#been up too long and have run out of tags

[tame-the-lion-writes]

reader x dog shifter 141 [pt.2]

(If you haven't seen it yet, here's part one.)

It’s been a couple weeks, and you’re starting to catch on to just how smart your dogs are.

Not that you know what they actually are—but they’ve got this weirdly human intelligence behind their eyes, and weirdly human personalities. The Great Dane likes to sit on the recliner in your living room, regal and commanding, often watching your front yard whenever the gardener would come over. The gardener’s son replaced him once for a job, leaving grass cuttings in the driveway, and he was all huffy about it. It amused you at first, but then you realized his judgement wasn’t reserved for strangers. He was even more huffy the time you accidentally burned a steak. (Jeez, since when was he a dad?) Not to mention the empty whiskey glasses he likes to keep around, but that's not right—dogs can't have alcohol, can they?

The German Shepherd, on the other hand, is surprisingly clingy—but not in a bump-into-your-leg or overtly cuddly kind of way. Instead, he follows you while never begging for attention, attentive and patient as though a soldier awaiting orders. You’ve been jump-scared one too many times by his presence, when you think you’re alone and he appears out of thing air. A massive giant of a dog, with paws as silent as a shadow. And he’s stubborn—doesn’t initiate contact, but you swear you’ve caught a subtle bashful glance. Especially when you scratch behind his ears and along the scar of his cheek and chin.

But what the Shepherd lacks in open affection, the Labrador makes up tenfold. He doesn't pester about it, though, simply hopping up to your side on the couch to curl up or placing his muzzle on top of your knees. Still, while probably the most obedient out of the four, you’ve seen him get roped into food heists with the Foxhound, or stalking as closely and silently as the Shepherd. Very much the little brother who tags along with whatever. But you can't stay mad at him for long, either—not when he knows how to apologize—bringing you a freshly chomped-off flower from the backyard whenever you get mad. Then he'll sit at your heels with a faint tail wag, whining 'til you're settled and appeased.

The Foxhound is perhaps the most talkative, in both a noisy and conversational way. His joy is unrelenting around you, and he greats you like you’d expect any other dog. Still, he’s awfully communicative. It’s how you’ve learned their names—with you wandering aloud what to call them, and him making faces at every suggestion. He eventually settled for playing retriever: playing charades by bringing you back bottles and bars of soap. For the Great Dane, he grabbed an old receipt from the trash. For the Shepherd, he threw on a sheet. He seemed awfully confused on what to do for the Labrador, though, and just kept whining as if in apology.

“So Soap, Price, Ghost, and…,” you trail off, glancing at the Labrador with a slight pout. “Oh, I’m sorry, boy. I really don’t know what to call you. And Soap here seems like he’s run out of braincells.”

Ghost snorts in amusement, which is returned by Soap’s unfettered glare.

The next morning, though, there really is no explanation as to how Soap learned the alphabet, how to write, or to arrange your bedsheets in the following name: GAZ.

_

Bonus Thoughts:

"Aha... what the fuck."

Price has face-palmed (face-pawed?) and Ghost just walks over and calmly almost slapstick-esque baps Soap on the head. Meanwhile, Gaz looks dejected, pressing his forehead to the front door, like he's expecting you to kick them out in the next five seconds.

Not that you would, of course—but we can queue the mild horror and existential questioning of what the hell these dogs actually are. You call your friend to rant about your theory—that they could be escapees from a top secret government laboratory, or spies from another country. She just says to enter them into a dog show, or make ‘em celebrities on social media.

[hawkinsbnbg]

standin' at that altar, or we will run away

prompt: sneaking around | @steddiesmuttyseptember

tags: exes to lovers, bathroom sex, daddy kink, barebacking, creampie, top Eddie, possessive Eddie, bottom Steve, babygirl Steve, steddie in love.

word count: 1k7 | rated: E | ao3

Steve sipped his wine and sighed inwardly. It was too early to ingest the alcohol, but knowing his parents would criticize him no matter what, he didn't have any reason to behave himself.

If they thought being late was a power move, then he should be allowed to drink all of their expensive wine.

At least, he snorted humorlessly, waiting for them was better than another blind date.

Steve was a little tipsy when he finally saw him.

Black suit jacket, white open-collared, ironed trousers, and shiny shoes. His long curls were pulled up in a ponytail, tattoos visible on the back of his hands and fingers—adorned with silver chunky rings.

Since the restaurant wasn't exactly packed, it was criminally easy to pick out a familiar face among the sea of dining patrons.

Steve knew he was staring, but Eddie Munson wouldn't be a thorn in his side if the man stopped looking good even for a second.

Especially when he dressed up, a once-in-a-blue-moon thing that would make Steve weak in the knees.

He watched Eddie empty a glass of water and set it down, then stand up from the table and walk away.

Steve loosened his tie and sat there for a moment longer, glancing at his watch to check the time before also getting up and leaving his table.

———

Steve couldn't believe he would follow his ex of all people into a restaurant's bathroom. Which, sadly, wasn't news at all.

Because if there was nothing to stop him, he would follow Eddie to the end of Earth and even beyond death.

Perhaps, Steve supposed, he was a bigger freak than he gave himself credit for.

"Ed– Oof!"

He was pulled into a sturdy chest as soon as he opened the door.

The sight of Eddie—tall and broad shouldered—with his shirt's sleeves rolled up to the elbows, revealing more of the intricate inks, would forever be ingrained in Steve's brain.

A ringed hand came up to hold his chin aloft, dark brown eyes regarded him with an unreadable look before plump lips descended on his own, seizing him in a fervent kiss.

As his pants were stripped and long slicked fingers pressed into him, Steve couldn't remember why he didn't want to trail after Eddie in the first place.

In the mirror, he looked debauched with his disheveled appearance; tousled hair, unbuttoned shirt, red swollen lips, and hickey-covered neck.

All the while, Eddie's gaze felt like a physical touch on him—scorching, heavy, and ravenous.

Steve had missed it; the feeling of being desired and adored in the same touch and in all one breath. It was intoxicating, got him light-headed more than any alcohol or drug.

"More," he pushed his hips back, one hand hooking behind Eddie's neck while the other splaying on the bathroom counter. He clenched around the fingers working inside him, hoping they would be replaced by something bigger soon.

"Such a greedy little thing, hm?" Eddie mouthed the column of his throat and stroked his prostate relentlessly, drawing punch-drunk moans from him. "My fingers not enough for you, princess?"

Steve shook his head frantically. He wanted Eddie; whole and scalding and everything. He wanted and wanted until his body was torn into pieces, reaching its limit and incapable of containing his greed, his hunger—

His love for this beautiful man.

And oh, he had said it again, didn't he?

I love you, I love you, I love you.

Unrestrained. Unashamed. Unrepentant.

Eddie made a wounded noise like it was punched right out of him.

And while Steve loved like the sun, burning and consuming; Eddie loved like the moon, tender and forgiving.

Embracing him in warmth and affection even when he was the one at fault. Even when he had been a coward and run away.

"Missed you, Daddy," he trembled in the safety of those strong arms, barely able to conceal the desperation in his voice. "Need it so bad– Please–"

"Anything, baby," Eddie clutched his waist in a bruising grip, sounding hoarse and shaky, as he pushed slowly into him, stretching him open, tearing him asunder. "Anything."

Steve dropped his mouth in a silent moan, squeezing his eyes shut when Eddie set up a brutal pace right off the bat.

Neither of them had much time to savor this sacred moment. A reunion after two months apart. A drop of morning dew sliding off a green leave.

And he let Eddie use his body, slamming into him with an urgent need—as if his inside was the hearth of life, as if Eddie needed to be balls deep in him like air—chasing the blazing flame that they were both after.

"Am I that girl you dream of, baby?" Eddie grabbed his jaw to make him meet those crazed eyes in the mirror, hot lips pressing against his artery—thumping like a hummingbird. "Does she pamper you the way I did? Does she make love to you and fuck you like this? Does she tie you up? Eat you out until you cry and beg for her cock?"

"There's no one–" Steve was interrupted by the insistent knocks on the door. And suddenly remembered that they were very underdressed in a public setting.

Not that it had ever stopped Eddie from bending him over the nearest surface and going to town.

"Fuck off!" Eddie shouted at the door with a scowl.

"Yeah, fuck off," Steve giggled.

His parents would definitely have a coronary if they found out their straight son was given the pounding of his life in a bathroom. And right in a restaurant under the Harrington's name, nonetheless.

"Wanna share with the class what's so funny, darlin'?" Eddie rolled his hips and Steve's laughter suddenly cut into a strangled moan.

The constant pressure on his prostate wasn't a joke, making Steve drool and lose his mind.

"Love you, Daddy," he babbled incoherently, not caring that it didn't make any sense. "Love you so much. Love your cock so much."

"Jesus Christ, baby."

His eyes rolled back as Eddie grounded into his prostate and bumped his weeping dick quickly, setting his nerves alight and sending him over the edge.

Steve convulsed as he got overwhelmed by the toes-curling pleasure, muscles flexing and milking the thick length inside him like his life depended on it.

"That's– Fuck–" Eddie groaned and pressed his forehead on Steve's shoulder, blunt nails digging into the trim waist and leaving their crescent indents behind.

Steve wished they would take forever to fade.

After a few stuttered thrusts, Eddie buried deep and spilled inside him, filling him up to the brim.

"Don't pull out," Steve whimpered, clamping down even as he knew full well it was impossible.

"Me and you both, sweetheart," Eddie pressed a wistful kiss on his temple, slipping out easily from his sloppy hole.

After using the toilet paper to wipe down his backside and dick, Eddie pulled his briefs and pants back on, deft hands snaking around his torso to do his belt and zipper for him.

When Eddie turned him around to button his shirt and tucked it in as well, Steve's softened dick gave a valiant twitch at the feeling of Eddie's cum dripping from his hole.

His underwear would be a mess by the time he was home, but if he played his cards right, Eddie would clean it for him.

"Hey, Ed–"

"Steve, I–"

They paused and shared a shy smile.

