#but also you would not want my comments if i felt obligated to give them

[folerdetdufoler]

Hi, I wrote my first evak fic in early 2023, before that I had been an avid reader for years. I know the fandom is a little quiet but there's this hardcore group of writers and readers that seem to have been around since the start and all know (of) each other. I don't know how to word this without sounding envious but it seems to me that group doesn't really read, comment on, give kudos or support new fics outside of their little circle. I want to believe it's a time issue but I have to say it comes across cliquey and a little hurtful. I really hope I am just being an insecure baby but I would be so happy if the established and popular writers would give me feedback and leave comments.

hiya! congratulations on writing and posting! i know it can be a big, scary jump from reading to writing and sharing, so applause for that in the first place.

i'm sorry your contributions to the fandom haven't been received the way you'd like them to be. if i'm included in this group of writers and readers, then, well my reasons for not reading/commenting/supporting are possibly going to be more hurtful than what you're already experiencing! i've whined about it years ago (first here, then here), and unfortunately it all still stands, because i have done absolutely zero work on bettering myself as a human being. i think i've read a handful of fics, mostly because they've been sent to me directly, with someone asking for my thoughts, and i managed to put in the effort to read it and offer a polite response. but there are also a bunch of fics that have been shared with me that i haven't read, even when i've said i would. i'm sorry if you have specifically done this with me in the past, because i have not treated your work, your creativity, with the respect it deserves.

i can't speak for anyone else, on how they choose to spend their time reading or writing, or the relationships they have with other fans. on the one active skam discord i'm in, i think a lot of them know each other from other fandoms, or have different relationships beyond writing/reading skam fic. also, as skam fades, people might only have the bandwidth for enjoying and supporting fanworks from established relationships, the same way you still want to support a favorite author even when you or they have changed genres or whatever.

but in reality i don't know the group where this is happening or why. i agree, it would be nice to receive more readers and commenters in general, and being jealous of the attention other people receive is natural. but i don't know how to change your relationship with that group, or my relationship with reading & supporting.

[shoyoist]

── 𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 : hinata shoyo.

content: fem!reader. public sεx in the back booth of a cafe. dirty thoughts, teasing, fingering, a little overstimulation, shoyo is a liiittle mean but he's just so eager to have you!! mentioned pussy eating at the end.

— . ｡˚ ♡ you just can't wait to have shoyo's fingers in you. and neither can he.

one of the first things you notice about hinata when you meet up with him after his years away in brazil, is that his hands are big.

he'd already been growing taller and filling out when he left — but that was nearly three years ago, and seeing him for the first time after so long felt like a dream — because despite looking the same, he also looked just that different. it wasn't just his hands, really — he was big. 

his neck was thicker, the expanse between his shoulder and neck offering much more space for your arms than it used to, as you wrapped them around his neck in a hug. his arms, his chest, his stomach, as they press against yours in the embrace, they feel bigger, more muscular than you remembered.

but what you notice the most, what would be a subtle change compared to everything else — is that his hands are so big. maybe because you hadn't seen his hands properly in any of the pictures he'd sent you, but it was the most surprising change about him.

his fingers that just used to be long and lithe, are now thicker — knuckles tough and edges calloused, the backs of them rosy and tanned and the palms hard and smooth, pink at the rounder points.

and as he holds your hands in his, gives you a smile that pours love and longing and happiness and tender adoration into you as he tells you, “hi, baby. i missed you.” — all you can think about is that you want your pussy stuffed with those fingers of his.

and eventually — because he is after all, your beloved shoyo that would do anything for you — you tell him.

hand in hand, walking the distance from your place to the café you used to frequent together, you tell him that his hands are so nice. 

his fingers are so thick (“look! see how big they are compared to mine?”) and then while you're talking to each other over cups of coffee, you finally tell him — albeit slyly and mostly as a tease, you admit that you want his fingers in your cunt.

what you don't expect is for him to immediately oblige.

you're sitting together at the very last booth of the small, cozy little cafe, away from all the windows and concealed from clear view — and you'd thought it'd be cute to fluster him with a dirty little comment, and get him hooked for when you both get home.

but when you tell him, “they'd feel so nice curling deep into my pussy, don't you think?” hinata stares at you for only a few seconds — before he has you pressed against the back of the booth, one legged hooked over his knees and the other dangling over the edge of the seat as he forces your legs open.

“mhm,” he giggles at your wide eyed, stunned expression, wrapping a muscled arm around you and adjusting your position so effortlessly, as his other hand slides past the waistband of your skirt to palm at your clothed cunt. “let's see how it feels, then. oh — pretty pussy's wet already, huh? missed me much?”

you're too dazed by the contact and the delicious feel of his touch on your clit to form words and tell him yes, yes yes you missed him so fucking much, more than he knows — but you think you missed him more than even you know.

his eyes are brighter than you remember as well, you see as you blink up to meet his gaze— 

his body language, his confidence, it's so different compared to how he was before.

you'd only gotten together in your third year of highschool, and really you'd only fucked once before he left for brazil — but you'd loved him long enough to know.

this isn't the same hinata that you kissed good-bye at that train station years ago.

correction: he is the same — but he's also more. 

you stare, stars in your eyes — and he gives you a handsome, rogueish grin as he slips two digits under your panties and into the slick mess of your hole, like he knows every single thing he's doing to you right now.

to your body, to your mind, to your soul.

it's overwhelming enough, to have the love of your life return home to you after more than two years of being so, so far away from you.

overwhelming enough to see that he has changed so very much, to see that suddenly the sunny, sweet boy you'd fallen in love with has become a fire, a hot searing flame that's ready to sweep you off your feet and singe you, burn you with his kisses and his touch.

but right now, you can't even think clearly about it all — because fuck, fuck, fuck, he's sliding his fingers into you, and it feels even better than you thought it would.

“sh—shoyo,” you whimper, cheek pressed to his chest as he shields your body with his, just in case. “wait, wait — didn't mean right now, i—”

“hush,” he hums into your ear, thumb gliding up to find your clit, and when he presses into the sensitive bud, you can only obey and hush — pressing your lips shut tight to prevent the gasp of pleasure that builds in your throat from getting away.

the café had been pretty quiet and peaceful when you'd both walked inside, and even as you ordered from the counter and brought your trays to the back booth — but suddenly, you're so afraid that people might come and see. afraid that a waiter might come over and see.

“sho—” you try, but he shushes you again, and you feel so hot, it's all so sudden you can't think.

“couldn't wait, sunshine, 'm sorry.” he mumbles into your hair, pulling you even closer, and you feel a little cramped as he tugs your legs even further apart, fingers sliding knuckle-deep into you. “was thinking things the whole time, you're so gorgeous now, can't wait when you're so hot.”

“i—” you whimper again, grabbing his shirt and curling it in your fist. “me too, shoyo, me too.” there's an impatience in the both of you that was hardly satiable when kept apart from eachother, but now, with the two of you like this, there's no way to keep it at bay.

the stretch of his fingers in your cunt is impossible. so much compared to your own fingers, so hot and hungry compared to the toys you use (ones he'd bought and sent home to you during his time in brazil).

he fucks his digits into you like he's been dying to do this to you, like he's desperate to hear those pretty sounds you make in his ear again, like he's been thirsting to make you cum like this forever.

you're going to hit your orgasm so quick, you can already feel it.

you're going to cum slumped in the back booth of this little café, that you'd visited so long ago on your first date with hinata. this little café where you'd first kissed him. this little café where you'd had a valentine's day brunch with him, just two months before he left.

“shoyo,” you can't help the moan that slips out, pussy only clenching around harder his digits when you see the way his eyes cloud with lust upon hearing your voice. “shoyo, shoyo — gonna cum.”

you hope nobody hears you — and you hope that if they did, they'll stay the fuck away and mind their own business, and let hinata take care of you.

you need it. he's so warm, so hot, and he's fucking you so good with just his fingers — thumb rolling your clit just fucking right while he curls his fingers into your velvet walls, giggling under his breath when your pussy squelches messily each time. 

“that's right, baby,” he coos, kissing your hair. “cum for me. nice and hard, mkay? else we might hafta try again.”

his voice cracks so well at just the right moment as he says it — and you don't know if it's the zap of need that courses through you at the sound of his voice breaking, or if it's just the bliss he's giving you with his fingers that makes you cum instantly, but you do.

your pussy wraps around his fingers so tight — your own hand flying up to clamp over your mouth and muffle your cry, as your body finally unfreezes and you crash into your high.

knees knocking together and squeezing hinata's arm between your legs, you fall lax against the leather seating of the booth — cushioned by his body because he still has his other arm secured around you — and you cum. “fuck, shoyo.”

“that's good,” hinata encourages, his whisper hot in the shell of your ear. “fuck, so messy. so messy, baby, how do we clean you up?”

you can't help it — and he's making it worse, curling his fingers in, knuckles digging into your walls as he tries to go even deeper, never relieving the pressure he's out on your clit, god— “shoyo, fuck, fuck.” you’re afraid you might shatter into a million pieces right there on the damn seat. you haven’t had someone else touch you in a long time, and getting an orgasm ripped from you like this is almost too much. “sho—shoyo, please.”

“please, what?” he giggles, still unrelenting, like he’s missed having you like this, like he really can’t be a good boy and wait until you get back home before he eats you up and makes you his girl all over again, for the first time in years.

“not here,” you say breathlessly, gulping down the cry of pleasure that springs up your throat when he lets go of your clit for a moment, only to flick his thumb at the ravenous bud again. “not here, please. i can’t—”

“can’t what?” he asks, almost impatient. he bites at your ear, and you feel so fucking hot, so dizzy with pleasure, but you can’t. not in the back booth of a god damn café, where you could just be caught with MSbY’s newest outside hitter fitting his fingers into your starving little cunt.

you grab his wrist and tug, giving him the most serious look you can with all the stars in your eyes. “can’t be like this, shoyo. not here. please? wanna go home. want you in me. at home.”

his lips pull downwards into a disappointed pout, but he only presses his body closer to you, hot and heavy, his weight so new on you. “you promise t’ let me fuck you like this in your bed then?”

the fact that he can make you blush harder with a few words even as he’s got your pussy full of his fingers is astounding, really. but you feel your face heat up as you nod, telling him you promise. you need it more than him. you need him so, so fucking bad.

with a delighted laugh, shoyo pulls away, almost too quickly and you’re forced to stifle the needy whine you want to let out because you know he’ll be on you again in no time if you act like that. he pops his fingers into his mouth, sucking on your slick, eyes dulling with lust as he gets a taste of you. “let’s go, then. we can have this date later.”

“wh—what about our food?” you can’t even ask before he’s getting up and pulling you to your feet. he gives you a quick kiss, and your eyes widen when you taste yourself on him. god, it’s almost embarrassing.

“i’ll pay for it now, we’ll tell them we’re coming back in a bit.” he grins at you, taking you by the waist and pulling you up against him. “i can think of something else i’d like to eat right now.”

by the glint in his eyes and the lingering taste in your mouth, you know exactly what he means the instant he says it. and you can’t help but blush again. god, he’s such a fucking charmer. “mm, alright. let’s go then.”

“that’s my girl.”

[sansaorgana]

— LADY OF THE ROSES (III)

PART ONE || PART TWO || PART FOUR

PAIRING — Ser Gwayne Hightower x fem!Reader // Tyrell!OC

SUMMARY — Six moons of marriage have passed and an unexpected visit of Lord Jason Lannister causes Ser Gwayne and the new Lady Hightower to have their very first disagreement. Not long after, she gets pregnant with their first child.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — It’s written as an usual x Reader fic without describing anything about the Reader’s looks but I still classified it as an OC as well since she is a Tyrell. + You don’t have to know the previous chapters to understand this one. I wanted to include Gwayne and Reader having their first child in the previous part already but it was too long and the time skip would be too big so I decided to turn it into yet another chapter of the story. Since the pregnancy and birth would be quite boring, I added some drama with Lord Jason aka Reader's previous suitor from the first chapter (but the details are not required to be known if you haven't read the first part!). There will be one more part to this story for which I am very excited! 😊 Thank you for all the nice comments. 💚

WARNINGS — Lord Jason being himself, pregnancy, birth

WORD COUNT — 6,130

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

LADY OF THE ROSES (III)

First six moons of your marriage had passed by quickly and peacefully. You couldn’t believe it was half a year already and you were very pleased with how everything you had been so scared about turned out to be not so bad – performing marital duties was nothing but pleasure and fun, meanwhile running Oldtown could be exhausting sometimes but you still enjoyed it most of the time and you proudly held your head high while helping your husband with all his obligations around the city and the castle.

Having your own property with your own servants to order around was a good feeling, too. Not that you wanted to abuse the power that had been given to you but it was simply nice not to be someone’s daughter but your own Lady. Well, your husband’s – but he had never made you feel like that. Ser Gwayne Hightower was a chivalrous knight who was treating his duties and honour very seriously. He knew that being a husband did not only mean getting but it also meant giving. He was your protector and a shoulder to cry on, a strong hand to hold you and lead you and fight for you. You trusted him with your life and you would never doubt his loyalty to you.

Sometimes you wondered why had gods blessed you with such a good husband as you doubted if you had deserved him. Not that you were a bad person but you had your flaws – your pride, your stubbornness. Yet, you had not fought even once yet with your Lord Husband.

Well, once, nearly. Gwayne had suggested that perhaps you should start wearing more modest clothing because The Highgarden fashion was a bit too revealing for Oldtown. You had scoffed at that and he had not brought that up ever again.

You knew that The Highgarden fashion was considered too exposing for lots of regions of Westeros. Only Dornish women liked even riskier gowns but Oldtown was a part of The Reach so its people were not shocked to see a Tyrell Lady in a revealing dress. You had a feeling it was your Lord Husband’s personal preference because his own sister was known as a woman of strong faith and modesty like her mother before her.

Despite being Lady Hightower now, you still felt a very strong bond with The Tyrells. You always wore a golden ring with a rose on it and you loved all sorts of ornaments and decorations in the shapes of roses. You were corresponding with your Lady Mother and sisters every week and sometimes you were still signing the letters as Lady (Y/N) Tyrell – out of habit that was visibly saddening your husband whenever he’d catch you doing that.

Just like right now as you were sitting by your desk and Gwayne was handing out letters for you to sign them. Those were some official matters that he was supposed to send out to his vassals but ever since he was married and Oldtown had a Lady, he insisted on you both signing them even though it was not a popular custom for husbands to insist on such things.

You didn’t even read those letters since you trusted him as you mindlessly kept signing a letter after a letter. You gave him back the last one and he sighed, which made you look up and raise an eyebrow at him.

“What is it?” You asked.

“Lady (Y/N) Tyrell,” he read out loud and you felt bad at the sight of his sad expression.

“I am sorry,” you reached out to squeeze his wrist. “I was not focused enough,” you admitted.

“I shall rewrite this one,” Gwayne waved the letter in the air.

“No, I shall do it,” you took it from him gently. “Or will it be seen as something inappropriate when they realise it was the wife’s handwriting?”

“No, it won’t be,” Gwayne smiled at you and allowed you to take the letter. “Can I stay here and watch you work?”

“What kind of husband asks such a thing?” You chuckled at him. “Of course, my love,” you leaned into his hand as he caressed your cheek and you placed a soft kiss upon his fingers.

Gwayne sat in the armchair by the window inside your chambers. You would spend some of your days here but all nights so far you had slept with him. However, the chambers he had prepared for you were so beautiful that it would be a waste to never spend your time inside them.

You rewrote the letter and handed it for him to sign and then you could start working on answering the letters that were addressed to you specifically. Gwayne kept sitting in the armchair and looking at you, occasionally staring out of the window. It was peaceful and quiet and you wished that moment could last forever.

The next envelope on the pile of letters made you furrow your brows. It was red and the golden wax seal had The Lannister lion on it. You checked twice if it was really addressed to you and not to your Lord Husband but no, it was very clearly addressed to “Lady (Y/N) Hightower of Oldtown”.

“Weird,” you hummed to yourself when you opened the envelope with a small dagger, without breaking the seal.

“What is it, my darling?” Gwayne turned his head around to look at you since he had been gazing out of the window and staring at the water.

“It is from Lord Jason Lannister and it is addressed to me instead of you,” you told him. It felt quite inappropriate so you wanted your husband to know for you would never hide anything of such a matter from him.

Perhaps you would not be so suspicious about it if you didn’t have a history with Lord Jason. He had been one of your suitors and your father’s favourite. In fact, he had been plotting with your father behind everybody’s back to win the tournament for your hand and he had been playing dirty by using his knight brother to pretend to be him.

“And what does he want?” Gwayne crossed his arms.

“Well, allow me to read the letter first,” you rolled your eyes playfully as you began reading.

Gwayne was trying to be very patient but from the corner of your eye you could see that he was tapping his arms with his fingers and you found it pretty amusing so you read the letter three times before putting it down and taking a deep breath in as you laid your eyes on your husband.

“He wishes to visit us. He claims he was around for his friend’s wedding and he wishes to stay at The Hightower for the night on his way back home,” you explained.

“What friend, I’m wondering?” Gwayne snorted. “Oldtown is never on anyone’s way. It is usually a destination, not a stop.”

“He says his friend is Lord Bulwer, they are our vassals from Blackcrown. He must reach Oldtown to get on the Rose Road. It is a faster way to get back to Casterly Rock than to travel alongside the shore,” you explained because, sadly, Lord Jannister’s excuse sounded very realistic. “Well?” You asked Gwayne. “We must give him an answer.”

“We are not in a state of war with The Lannisters, are we? We shall let him stay for the night,” your husband sighed and stood up to read the letter himself as if he wanted to make sure there was nothing inappropriate in it.

In the meantime, you began working on a reply letter to Lord Jason Lannister. Your husband kept standing behind you and examining every word you were writing down. He had never done that before, even when you had been writing letters of much bigger importance.

“I don’t mind you being in the same room as me while I work but this is a little uncomfortable, my love,” you tried to make him realise calmly when you were about to sign the letter.

