#and will work so GOOD with a future prompt you sent

[deathfavor]

@requiemofrebellion said: "whatever they told you , it’s a lie ." (Hanma to Kazutora)

dusty toybox sentence starters

   It’s been a while since Kazutora’s had anyone visit him in jail. The first few months he'd had a lot (mostly lawyers, reports, so on and so forth) , and still a few more during the first year. But now it's been a couple of years. Most days were spent doing the same sort of shit, time blurring and blending together to the point it no longer mattered. ( But there were letters. Always letters, though the sender is different than the one in the past. Letters he clung to with DESPERATE hope of not being forgotten.) To say he was shocked when the guard said he had a visitor would be an understatement. It feels baffling as he’s walked out from his cell and to the merciless LED lights of the visitation room.

  His signature tiger stripes have disappeared with time and prison hair rules, cut off once it grew too long. But there’s no mistaking that it is Kazutora with his wide stare and the ripple of the tattoo on his throat when he swallows. Anticipation makes him feel more alive than he has in months. He’s uncertain who it might be, but it doesn’t matter. It’s something different. Something new in the routine. It gives him something to grasp to remember time.

   He sits down in the cold steel chair, and then lifts his head to see who his visitor is. And nearly chokes on his own spit.  “ Hanma?! “  Kazutora asks incredulously, sitting upright and scooting closer to the edge of his chair as he stares through the glass in disbelief. It's been ages since he last saw the other. Not that he blames Hanma for it, what delinquent would want to visit a juvie? Besides, Hanma sounded busy in his letters anyways. The fact he even wrote to him was priceless to him.

   “  You…You’re here?  “  He asks, eyes widened in shock. His lip trembles slightly, breath shaking as he draws in a breath. " I'm glad. I'm so glad. " He breathes, trying to force a cheerful smile. " Others- others were trying to tell me- tell me that you didn't care. " He admits, handcuffs clicking as he scoots closer.to the glass. " Just use and throw me aside. " His expression falters, unsteady. " Feels like everyone's trying to get in my head. The therapists, people sending me letters. " He admits softly. " They want me to hate you. And Chome and Chonbo and everyone. " He sighs, slumping into the chair.

It's a lie. Kazutora lifts his eyes again to stare at Hanma, studying his face or a moment before he nods. Once, then again. " Yeah. " Hanma's voice is soothing, calming the nerves in his chest. " Thanks for coming, by the way. " Kazutora adds, leaning forwards with a more genuine smile that makes the tired look on him not seem so bad. " I know you've probably got a lot going on. Got all your letters. " He smiles. " I've been behaving more so they're thinking about letting me have a phone call now and again. "

[housetargaryenloyalist]

Oh So Sweet

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

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

Word count: 2.7K

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

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

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

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

Happy reading!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dear lady Y/n

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

With regards

Maester Tansen

[cursedcola]

Prompt: "Will You Marry Me?" - Proposal Headcannons Characters: Everyone :) Part(s): Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde(here!), Diasomnia(Pt.1)(Pt.2) Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Warning(s): The relationship is kinda toxic because it's Idia and I have to be realistic - but it gets better as you read. Just know that there are themes of miscommunication, self-sabotage, self-neglect, and insecurity in both Idia and the MC. I gave him some character growth at least and some maturation to the character. Note: All Ignihyde has is Idia so I gave his piece some extra love(super long. Like, this isn't even considered a headcannon set anymore. I really went overboard, I'm so sorry). Not proofread for grammar since I'm a bit lazy right now. Also, I haven't finished his chapter in game because I'm too weak (seriously wtf is up with these fights). I know the plot mostly but forgive me if there's an inaccuracy in a reference

Idia had it made during his youth - and deep down he knows it despite all his complaining. He knows that he won the introvert lottery. For three years he was able to live in a reclusive dorm room with no expectations beyond showing up to class (via a tablet of all things) and doing his work. Sure, he had to return home at some point and deal with that hot mess...but it was a displaced problem. One to be dealt with whenever. As a full-time 'student' he had junk food readily available, his brother down the hall, all the games and tech he needed, and somehow managed to land himself a loving partner despite his quirks.

The Ramshackle prefect - someone he initially wanted nothing to do with. Chaos seemed to follow their every move and Idia wanted no part of it. He never expected to come within a twenty-foot radius of them without force.

For the record, force indeed was used. Unfortunately they had a nasty habit of being nosy. Very 'main character complex' of them, if you ask him.

Yet it worked in his favor. Their stubbornness and intrusive ways wormed a place in his stone-cold heart. It fueled his ego much to everyone's chagrin. Out of everyone - princes, busy bodies, future doctors and the literal fish mafia - you picked him. The noob cursed to lose all his 50/50s and rot in bluelight. Idia seriously questions your tastes, but hey! He beat the normies and that's all he cares about.

Well, at least that's how he phrases it. Underneath that god-tier ego is an inferiority complex that he tries to keep down for your benefit. Something about your mood dipping by 20% when he talks trash? He'd need Ortho to run another test on that. Just to be safe.

Unfortunately, he still can't reign it in all the way. Victories can be temporary and who's he to say that your relationship isn't a one-shot story? Nothing worthwhile is ever that simple. Good games always get sequels...so the question lingers, will he still be a main character in yours?

When Idia graduates, he fully expects for you to walk out of his life. He returns to S.T.Y.X and leaves NRC to fulfill his role back home. You have no reason to care about him when he's no longer nearby. Life isn't like an isekai manga. You won't wait for him - no, you'll get a taste for how life is without him and indulge. Slowly you'll stop texting him, calling him, playing games with him - well, he'll do it first! He refuses to be the second male lead that gets dumped when you finally find your prince. That's for chumps.

He'd rather you just up and leave this world! At least then he wouldn't be in this pitiful situation...but he's seen that crow's shitty work ethic. You're stuck.

Idia's scared to say the least. One could say that his self sabotage was in action before your relationship even began. Old habits die hard, and no one could stop his spiral. Not even Ortho. Idia left his little brother behind as well. The boy sent him off with a smile, promising to take good care of you in his big brother's stead. After all, you both were in the same year.

It's not surprising that he reverts to his old ways. A hard battle is even more difficult to win when you don't have the motivation to fight it in the first place. Idia loses his drive...and in turn his already negative outlook grows worse.

Needless to say, Idia ... neglects you.

Your relationship has always been more of an 80:20 than a 50:50 - with him taking more than he ever gave. You always set aside time and made sure he was comfortable. You respected his anxieties and dealt with his temper on more than one occasion. His jealousy. You indulged his hobbies, always tried to include him in on activities with your friends (even though he rarely ever accepted), wore your heart on your sleeve and always took the lead. You were always too good to be true.

Two years. Two years with him at S.T.Y.X and you at NRC. Not a day passed where you did not text him or call. Not a week passed where you did not video-chat or play a game with him. You made time. You checked in. Told him stories about your life an friends. Ortho often would send him recordings and clips as well. During vacations you'd make plans to see him and always invited him to come to campus for events. Even though he never accepted, you still always offered. Throughout it all he kept you at a distance, yet unable to fully let you go at the same time. He needed you to do it. He needed his inner thoughts to shut up and to have someone else to blame.

You. You. You. When would you stop? Why weren't you tired of him yet? On a good day he can be frustrating, so how were you not mad when he was physically trying to make you hate him? Were you waiting until graduation to drop the bomb on him that you'd leave for good? On another's arm or back to your world?

Imagine his surprise when neither happened. On the dawn after Ortho's graduation ceremony, Idia came out of his cave to greet him at the S.T.Y.X entrance. He would no longer be as lonely, and perhaps without Ortho around, you'd finally put distance between yourself and the Shroud family. All would be as it should.

He did not expect to see you at the gate as well. Ortho flew up to him with a bright grin and twirl in the air - babbling on and on about how he arranged for you to come work as a research assistant in the lab. After all, you had an extensive knowledge of blot as well as field experience. It was a win-win situation for the company and your relationship! You could now be a happy family! Isn't that just amazing?

"It was extremally difficult to keep this a surprise!...Brother?" Ortho halts mid-rant, his receptors going haywire, "Brother, your heartrate has increased and your temperature is dropping below stable levels. You must regulate your breathing pattern!"

White noise rang like television static in Idia's eardrum. He watched you thank one of the guards while handing off your suitcase. His pulse increased and mind went under water. How long had it been since you were together longterm? You looked different. More mature. Meanwhile he was still the same - physically and emotionally. Still the pasty shut-in with dark eyebags and energy drinks running through his veins instead of blood. He wasn't used to seeing you in person. How should he react? Should he hug you? Do you want him to? That's weird. He hasn't held you in a while - yeah, it would be creepy. Does he even deserve to? What made you want to work here anyways?! You could have gone anywhere. ANYWHERE. - Shit. You're looking this way. What should he do?! aHH! You're walking over!

He does what he knows best. Shuts down. You receive a disgraceful greeting. No affection. Not even a smile.

Idia's brow furrows at your approach and he buries his hands deep into the pockets of his lab-coat. When you lean in to kiss his cheek, he catches you by the forearms and holds you in place. "Since when were you going to work here? You do remember what S.T.Y.X is in charge of, right? Once you're in, there's no going back. Are you a masochist or something?" Ah. There goes the heartfelt reunion. Being home did bring out a more harsh and cut-throat side of him after all.

Despite his poor treatment, you don't react upset. Now the relationship has now become something of a 90 : 10. He knows you have no reason to come here other than for Ortho and himself. You really are an Otome protagonist, jeez. Willing to do all that for him? Giving up your future and friends just to be at his side...dammit. Don't give him hopes! Don't undo all the work he's put in to survive without you! Stop welcoming misfortune for his sake! You're stupid. Stupidstupidstupid .... man he loves that stupidity. Gods he missed it.

Shit. Not even an hour in and he's reverting.

You don't realize it but you're heading straight for a bad ending. He does though. He's read the guides and played more visual novels than he can count. As a pro, he needs to steer you off this villainy ending and towards the true route.

After all ... what was that one saying? Heroes will sacrifice you for the world, while Villans will sacrifice the world for you? He heard it from some normie bookworm...but it seems fitting right now.

Idia's no hero. He'll destroy his world if it means you get to be happy. Not that he had much of one to begin with. You...gave him a life beyond fiction while all he's offered is a curse. Literally and figuratively. Its time he returned what he so greedily stole. He'll make you move on through force.

The months are slow and difficult. Despite being nearby, Idia only ever seeks you out for work-related reasons. Even then he is very cold and dismissive . He also does not turn you away when you take the initiative. Just like old times, you linger around his room and prod him for attention. He wants you to leave, but also doesn't want to be cruel. So, he maintains this impassive position and lets you do whatever you please. Yet the situation is scarily similar to how you both were at NRC. Except instead of using his past as an excuse, he now uses your work dynamic to enable his noncommittal ways.

There really is only so much one person can take. After Idia left NRC, you pinned his switch in behavior on the lifestyle change and distance separating you both. You knew Idia would be someone you had to work hard for when you started to date, and so the situation was one you viewed as an obstacle to overcome. The solution was simple - you would go to S.T.Y.X and prove to him that you were willing to make it work. Without the physical distance, you hoped that he would let you in again. That you wouldn't have to hear reassurances from his brother anymore, and instead hear his feelings from his own mouth instead. Then you both could work out the details together in time. Seeing him reject you at first was discouraging, but you did not let it rest there. Perhaps he needed time and to get used to your presence in his home. After all, these were new waters. You would be patient. You would prove yourself capable.

Life becomes a time capsule. As the days went by, a bitter feeling grew in your stomach. Why wouldn't he laugh? Why wouldn't he look in your eyes anymore? Why is he retreating even further? What were you doing wrong? How could you fix it? Is it you? Your performance in the lab is outstanding according to your supervisors, and your work friends seem to find you agreeable enough. Can't he see that you've adjusted well and are happy here? There's nothing to worry about. How else can you prove yourself?

These thoughts plague your mind to an extend that Ortho felt the need to preform psychiatric evaluation. You dismissed his concerns with a long list of things about your new home that make you happy - including him. It pacifies his panic and somehow mitigates your own as well.

Until one fateful day, when you decided to take your lunch early and overheard a conversation between two senior S.T.Y.X employees

"Isn't the boss' partner kind of pitiful?" One technician spoke in a hush whisper, taking a bite from her salad, "He doesn't give them the time of day. I can't believe they've stuck around this long. Screw the job, I would have been out after the first week," "Shhh! Quit gossiping, it's bad. Especially about the one who pays our bills," The other scolds. "I know....but isn't it just sad. They're clearly being taken advantage of. I can't help but feel sorry" "It's not just you...to tell the truth, I had no clue Director Idia had a partner up until recently. If anything, I thought he disliked Assistant MC and kept them around for Director Ortho's sake. Imagine my shock..." They both snicker at the notion. "Yeah. I give them a few more months...maybe a year. Despite being smart in the lab, they clearly can't read the room:

It was the last straw. Like ice water being dunked over your head after a hot shower. The lunch pale in your grasp suddenly felt like it weighed ten times heavier, and a cold sweat dripped down your back. They were right. He didn't want you here. It was time to move on or else you'll just be living out an endless loop. Nothing has changed since your youth aside from the location. No matter how long you wait, no matter how much effort and time you offer ... the relationship is doomed to fail. You gave him everything...and it was time to stop waiting. To stop expecting and hoping. Time to accept reality.

Your lunch goes discarded in a nearby bin and your shift abandoned. You would not work another second for S.T.Y.X despite the facility not being the source of your anguish. Your shoes clack loudly against the tile flooring as you speed-walk to Idia's office, where he was lazily reviewing data on a recent experiment. His phone set off to the side with some automated gatcha daily playing.

You use your 'special' pass (curtesy of ortho) to get in. The metal door swings out as you march inside and turn off his screen without asking.

"H-h'-hey! What are you-" He shrieks and turns in his chair. "We need to talk" "Can't it wait until later? I'm busy working, if you can't tell" "No" Your tone is demanding. Definite. You all but yank the badge from around your neck and drop it in his lap. In that motion, he knew. Your eyes scrunch tight and teeth grind together. He was prepared for this. For you to lash out and yell at him for your suffering. Make him the bad guy in your story and finally beat the game for good. Not for you to deflate. Not for the glassy, disappointed stain on your eyes. Or the shallow breaths as you calm yourself - not letting your emotions frighten him like a spooked cat. "I'm quitting," "S.T.Y.X? You know you can't just quit. There's a process," He refutes, lazily pushing his chair back with an anxious fidget. "Not just S.T.Y.X...I'm quitting us. I can't do this anymore," "Oh. Alright. Let me get the paperwork," "Alright?" You whisper, gaping at him "...just alright? That's all you have to say to me? Not even 'why' ?" He pauses typing on a holographic keyboard, cocking an eyebrow at the question. "What? You want me to beg you to stay or something like that? We're not in an anime," His words die out at the end, and had it not been for your disbelief you would have caught the note of sadness in them, "you want to go? Then go. I warned you about this place" "No...you warned me about the facility. It's not the facility I have a problem with. I actually like it here" "So it's me then, huh? I warned you about that too," He grumbles and continues to type, "I'm not whatever it is that you saw in me. It's your fault for sticking it out this long. I knew this was how it would end from the start" A silence follows aside from the occasional noise from his computer. That's it. The nail in the coffin. You finally realized the truth. He was no good for you. He couldn't be 'fixed'. With an approving chime, he finally has all the departure paperwork pulled up for you to sign. "Alright. Sign these and I'll get you an escort," He holds out a tablet in pen without looking from his computer. You don't take it. "Hello? I said - " he turns to face you, irritated "....here" Silent tears stream down your cheeks and pool at the tip of your chin, dripping to the tile below. Wide eyes lock in his general direction. Your hands tremble slightly at your sides, as if your mind was thousands of miles away. His heart breaks. "You never even gave us a chance, did you?" He says nothing. "It wasn't about 'making it work' for you. It was always a matter of 'how long'. You've been waiting for me to leave you, all this time?" It wasn't a question. "All this time, I've been trying to prove myself. I've been thinking that I did something wrong...that I needed to be better" the word stings your tongue and seems to strike him, " but I was never even close to enough" we were never enough

With languid movements, you take the pen from him and sign the papers. You would not hide your sadness. Your grief. Your pain for a relationship that was never actually one. For a battle that only had one party fighting.

He lets you go, the metal door swinging shut and rattling him to his core. Idia's hands shake as he tries to return to his work. They tremble over the holographic keyboard, making his blue nails look like moving neon streaks in the air.

