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shadowhearts-ponytail · 10 months

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gf!abby anderson thoughts!

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist ˚୨୧⋆｡˚⋆

a/n: recently, I've been reading a lot of abby fics, and it seems like all of them are pure smut, just absolute filth. and I've been looking for some more fluff. I couldn't find much. so I decided to make some bc bbg deserves some soft love :)

warnings: all lowercase intended, fem!reader, reader is referred to as abby's girlfriend, modern au, soft!abby. this is just sweet stuff for a sweet girl!

words: 1,053

abby is like a human space heater. she just radiates heat. which is perfect for the colder seasons.

if she notices you're cold or you're shivering, no matter where you are or who's around, she'll wrap her big, strong arms around you and hold you to her chest. placing sweet kisses to your head and rubbing her large hands across your back.

she uses the cold weather as an excuse to hold you and touch you. she's very clingy. always wanting to be close. to touch you.

even if she's just holding your hand or her knee is touching yours when you sit next to one another. her hand on your thigh under the table.

she always wants to be close. even during the hot summer months with her body still giving off heat.

she still wants to hug you from behind and have her arm around your waist. even if it makes you both sweat even more.

but this doesn't mean she won't be complaining about the heat. saying you're the one making her hot.

and don't you dare say anything about her making you too hot. she'll pout and whine if you push her hands away or dodge her kisses because she'll only make you hotter.

"no, abs. not right now. it's too hot to cuddle in be-" she cuts you off with an exaggerated whine.

"babbbbeeeeee!" her lips frown down into a pout, "You're so mean to me!"

she's so dramatic about it too. flipping on the bed and pouting as she then goes on to fake cry. whining and groaning like a wounded deer.

if you give her a couple kisses she'll be satisfied until she craves your attention in 5 minutes.

she can't go more than an hour without a kiss from you.

especially at work. having to go an 8 hour shift without a kiss? impossible in her eyes.

so she's always calling you and begging you to swing by and give her a kiss and a hug. and maybe a snack. a girl's gotta eat. what better than a homemade meal that her girlfriend made?

I imagine her working at like a hardware store. I dunno. I don't have reasons other than seeing her muscles flex when she lifts wooden boards or paint cans.

asking you to come over on her breaks. sitting on the bench outside if the weather allows it. listening to you talk about whatever you've been up to that day. work, school, errands. it doesn't matter. she could listen to your voice all day and still not be tired of hearing it.

she'd end up just admiring you as you speak. totally zoned out. chin in the palm of her hand as her elbow rests on her knee. just looking at your face. memorizing your features as if she won't ever see you again.

she'd only snap out of her daze when she realizes you stopped talking and your face is beet red because of her gaze.

"oh, sorry, babe. I didn't mean to stare. you're just so… pretty. pretty girl."

she can't help it. she's just a lovesick puppy!

a lovesick puppy that follows you around in the grocery store. holding onto your belt loop as you walk down the cereal aisle looking for abby's favorite. Captain Crunch.

she'd be looking at you with a big dopey grin. wrapping her arms around you in a hug. planting sweet kisses across your cheek and jaw. not caring if she's in the way or distracting you from the shelves of cereal.

when she's not staring at you, she's grabbing stuff she wants off the shelves and tossing them in the cart.

"really, abby? ramen noodles?"

"what? they're good."

"last time you had some, you complained. said it gave you a 'tummy ache'. remember?"

she smiles bashfully as she places the noodles back onto the shelf. "Yes, ma'am."

and as much as she likes to act touch and all strong. she's totally whipped for you. you tell her to bend over backward, she would. you say jump, she says "how high?"

shes always been like this. even before you two got together. always calling you ma'am. at first it was out of respect and because she was scared of you. pretty girls scare her. but eventually it turned into a way to tease you. she always liked how it made you blush a bit.

"abs did you wash the dishes?"

"yes, ma'am. I did." she usually says it with a cheeky grin.

unless you've scolded her for something. then she says it with a blush and a bit of submission in her voice.

like when she pushes herself too far at the gym. maybe she pulled a muscle or went too far to try and show off.

I mean, we all know abby is a gym rat through and through. like look at her. girl is beefy.

she loves the gym. she loves working out. she's very active. walking, lifting, anything really. she always likes walks with you in the morning.

the sun coming up, morning dew and fog out. the nice morning air. she'd make sure to slow down and match her strides with yours. not wanting to leave you behind. going at your pace. holding onto your hand and just chatting.

she's definitely a morning person. the latest she ever wakes up, even on her off days, is 8AM. she's always up and at em. even if you're not.

she makes herself a morning protein shake. goes for a jog, showers, and cleans the apartment before you've even woken up.

she's not one for sitting around and doing nothing. unless it's with you. if you're there, she'll be happy doing anything.

she's always so happy to have you around. a big grin always plastered on her face when you're in the room. her hands will find yours and squeeze.

if the two of you go out with friends, she won't leave your side. she won't let anyone else sit next to you. she'll have a hand on your leg and sit as close as she can.

most likely not listening to anyone talk but you. laughing at all your jokes, even if no one else does. even if it's a shit joke.

basically abby is perfect and amazing and I love her.

a/n: this is the first time I've written anything in like years. I used to write a bit on a different account, but yk.. life happened. but yeah, sorry if this sucks balls!