“Do not forget your surname this time,” Gwayne reminded you and you furrowed your brows at the tone of his voice. It was not rude but certainly harsher than usual.

“Lady (Y/N) Hightower,” you signed silently, “of House Tyrell,” you added, just to spite Gwayne and you didn’t have to look up to know that he rolled his eyes. However, he did not say anything.

Lord Jason was supposed to come three days later in the evening, right in time for the supper. You wore a green dress for that occasion but you had a rose-shaped jewellery that your husband usually did not mind but on that day he seemed to be bothered by it.

“This jewellery is beautiful, dear wife, but are you sure it goes well with the dress?” He asked during breakfast as you froze.

“Since when are you an expert?” You turned your head around with widened eyes. Well, Gwayne knew quite a lot about fashion but his comment had irritated you.

“Since I am a married man,” he cracked a nervous smile at you.

“Yellow roses always go well with green for those are the Tyrell symbols,” you reminded him with a forced, ironic smile.

“Is this how you wish to greet Lord Jason in Oldtown? As Lady Tyrell?” Gwayne raised an eyebrow at you.

“I have been walking around this city in this very dress and jewellery many times before and you have never said anything!” You protested and Gwayne blushed a bit because he had no idea what else to say.

You went back to eating because you didn’t want to torment him more by pointing out the flaws of his argumentation, however he did not choose silence at all.

“The dress is also quite low-cut,” he mumbled.

“Yes, it is, my beloved Lord, and what about it?” You clenched your fist around the fork you were holding.

“I suspect not many Lord Husbands would want their wives to greet their previous suitors in such a dress,” he commented.

“I have never treated Lord Jason as my suitor,” you scoffed. “And what is wrong with the dress?”

“Nothing,” Gwayne quickly fixed himself. “Nothing is wrong with the dress, my beautiful Lady,” he assured you and went back to eating.

“Are you perhaps jealous of Lord Jason? Do you wish to impress him or show me off as your property?” You asked after the sudden realisation as you laid your eyes on him again.

“Property? No. My wife,” Gwayne clenched his jaw as he explained. “I want to show you off as my Lady Wife.”

“My darling,” you smiled and shook your head as your anger subdued. You leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I would have chosen you as my champion during that tournament even if you were a beggar knight from a peasant family. I would love you even if you were a miller, a carpenter, a fisherman. And no amount of Lannister gold would convince me to go with Lord Jason anywhere,” you assured your husband and fixed his hair gently. “I want to show you off as my Lord Husband in front of him just as much.”

That seemed to calm Gwayne down for now as he nodded with a small smile and even stole a little kiss from your lips. You were alone by the table and the few servants walking around would not scold you for that anyway.

The sun was slowly setting down when you were standing by Gwayne’s side in the courtyard of The Hightower and awaiting Lord Jason Lannister. Your arms were brushing and you kept looking at each other once in a while as if you were giving each other courage. Not that you needed it but Lord Jason was rather insufferable and you knew that losing temper around him would not be good for your relations with The Lannisters. The relations were pretty fragile already anyway.

Finally, you heard the horses and saw a big, elegant carriage with the Lannister lion ornamented on its doors.

“I thought he would travel on a horseback,” Gwayne mumbled.

“Well, he is not a knight. He is used to certain comfort,” you whispered and wore a fake smile that very moment when one of your servants opened the door of the carriage and you saw Lord Jason walking out.

He looked around as if he could not see you nor your husband at first. Then, he faked a smile as well and approached you.

“Lord and Lady Hightower,” he looked you up and down and kissed the palm of your hand when you bowed your head down.

“Lord Lannister,” you greeted him.

“Ser Gwayne,” he nodded at your husband.

“Lord Jason,” Gwayne nodded back. “You must be tired after the journey. Come, the supper is ready and your chambers have been prepared.”

“Thank you. I have never been to The Hightower, I must admit,” Lord Jason followed you inside. He kept looking around like a curious cat.

“How did you get to Blackcrown, my Lord?” You asked him curiously since you and Gwayne had been wondering about it earlier – why was he asking you for a room to stay on his way back only.

“I went there by a ship, Lady Hightower, but the ship was the wedding gift for my friend,” Lord Jason answered and you nodded.

“Your wedding gifts are very generous, my Lord,” Gwayne pointed out.

“Well, I can afford such,” Lord Jason grinned at him as you reached the dining hall. “You must forgive me for not sending one to you, Ser, but in my position of a failed suitor, it would have been pretty humiliating,” he explained and you pretended to understand his point of view.

And it was not like you cared about any gifts from him anyway.

“Please, let us not dwell on the past,” you showed Lord Jason an empty chair by your husband’s side and he took it after you and Gwayne had sat down as well.

“I am not meaning to, my Lady,” Lord Jason informed you proudly. “I am a married man myself now.”

“Oh, are you? Congratulations, my Lord,” you smiled at him even though he had never congratulated you on your union. “To whom?”

“Lady Johanna of House Westerling,” Lord Jason answered and you hummed to yourself.

“Well, she is a lucky Lady,” you tried to be kind.

“Thank you, that is very flattering, Lady Tyrell,” Lord Jason bowed his head and Gwayne shot him a deadly glance. “Oh, do forgive me, Lady Hightower. The colours you are wearing have misled me,” he explained with a grin and you faked a smile but you began to feel guilty for not listening to your husband earlier.

“Green is the colour of House Hightower,” your husband reminded Lord Jason.

“Indeed but the roses…”

“My wife is not forbidden from wearing the emblems of her father’s house,” Gwayne interrupted Lord Jason and it was rude enough to make all of you sit in silence for a moment after that.

“Lord Jason,” you started quickly to change the subject, “why isn’t your Lady Wife with you?”

“It was not recommended in her fragile state. Lady Lannister is expecting,” Lord Jason straightened himself and you could see pride and smugness about him.

“Congratulations, my Lord,” you nodded at him.

“Aren’t you afraid of leaving your pregnant Lady Wife alone for so long when it is no matter of life and death keeping you apart from her, my Lord?” Gwayne asked and you clenched your jaw before kicking him slightly under the table.

“Ser Gwayne, there is nothing in this world women do better than give birth. She does not need my assistance,” Lord Jason found it quite funny, though, as he laughed but he was the only one doing so. “Speaking of, I’ve expected to see Lady Hightower being swollen already. How long has it been now since the wedding? Six moons?”

You froze at his question. It was incredibly rude to be up in other people’s business like that.

You had been discussing the matter of children with Gwayne in the very beginning of your marriage and you both had decided you wanted some time for yourselves before having children and to enjoy each other’s company first. You were regularly drinking teas prepared by The Hightower’s maester to prevent you from getting pregnant and so far it had been working. But if it had failed, you wouldn’t be sad about it either, for you couldn’t wait to have your babes soon anyway.

You exchanged a meaningful look with your husband, not knowing what to say. If you told Lord Jason the truth – that you wanted to wait and enjoy each other’s company – he would only scoff at that and find it hilarious.

“And who has told you that I am not swelling, my Lord?” You answered swiftly before Gwayne opened his mouth.

Lord Jason looked you up and down before humming to himself.

“Well, congratulations, Ser,” he patted Gwayne on his back.

“Thank you,” Gwayne gritted through his teeth and gave you a scolding look. “It is still very early news, though,” he added.

“May the Gods bless Lady Hightower and her offspring,” Lord Jason nodded at you and it somehow felt very sincere.

“Thank you, Lord Jason,” you gave him the very first genuine smile that evening.

The rest of the supper went pretty boringly and you said goodnight to Lord Lannister before the servants took him to his chambers. You and Gwayne went upstairs in awkward silence.

On your way to your husband’s room, you passed the door to your chambers. They were a floor below Gwayne’s chambers that were located at the highest level of The Hightower.

“I shall join you later,” you only mumbled out and he nodded, watching you disappear inside your room.

Your maids were already waiting there to help you into your nighttime attire. You kept sighing and they were exchanging looks.

“How was it, my Lady?” One of them asked. She knew your backstory with Lord Jason because she was one of the girls you had taken with you from The Highgarden.

“Lord Jason is insufferable as always and even though he is married now himself, he finds great enjoyment in tormenting my Lord Husband,” you told her.

“Well, my Lady, I doubt Ser Gwayne is angry at you,” her eyes widened.

“I do not know anymore. I have worn a dress he did not approve of and it indeed caused trouble. I have also said something… Something I should have not said and I have said it to defend his honour but he might not see it this way,” you confessed.

“Ser Gwayne is a very understanding Lord Husband,” the girl assured you and smiled while she brushed your hair.

You kept looking at yourself in the mirror’s reflection but you weren’t sure of her words. That supper had gone worse in the beginning than you had even imagined.

You thanked your maids and they left you alone but you kept sitting in the armchair and staring at yourself and at the candles slowly burning out instead of moving up and joining your husband as you had promised.

For the first time during your marriage, you simply blew out the candles and went inside your own bed. It even felt weird to lay there since you were not used to it but it just felt like the right thing to do on that night.

You couldn’t fall asleep though. And after a while of tossing and turning, you heard the doors open as the wooden floor squeaked under someone’s feet.

“Who is it?” You sat up immediately.

“And who do you think, my Lady?” A familiar voice made you sigh out of relief.

You reached your hand out in the darkness and Gwayne grabbed it as you led him into your bed.

“Why didn’t you bring a candle with you?” You asked.

“I felt a little adventurous,” he chuckled. “And I know my way to you by heart, my beloved Lady,” he added. “Why haven’t you joined me?”

“I thought you didn’t want me to, my Lord,” you admitted when he laid next to you under the cover. You cuddled him immediately by curling up next to him and putting your arm around his waist. “I thought you were cross with me.”

“I am not cross. I simply do not understand why you lied,” he confessed and kissed the top of your head.

“Is it the lie that you’re upset about?” You furrowed your brow. “I do value your honour but…”

“Not the lie itself,” Gwayne interrupted you. “Why didn’t you allow me to inform Lord Jason that we do not wish for children yet?”

“Because he would not understand and find you weak or assume you are unable to produce an heir and it is nothing but an excuse. I wanted to spare you further embarrassments,” you explained. “And… I am sorry for the dress…” You added, looking down.

“Do not be. I am sorry for insisting,” Gwayne rubbed your back. “And thank you for wanting to spare me embarrassments but now we are facing quite a challenge, aren’t we, my love?”

“What do you mean, my Lord?” You looked up, finding his blue eyes in the darkness of your chambers.

“I mean that Lord Jason now believes that you are expecting, my darling,” Gwayne smirked a little and you furrowed your brows.

“Oh no,” you gasped, faking the dramatic aspect of it. “And what shall we do about it now?” You wondered theatrically.

“Well, I have quite a few ideas,” Gwayne leaned in to join your lips together in a kiss as his hands pulled you even closer by your waist.

“Are you sure?” You breathed out between one hasty kiss and another.

“Only if you are,” he assured you.

“I am,” you nodded. “I am, I am, I am…” You kept repeating, suddenly realising how eager you indeed were to have your own little babe before you allowed your husband’s lips to devour yours with yet another passionate kiss.

Thankfully, Lord Jason was supposed to leave Oldtown after breakfast. You greeted him in the morning in another green dress and even though this one was pretty low-cut, too, you decided not to wear any roses on that day. Instead, you wore a necklace with The Hightower that had once belonged to Gwayne’s late Lady Mother.

Lord Jason kept staring at your chest and the necklace until it became a little uncomfortable and he cleared his throat before looking up to meet your cold gaze that you were gracing him with.

“I must admit I have not expected The Hightower to be that grand. It really is as tall as they say,” he bowed his head at you.

“We Light The Way, Lord Lannister,” you reminded him with a forced smile.

“Of course, Casterly Rock remains taller,” he added and you put the cutlery down, irritated. Gwayne gave you a look to remind you to stay polite.

“My Lord, why the remark? Is it a contest?” You asked him, trying not to sound too angry. “It is not the size of the castle that proves manhood. I do believe that you have already shown yours during the tournament for my hand in marriage,” you reminded him of his shameful behaviour and cheating. “The tournament which my husband has won fairly and justly,” you added.

Lord Jason did not say anything. He looked down and went back to eating while his cheeks' colour started to resemble The Lannister emblem.

You squeezed Gwayne’s hand under the table and the rest of the breakfast went pretty smoothly. You went outside to the courtyard to watch Lord Jason ride away. His farewell was pretty short and official. He was not trying to make any jokes anymore.

“My darling, you have acted as if you were a knight and I was a lady in distress,” Gwayne chuckled at you once you were finally free of Lord Lannister.

“Sometimes you are, my Gwayne,” you smiled at him sweetly and leaned in to steal a kiss from his cheek.

“Shall I get you a sword, my sweet?” He teased you and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Perhaps another time, Lord Husband,” you chuckled at that.

Two moons later you were watching Gwayne training with his sword as he was teaching a young squire on the courtyard. The day was quite hot but you had nothing else to do and you loved to watch him train anyway so you were sitting on a wooden bench, trying to remain in the shadow but you felt awful nevertheless. The sun felt too warm, the corset seemed to be too tight no matter how many times you had asked your maids to loosen it and you were hungry but too nauseous to eat. You blamed your condition on the weather and your upcoming monthly bleeding, which was late already but the soreness of your breasts could only mean that it would come very soon.

Gwayne kept looking at you from the corner of his eye with a worried expression because he could see that something was not right – you looked exhausted and your skin was a shade paler than normally. There were bags under your eyes and your voice sounded weak whenever you cheered for him or his squire.

He knew he was most likely overreacting but he was panicking deep inside that you could be seriously ill like his mother had been. The beginnings of each illness looked the same and losing you so fast after marrying you would surely kill him, too.

You were too exhausted to even notice the worried look on his face. You raised your head to shield your face from the sun and you felt a sudden dizziness that made you flutter your eyelids as your head grew heavy before losing consciousness for a short while.

When you opened your eyes again, the very first thing you saw was Gwayne’s furrowed brows and blue eyes filled with worry and fear. His cheeks were so pale that his freckles were more visible than ever and the strands of his auburn hair were tickling your face. His squire was standing behind him with widened eyes.

“Wh-what happened?” You asked and looked around while your vision was slowly coming back.

“You have fainted, my love,” Gwayne swallowed thickly.

“It must be due to the heat,” you tried to explain.

“Mayhaps. But I shall not underestimate your condition,” he picked you up the bridal style, carefully.

“What are you doing, my Lord?” You chuckled weakly at him.

“I am taking you to the maester,” your husband answered with all seriousness.

You didn’t protest because you knew he was worried and to be honest so were you. You only hoped that the maester would confirm that it was nothing serious.

Gwayne’s squire opened the door leading to maester’s chambers in front of you both and The Hightower’s maester stood up to bow his head. He had been sitting by his desk and working on something before you came inside.

“My Lord, My Lady,” he greeted you. “Is everything alright?”

“No, maester. My Lady Wife has fainted,” Gwayne laid you down gently on a bed.

“It is because of the heat!” You protested.

“Mayhaps,” the maester hummed to himself and approached you to examine you with his hands as Gwayne stood above him and watched worryingly. “Have you slept well, my Lady?”

“Oh, I can’t sleep for about two weeks now,” you admitted and yawned a little at the mention.

“I understand. What have you had for breakfast, my Lady?” The maester furrowed his brows.

“I was too nauseous to eat,” you confessed.

“May I ask you when was your last bleeding?” The maester raised an eyebrow.

“It should come any day now for it was more than a moon ago… I am sure it is going to come, though. My breasts are sore,” you lowered your voice a little, feeling uncomfortable with the way he was looking at you and Gwayne’s presence hovering above the both of you.

“May I?” The maester lifted his hands and you opened your mouth to answer but you noticed that he was looking at your husband and not at you.

“I mean, if you must…” Gwayne cleared his throat. “And if the Lady agrees,” he added and only then the maester laid his eyes on you.

“Go on,” you nodded and your heart skipped a beat when he grabbed your breasts gently through the fabric of the dress and squeezed them carefully. You hissed at the feeling.

The maester hummed to himself and moved his hands away before looking up at Gwayne again. Your husband shook his head out of anticipation.

“And?!” He asked.

“Lady Hightower is expecting. Congratulations, my Lord,” the maester informed and you opened your mouth slightly at that revelation.

“I… I am with child?” You inquired and sat up, feeling the sudden outburst of energy.

“I am quite certain of it. Too many symptoms confirming,” the maester nodded. “And when was it that my Lady stopped drinking the tea? Two moons ago, right?”

“That is quite right,” Gwayne answered and took you by your hand. He squeezed your fingers gently and sat on the edge of your bed. He placed a gentle kiss upon the palm of your hand and looked deep into your eyes with such a loving expression that you felt butterflies all over your body even though you had been married for more than half a year now.

The maester walked away and sat back by his desk to give you some space but you completely forgot about his presence anyway for all that mattered was your husband and his child you were apparently carrying under your heart.

“Oh, Gwayne…” You stuttered out as your eyes filled with happy tears. “So it is happening… And to think we have Lord Jason Lannister to thank…”

“My Lady!” Gwayne frowned and chuckled. “Do not say such things. Some people might get ideas…”

“That is true, I guess,” you laughed at his comment. “Are you still certain that you will not mind a daughter if it is a girl?”

“All I care for is your safety. And the child’s. In that exact order,” he answered and you gave him a faint smile.

“Whether they’re a boy or a girl, I just wish for them to be like their father,” you squeezed Gwayne’s hand lovingly. “That is my greatest wish.”

A slight blush covered his cheeks and you smiled at his reaction. It was quite easy to make him flustered with such compliments for he had not been getting many in his childhood. He had been left alone at eight years old, raised by all the septas and maesters of The Hightower alongside older knights teaching him the craft and chivalry. His life had been quite a lonely one but it no longer would be for you would fill the corridors and courtyards with tiny little Hightowers running around.

Your screams could be heard on every floor of The Hightower – a monument taller than The Wall itself – at least that was what your husband had claimed with a chuckle when you nearly crushed his hand while squeezing it tightly. You gave him a deadly look and he lovingly wiped your sweaty face, pushing away all the hair strands that got stuck to your forehead.