"You first," Steve said, cheeks tinged pink as Eddie's hands came to rest on his waist, boxing him in against the counter.

"I know none of this is your fault. So whatever you need to do to fulfill your duty, I forgive you," Eddie gave him a tender smile, stealing his breath away. "And I'll wait for you for however long it takes. Because I know it hurts you as much as I, if not worse, to listen to your parents. I don't agree with it, but I understand that you have your reason to do so."

Steve felt guilt run through him, his eyes burned and his lips quivered as he rested his forehead on Eddie's shoulder, wanting to hide his tears because what right did he have to cry now?

"Let me be your silent support, baby," Eddie's fingers combed through his hair gently. "Let me take care of you even from the shadows."

"No!" He lifted his head to meet those kind brown eyes. "You don't deserve that– I can't– I won't keep you a secret, Eddie."

"I love you, and there's no other way for us–"

"There is," Steve raised his hand to wipe the tears in his eyes, smiling wobbly at his boyfriend. "I'm here today to break the big news to my parents. If you're willing to take me in when they disown me and deny my inheritance right–"

Someone banged on the door loudly from the outside, but Steve didn't care about it. Wealth, fame, reputation; they all paled in comparison to the man he loved.

"–then I'll go with you."

Eddie gave him a searching look, as if what he just said was too good to be true. Which Steve couldn't fault him after everything he had put him through. But it hurt still, to be doubted by his love because he had proved himself untrustworthy with his foolishness.

"Are you sure, sweetheart?" Eddie asked softly, caressing Steve's cheekbone with the back of his hand. "I'm not your parents. I'm just a small-time musician. A life with me won't be the same as anything you grew up with. I don't want you to regret your decision, baby."

"And you called me a worrier," Steve teased gently, before grabbing Eddie's wrist to kiss his ring finger—tattooed with a princess crown. "A life with you sounds good enough to me."

"Yeah?" Eddie smiled at him, fond and precious.

"Yeah," Steve smiled back, feeling his body tingle with light. So bright that he could rival the sun.

At the sound of the door being unlocked, Steve winked at Eddie.

"Let's bring me out of the closet. Show my parents that I'm as straight as a rubber band."

"Stephen Joseph Harrington," Eddie grinned widely and gazed at him in awe. "I'm gonna marry you one day."

Steve tipped forward and kissed Eddie soundly when those loving arms caught him.

Yeah, one day soon.

[hardlyinteresting]

To Have and To Hold

Jake Seresin x Reader

Jake comes home

Warnings: The reader is referred to as she/her, with no physical description, (please let me know if you'd like me to tag anything please), I grew up in an Army household so some of my Navy knowledge may be slightly off base (no pun intended) Word count: 1.8K

The floorboards creak with the weight of his footsteps still. there's a strange comfort in the sounds of this old house settling; the hum of the refrigerator downstairs, the quiet slide of his socks across wood floors. If he listens carefully, he can hear the whistle of the wind blowing past the window he meant to reseal all those months ago. The reminder of another missed task weighs heavy in his heart; a failure to provide a safe, warm home. It's the little things that matter most, his mama's voice reminds him, but it's the little things he so often misses-- always overlooked with the prayer that he won't be made a liar when he says he'll do it later. 

Time plays him for a fool. At 35 he rushes to make sure he meets the milestones he set out for himself, steadfast and resilient in his resolve to do more-- to be more. He breaks records, and sets precedents. But, he struggles to relax. Breathing doesn't come easy to him when it's not through his aviator's mask. In for seven, out for five. He counts the seconds of his inhales and exhales grounding himself in the moment. 

He does his best to hold tight to the moments he has here, But still, it never seems to be enough. like sand through an hourglass it all seems to slip away from him; these new found days of domestic bliss escape through his fingers like the memories of his childhood back in Texas. He wonders if one day he might be afforded the chance to pick up all the pieces and fit them together in some semblance of a “normal” life. He worries about his time away from home, what he's missed, and worse yet what he stands to miss if this life is taken from him too soon. 

Tonight marks the end of a six month separation, and tomorrow morning the count down to his next inevitable departure will begin. Always running out of time. It never used to bother him, it exhilarated him even, time blasting by in a blink of an eye. Back when he was younger, back when he had nothing to lose, and no idea what he stood to gain by sticking around. Now he worries about the quality of the lock on the front door, he thinks about restaining the floor downstairs and fixing up the kitchen. Domestic life snuck up on him. Slowly but surely his house became a home. Sun-baked bricks and weather-worn siding, with a shade of green paint he's been told matches his eyes. Four walls and roof that keep the outside world at bay. 

Down the hall in their bedroom, he Expects to find his wife sleeping, waiting in dreams for him to come home to her. It's the part of his job he struggles with the most now. It's so hard to leave this life they've built now that part of him is forever tethered to the earth. 

“I worry sometimes that I'm holding you back,” she confessed one night, “your job is hard enough as it is…I don't want to make it harder for you”. He hadn't been able to find the words to tell her how wrong she was.How could he describe the ways she had changed him? 

The need to return home to her never leaves him stunted in the sky, it fuels him. Long gone are the days where he fought just to be seen; she sees him. He's quick up there, tens of thousands of feet above the ground, he's calm and he's brilliant. His colleagues can call him cocky all they want, but his confidence is founded on his proven ability, and sometimes it's necessary to show off a little bit even if it's just so he can have another story to tell his sweetheart when he gets home. He imagines himself writing her name in the sky, carving her likeness in the clouds, a blazing trail racing home to her. 

So many of his earlier years had been spent playing the field too afraid to commit, too afraid to be loved. Adaptability, while necessary for his job, had never been his strong suit. A tiny part of him deep in the back of his mind always left the hair at the back of his neck on end when faced with change.

He had struggled in school, not academically, but socially and learned to over compensate to make up for his discomfort. The navy had given him the structure he had craved, a way to make his bed and fold his clothes, instructions that weren't open to interpretation. Living on his own allowed him to follow the same schedule and practices as he did on base.  In a split second, his life on the line, he never hesitates, but sustained change to his daily life left him nauseated. Welcoming another person into his life, and into his home had pushed him past the edges of where he believed his comfort laid, but forced him to confide in a support system outside of routine. 

Over the course of a few weeks her belongings joined his, sprinkled through out the house like a treasures to be found. Without a word she had taken care to intermix her books with the few of his own on the shelf, sorting them by alphabetical order just as he'd been doing for years. His anxiety slowly waned as his darling girl continued to prove she understood him better than anyone else ever had. 

“Do you prefer flying at dusk or dawn?” She had asked a few weeks after she moved in. curled up on their sofa, her head tucked under his chin, college football playing on the tv, she traced invisible shapes across his chest. “I don't have a preference, sweetheart. I just like flying,” his response felt half-baked, but it was the honest-to-good truth. 

“But if you had to pick?” she persisted. He weighed his answer before giving it to her, “if I had to pick, it would be dusk. There’s a moment, if you're up at the right time where you can see the night sky blending into the sunset…the sky is a gray-blue and you can see the sun at the horizon and the little pinpricks of stars”. 

“It sounds beautiful,” her smile was soft and genuine when she cupped his cheek to make sure he was looking at her. A habit of hers, not letting him hide away from the softer parts of himself, she seemed to so easily pull out. “It is”.

That weekend he’d spent 72 hours on base and returned home on Monday evening to the faintest smell of fresh paint. In the low evening light, it took him a moment to figure it out, standing puzzled in the middle of the living room, still dressed in his service khakis trying to identify the source of the smell. “You’re home!” she’d grinned coming down the stairs, her jeans and t-shirt splattered with gray. It’s then he noticed with his darling girl looking so proud of herself, the walls of the living room coated in a soft heather blue-grey, no longer just a coat of contractor-grade white reflecting the shade of twilight through the windows. Flicking on the light he watched her grow nervous as he felt his brow furrow processing the unexpected change. “Do you like it?” she asked. 

“It’s perfect, baby,” he promised pulling her close and kissing her thoroughly, “It’s beautiful”. 

A few months later he came home from work to find his shower gel and shampoo had both been replaced by a new set. Confused and with no other option, he chose to use them, deciding he liked the smell of eucalyptus and mint much more than he'd liked sport: for men anyway. 

“Baby, what happened to my shower gel?” 

“You were complaining about how dry your skin has been”.

“Hmm,” the consideration to change his routine to better himself hadn't occurred to him before she moved in. 

More recently he'd come home from a night out with the squadron, and woken up under a Forest green duvet, a jarring difference to the burgundy plaid cover he'd owned for years. Momentary panic filled his chest. Like a sharp, sudden plunge into cold water he'd gasped his eyes scanning the room to confirm his location. The familiar scent of her perfume, the sound of the ocean breeze, assured him he was in fact in their room. In the dark when he'd come home, colour of the duvet hadn't been noticeable and he found himself mildly embarrassed by how badly it startled him. Her hand reaching out for him, stretching across the sheets to touch him lured him back to a flat position letting her snuggle herself right up against his side. It was then he noticed that the weight of the blanket was the same as before, and it was just as plush as it had always been. Her on going respect for his comfort continued to leave him floored. A memory of her texting him to ask his favourite colour (green) filled his mind and left him drifting back to sleep with a smile on his face. 

Secretly, he'd begun to look forward to the tiny changes she brought into his life and into the house. The littlest reminders of their strengthening bond, their lives stitching together in more tangible and visible ways. The Navy had taught him to think literally, latteral thinking developed and honed to reach conclusions and make decisions quickly and effectively, but the metaphor of their lives blending like the presence of her belongings along side his own, and freshly painted walls is not lost on him. 

Tonight the house is quiet as it often is when he returns so late. He knows if she knew what day he was set to come back home she would've done her best to stay awake for him, dozing off on the sofa with the living room curtains wide open, hoping to catch the sight of his headlights pulling into the driveway. It's thoughts of her safe and waiting for him that have pulled him through this latest deployment, so he does his best not to disturb her sleep as he makes his way to her. Like a silent sirens call an unspeakable force drags him through the house. His boots are left by the door, laces tucked in. His bag is heavy in his hand, more than just its physical weight tugging at him, and he's glad to be able to put it down by the bedroom door. 