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melodic-haze · 2 months

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hear me out brat!chiori x service top!reader where she teases you all the time both in public and private until you just cant take it anymore and finally snap and fuck her until shes sobbing from overstimulation and cant think or speak at all and only begging for you to breed her over and over again

☆ — DEMO TRACK: power bottom!Chiori x service top!gp!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: fem reader with a dick, overstim and.....tbf it's all up in the asks actually

☆ — NOTES: I really shouldn't have been given the ability to read and write idk but anyway I love mean lesbians 🫶 even though ik I'd be scared of them irl (I AM a mean lesbian idk what I'm on about)

Oh my god she's be an INSUFFERABLE brat though???? Not cuz she's cheeky and sly as hell, not like for example Miko, but bc she KNOWS she can easily tease and making you want what you Cannot Have

She'd drop her scissors on accident and bending down in a way that showcases her own specially made lingerie (mostly made with you in mind, though she reserves said special designs for your eyes only—she'd never admit it but designs for YOU and her customers are two completely different things 🤷‍♀️) or make you help her with something and then 'accidentally' grazing skin one way or another (nothing too disastrous, she can't jeopardise her work for ANYONE)

Chiori wouldn't outright say stuff plainly though cuz that's crass and she's much more classier than that, who do you think she is??? She WOULD outright make innuendos and double entendres with a glint in her eye and a mocking tone, however 💀 just to piss you off a bit

"Hold these steady for me, would you? You're capable of that much."

As you scrambled to pin down two bits of fabric on the mannequin, she pulls away with a light smirk. Your eyebrows furrowed slightly at the remark, "I'd like to think I'm a lot more capable than what you've been insinuating the entire day."

"Are you?" She turns away to head to her worktop, "I suppose that with my direction, you can.. well, satisfy basic needs."

"You say that like I'm not capable of directing myself."

"You would lack the necessary finesse to please me."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, "Thanks for the faith. But we both know you're downplaying what I can do."

"But do we?" The designer turns back to you, sewing equipment in hand and a nonchalant look in her gaze, "Perhaps I've been unimpressed with your performance thus far."

"Then you'd be complaining about me in every waking moment."

"Don't I already?"

"True. Someone really needs to shut you up every once in a while."

"Oh?" She approaches you.. and the mannequin, you supposed, "Mind supplying an example?"

"Uh, me? I think I'm in the best position to do so."

And your lover scoffs mockingly, "You're rather confident in thinking that you could force me down."

"I'm confident that I can put you in whatever position I want."

Perhaps there was something she saw in your eyes, a brief flash of something dark that flickered through for a second, but you see a light flush coat her cheeks as she lets out a shaky exhale.

"..Do tell yourself whatever helps you sleep at night," she airily responded as her hands pressed back onto the fabric, to which you took the action as a sign of a dismissal, "Archons know I'm not going to sing you praises or tuck you in at night."

"Hmm."

Ofc it's not limited to your outside interaction, cuz you're hashtag lucky to see it inside too!!!! Yippee!!!!!!!! Get your dose of irritation 🫶🫶 if you're a patient bitch as well then that's even worse cuz she may actually up the ante just for the sake of it in bed. In public she actually appreciates you being understanding with her bluntnese but in private? Lol have fun

It's not that she does it just cuz either, I think she'd do it for the sake of seeing just how much you can take until you snap. She seems like a believer of the whole "raw emotions = raw capability" thing, and she'd definitely test you more than once just to see how much you can take before you flip out

She doesn't say anything about how there's that hidden desire to see you turn things against her and actually put her in her place after she's being such a brat the entire day though

"Ngh..! I said to go-- sssslowER--"

"I.. don't think.. I'll listen to you right now," you managed to force out as you pinned her on the mattress, hammering the brat underneath you with your length as if desperate to paint her insides white.

At some point, your patience had eventually run out. She had this constantly challenging look in her eyes that followed her all the way to the bedroom, and her words had reflected on that too.

You wanted to please her, to satisfy her the way you knew you could, you swore.. but it always wasn't enough for her, or maybe you got it all wrong, or her demands were so unbearably contrasting despite the fact that you could have sworn that her reactions indicated that you were on the right track. Really, you just had no choice but to take matters in your own hands the same way you took this insatiable designer's hair, now loose from its usual style; hard and forceful.

Chiori's hands practically clawed the sheets, her small build helpless as you moved her like some sort of ragdoll—whyever would she fight it, though?

And as if used to obeying your commands, she does. She looks at the vanity mirror just a short distance away from the bed, looks at her ruined makeup smudged on her face, looks at the apex of her thighs that drip and glisten with a mix of her transparent essence and the backwash of your cum.

"This was what you've been aiming for, isn't it? I'm doing what-- fffuuck.. what you demanded of.. of me." You lifted her up without hesitation, with your other hand on her lower abdomen as you continued your relentless pace, "May as well.. mmf.. watch."