You knew that Gwayne was trying to distract you with his jokes here and there but overall he was very worried – perhaps even more than you were since your pain was too overwhelming to focus on anything else. The septas were busy around you, wiping your sweat away, helping you to drink water and telling you when to push as they monitored the birthing process.

You had not expected your Lord Husband to actually be there for you but he had not disappointed you. You had been conflicted at first for you had been told once that wives should not allow their husbands inside during labour. But you were too scared to go through this alone and the pain was much greater than what you had imagined as well. Gwayne’s presence was bringing you great comfort even if sometimes he was annoying you.

The birth had started after breakfast and the sun was slowly going down already but the septas were assuring you that it would not take long from now on. Gwayne had not left your side even for a moment throughout the whole day.

“I did not mean to upset you, my love,” he explained, caressing your hand as if it was the most delicate thing in the world and not a deadly machine that had nearly crushed his hand on several occasions that day. “You are the bravest woman in the Realm to me. In all the Realms of this world, in fact,” he assured you and you just couldn’t be angry at him any longer.

You smiled and wished to tell him something equally sweet when a sharp pain distracted you and you turned your head around while wincing and squeezing your husband’s hand tightly again.

“I can see the head!” One of the septas screamed. “Go, fetch the maester!” She ordered the young girl who was only getting her training but seeing her pale face and terrified expression, you wondered if she regretted her decision to become a septa.

On the other hand, as a septa she would never have to go through what you were going through at the moment.

The girl ran out of the room and you kept taking deep breaths in and pushing like the eldest septa was instructing you. Gwayne kept holding your hand throughout that but seeing his face, he needed the breathing instructions as well.

The maester entered the chambers in a hurry with the scared young septa after him and in that very moment the child’s screams and crying filled the room. The sound was so loud and determined that you immediately knew that there was nothing to worry about for only a healthy and strong child could make such a fuss.

The maester hurried to the newborn baby and Gwayne was trying to see as much as possible through all the septas swarming up around you to clean you up a little and wipe your face from all the sweat.

“It is a boy,” the maester informed and you couldn’t help but sigh with relief.

You knew your Lord Husband could not care less about it but you did care – you loved him and you wanted to give him an heir.

“Is he alright?” Gwayne asked with a raspy voice.

“See for yourself, my Lord. He is a perfectly healthy babe,” the maester approached you two and handed Gwayne his firstborn son. He showed your husband how to hold the little head up and you watched with a loving smile the little bundle of joy staining your husband’s clothes with blood as he was screaming his lungs out.

“He is beautiful,” Gwayne mumbled and moved closer to you as you reached out your weak hands to hold your own babe as well. He placed him gently on your chest but his eyes were fixated on the boy. “Thank you for him, my love.”

“I thank you, my Lord,” you answered but you did not look up at him either since you kept staring at the screaming child. But when he felt your skin and your heartbeat, he stopped crying immediately and just kept staring at you with huge eyes. You chuckled at that and cried happy tears. “How do you want to name him?”

“Lord Edmund Hightower?” Gwayne suggested. It was no surprise to you that he did not propose his father’s name and you liked the sound of Edmund Hightower, so you nodded. You could not care less about the name, you were just glad to have a son and you thought it was only fair for the father to choose his heir’s name anyway.

“I like the sound of that,” you assured your husband as you looked up to meet his gaze.

“So do I,” Gwayne nodded. “And the sight, my Lady,” he added and you felt your cheeks heating up.

Only Gwayne knew how to make you flustered still, after over a year of marriage and right after giving birth to a child, dirty with blood and sweat but to him you were nothing but a victorious warrior that had just survived a battlefield and he admired you now more than ever before.

MASTERLIST

[mangoposts]

Fuck me like you mad at me baby

C.S 🔞

The apartment was silent with only the sounds of Chris and I’s phones echoing around the living room. Him on tiktok and me on instagram reels,

“Chris, lower your volume i can’t hear my own video.” I say this despite putting myself to sit directly next to him, leaning my head on his stomach while we lay on the couch.

“Lower your attitude.” He complies anyway, lowering the volume. I chuckle at his comment before putting my phone down, deciding i want to bother him further. I grab his phone from his hands and put it next to mine, watching as he flutters his eyes shut and lays his head back against the couch in annoyance. “Y/n,” he mumbles into the air and sticks his hand out, “Give it.” I grin while thinking about how easy it is to tick him off, and then get an idea to see how far I could take it with him. “No.” I laugh, holding both his and I’s phones in my hand behind my back pressed against the couch. “Y/n, please.” He repeats, his voice is laced with irritation as it usually is when I mess with him like this, but the late hour of the night also took affect in how bothersome this felt to him, he was cranky. But I’m bored and all he and I had done today was lay here on our phones.

“Oh, are you gonna beg me for it?” He opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling and then looks down at me, not one hint of amusement behind his eyes the way they were mine. The colour and feeling of them cold as ice while they bore through me as if to say “‘Don’t fuck with me’ . But, I wanted to. Truth be told, Chris is hot all the time regardless of what he does or what he’s wearing, but he was the hottest when he was completely, utterly pissed off with me. When he was mad at me. Nothing more, nothing less. I act unfazed by his death stare and lean my head up from my position on his stomach to straddle his lap and his hands are still by his sides while I reposition, telling me he’s unamused.

I pick up our phones and place them on the coffee table behind me to ensure he won’t try to grab it and then redirect his attention to it again. I then lean in by his ear while placing my hands on his chest,

“Come on, pussy. Beg me.” I bite down on his earlobe taking notice of how goosebumps appear on his skin, and he exhales a deep breath through his nose before i feel his hands on my hips then he returns my actions and places his lips by the skin of my ear.

“I would watch how you speak, smart ass.” In one swift motion, he grips my hips harder and flips us over. My head laying against the cushions and his thighs pinning my lower body down. He grabs both of my wrists into one hand and pins them above my head harshly, restraining me with nothing other than his own strength while his other hand grips my jaw tightly, forcing my lips to gape open. He lowers his head so his face is inches part from mine, my head begins to spin and i feel my teasing act begin to fade the longer he stares into my eyes with not a single sign of dismay, his gaze is cold and taunting and it’s directly in front of me. making me feel small under it while I gulp slightly, still trying not to show signs of my faltering ego. His grip on my jaw or wrists however hadn’t faltered in the slightest, if anything his grip hardened.

“If you make me repeat myself so help me y/n i’ll edge you for months. Open your fucking mouth.”

My breath hitches as lust fills my senses, i feel the wave of heat roll over into my body the moment he stops speaking. I nod quickly and oblige, opening my mouth and sticking my tongue out. Flinching a bit when i feel how roughly he’d spit into my mouth. His hand on my jaw moves to my cheeks and squishes them together, forcing my mouth to close as I swallow his saliva and stare up at him, the smug look on my face is long forgotten.

“Look at how pathetic you are. Asking me to beg for you and now you’re under me, looking as lost and fucked out as a dog before i’ve even thought about touching you.” I let out a slight whimper at his words, proving him right with everything he’d said and for the first time tonight, he looks amused as ever. a smirk making its way onto his face before he lowers his hand to wrap it around my neck, squeezing hard. I gasp slightly and furrow my eyebrows while I look up at him again, the air in my lungs being knocked out almost instantly the moment his hand met my throat. I feel myself get wetter and wetter the longer he has me in this position, pinned down by my arms and neck under him, at his mercy. My head begins to spin and my pussy aches, practically dying to be filled by his dick.

“Are you gonna be a smart mouth?” His voice, his voice is deep and condescending, filling my brain with the dirtiest thoughts about him. I want him inside me so badly, i’m willing to do anything to get him to hurry up. I shake my head no, biting my bottom lip as i stare at his. He grins, noticing.

“Gonna be my good little bitch right?” I nod my head before answering with words, knowing that’s what he wants. “Y-yes daddy. Gonna do anything you want.” I feel lightheaded now, with need and with the small amount of oxygen making its way towards my brain. “That’s a good baby.” He releases his grip from my throat and gives me no time to recover before he’s removing my sweatpants and tossing them behind him on the couch then flipping me around again by my waist. He presses down on my head, shoving my face into the cushions while he lifts my hips up and pushes my panties to the side. His fingers practically slipping around my pussy from how wet he’d made me. I moan from the feeling of his fingers in between my folds and try to grind myself down onto his hand, earning a harsh slap to my backside that makes me whine. Chris removes his own sweatpants and drops his briefs to his ankles when he steps off to stand by the couch. Positioning me to arch further off the edge. I feel his wet tip rub against my hot folds teasingly, causing me to let out a cry. He continues rubbing himself against my clit, occasionally slipping his tip inside of me just to pull it out a second later. My chest heaves and I feel my eyes begin to water from how desperate I am, the ache between my legs at an all time high from the amount of teasing. “Chris. Fuck me.” I’m whining like a baby at this point and i couldn’t care less about it, he’d officially drove me up the wall and all I needed now was to feel his thick cock filling me up, feeling every vein pumping in and out of me. “Are you gonna beg me?” He mocks, a groan leaves my lips before i start to lose my mind, I was willing to do anything, anything for his cock.

“Please Chris I need you so badly daddy. I need to feel you. Please.” I gasp when he pushes his dick inside of me, bottoming out completely. My eyes roll to my back of my head and my mouth flung open at the delicious feeling of the stretch. Until I notice he isn’t moving at all. I clench around his dick repeatedly and wiggle my hips to get more friction, my whole body is on fire and I’m about to start screaming when I realize he isn’t satisfied with my words, officially broken before he’s even fucked me, I lost all of my dignity just for him to start fucking me.

“Please, please, please, please Christopher. Please! God I need you so badly, i’ll never mess with you again just pl-“ I’m cut off by my own moan when he pulls all the way out and slams his cock back into me at a steady hard pace. His hands spreading my thighs further and pressing down on my back, causing me to arch my ass up as high as possible while my couch muffles my screams of pleasure. I hear as he lets out rough grunts that match up with his thrusts, his arms reach to grab my hands that are clawing at the cushions beneath me, once again holding both of my wrists behind my back to fuck into me rougher.

My stomach is turning with pleasure and i feel myself get dizzy for the 4th time since we’ve started, my body beginning to shake from the quick building feeling of an orgasm, it’s embarrassing how quickly he’s able to make me release. but with all of the tension and teasing building up to this moment i’ve felt on the edge since the moment we started. “C-Chris. i’m-i’m gonna cum.” I try to speak as loudly as i can from how hard he’s fucking me and my face being pressed down. Hoping he’ll hear me clearly and spare me after doing his fair share of teasing for the night, he doesn’t.

“Nah, beg me. I want to hear you beg for it.” He hits my g-spot repeatedly after he speaks, the tip of his dick so deep inside of me i could feel it moving in my lower stomach. My words die on my tongue as my eyes flutter closed, I so badly want to give him what he wants but I feel frozen with pleasure, my brain completely numb and my chest beginning to burn from how hard i’m breathing.

Chris sucks on his teeth from behind me before reaching down and wrapping his hand around my hair sprawled against my back, pulling on it so harshly to pull me up towards his chest. My head falls against his shoulder and he picks up the pace of his cock inside of me from this position.

“Chris, I- Please.” I try to form words in order for him to allow me to cum but feeling his dick inside of me from a new angle has me spiraling, i’m dangerously close to falling off the edge and Chris is having none of it.

“Is this what you wanted, huh? Me to fuck all of my anger out into your pussy? Wanted me to get mad at you so I could fuck you like a whore? Huh?” His mouth is directly next to my ear, he’s practically growling out his words while drilling his length deep inside of me. and his voice is swimming around in my head, echoing throughout my mind like a mantra as my vision begins to get fuzzy.

“Yes Chris, Fuck yes. Yes yes yes yes.” I choke out, his words go straight to my core, pushing me further. I feel tears start to stream down my face at how badly I need to cum, with all of his teasing beforehand and now going nonstop my body is past overwhelmed.

“Do you want to cum, slut?” My heart jumps at the thought of finally being able to cum, i nod eagerly and squeeze my eyes shut. More tears falling down my neck.

“Say you’re sorry. Apologize for being such a lil brat.” I let out a high pitched whine and my breathing quickens, his pace hasn’t faltered in the slightest, still ramming his dick into me at an ungodly pace now while one of his hands is keeping its grip onto my hair to hold my head back against him, his other hand making it’s way around my waist to rub my clit in circles.

“Shit-shit, Chris. I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry. I’ll n-never act like that a-again i’m sorry daddy. Please. Please forgive me. Pl-please let me cum.” I’m at my most desperate point, my whole body is tense and i could just die if he denies me any longer than this,

“Cum.”

Spots of white cloud my vision the second i hear the words fall from his lips, my mouth hangs wide open as i let out high pitched pornographic moans. My eyebrows are so deeply furrowed it’s causing me a headache and i feel my body going limp as he shoots his own load inside of me. Chris grabs my waist before i could fall and lays me onto the couch, pulling out of me and flopping down next to me. Our breathing is synced, both heavy and desperate for air as our energy dissipates into nothingness. I sit up straight and Chris follows my actions, sitting next to me with both of our bottom halves being completely bare and sweaty. The apartment is now filled with noises of our panting and sips of the water bottle we’d left on the table in front of us.

“I forgive you. Now hand me my phone”

2 lil taggies: @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie

[lizslibrary]

Facade

Summary: Bucky x Reader fic where Reader is sick but decides to go on a mission anyway.

A/N: This is my first fanfiction, please comment or critique it; I am always open to suggestions. I also struggled on finding a good ending, so I just decided to leave the rest of the story up to the imagination of the reader. 🥰

Warnings: assassin!reader, Sickness; flu, overexertion, guns, fighting, fainting, Slowburn (Picks up in the end,) angst, fluff, guilt, angry Bucky

Word count: 2,007

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

I lean my back against the side of the jet, trying to appear as normal as possible. We were going on a HYDRA intel mission and I was sick. I knew going on this mission was a bad decision, but I couldn’t let my team down.

 As I took a deep breath, I could feel a pair of eyes watching me; I didn’t even have to look over to know it was Bucky. He stared at me with his arms crossed over his chest and his head tilted slightly backward. I could tell he knew something was wrong, but I didn’t bother meeting his gaze.

A few minutes later, the plane landed in a remote location, and slowly, the back door dropped with a soft hiss. I unstrapped my seatbelt and hoisted my gun over my shoulder walking down the ramp and into a thick layer of snow. The cold air felt nice against my flushed cheeks, and I sighed as I watched the rest of the team trail out of the jet.

Steve stood confidently as he began giving orders, “Sam and Natasha, patrol the outside; make notes of everyone entering and exiting the compound.” “y/n, Bucky and I will take the inside, working on containing and evacuating evidence that may be crucial to Hydra’s destruction.” Steve stood silent for a moment. “Does everyone understand?” 

Everyone nodded and stood next to their partners. I notice Bucky watching me from behind Steve. I turned my head away from him so I wouldn’t give myself away. I knew that if he found out I was sick, he would stop the mission and make us turn around.

“The snow is thick, walk slow and conserve energy…we have the whole day ahead of us,” Steve says, beginning to walk forward.

Everyone trudges behind Steve in silence, our footsteps making quiet crunching sounds through the snow. I follow closely behind Steve, while Bucky trails closely behind me. I make sure to place my feet in Steve's already deep footprints, the last thing I wanted was to be drained of my energy before we'd even reach the compound.

I look up at the dark gray sky; we must be high up in the mountains, looking down on what seems like endless miles of nothingness.  It wasn't surprising that HYDRA would be located here, being a rather isolated organization.

A little while later I began to make out the rectangular shape of the compound through the dense snow that was falling from the sky. My hands were getting numb from holding onto the straps on my gun holster and my legs ached from walking through the snow. Steve looked over at me, I saw concern but I just gave him a reassuring nod and pushed forward.

As we got closer, I noticed that the base was a massive, grey complex. The building was made of concrete and had no windows, just little square holes that littered the walls...it reminded me of a prison.

Steve came to a stop and crouched behind a concrete barrier, he motioned for us to do the same. The team huddled beside Steve and watched the camp, it was only a few yards away allowing us to see movement from behind the large, barbed fence.

"Send Redwing out, we need to see the safest route for entry," Steve ordered. Sam was quick to oblige, sending the drone into the snowfall.

It hovered above the entrance to the complex, giving us an accurate view of how many guards there were. There were three men posted around the entrance, all wearing black helmets. One of them remained stationed by the gate while the other two patrolled around the gate.

Sam watched the feed from the drone, scanning the screen for any more guards, "Seems like there are only three near the entrance...if you can take them out you have a clear path to a set of double doors." Sam said looking at Steve out of the corner of his eye "The problem is...how are you gonna get in?"

"Tony said that there should be a keypad on the outside, luckily for us he managed to find the code," Steve said with a small grin on his face, I could hear a small chuckle come from Bucky.

Natasha shook her head "I wouldn't expect anything less from that man."

"Sam, keep a watch on Redwing and head to the left side of the building. Natasha, you take right." Steve says "Bucky y/n, follow me...be aware of your surroundings."

As soon as the plan is said, we jump into action. Steve begins creeping towards the front of the complex, with the sound of our footsteps ringing in the snow-covered ground, while Bucky and I cover him. Steve slams his shield into the neck of one of the guards while I wrestle another to the ground and knock him unconscious. My head is spinning as I stand up but I help Bucky take care of the last guy.

With the first threat taken care of, we hurry over to where Steve is standing, "This way," Steve points at a door on the side of the building. We follow closely behind him and watch his back as he types in the code on the keypad.

  He grabs the handle and turns it.  The door creaks open slowly, revealing a very dimly lit hallway. Steve leads the way down the hall.  The smell of damp stone fills the air, with the faint scent of blood and gunpowder lingering in the air.  We follow silently behind Steve until we get to the end of the hallway, where it opens up into two different hallways.

“I’ll take the right side, y/n Bucky go left,” Steve says

Bucky and I walk down the left hallway and I can feel my palms getting sweaty with each step. Something felt wrong, where was everyone? Why were there no HYDRA agents? I glance over at Bucky and see that he has a crease in his eyebrows, I could tell he was wondering the same thing. I grip my gun closer to my chest, it was eerily quiet and something felt off…very off. 