He had always thought you ere just being kind. That your self-sacrificing nature was natural, and that someone else was more deserving of it. He failed to consider the possibility that all the things you did...you did for him alone. You did out of the same anxieties and fears he felt.

In a way, you both were at fault. He led himself down a self-fulfilling prophecy - letting his anxieties and what-ifs become reality. And you? You thought everything could be fixed with time. With sacrifice. That eventually he would grow. You both were plants, one overwatered and the other left parched in the sun.

He did get one thing right. This was defiantly a bad end. Just not in the way he originally believed...

Somehow, life becomes worse than before you arrived at S.T.Y.X. At least when you were around, people did see him more out of his office or room. Seeing him revert to his previous ways without so much as an inkling of sadness for losing you....yeah, it did not look good. Worse than people not even knowing you were his partner at first. After your departure, rumors began to spread that you had finally snapped. The pity felt for you morphed into judgement towards his character. Others saw him as a heartless recluse, and the pity was extended to Ortho of all things. If Idia could toss out a loyal partner of years, what about the little robot? Perhaps despite all the gossip, the others at S.T.Y.X did not fully believe that he would let you leave so easily. That he wasn't as detached as the Shroud name dictates.

Little do they know that he's become a shadow of his former self. He can't even act self-depreciative. Pleasantries don't hit like they used to. Having you at a distance...well, was still considered as being with you. Now that you're never coming back, it's harder. Everything reminds him of you. Your favorite snacks are still stocked in the cafeteria, and there are blankets in his room that still have your scent. Occasionally a file will pop up with your work in it while he's doing reviews...and then there's Ortho. When you left, he was crushed. He pestered Idia for days - the security cameras giving him full knowledge of what happened. Yet no matter what the robot said about the situation, Idia didn't want to hear it. Eventually he took away Ortho's access data to his personal spaces.

That didn't stop the bot from talking through the door and spamming his brother's inboxes. Despite cutting off contact with his big brother, you still spoke to Ortho regularly. He refused to let his big brother lose all connection to you, and updated him on your well-being. Regardless of what Idia said, hearing about you made a difference. At first it increases his anxiety and drops his mood...but every time, like a scheduled delay, his serotonin levels will spike. Be it from a clip of your voice, a picture, or even just the mention of your name.

"Brother! I just finished a call with MC. Today they decided to adopt a cat! Would you like to see a picture?" His computer beeps with an incoming missive. Idia clicks it, and the screen displays a photo of you with a small white kitten in your arms. "They've decided to name it Grimm Jr. From what I heard, the predecessor was not pleased to be 'replaced,' as he calls it" Ortho laughs from the other side of the door, but Idia is too focused on the image on his screen. The curve in your smile and the way you gently cradle the kitten. You seem...happy. Much better than how he is doing. He fails to hear the door beep, granting access, neither the bot fly up next to him to look at the picture. "Big brother, why don't you apologize to MC? They would listen," Idia startles, clutching his chest as his hair flairs cherry red for a brief moment. He swivels in his chair and closes the image quickly. "I'm not apologizing for nothing. It's not like I miss them or anything. My life's great without having a normie relationship to manage" "Your body language suggests that you are lying" Ortho states, his eyes squinting cheekily. Idia hunches over, glaring at his keyboard and fiddling with his sleeves, "It's not like they'd want to see me anyways. I blew it. Only an idiot would forgive what I did," "That's not true! MC loves you!" Idia glares at him from the corner of his eye, "Yeah? They look pretty happy without me. They were miserable here" "Because you purposefully made them miserable! You are very smart brother, but even I understand emotions better than you and I am an artificial lifeform!" "Then what should I do, Ortho? Go beg them to take me back like some cringe sitcom?!" "Yes!" Idia blanches at the thought, but doesn't entirely dismiss it. Ortho glares holes into his head, causing Idia to shrink into his chair. "You are always afraid, brother. You lost them to your fears once...do you want to regret that? Are you really satisfied with pictures and stories? Why deny yourself wonderful things! We are not trapped anymore!"

Ortho leaves him with one piece of information - an apartment address. He sends it to all of Idia's emails and even somehow makes it the background of his tablet. He can't change it or take it off.

He stares at it long and hard. Searches the place up and even uses virtual reality to scope out the building. While perhaps a bit creepy...he hacks the security cameras and watches feed of you coming and going over the past moths. Some days you look perfectly well, and others you look worse for wear. If he went...would you even want to see him? Would you let him in? Kick him out? Is he willing to even try? What if you already moved on...no, Ortho wouldn't set him up for that if he knew you were happy with someone else.

Idia leaves S.T.Y.X for the first time in months. His request for leave shocks other employees. Yet he's gone the moment it's approved, afraid that he'll lose his edge if he thinks too long on it.

He finds himself at the door of a middle-class apartment in the Kingdom of Roses. Second floor, third door to the left, just like he memorized. He knows its yours from the ribbons tied on the doorknob, themed after one of your favorite animes. One he introduced to you...

In his hands is a small box of candies - a peace offering, just in case you want to kill him on sight.

His boney knuckles wrap around the doorknocker and thwack it three times. Sweat pools in his palms and he jolts away. The seconds like hours as his painted nails dig crescents into his palms. The door opens. "Hi, how can I -" You pause mid-sentence, your mouth going dry. Grimm Jr. snuggled in one of your arms while the other holds the door open, "I-idia?" "T-that's my name," He grimaces, looking anywhere but at you. "What are you doing here?" His tongue feels heavy and the tips of his hair fade to a pale orange. He studders and fumbles with the box of candies, holding them out to you with a grimace. "I wanted to see you...urk. I hope that's not weird! Can ... I come in?" You eye the box in thought, before reaching out to take it and opening the door further. It was a start.

You hear him out - through the stuttering and the self-depreciative comments that he hastily retracts. This isn't just about him. It's about you and everything else in-between. Shockingly enough, you agree to give him a second chance. It wasn't entirely his fault after all ... and you did still love him. Although now there are ground rules. You would not be returning to S.T.Y.X. You've finally created a stable home for yourself and have a life in this new city. You have a career, friends, and a life that doesn't include him. You need the individuality. You would no longer try to morph yourself for him or be placid. If he wanted to spend time with you, he would have to leave S.T.Y.X and come stay at your apartment. You would no longer be the one always reaching out, he would have to start showing initiative and making time for you. You would see how things progress from that point. He was not a child, and you would not beg for basic needs to be met anymore. Words would not be enough, you need actions. It was time for 50 : 50.

Weirdly enough, he agrees to all your rules without a single complaint. Not a normie comment or slang filled statement leaves his lips. He's still that nerdy dork you fell in love with at heart, but these 'normie' things? Well, Idia's accepted that he wants those things. As much as it is difficult for him to admit, they only grossed him out so much before because he always believed they were unattainable

He's true to his word. He calls you every day, first thing when he wakes up (in the late afternoon. He still is a hermit at heart). At first it made him anxious, and he'd hover over the contact for fifteen minutes before dialing. Yet it soon became easy, with his heart only beating fast from happiness. He takes the weekends off and comes to spend them at your apartments. Sometimes he brings Ortho and it becomes a sleepover with games - and at some point you start inviting your other heartslabyul friends from back in the day too. Eventually you do come around the compound again. It's awkward to say the least, considering how you left. Yet at the same time, it's a breath of fresh air. The others are shocked to see him out of his office, and he eats IN THE CAFETERIA. Woah. He calls you by your name and not 'assistant' when in public. Homie scares some people. That's what he does. He gives you a special watch for your anniversary. It's paired with on he has and solar powered, so you can contact him at any time. As a natural born worry-wart, he can't help but worry for your safety. Since watching the appartment CCTV is 'creepy,' he just asks that you wear the watch if you're going out anywhere. It won't die and with the click of a button he'll be alerted. In exchange, you can use it to contact him whenever you want. He'll always get back instantly since it might be an emergency. The watch is also directly linked to Ortho's system, so you can contact him as well. Who needs Cortana when you have Ortho?

For the first time, Idia feels secure in a relationship. He can't count Ortho since the boy is technically his creation. Ortho would always be there...and now? Idia's confident you will too.

Does that mean you should get married? Isn't that the next step in all this?

Well....shit (pleasant connotation)

He never would have tinkered with this idea before considering his 'family'. Who the hell in their right mind would marry a Shroud? A fool. Are you a fool? Maybe.

It's late evening on a Sunday night when you're both walking home together after hitting up a local diner for hearty eats. Wow. Look at him. On a date. So weird...pshh.

Idia walks at your side, forcing his pace to match yours. Not everyone is graced with his long stickman legs. His hands are buried deep in his hoodie and his posture is slightly slouched. Classic scary dog privilege for a nighttime walk - well, if his hair didn't scream valentine's day pink to the world. Although no one else has flaming hair other than the Shroud family, so he doubts anyone would interrupt.

You decide to take the long path home and through a nearby park. The night was still young for nightowls such as yourselves, and fresh air was always crisp at this hour.

Along that path you decide to stop at a cement bench by some vending machines and chill out for a bit. Despite having just ate, Idia gets you each a can of coffee.

He'd be leaving to go back to S.T.Y.X tomorrow. Like he does every Sunday. His gaze drifts to the watch on your wrist and thinks about adding some new features - maybe video chat? So he can see you throughout the day. He wonders what you'll be up to while he's stuck in the lab. Maybe you'll go shopping, or play a new game. Maybe you'll try out a new recipe or take Grimm Jr. out to play. He wishes he could see you during the week.

Ah. You're talking. He should probably tune in or you'll get mad at him. Why's it so hard to focus? He hasn't felt this uneasy in a while...

Why is he having these kinds of thoughts? It's weird.

"You okay? You seem a little spaced," You pull him from his thoughts, a concerned crease wrinkling your temple. "Eh. It's nothing. Just not looking forward to the week," he chuckles weakly. "I know that feeling. It's always a bummer when you dip. Not to sound clingy or anything" His golden hues spark for a moment, a pale pink dusting his cheeks as he whips his head to look at you.

"W-wait - really? I was just thinking the same thing...." "You were?" "Yeah. It's...kind of weird without you. Everything's emptier. Wow. That was pretty cringe. Sorry." He grimaces, internally screaming and knowing that this was going to replay when he tried to sleep later. You tilt your head at him, a slight frown on the cusp of your lip. Something tickles at his fingers and he looks down to see you lace your hand with his. "I miss you too," your words are soft. Genuine. He feels his neck grow hot, the pink glow radiating off him betraying him. Idia looks between your interlaced fingers and the drink in his hand. There...wouldn't ever be a 'right' time for this. Would there? You've waited long enough. He pulls his hand away and pops the soda tab off with deft hands.

"Hey..." he twiddles with the soda tab in his hands, "on a scale of 1-10, how are my odds of getting a yes?" "A 'yes' to what?" "To this, " he sighs through his nose, holding the tab out towards you with a shaking hand, "will you marry me?"

{A soda tab from canned coffee. Not the most charming offering, and it barely fits around your pinky finger. Yet, Idia's always been impulsive at his core. Had he not acted in the moment, he likely would have ran countless possibilities over and over in his mind. While not your forever ring, the tab will remain a sentimental piece}

{Idia is not a man with a keen eye fore jewelry - but he knows quality. Combine his eye for perfection with his craftsmanship and behold - a ring made from purified blot. The center gem is a piece of magestone in it's most refined state. The band is titanium and there are small sapphires along the molding. Since he would be wearing a matching band, Idia decided to keep the design simple. He prefers functionality over all. Yet he does want you to feel proud of his handiwork, so he includes vintage molding on your band only. He wears a smooth black band on his ring finger, and never removes it}

[hyewka]

soobin + hybrid pls :33

⭑ warnings; hybrid!au, sub!soobin, blowjob, breeding, impregnation kink (this is filth good god), big dick soob, dubious consent somno

⭑ send in a small prompt with the format of (member) + (nsfw prompt) and ill write you a small drabble!

owning soobin as your eccentric bunny hybrid who goes around humping literally everything you own, his favorite being your poor couch. you'd have to stop the poor thing from unknowingly going at it on your leg in pure daylight or when guests are over, thankfully after a while he learnt to control that part of himself, saving you from anymore future awkward encounters in public. you've searched and looked all over the internet for anything to help tone it down just a little bit but every pill that promises to get rid of it completely only does so for an hour or two before your bunny starts it again like the horn dog he is.

using your mouth on soobin was a home remedy that surprisingly worked for longer than a few hours and you're beyond surprised, he loves it. 'not gonna play with you like this again if you continue ruining my couch bun, know that right?' he nods and nods and he doesn't stop, his tongue out panting so dumbly as you squeeze the base of his bunny dick, satisfied with his obedience. so that marks the day you dump out all the useless vitamins and pills, emptying your bathroom vanity.

of course, all this really does is get him obsessed with you sucking off his dick, retaliating by ruining your couch even more. does he like the feeling of you punishing him? does he know that you're weak to his eyes and you always give in the week of denying his begging and pleading? yeah, you needed to practice some self discipline--your knees would thank you.

when week two comes around, and soobins sulking around everyday, trying his best to get you to give in, because he's so so addicted to the warmth of your mouth the moment you had got on your knees for him but you're really strict this time and he feels like he could cry. it gets even worse when he feels a fire in his tummy in the middle of the night, heating up rather quickly, and he groans. heat period, now of all days.

he really is cursed but bunny!soob is unhinged, he can't stand being hornier than usual so what does he do? he goes to your room, tries to think over his options but fuck it, he goes in, climbs in your bed, as careful as he can, he tries to make it quick, just a little bit of your warmth and your scent and god, he clumsily pulls down your panties in one go, dick standing up tall, rubbing against your cheeks and he's already sent to overdrive. you're murmuring, moving a little bit. when he looks over to check your face you're not opening your eyes, he sighs. he'd definitely get punished for life for this so he swears he won't cum at all and if he feels that he would, he's running straight to the bathroom.

unfortunately bun soobin isn't known for having self control, so when he's done prepping, rubbing your core and collecting at your arousal, he doesn't let your body get used to his cock, bottoming out, stretching you out to unimaginable degrees. if you pretend to be sleeping before, you aren't now.

"s-soobin, shit, d-do you wanna--get punished?"

he ignores all your threats to taking away his little blowjob privilege because this is a hundred times better, this is heaven. bunny soobin who really doesn't stop, he can't, he physically can't, his thrusts are erratic yet it felt like his stuffing cock was hitting your womb each time. you feel so full already, you weren't ready for what comes next. soobin promised to himself he won't cum, he can't or you'd kill him, but he's too far gone, his eyes rolling back as he feels his high coming rather quick. "wanna fuck a baby into you, please let me-- 'm cumming, cumming!"

he can't hear your protests-- it's all background white noise, he's just fucking into you, sopping sounds coming from your pussy as he mewls, your ass feels like it's bruised with how hard he slams into you, bunny's just sooo so obsessed with your cunt. and when he eventually cums, and you then later, he doesn't stop. you're past overstimulation with how much he filled you up, and yet he still keeps going and going, switching positions with him hovering over you with your legs pressed to your chest like all you were was a breeding bitch for him to spill his load in. all hybrid!bunny soobin does the night is plan to fill you up with his seed, cute scut twitching every time he jizzes lol >_<

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unraveled 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A curious man wanders into your dress shop with a lot of questions.

Characters: Sherlock Holmes (Cavill)

Note: I hope you all enjoy this random idea.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

One hand guides the fabric as the other turns the wheel. Your work is slow but steady, every stitch perfect, every seam precise. Your fare may be modest and your product simple, but its quality cannot be contested. Your labour as yourself is honest and plain.

The noise of the machine is your only company. The one-room shop nestled behind the butcher’s rarely sees a customer through its door. Instead, the orders are sent from the factories, returned with the printed adverts you disperse outside their doors. The writs are sent along with an envelope of pence and shilling and you complete each with equal diligence before sending them back bundled in paper and twine.

The operation isn’t especially fruitful but the profit is enough to subsist. Enough to guarantee your independence; a small apartment just above and a pot of stew to last you through each week. This humble existence is preferable to any marriage you’ve witnessed. 

The letters from your sisters reaffirm your spinster’s fate. You’d rather a hand wheel and a needle than a brood and broken back. A husband seems to provide several jobs at once, you’ll happily settle for one.

As your hands work from memory and your head wanders from tedium, the bell above the door gives a single sharp toll. You ease the wheel to a halt and leave the seam unfinished. You peer up above the black iron machine, reminding yourself to fix your hunch as a client enters. You can’t but wonder if he may have come to the wrong shop.