“Welcome home,” she whispers stirring from her sleep as he slips beneath the sheets, freshly showered. 

[measuredingold]

more cuddling with noah, but written properly 🥲 very short so i’m not considering this a fic so no word count and will probably tag this as a headcanon <3 anyways enjoy

cw/tw: fluff fluff fluff that’s literally it

A sigh from the top of the stairs breaks you out of your doom scrolling, eyes looking up from your phone to find Noah already staring at you.

His brows were furrowed and lips set in a deep frown, and the bags under his eyes made it clear he's been up a lot longer than you realized. Your eyes drop to your phone again to check the time, finding yourself frowning that it's well into the evening, and this is your first time seeing Noah since breakfast.

You look up. "Hi baby."

He sighs again before trudging down the steps, and you can practically see the heaviness of whatever is on his mind weighing on him. You shift on the couch to get in a much more comfortable position, back pressed into the cushions, and your arms opening once Noah gets closer to you. He gently falls onto you with a groan before wrapping his arms around your middle the best he can.

"Hi." He mumbles, face burying against the crook of your neck. One of your hands immediately finds a way to his hair, fingers carding through it while the other rests on his back.

"What's up?"

You feel his body slowly start to melt into yours, burrowing himself closer to you. You shiver at the feeling of his hands sliding up under your shirt, cool to the touch.

"Can't get this one part right." His voice is muffled against your neck and you can barely understand him, but don't bother moving him. You know this is the first time all day he's been semi-relaxed. "Pissing me off."

"Take a break, honey."

"I am." Noah groans. "Right now. Gimme like... 10 minutes, then I'll head back up."

You laugh softly, scratching at his scalp gently before smoothing down his hair. "You need a much longer break than that. How long have you been at it?"

"Uh..." It takes much longer for him to respond, brain probably fried from staring at his screen for so long. "Sometime this morning?"

"I figured that much. You were working before I even got up."

"Needed to get a head start on it." He yawns loudly then and tries to snuggle his body closer to yours, fingers digging into the skin at your sides.

"You can work on it tomorrow." You can't stop the frown forming on your lips, hand running up and down his back. "When was the last time you ate something?"

"...This morning."

"Noah."

"I knooow." It comes out as a whine and you can't help but laugh again, turning your head to press a kiss to the side of his head. "I forgot. Too caught up in the song. I didn't realize how much time had passed until like, 30 minutes ago."

"Want me to make you something? Or takeout?"

Another long moment of silence follows your question, and you think briefly that maybe he had already fallen asleep, the exhaustion catching up to him. Eventually you hear him make a noise and wiggle his body closer to yours, nose pressing against the base of your neck.

"...Takeout?"

"We can do that. Chinese?" Noah nods against you. "Want me to order it now?"

"In a second." He sighs out and you can't help but shiver at the feeling of his breath against your neck. "I just wanna lay here for a while longer."

You practically melt at his words and your hand drops from his hair to wrap your arms around him fully. You wish it was under better circumstances, but you loved whenever he was in one of these moods. Where he needed to be as close to you as possible, practically needing to live in your skin to feel somewhat sane. You squeeze him to your chest, feeling him try to wiggle his way closer to you.

"Whatever you want, my love."

He practically purrs at that and your face flushes when you feel the brush of his lips against your skin.

"Thank you." He murmurs in response before relaxing against your chest again, letting out a deep sigh you think he's been holding in.

You don't say anything, just squeeze him tighter to you as you both lay there in silence, basking in the comfort of each other.

[heizlut]

Promises To Keep

⟡ cw: none

⟡ tags: fem!reader, zayne, angst⇢comfort⇢smut, vague allusions to chapter 4 so slight spoiler warning?

⟡ 4.9k words (officially my longest fic!)

⟡ co-written with da bf @knihil everyone say thank you knihil!🖤

⟡ nsfw under the cut

⟡ m!list here

Zayne stood at his office window, looking out into the night. He was haunted by the memory of your grandma telling him to take care of you always; that it would do both of you some good. He lets out a sigh and runs his fingers through his dark hair, feeling frustrated at himself. Zayne has known you since you were young and he always held you close in his heart.

He wanted to run to you and hold you in his arms. To comfort you and see you smile again, but after what happened, you had told him you needed time to yourself and left without another word.

The nights seemed even longer to you as you wrestled with your grieving; your cries and sobs accompanying your solitary mourning. Your tears spilt from your eyes, falling on your blanket like the rain against your bedroom window. Everything feels so cold…

It had been too long since you'd last seen Zayne. It wasn’t always easy to find time to spend together with both your busy schedules, but even more so now that you refused to leave your apartment. You're the one who asked for space, the one who walked away from his open arms. You thought space was what you needed, but now you feel far more hurt than before. You grieve and you hurt, knowing you pushed away the one person who always wanted the best for you.

A knock on your door startles you from your sorrowful stupor. You sniffle and wipe your tears with the sleeve of your sweatshirt as you get up and make your way to the door. The knock sounds again, “I know you’re in there. Please… Just open the door.” Your chest tightens when you hear Zayne’s voice. His typically unemotional tone sounds like a holy choir to you, answering your subconscious pleas for his presence.

You crack open the door and look up at him, his hazel eyes meeting yours immediately. There’s a flash of uncharacteristic worry in Zayne’s eyes as he sees your tear-stained cheeks and he sighs, “Can you let me in?” You frown but nod, opening the door a little more so that he could step inside. You shut the door once he's inside and sit on your couch, holding your knees to your chest.

Zayne sits down beside you, leaving a little space between the two of you. You eyes are cast down to the floor as you sit silently and he looks at you, "Have you been taking care of yourself?" The way you pull your knees closer to your chest is all the answer he needs. Zayne lets out a deep breath, "Have you at least eaten today?" Your eyes finally meet his and you simply shake your head. He purses his lips and stands up, "I'll make you something then."

Your gaze trails after him and he heads to your kitchen. Zayne frowns when he opens your fridge to find only a few breakfast ingredients and nothing else. He pulls out the eggs and sausage and silently begins to prepare you a meal.

Sizzles and pops from the breakfast cooking in the pan are the only sounds in the apartment. Zayne finally breaks the silence, adjusting the ingredients in the pan with a spatula, "I know things have been hard lately, but you need to take care of-"

He's caught off guard by the feeling of your arms wrapped around his torso and your body pressed against his from behind, "What're you doing?" You hold him tighter and press your cheek against his back before speaking softly, voice weak and shaky from all the crying you had done earlier, "Thank you..." Zayne's body relaxes and he carefully plates your meal, struggling only slightly as you wouldn't let him go.

A ghost of a smile plays on his lips when he speaks again, "Come on. Let me go... You need to eat." You frown and bury your face into his back. Zayne breathes out a small laugh as he turns in your arms, facing you now. You frown up at him and he can't help but think how cute you look. He smooths down your hair, "I'll stay the night and let you hold me as long as you want, but only if you eat first."

You reluctantly let go and he smiles softly down at you, "There you go." Zayne holds the plate of breakfast food out to you, "Go on and eat now. Doctors orders." Your emotional demeanor cracks just a little at his half-playful words and you take the plate from him, "Fine, I'll eat." You sit yourself down at your table and take a small bite of the sausage and eggs. Your eyes close as you take in the flavor. It wasn't anything special, but it was the first meal you had eaten in a couple days.

Zayne sits across from you, watching as you finished off the rest of the food rather quickly, "It seems that this was definitely necessary..." His eyes soften, "I'm glad I stopped by." One corner of your lips curls into a hint of a smile and you nod, "...Me too." You move to take your dish to the sink but Zayne stops you, his voice low and serious, "Let me take care of you." Your heart flutters and you can only gawk at him as he takes the plate from you and puts it in the sink.

Turning back to face you, Zayne gives you an expectant look, "Well? What would you like now?" You play with the sleeves of your sweatshirt and you look up at him, speaking softly, "Can we just lay down and... talk?" He studies you as you speak, watching the way your sleeves partially cover your hands as your fingers pick at the hems, "Yes. I promised I would stay here if you ate and you did." He would've stayed whether you ate the food or not. All he cared about was making you happy again…

Zayne follows you to your bedroom, taking in the clothes that are scattered across your floor and your bed half-made, "Maybe I should try to stay for the weekend and help you clean up..." Your cheeks flush in embarrassment and you look away from him. "Don't be embarrassed", Zayne's deep voice brings your attention back to him, "I'm here to help. I always have been." You huff, "Yeah, as my doctor.." He gives you a disappointed look and takes you hand in his, "It's more than that. Don't act as though that's all we are to each other."

You frown as you eyes meet his hazel ones and you mutter, "Sorry..." He sits on your bed and pulls you to him, "Come here." You sit down next to him and look down at your hand in his. With his free hand, Zayne redirects your gaze back to him with his fingers against your jaw, "Look at me." He searches your eyes when you finally listen, "You mean more to me than I can properly express..." Zayne reaches forward and runs his fingers through your hair, "I made a promise to someone and I intend to keep it."

You absentmindedly lick your lips as your eyes trail down to his lips. Zayne takes notices and leans his face a little closer to yours and speaks in a hushed voice, "May I?" Your shining lips part as you nod, allowing him to move forward. His lips meet yours in the most gentle kiss, lingering on yours for a moment before he moves back; his thumb rubbing across your cheek, "It pains me to know that you've been keeping yourself here, stuck in your own grief..." You lean into his touch and take a deep breath, "I just need time, Zayne..."

He presses a kiss to your forehead, "I know. But I won't allow you to do this on your own anymore." Your heart swells. Zayne isn't usually one to outwardly express his emotions, but things were different now. He just wanted you to be happy again. He pulls you in for a tight embrace; muscular arms keeping you pressed against him. You relax in his arms, your head nuzzled into the crook of his neck and you breathe in his scent.

Zayne smooths your hair down lovingly and kisses the top on your head, "How about I prepare a bath for you? I want you to be able to relax." You think for a moment then nod, "Okay... I think that would be nice..." You raise your head to look up at him, "Thank you.." He gives you a subtle smile and releases you from his embrace, "Of course."