As we near the end of the hallway we enter a large room. It was filled with old dusty computers and lots of filing cabinets. I approach one of the computers and take out the hard drive making sure to put it in my pocket in hopes that it will be important intell. I watch Bucky enter a side room and suddenly the lights turn off and I jolt when I hear the loud slam of a door shutting.

It’s pitch black and I can hear footsteps circling me in the room “Y/N!? Y/N!” Bucky is pounding his fist on the other side of the door. 

I feel disoriented and dizzy as I try and move around the room “Bucky!? Where-?” I am cut off by a gloved hand covering my mouth; I scream and slam my elbow into the person behind me.

My breathing becomes more labored as I try and fight off the people attacking me. I feel myself on the verge of passing out.

 I grab my knife out of my pocket and slam it blindly into someone's torso. I lose my balance and I fall backward, causing my head to slam against the corner of the table. I let out a yell of pain and felt a warm liquid running down my neck.

I scramble back into a wall and feel someone else's hands on me, I try and fight back but my movements are disoriented; I am helpless. 

As soon as I feel all hope is lost, the door bursts open filling the room with light. Before I know what’s happening gunshots ring out and silence fills the room. My vision is swimming and I see a familiar, blurry silhouette approaching me; guilt fills my stomach.

“M-..sorry Bucky…” I slur as fight from blacking out.

Bucky scoops me up in his arms, and before I know it he is sprinting out of the compound and into the snow. My body is limp in his arms and I can hear him murmuring incoherent prayers as he runs.

Soon, we reach the jet, and he quickly puts me on the medical table. Everything around me is blurry and I don’t know what is happening.

I am so tired. Maybe I should sleep. Bucky wouldn’t be mad if I just slept for a minute…

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

My mind is pulled into the dark, tempting world of sleep.

A bright light fills my vision as I wake up. I blink a couple of times in an attempt to get my eyes to adjust to the light. What happened? Where am I? Several thoughts plagued my mind all at once and my body flings itself into an upright position.

Bucky stands up as soon as he sees me awake "Hey, hey! You're okay, you are safe.." Bucky says, gently trying to get me to lay back down.

The memories of last night flood my mind and I feel an intense wave of guilt in the pit of my stomach. I take a small glance at Bucky and notice the relief in his eyes quickly turn to that of hurt, maybe even anger. The look in his eyes pained me to see, I knew he felt upset about my actions.

"Bucky...I-"

"Why?" he says suddenly, staring me straight in my eyes.

"I'm sorry..."

Bucky closes his eyes in an attempt to calm himself "Sorry doesn't cut it." He says sharply "You almost died y/n."

I look away from him and shake my head "I know...but if I hadn't gone someone could have gotten hurt."

I watch anger form in his expression "Liz." His serious tone forces me to look at him "Are you not listening to me? You almost died!" His tone gets louder as he talks, "When I brought you back on the jet you were burning up and sweating...did you know that your fever almost reached 103."

Bucky takes a step backward and faces the wall, he rakes his fingers through his hair. "Do you understand that had I not been there and broken through a metal wall, you would be dead." He turns to face me again "Do you not understand that if you had died in that room; I would have blamed myself?" He looked me in the eyes "Do you not understand that if you died, I would have nothing else to live for?"

"Better me dead than you," I say quietly.

Bucky clenches his fist and inhales a sharp breath "Never, and I mean never, say that shit to me ever again." He grabs my hands and stands silently. "y/n, you give me a reason to wake up in the morning; the feeling I get when I see your gorgeous, happy face in the morning makes me feel alive."

I stare at him speechlessly and he continues "I know this is a terrible place, and a terrible time but I have to tell you..." The look he gives me makes my body tingle "I love you. I love you too much to the point where it hurts...and when we were in that compound I watched as the life drained from your eyes, and I felt more scared in that moment than I have ever had in my entire life...because I knew that If you were to die, I would have nothing left to get me out of bed in the morning, I would have nothing left to get me home safe from missions, I would have no more life because without you; I have none."

Bucky's words make it feel like the world has stopped, like it's just me and him and nothing can stop us from being together. I stare at Bucky's beautiful eyes, and he stares at mine; they tell me that I am here, that I am alive, and that I'm next to the person I love and care about most in this world.

[xxsunoosprincess]

could i request for enhypen legal line reaction to you being insecure about your stretch marks? under the chest and the thighs as well :( lol thank you

felt this one… again sorry it’s so late after your requested!

Enhypen reaction to their s/o being insecure about their stretch marks (OT6)

pairing: enhypen legal line x reader

warning: angst, emotional hurt/comfort, mentions of poor body image, insecurities, some are suggestive

Heeseung

Praise flows out of his mouth instantly because he is truly dumbfounded. His baby? His sweet baby doesn’t like how she looks. He is pouting, hands immediately gravitating to the stretch marks on your sides and gently brushing over the raised skin with his fingertip.

“I don’t understand” he frowns, the honesty and hurt across his face is clear as day “you and your stretch marks are really beautiful. Really, really beautiful. Baby, it hurts to see you don’t see yourself the way I see you”. It’s all said between the sweetest kisses he can muster up.

Jay

When you guys started dating, he vowed to take things slowly. He wants you for more than your body and he wants to make sure you know that. This accompanied by the fact that the furthest you have gone is some heavy petting over clothes means that he hasn’t ever seen your body.

It’s movie night, what movie you don’t know, because the way he is mouthing in your neck and how his hands slide up your shirt is taking all your attention. Partially due to anticipation, but also something much further from pleasure. When you mumble out a ‘wait’, hands catching his, he freezes and backs off. He would never overstep. If that means giving you space, fucking with your shirt still on, or an innocent cuddle, he is more than happy to oblige.

Jake

Jake has them too… Headcannoning him to have stretch marks on his lower back. Probably appeared during his growth spurt. Still shy about taking his shirt off around people, but this drastically changes when he overhears you comment negatively about your own stretch marks while on the phone with your friend.

I imagine he is kinda at a loss for words, unsure how to comfort you but his heart is broken to hear you don’t love your body as much as he does. So, he leads by example. When questioned about why he is walking around the dorm shirtless, he glances at you out of the corner of his eye, blushing a bit as he says “nothing to be ashamed of! even my stretch marks are a sign of how hard my body has worked to help me grow!!” Hopes his confidence is contagious, but for now he is satisfied with the giggles he pulls out of you with his over the top flexing.

Sunghoon

He isn’t stupid. He knows what it means when he sees you scrutinizing your body in the mirror when you think he is still in the shower. I mean, he did figure skating. He’s an idol. When you work in industries that are critical of your body, you just know. He just… he doesn’t know what to do. It kills him to see you upset about anything, let alone your body. It leaves him shuffling on his feet.

“You look really nice” it startles you, fumbling to pull your shirt back over your now exposed tummy. You whip around to see him standing awkwardly in the doorway, his cheeks just as red as yours. “You shouldn’t… do that.” The vague hand gestures he makes are confusing, but even more startling is the sudden bone-crushing hug he pulls you into. “You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself”.

Sunoo

I think he knows better than everyone what it’s like to feel insecure about your body, what it feels like to have everyone’s eyes just scanning for flaws, so his blood runs cold when you ask him what products can help reduce the marks. Sure he has the creams, the oils, whatever, that could answer your question but he is tossing them the moment he gets home.

“What? Did someone say something to you?” You’ve never seen Sunoo look so serious. Not a hint of a smile on his face, no softness in his tone. The idea of anyone making you feel insecure makes him sick. “You should never try to change yourself, your body, for anyone. Don’t look away, I’m serious, you shouldn’t change, not even for me and I would never ask you to change. You’re perfect.”

Jungwon

It’s such a lovely day. Jungwon has dragged you out for a picnic, the sun is shining bright and the river running next to you guys makes for such a picturesque day. At least, it would be if the dress you were wearing wasn’t riding up your legs at every move and exposing the stretch marks running up your thighs.

“-and then he told me to… wait, y/n are you listening?” Jungwon whines as he notices you distracted by your dress again. You stutter out an apology, face beet red, but he doesn’t let you get it out before he is pulling off his jacket and casting it over your legs “There. Is that better? Stop, don’t give it back I’m not cold! You seem uncomfortable with your legs exposed, it’s the least I can do. But I wish you wouldn’t… your legs are so sexy- hey! Don’t flick me!”

END.

a/n: this one feels like shart… I don’t think I’m great at writing fluff. They all are ‘T’s in their MBTI except Sunoo’s, so I felt like it was a little hard to gauge how they would react so something so sensitive. But! I think they are all lovebugs and would do their best to comfort you. I tried something new though :3 hope you guys enjoy - xx princess.

[xoxoladyaz]

It Hits Different This Time, Part 2

Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Rock Star Eddie x Steve Harrington

TW: Mentions of alcohol, drug abuse

QUICK AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm so sorry that the last entry was so angst heavy, I promise this one provides some comfort! Eddie needed to take a big step here and he really, really does. Also, much love to everyone who commented, I've tagged you at the bottom of the post - let me know if anyone else would like to be notified of the next entry!

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five

It was another five days before Steve heard from Eddie. Another five torturous days of radio silence, only this time, there wasn’t anything online. No new articles were popping up saying he’d been spotted somewhere, no new TikToks of him meeting fans on the street. The rest of the band was MIA too; Steve had thought about sending Jeff a text to check-in but ultimately decided to wait another couple days. Robin had been texting with Chrissy, after all, and if something bad had gone down, she would know.

When Eddie did finally call, it wasn’t from a number that Steve recognized.

“I’m getting a call from Malibu.”

“Holy shit!” Robin sat up on the other end of the couch and shot him a look. “Okay, just breathe dingus, okay? It’s going to be okay, I’ll be here the whole time.” She squeezed his ankle comfortingly. “You can do this.”

Steve accepted the call with shaky hands and brought his phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hey Steve.”

He shut his eyes and swallowed, trying to stop his voice from cracking. “Eddie.”

He heard Eddie let out a watery laugh across the line. “Do you, uh, have a minute?”

“Mmmm hmmm,” Steve hummed. He physically couldn’t get an actual word out. 

This was it. Eddie was leaving, he’d cheated, it was over – 

“I’m in rehab.”

Steve’s eyes shot open. “You’re what?”

Robin started rocking back and forth. “Turn it up!” She hissed, and Steve obliged, turning up his volume so she could just barely hear what was being said. (Was this a private conversation? Yes. Did Eddie know he’d probably immediately tell Robin everything? Also yes. 

Was this news big enough to warrant having Robin eavesdrop?

Absolutely yes.)

“Yeah, I’m, uh, at the Promises Treatment Center in Malibu,” Eddie continued. “We got back about five days ago and when I saw your note, I – 

“Look, Steve,” Eddie continued, and his voice was choked up, like he himself couldn’t speak, “I fucked up. I’ve fucked everything up. You are – you said in that note that you didn’t want me to give up on my dreams, and you’re right, making it big and getting famous for my music was my dream for literal years. Because I kept thinking “once I get a record out there,” “once I go on tour,” “once I win a Grammy,” “once I get a million dollars,” then I’d finally be happy. 

“But it turns out the only thing being famous has done is make me pretty fucking miserable,” Eddie let out a harsh laugh. “But I was so goddamn convinced that this was it, you know, that I’d accomplished my dreams so I must be happy that I started taking whatever I could get my fucking hands on to make me feel that way. The thing is drugs and the alcohol and the parties never made it fucking last. It just made every other second that I was in the public eye that much worse.

“But I’d still made it, you know? I felt like I didn’t deserve to feel this fucking miserable. And everyone back home was so fucking proud and I didn’t want to let them down - ” Eddie paused for a few moments to clear his throat before continuing. “I didn’t want to let you down. Because Eddie “The Freak” Munson didn’t deserve you, but maybe Eddie “The Rock Star” could.”

Steve can feel his own throat closing up and he can barely see Robin’s face, his eyes are watering that bad. “Baby,” he sobbed. “I wish you’d told me.”

“Me too,” Eddie sniffled across the line. “I didn’t though, I just kept self-medicating and ignoring it, because that’s always worked,” he huffed sarcastically. “But then - ” Eddie cut off again, and Steve can hear that he’s trying so hard to hold back his own sobs, “then I came home last week and realized that I’d missed our goddamn anniversary because I was too fucking high and that you were gone and I just – I called Jeff and I told him to get me on a plane out here because you – you, Steve Harrington, you are the best thing in my goddamn life. And the only dream I want to chase now is the one where we get married and adopt some kids and grow old together.”

“Eddie,” Steve sobbed out again, and he heard Eddie start to cry too, and then suddenly they were crying together, even from hundreds of miles away.

“So I’m gonna be here for the next six weeks,” Eddie finally continued, his voice still full of tears. “I’m, uh, meeting with a therapist for a few hours every day and working through my shit. I wanna be a guy who deserves good things, baby. I wanna be a guy who deserves you.”

“What – what about the band?” Steve sniffled, rubbing at his eyes. A handful of Kleenex appeared in front of him. Robin must have gotten up to grab them at some point. He shot her a thankful nod and patted at his eyes; Robin nodded back and did the same, her face flushed that bright shade of red that accompanied her own tears.

“Murray wrote a provision into our contract where if one of us checks into rehab, then the band is instantly put on a two-year, non-negotiable hiatus.”

“But – what about your momentum, the label kept talking about it?”

“The label can go fuck themselves” Eddie practically growled over the phone. “Who do you think hosted the party where I first got my hands on the hardcore stuff anyways?”

“Babe - ”

“Murray said he was going to look into some sort of contract termination so we can sign somewhere else. And even if we didn’t have that thing written into our contract, we probably would have gone on hiatus anyways, or worse. That – the last leg was rough. Gareth was just as fucked up as I was and Jeff was fucking pissed. He kept having to pull Gareth out of orgies and shit while babysitting Phil and I too.”

“Did,” Steve swallowed harshly, “did - ”

“No, baby, never,” Eddie declared quickly. “Even when I couldn’t fucking see straight, you were the only one I wanted to be with. I honestly don’t even know who we were partying with at the end there, the label sent them for some PR shit, I don’t know. It’s just another reason why we want out.”

“Oh,” Steve murmured, “okay. Good. Or, well, not good. You know.”

“Yeah, baby, I do,” Eddie replied softly. 

They sat in silence for a few moments, just listening to each other breathe. “I, uh,” Eddie started up again quietly, “I’m wearing the ring.”

“Yeah?” Steve found himself smiling despite the fresh tears welling up in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Eddie’s voice was just as choked up as before. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

“Eddie - ”

“Look, I know, I know I hurt you so, so badly and I’m never going to fucking forgive myself for what I did, but I – you’re everything I want, baby. If I had to give up Corroded Coffin tomorrow for you, I would do it in a heartbeat. And I – I know I can’t expect for you to just, like, forgive me after the shit I pulled, but – will you be there, when I get out? Can I – I want to come home to you,” Eddie finished, and Steve could hear that he was crying again.

Steve looked over at Robin, who was wiping more tears out of her own eyes. They looked at each other for a few moments.

It might be crazy, but I think I want to say yes.

I don't blame you. I mean, this is one hell of an apology, especially from Mr. “I’ll Never Need to Go to Rehab Ever.”

Yeah. And I love him.

And you love him.

“I’ll be there,” Steve murmured reassuringly, and Eddie burst into a new wave of muffled sobs on the other end of the phone. “Just do what you need to do and come home when you’re ready, okay? I’ll be waiting for home.”

“At home?” Eddie’s voice broke on a whimper.

“At home. I’ll even clean the bathrooms and everything,” Steve joked, and Eddie let out a loud laugh despite the quiet sobs Steve could still hear. 

“Really? You’ll be there?”

“Yeah, Eddie. I’ll be there. We can get through this.”

“Together.”

“Together. Because I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone.”

“Fuck, Stevie,” Eddie let out an incredulous laugh again, “I love you so fucking much, baby. I’m going to marry the fuck out of you someday.”

“Save the sweet talk for when you get home, okay?” Steve could feel his heart settling in his chest, and whatever tears he’d had left to cry were all gone now. There was just the twinge of missing Eddie, but that would go away soon enough. “I’m so fucking proud of you, Eds.”

“Thanks, baby.” Eddie’s answer was soft now. “So I, uh, get a couple hours to call people every day from one of the site’s phones. Can I keep calling you?”

“Please,” Steve heard Eddie exhale in relief. “Every day sounds perfect.”

“Good, good. I’ll have to, uh, use some of my time to talk to Wayne, but the rest of it is yours, baby. And Gareth, Jeff threw him into a different center too. His check-in was much less voluntary though.”

“Shit,” Steve winced. “Is there anything Robin or I can do to help?”

“Take Jeff and Chrissy out to a nice dinner and use the Amex,” Eddie snorted, causing Steve to laugh.

“Consider it done.”

“Good." Steve heard the sound of another voice behind Eddie. Eddie replied something Steve couldn't understand, but it was in the affirmative. "Doc says my time is up for today. My, uh, talk with Wayne took up a lot of time,” Eddie returned, and his voice trembled as he spoke. “But I’ll call you tomorrow and I’ll see you in six weeks.”

“Yes you will.” Steve shut his eyes and imagined Eddie was standing right in front of him. Eddie with his riotous curls and holey graphic tees and tight jeans. Eddie with his rings on his fingers, with Steve’s ring on his finger. Eddie, standing across from him and smiling at him with that twinkle in his eye that had first caught Steve’s attention all those years ago. 

“I love you, Eds.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. I’ll see you on the other side.”