By his attire, he is a class above the factory women who require gray skirts and simple stays. His waistcoat is embroidered and his jacket is pressed and clean. He is tall, locks part tidily so his curls lay gracefully. His face is fresh-shaven, square jaw with a cleft, and shoulders broad and strong. He does not share the same sinewy gauntness as the labourers with the coal-dusted noses.

He carries a fine leather bag. Another clue to his status. His shoes, another. Polished and without creases.

You stand to greet him, “good afternoon, sir. Might I help you with something?”

His answer is not prompt. He takes in the finished dresses hung by the east wall and turns to examine the rolls of wool and cotton. At last, he returns his attention to you.

“Afternoon,” his deep timbre fills the small space, “you are the dressmaker.”

It isn’t a question, but you answer, “I am.”

He narrows his eyes as he approaches your desk, the sole fixture in the space. From without, the shop is just as bare. The blackened windows offer not insight into the business, its only suggestion the sign hung above the door, though the paint requires a fresh coat.

“And the shop owner?”

“That is me as well, sir,” you assert. The presumption is not uncommon.

“Ah,” he accepts your explanation without comment, “so, you will have sewn this.”

He puts his bag on the desk, nearly knocking your shears from the corner. You try not to flinch as they teeter near the edge and he pulls open the top of the leather bag. He pulls out a swath of grey. You recognise it and he rolls the cuff to show your initials sewn within.

“Sir,” you say precariously, “is there some issue with it? Is it your wife’s dress?”

“Wife? No, no,” he dismisses, feeling the fabric between his fingers, “rather I am in search of the dress’s owner. The initial must belong to them, yes? So you would have a name for the buyer.”

“Mm, no, those are mine,” you point at the letters, “as it is my handiwork.”

“That makes sense,” he frowns in disappointment. “So you wouldn’t know who would wear it?”

You rub your chapped lips together. You find your tongue sliding over them often when you work, turning them raw with the habit. The man’s lips are rosy and smooth, as well-kempt as the rest of him. He is no factory worker’s husband.

“I might… would you take it out?” You ask.

He obliges as you pluck up the metal cylinder from your desk and unfurl the tape measure from within. He shakes out the dress, holding it by the shoulders to reveal salt stains along the skirts and unleashing a dingy smell in the shop. You wiggle your nose at the stench but worse roils in from the butcher’s on hot days.

You take the measure of the sleeves and the waist, then to the hem. You scribble the numbers on a scrap and take that to compare with your ledger. The measurements are in now way defining but might narrow it down. He keeps the dress aloft and you return to him to check the thread along the seams. A few months ago, you changed the thickness as the factory workers complained of splits under the arms.

“Hm, it is a recent purchase,” you assure him and return to the ledge. 

He lowers the dress and approaches. You snap the book closed and turn your face up to consider him once more, “why do you need to know, if it is not your wife?”

“You are very discerning,” he remarks as he folds the dress and drapes it over his bag, “I’m certain then you can surmise the woman who wore this dress did not meet a kind fate.” He tugs up the hem and shows a tear trimmed in scarlet, the colour not obvious from a distance. “Holmes, Sherlock Holmes. I’m a detective and I’m trying to identify a poor woman found not far from here. I believe it is in your own interest that I discover her assailant.”

“I cannot say for certain which she is,” you turn over the scrap and re-open the ledger. You write down three names which match the measurements and hold the paper out to him. He takes it, his thick fingertips brushing yours. “Those are the ones which align with the dress.”

“Mm,” he hums as he tucks the paper into his chest pocket, “and your name? I couldn’t make it out on the sign.”

You recite your name flatly, “it isn’t on the sign.”

“It requires new paint,” he admonishes, “I could hardly find you.”

“I am aware,” you reply. “Thank you for noting.”

He’s quiet, “being a detective, however, I did indeed put together the clues.”

Is he making a joke? You cannot tell. He folds up the dress completely and puts it back in the leather bag. The smell persists.

“What are you prices?” He asks abruptly.

“Sir, I sew dresses for factory women, sometimes a few communion pieces, but I’m afraid I don’t do much suit work.”

“My sister requires a dress,” he sniffs, “as simple as it is, I can see your work is fine.”

“I have only wools and cottons,” you counter.

“Do you always turn away business?” He challenges.

“I wasn’t, sir, I’m only clarifying what I currently do. My prices are set for those fabrics,” you explain.

“I will pay for the muslin and velvet,” he waves his hand staunchly, “you will be paid for your labour. Can you sew with more than wool and cotton?”

“I can, sir, but you could find a ready-made dress in a market boutique if the dress is required promptly.”

“I can afford the time and coin,” he insists. “You are not a talented advertiser, are you?”

You’re taken aback by his bluntness. Often, his ilk have that demeanour. It’s why you’d rather the factory workers and the fish sellers’ wives.

“I suppose not,” you agree, “I would need measurements before I begin. You may send the numbers along with the fabric, then. And I would require a style. Perhaps your sister is a purveyor of fashion magazines?”

“I will send a messenger,” he shrugs. “Thank you for your time. I shan't get in your way any longer.”

“Good day, sir.”

“Good day to you,” he takes the bag from your desk and the shears fall to the floor with a clatter.

You skirt around to grab them as he bends and swipes them up first. You recoil as he closes the blades with a snap. He examines them before placing them back on the desk.

“Apologies,” he says, “and miss,” he looks at you, “take to heart what I’ve told you today. Keep away from the allies and perhaps you may consider locking your door.”

“Thank you, sir, your concern is appreciated.”

“Rather you might just keep those close, eh,” he points to the shears and his cheek dimples.

Again, you can’t be certain of his humour. You keep a placid expression, neither smiling nor scowling. He clears his throat and runs his hand down his jacket, gripping the lapel.

“Very well then, I’ll be off.”

He turns on his heel and marches to the door. You stay by the desk as the bell rings with his departure. Once the door closes, you cross the shop. You turn the lock into place, his foreboding lingering with the stale scent of dirty water.

🪡

Despite the unusual visit, your days roll on like a hand on a clock. The thought of the woman’s tragic fate looms like a shadow but fades. You have too much stitching to do to fret over that man and his ominous words. You assume his interest in your work thereafter was wholly feigned as he does not return.

That day, you pass off six parcels to Eustace, the driver who takes them down to the stacks to hand off to the floor bosses who will parse them out to the women they’ve been cut for. You pay him his toll before he climbs back into the seat of his cart, his horse kicking impatiently.

“Excuse me, sir,” another driver clops up along the other side of the street, a narrow squeeze between the slanting buildings. “I’m in search of a dressmaker. I believe the store is tucked behind the butcher’s and…” the man’s voice drifts off as his eyes flit to the meat sellers marquee.

“Right here, good sir,” Eustace responds, “wouldn’t ya know, she’s right here.”

You lift your chin to see past the cart and spy the driver. He removes his cap as his gaze meets yours. Eustache dips his chin as he adjusts his own hat and snaps his old mare into a canter. As you're left alone with the carriage driver, a vehicle rather lofty for a block like this, you fold your hands behind you.

“Sir, you hardly look in need of a work woman’s dress,” you say.

“Miss,” he ties the reins off and jumps down from his seat, “I am sent for you, not a dress.”

“For me?” You echo.

“Mr. Holmes has sent,” he crosses the muck and nearly slips. “He said he made an appointment for a seamstress.”

“An appointment? I wasn’t informed of the time,” you rebuff. “I’ve a shop to run, orders paid for. I can’t simply leave.”

“Ah, yes, Mr. Holmes made mention of a fee,” the man feels around his striped coat, “he said a deposit would be needed.”

He takes out a brown envelope and hands it over. You take it, a small weight within. You look at the driver before you pull back the flap and peek inside. A large gold sovereign sits in the corner of the paper; a whole pound. That’s at least three days work.

You hold your breath, trying to maintain some composure. If that’s the deposit, what is he offering for the rest? You slip out the folded paper within, a page torn from a fashion journal. The dress is elegant if not extravagant. You don’t often do off-the-shoulder or ruffles like that but it isn’t beyond your skill.

You fold the flap closed again and lift your chin to face the driver, “I must lock up, you see?”

“Take your time, miss,” he says kindly. “Mr. Holmes isn’t expecting you to hurry.”

“Thank you, sir,” you bow your head and turn away.

You measure your steps along the facade of the butcher’s shop and curl around to the alleyway. You let yourself into your shop and tuck the envelope into your apron pocket. You take your sewing bag from under the desk and shake off the dust. You don’t often have reason to use it.

You open it up and pack away your shears, a measuring tape, pins with a cushion, your notebook, and a few other bits and bobs. Just in case. You grab a role of linen from against the wall. It’s heavy but you can manage.

You take the key from your desk drawer and switch off the overhead light. You lock the door and continue back out to the street. The driver puffs smoke from a pipe as he waits.

“Miss, allow me,” he snuffs out the pipe and puts it in his pocket. He nears and reaches for the roll of linen.

“It’s quite alright, sir,” you say.

“I insist, miss, can’t have a lady doing all that,” he takes it, not forcefully, and you let him.

As he goes to the carriage and opens the door, you give pause. You don’t know if you should be so easily swayed on a gold coin. Mr. Holmes hadn’t been entirely pleasant and you do prefer your simple work. Still, you can hardly turn your nose up at a pound. Not with the summer fizzling to a finale.

You lift your skirts and cross the street to the open carriage, “sir, might I have a name?”

“Gavin,” he answers, “and I have yours. Mr. Holmes made sure of it.”

“Yes, very good,” you say as you approach, another sliver of doubt trickling through. Mr. Holmes claimed to be a detective but is that really the reason he was strolling around with a dead woman’s dress? You gulp and look at Gavin then the carriage, “might I keep the window open?”

“Surely you can,” he agrees amiably. “Mr. Holmes lives quite a ways, shouldn’t mind the air. I’ll be certain to stay away from the stacks.”

“Thank you, sir,” you accept his proffered hand and he helps you up into the carriage. 

You settle on the bench as the door shuts and you open the window from within. You lean back, your hand grasping the top of your bag. You unclasp it as you feel Gavin climb up on the driver’s seat. You dip your hand inside and clutch your long shears.

You don’t forget all of what Mr. Holmes said.

[smitten-miqitten]

Post-Veilguard Solavellan and Rook headcanons:

Because Lavellan is directly in the Fade with no Veil to separate her from it, it becomes a (relatively) simple matter for Solas to reconnect her to the lost immortality of the Elves. It only works while she's physically present in the Fade however, and at first he has to function as a go-between until that connection is strong enough on its own(like an unused muscle).

Lavellan no longer NEEDS food or drink as a result but being without it is extremely uncomfortable. Feeling like you're starving constantly sucks, even if it might not kill you.

This is fine though, because Rook teams up with Dorian to make a plan. The Sending Crystal Dorian gave Lavellan is infamously always on her person, so can act as a beacon to her location. Dorian gets things sent to the Lighthouse, and Rook facilitates the delivery of the goods via helpful spirits with the Sending Crystal being their guide.

Rook works with Archon Dorian Pavus to crush any black market slave trading that they uncover. The Lighthouse is used to ferry the freed people to safety, as it was in the past.

Rook becomes the new master of the Lighthouse. They end up getting a Sending Crystal pair of their own to share with Solas, and he and they collaborate on things as needed. It's an odd friendship. Bitch to bitch communication. It's scathing but heartfelt. They both know he needs a buddy.

Eventually Rook also is reconnected enough to the Fade to the point they also stop aging, but anytime they enter Thedas proper it resumes for the duration they are there. As a result, they will likely either eventually die like normal, or choose to work via proxies while remaining in the Lighthouse physically.

Lavellan and Solas, wherever their vague-ass destination actually is, end up creating a fairly comfortable home despite how 'terrible' wherever they're at is supposed to be.

Cole warns her when Dorian is about to pass away of age, and she says her heartwrenching farewells in his final dream. Dorian wills his Sending Crystal to Rook, with the stipulation that Rook find Lavellan someone equally charming to chat with so she doesn't lose her connection to the real world. It's...a tall order 😔 Dorian is no less dear to Lavellan than Mythal was to Solas, for perspective.

As the one who accompanied the Dread Wolf into exile, Lavellan becomes a mythological figure amongst the few Dalish who still keep to some of their ways, more or less against her will. Her name, Ellenere, means nothing in Elvish originally but becomes the name of the goddess who serves as the heart and guide that endears The People to the trickster Fen'Harel. Statues of a female wolf are placed outside of camps next to those of Fen'Harel, so that she will placate him and he will not trouble the clan. She and he guard or stalk the dreams of the world... depending on the story.

Clan Lavellan is an awkward guest at the Arlathvhen because of their former-First's new deific status. Members of the clan also no longer choose to receive Vallaslin as adults.

In the far, far future Solas and Lavellan have children. This follows the spinning of myths by the Dalish that claimed they already had, which flustered Lavellan greatly and prompted a conversation about whether such a thing would even be possible, let alone advisable. Being born in the Fade, these children do not lack the connection their cousins in Thedas would and are therefore immortal like their parents, at least until they leave it (they do).

Solas and Lavellan fuck like...a lot. There are Dalish myths about that too, eventually 😂 Like when a thunderstorm is happening, they're being too rowdy. The person who started these myths may or may not be The Iron Bull.

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Could I request a Principal Larissa Weems or Lesso? with 52,54,59? Maybe with her assistant? Maybe with some smut🫣. I was thinking that they would be cold to the reader bc they like them and then the reader says something like why do you hate me and then it leads from there.. but do what you feel most comfortable with!!! ( Also I love your writings they are so good and you are so talented<3)

Quivering at Your Touch ~Sub!Larissa Weems xFem Mommy!Younger(20s)!Assistant!Reader (feat. Morticia Addams)

Summary— Sub!Larissa fic where Reader is Larissa’s assistant at Nevermore and they don’t really get along because Larissa is just cold to Reader all the time. But when Reader confronts Larissa, Reader finds that the tall blonde principal is a desperate sub who just wants to be a good girl for her mami… Anon Response— Hello anon!! You can absolutely request this! I would love to write this for you. I admit, I got a little carried away… Enjoy♥️

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

#52. “Fuck… Mommy! … Oh my, I’m so sorry, it just… slipped out…?”

#54. “You can call me Mommy/Daddy if you want too…”

#59. “You… find this attractive?”

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, smut, little fluff, eating out (oral sex), fingering, age gap (all legal), clit stimulation, grinding, humping, squirting, voice kink, sexy Spanish— I am not fluent so I apologize in advance for any mistakes, mami(mommy) kink, desperation, teasing, praising, light begging, light taunting, implied light overstimulation, implied Morissa, Morticia Addams, comforting, physical comforting, implied future smut, etc.

Enjoy (;

You walked into Ms. Weems’ office before the sun had even come up, handing over the paperwork that she had sent you home with last night. Being Ms. Weems’ assistant was your dream job. But it was not easy. The tall, blonde principal had high standards for herself and everyone else, especially her assistant.

After her near death experience, Morticia had convinced Larissa to hire an assistant, because according to the raven haired goddess, “You cannot carry the weight of the world, neigh Nevermore, on your shoulders alone, Mon Chérie…” Morticia had cooed late one summer night into the blonde’s exposed ear.

So, Larissa had began looking and interviewing two weeks before the new school year started. She had put out the news that she was interested in hiring an assistant, and soon the woman had resumes to look through. It had been almost two weeks and Larissa hadn’t found anyone suitable, when you had walked through the door of her office.

Larissa took an immediate liking to you. You were intelligent, organized, well-dressed and well mannered. After a mere twenty minutes, the tall blonde was offering you the job. You had eagerly accepted and moved into Nevermore at once. And the new school year started with a quick bang. And just as quickly, your work began.

“Here is your schedule for the week and those quarterly reports for this semester that you requested, Ms. Weems.” You spoke in a professional and formal manner, as always and as expected, as you handed the blonde principal the files.

Larissa looked up from her computer, reaching out and taking the files.

“Thank you, Miss L/N.” Larissa hummed, then standing up and going over to her cabinets of files, “One thing before you leave…”

You knew that Principal Weems was on first names basis’ with most of the staff, as far as the tall principal using pet names for some of your colleagues. The fact that after over nine weeks of working for this woman that she never wavered from Miss L/N, and she always expected Ms. Weems or Principal Weems made you sad. You knew it shouldn’t, she was your boss after all. But it did.

“Yes?” You asked, raising your head in her direction as she moved across the room.

Larissa paused to look through the many files, before pulling one out and coming back around her desk and up to you. She handed you the file, looking at you expectantly.