Perhaps there was something to the sight that snapped the last of her fighting composure in half—maybe it was the way you forced her to look at your live methods of discipline, maybe it was the way your dick hit a certain spot inside her due to the change in angle, or maybe it was the way you had looked at her in the mirror with a dark, heady mixture of lust and frustration.

Either way, it had her hips practically stuttering as she opened her mouth to scream.. only for nothing to come out save for a broken, cut-off start of such a sound. Her body for a brief moment before going limp and leaning back into you.

You also see—and feel—a deluge of hot liquid squirt out a certain distance and onto your still-moving cock.

Really, nothing about the situation or the reactions you're recieving is deterring you from overwhelming her more than enough to render her quiet and satisfied.

Even as her hands struggled to grip onto your own that's pushing into where her womb is located, where you're hitting her at your deepest, you didn't stop. Even as she sobbed and actually threw her sharp pride aside to plead for you to spare her from further overstimulation, you didn't stop.

Again, why would you? You're going to make sure she comes out of this sated.. even if that did mean fucking a few braincells out of your lover.

(Though with the way she was smiling whorishly, you have more than a feeling that she wanted you to do so.)

(..Not like you'd ever use such language aimed at her outside private walls, lest you want to experience her ire rather than her desire.)

Get it?? Cuz. Cuz like. Desire??? Des-ire?????? Haahahhahahahahah oh my god I think I'm gonna go ballistic one day

She loves being treated like a classy lady, she loves being treated like a queen, but she ALSO loves being roughhoused and railed to the moon and back—she's not a delicate bitch she can handle it 🤷‍♀️ just like how she Knows you can handle a bit of a bratty personality (though really such a thing should probably be guaranteed anyway to be with her without getting all ratty)

She'd call you a fuckign brute, she'd call you names, but at the end of the day all she'd want is for you to fill her and fuck her until nooooo coherent thought is left 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

It's satisfying at the end when you're done when Chiori's simply laying there, eyes completely glazed over as she struggles to get back to reality as you've painted her insides (and outsides tbh) white. Maybe this is your own artform, with Chiori's being clothing design AHAHAHA anyway 🫶

"So how'd I.. ugh," you unceremoniously flopped onto the bed, grimacing at the very wet sheets and the inevitable cleanup you're dreading of doing later, "how'd I do?"

"..."

"Chiori? Babe?"

"..Give me a minute, would you?" She groaned out hoarsely, her usual grace to her movements and edge to her voice gone and replaced with a much more.. relaxed, casual tone, you supposed, "Asking a girl to rate your performance after using her like a feral beast is in poor taste."

"Okay, but you more than asked for it, really."

"I don't recall doing such a thing."

"You're only especially difficult when you want that sort of treatment."

"I'm never difficult for no good reason."

You raised an eyebrow and said nothing.

Your girlfriend stares you down with a tired glare.. before relenting shortly after with an affectionate eyeroll, "I told no lie, I needed the break from..."

"Thinking?"

"Yes. Perhaps."

"Bad week?"

"Annoying clients."

"I can ward them away for you," you suggest as you opened your arms to her.

"No need—I can do so myself." You half expected her to keep you hanging until you decide to drop your arms.. but then she moves closer to you, eventually letting herself be enclosed in a hug, "..But thank you for the offer."

Any form of initial surprise from the acceptance in affection easily melts into that warm buzz that never fails to make you happy every time Chiori indulges in something remotely affectionate, "You're welcome."

..Perhaps clean-up can wait later.

The surprising thing would never be how bratty she is or how depraved she becomes with enough of a push tbh, but rather her showing blatant affection for you at any given time. Post-coital afterglow doesn't necessarily give her much of an extra urge to cuddle—if anything she's usually averse considering how sweaty and gross it'd feel to her after........but surprise affections are a very VERY welcome surprise :3

Tbh even then idk if sex is a common thing that happens between you, even when you're in a relationship 🤔 but it'd still be juicy either way. Something about how absence makes the heart grow fonder, except it just makes your cock go harder idfk LMAO

It's like 2 am rn guys this is my only explanation for all this

#hazy samples!#hazy explicits!#chiori x reader #chiori smut #sub chiori #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact smut #sub genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin smut #sub genshin #genshin women x reader #genshin women imagines #genshin women smut #sub genshin women

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ninii-winchester · 9 days

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Behind Closed Doors (Part 5)

Pairing : Boss! Dean Winchester X Assistant! Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: angst, slight violence (a well deserved punch), language, John and Mary Winchester, not proofread.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Y/n emerged from the women's room and went back to her work space. She knew she looked like a mess even after putting her best efforts to look presentable. With a deep breath she sat back on her desk, thankful Dean was in a meeting. She had zoned out and hadn't realised how much time had passed until a knock on her desk pulled her out of her thoughts. She looked up to see a pair of blue eyes staring at her.

"Earth to Y/n." Cas grinned but his grin faltered the minute he saw her eyes, puffy and red, the sight made him furrow his brows.

"Cas! What're you doing here?" She asked happily getting up from her chair and rounding the desk to greet him with a hug. "I thought you were in France." She said wrapping her arms around his torso. The man didn't hesitate to return the embrace.