Tags List: @gregre369 @starman-jpg @skoomy-doompy @thequeenrainacorn @sleepyboosstuff @strawberrykore @paintsplatteredandimperfect @amoris-no-smut-allowed @steve-the-hairrington @iknewyouweremuggle @swimmingbirdrunningrock @sunfloweringstories @loverkasp @hyperfixationgoddess @steddie-as-they-go @zerokrox-blog @messrs-weasley @thelittleclare @lovelyscot

[merchelsea]

private support- george russell

pairing: george russell x fem! model! reader

summary: you are constantly fighting george’s haters on interviews and socials, but when you need him to do the same, he doesn’t.

author’s note: my first time writing angst, please give me some tips to improve!! and i’m actually taking requests now, so if you have any, let me know!

word count: 2k+ (not counted properly)

warnings: angst, fighting, miscommunication, racism accusations, silence treatment, confused reader.

your mind snapped back to reality as your hairstylist, who also happened to be your best friend, playfully snapped her fingers in front of your face.

"what are you thinking about?" she asked, her voice filled with curiosity and concern as she stood before you, demanding an answer.

"nothing," you quickly shot back, though the truth was quite the opposite. you had been mulling over everything that had transpired in the past week.

a false accusation of racism had been circulating on the internet, and it had been so well-constructed that people started believing you were capable of such a thing.

it was frustrating that almost no one believed you, but it was even more frustrating that you couldn't deny it. this whole scandal had brought up an unwanted spotlight, and you were obligated to follow a contract, which meant that, if they were to push you under the bus because they'd benefit from it, they could. and that is exactly what they did.

you felt anger and disappointment toward those you worked with daily, as you never thought they would betray you in such a way. in response, you had pulled all available strings and taken legal action to clear your name. while you had managed to set the record straight publicly through the legal process, it did little to ease the weight on your mind.

"that’s bullshit, you have been watching that tiktok for 15 minutes." your friend quipped, redirecting your attention to your phone, which had been playing the same vogue advertisement repeatedly. "so, what's on your mind?"

you sighed, contemplating the flood of thoughts but reluctant to discuss them. "a lot of stuff, but I really don't want to talk about it." your friend took a deep breath and reluctantly accepted your reluctance. "fine," she conceded. as much as she could try to hide it, you knew her, and realized she wasn't happy about it. "don't get mad."

"I’m not mad. I just don’t understand why you never talk with me about this stuff." you furrowed your brows as she moved to hold your hair from behind, starting to curl it again. "I mean, I’m supposed to be your best friend, you should be able to talk with me."

"it's about george," you exhaled as she began working on your hair, curling it once more. "what did he do?" she asked, her curiosity piqued. "you guys never fight."

"he didn’t do anything, that’s the problem." you explained, feeling the heat of anger dissipate. the woman behind you turned your chair to face her, and you knew it was time to open up about it.

"what happened, babe?" she asked, pulling over a bench and sitting down. it was clear that she recognized the importance of the conversation.

you silently wondered about what to say for minutes, because even tho it was something really clear in your mind, you had no idea of how to put it into words.

she grew impatient in front of you, drumming her fingers in the bench she was sat in, waiting for you to break.

"he still hasn't said anything about this. he talked to me, told me he knew I could never do such a thing," you began, picking up a makeup pencil to occupy your hands. "but people asked him in interviews, and he didn't even deny it. he would just say hat he wouldn't comment on it."

You felt a mix of emotions, ranging from sadness to disappointment. You had always defended George in similar situations, in interviews, instagram stories, fighting people on twitter. in every way you could.

unintentionally, you expected him to do the same for you when the time came. but it came and he didn't. you couldn't really blame him because you never even talked to him about it, he had no way of knowing, but you did, you blamed him.

you blamed him and you felt awful for that. it was all an endless circle of guilt and shame that you were trying to run of. confused, stressed, attacked. how could someone be fine while feeling all of that?

questions lingered in your brain as your best friend talked to you, trying to help you in the better way she could. besides all of the mess, she was the one thing you were sure off, she was your rock, stabling you through the storm.

posting that video and coming clean about the situation had been a good step, but it hadn't eased the stabbing pain in your chest.

coming home to him was harder than ever. you had ignored his calls and every single one of his attempts to contact you. it was childish of you, and you were aware, but you just couldn't help it.

anyways, things had to be said.

as you entered the room, you found george lying on the couch in his mercedes shirt. he smiled when he saw you, relieved that you had come. he thought you wouldn't come, that caused by the three days left on read and the 14 missed calls.

seeing you was a relief for him. he immediately got up and walked to you, but you denied his attempt to touch your face. the smile on his face disappeared as fast as it came on.

"hey, what happened?" he attempted to caress your cheek, but you pulled away his arm. "what did I do?" his confused and saddened gaze filled you with regret and you realized what you were doing.

you weren't being fair.

"I'm sorry. I just—" you began, stepping back. his reaction made you realize that you needed to communicate openly. "I need to talk to you," you said, and george nodded, ready to listen. he looked genuinely terrified as you refused his touch, not understanding what he had done wrong.

"okay... hm. lets sit down." he suggested, trying to make it as comfortable as he could for you.

you both moved to the couch, sitting on opposite ends. george looked you in the eye, waiting for you to speak.

"so, you know about that racism accusation, right?"george nodded, not daring to speak. "I'm kind of upset about it."

"well that's understandable, yo-"

"george," you interrupted, wanting to clarify your point. "I'm not really worried about the accusation itself right now. you haven't said anything about it yet." the brit furrowed his brows.

"what? I told you exactly what I thought that same night. you could never do such thing and I know that very well." you sighed, annoyed again. it was difficult to try and see things from his perspective, but the truth is that you weren't explaining him things clearly.

"that's not what I mean. you've talked about it with me, but you never did on public. you never said that 'i could never do such thing' to anyone else." his eyes fall on you again, softened this time.

"oh." it lingers in the air for quite some time as he gets ahold of his thoughts and you grow inpatient. "I'm sorry about that. I never thought you wanted to." some other words danced on the tip of his tongue. he contained himself, but he could've easily ended this argument.

"you never thought? how's that?" you offendedly ask. how could you not want your boyfriend to have your back?

"well, once you told me you didn't like the thought of being seen as dependent of me. that you wanted to be seen as an independent and strong woman. I respected, and still respect that." you recalled saying this after a long night in monaco. deep conversations had become a regular occurrence between you two after his race weekends.

"it's not about depending on you; it's about you supporting me," you raised your voice, making it clear how upset you were. "I always do that for you, and it doesn't mean anything."

"yeah, because the media and society are twisted as fuck, and we both know that," george said, turning his body towards you, now more open to discussing the issue. "tell me that if it were me in your position, you wouldn't be labeled as a woman who needs her boyfriend to protect her. do you have any idea of how you would be talked about?"

you hated it when he was right, but he was right now. however, he seemed to miss your perspective on all of this.

"I wouldn't care. I would know you were by my side and I wouldn't care."

"your such a bad liar. you would care. you would and you will because I gave an interview like two days ago, talking about it." he sighs. "because even though I knew it wasn't what you would've wanted, I could not keep quite while you were going through all of that."

silence fills the room as you both just stare at each other. how could have you missed this? okay, you had been avoiding anything george related for the past days, but you would know. wouldn't you?

"of course that, I could've told you if you just picked up your damn phone." george got up and left for your bedroom before you had a chance to react. but he did exactly what you needed—he gave you some time to think, to process, and to feel guilty for treating him poorly when all he had done was thinking of you.

you took out your phone and searched his name on twitter. the first thing coming up being exactly what you were looking for.

"it's unacceptable. it's actually unacceptable that someone can do this and live their life in peace. that person screwed her over — her name, her work, everything she represents. yeah, no, I can not deal with this shit. I mean, she is the most admirable person in this earth and people who can't deal with other's happiness just keep trying to mess that up. they wont succeed, though. she is incredible enough to not let that happen." "george, does it bother you that it was a fan of yours who came up with this?" "fan? sorry but that can't be called a fan. that is just a jerk who tried to ruin someone's life. does it bother me that is the love of my life being attacked? a lot. it drives me crazy. as I said before, I can't deal with this. I honestly think it would be easier if I was the one being attacked. I just can't understand why someone would do this to her. she always does what's best for others, she supports everyone, is always out there in the world fighting other's fights and this is how she is payed? it's not fair, it's just not fair." "i have only one more question for you. why did it take you so long to speak about this? even your teammate, lewis hamilton, talked about this the day it came out, and you're only just now coming clean." "well obviously I wanted to talk about this from the moment I saw it. it took a lot of me to not start a war right there. but we all know how fucked up the world is and how she would've been talked about if I came straight to interviews. she probably will even get a few comments about me but I couldn't keep it in. if she is not allowed to speak, I'll speak for her. that's how we work. we love each other and we support each other." "uh, i'm sorry george. not allowed?" "thank you for having me."

his face displayed anger, and he seemed more than ready to start a war. you couldn't help but smile throughout the whole video, feeling grateful for the man you had by your side.

and then it hit you—you had been treating him horribly when he didn't deserve it. in fact, he deserved the opposite. so, you got up and went to apologize.

opening the bedroom door, you saw him sitting on the edge of the bed, facing the door. he had been waiting for you.

"I'm sorry," you said as you moved closer. he pulled you close by the waist, hugging your body, and you caressed his hair.

" you need to talk to me," he murmured against your belly.

"I know, baby. I'm sorry," you said, taking his head in your hands and forcing him to look up at you. "I promise you that from now on, we'll discuss everything. I love you so much."

"I love you too. you know that, right?" you nodded your head with a big smile. if this had shown you something, was that he loved you.

"I know, and I'm sorry for cutting you off when things went bad. that was really shitty of me." you looked up, admitting your mistakes.

"never do that again, I got so afraid. I thought I had lost you."

"I'll never do it again. I promise." you stuck out your pinky and he took it. sealing the promise with a kiss on your enlaced fingers.

[drdemonprince]

i read in the comments to my last ask about "ordinary unhappiness" the idea of depression as a lack of agency and i feel like that is true? when i feel miserable and in pain, it's not because something is sad but because something is either unachievable or impossible (or at least there is the perception of it). and like i think that's what you were getting at too? this thing that drives you to keep going, this lack of satisfaction. i simply don't have anything i can give into such that i would ever even feel a lack of satisfaction. i've never had anything to give myself into and feel frustrated and perhaps sometimes successful in but instead i just envy the people who do have those things. nothing i've ever done has felt maintained a sense of emotional connectiveness in that way (positive or negative). i guess to wrap this back around to another potential talking point, i'm curious how you find that in your life? is it weird for me that nothing has ever felt worth putting myself whole ass into? idk, i find it envious you've got both writing and gay hypno fetish stuff you're able to just throw yourself into so wholly and utterly

Passion isn't inherent, it can be a choice too. I only look like I care a ton about writing and gay hypno stuff because I have deliberately chosen to pursue those passions, for many years, and cultivated a deep interest in them, anon.

When I was in my early twenties, I felt completely empty. I was a void. If you've read the first chapter of Unmasking Autism, this is the period I'm talking about in that book. I went away to graduate school (because I was good at academics, and I had some illusions about what a career in that field would do for me), but I had absolutely zero zest for the subject of psychology at that point. I had no research ideas. I read psychology books and publications purely out of obligation. I did what was required of me, but nothing additional beyond that, and I spent the rest of my time sitting at home, sometimes literally staring at the wall and crying. I had no friends or hobbies, aside from taking long, long depression walks listening to podcasts in order to fill the silence.

This was when I was at my most depressed, and my most suicidal. Just existing was a pain. I'd sob in bed at night and cry out begging for God to kill me, and I didn't even believe in God. The only thing that distracted me from my pain was a guy I was seeing, who was beautiful and very cruel and inconsistent, and I clung to him through all kinds of lies and abuse because it felt as though my happiness was located inside of him.

I had a friend that I wrote to about how miserable I was, and all the twists and turns that my horrible romance was taking. Her name was Heather. (Unlearning Shame is dedicated to her). She told me hey, you're a really good writer, did you know that? I really enjoy reading your emails, even when you're speaking about the most pitiful anguished shit, you really put it poetically and have a ton of insight. You should write more.

For a while, I ignored her. I didn't care about writing. I just wanted to get my pain out on the page because I had nobody to talk to, and oodles of time to waste. I had nothing otherwise that I felt I HAD to say. I had no PASSION. I did not feel like I was put on this earth to do anything. Other people seemed to have these drives, and I had nothing.

But then one day in a fit of depression I stopped by a bookstore right near my apartment, The Armadillo's Pillow, just to get outside of the house. I happened upon a book I had loved in high school, Jonathan Franzen's The Corrections. I took it home. I read it. It transported me for a few hours away from my pain. I went back to the book store and picked up some sci-fi. A John Varley collection, I think. I was also swept away from my suffering, even when the stories had flaws that I noticed. I was interested in the actual craft of storytelling: what worked and what didn't. And there was finally some beauty in my head instead of the usual dreariness and self-hatred and emptiness.

And so. I made the choice to write. I could have taken it or left it at that point. I didn't care about anything. Caring is a muscle that you have to flex. And when you're depressed, it can be very hard. I needed a lot of nudges from the external world and other people, to realize that I had some things I did gravitate toward, even if I didn't realize it.

All that time of course I WAS driven to write. I was churning out 5k word letters to Heather every day practically. I was reading stupid shit online. And when it was put in front of me, and I had no reason to feel guilt about not working hard enough on other things, I reached for books. But I didn't feel passion strongly under the heavy blankets of my depression. Or usually at all, really. I am a quite internally muted person whose emotions are suppressed. But they're there. Speaking to me softly. And to overcome my depression, I had to decide to listen to them instead of ignoring them all of the time, and give them kindling, and then fan them into a flame.

I started blogging regularly while I was in graduate school (right here, hello, you can check my archive dating back to 2011), and finding a reason to live. When I was writing, I felt like the world was interesting, and beautiful. It gave me new things to do. I attended literary readings and book launches all over town. I submitted work to magazines. I bought old copies of magazines and read them. I inhaled books. I listened to fiction podcasts. I joined writing groups. At first, it felt like a slog, like anything else. Doing these things, I was not "happy". But I was interested. I liked learning about the world of publishing, critiquing people's stories in my head, and commisserating with other Tumblr writers about the stuff that got featured on the Prose tag that sucked.

After YEARS of doing this, of choosing to fan my passions, it became a genuine motivation in my life. But even then? I lose track of it sometimes. I get busy, or there's no place comfy to sit and read in my apartment, and I forget that I like writing and reading for months at a time. And then I have to choose it again. It takes effort to care about something, every time.

It's the same way with hypno. I did have a fetish for this stuff all my life long. But it's a passion that people always thought was weird and gross, and that I thought was bad. I didn't tell anyone about it until my late 20's. I felt ashamed masturbating to it or looking up hypno content online. For years I snuffed out that flame of passion until I could barely feel it anymore. It wasn't until I was super depressed AGAIN in my later 20's that I took a bunch of weird off-label anti-depressant drugs under the table and had a weird dreamy headspace overtake me and make me insanely horny that I remembered how much I loved hypno, and because I was in search of an escape from my tormented brain, I sought hypnotists out.

And I had the time of my life. But I also had boring, awkward encounters, bad hook-ups, and had to do a ton of work.

My passions have drawn me out of depression because I needed them to. I had to find them, listen to them, and then give them lots of food. And it's one of the few things that a person does often have agency over, no matter how dispiriting their circumstances. You can make choices about where to put what attention you do have, in what free moments you do have. When you're on the bus or in line at the grocery store and you're thinking about how much you hate yourself, you can try to think about a story you read or a sexual fantasy you had, instead. It's a lot of work. But it's better work than the work of hating yourself, which takes a whole lot of energy and attention itself.

I hope you can find something like this for you. It doesn't really matter what it is. It can be some hobby you've always wanted to try, or something "childish" you've suppressed. Having a passion isn't like being chosen by the universe to care about something. It's not like love at first sight. Nothing fucking works like that in life. It's always work. It's always a choice you have to make, because no one else will give it to you. But there can be hints that you can follow, sometimes.

[hispg]

Between royalty and vows

Pairings: Prince! Leon x Fem! Reader

Summary: A forced marriage, a fate set in stone, nothing could change that.

In the world of royalty, there were no choices, only obligations to fulfill. What you didn't expect was to become engaged to a renowned prince, ready to succeed the lineage.

Until that moment, you still had some hope that everything would work out, maybe it wasn't so bad. But it would be a shame if your future husband had a mistress.

Wouldn't it?

Wc:3.4k

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt/ comfort, cheating, arranged marriage, eventual smut, one-sided love, affairs, manipulative behavior from Leon, (I'll put more once things start to progress).

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

An: Sooo there is the new chapter! I was so anxious to write it and post it! In all honesty, this is the chapter that I most liked to write(so far).

I've been receiving some dms about creating a taglist, so I'll do it from the next chapter and on. If you're interested in entering the tag list, you can dm me or comment on any chapters of this fic, and I'll add you. For the ones who already talked to me, I'll put you on the list already, so you don't need to message me again!<3

Also, I'll start to crosspost this fic here and on Ao3, for the ones who prefer to read in there. Here's the link Ao3. Eventually, I'll post all chapters!

Chapter 5: Pretty lies

The heavy rain outside was no bother to the couple in bed, just as the cold was no problem that couldn't be solved with the intimacy that had just been shared under the covers.

There he was, lying with his lover, Ashley. Warming another woman's bed, offering her the warmth that his body emanated, the love that made her heart beat faster every time.

Both were nude, without the slightest concern for anything, all that mattered was what had just happened in that room. The closeness they shared, the oaths of love spoken between each kiss, between each embrace.

They had just made love, done something that was yet another symbol of the compromising union they contained.

Leon hadn't gone back to the castle as soon as he arrived back from his trip, he had gone to his beloved's house, a hidden place that only they knew where it was, only the lovebirds met there.

It was their love nest.

The same place where Ashley gave herself to him for the first time, the same sacred place where they made love whenever they could. The place where they loved each other deeply, where they didn't have to hide anything.

Ashley lay with her head on Leon's bare chest, while he had one arm wrapped around her and the other stroking her blonde hair.

The only sound in the room was the wood cracking in the fireplace and the soft breathing of both of them in that bed.

The clothes were thrown about, the silk covers hiding their shame, but if Leon was being honest, he couldn't think of a better place to be.

Because he felt at home every time he was with Ashley, even if he knew it was wrong.