“Parent Teacher Conferenecs are coming up throughout the week, I need these typed up and reviewed before the end of today.” Larissa instructed you in her professionally cold tone, the tone that she only used for formal principal meeting, events and for you.

You nodded, taking the file, and looking away to blush at the intense eye contact.

“Yes Ms. Weems…” you spoke out, “Is there anything else…?”

Larissa went back to sit at her desk chair, then looking back at you with a stoic face.

“That will be all, Miss Y/N.” The blonde principal calmly stated, “You are excused until my first parent teacher conference, where I will be expecting you to take notes.”

You nodded and murmured, “Yes ma’am…”, before shuffling out of her office and going back to sit back in your tiny assistant area, designated to you by Ms. Weems.

You sat down with a deep sigh, Larissa’s tone internally eating away at you. You hated how cold she always was… You didn’t think you’d ever down anything to her. But you must have. Because the warm, caring, tall Principal that you saw interacting with students and her staff was a shallow, cold bitch to you when you were alone.

For the rest of the day, you made sure to attend all of the woman’s meetings, taking diligent notes and remaining silent, as she would glare at you if you said a word. By the end of the day, you were tired and still had some of the papers for the conferences to finish. You worked until you had completed all of the work Ms. Weems had given you. You walked into Ms. Weems’ office, it was way past time for you to be off for the day, but alas.

“Ms. Weems?” You called, knocking and then opening the door, only to enter when she permitted you.

“Come in…” Larissa hummed, not even taking the moment to meet your gaze in curteous recognition.

You closed the door behind you, before taking a deep breath.

“Here are the conference files you asked me to fill out, along with my notes from today’s meetings…” You spoke, waking up to her desk and handing over the files.

Larissa continued working.

“Leave them here, Miss L/N…” the woman coolly spoke out, “You are excused for tonight. I will see you early tomorrow.”

A wave of frustration came over you, as you left the papers and turned to leave. You felt your eyes begin to water, as her hurtful treatment seemed to finally hit a nerve. Something about today, and maybe all the other times, made you turn swiftly on your heel, back towards the woman.

“Ms. Weems…?” You choked out, your voice faltering.

The woman hummed lightly, letting you know that she heard you, but not giving you the time of day for any eye contact or actual words.

“I…” you walked back to her desk, “Why do you hate me…? Have I… done something…? Is… my work not up to your standard…?” You stammered, your voice breaking throughout your sentences.

At your words, Larissa stopped typing on her computer. She then very slowly raised her head and her intense gaze finally met yours. She then closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose with a deep sigh.

“No Darling, your work is impeccable…” Larissa sighed.

The petname sent warm shivers down your spine and goosebumps across your skin. And at hearing her compliment, a faint blush immediately began to creep up around your cheeks. You were able to take a little sigh of relief at her words, but an underlying pit in your stomache still tugged at you nonetheless.

“Oh—Ok. Then… why do you treat me like…” you stammered, struggling on how to express your feelings without offending your boss.

“Cold? Abrasive? Harsh?” Larissa scoffed at herself, finishing your thought far more direct than you would have ever admitted to.

Your blush deepened and you nodded slowly.

“Yes” you softly stated.

“Because…” Larissa sighed, clasping her hands together and biting her lip before continuing, “I don’t hate you, Darling… Far from it.”

You knew you could hear Larissa’s words, but they didn’t seem to register, as your face was still plastered with confusion and broken spirit.

Larissa’s expression slowly softened at the sight of yours. She then proceeded to stand up, coming over to the other side of her desk, the one closest to you. She indicated for you to sit on the couch by the fire. As she walked to the burning fireplace next to the couch, you scurried to take a seat, then looking up at the woman, whose face was now a myriad of emotions.

“Y/N… You…” Larissa began softly and with the most vulnerable tone you’d ever heard from the formal woman, “You are the most marvelous woman—person, that I’ve ever encountered…”

She paused to take another deep sigh before continuing, “You are brilliant at your job, I have never had anyone do their job as well as you do yours, the passion and effort you put into your work is unmatched. From the very first time I met you, I knew there was something about you. Your personality, your heart is so warm and you are so caring…”

Your eyes widened the more the woman confessed, and your lips parted slightly in shock. You wondered if this was a dream… Where you hearing the woman correctly…?

But when Larissa leaned forward and grasped your hands in hers, you knew this was no dream. Her sapphire gaze bore into yours intensely, and her eyes radiated truth. You gasped lightly at the touch, and found yourself immediately yearning for more. But her gaze and face then turned sad. And in the at moment, you would have some anything to make the tall blonde smile.

“I… I apologize for the way I treated you… I thought… I thought that if I kept you at a distance that I wouldn’t get hurt… But I see now that my actions, while protecting me, ended up hurting you… and that was never my intention, Darling. For that I am truly sorry…”

She squeezed your hands reassuringly, as her remorseful gaze met yours. The realization of the woman’s words started to creep into your mind. A rogue tear managed to slip past your watch, rolling down your cheek. Larissa’s heart nearly broke them and there, having to watch you process your past few months of agony.

“Protect yourself from what…?” You whispered, as you met her gaze once more.

At your question, Larissa looked away and a light rosy blush flushed her cheeks. She sighed once more and then began to chuckle lightly at herself.

“Protect myself from my feelings…” Larissa admitted, biting her lip anxiously, “And now that I think about it, it seems so absurd.”

These words were the final piece of the puzzle that you had spent months searching for. Suddenly, all the pieces came into place, it all made sense. And a wave of calm seemed to flow over you.

Without thought, instinct had you raise your hand and cup the woman’s flushed cheek. Her head immediately swiveled back toward you, her eyes widened at your bold move. But she didn’t pull away, quite the opposite in fact, you found that the woman only leaned into your touch, closing her eyes and letting out a hum in contentment.

“Larissa Weems, are you saying that you like me?” You softly asked, with a little smile and a light twinkle in your eyes.

The woman’s eyes fluttered open and at first, her face was panicked, but once she saw the calm expression on your face, she seemed to relax a little.

“I… I suppose so…” Larissa whispered, her face radiating raw vulnerability.

You smiled even brighter, caressing the woman’s cheek with one hand, as her hands held your other one. The tall blonde then fell gracefully to her knees, now sitting right in between your legs and right up against your couch. And she looked up at you, searching for some, any direction.

“I like you too…” you whispered back.

Larissa entire body seemed to be needing to hear those words, because as soon as they left your mouth, a weight was lifted from the blonde’s soul. And before you knew it, the woman was curling up in your lap. Your jaw threatened to drop, but you restrained yourself. Never in your life had you expected the cold, formal Principal Weems to be in your lap and purring like a content cat.

You gently reached out to her, running your fingers along her tight back hair. She raised her head into your hand with another hum, encouraging you. So you began to take out the pins of the woman’s hair, one by one, until her curls were falling onto your lap and you could run your fingers through her hair freely. The entire time, Larissa was snuggled up in your lap, purring in delight.

You chuckled to yourself, wondering what it would be like if someone walked in… but that thought quickly slipped away, as the ambience of the moment took over your mind. The fireplace crackling and giving a soft glow to the room, seemed to make it all feel more intimate. Not to mention Larissa being literally in your lap, also made it far more intimate..

Time passed naturally, as the woman continued to purr in your lap and you continued to run fingers through her hair, eventually moving to massage her tense shoulders. The blonde let out little whimpers and groans every now and then, which you found to be utterly adorable.

Larissa began adjusting her position for you, so that you could scratch and massage all the itches and tensions littered around her stressed out body. The woman ended up straddling your lap, her head tucked into the crook of your neck as you massaged a particular knot from her upper spine.

She let out a groan as you kneeded the knot out of her tense muscle, inadvertently bucking her hips into your lap and releasing a particularly breathy whimper along with it. Larissa’s mouth opened and her eyes widened in light shock at her overtly sexual actions.

Your eyes sparkled at the shift in tone of the scene, your hands traveling to the woman’s hips, starting to guide her hips to lightly grind against your form beneath her. Larissa’s hands shot to your shoulders as she arched her back and rolled her head back with another groan, this one most definitely sexual. Her eyes fluttered shut as you helped her get off against your frame.

“That’s it… Let me help you relax, Ms. Weems…” you cooed lovingly, eagerly drinking in the other woman’s frame.

“L-Larissa please Darling…” Larissa insisted with another breathy groan, as she continued to grind down against your lap.

You chuckled lightly and nodded.

“Alright Larissa…” you teased her name on your tongue, making the woman melt into a puddle in your lap.

You slowly shifted her frame onto one of your thighs, so that she could grind her core against your tensed thigh more effectively. The blonde was quick to catch on, letting her dress rile up her thighs as she began to put her grinding weight against your tensed muscles.

Larissa let out a mutter of expletives, words that you never would have thought to come out of such a proper woman’s lips. But it felt so right in the moment as the blonde was holding onto you for dear life, as she rutted against your thigh. You could feel the warmth of her pussy on your thigh, as you tightly held her hips and guided her further towards her impending climax.

Breathy whimpers and groans spewed from Larissa’s lips, her eyes were screwed shut tight, all of her previous inhibitions lost, as she unabashedly got herself closer and closer to her high. When she was teetering on the edge, you gripped her hips tighter, keeping her sloppy grinding in a rhythm and your lips snuck to the shell of her ear.

“Cum for me, Larissa… Te ves tan hermosa así… Let go, let it all out.”[You look so beautiful like that…] You purred into the blonde’s ear.

It only took a couple more grinding motions before the woman was coming undone on top of you. Letting out a strangled moan, she rode her high as best as she could before collapsing on top of your chest with heavy panting.

“Eres una chica muy buena, Larissa…”[You’re such a good girl, Larissa…] you praised the blonde.

Larissa couldn’t help but blush, she could recognize praise, even when it wasn’t in English. You let her gather her self in your lap, and the minutes past in comfortable silence. Eventually, Larissa stirred, sitting up once more and meeting your gaze.

“You’re sexy when you speak Spanish…” she breathed out, before her eyes went wide and she instantly began to correct her statement, “What I meant…! You’re always sexy— no I…!”

You hushed Larissa by leaning into her and connecting your lips swiftly with hers. Larissa immediately leaned in, impossibly close to you, her hands coming to cup your cheeks, pulling you even closer. You hummed into the passionate kiss, which seemed to be reigniting Larissa’s lust once more. Not to mention your own…

“You… find this, my Spanish… attractive?” You breathlessly whispered into her lips.

Larissa eagerly nodded before smashing her lips back into yours, and you practically purred in delight. Your lips and teeth began to clash together as hour respective hungers grew. Larissa happily allowed you to slip your tongue inside her mouth, deepening the kiss even further. Pretty soon, the woman was encouraging you to pick her up, which you eagerly did, carrying her to her attached private quarters.

“Eres tan hermosa, mi amor. Quiero mostrarte lo guapa que eres...”[You are so beautiful, my love. I want to show you just how gorgeous you are…] you whispered against her hungry lips, as you devoured one another.

Larissa bucked her hips against your frame and spewed a string of breathy whimpers as a result of your Spanish. You placed Larissa on the center of the bed as your mouth began to wander past the woman’s lips and towards her neck and shoulders… Larissa gasped as you sucked on her pressure point, her hands scrambling to pull you even closer, tugging you onto the bed with her.

Soon, hands were flying to zippers and buttons, as the two of you practically tore each other’s clothes off in the heat and passion of the moment. The blonde’s dress pooled at her feet as you unbuttoned your pants, both being thrown aside, along with your shirt. Your nimble fingers unclipped both her bra and your own, both of which were also tossed aside.

Now left in nothing but your knickers, you guided the woman to lay back on the bed, propping herself up by her elbows. You crawled on top of Larissa, perching yourself to straddle her stomache before connecting your lips together once more. The blonde let out a whimper into your lips, as her hands dropped her fully on the bed and shot to your exposed skin, wandering and feeling their way down your body. Her fingers stopped and paid special attention to your sensitive buds.

“Dios mío, vas a ser mi muerte...”[My God, you’re going to be the death of me…] you breathed out into her lips, her teasing causing you to buck your hips against the blonde’s form.

Another whimper erupted from Larissa’s throat in response, desperate for more friction. You pressed your lips once more time against her plump red ones, a mere ghost of a kiss, before starting to slowly run down her body, paying special attention to each bit of exposed skin that the woman had to offer. Larissa’s one hand shifted to your head, eagerly attempting to push you further down, down to where she needed you most. Her other hand wandered up to her own nipple, teasing and tugging to deepen her own pleasure. When you showed no signs of speeding up your worshiping of the woman’s body, Larissa began to beg,

“Darling P-please… I need you… need you so bad… need it… give it to me—” Larissa chocked out in a mewl.

Your mouth was attached to her left nipple as she spoke, arching her back into your touch. You let go of her tit with a pop!, and then smiled before shimmying your body further down her frame. Lowering your face down to her clothed, needy cunt, you licked a stripe along her underwear, right above her core. Larissa’s knees buckled and her hips jerked upwards, towards your face.

“¿Es esto lo que quieres? Te ves tan bien, cariño…”[Is this what you want? You look so good, my darling] you purred, fanning your hot breath onto her quivering pussy.

You were quick to hold her shaking thighs down, so that she didn’t accidentally suffocate or hit you from her impending intense pleasure. Larissa struggled a little against your firm hold, but as your grip tightened on her thighs, she quickly became even more desperate in her pleading.

“Christ Y/N Please!! Stop teasing and just… just fuck mami please!” Larissa cried out, desperately bucking her hips to encourage any kind of friction with the throbbing heat.

Her face flushed and all her motions came to a halt at the name just uttered from her lips, and the blonde began to stamer.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry, it just… Darling it, slipped out…? I—”

With a chuckle, you hooked your fingers along the waistband of her knickers. Tapping her hips, the woman couldn’t meet your gaze from the embarrassment but nonetheless she instinctually raised her hips and thighs for you. You then pulled off her last garment, throwing it into the abyss. Your eyes sparkled at the sight of Larissa’s glistening cunt. You looked up and met the blonde’s goddess figure and then her lustful, hooded gaze. She nodded in desperation, encouraging you to take her.

With one final teasing, hot breath to the woman’s cunt, you finally gave in and began lapping your tongue through her folds. Her back arched deliciously into your hot touch, her fingers curling in your hair and into the bed sheet. As your tongue flicked her clit, the woman’s head lolled back and her eyes fluttered shut, completely forgetting her verbal slip up for the moment.

“Oh yessss… Yes yes yes…!” She chanted, her mind swimming in overwhelming pleasure.

You swiftly pulled away however, making Larissa’s head shoot up and give you the most needy pout and whimper.

“You can call me Mami if you want too…” you purred wickedly, before swirling two fingers in her wetness and then sliding the digits into her core.

Larissa let out an unbridled groan, her fingers digging into your scalp as her walls fluttered around your fingers. You fucked the woman at a decent pace, pumping and curling your fingers inside her core, paying close attention to what motions made her toes curl especially. Her eyes fluttered closed. Larissa was huffing and whimpering more and more, and soon the sounds turned into full on moans.

“Eyes on me, hermosa…” you lustfully purred, drawing the blondes hooded gaze back to yours.

“Y-yes mami—” Larissa choked out.

Her blown out pupils met your sultry gaze. Her face flushed at the intense eye contact. She held your head in a vice grip as your fingers thrusted inside her expertly and your mouth latched onto her aching clit. Larissa’s back arched desperately in your touch, and one of your hands moved up from her thighs to tease her perked, straining buds.

It didn’t take long for the blonde to be teetering on the edge again…

“Mami mamiiiii…!!” Larissa babbled, shaking her head violently and fighting the urge to screw her eyes shut tight and scream,

“AhgghhhhHhH GOD pleaseeee—!!!” She cried out, her hips thrashing and body spasming.

“Vamos, vamos... Cum for me… lo tienes, mi dulce chica…”[Come on, come on…You’ve got it, my sweet girl…] you purred gently, curling your fingers with huge words to perfectly hit that spongey spot inside the woman’s core.

Larissa’s breath faltered and suddenly her orgasm was washing over her, her juices gushing out of her and onto your fingers as her walls clenched around your fingers. Your tongue eagerly lapped up all the woman’s arousal, practically keening over at her taste. Then with sudden force, the woman’s core squirted all over your fingers and face. You moaned in delight, eagerly taking all that Larissa would give you.