"I was, but the event wrapped up early so I came back." He replied pulling away slightly so he could look at her better. "What happened?" He questioned. His gaze fell to her hand where he was expecting to see a ring on her finger but the vacant finger confused him even more. Dean had told him over the phone that he'd proposed and you'd said yes. So why on earth is your finger empty and your eyes red.

Dean stepped out of the elevator after he was done with the meeting and he watched Cas and Y/n talking outside his office. He took in her disheveled appearance and his heart clenched in his chest. She looked so small, and broken, all because of him. He'd promised to never hurt her and that's what he ended up doing. He could tell she'd cried, her puffy and red eyes had given that away.

"Y/n? Where's your ring?" Dean heard Cas ask and his gaze fell to her hand, the sight broke his heart. She'd taken it off. "Didn't Dean propose? He said you said yes." Cas prodded further but she didn't say anything until her gaze fell upon Dean approaching them, not necessarily them, but his office. She watched as he moved past them and reached his office door and that's when she spoke.

"Propose? Cas you've known me since college, I've never been the one they proposed to, I'm the one they 'love' and leave." She sneered and Dean's grip tightened onto the doorknob. He hated hearing her talk about herself like that but shes not even giving him a chance to explain. He felt his anger flaring up and he went inside his office slamming the door behind him.

Cas looked between his two friends feeling completely out of the loop but he felt this was bigger than a petty argument and he's never known Y/n to overreact so if something happened it was big. And most probably Dean's fault. All rationality left his brain when he saw his friend hurt and his best friend being the reason of her tears. He went inside Dean's office, where Dean was pacing back and forth. He grabbed the CEO by his arm and punched him straight in the jaw.

"What the fuck, Cas?" Dean growled holding his jaw.

"What did you do?" Cas glared at his best friend.

"Why do you think I did something?" Dean asked feeling offended his best friend was accusing him.

"Your face says it all so spill, or Lord so help me." Cas threatened. He was gonna beat him to a pulp if he didn't come clean right here, right now. Dean knew Cas was a peaceful person and if he's threatening to choose violence, he will resort to it. He's already lost his fiancée, he doesn't want to lose his best friend too. The two men sat on the chairs placed on the either side of Dean’s desk.

"I went to see mom and dad a week ago." He started.

Dean walked into his childhood house, he was greeted by smiling faces of John, Mary and Sam. It brought a smile to his face as well. Dean teased Sam about how Jess’ not here since they’re always attached to the hip. Mary cleared her throat before speaking,

“There’s something I need to tell you. I wasn’t sure how you’d react so I thought it’d be better if it’s just us.” That made Dean tense up. He didn’t like the way this conversation started.

“Is everything okay?” Dean asked looking back and forth between his parents.

“On the surface yeah.” Mary replied. “Dean you’re thirty. You’re not getting any younger and I want you to settle down.” She said getting straight to the point.

“Okay..” Dean trailed off, this isn’t as bad as he thought it would be. He just has to tell them about Y/n and their engagement now.

“And the way you’ve been immersed in work, I don’t see you getting settled anytime soon so we’ve decided to arrange with you someone.” Mary said and Dean’s jaw dropped to the floor. Did his family really think he’s that much of a workaholic that he can’t find a partner for himself? That’s bullshit.

“Excuse me?” Dean growled standing up from his seat.

“She’s the niece of your dad’s old friend. Her name’s Rachel.” Mary said with a finality in her voice.

“Rachel? The one I went to school with? What the fuck is wrong with you all?” Dean yelled.

“She likes you.” Mary added, trying to convince her son.

“I don’t give a fuck. You have no right to meddle in my life.” Dean growled. John who had been quiet all this time finally spoke.

“Dean, don’t talk to your mother like that.” His voice boomed.

“And you’re not hearing what she’s saying?” Dean retorted.

“Dean calm down.” Sam said setting a hand on his brother’s shoulder which the older brother shrugged off.

“Dean this arrangement is for the benefit of the company as well. And your mother wants you to settle down. What’s so wrong in that?” John exclaimed loudly.

“My company is doing great without anyone’s support and what’s wrong with this arrangement is that I have someone in my life and I won’t marry anyone else besides her.” Dean declared.

“Watch your tone, boy. That company is mine, need I remind you I’m still the owner of that company. And you’re the CEO because I made you.” John asserted making Dean scoff.

“You made me CEO because i worked hard for it. You didn’t just give it to me, I earned it.” Dean sneered back at his father.

“The decision has been made. You either marry Rachel or you lose the title of CEO.” John bellowed and the room fell silent. The only sound that could be heard was Dean’s harsh breathing. Without another word Dean left his parent’s house, slamming the door on his way out.

“Dude that’s fucked up.” Cas muttered as Dean finished his story.

“Yeah tell me about it.” Dean rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair.

“Did you tell her?” Castiel asked gesturing outside the door. Dean shook his head staring at the ceiling. “What’re you gonna do now?

“I don’t know, Cas. I love her to death. I don’t want anyone else. But I’ve worked too hard for where I am. It’s so fucking complicated. I don’t even know what to tell her.” He sighed rubbing his face. “How am I going to tell her that I can’t choose between her and my work?”