And he was screwed if anyone found out.

"Are you staying?" Ashley asks in a whisper, taking the opportunity to place a soft kiss on his chest.

Leon gives her a blown smile, looking at her tenderly, "I'd love to. But you know I can't."

It was already too bold of him to come to this place to spend time with her, as much as he wanted to, he couldn't go along with her every whim.

Especially as the wedding was approaching, and he was dead if he didn't show up.

She sighed helplessly, knowing full well that this would be the answer from the start. But in all honesty, what did she expect? Despite her misfortunes, she was the mistress.

"I promise I'll try to see you more, mh? My wife won't be the problem, don't worry." Leon reassured her, kissed her on the forehead and got up, soon he would be getting ready to leave.

Although he wanted to be with her for even five more minutes, he would give all the money in the world to make it happen.

"Does she know about us?" Ashley asked, picking up the blanket and covering her bare midriff.

That was enough for Leon to clench his eyes shut, buttoning his pants as he stared at her.

"She can't even conceive of it. You know our deal." It was a good deal for both sides, not least because Leon didn't even want to imagine what Ashley's father would do to him once he found out what he and his daughter were doing behind closed doors.

Ashley then sighed, the blonde strands falling across her forehead as she thought for a moment.

"Do you think you can still see me after you're married?" She asks softly, almost embarrassed by her own question.

"I'll always find a way, don't worry." He says, the sincere smile that became the perfect proof that he was saying this from the bottom of his soul.

It was always a painful farewell, but Leon knew it was necessary for him to do it. Once he'd put all his clothes back on, he turned to Ashley, taking her in his arms and planting a gentle, passionate kiss on her lips. He also made a point of pressing his body against hers to leave his cologne on her.

It wasn't enough to have his smell on the silk sheets, he needed to leave his mark on her too.

Goodbyes aside, he knew he had to leave, the sun was rising, and if he wanted to get back to the castle before it was too late, he had to leave now.

As he took the steps to leave the small chalet in the Italian countryside, where no one suspected them, he took one last look at his beloved, giving her a broad smile as he said goodbye.

Watching Ashley go all wobbly as he walked out the front door. She sighed as her lover left, waving to him and looking dreamily out of the window.

Leon walked up to the discreet carriage that was waiting for him in front of the cottage, besides the coachman, there was Leon's faithful butler, Ausdret.

And also his worst accomplice, the butler who always covered up everything Leon did, no matter how stupid it might seem or be.

"Your Highness." Ausdret greeted, leading Leon to the carriage.

"It's good that you're here." Leon replies back, tucking himself into the small carriage.

His butler nods and sits down on the opposite seat, facing Leon. Even though Ausdret knew that no one could put a halter on Leon, he was still trying to talk some sense into his young, dim-witted head.

"Your Highness do you not think it is inappropriate to maintain this relationship?" Ausdret asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

Leon scoffed, narrowing his gaze at the poor butler, acting as if he had said the worst blasphemy that could be heard.

"Come on, you're a braggart too. Don't act like you're a kind gentleman with exemplary decorum." Leon retorts, crossing his legs as he fixes the buttons on his shirt once more.

Ausdret couldn't help but sigh, trying his best to make Leon understand how problematic it would be to keep all this up.

"Prince, you have a fiancée now. This relationship is no longer suitable." The butler said once again, pausing and emphasizing his lines, it wasn't possible that this was so difficult to understand.

"Well, it'll last as long as I want it to. You know better than that." Leon says, an unparalleled coldness in his voice, it was obvious, this subject was not up for discussion for him.

Ausdret always thought that this was just a youthful romance of Leon's, in fact he never thought that it would thrive for so long, for years. Leon was a man who could have any woman he wanted, not only because of the power he possessed, but also because of his beauty.

However, what the butler couldn't have guessed was that Leon would fall in love with Lady Ashley, a princess from another place. A likely romance, but love doesn't work properly in royalty.

"But Your Highness-" Leon interrupts Ausdret before he can continue.

"I am the prince, and you collaborate with me." Leon begins, his voice becoming an authoritative, voracious whisper.

"As I'm your highness, you must agree that you didn't see anything unusual. That I was on a business trip these last few days." Leon says, his gaze narrowing once more on the servant.

What could Ausdret say? He had always supported this boy, and even with a lump forming in his throat, he wasn't going to do any different again.

The butler knew that this situation wasn't fair to you, nor to Ashley, it would only end up with broken hearts and a quarrel that couldn't be undone.

Perhaps Leon was too young to understand this, but at some point fate would catch up with him.

"So? Did you see anything?" Leon asked, almost daring him to give an answer that was the opposite of what he wanted to hear.

"No, Your Highness. I didn't see anything suspicious." Ausdret replied under his breath, closing his eyes and shaking his head in denial.

"Good." Leon grumbles back.

The journey wouldn't take long, but Ausdret already knew that the rest of the way would be filled with the ache of an inconvenient silence.

You knew you'd end up getting into trouble with your recent actions, but that still didn't stop you from going ahead with them. At that moment you were in the grassy fields on the outskirts of the castle.

It was easy to get here, you just needed the help of Chris and your maid, Evelyn. Nothing more than a silly little lie to disguise your departure.

The view was beautiful, you felt almost at home in a place like this. You were sitting on the horse while Chris guided the animal, walking through the grass carefully while also keeping an eye on you.

You couldn't tell if you were approaching Chris out of hurt ego, or because he was someone incredibly interesting and good to have around.

Perhaps you had combined the useful with the pleasant, because in all honesty, you couldn't deny that you were enjoying all this time with Chris, even feeling more at peace with yourself.

"Well, at least you escaped the tea party." Chris jokes, looking at you with a smile.

You nod, smiling back at him.

"God, I can't imagine what it would be like to spend another afternoon with Mrs. Hisltons!" You grumble, frowning as you remember all the tedious conversations the lady has put you through.

Chris couldn't help himself and laughed out loud, looking at you with those beautiful brown eyes.

"Oh, tell me about it. As soon as I got here, she gave me a good lecture on why I should get married." Chris says with a playful tone, walking slowly with you through the pastures.

You smiled a little, petting the horse as a question popped into your mind.

"But, forgive me for being impolite, but why haven't you gotten married yet?" You asked calmly, giving him the opportunity not to answer if he didn't want to.

"Nothing in particular, I just haven't found any suitors that catch my eye." He says, without much ado, getting straight to the point.

You'd think someone as cultured as him would want a woman who knew a bit more than just dresses and jewelry. Completely fair and understandable.

But you still can't help thinking that Chris was alone by choice, it wouldn't be the first time a man had preferred being alone to being married.

"I understand, but is it something you're thinking of doing? I'm sorry if I'm being intrusive." You say with a peaceful smile, trying to get to know the man you've grown so close to over the last few days.

Chris then paused and pondered, thinking of an answer that would measure up. But he couldn't think of anything more sincere than:

"Yes, I intend to." Just like that, or any other explanation.

But you saw his eyes light up a little when he looked at you for a brief moment, making you quietly gasp.

You then returned your gaze to your surroundings, the countryside that was such a contrast to the life you had. Which was far from peaceful.

Although you knew it shouldn't take you so long to get back to the castle, as they would probably notice you were gone, you could stubbornly stay here with him.

With Chris, the man who had been giving you so much comfort recently.

Chris then looked at you with a charming gaze, helping you off the horse. His hands found your waist, steadying you as you got off the animal.

Feeling his heavy, manly hands on your body made you feel something different, but you preferred not to mention it. Not least because you were being completely inappropriate for a dame.

You allowed yourself to feel the ground beneath your heels, removing the footwear from your body, feeling the grass between your toes.

The thought of returning to your new home was already distant, you could even swear that you forgot about Leon for just a moment. You forgot about the fact that he was coming back today.

And that he would be back around noon. And it was almost two in the afternoon, he was probably already at the castle by then.

But well, what would be the point of sneaking out of the castle with the Duke if not for a bit of confusion.

"You know, this is turning out to be one of the nicest afternoons I've had." Chris says, smiling and following you as you walk across the lawn.

"Oh, yes. It's nice to get out of that place for a bit." You say, looking at the sun, which is already descending.

Chris followed you, keeping an eye on every step. And you even saw out of the corner of your eye that he tried to take your hand, but hesitated to make such an intimate gesture.

You even heard the trumpets sounding in the distance, announcing the prince's arrival, but nothing that made you move from where you were.

And well, from the way Chris stood next to you as you watched the landscape of the field, he wouldn't leave until you asked him to.

At one point, you thought it would be better to leave, perhaps so as not to cause Chris any trouble. But the moment Chris's fingers touched your cheek, and he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear, something in you sparked.

It was impossible to hide the red tinge that appeared on your cheeks, as well as the way you just ignored everything else. Everything seemed right.

You were surrendered, and you didn't want to leave this man's side. What on earth were you doing?

Why did you feel so torn? It couldn't end well.

"Where is she?" It was the first question Leon asked as soon as he set foot in the castle, finding it strange that his fiancée wasn't here to greet him.

"The princess isn't feeling well, Your Highness." Evelyn, the maid who helped you escape, answered.

Leon wrinkled his eyebrows, glancing at the door of your chambers, he hadn't quite believed that excuse.

"Tell her I'll come and see her. She doesn't have to leave her room." Leon says, looking at the way the maid was beginning to shudder.

"She's really not well, Your Highness-" Leon didn't care how much the maid protested, he went ahead and went to your bedroom.

He opened the door without any manners, looking around as he searched for any sign of you. But he was disappointed when he found your bed empty, the room perfectly tidy and untouched. You hadn't been in that room for a while.

Your lie was already falling apart, as they say lies don't go far.

"Where is she?" Leon asked once again, this time more coldly and authoritatively, demanding an answer.

"I don't know! She was here this morning." The maid manages to stutter, unable to face Leon.

Leon clenched his fists, frustration and irritation taking over his feelings. You were getting out of hand, it wasn't enough that you'd been so bold with Chris, now this?

Even though he was away, he knew everything that was going on in that castle, and he couldn't let it continue the way it was.

Who did you think you were?

"Have her searched all over the castle." Leon demanded, leaving your room to look for you.

As soon as Leon saw that the maid hadn't moved a muscle, he added:

"Immediately." His voice was a low grunt, capable of sending a chill down anyone's spine.

The maid moved quickly, warning the other servants about the princess's 'disappearance', and they all stood by to look for you.

Nothing. They looked for you in every corner of that castle, every room, every space you could be in. And they found nothing, not a single sign of you.

Leon was fulminating, realizing that you and the Duke weren't in that castle. And you probably weren't close.

"We haven't found her, Your Highness. The princess isn't in the castle." One of the servants dares to speak, trembling at having to address the prince.

"What do you mean she's not in the castle?" Leon muttered, looking out the windows while trying to find you somehow.

And Leon had to stop himself from gritting his teeth as he watched the scene with his own eyes. You came in through the back door, a delicate hood over your head to disguise your identity.

You were sitting on Chris's horse, smiling happily as the man led the horse inside. You seemed so close, so intimate.

Something about it made Leon go crazy, he can't say, but some strange feeling rose in his chest and made a knot form in the pit of his stomach.

What were you thinking? You were a lady, Jesus! You should behave like one.

"You are dismissed, return to your duties." Leon says to the other servants, leaving no room for questions.

Drastic situations call for drastic measures, only then will you be able to understand your place. And how you should act as a future queen.

Leon waited, right in the center of the main hall, he decided he would act as if he hadn't seen anything. He felt his breathing quicken, heard the sound of his heartbeat in his ears.

He didn't know if it was anger, disappointment or something else.

You didn't realize he was there until you saw the pair of blue eyes looking you up and down, for some reason sending a shiver up your spine.

"I was worried about you." He was the first to speak, approaching you without a second thought.

"Excuse me, Your Highness. I needed some fresh air." You say, your voice smooth as silk, sweet as honey.

You needed to act as if nothing much had really happened, as if you hadn't gone off with the Duke alone, without letting anyone know.

Even more so, going out alone with a man.

Leon narrows his eyes, placing a hand on your waist, pulling you close. His touch made you gasp, your eyes widen and your breathing hitch, at the same moment you felt your breath mingle with his.

For a moment, you looked at each other, his penetrating gaze causing an incomparable flush to rise to your cheeks. His hands on your body, one holding your cheek, steadying you to do what he wanted to do.

What was he going to do? Oh, you realized it in the next second, when you saw his face coming closer to yours. His nose touching yours, and then, that's when…

He kissed you.

His lips against yours, his hand holding you firmly and preventing you from moving. It was unconscious, instinctive, you moved your lips in sync with his. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and you sealed this moment with the warm intimacy of a kiss.

It wasn't sincere, it was carnal.

The world around you seemed to stop, you were focused on the warm feeling that took over your body, the way the heat of the moment enveloped you. Your body molded itself to his so well, it was so perfect.

As if it was meant to be.

It was painful to separate your lips from his, your mind in a whirlwind of emotions. Was it real? Had he reconsidered? Maybe he was going to give you both a chance?

You were a very dreamy girl perhaps, those endless dreams that you wished from the bottom of your soul were real, that you clamored for to come true at some point.

But oh, that little act, it was far from a dream.

When you regained your senses, you looked around and saw a group of high-class ladies staring at the two of you. The dreamy looks and sighs they gave when they saw the couple, the passionate couple.

In the corner, you saw the king and queen, smiling approvingly at the two of you. They were proud.

A show off.

Reality weighed heavily on your mind when you understood. It was nothing, it was a show off, an exhibition. The momentary magic wore off and gave way to the bitterness that once again fell upon you.

Whose fault was it? Yours, for having once again believed in the foolishness that was Leon's chance of seeing you beyond being a prize. Or Leon, for toying with you in such a way?

In any case, what a shame. The taste of his lips was imprinted on yours, the sensation of his lips against yours was still so vivid. So real. You felt loved in a few seconds, putting yourself in your place soon after.

With one simple action, Leon reminded you of who you belong to, legally, and also reminded you of your place. Of your obligations to him, he came out the winner once again.

Damned bastard.

[maidragoste]

The Strong Twins

Harwin Strong x Velaryon!Reader (unrequited love), Alicent Hightower x Velaryon!Reader, Larys Strong x Velaryon!Reader

Part 4 of this

Part 5

Serie Masterlist

Sorry for taking so long to update I was busy with the university 😭

I hope the wait was worth it and that you like this new chapter🥰🥰💖💖

comments, reblogs, likes are always greatly appreciated. I will always thank you for supporting this series 🥰💖 because I really did not expect so many people to like it

My inbox is open so I'm always willing to read your headcanons, opinions and answer your questions. I seriously love reading your headcanons and thoughts, it makes me happy 🥰💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

Despite your coldness and the distance between you two, Harwin still cared about you. That's why when the servants woke him up in the middle of the night to tell him that you went into labor, he got nervous. You didn't let him be by your side while you gave birth, the only people you allowed to enter your chambers, besides the midwives, were your mother, your sister, and the queen. Rhaenyra also wanted to accompany you but the queen did not hesitate to close the door in her face.

Harwin wasn't the only one awake hoping that you'd finish the delivery and everything would turn out okay. Accompanying him in his chambers were his father, his brother, Corlys, Laenor, Daemon, and Rhaenyra. Your father had brought wine so everyone was drinking trying to ignore their worries about things that could go wrong.

The truth is Harwin felt uncomfortable by the presence of Daemon and Rhaenyra. He didn't understand why the man was there with them, yes Daemon was married to Laena but the prince could easily have continued sleeping. He had no obligation to be awake waiting to hear from you and the baby… Unless he was the father of your child and your new lover. Harwin shook his head and stopped drinking, the drink and his nerves were making him think of stupid things. He knew that you loved your sister and would never do anything to hurt her.

Normally Rhaenyra's presence always made him feel warm and gave him some kind of peace of mind but right now he wanted her away. At first, the atmosphere in his chambers was "calm" but that calm disappeared when a furious and injured Rhaenyra entered after you yelled at her that you didn't want her near her and that she will let you give birth in peace. The room was now tense. Corlys Velaryon was looking at them both angrily. Even his own father was glaring at them furiously. He knew that they expected him to drive the princess away but he couldn't do it.

The only person who didn't seem furious with him was his brother. Harwin didn't expect Larys to be next to him and appreciated it, he was sure he would continue sleeping but he appeared next to his father and sat next to him. He didn't say a word of comfort or try to distract him with a conversation, Larys had never been that kind of person but with his presence, he was already giving him silent support. Larys even didn't make fun of him when he spent the first hour pacing all over the room.

Your screams were heard again, and Larys was tempted to pour himself another glass of wine, but he didn't. He had to be sober when he met his son. He would start as a bad father if he was drunk when he first saw the baby. Besides he knew that if he turned up drunk you would be furious and kick his ass or you could ignore him for weeks.

Larys is not a fearful or nervous person. He couldn't remember when was the last time he had felt fear, nervousness, or anxiety. He knew it was foolish to feel that, you are a strong woman, you can fly on a dragon and he is sure that you are capable of defeating any man from the city guard, the birthing bed would not kill you. Besides, your mother took it upon herself to bring the best midwives to King's Landing to help you in the delivery and Alicent was by your side, she would never allow anything to go wrong.

He knew you would be fine but still, a small part of him was anxious. He hated feeling like this. He wanted to go to the black cells and torture someone until that horrible feeling disappeared. He wanted to stop hearing your screams and listen to the prisoners' screams as he pulled their teeth out. But then again, you'd be mad at him for doing other things instead of going to meet his kid.

It felt unreal. Larys never imagined that he would have a child. No father wanted to marry his daughter to a cripple and on top of that with a second son who was not going to inherit anything, so he never thought that he would marry and have children. And Larys was fine with it because kids in general were fucking annoying. But then Harwin neglected you and he managed to captivate you so you gave him a chance. It was not in his plans that you would end up pregnant. But it wasn't a problem, you looked happy even though he noticed that you were disappointed by his lack of reaction when you gave him the news. He wouldn't say specifically that he was happy but he could say that he was proud, proud that he had done what Harwin couldn't, and now the Strong line would run through his blood. Proud to see how happy you were as the child grew in your womb. He couldn't deny that he liked to see how happy you looked while you and Alicent sewed blankets for the baby. He also liked hearing how excited you were as you talked about the names you had in mind for the child. He would never forget the smile on your face when you took his and Alicent's hands and made them feel like kicking the baby for the first time. You looked happier than he had seen you in years. He was the one who made you happy, not Harwin.