She was so wrapped up in her orgasm, Larissa hadn’t even registered that she had squirted. But even as she came down from her high, the older woman still seemed to be not fully satisfied. She was squirming in pleasure, in need for more, babbling and begging for it…

“Mami mami—por favor, necesito más, necesito más…!!”[Mommy mommy—please, I need more, I need more…] Larissa pleaded with a desperate cry, her hips bucking against your face is desperation.

You nearly moaned into the woman’s cunt at her pleading, her tone, her words, her voice… You couldn’t deny the fact that even broken Spanish sounded sexy on her tongue… It made you shiver with anticipation. With one last lick to her cunt to rock her back from her orgasm, you pulled out of her cunt. Larissa immediately whimpered at the loss of feeling.

“Vale, vale, te escucho, dulce chica… Tell me what you want, bueno chica… Use your words for me…”[Ok ok, I hear you, sweet girl… good girl…] you cooed.

The following sweet babbles that flowed out of the submissive blonde’s mouth were like music to your ears. And you were more than happy to grant any request this woman made of you. Hell, with a simple please from her lips, there was nothing you wouldn’t do for that woman…

~~~

Larissa Weems Masterlist

[bones4thecats]

Hi can u write 🐇 prompt 9 for sanemi shinazugawa ty

🐇Quote-Prompt 9 w/ KnY! Sanemi

Character: Sanemi Shinazugawa Requester: 🍃Anon A/N: I'll nickname you 🍃Anon since that's the emoji I use for Sanemi. Please use that every time if you request in the future, thanks! Also there is mentions of having an adoptive child (allowing the Reader to stay GN). Anyways, I hope you enjoy this!! ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Nothing ⚠️

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Sanemi Shinazugawa ══════════════════════╝

🍃 Whenever your husband was sent out on a mission for a prolonged time, he would send you many letters. And when the mission was finished, he would send his crow back to give you a letter with a small object that he found in a nearby town that he figured you'd like

🍃 As he was strained from his work, he took a deep breath as he saw your shared estate come into view. The sound of little snores from your young adoptive-son laying his head on a pillow making Sanemi chuckle and pick him up to put him to bed

"You shouldn't be staying up whenever I come home, Rai."

🍃 As he tucked the young boy in his futon, pulling a blanket onto him, he heard footsteps behind him, which caused him to look up with his sword at the ready just in case

🍃 Sanemi then noticed you were standing there with a small smile, which allowed him to lower his guard back down and mess with his son's hair slightly

🍃 The Wind Hashira then stood up and walked up to you, wrapping his arms around your midsection and kissing your forehead gently. You then looked up and him and motioned for him to follow you to bed

🍃 Thankfully, your husband had bathed right before he came home, so he wasn't drenched in sweat. So, as he laid down next to you, you weren't bombarded with his stench like you were the first few times you were sharing a home with him

🍃 You laid on your right side as Sanemi held you from behind, laying his chin on your shoulder and allowing his hand to mess with yours while his other was stuffed underneath your stomach and holding your waist

"It's good to be laying beside you again, my Love."

"I agree."

🍃 You could feel his slightly rough fingers messing with your softer ones before interlocking in the same way they did when he confessed to you back when you were younger

"Y'know Y/N, I like how your hand looks in mine." He admitted, a slight coat of blush laying on his cheeks.

"I agree." You mocked his voice as you spoke, making him chuckle sleepily as you nuzzled your head into his own as he slightly moved with his voice.

🍃 Sanemi raised your hand to his mouth and gave it a loving kiss before tilting his head once more to kiss your cheek and then your lips before allowing his eyes to close fully and begin to finally rest properly after the multiple days away

"I love you, my dear."

"I love you as well, Sanemi."

[bbunnyyy]

All The Stars~ PT.4

BAKUGOU X READER SECRET ADMIRER PT.4

A/N: It's been a while my lovelies :3 Also, this was written before the poll so Bakugou uses the nickname 'bunny' for the reader.

ALL THE STARS PT.1 | ALL THE STARS PT.3

Bakugou gulped as he heard the pairings, heart beating out of his chest. Blinking, he stared right at you, his expression unreadable. You gave him a nervous smile as you walked to the centre of the ground with Bakugou catching up to you.

"There will be two rounds, The first will be hand-to-hand combat with usage of quirks prohibited." Aizawa Sensei spoke through the speakers- tired of his class already.

You looked up at Bakugou as you walked alongside him. You observed his gruff expression and furrowed eyebrows as his shoulders moved slightly with every step he took. His tank top did wonders for his physique- you could almost see the outline of his abs. How wondered what kind of boyfriend he would be. Would he be rude to you as he is with everyone, yet soft and warm behind closed doors? Or would he treat you with courtesy and love in his every action, regardless of who was watching? Would he be the type to be mean to everyone else, a soft spot for you? Licking your dry lips, you sighed. What was it with you and this hopeless romance of yours?

Your gaze didn't falter as Bakugou's mouth went dry. He felt like he'd throw up, throw up the mass of muscle that was beating violently in his chest. You were so dangerous, having this effect on him.

"Holy FUCK. Why is she looking at me?? Do I have something on my face? Is there something on my teeth? Darn it, I forgot to brush after breakfast." Bakugou thought, while his teeth caught onto the rough leather of his gloves, freeing his hands to wipe his sweaty hands on his pants. "Are you okay, Bakugou-kun?" You questioned cautiously, leaning closer into him. You could smell the glycerin on his skin- you wondered what he'd taste like, maybe you could convince him to let you have a little lick? Stupid brain. Bakugou would probably AP shot you into the sun if he could hear your thoughts. Snapping out of your thoughts, You gently placed your hand on his shoulder, looking at him for an answer.

Katsuki Bakugou melted into your touch. Katsuki Bakugou could almost see his future. Katsuki Bakugou could almost imagine how married life would be. Regaining his composure, Katsuki Bakugou cleared his throat to answer you- "It's nothing." He brushed your hand off his shoulder, he was scared his heart would beat out of his ribcage.

You held your hand in your other, feeling like a bother. Of course he's okay. He's THE Bakugou Katsuki. Nothing could phase him. He did look like he was distracted, even if he had nothing on his mind. Your gaze lowered to the ground, spinning on your heel to keep walking.

☾

Bakugou's explosions sent Mina and Kaminari tumbling backwards. The ground underneath you trembled prompting you to plant your feet firmly into the ground as you sucked the inside of your cheek. The dumb blonde wasn't good at teamwork, pissing you off. The force of his explosions had sent you tumbling two times already- how were you supposed to win this match if he wasn't willing to work together? You looked at your feet as the floor under you shook. Uh oh. The floor was about to give way as a pair of warm hands grabbed onto your waist, pulling you back. You watched on as the floor went crashing down, debris creating a cloud of dust and plaster.

Aizawa Sensei pinched the bridge of his nose, instructing Midnight to press the emergency button. Red lights flashed throughout the ground, alerting both the teams to stop and evacuate the building.

"Do you know how dangerous that was, Bakugou?" Aizawa Sensei asked sternly. "I'm sorry, sensei." Bakugou said through gritted teeth, head hung in shame. "Sorry doesn't cut it. What if there were civilians in the building during such a blunder? You caused the foundation of a forty-two-story building. Do you understand the implications of such a HUGE mistake?" Aizawa looked at the four of you and shook his head in disappointment. You and Mina stood shoulder to shoulder, too ashamed to even look at the Erasure hero. Aizawa took a deep breath out. "All of you, Recovery Girl's office. Detention's at 5. Class Dismissed for the rest of you."

The air was tense as Kaminari placed his hand on Bakugou's shoulder before walking away with Ashido, who just shook her head in disappointment. Bakugou's jaw was clenched tight as his nails dug into his palm. Sighing, you walked towards him as the rest of the class filtered out the arena. Bakugou seethed in silence. He was mad, mad at himself. How could he have been distracted? Such mistakes could cost thousands of lives during a real attack. He wanted to punch himself in the face, how could he have fucked up? Breathing out, he looked at you- the source of his distraction.

"What're you looking at? Is there something on my face?" Bakugou snapped, clicking his tongue. "Matter of fact, there is. Oh, wait. You're just ugly." You cringed at your statement. What the FUCK were you thinking. What kind of third-grader insult was that? You were ready to crawl into a hole and disappear. Any chance of any 'romance' with him was dead now. Dead. Six feet under.

In one swift motion, Bakugou kicked your heels knocking the ground out from under you. You yelped and tried to grab onto him, trying not to fall. Bakugou grabbed your waist as he pushed you into a wall, your back in full contact with the cold concrete. This pillar was out of the line of sight of any camera- He knew that. You knew that. You gulped, head swarming with thoughts of what Bakugou was going to do now. His slender fingers gripped your throat. Instinctively, you circled your fingers around his wrist. He caressed your Adam's apple as it bobbed while you gulped. He brought his head towards yours, taunting you. "You wouldn't give me looks like that if you found me ugly, bunny." He said, not breaking eye contact with you.

Bakugou's grip on your neck served as a warning. His red eyes seemed to look through your soul. You should be scared, scared for you life, scared about what he was going to do to you- but here you were, rubbing your thighs together as his fingers pressed against your throat. Bakugou loosened his grip, taking a step back as he pulled his arm away. "Seeya at detention, airhead."

☾

THE ROOM FOR DETENTION was small. The four walls were white, devoid of any vents or windows. The room fit six benches and a teacher's table behind which Hound Dog snored away. You propped your head up with the back of your hand as you played with your pencil. Half an hour ago, Aizawa Sensei had walked into the classroom to write a sentence on the small blackboard-

"I will not be reckless."

Your fingers ached as you wrote the sentence for the five hundredth time. Mina was busy trying to look for a way to sneak out. You looked at Kaminari who was trying to balance a pen above his lips. The pen clattered against the white tiles of the room for the hundredth time as he failed once again. Bakugou slammed his fist on the table in frustration and pulled out a sheet of paper from his pocket. You and Kaminari exchanged a wordless glance and Bakugou cleared his throat to announce that he had sneaked in a sheet of math problems (how sacrilegious) because detention was a 'waste of time'.

"Bakubro, you should've sneaked in a Gameboy or your phone- why math sums? It's the one thing brain numbing-er than detention." Kaminari said, holding his head in his hands going crazy.

"Shut up, nerd." Bakugou sneered. You pulled up a chair next to Bakugou, bored enough to study for the upcoming tests.

☾

Bakugou stared at you as you sucked on your bottom lip, focused on solving the sum in front of you. You looked so cute when you furrowed your eyebrows like that. Mina and Kaminari sneaked out the classroom a long time ago, leaving you and Bakugou alone with Hound Dog who was out cold. Bakugou's elbow brushed against yours- you could feel the heat radiate off each other in the stuffy classroom. You sucked in a sharp breath as your focus broke, batting your eyelashes. Katsuki Bakugou's pen came in contact with your head as you flinched. "Dumb bunny." He sounded out, hitting the top of your head with the back of his pen. "You've got this sum all wrong." He leaned into you, his chest pressed against your arm. Your muscles relaxed instantly- his presence was strangely comforting.

Another hour passed with your bodies pressed against each other, Bakugou helping you solve math sums. He smelled just like burnt sugar, his scent almost lulling you to sleep. "How 'bout we get outta here? It's really fucking hot." Bakugou said, breathing out. His shirt was half unbuttoned, revealing his toned chest as he leaned against the back of the wooden chair. Before you got any words out to confirm or deny Bakugou's suggestion, you found yourself getting dragged out the classroom by your wrist. You almost tripped over your own feet as you tried to keep pace with the blonde.

Bakugou lead you up the fire exit's staircase to UA's rooftop. The sun had started to set, painting the sky a beautiful orange. The soft breeze ruffled Bakugou's hair, reminding you of a wet dog trying to dry its fur. Bakugou closed his eyes, taking a minute to enjoy the cool breeze. You took a seat on the ledge, swinging your legs off the roof. Bakugou followed suit, taking a seat next to you as he placed his palm flat on your back. His hand trailed slowly to rest on your shoulder, giving you goosebumps. Bakugou avoided your gaze, staring at the sunset. Your heart skipped a beat as you gathered the courage to lean into Bakugou, resting your head on his shoulder.

.

.

"There's something I want to tell you, Bakugou-kun." You admit. "Mm, What is it?" Bakugou asks, glancing at you. "Actually, I.."

PT.5 will be out in the next few days hehe TAGLIST: @marslikeswildflowers @lovra974 @kawliflo @shyshybabyy @sikuthealien @mirophobic @nemisimp @i-simp-to-much

Thank you for keeping up with the series~

[withleeknow]

Can I req something for the milestone event with lee know using this prompt „time passes slower without you.”? ✨

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

patience is a virtue, everybody knows that.

you know it too. the only issue? patience is a virtue that you don't have.

you're an impatient person by nature, born with an inherent restlessness within your bones that keys you up more often than you'd like to admit. in school, you were always thinking about your next degree. with work, you're always thinking about the next big thing, the future position you'll hopefully land once you gain enough experience. you're always waiting for something else, constantly looking forward to the days ahead instead of living in the now. it's a personal flaw, you're well aware of this.

it happens when it comes to even the most mundane things. what cafe should you try next weekend, even if you're not even half done with the caramel macchiato you're holding in your hands? what movie should you watch next, even if the one playing on your tv screen hasn't gone into its second act yet?

your impatience already flares up on a daily basis, but it's even more amplified and unbearable whenever minho is away. it doesn't help that he's often gone for weeks, if not months on end. you're always counting down the days until he's back before he's even out the door.

"just one more week, yeah?"

his words hang heavy in the silence of your bedroom. your phone is on speaker, set against the pillow next to yours so you could pretend like he's here with you when you close your eyes. you try to facetime every day even if it's only for fifteen, twenty minutes. just to catch up on each other's day and at least see each other for a while before you go to sleep. it's bittersweet, being able to look at him and hear him talk but only from the digital void of your phone.

even though you tend to hide from him how you really feel, how much you actually miss him and wish for him to be back by your side, you think it must still bleed through from time to time. be it the subtle way your voice drops during conversation or how your eyes glaze over with sadness just a little bit when you stare at his handsome face for too long on video call.

you know minho is trying to comfort you. he wouldn't be a very good partner if he can't tell that his own girlfriend is having a hard time without him, would he? and it's not like you bitch and moan any chance you get. no, you always try to hide it from him because it's not his fault that he has to be away sometimes, not like he's choosing to leave you just for the fun of it.

you know his gentle reminder is meant to mitigate your ache, but it only makes you be more aware of how time doesn't seem to pass when he's not here. the clock stops ticking the second he's gone, and you feel like you have to drag yourself through every minute of every hour and repeat the process for days and weeks and months.

"one week is too long," you say quietly. "time passes slower without you."

seven days. one hundred and sixty eight hours. ten thousand and eighty minutes. it's practically nothing compared to the time that has already passed, but that doesn't mean that you get to miss him any less even though it's only a two-hour flight away.

minho doesn't really reply directly to what you said. instead, he tries to distract you with anecdotes of his day - like a funny looking pigeon he saw on the street earlier or a cute photo of soonie that his mom sent him. it works a little. he considers it a success when you crack a smile and giggle at his theatrics.

he keeps the conversation light until you're biting back a yawn and he knows it's time to let you get some rest. even when you're saying your goodnights, neither of you mention what day it'll be tomorrow. you're sure that in the morning you'll wake up to messages from him - not entirely poetic because it's not his specialty, but they'll still be infinitely and wonderfully sincere. you don't bring it up in case he feels guilty, and you think he doesn't bring it up because the reminder that he won't be here might make you sleep restlessly tonight.

you fall asleep with a little bit of a heavy heart, and wake up when the sound of your doorbell ringing fills your apartment at precisely 7:06am. the other side of the bed still cold and devoid of your minho, but it's not the first thing that you notice like you do every morning.

no, the first thing that you register today is the vivid discomfort of having your peace disturbed so early on when it should be a day that you get to spend feeling nothing but comfort and contentment. or at least, as content as you can get without minho here. you carry that irritation with you all the way to the front door, wild bedhead and all.

the door swings open.

you're a deer in the headlights and suddenly your displeasure is vanished, gone in a second like it was never there to begin with.

"surpriseee!"

a sheepish greeting.

you rub your eyes, then pinch yourself on the arm.

you're not really sure what happens next. it's all just a blur of tears and ugly sobbing as you launch yourself into his arms, almost making him knock into the suitcase that's still perched right beside him. the bouquet of peonies in his hand becomes an unfortunate victim as it falls to the floor after the impact, but minho leaves it be, in favor of holding you as tightly as you're holding onto him.