“You’ve worked hard for this, Dean. Everyone knows that.” Castiel said softly. He felt dejected he couldn’t help his friend. “And I know Y/n. She wouldn’t want you to give it up.” He added.

“That’s also something which scares me. She’d tell me to choose this.” Dean said gesturing to his office. “She’d put me first and I can’t even imagine to bear the look on her face when she does it.” Dean could feel tears springing in his eyes, just at the thought of loosing her for good. “I thought I’d deal with this mess without her knowing about it. But then Rachel showed up.”

“Dean.” Cas said seriously that made Dean look at him. “You have to tell her. She’s falling down in a deep hole of self doubt.” Dean nodded agreeing with Cas. He knows its going to be hard, but he has to go through with it.

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adarkandmagicalforest · 9 months

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An Irritation p. 2

pairing: Otto Hightower/Targaryen Reader (twin to Daemon)

tags: explicit sexual content, hate fucking, mentions of incest, otto hightower talking about sin

Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight, Part Nine, Epilogue

She had not thought to do it again.

But then, Daemon had been expelled from his short term as Master of Laws and had been in an especially instigative mood since then. He'd dragged her from her bath, complaining all the while, demanding they fly together.

When she refused, as it was Winter and a storm was pouring rain over Kings Landing outside, he prodded her, viciously trying to get her to rise up to his fire. But Daemon was poor company when in such a mood, so his pushing only served to make her furious. She'd bit out some response and dressed in a mere robe before leaving through one of Maegor's tunnels, her brother glaring after her as she left.

She ended up at the Tower of the Hand soon enough.

But to her utter disappointment, Otto Hightower was nowhere to be found in his chambers.

But never one to suffer disappointment for long, the Princess began to help herself. He had not been here to stop her after all, and what did it matter if she wished to ruffle around in his things? He was their servant after all, it should have pleased him that his possessions could entertain her for a time, she mused as she explored the chest of drawers against the wall, the nightstand that held a pair of gloves and the desk with his papers. She even exchanged her robe for a pair of his trousers, loose and far too long for her much shorter legs, but an interesting sight nonetheless. She wished she could have found his pin, but the blasted man seemed to never take it off.

She had begun humming when she went through the rest of his clothes, the stale mass of dark grey, black and emerald green uninspiring until she found a pair of thick, woven ties inside.

They were clearly meant for holding, perhaps to fasten against his belt or some other mundane purpose, but she as a dragonrider thought them to be rather similar to reins .

And so the Princess took them, laying herself back on the Hand's neat belt, hoping dearly she would not need to wait long.

She counted near a half hour before her ears caught the sound of doors opening beyond the bedroom.

Pleased, her pale hand rose up and pushed her half-dry, ivory curls up in an artful array and arranged herself into a more comfortable position on her stomach, though the mix of his trousers, her long hair and the dark green ties that were idly wrapped around her wrists like bracelets was an odd one, but she liked the way it felt.

Minutes were all it took then for the door to creak open - it halted of course, halfway upon opening. The Princess ignored it, instead twirling the fabric about as her heart thudded in her chest, curious to see if Otto would play.

More heartbeats followed, but words were not uttered.

She could only hear his footsteps, stepping over the floor and to the rug beneath his large bed.

"I did not think I would receive a visit from you, Princess. I did not receive a missive nor warning of it." Otto finally said, not as negative as he could have been. For the past week, the Lord Hand had been thoroughly avoiding her, which was an interesting development, especially with Daemon's horrible attitude of late. Normally the old man would've started lashing criticisms of her and Daemon both, no matter which twin had earned his ire, always lumping the two together. But even with her brother wrecking havoc, she hadn't heard Viserys grousing once about hearing of her from his Hand.

So the dragon turned onto her back, her pale hair covering her breasts but hardly as a fine act of modesty, what with the curve of her small breasts and her soft pink nipples being well on display.

The movement caused the Hand's breath to hitch, just slightly, which made her lips turn up into a pleased grin. That would surely bother Otto, who's immediate twitch of his brow told her that his action had been an accidental one. "I thought you were a servant of my House, Otto - I did not think a servant required prior warning before I had need of him." She replied, lifting herself up onto her arms, peering up at him expectantly.

"Of course. Yet it would only be polite. Then, I should have expected that to be something that was beyond your worries, Princess." He said then, drifting closer now and placing his hands on the sturdy wooden footboard of his bed. He always kept such neat hands, she noticed blithely. Clean hands with clean fingers and clean fingernails. Only days ago, those fingers had been rubbing at her cunt til she came. Daemon would have taken this man apart piece by piece, slowly feeding each limb to Caraxes if he ever found out.

"Mmm. The worries of a Princess are more important than such things." She agreed. She squirmed slightly then, rubbing her thighs together. The texture of the trousers that she was wearing was rubbing against her, heat looming within her at the motion.

This action caught the Hand's attention instantly. "It seems though, you've been here for sometime." He said darkly, finally approaching her properly, now looking down at her as if he could frighten her.

"I have."