The sound of running water is soothing as the tub fills up, steam billowing over the edge and swirling around the bathroom. Zayne rummages through your bathroom cabinets, in search of anything that could make the bath more soothing for you. Finding what he was looking for, he straightens up, holding a bag of lavender bath salts and a scented candle. The handle squeaks when he turns off the water and little droplets drip from the spout.

You walk in as Zayne is putting in a scoop of the bath salts and you watch the little crystal-like grains float to the bottom. He speaks without looking at you as he closes the bag and set it on the counter, "The bath salts will help your muscles relax and soothe any other aching you may be experiencing." One corner of your lips twitch in slight amusement with the way he could go from being a loving boyfriend to your primary care physician.

Zayne continues on as he lights the vanilla scented candle for you, the warm glow reflecting on his face, "The scent of vanilla will help relax your mind, as well as reduce your heart rate and blood pressure." He finally looks to you with a raised eyebrow when he hears the softest laughter come from you, "Did I say something to amuse you?" He can hardly act stern when he finally sees the small smile that plays on your lips; the corners of his turn upwards, "Nevermind. It's good to see you smile again..."

You shift your weight on your feet as you feel the butterflies in your stomach, trying to allow yourself to feel happy amidst everything that has happened. It felt wrong and your smile slips. Zayne takes notice and looks concerned as he approaches you. He softly grips your chin and tilts your head up to his, "You are allowed to feel happiness. Do not try to convince yourself otherwise." You release a breath as you take in his words, "You're right... I'm sorry." He purses his lips, "Don't apologize." Zayne releases his grip only to caress your cheek, "Come on. I don't want the water to cool."

You nod and reach for the hem of your sweatshirt and Zayne looks away, stepping around you to leave the bathroom and give you privacy, but you catch his wrist, "Stay." He searches your features as if he was making sure you really wanted that. You look sincere and you speak softly, "Now that you're here, I... Don't want to be left alone anymore." Zayne's relaxes and nods once, "Then I'll stay."

With his answer, you let go of his wrist and lift your sweatshirt over your head, letting it drop to the tiled floor beneath you. Your breasts lift and fall with your motion, and Zayne swallows hard. You turn around and bend over slightly as you slip your sleep shorts and panties down your legs. He reflexively averts his gaze even though he had seen you bare before, underneath him and sharing heavy breaths.

You step into the tub of steaming water, the tension visibly leaving your body as you settle in. Zayne finally steals a glance at you, hazel eyes wandering from your relaxed face to the way the water rippled around your breasts to the rhythm of your slow breathing. You crack open one eye and peek at him, chuckling softly to yourself when you catch where his gaze is. The soft sound of your laughter snaps him out of it and he looks away, clearing his throat, "I apologize. I shouldn't-"

You shush him, opening your eyes fully now, "Now you're the one apologizing. It's not necessary." He chews at the inside of his cheek and frowns, "I know, but... Still. You're still in the grieving process and here I am being... inappropriate." This pulls a full laugh from you and you sit up a little straighter; the warm water sloshing from the disturbance; breasts now resting on top of the water.

The sound of your laughter and the better view of your breasts sends tingles straight to his heart and down to the bulge he was beginning to sport under his slacks. Zayne huffs and pinches the bridge of his nose, "There you go laughing again when I'm trying to be serious..." Your laughter dies down and you smile softly, extending your hand towards him, "Come here..." He looks down at your hand and then back to your face as he ponders your request.

With a heavy sigh, he comes to you, kneeling down by the side of the tub, "What do you need?" You keep your hand open, palm facing upwards and give him a small pout. Zayne now knows exactly what you're asking for. He looks a bit annoyed, but truthfully he didn't mind doing this for you whenever you requested. He rests his jaw in your palm and his hazel eyes meet yours, "Are you happy now?"

You nod with a little smile as he gives a ghost of his own and leans back again, "I think you've been in there long enough. If you stay much longer, you'll dehydrate." Without waiting for a response from you, Zayne stands back up and grabs your towel from the hook and holds it open for you. You let out a breath as you carefully rise up, not wanting to slip. Zayne wraps the towel around your body and without warning, swoops you up bridal style, making you gasp, "Zayne!"

He looks down at you with a confused expression as if what he did was a perfectly normal thing to do, "What?" You pout as he holds you closer, taking you back to the bedroom, "A little warning would've been nice..." Zayne ignores your comment and lowers your legs first to let you stand on your own. You adjust the towel around your body, turning your back to him, and go to grab a fresh set of pajamas. Zayne watches you closely as you move; his cock stirring in his slacks once again.

As soon as your towel drops to the ground, he's fighting the urge to to take you where you stand. You slip on one of his oversized sweatshirts that you had stolen borrowed from him and then turn to face him. He puts on a disapproving face, even though on the inside Zayne felt his heart skip, "My sweatshirt... You do realize I have been looking everywhere for that one right?" You crack a sheepish grin, "Oops?" Zayne huffs out a breath, "It's fine." Then he mutters, "It looks better on you anyways..."

You smile a little at his comment and sit on the bed, "You know.. You still have some clothes here. If you're going to stay you should change too. I washed them for you." Zayne raises a brow at that, about to make a teasing remark about you being able to wash his clothes but not the ones scattered across your floor, but he holds his tongue. Now was not the right moment to make a comment about that now that he had you feeling a bit better.

Instead he nods and and turns to find his clothes folded neatly on top of your dresser. Grabbing a pair of sweats and a plain white t-shirt, he heads to your bathroom to change, "One moment." You watch as he closes the bathroom door behind him, still open just a crack. You can't help but peek at him as he undresses from his formal work attire, absentmindedly licking your lips as your eyes trail down his form.

He slips the clean, comfortable clothes on and comes back out to you, taking note of the slight blush of your cheeks, "Are you feeling sick?" Zayne presses the back of his hand against your forehead. You laugh softly and grab his wrist and press a kiss to his palm, "I'm not sick." The feeling of your kiss lingers on his palm once you release him, "That's good then..."

You lay back on the mattress and look up at the ceiling and then sigh, looking back to Zayne, "I thought you said you'd lay with me?" He gives a hint of a smile and lays down beside you, propping himself up with his hand as he faces you. You both stay silent for a moment, simply taking in each other's presence before Zayne is the first one to speak, "Tell me, what more can I do to make you feel better?"

You turn your body towards him, eyes trailing down from his eyes to his lips and lingering for a moment, “Just… hold me.” The slightest smile appears in his lips and he pulls you close. His hand rests on the back of your head as your face nuzzles into his chest.

Zayne presses three slow little kisses to the top of your head, breathing in your scent. “I’ve got you and I’m never going anywhere”, his voice comes out hushed with a hint of sentimentality that makes your heart swell in your chest.

You let out a small breath, pressing yourself impossibly closer against his body, wishing you could just melt into him. As his arms tighten around you, the realization that you're not the only one with an aching wish hits you.

Surprised, you unearth your face from his chest only to be met by the sensation of his lips upon yours. You detect the gentleness, the care and longing he feels for you through the kiss… And something more.

There's a hunger you can taste in his embrace, and it takes everything in you not to moan out in response. Zayne's cock twitches beneath his sweats and he lets a small groan escape from his lips against yours. The sound alone has arousal pooling between your legs and your tongue prods against his before finding a sensual rhythm.

His hands begin to wander down your body and rest on your ass as he gives it a gentle squeeze, grinding his clothed cock against you. Zayne pulls back just enough to speak huskily, "Tell me to stop and I will." All you can do is shake your head, not trusting your voice enough to form proper words in this moment.

Right now, all you wanted was to lose yourself in him, to forget everything you've been through up until this moment. All that mattered was you and Zayne and your burning need for him.

A small smirk plays on his lips and he adjusts his position, now with you underneath him. Your eyes lock onto his, your lips parted slightly in a breathless and wordless need. "You don't need to say anything, sweetheart...", Zayne starts, leaning down as he presses a soft kiss to your temple, "I told you I would take care of you and that's a promise I will always keep."

The cutest little whimper escapes your lips, making him let out a soft chuckle as his hands trail up under your sweatshirt, "It seems I have quite the effect on you..." Your back arches to met his touch and his thumbs brush over your hardened nipples. "That's it, sweetheart. Just relax and enjoy this."

You couldn't ignore the request, not that you wanted to anyways. Zayne's calloused hands felt electric against your heated skin, sending a pleasurable shiver up your spine and straight to your core. God, just this is enough to have your entrance clenching for him.

The process of grieving, cocooned in your solitude and away from Zayne almost made you forget how badly your body needed him. Almost. As if he can sense your burning need, one of his hands trails down your abdomen and rests on your thigh. His fingertips begin to lightly trace towards your soaking pussy, Zayne's off hand still molding around the swell of your breast, "Go on and spread your legs for me, love. Let me make you feel better..."

Your breath hitches and you obey his gentle command, spreading your legs apart and exposing your needy hole to him. Zayne's hot breath fans over your lips as a small smile plays on his, "Oh, so you can follow instructions..." You would've rolled your eyes as you usually would at a playful comment like that from him, but this wasn't under normal circumstances. You were way too needy for him right now and it was apparent in the soft little whine that comes out.

Zayne's fingers inch towards where you're aching for his touch and your hips instinctively raise up. Your eyes almost roll all the way back the second his thumb grazes against your clit and begins to move in slow circles, drawing out a moan from your lips.

Your exclamation of pleasure is swallowed by him as his lips seal around yours, Zayne's thumb now moving with far more vigor. Both of you are locked in a dance of sensuality, tasting each other's breaths and sounds as he unrelentingly draws out every drop of your want.

“You’re always so beautiful…”, Zayne breathes out, his thumb now slick from your arousal. You do your best to keep your eyes on his, but everything feels so hazy in the best of ways. All because of him, always because of him. Before you can even beg him for more, he nips lightly at your bottom lip and his voice comes out husky, “Please tell me I can take you right here, right now…”

He leans back just enough that his lips still graze yours as his hazel eyes search yours to make sure you’re still doing okay. He would do anything for you. He would even stop everything if you asked him to despite his hardened cock throbbing with need for you and you alone.