his fingers tangled in your hair, your arms wound around his neck securely like you're afraid you're still dreaming and he'll disappear if you let go. you don't question why he's here; you just accept that he is.

minho peppers warm kisses to your cheeks, your jawline, your forehead and your lips. it's graceless and it's damp from your tears but neither of you could bring yourself to care. he murmurs with an upward quirk of his mouth where he's pressing his smile to your lips, all affection, all love. "happy birthday, baby."

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos @mjnhoz @caitlyn98s @piercidh34rts  @stayceebs97 @linocz @yaorzu-blog @biribarabiribbaem @kayleefriedchicken @extrhotjne @caitxx1 @palindrome969 @todorokiskitten @azuna-sz @meanergreener @nxzz-skz @jazziwritesthings @poutypoutybin @bookyeom @jisuperboard @wyzminho @amarecerasus @channection @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @judeduartewannabe @chanshyunjin @firelordtsuki @astronomicallyyy @alm334 @lashaemorow (italicized = can't tag)

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 28.03.2024]

[topguncortez]

Leave the Lights On - B. Bradshaw

whumptober masterlist || previous day

prompt: forced to stay awake

synopsis: Bradley goes back to work for the first time since him and Dragon welcomed their baby boy into the world. Dragon comes to face to face with her darkest thoughts.

warnings: postpartum depression, suicidal thoughts, mentions of a c-section, mentions of having a child in the NICU, crying, infant neglect (not serious or life threatening), mentions of parental death, mentions of previous miscarriages, mental breakdown

word count: 2.9k

Dragon knew that motherhood wasn’t going to be easy on her. She never really was the nurturing, lovey dovey type of person. Sure, she could give someone a hug and comfort them when it was needed. But she didn’t know how she was going to be as a mother. She grew up watching her own mother stay in a loveless marriage with her father, and the older she got, the colder she got towards her kids. She knew that Bradley was raised by a woman who was basically a saint. The stories Maverick and Bradley had told her during her pregnancy had Dragon wishing that Carole Bradshaw was around to show her how to do this. 

“Are you sure you are okay with me going back?” Bradley asked, looking at his wife through the bathroom mirror. He was finally returning to work after four months off.

After the emergency c-section and spending nearly a month in the NICU with his son, Cash, Bradley had asked for extended paternity leave, not wanting to leave Dragon alone just yet. She had a harder time recovering than they originally thought. She pushed herself too hard the first couple of days they were home, trying to finish up the final touches, and ended up ripping her incision open. And then came the side effects of having a baby in the NICU. Dragon fell into a depression, something she would never admit out loud, but both Bradley and Y/N Seresin agreed, Dragon checked all the boxes for postpartum depression. Her milk had also come in while Cash was in the hospital. Without having to wake up for regular feedings, she got mastitis, leading to one of the worst weeks of her life. Having to pump and freeze milk for a baby she hadn’t even held in her arms yet. 

“Rooster if you don’t go back today, I will shove my boot so far up your ass-” 

“Language,” Rooster chided, looking down at the infant in her arms, nursing happily from her, “I just don’t want to leave if you aren’t ready for me to be gone. We had a rough night last night.” 

Dragon sighed, looking down at Cash. The little boy didn’t sleep much, crying and screaming for most of the night. Hell, it has been that way for most of the last two weeks. Dragon and Bradley had tried every trick in the book to try and help their son, their doctor assuring them that there was nothing medically wrong with Cash. He was just colicky, crying incessantly for really no good reason. Penny had come over the other day, knowing exactly what the new parents were going through and gave them some tips and tricks. But it still didn’t make their lives any easier.

“I have to be ready for you to be gone at some point. Might as well start when you’re right down the street, versus across the pacific ocean.” 

Rooster nodded his head, knowing that this was the best way to ease into their new lives. It was uncharted territory for the both of them. Sure, they had plenty of friends in the Navy who had kids and were raising families. But they didn’t know anyone who had both spouses in the Navy, both TopGun pilots, and were both raising a new family. They didn’t know what their future was going to look like; would both of them be deployed at the same time? Would one of them have to move from the unit? Would one of them have to walk away from flying completely? But they both knew that starting with returning to daily work activities was better than being sent on a deployment somewhere. 

“Y/N said she can come over and help you, if you need it,” Bradley said, pulling his flight suit up his muscular thighs. 

“I know,” Dragon sighed, moving Cash from her chest, and setting him up to burp him, “I think if I need anything I’ll call Val.” 

“Why?” Bradley’s eyebrows furrowed, “Why bother Val and not Y/N?” 

“You know why,” Dragon muttered, pressing her nose into Cash’s head. One thing for certain, there was no denying this boy was a Bradshaw. Dragon had joked that she was surprised he didn’t pop out the womb with a mustache. But the dark curls on his head and big brown eyes were a dead give away for who his dad is. It almost made Dragon jealous how much they looked alike. 

“Baby,” Bradley sighed, sitting down on the bed next to her, his hand on her thigh, “She wants to help, and I think it would be therapeutic for her to help. Please, just keep that in mind.” Dragon nodded her head, and Bradley leaned up to place a kiss on her cheek, “Now give me my boy, woman.” 

Dragon chuckled, handing their son over to his father. Dragon couldn’t believe it, but she had fallen more in love with Bradley Bradshaw the moment she saw him become a father. He had truly become the definition of a gentle giant, Cash looking so small in his arms. Every time Dragon was up for those late night feedings, Bradley was up too, either helping her get Cash latched on, or cleaning him up. Dragon couldn’t have asked for a better partner to help her and Cash. 

“Are you sure I need to go back?” Bradley asked, pressing Cash’s cheek against his, “I think I need to stay another day.” 

“I think you need to get out of this house and back to the sky,” Dragon leaned back against the bed, “One of us needs to get back to the sky.” 

Bradley sighed, “Yeah, I know,” Bradley looked back at Cash, “I wonder if this is what my dad felt.” 

In the past six months, Bradley had been thinking more and more about his father. There were times that Bradley wished he could just pick up the phone and call his dad, asking him for advice. He hated whenever he would get jealous watching Maverick and Penny fawn over Cash like he was their own grandchild, and in a way he was. But it still wasn’t the same, and it would never be the same for Bradley. 

“Probably,” Dragon said, climbing out of bed and over to her boys, “I think every parent feels like this in our situation. I don’t think it ever gets any easier.” 

“I just hate thinking. . . when I was Cash’s age, my dad only had like two years left to spend with me,” Bradley shook his head, feeling that familiar burn behind his eyes, “And my mom. . . I know that she would be here and I think that’s what sucks more.” 

“I know,” Dragon rubbed his shoulder, “And I wish she could be here too.” And Dragon truly meant that. She loved having Penny around, having that pseudo-grandmother around to do things like the laundry and make dinner and remind Dragon to change her shirt because there was spit-up on it. But it still wasn’t the same, as it would be if Carole Bradshaw was there. Penny didn’t overstep, she stayed in her lane and would only ask to do certain things or if she could pick up and hold Cash. Dragon knew that if Carole was here, she wouldn’t ask to do certain things, she would just do them. 

“No,” Bradley shook his head, “I can’t go back today. It’s too soon,” Bradley handed Cash back to Dragon, and bent down to kick his boots off. 

“Stop it right there, Lieutenant Bradshaw,” Dragon commanded, making her husband look up at him, “You are going back to your assignment.” 

“Is this a command, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw?” 

“It is,” Dragon nodded, “You need to go back to work,” Bradley stood up, “We will be fine. I’m going to be home for another three months and I need to learn how to do it on my own. So please, go back to work.” 

Bradley sighed, dropping his head in defeat, “Okay, okay. I’ll go. But if you need anything, please, please call me. I don’t care if I am up in the air or not, please.” 

“I will, I promise,” Dragon nodded her head, “Now please, go before the MPs show up at the front door.” 

Bradley nodded his head, taking a deep breath, “Okay. Bye Cash,” He said, running his knuckle down his boy’s cheek, “Please be good for your mommy.” 

Dragon stood in the living room, looking out the big bay window as Bradley loaded up his truck (something he had gotten after they found out they were expecting). Bradley paused for a moment before getting into the driver’s seat, looking back at the house, and then getting in. Dragon smiled to herself, knowing this was one step into getting things back to normal. She loved Cash with all her heart and was so happy to be a mother, but she also wanted things to get back to normal. She hated how everything just seemed to abruptly change. Her daily routine had changed, her workout schedule had changed, hell, even her eating schedule had changed. Sure she was used to having to make quick changes in her job, but it was never anything like this. 

“Alright little guy,” Dragon whispered looking down at her son, who was strapped into the soft carrier on her chest, “It’s just you and me.” Cash started to stir, a tiny whine leaving his lips, “Okay, okay, we’re gonna be fine.” Dragon shushed him, bouncing lightly, “We’re gonna be fine.” 

And Dragon thought she was going to be okay. For most of the morning, Cash had slept in the carrier, while Dragon moved around the house, doing small housekeeping things that she had been putting off. Their house wasn’t necessarily dirty, but it wasn’t as clean as it could be, as it used to be. Both Dragon and Bradley are clean freaks, but since having a child, they let things slip. 

It was late morning, when Dragon had woken Cash up to feed and then put him on the playmat for tummy time that everything seemed to hit the fan. Cash wasn’t a good eater, sometimes he hardly ate and sometimes he ate too quickly, causing his stomach to hurt. Dragon and Bradley had tried everything to get to help him, from having timed cluster feedings to switching different formulas. Dragon should’ve known, watching as he fussed around during his feeding that something wasn’t right, and the moment she set him down, a meltdown was going to ensue. 

“Cash,” Dragon cooed, picking up the screaming baby, “Oh no, what’s wrong?” She patted his back gently, “C’mon we were doing so good, baby.” 

Cash’s screams were ear piercing as Dragon tried to soothe him, switching from using his pacifier to grabbing his favorite Sophie the giraffe toy (gifted by Fanboy). But nothing seemed to soothe the baby. Dragon tried feeding him again, thinking that maybe he didn’t eat well enough and was hungry. She lost track of how many times she had checked and changed his diaper. She even walked around in circles in the backyard, thinking the fresh air was going to help. Nothing seemed to soothe him, nothing at all. 

“Cash,” Dragon felt herself getting frustrated, “Please stop,” Her nose began to prick with the telltale sign of tears beginning to form, “Please, please stop crying. I don’t know how to help you!” She felt like she was out of options, going through a mental list of everything she had seen Penny do last time Cash was inconsolable like this. “Do you want to take a bath? Hm? Will that help your tummy?”  

Dragon walked up the stairs to her shared bedroom, putting Cash into the bassinet. His crying seemed to grow louder as she put him down. Dragon rubbed her temples, trying to soothe the migraine that was forming from the loud shrieks. It broke her heart to listen to him carry on like this, knowing that there wasn’t much she could do to help him. 

“Just a minute, baby, I will make it better,” Dragon whispered, putting his pacifier in his mouth, before walking into the bathroom. It was like she had gone on autopilot, her eyes glossing over a bit as she got everything set up for his bath, putting the plastic tub in and then turning the water on. Dragon sat down by the edge of the tub, dangling her hand over the side, to test the water temperature, the sound of Cash’s tears a little quieter behind the closed door. For a moment, Dragon closed her eyes, revealing in the break from the screaming and getting a moment to herself. 

— — —

Bradley had a hard time focusing. It was hard trying to get back into the full swing of work, but also having a newborn at home. He had sent Dragon several texts in the morning wondering how Cash was. He hadn’t felt one hundred percent confident leaving Dragon at home alone with the way Cash had been for the past couple of weeks. Of course he trusted Dragon, but Bradley knew how hard everything had been for her. It was around noon that Maverick had enough of walking by Bradley’s office and seeing him check his baby monitor app, and sent him home. Bradley had never left that place so quickly in his life. 

He hardly put the car in park, as he jumped out, grabbing his duffle bag and making a beeline for the door. A smile was on his face as he pushed the door open, ready to yell out his wife’s name, but it quickly fell upon hearing the distant sound of his son crying. 

“Dragon?” Bradley called out, closing the door and setting his bag down. He went to the kitchen, looking around and finding it vacant, “Dragon!?” He called again, and paused to hear a response. Instead he heard the sound of running water, and immediately ran towards the stars, “Grace!” 

Bradley felt his heartbeat in his ears as he burst through the bedroom door, the sound of Cash’s cries intensifying. He quickly made his way to the bassinet by the side of the bed, his heart breaking at seeing Cash’s little face scrunched up, red with tears streaming. His loud wails didn’t cover up the sound of rushing water from the bathroom or the squelch of the carpet underneath BRadley’s boots. Torn, Bradley picked up his son first, his loud cry indicating that he needed comfort. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Bradley cooed, looking down at his five months old face, “What’s the tears for? Where’s your momma?” Bradley brushed a finger over his son’s cheeks, “This what you need?” The blue pacifier that was clearly in his mouth before had fallen out of his reach. He gently put the pacifier into the baby’s mouth and the crying ceased, “There ya go, buddy. All better.” 

Bradley watched his son for a moment, watching as Cash happily suckled away on the pacifier, before putting him back down in the bassinet. He stood over him for a moment, making sure Cash wasn’t going to start crying again, before rushing towards the bathroom door. The door was unlocked, as Bradley came face to face to a room full of steam, and his wife on the floor, passed out, in a puddle of water from the flooded bathtub.  

“Dragon!” Bradley rushed to her side, dropping down to his knees in front of her. He gently shook her, and she immediately woke up, her frantic eyes looking around the steamed up, flooded bathroom. She quickly moved towards the bathtub, but Bradley grabbed her arms, “Hey, it’s okay.” Tears instantly welled in her eyes as she looked at Bradley, “Oh hey, it’s okay.” 

“No it’s not!” Dragon was breathing rapidly, “W-Where’s Cash!?” Dragon pushed Bradley’s hands off of her, looking around the bathroom, “Oh my god, where is-” 

“Hey, Grace, look at me,” Bradley grabbed her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him, “He’s okay. He’s in his bassinet, fast asleep. What’s going on? What’s wrong?” 

“I really, really tried,” Her lip trembled as the dam broke, and the tears came out. Bradley pulled her into his arms, his hand cradling the back of her head. He rocked her slightly back and forth, trying to soothe her. “He just wouldn’t stop.” 

“It’s okay,” Bradley tried reasoning with her, but he knew that she was too far gone in her head for it to make any sense, “He’s okay.” 

“It’s not!” Dragon yelled, “Oh my god, what if he was in the bath! What if I-” 

“No,” Bradley shook his head, “No what ifs, because that’s not what happened. You are tired, that’s normal. You got stressed out and didn’t know what to do. But most importantly, you didn’t hurt Cash. He is okay.” 

“He’s okay,” Dragon repeated, nodding her head, “He’s okay.” 

“He’s okay,” Bradley said back to her, “But, are you okay?” 

Dragon let out a shaky breath, “Sometimes, I don’t know if I can do this anymore. I love my son, I really do. . . but I think. . . I think he could be better off without me.” 

“What do you mean?” Bradley asked as soft as he could, “You don’t think-” 

More tears ran down Dragon’s face as she hid her face into Bradley’s neck. It was embarrassing to her to admit it out loud, the dark things she thought about in the middle of the night, while Cash laid in her arms. How could a mother think like that? How could she think like that? Knowing what Bradley went through at such a young age, losing his dad and then his mother. How could she even have thoughts of leaving her child motherless? But they were fleeting thoughts, when Cash wouldn’t stop crying or she was having a hard time producing milk, or doing anything to help her son. It was those thoughts of ‘he would be better off without me’, ‘they both would be better off without me’, that crossed her mind. 

“I’m so sorry,” Dragon sobbed and Bradley held her tighter. All he could do was hold her and press soft kisses to the side of her head. 

taglist: @damrlova @shanimallina87 @mygyn @cherrycola27 @sio-ina-bottle @seitmai @topgun-imagines @bradleybeachbabe @xoxabs88xox @atarmychick007 @munsonswhore86 @happypopcornprincess @sophiaslastbraincell @bradswolfe @fandom-princess-forevermore @angelbabyange @genius2050 @lovelywiseprincess @krismdavis @eternallyvenus @dakotakazansky @pono-pura-vida @callsignartemis @starberryhorse @carsgeek24 @daggersquadphantom @gspenc @els-marvelvsp @nyx2021 @t0kyoreveng3rs @frazie99 @spencvrr @kmc1989 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @malindacath @senawashere @bradshawsprincess

[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

The One

Prompt: Hours away from your wedding, you visit Gibbs, needing to ask him a question that’s been on your mind for years.

Various family members had come in and out of your room, helping you get ready for your wedding that was set to happen in 6 hours. It wasn’t a big venue, just mainly close family and friends and their plus ones. The location was a botanical garden your fiancé’s parents had decided on, even after you had voiced that you preferred it in a small church. During most of the wedding planning you didn’t get much say at all, all of it being organized by your future mother in law who felt she knew best.