Finally, Otto reached for her, looking rather frustrated but also aroused in her opinion, especially as his hand smoothed over her pale stomach. His fingers pushed her loose hair out of the way of his path as his touch traversed her torso, moving carefully along her delicate ribcage and then up the curve of her pale breast, the warmth of his hand pleasant, especially as his thumb moved over her nipple. The Princess moved slightly, pressing herself up against this touch, encouraging him to stroke and pet her. Cannibal liked the same.

"You've been going through my possessions." He stated, disgruntled and yet still touching her. He was still roaming over her flesh, but now his hand was touching the trousers she'd stolen, perhaps noting after ducking them down an inch, that she wore nothing beneath them.

"I was bored."

This, he didn't like, because then his fingers began digging into her, his nails raking over her until she gasped and red marks raised up through her soft skin. She was soaking through his trousers, she knew, and was tempted to grab at his wrist and escort it down between her legs - but she was fascinated where he was going with this. How odd it was to think him an interesting lover.

"To think, a woman of your privileges, to be blessed by the Gods to rule - and yet to be damned by such sin." Otto finally said, an edge to him that made her ache. So this is how he wanted to play? Very well, she thought, ecstatic.

"Oh yes, I forgot how pious you are, Otto. It must have slipped my mind the last time you were wetting your cock with my whorish little cunt." The Princess almost purred back.

That flash of pissed off and starving came over his face, and then he climbed over her in the bed. His hand gruffly moved underneath her hair, grasping at her nape with force as he kissed her. She kissed him back hungrily, her hands reaching for him and yanking at his clothes, fantasizing for a moment about putting on his doublet with the gilded hand of the King pin, perhaps with him putting his mouth to good use at her cunt while she wore it.

But Otto had another thought, it seemed.

Because her hands, having been making work of the ties on his doublet, were suddenly seized with an iron grip and roughly pinned above her head. And those ties, which she had been wearing as bracelets, were now her reins - as they were now being tied against the headboard with such swift action that by the time she thought to struggle and wriggle and fight, it was already done.

She shouted her frustration, wriggling against the ties, but to no avail.

"So much fire and yet two little straps can keep you bound so tightly..." The Hand said, looking down at how she struggled.

If it wasn't for the fact that he was still touching her, his fingers rubbing over her sides and then up to her breasts, massaging at them near worshipfully, she might have made a stronger effort of it. She could escape, if she so wished.

Otto lowered his head then, kissing at her rib cage slowly. "If you were not born a Targaryen, a girl with your appetites would have been punished by the Seven already." He said, his wiry beard tickling her as he mouthed along her sternum and then up the curve of her breast. His mouth was warm, but the tantalizing thought that he was visiting her body as he might a Sept while also murmuring of punishment could dazzle her mind. "A girl with such a mind - " The Hand continued, kissing one pink nipple while his hand plucked at the other. " - one no better than a slut... If you were named anything else, even just a bastard perhaps, you would have been stripped down and paraded through the streets to atone for the whorish desires within you."

Hot arousal bloomed in her, needy and aching at his words. House Hightower had always been tied to the Faith, but she'd never believed religion to be anything more than lies told to shame children to behave. Now, devilishly, she wondered if she should have learned more of it - if just so she could combat old Otto more properly.

"And what does that make you, Otto? Touching your slut Princess like this, as I'm sure your dirty old Septons fantasize about too. Some faithful man you are... I wonder, what would your wife think if she could look upon you now, hm?" She mused back, glad to not be so breathless when his fingers began roughly unlacing her from her trousers. The laces rubbed against her flesh so quickly as he pulled them away, as he'd done so with such harshness that they left tiny rope burns on her stomach. The trousers were ripped away just as quickly, and her legs were pushed up, bending them against her chest.

The look on his face was dark and outraged, just as he usually looked whenever her or Daemon's lips ever quirked a smile or pushed the Hand to his limit.

This she was fine with, pleased to see some fire, but instead of receiving a cock, she got a rough hit. Otto's hand spanded over the softest part of her arse, just where her thigh met it, and even over her cunt. The smack stung unbelievably, and the sensation actually made her yelp in pain.

But that didn't stop the Hand's hand, who smacked her again. And again. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack.

Seven times, she realized once her arse was burning hot and stinging painfully. He'd hit her once for each of his stupid gods. Her core was weeping, the contact from his smacks not enough to satisfy, just to torture her. Perhaps he hadn't meant these to arouse her, but the evidence was surely hard to ignore.

"You really are no better than a common whore, aren't you, Princess? Look at you - " Otto opened her cunt lips with his thumb, a wet sound joining it. "Pink, pulsing and soaking wet after I've just struck you. I should bring you to the King and have him look upon you. You would bring shame to him, no matter white hair graces your head or dragon you straddle between your legs that make you believe you are outside of the will of the Gods."

"Oh is that what you desire, Lord Hand? If you wished for an early - well, earlier, death, I could introduce you to my Cannibal. It would be my pleasure." She assured, feeling indeed to her pleasure when the older man took his time stroking her.

The petting she liked, but when he did not add to her neddling, she immediately began to push at him, needing so badly to be ridden.