All you can manage is a small nod of your head and that’s all it takes for him to begin to tug down his sweats. But then he pauses, letting out a gruff sigh earning him a confused and dazed look from you. Seeing the look in your eyes, a soft hint of a smile plays on his lips, it's reassuring, “This isn’t about me right now, my love. This is about making you feel better and here I was about to be selfish.”

You paused for a moment and let out a huff of laughter, “You can be sel-“ Your words are interrupted by his quick readjustment of position and his mouth suddenly around your clit.

You suck in a sharp breath, your head tilts up against the plush pillow as your pretty lips part in pleasure. Zayne’s tongue flicks out as he begins to lap at your clit with gentle measure and just enough pressure to leave you whining for more friction.

Your hips buck slightly to meet his movements as his tongue slides between your folds and laps up your sweet arousal. If it was up to him, he would’ve stayed there all night, perfectly content to focus on your pleasure alone, but you wanted… no. You needed more. Your fingers slide into his soft dark hair, giving it a gentle tug to draw his attention to you.

Reluctantly, Zayne’s eyes meet yours once more, but not before giving your clit a little lick, “What is it, love?” You let out a breath that conveys your neediness more than any words ever could and Zayne knows you well enough to know exactly what you’re asking for.

Zayne gives a small smirk as he sits up, his eyes locked on yours, and tugs down his sweats, freeing his thick and throbbing length. Precum glistens on the tip and so much has gathered that it begins to drip down in a pearlescent strand that has you licking your lips.

Zayne’s large hand strokes his cock in a tantalizing motion that you can’t take your eyes off of. Slowly, he lowers himself once more and you spread your legs a little wider to accommodate his toned frame. His dripping tip rubs against your entrance, catching lightly on your clit which makes you draw in a breath.

“Tell me if it gets to be too much”, Zayne breathes out lowly before gently breaching your tight, slick walls. His nose scrunches up in pleasure as he lets out a groan. The feeling of being filled up by him feels heavenly and your mind immediately goes blank.

“Fuck, sweetheart… I swear you were made for me and me alone”, Zayne growls out softly. Once he’s fully inside, stretching you out so perfectly, he relaxes against you. His toned chest presses against your breasts and his nose nuzzles against yours, “You’re so perfect…” Everything about this moment is perfection. It’s something you didn’t even realize how much you missed in your time away from him until this very moment.

Zayne begins to move in a slow rhythm that has you feeling every inch of him, the tip of his leaking cock pressing into the deepest part of you and the thickness of his length that fills you in a way that makes you feel as though you’re finally complete.

Zayne presses little kisses against your lips as he makes love to you in the sweetest way. All he cares about is your comfort, pleasure, and happiness. He always has and always will be your sword and shield. In the days where you feel as if the world itself is hellbent on delivering a rain of sorrow upon your soul, Zayne will brave the downpour alongside you. In the coldest of nights, his embrace will continue to serve you as the warmest suit of armor. His love for you is ultimate. You are his reason.

Your voice breaks, the sound that leaps from your throat being an emotional mix of a sob and a moan. “Zayne, I-I need you.” You swear you can feel his cock throb against your upper walls in response to your declaration. Through all of your shared history, you can't recall a single time where you've produced such a raw profession of love. And, as your eyes flutter open to meet his, you know he understands the same.

“I’m here and I’m not going anywhere”, Zayne whispers against your lips, “Not now, not ever.” Before you can even form a response of your own, his lips seal around yours in the most tender of kisses. His hips follow suit, rolling and meeting your own with the most passionate and loving of movements. You moan into his mouth, breathing out into him as he breathes you in.

Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to you. His skin against yours, his cock drooling within your clenching walls, the taste of his moans upon your eternally wanting mouth… You feel yourself becoming one with Zayne. Your tight walls begin to squeeze around his cock, signaling how close you were to your end.

“Fuck…”, Zayne growls out in response to the feeling, thrusting a little harder as his cock throbs with the need to cum. But, again, this wasn’t about him. His priority is you.

Zayne reaches down and begins to thumb your clit in quick but measured circles, “Cum for me, my love. I need to feel you cum around my cock.” His breathing is labored as he desperately tries to hold back from filling you with his cum. He’s so desperate to bring you to your own orgasm before he allows himself to cum.

With a sweet cry from your swollen, kissed lips, you come undone around his thick length. Your walls pulsate around his cock, causing Zayne to bury his face into your neck with a groan. He can’t hold back any longer as his cock begins to throb wildly and thick ropes of cum spill inside of you. The feeling of his hot seed pooling inside of you, his breath pelting your sensitive neck…

You lose yourself to the torrent of pleasure that gushes from between your legs. “I love you…”, you breathe your need for him to life as you both simultaneously reach your peak. Zayne’s body relaxes on top of yours, his cock still nestled inside your soaked pussy.

You both lay there for a moment. Your hearts are both beating wildly, yet somehow still in sync. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, your nose, and then your lips before he speaks so softly and full of warmth, “I’ll always be here for you, my love.”

You feel your eyelids grow heavy, a grand warmth soothing every nerve in your body. Every ounce of love that Zayne houses within his heart has poured into you, and for the first time in your life, you accept it all without pretext. As your eyes close and before the soothing stillness of sleep takes you, a final sentence falls from his lips.

“I promise.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆ .𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆

a/n: fun fact, i started this back in march and lost touch with it but HERE WE ARE!

[novaursa]

The Fire That Was Promised

- Summary: You burn down King’s Landing in an act of revenge before flying to Shadowlands.

- Paring: sister!reader/Aegon I Targaryen (one-sided)

- Note: This short story is one of the possible endings to The Broken Crown series, where Y/N takes revenge against her brother.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @fiction-fanfic-reader @fireandblood-mharmie @poisonedsultana @sunset18rose

The wind tears at your hair as Tesaerix’s powerful wings slice through the air, carrying you higher and farther from the place that no longer feels like home. The dark expanse of the Narrow Sea stretches below you, a boundless void that mirrors the one gnawing at your heart. You should be bound for Winterfell, not Essos, wrapped in the furs of the North and preparing to wed Torrhen Stark. Instead, you’re flying away from everything you thought you’d ever wanted. Everything that should have been yours.

Your thoughts twist and turn, darker than the night sky around you. Aegon had taken everything from you. He had called off your betrothal with a cold, ruthless command, casting aside the promise of a life and family that had been within your grasp. Your role as his sister-wife, his conquest, had been his choice, not yours. You were the youngest, the last to be claimed by his insatiable hunger for power—and perhaps something more.

Anger thrums through you, a living thing, and you feel it course through Tesaerix as well. Your bond is deep, your emotions shared. The mighty dragon's blood-red eyes flicker with the same rage that seethes in your veins. You grit your teeth, clutching the reins tighter. The sky blurs as hot tears sting your eyes. Tears of frustration, of loss, of betrayal. You’re fleeing, yes, but there’s no solace to be found in running.

You’ve flown long enough.

Without a word, you guide Tesaerix in a sharp, spiraling turn, your heart hammering as you abandon your course to Essos. The golden dragon roars in response, a sound of confusion, anger—and something else. As if she, too, senses the burning desire that has ignited within you. Revenge.

King’s Landing looms on the horizon, a sprawling city bathed in the eerie glow of the moon. The sight of it fuels your wrath. The seat of your brother’s power, the very heart of his kingdom—and your prison. The memory of Aegon’s face, impassive and unyielding as he broke your betrothal, flashes before you. He had not cared for your happiness, for your wishes. He had seen only what was his to take, to control.

“Dracarys,” you whisper, your voice trembling with fury and resolve.

Tesaerix responds instantly, diving down toward the city like an arrow loosed from a bow. Her massive form eclipses the moon as she descends, her wings unfurling in a terrifying display of strength. You can feel the heat building in her chest, the deep rumble that precedes a dragon’s breath of fire.

The first burst of flame hits the Flea Bottom, a rush of golden fire that spreads like a wave over the ramshackle buildings. Screams rise up from below, a cacophony of panic and pain. You feel no remorse, no hesitation. Aegon took your future; now you’ll take his city.

The Great Sept crumbles beneath the onslaught of dragonfire, the stained glass windows shattering in a shower of molten shards. The bells ring out, a desperate, mournful sound that echoes through the dying city. Tesaerix roars, her own fury mingling with yours, and you feel the bond between you surge, unbreakable, forged in this moment of wrath and ruin.

You leave only the Aegonfort untouched, a twisted gift to your brother, the conqueror who took and took until there was nothing left of you but a vessel for his ambitions. Let him rule over the ashes of his realm, let him see what his greed has wrought.

As the city burns, you turn Tesaerix’s head towards the east. You cast one last glance at the inferno below, the flames painting the sky with a hellish glow. It is done. You have nothing left here but ghosts and memories, and you refuse to be haunted any longer.

With a sharp command, you urge Tesaerix onward, her powerful wings carrying you away from the smoking ruin of King’s Landing. The air is heavy with the scent of destruction, the cries of the dying fading into the distance as you climb higher, breaking through the veil of smoke and cloud.

You imagine Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya scrambling in confusion, rushing to their dragons. But you are already beyond their reach, the skies your domain, your dragon faster and fiercer than they could ever hope to match. By the time they take to the air, King’s Landing is a smoldering ruin, the night sky painted with the orange glow of the burning city.

And you do not look back again. You set your sights on the Shadowlands, on the mysteries and dangers that await you beyond the known world. You are no longer Aegon’s sister, no longer the bride denied. You are the dragon unleashed, and the world will remember this night as the first of many that you will carve your own fate into the very bones of history.

You leave the Aegonfort standing alone, a silent monument in a city of the dead, for him to find in the cold light of dawn. Let him see the ruin you have wrought, the empire of ash he has earned.