The door was flung open and Laena appeared with a big smile. "Everything went well."

Of course, Harwin was the first to run for your chambers. Soon Corlys, Laenor, and Rhaenyra followed. They were looking forward to seeing you. They needed to see for themselves that you were okay.

Larys remained seated. Although he wanted to go see you, he knew he had to wait a while. It would be striking that he was so eager to meet his nephew.

"What are you waiting for? She wants us all there" Laena said walking in seeing that Daemon, Lyonel, and Larys didn't seem willing to leave the room. Larys was sure Laena gave him the longest look when she said "everyone" and as if she couldn't be more obvious she moved to his side "Come on, go meet your nephews" she commanded as she squeezed hard his shoulder. Perhaps from the outside, it looked like an affectionate gesture but he could feel how your sister was digging her fingers into him.

Laena had only found out about the romance between the two of you because your sister didn't know what privacy was and entered your chambers without knocking on the door. Even Alicent's children knew to knock on the door and get the other person's permission before entering a room that didn't belong to them.

After you two get dressed again, Larys had to endure some questioning from Laena. He thought he had had enough of her when "the Queen Who Never Was" forced him to join her at her tea time to talk about his relationship with you. He preferred the cold stare of a Rhaenys Targaryen to Laena's endless questions.

"I'm sure you are excited to meet your grandchildren too, Lord Strong," Laena added to avoid drawing Daemon's attention. She knew that you would never forgive her if she let your secret slip. She loved Daemon but you and Laenor came first.

“Grandchildren?” Lyonel repeated, shocked to have more than one grandchild.

"Twins," Laena replied, still smiling.

That was enough for both Larys and his father to get up and head to your chambers. On another occasion, Lyonel would have lightened his step considering the limp of his son but this time he was excited. Twins were not common in the Strong family.

Larys felt even more proud of you two but also a little anxious. He was just getting used to the idea of a single baby. Now there would be two of them and he had to work to make them both like him. What if they are identical twins and he couldn't tell them apart? Would you tell him that he is a bad father because of that? What if Harwin manages to distinguish them? Would that make you forgive his brother? He put those stupid thoughts aside the moment he saw Rhaenyra grumbling outside your door. Evidently, again they had not let her in.

“Princess, you should go rest. Lady Strong must be too tired to receive any more visitors. She will surely receive you tomorrow. We don't want to overwhelm the mother right now, right?" he said before opening the door and going inside, ignoring the incredulous look that the king's eldest daughter gave him for daring to throw her out.

The moment you saw Larys walk in, your face lit up. You had wanted him to be with you during the birth but it would clearly have been conspicuous in court for him to be at your side instead of Harwin. At least you could have Alicent next to you, she took it upon herself to wipe the sweat from your forehead and neck, clearly, that was a maiden's job, not a queen's, but no one said anything, and she let you take her hand without any complaints even though you were sure it would have marks from your nails. The presence of your lover, your mother, and your sister made the situation not so terrible. Without them, you probably would have been even more terrified.

The midwives had already left so now you could talk freely, with just the family.

"Come, my lord, meet your children," you said surprising everyone. You knew that Larys and your mother will argue with you for revealing the true paternity of your children, but you didn't care. You wanted Harwin and Lyonel to know that it would be Larys' blood that would carry on the Strong legacy. You were sure that both kept the secret. The Strongs needed an heir and you gave them two. Besides, despite Harwin's infidelity, he had some honor and you knew he would never do anything to hurt a child.

Larys wanted to be mad at you. You just put the children and yourself in danger. His father could order you and Harwin to go to Harrenhal to prevent you from continuing your relationship. Harwin might eventually tell the princess the truth. What you just did was stupid. Like it was stupid that he couldn't stop thinking about how beautiful you looked while you were carrying his son. He should be thinking about how to prevent his father from pushing you away or Harwin from opening his mouth but he could only think about you and the children. He loves you but sometimes he hated how stupid and weak you make him.

Harwin felt as if someone had repeatedly stabbed him in the chest at your words, confirming what he already knew. Larys was the father of your twins. He knew it the moment he saw Aethan's blue eye and the love in your eyes when his brother appeared. You used to look at him that way.

Now he understood why Larys had accompanied him all these hours, his brother was also worried about you and now he was the owner of your heart and with whom you share your bed. Harwin wished he could fool himself into thinking you were only doing this for revenge but he could see the love you had for Larys as you patiently explained how to properly restrain the children. Seeing them as a happy family caused pain in his heart. He always wished his brother happiness but he never imagined that it would be at his own expense. He couldn't be happy for Larys when those children were supposed to be his. You are his wife. He should be the one by your side as you proudly present Alyn to Lyonel as the future Lord of Harrenhal, not Larys.

Lyonel's eldest son knew that the gods were making him live this nightmare because he deserved it after all the pain and humiliation his romance with Rhaenyra caused you. But it seemed cruel to him that the gods had made the children look like he always dreamed his children would look like with you. He always imagined that they would have your beautiful silver hair and your mouth but they would have his nose and his eyes. The twins had slightly lighter skin than yours but there was no doubt that your blood had been stronger because they both have little silver locks, your mouth, and your beautiful brown eyes. Except Aethan also has an eye the same color as Larys'. That eye would always be a reminder to Harwin of who the father of your children really was.

Daemon entered your chambers together with your sister, finding Lyonel and Corlys holding their grandchildren without having any idea that he missed the Strong children's paternity reveal. Thankfully Laena had managed to distract him long enough for you and Larys to have a moment with your children.

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[ellecdc]

While I don't like to spend time feeding into negativity on my page, I received a rude/aggressive comment which, though it had been sent to me anonymously, I have reason to suspect who it might have been from; so while I'm not going to broadcast it, it prompted something that I would like to remind anyone who might need it [which is truly maybe only 0.02% of you]

I have been on this app for 4 months; I have gotten hundreds [if not thousands] of asks sent to me during that time and I have always made a solid effort to respond to anyone and everyone who has taken time out of their day to reach out to me or even leave comments on my fics because it truly means the world to me

Over the past 4 months and throughout the hundred [or thousands] of asks and just as many comments and messages, I have only ever received 2 negative/rude/insulting asks - both were sent anonymously, one I had responded to and one I have blocked

And while this blog has grown bigger than I have ever imagined possible for myself and I now receive the most number of asks and requests than I ever had before, I continue to try to stay active, diligent in my responses, and enthusiastic in my chats and conversations with you all

I will admit that I have many unanswered asks in my inbox right now from a large number of my mutuals, listed anons, and many more requests that I have been saving for when the inspiration hits - I cannot respond to everyone and everything all of the time and for the most part, people have been very understanding about that

Sometimes I save chats for later when I have the headspace for it, sometimes I'll answer on the whim, and sometimes I save simple chats that I actually think would make for a good fic idea!

But it's important to note that I don't owe anyone the explanation I just gave to you all

The people that you interact with on this app are just that - people

People who have good days and bad days, people who have jobs and lives and loved ones who take precedence, and people who don't actually owe you anything

This is true whether you're a mutual, whether you're a dutiful fan, whether you're a listed anon, or otherwise - blogs don't owe you anything

They don't owe you a response, they don't owe you their time or energy, and they don't owe you their 110% every time you interact with them

I give my best to every single person I have spoken to on here, and some days my best is better than other days. Sometimes I get so excited when I'm out with friends or at work when I notice an ask from someone - mutual, anon, or otherwise - that I reply immediately because I just cannot wait to chat. This means I'm not always sitting down at my computer and able to give every single response the same amount of time or effort because I am a) busy, b) perhaps a little distracted and c) human

But I don't owe anyone that explanation either

This blog has always felt like a super niche book club filled with likeminded people who loved the same things I do, loved the same characters that I do, and who enjoyed chatting about it. It has also felt like a fun and wholesome community that I am happy to be apart of

And while I like to think that my blog is a safe space for everyone and anyone who might want to visit it; it's a safe space for me first

This blog is my space and my safe haven; you are welcome to it - but that welcome is a privilege, not a right - and I am not obligated to cater it to you

Like I said, I have only ever received two rude asks, but even though 99.98% of my messages are positive, the negative ones feel the loudest

Please think before you send criticizing asks to any blog; the 'saddest' thing of all is being both cowardly and cruel to people you don't know

& again, as always, thank you all for being here with me 🫶

-L

[bonesxbows]

The World Ender (Tyler Owens X Reader)

You have some ideas on how to help heal the environment, but your hopefulness is shot down before it can even get off the ground. Tyler believes in you, but will that be enough? Or will you have to watch another tornado rip apart people's livelihoods?

(WARNINGS) - Climate change mentioned - Storm chasing - Storm damage described - Depressing themes - Sexism/Bullying

This is a two-part project for school so if you read this one please go read the other part titled Stronger Than a Storm! I would also greatly appreciate it if yall could leave your thoughts and how this made you feel down in the comments as it would help with my project! Either way, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

-

Crystal Springs.

Stillwater.

El Reno.

Three towns utterly destroyed by a funnel cloud of destruction. Three towns that would forever be scarred by one of nature’s most powerful forces. Three towns that had no warning and not enough time to prepare before all hell broke loose around them.

Three towns you, Tyler, and the crew had spent days in during the aftermath to help as many people as you could get their lives somewhat put back together.

To say it left an impression on you would be an understatement.

None of you were personally affected, you were all still safe and in one piece, but you would be slung into a depressive slump for days after helping a town. Tyler hated seeing you so upset and had even suggested letting you stay back while the rest of them went to help but you shot down the idea the moment it left his throat. Sitting back and doing nothing would make you feel even worse, you explained to him. You felt an obligation to do what you could, the sights were just heartbreaking. You wanted to do even more.

But you were just one person. Even if you got the whole gang together to help what could a rag-tag bunch of college drop-outs do to stop nature’s wrath?

And boy was she wrathful this week. Another EF4 plowed through a town, not far from where your motel was for the night. You had the news on the old TV and you were stooped on the edge of the bed watching as the pictures of total chaos and destruction were being shown. They were talking about another outbreak forming, being fueled by the sudden heatwave Oklahoma was having. More devastation, more heartbreak, more lives turned upside down and ruined. Tyler came out of the bathroom just as they switched to the radar section of their weather forecasting. A towel was wrapped around his waist and his hair was dripping water down his face, but you were so focused on the broadcast that you didn’t notice.

A feeling of dread washed over you as the man in an overly pressed suit explained that the heat dome would provide an abundance of fuel for these storms, causing them to spin up quickly and without warning. There was no way to tell where they would hit or what the severity would be until it was too late to get warnings out to people. He was urging everyone to be on high alert for any signs of thunderstorms and to take precautions even if they looked non-threatening at first. He was pointing out what could be a potential hot spot when the TV flickered off, leaving you staring at your own reflection on the black screen.

“Hey!” You shouted, your eyes flickering up to Tyler standing next to the old box TV, his finger still on the off button. “That was important!”

“No, it wasn’t. The only thing it’s doing is giving you anxiety. You can’t stop them from happening so why are you even dwellin’ on it?” He fiddled around inside of his backpack as he talked to you, a fist still clenched around the ends of the towel draped around him.

“I don’t know…what if there is something we can do, just nobody’s thought of it yet?”

“You're one of the smartest gals I know, if someone’s gonna come up with an idea to disrupt tornadoes it’ll be you, but beating yourself up over not having the answers right now ain’t gonna help anyone.” He had found what he was looking for, a set of clothes inside of his bag, and he headed back to the bathroom to change, leaving you alone to your thoughts and the silence the turned-off TV had left.

The next day was spent chasing small spin-ups and recording, though not much of the footage was useable. Most views came from uploads with excitement, no one was going to watch Tyler chase around dust devils that were gone before they were even on the ground, leaving the whole crew feeling defeated by the end of the day.

But the rest of Oklahoma wasn't so lucky.

Another EF4 had destroyed a town not far from where your motel was for the night and you had begged Tyler to go and help. It was late, you were all tired and frustrated, but he couldn’t say no to you. So into town the two of you went, sorting through wreckage, searching for lost children and pets, and using Tyler’s truck to tow out buried vehicles; helping wherever you could. It was 3am by the time you left to head back to the motel, but you had no intention of sleeping anytime soon, despite Tyler beckoning you to join him in the bed every half hour. Instead of sleeping, you propped yourself up at the desk in the room with a notebook and flashlight, scribbling down ideas, calculations, and plans. Tyler’s calls ended about an hour after you had settled into the chair, being replaced by the sound of soft snores instead. The next morning you woke up with your head on the same desk, your phone dead from the flashlight being on all night and drool covering half of your markings in the notebook. Though there was now a flannel draped over your shoulders that hadn’t been there when you had fallen asleep. You recognized the orange and brown tones, along with the scent of cologne that drifted off of the collar.

You threw the flannel on over your clothes from the day before and stepped outside to find the rest of the gang already clustered around the unfolded tailgate of Tyler’s truck. He spotted you immediately, breaking away from the group and walking towards you.

“You know I saved a pillow for you last night, would’ve been more comfortable than that desk.” he teased, reaching up and running his fingers through the crown of your hair. You could feel him smoothing flyaways down and picking small knots out, suddenly making you feel conscious about the way your hair must have looked after sleeping on a table. You curled inward, wanting to make yourself appear smaller so no one would look at you. He noticed and instinctively moved in front of you to shield you from everyone else outside. You wiped your face with the sleeves of his flannel, which you were still wearing, while he finished up on your hair, making it just a little less unruly. You mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him and he nodded in understanding. “What was up with all those notes anyway?” he asked as you wiped the sleep from your eyes.

“I was brainstorming, thinking about ways we could help stop these storms instead of just helping during the aftermath.”

“Come up with anything good?” he caught a sparkle in your eyes after his question. It would make your ideas feel a little less daunting if he believed they weren’t as insane as they sounded in your head.

“Well, I-”

“You really think you can make a difference? You're one bimbo in the middle of Oklahoma, ain’t no way no one’s gonna listen to you. Get your head out of the clouds before you hurt yourself.” you whipped around to face the new voice and found a haggardly-looking older man leaning over the railing of the outdoor walkway, his beer belly pressing against the metal bars as he bummed a cigarette in one hand, ash falling into his scraggly beard.

Tyler immediately wanted to rush forward and confront the man but you placed a forceful hand on his chest before he could make a move. His face was scrunched up like a charging bull as his eyes shot daggers, but when you placed your other hand on his cheek and guided him to look at you instead his eyes softened.

“No, Ty, don’t. It’s not worth it,” you whispered to him, causing him to huff aggressively. He dropped his anger down to a reasonable level and placed a hand on the small of your back, leading you away from the area. But not before he turned his head and spit towards the other man, not hesitating to let him know just what Tyler thought about him.

He guided you back to your shared motel room, knowingly abandoning the chasing team outside for now. But they would understand, whether they liked it or not they all knew Tyler put you above his profession.

You made way for the bed that you had neglected all night long, propping yourself up on the edge and cringing inward, wanting to disappear into the mattress. Without consciously meaning to you wrapped your arms around yourself and folded your spine, curling inward towards your own lap.

“Unbelievable. What an asshole.” Tyler was pacing by the window, rambling to himself in anger. You let him have his moment, preferring him to blow up in the seclusion of the motel room rather than starting a fight with a stranger over you.

“Tyler,” you called out to him, trying to grab his attention, but your words came out too softly for him to hear over his internal outrage.

“You should’ve let me at least say somethin’.” he continued on.

“Tyler.” you tried again, a little louder this time.

“Who does that guy think he is anyway, talking to a lady that way?” he always had a habit of being as oblivious as a child when he was upset.

“Tyler!” you shouted this time, definitely catching his attention as he turned towards you abruptly.

“I’m so sorry, baby, are you okay?” he took a seat next to you on the bed, now all of his attention focused on you. His hand instinctively went for the small of your back, holding you close to him.

“What if he was right?” You blurted out, not responding to his question. Your eyes were glued to the floor, your head spinning like the tornadoes Tyler chased for a living.

“What? No. Listen to me sweetheart, people like that have to bring others down just to feel better about themselves. You can do anything you set that pretty little mind to, I know you can. If this idea of yours is important to you then let’s do something about it. Don’t let one stranger crush your dreams.”

You absorbed his words, sitting as still as a boulder as he talked. When you didn’t respond or even acknowledge what he had said he called out your name.

“I…I need a moment to think. Please. Why don’t you go with the crew and I’ll meet up with you after the chase.”

He placed a hand under your chin and gently guided your face to look at him instead of the floor which your gaze seemed to be stuck to. The second you locked eyes with him he almost wished he hadn’t; your eyes were filtered over and tears were welling in the corners. You looked dead, beaten, and defeated. The sight broke his heart.

Yours broke too at the way his eyes were pleading with you to just talk to him. ‘Don’t shut me out,’ you could read in the way his face crinkled around his eyes and brow. But you couldn’t find the words. You just wanted to be alone. You tore your gaze from his before tears could well in your eyes again, resorting to going back to staring at the carpeted floor beneath your feet.

You could hear him sigh in defeat. There was no changing your mind when you were upset, and he knew that. “Alright. But I’ll be right outside if you change your mind. I’m not just gonna leave you here by yourself all day.” He got up from the bed and gently brushed your hair out of your face, tucking the strands behind your ear as he leaned down to plant a soft kiss on the top of your head. You kept your head down, refusing to look at him as he slowly opened the motel door, hoping you would change your mind before he walked out. But you didn’t, and the door was shut behind him as you could hear his boots hit the concrete.

It would be a few days before Tyler could persuade you back into his truck to join on another chase, but eventually, you found your rightful spot in the passenger seat again, your hand clasped tightly in his on top of his lap as he drove full speed towards another spin up. You both watched with baited breath as the black inky clouds swirled overhead. She formed quickly, making ground contact within seconds. Tyler had to move fast, faster than he anticipated, just to get the augers in the ground before the now monster-sized tornado made her way for the two of you.