"Gūrogon aōha jēda sir, Otto? Tolī uēpa naejot qogralbar nyke rhinka?" Taking your time today, Otto? Too old now to fuck me roughly? She murmured coyly, knowing just how to annoy him with her tone and use of High Valyrian, which had never failed her before.

His thumb pressed punishingly upon her clit then, making her hiss and raise her legs up high as if that would make him relent.

"You will cease to speak your foreign language at once if you expect a response." Otto commanded, his voice strict and heady even as his free hand snatched at her leg, placing it high over his shoulder while he forced his fingers inside of her - they slipped inside of her easily, wetly, before beginning to thrust them within her, his speed not enough - she needed him angrier.

"Kostilus istia gūrēñagon ziry pār, ser." Perhaps you should learn it then, ser. She replied, mirth in her voice. And that was enough, she saw, with just a sharp twitch of the Hand's brow.

Her cunt received another sharp smack of his hand, the strike over her clit now, making her yelp. A second came over her wet lips. And then, with no warning, Otto took her by her hips and flipped her onto her belly. His body followed, straddling the back of her thighs as he forced his lips along her back, moving her pale hair out of the way so he might kiss along her neck, even grazing his teeth over her shoulders and then down her spine while his hands roamed her lithe body with a worshipping touch. He was so unlike Daemon or her other past lovers - the dragon princess never quite knew what he would do next, especially as she was under his mercy. What did a would-be jumped-cut second born son want to do with his Princess? He had yet to suckle at her as he did their influence, this she was disappointed she had yet to experience to it's heights. But then, Otto grasped at her rear, spreading her arse so he might run his knuckle along her cunt and even her arsehole. Every part of her came alive as he did, awareness and thrill raising her blood with excitement.

A knock came.

To any other, this would have been the moment they stopped - almost getting caught the tipping of the glass that would have shattered the moment.

But not to a dragon.

She was Cannibal in a woman's form - and above all, she hungered. Wantonly, selfishly.

"If you do not fuck me right now, Otto Hightower, I will scream for all to hear." She threatened, turning her head to witness his face.

He did not disappoint. Fury crackled through the air, and he very nearly looked to scowl before reaching for the front of his breeches and taking out his cock. "What is it?" He called out coldly to whomever dared to interrupt.

The head of his manhood slipped inside of her, lingering for only a moment before being removed - and then roughly thrust back within her until he was fully sheathed in her, almost making her yelp if not for his hand slapping over her mouth to keep her quiet.

"The Small Council has been called, my Lord Hand, and are awaiting your arrival." A servant replied from behind the door.

Otto slammed his hips against her, his cockhead hitting that place within her cunt that she knew with enough attention would make her peak if he fucked her hard enough. She thrust backwards against him, needing more, but his fingers had dug into her soft hips tightly, forcing her still while he controlled the pace.

"What topic has the meeting been called for?" He questioned gruffly. The Hand pulled out of her again, lingering with just the head rubbing through her folds, before thrusting within her again.

"I believe it is - Prince Daemon, my Lord." Pain came through her hips then - Otto's fingernails had dug so hard into her flesh that he'd surely drawn up her blood. "He has landed the Blood Wyrm over a tavern in Fleabottom - with the storm this eve, there was much damage to the area, including the death of a local tavern owner."

There was no more teasing to be had now.

Her brother's Hand had finally begun doing as she wanted most - he'd roughly slammed his cock inside her, as deep as it could go, nearly taking her breath away at the force.

"I - will be along - shortly." He growled, punctuating each word with a thrust, not even waiting to hear a response for the poor fellow who had given along the message before beginning to fuck her with true earnest.

If she had a mind to, she might've wondered if he would not worry of throwing his back out with this action - but there were no thoughts to be had, let alone a mind left to her as she lowered herself onto her elbows as Otto rammed himself inside her, fury ruling his body as well as his lust as he fucked her. There was a loud, wet noise echoing throughout the room, with their shared grunts and her muffled whimpers joining it. Over and over again, he drove into her body, until she felt him bruising her hips and his cock repeatedly hit upon her cervix.

His hand suddenly removed itself from her mouth. It reached for her ties and undid them deftly before grasping at her throat. Her body was pulled up until she was pressed solidly against his chest, his cock still deep within her even as his lips brushed along her ear.

"Did you come here as a distraction then, Princess?" Otto inquired dangerously, the rumble of his voice making her shiver with delight. "So your brother might do as he wish through the city?"

She moaned softly, especially as his fingers wracked up her side, the pain whirling with the pleasure. She wanted to finish so badly, she could feel his cock throb within her - the talk of Daemon though had made him violent.

"Daemon does as he pleases whether or not if his twin sister knows or cares." The Princess replied restlessly. She rolled her hips back against him, but his grip was like iron.

"Does he?" He countered, accusation in his voice.

She shoved herself against his back, enough to free herself. Otto was still in a fury over Daemon's recklessness, and once her feet hit the floor, her hair was captured - and then her lips.

The kiss was fierce and mean, teeth clashing and his tongue demanding the submissiveness of hers, which he would never receive. She kissed him back hotly, gasping when he pulled her back onto the bed, her scalp stinging as he threw her onto her back.