[firenati0n]

hello friends :) i am so sorry i have been...so behind on all things tag games and writing challenges. i have been riding the struggle bus and i am Doing My Best but a lot of things have suffered in the meantime, like writing consistently. thank you so much for continuing to tag me in these, it means a lot that people think of me or read my work. i will always be grateful for my friends and readers and everyone who shows me kindness. anyway, many thanks as always! <3 much love for y'all.

i have been posting random prompt fics and drabbles here and there, while slowly updating people ruin people as inspiration strikes. I also made a fun graphic for proposal au and people ruin people! i hope to get back into the swing of things soon. not rushing it though, because rest is important. but i don't do well with stillness, you know? I'm not used to that. but i hope y'all have enjoyed the random words in recent weeks! i have written some things I'm very proud of and happy with in the prompt collection especially. and people ruin people is truly a stretch of my writing muscles...I'm not used to angst. but it's fun! it's hard, too. but so far people have been very kind about it!

here's a long snip from a flufftober prompt for ingredients and spells, it will be a little sequel / extension of the kiki's delivery service au / warlock!henry and baker!alex i posted a while back!

Henry is eight, and he can’t sleep.  The trees outside are too big, their shadows too scary in his window as the wind makes the branches thump against the glass. He rubs at his eyes before digging his head in his pillow again, hoping sleep claims him. From underneath his door, light filters in from the hallway—his mother is probably in the kitchen, grinding herbs and ingredients for her potions.  If there’s anyone who can help him, it’s her. “Oh, my little love,” she says, when Henry walks into the kitchen, knowing he looks as miserable as he feels. “Are we having trouble sleeping?” He nods. “I have just the thing.” She flits around, grabbing leaves and powders from the cupboard to grind before mixing everything in a pot. The smell of chamomile and honey fills the kitchen, warm and comforting.  She pours the potion into two mugs and hands one to Henry with a soft smile. “This should help, my darling. Here, I’ll drink it with you.” They both sip their drinks in comfortable silence. Henry can already feel the magical effects of the brew in his body, limbs starting to sag, head feeling heavy. His eyelids flutter, and Catherine notices.  “Up we go,” she says, before putting the mugs in the sink and scooping Henry up in her arms. He is warm, and he is safe, and he is sleepy.  After he’s all tucked in, duvet up to his chin, he sneaks an arm out to clutch his mother’s shirt as she moves to get off the bed.  “Please,” he pleads quietly. "Not yet." She settles in next to him, slender fingers carding through his hair as she hums. He drifts off, the smell of tea and honey blanketing him. He never learns what was in the brew. Catherine calls it her secret recipe, just for Henry. 

xoxo roop

+ open tag + tagging back everyone who got me in the past few weeks. it's been a while afjslkdjfklasdf

@seths-rogens @sherryvalli @sophie1973 @orchidscript @cha-melodius

@whimsymanaged @kiwiana-writes @alasse9 @porcelainmortal @wordsofhoneydew

@firstprincehornyramblings @run-for-chamo-miles @miharaikko @blueeyedgrlwrites @onthewaytosomewhere

@cultofsappho @ninzied @sparklepocalypse @clottedcreamfudge @zwiazdziarka

@clockwrkpendrxgon @milowren29 @thesleepyskipper @msmarvelouswinchester @caterpills

@suseagull04 @judasofsuburbia @getmehighonmagic @onward--upward @stellarmeadow

@welcometololaland @indestructibleheart @miss-minnelli @thedramasummer @priincebutt

@incalamity @stratocumulusperlucidus @leaves-of-laurelin @14carrotghoul @anincompletelist

[onepiece-writting-forest]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 4 - ʙᴏʏ ᴛᴀʟᴋ

Summary: In the middle of exams and a diet of instant noodles, you decide to order some take out. What you did not expect was your delivery person to be a hot guy on a motorcycle, who, as fate would have it, happens to be a fellow student at your university.

chapter notes.: Penguin and Shachi being really interested in who Law had a study date with, and mentioning of Laws ex gf, also uncle Rosi mentions <3

tags.: One Piece, Trafalgar Law, Law x Reader, NSFW, slow burn romance (?), Modern AU, law has a motorcycle cuz its hot, Penguin and Shachi appearing as flat mates, Rosinante as the loving uncle, Laws crazy Ex,

[ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ɪɴᴅᴇx]

Law wanted to text you. He felt a bit guilty for leaving so abruptly without a proper goodbye. Maybe he could use the chance to apologize for his quick disappearance or, better yet, set up another study session. He had to admit, the last one had been surprisingly productive—way more than he’d expected. Your structured notes made it easier for him to memorize the material, and that wasn’t something that happened often.

Initially, he agreed to study with you because he was running out of time and figured someone who always seemed to be buried in their books could save him some effort. It might’ve sounded opportunistic—and honestly, it was. Sure, he enjoyed your company, but the main reason was to cram effectively. He wasn’t ready to admit, even to himself, that your presence actually helped him unwind, even for just a moment.

Still, he couldn't find the right time to message you. Walking home with Penguin, he didn't want to risk sending a text and having to deal with his teasing. Penguin already joked that their "study date" was more of an actual date, and that was already irritating enough. Even if it was something more, it wasn’t any of his business.

“By the way, those puns were terrible. Seriously, you’ve got to cut them, Peng,” Law muttered as he dropped onto the worn-out couch in their living room. Penguin already popping open a cold beer and handing one over to Law.

Before Penguin could defend himself, Shachi strolled out of the bathroom, a towel draped around his neck, his damp brown hair pushed back, still dripping slightly. He was already dressed in his usual comfortable clothes and hearing the conversation, he wanted to comment on Penguins thesis as well, which he also proof read for him.

"Yeah, Peng. You're supposed to impress your professor with your thesis, not make him cringe."

"Guys, come on, there's a strategy here!" Penguin held up his hands in mock defense, already sensing the incoming wave of criticism. He sat down next to Law and wanted to explain his…creative way of writing.

Both Law and Shachi exchanged suspicious looks but gave Penguin a chance to talk.

“My professor is basically a walking dad joke. I figured slipping in a couple of puns would make it more… relatable, you know?”

Shachi frowned, grabbing a beer before slumping onto the couch next to them. “Dude, it's an academic thesis, not open mic night. Are you sure that's the right call?”

Law was quiet for a second, considering it. Then he shrugged. "If your professor’s into that sort of thing, maybe toss one in... but just one. At the conclusion or something.”

“Are you seriously encouraging this?” Shachi raised his eyebrows, clearly in disbelief, especially coming from Law.

Law took a long sip from his beer, then shrugged again, nonchalant as ever. Maybe it was his exhausted mind talking nonsense, but honestly he didn’t really mind it if there was a reason. It didn’t sound stupid.

"Look, it's not like anyone else is gonna read it, and if the professor enjoys that kind of humor, why not? But, for the love of god, Penguin—just one pun. You’ve got way too many in there. It’s distracting."

Penguin sighed and leaned back against the couch, nodding. Law noticed his shift in demeanor—maybe constantly criticizing his work wasn’t the best idea. After all, Penguin had poured months into that thesis, combing through scientific papers, fitting them into his argument, all while completely neglecting his health and barely taking any breaks. Law knew that both his friends were sharp, even though they liked to goof around a lot. Law couldn't deny that. Penguin was knee-deep in marine biology, while Shachi tackled mechanical engineering. Both degrees demanded a lot from students, and Law had nothing but respect for their dedication.

“Besides the puns, it's a solid thesis,” Law said in his usual flat tone, reaching for the remote to turn on their small TV. It sat precariously on a makeshift shelf they’d salvaged from a dumpster. After a few minor repairs, it became somewhat usable.

They had agreed early on not to let their apartment turn into a disaster zone but also didn’t want to spend much money on new furniture. Despite that, the place had a cozy charm. Each of them had pitched in, decorating with random posters they’d stumbled upon, pictures of the group, or bits and pieces they’d brought from home. It was an unspoken rule to keep it reasonably clean. Sure, there were occasionally pots “soaking” in the sink for far too long, and maybe some breadcrumbs were left scattered on the floor, but overall, the place wasn’t a mess.

Hearing the first bit of positive feedback from Law, Penguin looked over, his eyes wide with surprise. “Really?”

Shachi also noticing that some positive feedback was probably more constructive than just criticism, he was ready to lift the mood, giving Penguin a hearty slap on the shoulder. “Yeah, man! It’s a great read. I’m sure you’ll ace it. Seriously, stop worrying.”

“Honestly, the only thing I found to fix were those puns, anything else was good.” Law added, propping his head in his hand, his attention still on the TV. That was probably the most support you could get out of Law, generally speaking but also considering how drained he was.

Penguin’s face lit up with a wide smile, finally relaxing into the couch. After all the stress, getting approval from Law and Shachi felt good. “Thanks, guys. That means a lot!“

That being said, a comfortable silence settled between the three young men, which Law was very eager to enjoy. To his dismay however, Penguin wasn’t one to just sit there in silence and spilled the beans out of nowhere, now shifting the attention to Law. „By the way, Law was out with a girl.”

Law’s eyes narrowed in an instant. “I take it back. Your thesis is shit.” He shot Penguin a death glare, knowing exactly where this was headed. Shachi perked up immediately, practically sliding over for the incoming gossip.

“Oh ho ho, really?” He wiggled his eyebrows, grinning like a kid with a secret. “Is she pretty?”

“Yeah, man! You should’ve seen her! The way she—”

“I swear, Penguin, I’ll rewrite your entire thesis with nothing but dad jokes and send it straight to your professor.”

“C’mon, Law!” Shachi joined in, unable to resist. “You never go out with anyone. Obviously, we’re curious!”

Law rolled his eyes, trying to shut out the teasing, but the smug grins from both Shachi and Penguin made it clear he wasn’t escaping this conversation easily. He took a long swig from his beer and let out a dramatic sigh. “We were just studying.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure," Shachi waved off the uninteresting part, leaning forward with a grin. "How’d you meet? At uni? In a lab?”

Law could tell Shachi wasn’t interested in hearing what they were studying. It had been years since Law had anything serious with someone, and even that had fizzled out quickly. His last real relationship, back at the start of university, had been a disaster—his ex was a little... unhinged, to say the least. Aside from that, there were the occasional one-night stands after parties, but nothing anyone would consider serious.