He was too slow by mere seconds.

The augers hadn’t made it in the dirt completely before the truck was in the center of the wind-whipping cyclone. She was threatening to toss the truck like a toy, her chassis shaking like the inside of a blender, jostling everything around, including the two of you. Tyler reached over the center console and shielded your head with his body as best as he could, holding you tightly as the truck continued to shake violently. Tears appeared in your eyes uncontrollably. You didn't feel frightened, you knew that Tyler would protect you from anything, but yet the terror of being thrashed around inside a large vehicle seemed to shock your nervous system, causing your body to act on its own accord.

Within a minute it was all over, the tornado had become bored with the two of you and moved on to form its own path. You were shaking and Tyler immediately grabbed your hand again, running his thumb over the back of your palm trying to soothe you.

“I’m okay,” you told him, reassuring him that you weren’t totally shaken up or hurt. You could see a little bit of worry melt from his face.

“I’m so sorry, baby. That was way too close.”

You placed your other hand on the side of his face and his eyes flickered to yours. You gave him the most forgiving smile you could muster. “It’s alright, Ty. We’re both okay and that’s what matters. You couldn’t have known the path she was gonna take or-”

A loud static emitted from down by your feet, making you jump and cutting you off mid-sentence. You reached down, rummaging around through all of the clutter that had been dislodged and tossed around by the tornado, and eventually found what had made the noise; the walkie-talkies the Wrangler crew used to communicate.

You held the button down and called out to whoever had tried to reach the two of you before. The callback was staticy but the message was clear.

“She’s shifted significantly, I repeat, she’s shifted towards Marietta!”

All of the color drained from your face. The walkie-talkie fell out of your hand and landed back on the floor. Marietta. Home to at least a couple thousand people. And now a monster was headed right for them.

“Tyler we have to go. Right now.”

“Way ahead of you sweetheart,” he replied while slamming the gas pedal down to the floor. His truck took off, speeding through the fields and flying over the uneven ground. You kept your eyes on the mass of black and dark grey still swirling on the horizon. You could see the visible scar she was leaving behind in the nearby corn fields; corn stalks and dirt and farm debris scattered around in her wake.

It was minutes before the outskirts of the town appeared in your field of vision.

But it was already too late.

He had to slam on the breaks before he collided with a flipped-over car in the middle of the road. Several cars, in fact, strewn all over the two-lane road in various states of wreckage. You threw the door of the truck open and jumped out as soon as she came to a complete stop. Everything around you was ruined. Houses, buildings, cars, pieces of people's lives tossed around like trash. You were speechless. And heartbroken.

Tyler was by your side in an instant, placing a hand on the small of your back to ground you. It didn't work. You bursted into tears, covering your mouth with your hand to stop yourself from screaming.

This wasn’t your hometown. You didn't know anyone here personally. But yet you were devastated as if this had been your childhood home.

He held you close, trying to soothe you. He knew you would react badly, but you had never broken down this much before. “There was nothing more we could’ve done, baby. I got here as fast as I could.”

“I know, I know. I don’t blame you, but…I could have done more. I should have done more. Maybe…maybe if I had done something, anything, this wouldn't have been so…overwhelming.” you wrapped your arms around yourself, overcome with guilt.

“Sweetheart, you can’t control the weather. None of us can.”

You wanted to believe him, you really did, but there was something deep down inside of you that insisted this was your fault. It was a nagging feeling like a worm of guilt was eating you alive. You could have done something, recycled more, or reduced your carbon emissions maybe. Having done anything beforehand would have made you feel just a little less useless now in the aftermath. No amount of comfort was going to fix the fact that you had done nothing, absolutely nothing to lessen the burden this disaster would have on thousands of people’s lives. How many more funnel clouds of fury would have to wipe out whole towns before something was done?

You would have to live with that guilt. Somehow.

[lostbetweenvampiresandmusic]

BESTIE could I get prompt 18 (if you’re still doing these prompts)

18. "You're legally obligated to keep holding me." with Marko and a casually clingy reader who most people assume they’re nonchalant and then Marko ALWAYS has them on him at some point?👀

Yes, of course! I hope you like this one, love!💜

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

If you had asked on the boardwalk about me, people probably would have said that I was cold. Distant. Cool. As if nothing bothered me. I mean, most people that I would have interacted with would have said that I was kind enough, I'm sure. But besides that, no - I kind of perfected the whole "I don't get bothered by anything, I don't need anyone, everything is going to go my way anyways and if not it still is" vibe. I owned it. And yet, behind that nonchalance, deep down inside, I knew that I wanted something else. I wanted someone to give me a reason. Someone who made me care. Who saw me, knew me, and was willing to stand beside me.

Luckily, about six months ago, I think I met that someone. He was careless and had a hint of danger around him. He seemed to live on messing with people. He lived for the thrill of the chase - or at least, that's what it looked like. When we met, he had tried to pickpocket me, and I had - just to see if I could - tried the same thing. On him. So there we were, looking at each other, hands in each others pocket.

"Bit cosy for someone whose name I don't even know," I commented, causing him to grin.

"How about we keep those hands empty and hand each other some names, hm?"

"Sure," I grinned, introducing myself. He, in turn, did the same. Marko - that was his name, and in all honesty, it suited him.

In the days that followed, we kept running into each other, and soon after, we became a thing. There was no need for any specific names to define what we were. It was simple. Before, we were a separate 'Him' and 'Me', and now there simply was an 'us'.

When we got together, I slowly started to realise that I liked being close to him. When riding around on his bike, I always scooted a little bit closer than absolutely necessary. Just to be closer to him. When eating out, I noticed that at the end of the meal, my chair would basically be next to his, our arms touching with every move we'd make. I didn't know why. It just happened.

Now, whenever I was with him, I was close with him. Holding hands, him slipping his hand in my back pocket, or the other way around. Leaning into him whenever we were hanging with the boys, playing with his hair while watching a movie. I was always near him, always touching him - and thankfully, he didn't seem to mind one bit. On the contrary, he seemed to like it.

Tonight, it was just the two of us. I had gone out to rent some movies. Marko had told me that he had never seen the Texas Chainsaw Massacre or The Exorcist. So, I had rented them from Max' Videos, and made sure we could watch them together. I'd also bought some snacks, ranging from popcorn to crisps and chocolates, and he'd promised to bring takeout.

"What do you want to watch first?" I asked as Marko sat down on the couch, handing me a carton with noodles.

"Exorcist? I remember that people went crazy for that one."

I chuckled, putting it on and enjoying my meal. That was until Reagan began to throw up. I was mid bite when the green vomit covered the screen, landing on the poor priests face - and when I felt my own bile rise up in my throat. I groaned, running to the toilet, sighing as I realised that this scene never sat well with me - and wondering how I could have forgotten it.

"Babe?" Marko stood in the doorway, making sure I was okay.

"Sorry about that," I smiled, but I was certain it looked more like a grimace.

"Shit happens," he shrugged, "do you want to watch something else?"

I shook my head. "Besides this scene proving otherwise," I motioned around, "I do quite enjoy the movie."

"Good," he grinned, helping me up. He handed me my toothbrush before leaning in the doorway, waiting for me to be ready.

"Are you sure about the movie?" He asked once we were seated again. The movie was paused at another scene, the worst being over. I nodded, smiling at him.

"One condition, though."

"Yeah? Which is?"

"You are legally obligated to keep holding me."

"As comfort or as protection for potential demons?" He asked as he moved me closer to him, covering me with a blanket.

"How about both?" I looked up, smiling.

"I think I can deal with both," he grinned, holding me as he started the movie again.

[hischierswhore]

compression shirt

pairing: Christian Pulisic x Reader

TW: NSFW // 18+ ONLY // minors dni // f!receiving oral sex // unprotected sex // pet names (princess) // dom!christian // sub!reader

A/N: based on the post-match video of Christian in his compression shirt. it did things to me. it changed me. also i don't usually write smut, so this is pretty bad BUT i felt obligated to write about that damn shirt

Chelsea just won their 3rd match in a row, winning today's match 1-3. Your boyfriend, Christian, was playing in the 2nd half of the match. You watched as the team celebrated their victory before heading off the pitch. Moments before they headed inside the changing rooms, you caught a glimpse of your boyfriend without his jersey, leaving him in his beige compression shirt, which emphasized his muscles.

Your jaw dropped slightly at the sight, involuntarily letting out a gasp, which attracted the attention of a few of those around you. The way he looked was like something straight out of a Calvin Klein underwear ad: except if Calvin Klein had compression shirts.

You watched as he ran into the changing room before everyone else. You quickly collected your bag and made your way to the exit, where you knew he would be waiting for you.

By the time the rest of the team entered the changing room, Christian was already done showering. He kept his compression shirt on, as it was comfortable. When it seemed like all the other players had gone in for their showers, he took the opportunity to sneak out and leave the room.

As he made his way to the exit, he spotted you. His face lit up when he saw you approach. He looked happy. And sexy. You couldn't help but smile back at him as you stared at his body. The way the shirt accentuated his muscles and abs had you feeling things.

"What?" Christian asked as he could see you staring.

"Do I have something on my shirt?" He questioned playfully. You just gave him a soft kiss on the lips and shook your head no.

"I really like this shirt" You lightly pulled at the material that clung to his skin, while lightly running your fingers over his abs.

"Oh really? I hadn't noticed" He teased as you rolled your eyes and grabbed his hand, leading him to the car.

"Someone's in a rush" He commented as you began to drive home, giving him a look that told him to shut the hell up.

You drove to Christian's flat with only one thought in mind, which was the man sitting next to you and his muscles. As soon as he opened the door, you practically jumped on him and pushed him inside, pressing him against the wall.

Your eyes locked onto his muscles again, and you didn't notice anything else, besides how hard his body was pressing against yours. Your hands went right to his muscular chest and you let them roam freely over his abs. It was when your hands went lower that he stopped you, flipping you both over so he was now in control of the situation.

He now had you pressed up against the wall, his hands roaming freely over your body. The feeling was mutual, since he too had wanted nothing more than to touch you all day. Every inch of your body felt incredible to him.

You let out a moan as he let his lips trail down your neck, softly biting down on the sensitive skin. You could feel yourself getting turned on by what he was doing to you.

A tingle spread through your entire body from his ministrations, almost making you come instantly. Christian seemed to sense it because his movements suddenly stopped, and you were now being carried to his bedroom.

As he put you down on the bed, you could barely keep your eyelids open as you got used to having him hovering over you. He carefully removed your clothing, discarding it on the floor.

You felt his hands go to your breasts, and you moaned at the contact. The sensation made your whole body tremble, yet also aroused you even further. It was then that Christian started kissing down your stomach, until finally he moved between your legs.

He leaned forward, breathing hot air onto your most intimate parts, making you shiver. He then licked the crease of your thigh, before moving to kiss your inner thigh, making you shudder even more.

His tongue trailed slowly across your wet folds, and his hand slowly slid between your thighs, moving upward toward your sex. His finger curled gently around your clit, eliciting another gasp from you. He sucked on your clit, making you jump, and your hips lifted toward him as you cried out in pleasure.

"You're this wet because of a shirt?"

"Mainly the person wearing the shirt" You managed to get out.

Christian chuckled, knowing exactly what he was doing to you. He wanted to make you lose control, wantonly grinding on his finger as it traveled from your entrance, up to your opening, before going back down to your clit.

After a few seconds, he withdrew his finger and mouth from your already sensitive area, causing you to gasp at the sudden loss of contact. You pulled away from you and began undressing himself, intentionally keeping his compression shirt on.

He noticed how your eyes never left his body, burning holes into the tight material he wore, causing a smirk to spread across his face.

He hovered over once again, kissing you passionately for a few moments.

"Chris, I need you" You whispered against his lips, grabbing hold of his hair and pulling his head back slightly.

He kissed you once more before aligning himself with your entrance. You felt his cock throbbing against your thigh, and a jolt of electricity shot through your body as he pushed himself into you.

You arched your back as you closed your eyes tightly, feeling your body tighten around his girth. Your legs immediately wrapped themselves around his back, urging him deeper. He thrust himself forward, hitting your walls with ease. He began sliding himself into you at a slow pace, easing his way into you.

Every push caused you to whimper. He began increasing his speed, causing you to bite your lip as you moaned his name over and over. Your body trembled with every slam he made, his pace never faltering.

You felt the knot in your stomach grow tighter, filling your belly with heat. You could hear Christian gasping and grunting loudly as he continued to pound into you.

"Chris Chris Chris Chris Chris" You chanted over and over again as you squeezed your eyes shut tightly, wanting him to cum inside you.

"Please Chris" You begged. Just when you thought he wasn't going to respond, he abruptly pulled out of you and slammed himself back inside you.

You let out a scream as he plowed into you, burying himself deep within you.

"Oh my god, yes!" You screamed.

"Let go for me, princess" He spoke as a strangled cry escaped your lips, causing you to lean backward as he pumped his seed deep inside you. You let out a loud sigh, as you felt your body quivering with ecstasy.

The aftershocks hit you like a tsunami, and you collapsed onto his chest, unable to do much else but ride the waves of pleasure that still coursed through your body.

When the last wave subsided, you both stayed like this for a few more minutes. Neither of you said anything; just basking in the moment. You just loved holding onto him like this.

"Wow. That was intense" He breathed out, still holding you in his arms.

"You're definitely going to be buying more of those compression shirts" You joked with a chuckle, causing him to laugh.

"I don't think I've ever been fucked like that" You added, leaning up to press your lips to his.

"If I'd known you'd like that shirt so much, I would have worn it sooner. Just tell me when you're ready for round two" He joked as well, bringing you to laughter.

The sound of Christian saying "round two" sent chills through you, yet the idea excited you immensely.

"Give me like, 10 minutes" You requested, causing Christian to raise an eyebrow at your words.

-

TAGLIST

@ithinkimokeei @myheartgoesvroom @mounthings @tall-tanned-tattoo @itsnotgray @alwaysclassyeagle @charlewiss @pianoisland @chelseagirl98 @lovelynikol16 @username-envy

[slytherin-ghost]

Hello, hope you are having a good day/night?

I was wondering if you could do a batfam x villian Bruce Wayne biological son?

This is just an idea i love angst

Like Bruce didn't know about him and he was raised by villain's and can control blue fire. He hate heros and villains. He probably feels that heros are supposed to save those in need but why did no one save him? A childish part of him wants to be saved and loved but what kind of idiot would give a villain a second chance specially him, a villain that have both heros and villains hate?

Hi! I'm doing good! Thanks for the ask!

I didn't know if you wanted a specific villain so I did Hugo Strange and Joker. Also, the reader is about 15 - 16 years old

Flashbacks are in bold

Warnings: Violence, fire, absent father, absent mother, angst, PTSD(?), crying, Hugo Strange being a d!ck, child abandonment, yelling

Why did no one save me?!

You ran across the roof tops and jumped building to building, you didn't look behind yourself, making sure you got far away from Arkham Asylum as possible. Once you got far enough, you stopped and took a breath the adrenaline running out. Sitting next to a tree.

It was a normal night. You had to talk to a psychiatrist, not expecting it to be Hugo Strange.

"So lets talk about your father did you know him?" Strange asked

"No." you replied, the Joker raised you after your mother and her new boyfriend ran away because they owed Joker some money.

"Biological father perhaps?"

"No." He didn't know you existed, apparently he "saved" your mother somehow. As far as you knew he wasn't a hero, none of the heros were actually heros. If they were why did they help you?

Strange asking about your father isn't what pushed you over the edge. It was him asking about heros.

You gently lit a branch from the tree on fire. The blue flames escaping your hand. The fire spread across the tree making the whole thing trapped in the flames. You leaned against it. Your power of fire didn't affect you.

You were snapped out of your thoughts as a figure stood in front of you. "Hello there." You greeted looking up at the Batman. "Come to take me back to Arkham?"

"Listen, your just a kid. You need professional help." The Batman stated

"Help from who the heros?! The heros who were supposed to help me but never did!" Fire grew in your hands the angrier you got before you threw it at the man in front of you.

He quickly fought back. Dodging every attempt that you made to hit him. At some point, Batman got a good hit on you knocking you out.

Bruce, not Batman, Bruce looked down at your body. He felt sorry for you. He got some of your backstory from Hugo Strange. He felt obligated to help you. He knew what it was like to grow up without parents. At least he had Alfred growing up, you had no one of a crazy clown.

He picked up your body and sat you in the back of the bat mobile.

Once back in the cave, Bruce took some of you DNA. You had a resemblance to his looks. "Your sure, he's going to be happy about you helping him?" Dick asked "No." Bruce replied. The boys had joined Bruce in the cave "Can't imagine what he went through, being raised by the joker." Jason commented. There was a ding signaling that the DNA test was done.

Bruce froze after reading the results.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

A few hours after you woke up you looked around. Unfamiliar with your surroundings. "Your up." A voice remarked. "Yes. I am." You replied "I wanted to talk to you about something." The voice said as Batman stepped forward. "Your parents. Do you remember anything about them?" You shook your head. "I was able to track you father." Batman stated. Your dad? How?

"Really?"

Batman nodded and removed his cowl "I'm your father." Batman was Bruce Wayne and your father!

Anger began to grow inside you again. "Your my father?! But your a hero?!" You yelled "You a hero but didn't dome to help me!"

Bruce sighed, "I would've if I knew about you. Your mother never told me." He said "But I'd like to help you now. I have four other boys that I'd helped-"

"You helped other boys but not me?!"

"Yes but I-"

"Why didn't anyone help me! When I needed help! No one came!"

Tears came to your eyes

"Screw your help! I can help myself if I need help!" And you left...

Bruce sighed and sat down. The boys. Dick,Jason, Tim and Damian felt sorry after hearing what happened.

They made a deal to find you that night.

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Part 2?

Thanks for reading! I would like to make a part two if anyone wants me too. Please let me know if I missed any warnings.