Your fiancé was too submissive to go against his parents wishes, not wanting to ruffle anyone’s feathers at the cost of making you feel unimportant.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, hair finished as your curls fell over your shoulders and sighed. Something was keeping you uneasy all morning. You could just blame it on cold feet but that wouldn’t explain why you couldn’t stop thinking about a certain someone that wasn’t your husband to be. You looked down at the multiple unanswered texts you had sent him throughout the day, telling him you really wished to see him at the wedding.

He was your friend of 5 years, you two met on a joint operations case between the FBI and NCIS. The both of you kept in touch, meeting up for a quick cup of coffee and chat almost every week. You would be lying if you said you never thought of him more than just a friend but for whatever reason, it never exceeded friendly conversations and occasional late night cafe dinners. The last thing you wanted was to ruin your friendship by catching feelings that most likely weren’t returned.

4 years later and multiple bad breakups later, you found the one you wanted to marry. Or at least think you did. Sure, the two of you weren’t as compatible as you’d like but it’ll work itself out with time, right?

Another big sigh from you, it became clear what you were gonna have to do. Getting up and dressing into something casual, you grabbed your keys and left your room. No one stopped to see where you were going, all too worried about whatever task they had been given by mother in lawzilla, so getting in your car and leaving went smoothly.

The drive wasn’t long as you pulled into the quiet neighborhood and parked just outside his house. His old truck parked in the driveway told you he was there as your hands suddenly became clammy with nervousness. You got out of your car and made your way up to his door. You knew it was unlocked and all you needed to do was walk in but you were frozen. You hadn’t thought your plan all the way through and now your head was filling with doubts.

As if your body knew something you didn’t, your hand opened the door and your legs carried you in. Surely, he had heard you come in so there was no turning back now. The house was quiet except the sound of power tools being used from down below.

The floor creaked as you walked towards the basement and began to descend the stairs. You were going to call out his name in announcement but he was already standing there looking up at you. Dressed in a plain blue plaid button down and some cargo pants slightly dusted in wood shavings, it was a good look for him.

“Hey Jethro,” you started.

“Hey Y/N.”

You made it to the bottom of the stairs and continued until he was only a few feet in front of you.

“You haven’t been answering any of my texts.”

He licked his lips and looked down guiltily before responding. “I know.”

Feeling antsy, you walked over to the boat and ran your hands over the newly sanded edges. He took that time to grab two small glasses and pour 2 fingers of his whiskey in them, handing you one.

You took a bigger sip than necessary, hoping it would help the building anxiety.

“I can’t believe I’m getting married in less than 6 hours,” you said, leaning against his workbench.

“Lucky man,” he responded flatly.

“Is he?” He gave you a look of inquiry. “I mean we don’t have that much in common. His parents don’t really like me and..”

You stopped, refraining yourself from finishing the sentence and took another sip of the whiskey.

“I don’t know. I mean did you think your ex wife was gonna be the one when you married her? Marriage is a big deal, you don’t just go and marry anyone. What’s so special about me?”

“I don’t think I’m the one to ask about marriage,” he said with a short chuckle. “But I’m sure he has many reasons why you’re special to him.”

“I don’t know Jethro. I never really thought in depth about our relationship until now. It almost feels as if the last year and a half was a blur, nothing standing out too much. Our relationship isn’t like what they describe in all the romantic books and movies. Sometimes I feel like he’s more of a platonic friend than fiancé.”

“Then why say yes to marrying him?”

You didn’t have a straight answer for his question. The proposal had gone so fast and in public, you didn’t have much time to think about it without looking like you were gonna say no.

“I don’t really know. Because it was the logical choice? We’ve been together for almost 2 years now.”

He shook his head and swirled the amber liquid in his mason jar, taking a step towards you.

“You don’t marry someone because it’s logical Y/N. You marry them because you can’t see yourself with anyone else and want nothing more than to spend every day coming home to them. You marry all of their traits that you fell in love with, including the weird ones. Marriage is a team effort and if you aren’t both absolutely on the same page, it’ll never work.”

Tears welled in your eyes, his words making you realize just how dumb you have been. You knew your fiancé wasnt your soulmate. You had more in common with Jethro than him. And that’s what bugged you the most. Being best friends with the person you wanted something more from and not having the courage to say anything. But now it’s time. It’s time for you to know if there could’ve been anything between you and Jethro.

“I just need you to answer one question Jethro. Is there something more between us than just being friends? Because every time I’m with you, I can’t think straight. I enjoy every moment we spend together and can’t wait for the next one. You always make me feel so happy and cared for but am I alone in those feelings?”

He sighed and finished his drink, turning to walk away.

“Don’t ignore the question Jethro! Please. Just talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say Y/N? That I’m jealous that your boyfriend of 1 year gets to marry you instead of me? He doesn’t know you. He doesn’t know that you like to look up at the stars at night when you’ve had a bad day at work. He doesn’t know that you actually have a PhD in science but don’t tell anyone because you don’t want to feel like you’re better than anyone else.”

He turned back, now headed your way, confessions continuing to spill from his mouth.

“I bet he doesn’t notice the way you arch your eyebrow when you’re lying. Or how you pour half a gallon of milk into your coffee after adding a cup of sugar. You’re right Y/N. There is something more between us but it’s too late. You’re gonna marry him and I’ll be there for you just as your friend.”

You let the tears fall, elated and heartbroken at the same time.

“But I want to be the one,” he said cryptically, /settng his whiskey down.

“One what?” you asked as he came closer, causing your breath to hitch.

“The one to kiss you before he takes you away from me,” he breathed, closing the gap between the two of you. Almost reflexively, the glass you had dropped to the floor and overcome with so many emotions it made you light headed, you kissed him back, holding onto him for support. One hand on the back of your neck and the other holding you tight, your tongues met and danced with each other until both of you were out of breath.

Both of you let out heavy breaths as you pulled apart but he didn’t let you go. He placed a gentle kiss to your forehead, your nose, your jaw and your neck, making your eyes flutter closed. He then released you and took a step back. His words and actions had changed everything.

You couldn’t get married now knowing what you knew. You weren’t sure how to put it into words but something told you that Jethro knew that as well.

“Thank you,” you finally answered. You were sure your makeup was ruined from all the crying and stress but it didn’t matter any more. You pulled him in for a hug, arms wrapping around his neck and just breathing him in. Without hesitation, his arms held you close again. Yeah, you could get use to this.

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

After the War

The night before Tom is sent back to his ship, he spends one last night with his best girl and makes plans for what they'll do when the war is over.

Pairing: Tom Bennett x Reader (2nd person)

Warnings: kissing, fingering, Tom being a lil nasty but it's ok he's hot

This work is a part of my 12 Days of Smuff event! Read the rest here.

My Masterlist

After the War

Prompt: Dreams & Dirty Talk

Tom’s navy uniform had long been discarded on the floor beside the bed; no doubt it would be hopelessly wrinkled when he boarded his train the next day. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care about that at all.

Not when Tom was getting on a train tomorrow, one that would take him to war.

You hated him for getting arrested. You hated him for agreeing to join up to get out of jail. You hated him for going back on his promise to register as a conscientious objector. And you hated him most of all for having the gall to be excited about leaving.

“So, since I won’t need to use my wages on the ship, it’ll be sent back here to Dad. And Lois too, I guess.” Tom quirked his brows and took another puff of his cigarette – his fourth of the night so far – and idly played with your hair as your hair while you rested your head against his chest.

He’d been talking nonstop since he rolled off of you after your last round of lovemaking.

No, it wasn’t lovemaking. It was fucking. Frantic, desperate fucking in lieu of actually talking about what would happen tomorrow, or the next day, or even the next year.

“I told him he could use it if he needed it, but that I want to come home to at least a bit of a stash, you know?”

‘Come home.’

That is what broke you—those two little, uncertain words. There was every possibility that Tom wouldn’t come home, and this last night would be all you had.

You started crying, suddenly and fiercely, burying your face in the smattering of hair on his chest.

Tom instantly sat up, wrapping his arms around you and cradling you against him. “Hey, hey. None of that, love. Tonight’s a happy night, yeah?”

“It’s not!” you insisted through your tears. “It’s not happy at all, Tom!”

He tilted and shook his head in a way you knew meant he was about to argue with you, so you continued before he could. “You’re leaving tomorrow – to go to war! You aren’t going on a fucking holiday! You’ll be on a battleship, not a river cruise!”

“Love, I…”

“No,” you pled, burying yourself in his shoulder. “Don’t make promises we both know you won’t keep. Don’t give me that hope.”

Tom scoffed, “You want me to tell you I’m gonna die?”

You grabbed one of his nipples between your fingers and pinched. Hard.

“Fuckin’ hell, woman!” Tom shouted, gripping your wrist tightly and yanking your hand off his nipple. “I was joking!”

“Don’t joke then!” You were sure your face was red as you yelled at him.

He slapped a hand over your mouth and lowered his voice. “Your mum is gonna hear us if you don’t quiet down, love. I don’t want my last night here to be spent being chased down the street naked by your fuming mum.”

You moved to tear his hand away, but when you met his eyes, you saw that there was fear there. And sadness, longing, grief. He was just as terrified as you. More, even.

When he felt you relax, he removed his hand. “Now,” his voice had become gentle, if a little strained, “are you going to yell at me again? Or try to rip my nipple off?”

You shook your head.

“Good.” He pulled you into him again, and you let him. He held you with your back toward him, one of his large hands splayed on your stomach and the other stroking your hair. “Then… what do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know.” You leaned into his chest, resting your head against his shoulder. He did nothing to egg you on, only held you close as you thought. “Tell me about the future,” you finally said. “About our future.”

“Alright,” he took a deep breath before he began narrating. You may or may not have prayed to God to grant him the gift of prophecy.

“Well… tomorrow, I’m gonna climb down outta that window there,” he pointed to your bedroom window, “and I’m gonna run down the street and climb up into my own window. I’ll have breakfast with Lois and my dad. Then we’ll all go to the train station, and you’ll meet us there – no sailor can leave home without a goodbye kiss from his best girl.”

You blushed at that, then blushed further when he tweaked your nose.

“I’ll go to training. Obviously, they’ll recognize my amazing natural talents and promote me right off.” You made a snarky comment about his overwhelming humility that he quickly silenced by tickling you. “I think I’ll get a few days leave between training and shipping out, so I’ll come back here.”

The joking grin mostly faded from his face, his eyes focusing on your face as his voice lowered. “I’ll use my wages from training to buy a nice ring, or, as nice as I can afford. I’ll have you wear your best dress and take you to the Palais for a night of dancing. Then, I’ll take you to the register office and marry you.”

Your breath vanished from your lungs. “But, there’s a waiting period…”

“Nah,” he said all too quickly. He’d been thinking about this, you realized. Planning it. “They’re waving that for all the boys going to fight. And this way, you’ll get the marriage allowance. And the widow’s pension, if…”

Tears threatened to come to your eyes again, and Tom barreled on. “I expect a good amount of that allowance to go to buying yourself some lovely lingerie to entertain me whenever I get leave.”

“You’re disgusting,” you half-heartedly teased.

Tom began moving the hand he had on your stomach lower, drawing random circles and loops and other shapes you couldn’t identify. “Don’t pretend you don’t love it. Besides, I need something to motivate me to live, don’t I?”

Any protest you had to his dark humor died when his long fingers traveled lower, teasing you just enough to take your breath away. And to prove him right.

“Well, look what I found…” he whispered huskily in your ear. “A wanton young woman who loves it when her man is ‘disgusting?’ Lucky for you, I like my best gal a little loose.”

You moaned in both offense and pleasure as his thumb started rubbing soft circles on your pearl, and his middle finger began just barely dipping in and out of your entrance. Not enough. It wasn’t nearly enough.

“I’m going to write you letters every day when I’m at sea,” he promised. “Each day, I’ll give you new instructions. New little ways you can entertain me even when I’m half a world away.”

“Like what?” you managed to ask as his finger finally began to go deeper, but achingly slowly.

“Mmm… one day, I may ask you to do something as tame as leaving your panties at home. But when I’m really missing you, I’ll want you to be the biggest slut in Manchester. A faithful slut, mind you, but still.”

Something about his words, mixed with the way he began stroking that glorious rough patch inside you drove you absolutely wild. Seeking more speed, you began bucking your hips against his hand. But he only rested his other on your hips to keep you still.

“Maybe I’ll ask you to touch yourself in a particular way, and then tell me how much you liked it. Or maybe I’ll have you touch yourself somewhere new. Say, the Palais? Or your parents' kitchen table?”

You whimpered. This shouldn’t be as arousing as it was, you knew. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that these wicked things would be the only way you could get close to fucking him whenever he was away.

“I may even have you take some pictures to send in your letters. Didn’t you say your uncle offered you a job at his photography studio? Yeah, I think you need to take him up on that one.”

His musings seemed to fade as he moved his fingers faster, even slipping another into you. He no longer wanted just to tease you, but to satisfy you. “I’ll be desperate, love. Stuck in a tin can with a bunch of other blokes. And I know I can’t last with just the pin-ups. None of them come close to you.

“Will you do it for me? Will you buy the sluttiest lingerie you can find? Touch yourself for me? Whenever and wherever I want you to? Send my pictures like you’re no better than the whores who mail their photos for a couple pennies?”

You arched your back, feeling his words speed your climax along. “Yes, Tom. All of it. I’ll do anything for you.”

He leaned down and planted a sloppy kiss on your lips, swallowing your screams as he brought you to the edge, never stilling his fingers until you begged him to. “That’s my girl.”

You turned toward him, having felt his cock hard against your back. But he did not let you. He held you in place, not even griding into you.

“Not yet, greedy thing. I haven’t finished my story yet.” You fought him a little, but ended up lying back when he refused to relent. “Now, where was I?”

“I was being the most faithful slut in Manchester.”

“Oh yes, I love that part. But after that, once we defeat the Jerries and good triumphs, I’ll come home to you. We’ll both have saved enough to buy our own place, or at least rent a decent flat. And…”

Tom probably talked for hours until he fell asleep. You wondered if he ever took care of his erection. But you weren’t sure.

Not long after he started telling the rest of the story, you’d fallen asleep. Some part of you must have kept listening, though. Your dreams were full of visions of the life you and Tom would have.

A tearful reunion when he came home for good. Kissing at the train station so long that everyone else would leave and only you two would remain.

Him carrying you into your new home. Somehow, he’d managed to snag a gorgeous flat in the heart of the city, with grand windows that gave you a magnificent view of the sunset.

He’d find some job he loved (even in your dreams, you couldn’t imagine what job that would be) and make enough that you’d never have to worry about money again. Maybe you could even help your parents out.

Eventually, you’d have children. And since it was a dream, childbirth was a breeze, and the kids were perfectly behaved.

It was a perfect life.

A perfect dream.

But when you woke, you watched Tom climb out your window, and reality came crashing back down.

[slvttyharlow]

Missing Anniversary.

Featuring. Jack Harlow x Fem! Wife! Reader.

Anonymous Request. Can you write a jack fic where he misses an important date like anniversary or something so a little angsty that turns into fluff.

Summary. Jack misses an anniversary and you’re upset.

General Tags. Angst and Fluff.

Content Warnings. Crying that's it.

Word Count. 809.

Notes. Anon, I hope I did your request justice, I'm so nervous, this is my first fic that's out on this acc and I really wish I did good, please go easy on me. If you'd like to be tagged when future works are out, you can fill out that taglist form.

Extra. Requests are open, please read my rules beforehand! / Comments, likes, and reblogs are highly appreciated but not pressured.

Starred Links. Navigation + Masterlist + Prompts + Taglist

When Jack came home, you were sitting on the couch strolling through your Instagram not even throwing a glance his way. He walks in and smiles when he sees you. “Hey babe, it was a good day at the studio, got a lot done but I missed you though.” He said with a huge smile on his face as he walked up to you going to kiss your lips but you moved your head slightly so that his lips met your cheek. 

“What was that?” He questioned but you just ignored him and kept scrolling through your phone. You were pissed and you had every right to be, today was your wedding anniversary and you thought to make it special by cooking his favorite food and setting up his favorite lingerie that he could take off of you later but he forgot. You tried giving him the benefit of the doubt like maybe his phone stopped working but he texted you earlier asking you to send a picture of the cologne he regularly used.