He hesitated, thinking of a way to dodge the subject. But he remembered how often his uncle, had told him to open up more, at least to Penguin and Shachi. They were practically his brothers, after all. Law knew these two could handle his closed-off nature—they’d been doing it for years. If anyone deserved a peek past his walls, it was them. Rosinante was right after all.

He sighed, leaning his head back against the couch. “I met her during work.”

Penguin’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, while you were delivering food? How did you even end up meeting her like that?”

It was a fair question. Delivering food didn’t exactly lend itself to romantic meet-cutes, and Law wasn’t exactly Mr. Charisma when it came to flirting. It was hard to imagine how this had come about.

“Yep, brought her food,” Law replied, keeping it deliberately vague, the mischievous grin tugging at his lips. He knew that wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy them and was clearly enjoying dragging it out.

Penguin, not amused by the teasing, gave him a playful slap on the shoulder. “Oh, come on! You can’t just leave it at that!”

Law smirked, savoring the moment. He tried to play it cool, but his friends were too excited to let him brush it off. Sure, your company was comforting, you were smart, and yes, you were undeniably pretty—but Law barely knew you. He’d only met you once outside of that study session, and he wasn’t about to jump to conclusions.

“Yeah, last week or so, I brought her order and—,” Law began, leaning back into the couch, his voice steady.

“Oh, the night you had to work overtime and finish that other assignment?” Shachi asked, recalling how exhausted Law had looked when he got home. He’d been worried—those dark circles under Law’s eyes seemed to be getting worse every day. Shachi had been silently wondering if Law was pushing himself too close to a burnout.

Law nodded, taking another sip of his beer. “Yeah, that night. She brought me some water, and—”

“Aww, that’s so sweet of her!” Penguin interrupted with a grin, earning a sharp look from Law.

“Can I finish without you two chiming in every five seconds?” Law huffed, clearly not used to being in the spotlight like this.

“Sorry, sorry,” Penguin chuckled, leaning back and gesturing for Law to continue. He could barely contain his excitement, but he tried.

“Anyway, she asked why I looked so rushed, and turns out she’s doing meds too—studying for the same exam next week.” Law shrugged like it was no big deal. “She suggested we study together. Saved me some time to work with someone who’s ahead of me.”

Shachi and Penguin exchanged a glance, their eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“Wait, hold up. She suggested it?” Shachi asked, eyes wide.

“Yup.” Law met their gaze, already anticipating where this was going.

Shachi and Penguin looked at each other again, clearly having an unspoken conversation, before turning back to Law, their expressions a mix of disbelief and amusement. They both leaned forward like parents about to explain the facts of life to their clueless child.

“Dude, she definitely has a thing for you,” Penguin said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Law just gave a casual shrug, as if it was no big deal. “Nah, I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean ‘nah’? She went out of her way to ask you to study with her,” Shachi insisted, looking at Law like he was the densest person on the planet. “People don’t do that for just anyone.”

Law’s expression remained unreadable. “She just wanted to study. We’re in the same degree. It's not that deep.”

Penguin shook his head, grinning. “Come on, man. She brings you water, chats you up, and then suggests a study date? You don’t see anything in that?”

Law sighed, trying to stay grounded. “She’s just being nice. I’m not reading into it.”

Shachi laughed, slapping his knee. “You’re hopeless. She’s into you, dude. Mark my words.”

Penguin nodded, clearly enjoying the teasing, while Law rolled his eyes again, though this time, a small grin tugged at his lips. His friends were hopeless romantics, always reading into every tiny gesture, convinced it meant someone was interested. Law, on the other hand, was the complete opposite—almost too oblivious to the idea that anyone could like him in a romantic way. He figured people didn't really go for someone as cold and closed-off as he was. Besides, he didn’t have time for a relationship.

“Remember when you were with Yuki?” Penguin chimed in, leaning back. “You didn’t think she liked you at first either.”

Law groaned. “Yeah… I wish she didn’t.”

Both Penguin and Shachi snickered, fully agreeing. Yuki had been... a handful, to say the least. Law’s brief relationship with her was still a running joke among the three of them.

She was also in meds, coming from the North as well and coincidentally from a neighbouring city. It wasn’t too far from Flevance. Back the Law was missing his home town quite a bit, Yuki had helped ease his homesickness with their shared experience from the North. Honestly she was really nice in the beginning, yet it started to spiral once things got serious. Even after Law ended the relationship, she wouldn’t leave him alone. It was a very unhealthy and obsessive relationship.

“She still texting you?” Shachi asked, making himself comfortable again as if bracing for the gossip.

Law shook his head. “Nope. Blocked her. But I’m pretty sure she’s still following me with a second account on Instagram.”

Shachi let out a dramatic sigh.

“Never stick peepee into crazy.”

At that, all three raised their bottles in unison. “Cheers,” they said together, clinking their bottles and taking a long drink. It was a victory toast—a reminder that Law had finally escaped the whirlwind that was his ex and her drama.

Just as Law was about to refocus on the TV, his phone buzzed. A new message. He casually pulled it out and glanced at the screen—it was from you. Unlocking his phone, he read the text from you. It was simple: a thank-you for today and a question about meeting up again for studying. Nothing out of the ordinary, but it caught his attention enough to make him put his beer aside and reply right away.

Of course, his friends noticed immediately. Penguin leaned in, trying to sneak a glance at Law’s phone. "Y/N… is that her?"

Shachi perked up again, sitting upright, all traces of his earlier relaxation gone. "Oh, oh, what’s she saying?"

Law sighed, turning his phone away from Penguin, who was getting a little too close for comfort. “Ever heard of privacy?” he muttered, giving them both a warning look.

Penguin exchanged a mischievous grin with Shachi. "She wants to meet up again, doesn’t she?"

Law groaned, clearly annoyed. "It's just for studying. Now leave me alone."

“You could invite her over—” Shachi started, the teasing tone back in his voice.

“Definitely not.“

The last thing he needed was his friends playing matchmaker or causing any more awkwardness.

“Fine, fine, you're no fun... but how about this?” Shachi persisted, undeterred by the warning glare from Law. His patience was already wearing thin, and he was starting to regret even mentioning you to his friends, but Shachi was never one to be easily intimidated.

Law sighed, letting him continue. There was no stopping Shachi when he was on a roll.

“Do whatever you want, study for your exam, but if she seems cool, maybe bring her to the party in two weeks?” Shachi suggested casually.

“What party? The one your engineering group is throwing?” Law asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah, that one. By the way, Ikkaku said she’d come too,” Shachi added quickly, his tone more genuine this time. He wasn't trying to push Law into anything, just offering an idea.

Law looked at him for a moment, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. It was a simple, friendly offer, not the usual teasing. Shachi knew Law had sworn off dating after Yuki‘s chaotic exit from his life, but he was just trying to help him see that not every connection had to be a disaster.

“Just think about it," Shachi continued. "Study with her, get to know her, and if things feel right, you can bring her along. It's not like you're signing up for a lifelong commitment.”

Penguin chimed in, grinning. “Yeah, man, no one's saying you have to get married. Just have a little fun, meet some people. Who knows?”

Law rolled his eyes but didn’t dismiss the idea outright. He was always packed with work and studying that socializing, let alone dating, had taken a backseat. The idea of bringing you to a party wasn’t the worst thing in the world. He could keep it casual, see where things went—no pressure, no expectations.

“We’ll see,” Law muttered, and took his beer back and leaned into the couch once more. He was glad the topic was over, and he could finally relax…even though you still ghosted around in his mind, especially after what his friends had told him.

Where you really interested?

…Nah, couldn’t be.

tag list: @mars-mizuko (Comment to be added 🖤)

[aziraphales-library]

Y’all are awesome and I appreciate the hell out of this account! Any fics that are an attempt at a season 3? Preferably comedic ones! Thank you so much and keep up the amazing work! ❤️

Hello. We have a #good omens s3 speculation tag, so check that out. Here are more to add that have some kind of humour tag...

a place to be by kaiyen (NR)

In which Crowley moves back into his flat, Aziraphale has problems at work, and the Second Coming of Christ is but a stone's throw away. In the end, Crowley makes it to rolling green hills, leant against a stubbornly yellow Bentley. He remembers the first morning. He had slithered out of the ground not long before dawn, the dirt damp even before the first rain, the grass cool and crisp against his scales. And the sun had risen, jewels spilling across the great blue sky, warm and golden from the East. Crowley – Crawly, then – had wanted to follow it, had felt a great pull Eastwards. He went, too, until he found the ripe red fruit nestled amongst the lush green leaves and knew what they were for. It was luck, then, that the humans had left in the direction of the sunrise. Luck, or– ineffable. The sun rises over the South Downs, and Crowley finally wants to stay.

The Ineffable Shades of Gray (Good Omens Season 3) by altsernative (T)

After returning to Heaven, Aziraphale learns the Metatron's true intentions, finds himself disillusioned, and regrets his choice to leave Crowley, who has been working in the Temptations department. They reunite, and find themselves stopping the final war between Heaven and Hell and learning God and Satan's true intentions for the world and each other.

Demons are Forever by in_a_pickle (T)

After finallly finding the courage to tell his best friend his feelings, Crowley's dreams are shattered when Aziraphale once again chooses Heaven over happiness together. With ‘Great Plans’ afoot upstairs, Aziraphale discovers that the starring role he accepted comes with some unforeseen duties and that Crowley’s kiss has become something of a distraction. Crowley meanwhile is trying to come to terms with a broken heart and is trying to fathom why Heaven is so keen to have Aziraphale back in the fold. A mini adventure with our favourite group of two, written in case I get hit by a bus and never get to find out what happened next.

The Intended Effect by Esme_Abner (E)

A post-S2 fic that begins with a very sad Crowley and a conflicted Aziraphale and a surprisingly not-awful Jesus. It's all building toward our boys reconciling, because like everyone else, my heart is broken and I need to pick up the pieces somehow. And they might try to like save the world again, too.

(I just can't wait for) Season 3 Good Omens! by RCReveal (T)

After Season 2, I really needed to find out how Aziraphale and Crowley could get their reunion: a real reunion & not 'pretendy real'. They both have so much growing to do with neither of them, yet, being able to even say 'I love you' clearly to each other. Angel, what's going on? What kind of doublethink are you doing to still think that Heaven is the Good side & that you can't even admit to being friends? But you'll do anything to protect the World. Crowley, always planning on running. Sorry, but that won't work. If you had run at Armageddon there'd be no here to be in. But somehow, still a little seed of optimism. And wow! what you two can do together! Especially with a little help from old and new friends. So here's a story about averting the Second Coming with that great ensemble cast of characters in Heaven, Hell, and Whickber ST. Long set up, but then starts to speed up, kinda a wild ride from chapter 42 onto the end. This story is at about the same level of cursing, violence (well, maybe a little more Gaiman-esque), humor (definitely much more Terry Pratchett-esque) and romance as that of the second season.

There's a Special Place on Earth for Beings Like You by Kipje (T)

Set two years after Aziraphale leaves to become Supreme Archangel. It’s the Second Coming. Aziraphale is tasked with finding parents for the new Christ and returns to earth. He needs Crowley’s help, but the two haven’t spoken since the break-up. Crowley doesn’t want to forgive the angel, nor does he want to help out with the baby, but he finds it incredibly hard not to get involved. OR Aziraphale and Crowley raise the new Christ together; a girl named Eden. While they try to sort out their feelings and avert the apocalypse. Excerpt: Crowley had always assumed Aziraphale would want to run away with him in order to be together. He had never bothered to ask if there was a version where they would be an ‘us’ on earth. What was Aziraphale supposed to do once they arrived in the Alpha Centauri system. How would that even work with his book collection? Sure, Aziraphale had fallen in love with the demon – and it had taken him a while to be able to admit that – but he had also fallen in love with humanity, with earth. He had never planned on leaving. He knew earth would be no fun without his favourite wily serpent, but that did not mean he would be fine anywhere as long as Crowley was there. He had standards.

- Mod D

[bullet-prooflove]

The Better Man: Richie Jerimovich x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @lostinwonderland314 @fallout-girl219 @wabi-sabi1090 @morgthemagpie

Companion piece to:

One Night Stand (NSFW) - It was never meant to be more than a one night stand.

Old School - Richie and you prefer to do things old school.

Safe With You - Richie still has nightmares about how he found Michael.

Joy - The stabbing leads Richie to confront some of the doubts he has about himself.

All The Good Ones Are (NSFW) - Richie has never thought of himself as one of the good ones.

Happy Anniversary - Richie fucks up your first wedding anniversary.

Gift (NSFW) - Richie has always thought of you as a gift.

86 - Richie 86es a patron at The Bear.

It’s Saturday and Richie’s busy with the service when you pop in to pick up the takeout Carmy usually prepares for you. It’s a form of penance him and Richie worked out for fucking up your wedding anniversary. He has to make sure you’re fed every Saturday evening for the next three months to make up for monopolising your husband on what Richie deems the most important day of the year.

“Hey baby.” He greets you with a fierce kiss, one that you feel all the way down to your toes. “I can’t stop for too long.”

“I don’t mind.” You murmur with that sinful smile of yours as your fingertips straighten the lapels of his suit. “As long as you’re not too tired when you get home.”

“Never.” He whispers as his forehead comes to rest against yours. “I’m never too tired for that.”

It’s as you draw away that the expression on your face changes. Your shoulders tense and your eyes linger on something over his shoulder.

“Joy?” He questions, following your gaze as your grip on his sleeve tightens.

“Richie.” You whisper. “What is Peter doing here?”

Richie has never actually laid eyes on your ex-husband. You’d cut off all contact after you divorced the son of a bitch. He’d sent you a bottle of champagne shortly after the two of you got married with a card that said. “Don’t fuck it up this time.”

Richie had taken you out to the wasteland where his father had taught him how to shoot, before watching you blow away a thousand dollar bottle of champagne with his 9mil. It had been both cathartic and exhilarating.

Peter smiles at you from his seat, raising a hand up in greeting and something ignites inside of Richie, something furious and vengeful.

“Sugar.” He says with a dangerous lilt. “I thought we 86ed him?”

Sugar’s fingertips runs down the appointment book before it lands on the notation.

“I called him up myself.” She tells the both of you. “He must have rebooked under another name.”

“That deviant motherfucker.” Richie spits out, his eyes full of murder.

“Richie.” You say softly, tugging on his sleeve and he tilts his head towards you. “It’s ok.”

Your words should placate him but they don’t because he knows that Peter has done this intentionally, that it’s a way of fucking with your boundaries, encroaching on your territory. Your ex, he used to play mind games with you, gaslight you. Richie knows his presence here tonight is just another version of that, a way of showing you he still has control.

“I’ll see you at home.” You say, pressing your lips to his cheek.

It’s only as he watches your car exit the parking lot that he realises you’ve left behind the food that Carmy made for you. He tosses it in the trash before returning to work, waiting for his opportunity to confront that that fuckhead.

It’s when Peter stand up to use the bathroom that Richie accosts him. He grasps the other man by the scruff of his neck before he hurls him down the corridor and through the back exit.

“How fucking dare you.” Richie erupts when they break out into the alleyway. “How dare you come here and pull this shit. I should wipe that smug fucking smile right off your face.”

“And end up with a jail sentence?” Peter says, tilting his head to one side. “That would really fuck shit up for you and Joy wouldn’t it?”

“How the fuck do you know…”

“About your suspended licence or your aggravated assault charge?” Peter finishes as he tucks his hands into his pockets. “You think I wouldn’t check up on the man my ex-wife married?”

“That’s some fucked up shit right there.” Richie says, crossing his arms over his chest. “You know she told me you had issues with control but this is next level.”

Peter shrugs his shoulders.

“I like to see who my competition is.” He remarks and Richie shakes his head with a sardonic smile because he knows what this is about.

Peter had never expected you to leave him, you’d played the good wife for such a long time and then one day you’d had divorce papers delivered to his office. The final straw had been when he’d had lingerie sent to you. It was two sizes too small and had been addressed ‘To Emily’.

“This-” Richie says gesturing between the two of them. “-is not a competition. You treated her like dirt, like she was absolutely nothing.”

Peter laughs then and the sound grates across Richie’s nerves as he pushes past Richie, barging against his shoulder.

“Women like Joy, that’s how they like to be treated.”

Richie’s hand catches his arm, his hand squeezing so hard that Peter winces at the sensation as the fabric of his designer suit creases underneath Richie’s fingers.

“Play all the games you want motherfucker, but that woman is never coming back to you.” Richie tells him with a ferocity in his eyes. “You and I both know the better man won.”

Love Richie? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[screamingcrows]

🎲 (I WANT A KISS FROM DOTTORE SO MUCH)

A kiss from Dottore would fix me 🤝

You rolled 31! And oh ho ho anon, you lucked out. That's a kiss to the inner thigh.

This is suggestive, stressing that my normal rules apply; minors, ageless, blank blogs will be blocked

His figure was nothing but shadow amidst the darkness, nothing but a faint blue light identifying your beloved. It had been days since last you'd shared your bed, his weight oddly foreign as the mattress dipped beneath him.

How strange that a man branded heretic, associated with only ruin and sorrow by his roots, would bring such safety the divine could only ever hope to offer but a fraction of. If this was sin, then there was no better alter to lay upon than that of temptation.

With a slight frown, you realised he had stopped his descent, likely sitting with his head in his hands on the edge. You swatted at the air, sitting up to reach further before finally making contact with Dottore's chest. A small grumble left his lips, words incoherent yet their meaning restored by a hand clasping yours. A steady heartbeat hidden far beneath the exterior.

"I've missed you."

"You've seen me daily," he sounded exhausted, soft locks tickling the back of your hand, "some version at least."

"I've missed having you right here in bed," you leaned forward to kiss his cheek, missing by more than a little, and with none of the poise befitting someone in your position, pressing your face into his shoulder instead.

It managed to draw a gravelly chuckle from him, the sound delightfully unrestrained in a way that seemed unthinkable in any other setting. With slightly more elegance, your free hand found his cheek, the scruff comfortably human.

While lost in thought, he'd brought your hand to his lips, kissing every finger with care. As much as he rarely spoke of it, there was no doubt how much he craved the taste of your skin.

"As have I-"

He gently reached for your shoulders, guiding you to lay down, caged in by his frame hovering over you.

Another beat of silence passed in the darkness of your chambers, his hands trailing down your form and coaxing a soft groan from him upon tightening his hold.

"-though I would prefer to see you," his words were spoken against your stomach, warm breath fanning across your skin, anticipation quickly spreading like wildfire.

The hardness that already lay snuggled against your thigh was proof enough of his intentions, spurring you to take action and gently tug at his hair, relishing in making someone comparable to gods shiver. No, that wasn't it. Making him shiver.

With practised easy, his hands spread your thighs apart before securing them over his broad shoulders. No light was needed to know what he looked like between your legs, revering your form with his lips before sucking a bruise into the flesh.

It was delirious as he continued to alternate between kissing and gently sucking around the sensitive parts of your thighs, a man so starved of all that which you gladly offered that it was nothing short of miraculous you'd yet to be devoured.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Happy Pride month everyone B*) Allow me to reveal a little behind the scenes detail behind my Banner and Icon. Love was always winning <3

[starlooove]

Ppl will say fanon v canon doesn’t matter and it’s all jokes and I’m sooooo close to going sure sometimes and then I remember y’all removed a major role of one of the if not THEE most prominent black character in Bruce’s story who was created a whole decade before tim and gave it to tim based off a run where he literally handed the role back! Like IN THE COMIC Tim was CEO in name only and handed it back to Lucius relieved when he didn’t need to front anymore like.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[horsemage]

I think we should bring back basic etiquette lessons such as shutting the fuck up when you’re watching a movie in a group that is not exclusively your friend group 🙂

[anotherpapercut]

working with children really will make you examine your thought processes and emotional reactions like nothing else. I've found myself being so much more thoughtful in my daily life about how I respond to my emotions and environment, as well as the reasoning behind why others behave the way they do