You knew he would be busy with his album, and you were fine with that, you supported him every step of the way but you never expected him to forget an important day like this, you treasured this day so much, the day you married your high school sweetheart so him forgetting made you feel hurt, you’d have been happy if he just sent a text, it was the thought that count.

“So you not gon tell me why you’re acting weird?” Jack was getting quite annoyed at being ignored especially when he came home early to be with you since he missed you throughout the day, you were the only thing on his mind when he was at the studio so for you to be acting this way towards him was crazy. You simply rolled your eyes and got up and walked past him, bumping his shoulder as you walked to the dining table and picked up the plates of food that were now cold, and made your way to the kitchen to wrap them with saran wrap. 

Jack wondered what he could’ve done to make you this mad at him but he came up empty. What he did know was he wasn’t going to let you go to bed angry. “Babe, please tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it,” he spoke softly as he walked into the kitchen, watching you put the food in the fridge. You ignored him again and were about to make your way to the bedroom but Jack immediately got in front of you, stopping you from taking another step. “Nuh-uh, you know we don’t do silent treatment and no going to sleep angry at each other,” he says as he looks down at you. 

“Jackman move out of my way,” you said as you got annoyed with him being in your presence, not wanting to look into his eyes knowing if you do, you would give in like you always did. Jack was surprised by the use of his first name since you always called him ‘babe’ or ‘baby’. “Not until you tell me what's going on.” 

“Do you know what today is? Why don’t you check the date!” You yelled as you stepped back putting some distance between you and him. You watched him pull out his phone with a quizzical look on his face and when he sees the date, you turn your back towards him not wanting to make eye contact since you might start crying at any moment. “Baby… I’m so sorry, I thought it was tomorrow, I swear I have everything planned,” you stayed silent and he came closer, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him and that’s all it took for the tears to roll down your cheeks and he started rocking you back and forth.

“You know I love you right?” He says soothingly as he starts tracing shapes on your stomach, you nod your head silently and lean more into his touch. “I promise you, I thought the 25th was tomorrow and had everything ready for us to celebrate,” 

“It wouldn’t hurt you to start checking your calendar on your phone,” your response makes him chuckle. “Yes, I’ll be more up to date from now on, can we start over our anniversary for tomorrow, trust me you gon love what I have planned.” 

You turn around in his arms and look into his blue eyes. “Yes we can, I’m sorry I was mean to you,” he shakes his head. “Don’t apologize, I deserved it, I love you,” he rubs your arm a bit. “I love you too, babe,” he connects his lips with yours, holding you close to him not letting you go, come tomorrow he will make it all up to you.

© harlowsthetic 2023. | All Rights Reserved. Do not repost on other platforms, copy, steal, or translate any of my works!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: hump day, wooooo.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Strange how you never found comfort at home. Well, it never felt like one for you. You were always just a hanger-on. A burden. 

As you enter your grandma's house, you can't help but exhale the tension you've been holding in. She's in her chair, reading, not a word at your arrival. You go into the kitchen, set on eating the frozen meal you lost your appetite for the other night. 

You peel back the corner on the tray and shove it in the microwave. As you shut the door, you nearly wince at the unexpected figure in the doorway. You don't know if you're really surprised or if Andy has you jumpy. Both. 

"Want some coffee?" You offer your grandmother, hoping to appease her. "Tea?" 

She grumbles and waves you off, shuffling across the tile in her slippers. She crosses her arms and her lip sticks out, "nice of that man to come all the way down here like that." 

You turn your attention back to the countdown and shrug, "yeah." 

"He didn't need to just for all that. For you, did he?" She prompts. Her interest both irks and worries you. She never cared about anything. "And after losing his family." 

"Right, yeah, it's tough," you twiddle your fingers at your side. 

"Don't sound so heartbroken," she scoffs, "Christ, wasn't that boy you're friend?" 

You face her as the microwave beeps, "grandma..." you can't tell her. If she even bothered to listen, she wouldn't believe you. She doesn't even know Andy and she's already taking his side. Typical. "Yeah, I'm sad. Guess I'm a bit in shock." 

You turn back and take the too hot tray out, holding back a hiss at the singe in your fingertips. You spin and cross the kitchen to grab a fork. Your grandma huffs and putters after you.  

"He sent them flowers," she says. 

You stir the noodles and cheese, "he did." 

"Fancy. Expensive." 

You don't really get why she's still harping on. She didn't put so much mind to your prom or graduation or even when you got your job. Yet you can't be surprised where she's strayed; she's always been on you about money.  

"Seems to me he's a bit lost," she says, "you're..." she weighs her words before she speaks, something she rarely does, "maybe he's tryna find some direction. He might... might wanna take care of ya." 

"Huh?" You make a face and glance at her from the corner of you eye. 

"Like, I dunno, I watch those talk shows, grief is something nasty. I would know," she goes on. You can't remember the last time you heard her talk so much. "He only got-- had the one kid. You're about the same age... maybe he's tryna, I dunno, replace what he lost." 

You nearly laugh in her face. Really? This is what she cares about? You stare at her and furrow your nose. You could tell her. You could try. She's listening. For once.  

"I don't think... it's not... I'm not his responsibility and I don't wanna be." 

"You're barely your own responsibility," she sneers, "can't see a good thing in front of you." 

"Grandma--" 

"Well? Pretty sure there's more where those flowers came from," he tuts, "you got a few hard lessons to learn, girlie. 

You look down at the macaroni. You're not hungry anymore. You grab the tray and walk away. 

"Yeah, well, maybe you shoulda tried to teach me some, huh?" You toss over your shoulder and stomp out of the kitchen. 

You go into your room and kick your door shut. How is he doing this? How is everyone, even a woman who hasn't lived in reality for twenty years, on his side? 

You put the tray and fork down and go to the other side of the bed. You sit facing the window and drop your head into your hands. The only person you have is too far away. Besides, you don't want to drag her into this. Not any more than you already have. 

🎮

For once, you’re anxious to get to work. You welcome the distraction from everything else; debt, grandma, and the biggest problem of all, the one you won’t even name. You stroll up to the ice cream booth as Luis stands outside the window, chatting to Jessie as she stands at her vigil inside. You frown. You don’t see the manager often. Only when he hired you. 

“Ah, there she is,” Luis spots you and waves you over, “right on time.” 

As he checks his watch you pull out your phone. You’re early, like always. His presence is more than a coincidence. You have this ripply feeling in your stomach. You black your phone and cross your arms, hiding it under your elbow. 

“Hi, how’s everything going?” You ask as you approach the kiosk. 

“Everything’s great,” Luis smirks, “sunshine’s out, customers too.” 

You glance around. The picnic tables are mostly full. It is the perfect weather for a scoop. 

“Yeah, gonna be a busy shift,” you pander with a smile. 

“Hey,” Luis wags his finger as if remembering something, “before you start, let’s have a chat.” 

“Oh, alright,” you agree. 

He waves you away from the window as more customers approach. You follow him to one of the tables. You wait for him to sit before you do the same. He looks around from behind his black lenses and tilts to reach into his back pocket. He slides out his phone and brings it forward to cradle in both hands. 

“So uh, how are you liking it? The work?” He asks. 

You’re uneasy. You stare at his cell then look him in the face. 

“It’s good. Steady,” you answer as you keep your own phone in your lap. 

“Mhmm,” he hums and once more glances around, “look, this is never easy but I got a complaint--” 

You blink slowly. You’re not surprised. You figured it would happen. Still, you thought maybe Andy might be above that. Or anything at all. 

“Obviously, I take these things seriously. This business is all about customer service, especially with the Dairy Queen down the block,” he explains, “but I do try to give the benefit of the doubt. I checked the cameras.” He pauses for effect as you shrink down, “you closed the window.” 

You sigh and heave out a breath, “I did.” 

“You know we don’t do that,” he reprimands. 

“Sir, I know but... the customer... he wasn’t a customer. He’s... bothering me.” 

He pokes his tongue into his cheek and scratches his neck, “oh? Didn’t look like that type. When I spoke to him, he didn’t even seem upset. He just asked me to check in, really, but it’s not his shop. He don’t gotta worry about the bottom line. I do.” 

“It won’t happen again,” you wisp out. 

“I know it won’t,” he says. 

You sit, waiting for him to continue. He just stares at you. You shake your head. No. 

“Sorry, I gotta let you go.” 

“What? It’s my first complaint--” 

“This is an ice cream shop, how many of those do you think we get? Not very hard to keep the people happy so if you’re getting unhappy customers, well, that’s all I need to know.” 

“Please, Luis, I need this job--” 

“Shouldn’t have closed the window. I’m sorry. That’s the one rule.’ 

“God, I--” you huff and snarl, “whatever. Fine.” You stand and untie your apron, “get your bottom line.” 

You toss the apron on the table and swipe up your bag. You turn without waiting for another empty apology. Fuck. It’s shitty but hey, there’s always the DQ and now you have experience, right? 

🎮

You fill out an application for the Dairy Queen and a few other places. Your job hunt has been chronic as it is. It’s only that your search for a second gig, is now back to square one. You have only your last check coming to you before you’re digging into your meagre savings; the money meant for tuition. 

Your grandma is back to living in her novels. Good. You didn’t realise until before how much you preferred it. 

As you close yourself in your room, your phone vibrates. You look down at the message. It’s him. He’s been messaging, still thinking he might talk you into it. He is a lawyer but this isn’t his court. This is your life. 

How pathetic. A grown man meddling in the affairs of a nineteen-year-old. If you could let go of the catfishing, everything else has assured you of his character. You flop onto your bed and swipe away his texts. 

You wallow there for a while. In self-pity, in futility, in listlessness. You don’t know what to do. Everything is at a standstill. You have no job, you don’t know if you can pay for next semester, let alone the year, and you’re stuck in this deadbeat town. 

You put on a video to try to drown out the incessant anxiety. Today, you’re just going to let yourself sink. You can deal with everything tomorrow. You close your eyes and yawn, drifting into a haze that makes your head fuzzy. 

You’re roused by another vibe of your phone. You ignore it. He’s not going to get an answer. He can keep skirting around your blocks but you’re not wasting your energy. You’ve told him enough times to leave you alone. He has to get bored eventually. 

You roll over and bury your head in the pillow. You hear your grandma clunking around in the kitchen. You hate this place. You hate your life. The more you think about it, you can’t deny how horrible it really is, especially in the shadow of your dwindling future. 

What did you do to deserve this? You’re a good person. At least, you’ve always tried to be. It feels like a lot of karma for that Twizzler you stole when you were eight. 

Your grandmother keeps up the racket and your phone keeps on buzzing. You flip over and sit up. You snatch up the phone and stop yourself from flicking your thumb sideways. It isn’t him. It’s Kara. You never did call her back. 

You answer and put her on speaker, “hey, sup?”  

“Hey,” her voice is shaky, “uh, I don’t know.” 

“What?” You sit up straighter, “is everything--” your voice trails off as you listen to the commotion on her end; chatter you can’t make out, movement obscured through the speaker, “what do you mean you don’t know?” 

“The cops are here,” she murmurs, “I don’t know. They just showed up. Said they got a call from the landlord or something. Cause it’s the property owner, they can just come in or whatever. I don’t know, I don’t know...” Her voice quivers with panic, “me and Calvin were just hanging out...” 

“That’s... why would they--” 

“Shoot, I think...” she lowers her voice, “they must’ve found his stash. Shit, shit.” 

“Kara?” Your heart races as you try to keep track of what’s going. 

“Miss, can you please hang up the call? We need to question you,” a deep voice interjects. 

“One second, I’m just on the phone with--” 

“Miss, hang up or you’ll be charged with obstruction.” 

The line cuts and you gape at your phone. What the hell? You try to dial back, the call rolls through but doesn’t pick up. You try again and again. You get out of bed and pace, texting Kara helplessly. Shit, shit! How is this happening? Over what? A tiny dime bag? Everyone smokes, not that you’re the biggest fan. Too smelly for you. 

You put your hand to your forehead. What do you do? You can probably get a bus ticket. Even if you get to her, the bond is going to be way more than you can afford. You doubt you’ll even be able to scrape it together.  

Do you call her parents? No, they’d kill her, then she’d kill you. 

You shake as your legs turn to jello. You sit back down and close your eyes. Holy crap, this can’t be real.  

Your phone vibrates. It doesn’t stop. You look down at the incoming call. Unknown Caller. You’re not stupid. You know it’s him and his timing assures you he had something to do with this. This isn’t a coincidence. Those don’t exist. If there was any sort of luck in this world, you would have found some by now. 

“What?” You put the phone to your ear and snarl. 

“I can help your friend,” he says. 

You’re silent. You want to scream at him. You want to swear at him. You want to call him every nasty word you can. But this isn’t about you, not just you. You brought Kara into this mess, even if you never meant to. You won’t let her pay for your stupidity. 

“Meet me at Oxford and Maris. There’s a restaurant--” 

“Fine,” you snip and hang up. 

You lower your phone and shudder. He won. Given his career, he must be used to that. 

[bimoonphases]

@wolfstarmicrofic May 4 - prompt 4: Marriage of Convenience [word count 759]

“Mais merde à la fin!” Sirius cursed, failing for the third time to properly knot his tie.

“Here, let me help you.”

James got up from the bed and reached for Sirius, his fingers deftly working on the tie, his own already perfect and a white rose in his lapel.

“There you go,” James forced a smile before he sighed. “I really hate this. I’m supposed to help you fix your tie the day of your wedding to the love of your life, not as you get ready to marry a complete stranger.”

“Yeah, well, blame your fellow countrymen for taking this place out of the EU,” Sirius grumbled. “It’s either this or me having to move back to France and I haven’t lived there since I was three.”

Sirius gritted his teeth. After the exit polls things had gone barreling towards the worst for him quite quickly, ending him up in the position he was in that very day, with only those two options, the second of which he refused to consider. His whole life was in London, he wasn’t about to move. So he had to marry someone with a citizenship as soon as possible before the new laws ended up with him being deported. Thankfully, he hadn’t been alone in that. The London queer community had so many people in his same situation that Lily and her girlfriend Pandora had immediately sprung into action, changing the goal of their charity into something that these days resembled a matchmaking scheme. At first they had had the time to set up meetings between people, but as time ran out and laws were made and protests ignored it had all turned into a text with a picture, a name and date, time and location of the wedding. Since he knew her well, Sirius had been privileged enough to get a call from Lily after she had sent him a picture of a guy in a brown velvet jacket, a book in his hands.

“He’s a good friend of mine, Sirius, and he’s truly a wonderful person. He’s very active in the community and teaches at UCL, I’m sure you two will get along.”

He had thanked her but shrugged it all off. It wasn’t as if they needed to like each other to sign a piece of paper. This Remus Lupin had volunteered to help out, they would both walk into the marriage office knowing it was just for convenience.

“It should’ve been me,” James sighed as he slipped another white rose in Sirius’s lapel. “If you have to marry someone to stay in the country it’d be better if it was your best friend.”

“You’re already doing that for Regulus, James.”

“That’s different, Regulus is my boyfriend.”

“Exactly, and he would murder me if I tried to marry you before he could,” Sirius laughed, then he patted James’s arm. “Let’s go, it would be rude to keep my future husband waiting.”

The ride to the registry office was silent, and when they emerged on the steps of the building Sirius immediately scanned the crowd, looking for the man in the picture.

“That must be him,” James said behind him. “By the main door, talking with Lily.”

Sirius looked up and blinked a couple of times. Remus Lupin was very tall, dressed in a navy blue suit, a white rose in his lapel too and a cigarette in hand.

“God Prongs, he’s hot,” he whispered.

“He really is,” James chuckled. “Come on, let’s go to them.”

They walked up the steps and Sirius had the time to detail Remus’s soft-looking hair, his long fingers and the way his white shirt hugged his torso. He almost didn’t greet Lily when they stopped in front of them.

“Your picture really didn’t do you justice,” Remus smiled at him. “And it was one of the hottest pictures I’ve ever seen all the same.”

Sirius felt himself blush as he shook his hand.

“So you’re doing this only because you find me handsome?” he chose to say.

“Anything to send a big fuck you to this government,” Remus shrugged.

“A real Englishman in shining armour then.”

“Fuck that, I’m Welsh.”

Remus put his cigarette in the nearest ashtray and extended his hand.

“Shall we go pledge our love until death do us part then?”

As Sirius walked into the registry, his fingers intertwined with a stranger’s and his heart pounding he decided he would wait until they had both said yes and then he would ask his husband out on a first date.