When he finally did leave her, he did so with his cock still wet, and the dragon wondered idly if her brothers would be able to smell it on him.

#otto hightower x reader #otto hightower smut #otto hightower fanfiction #otto hightower #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #game of thrones #smut #fanfiction #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #an irritation #aella Targaryen

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whump-imagines · 8 months

Text

Ice

Will & reader (could be platonic or early relationship.)

900 words

For anyone else who was missing a certain red head on Wednesday...

You felt like Bambi trying to make your way across the parking lot toward the hospital. Between sleeping through your alarm and the icy road conditions you were running very late for your shift. In your haste to get out of the house, you’d thrown on your regular shoes rather than your boots.

About halfway to the door your tractionless shoes slipped and you took a full cartoon style fall– both feet up in the air to land hard on your back. The hit knocked the wind from your lungs and it took a moment to suck in a breath.

Seconds later, the pain registered. Your back and head hurt. Before you could even think of what you should be doing next, Will was kneeling beside you.

“Don’t move,” he said. He started to run his fingers down either side of your neck in search of any abnormalities. “You hit your head pretty good. Does it hurt?”

You coughed, your lungs still trying to function properly. “Uh, yeah. My back too, kinda like up between my shoulders.”

“Okay, can you squeeze my fingers?” He placed two fingers against both your palms and you did as he'd asked. “Good, and push against my hands like you're pushing the gas pedal.” Again, you did as asked.

“Fuckin’ ice,” you muttered quietly.

“Okay. Do you think you can sit up?” Will asked.

You took another deep breath. “Yeah.” He offered his hand and very slowly pulled you into a seated position. You closed your eyes tightly as dizziness set in. “Woah.”

“Talk to me, sweetheart.”

You peeled your eyes open, locking into his concerned ones. “Just dizzy. Really dizzy.”

“You probably have a concussion,” Will suggested.

A shiver ran down your spine. “Yeah, well, won't matter if I freeze to death out here.”

Will chuckled. “We are going to move slowly. I don't need you passing out because you stood up too quickly.” He shifted so he could stand to help you up. “Ready?”

“Yup.” You winced as you straightened up, pain flaring through your back. You took half a step to get closer to Will and your feet slipped slightly. You gripped onto his arm so tightly your knuckles turned white.

“Okay, you're okay. I got ya.” He started to walk slowly and carefully towards the doors.

Once you made it to dry flooring, you sighed in relief. Will kept your hand wrapped around his arm as he headed towards the nurses station.

“Hey, Mags,” he greeted. “What's open? She took a hard fall outside.”

“Oh, sweetie.” She rubbed your shoulder gently. “Take treatment one.”

“Thanks,” said Will. “Can I get thoracic and cervical spine x-rays and a head CT?”

“And something for the pain? Please?” You asked.

“Let's get 50 micrograms of fentanyl, too,” Will added. “Oh, and a warm blanket.”

“You got it,” Maggie noted all the requests in the tablet she was holding. “Any blood work?”

“No, just the scans for now.”

About an hour later, you had finished all the scans and were trying your best not to doze off under your second warm blanket. April had brought a new one when she'd come to check your vitals.

Will came in with the tablet in his hands. “How're you feeling? In too much pain?”

You gave him a thumbs up. “I'm possibly too comfy. I'm fighting the nap hard.”

“Good news then. You can nap shortly,” he said.

“Yay!” You said lazily.

“You do have a mild concussion,” he explained. “As well as two bruised ribs. So you're stuck here for observation until at least tomorrow but you can sleep if you want.”

“Well that's gonna hurt tomorrow. Awesome,” you added sarcastically.

Will squeezed your hand gently. “At least nothing is broken. Get some rest, alright?”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, already giving into the pull of sleep.

You had no idea how much time had passed when you woke up. It seemed a safe guess that the pain was what had roused you. It felt like someone was digging a knife into your shoulder blade and breathing made it even worse.

You groped around the bed for the call button as tears welled in your eyes. A moment later, you found it and proceeded to push it several times. April pushed the curtain back soon after.

“You're awake,” she stated.

A tear rolled down your cheek. “It hurts. It hurts a lot. I feel like I can't even breathe.”

She quickly moved closer and took your hand. “Just squeeze as hard as you need to. Take slow breaths.” Within a few minutes she had calmed you down quite a bit. “I'm gonna go find someone to get you something for the pain. I'll be right back.”

She leaned out the door and you heard her tell someone that you needed something for pain. Will came in a second later and gave April a dosage for morphine.

“That should help,” he started. “I'll make sure to get you a prescription before we send you home too. Sound good?”

“Thanks, Will,” you said. He took your hand. “What would I do without you?”

He laughed. “Probably would have just frozen to death in the parking lot. So my shift is over soon and you're getting moved upstairs. What do you say to some pizza and a movie?”

“Ooh, yes. Please! Hamburger, bacon and extra cheese for me.”

“Okay. I'll see you upstairs in an hour or so.”

#will halstead x reader #will halstead imagine #chicago med fanfiction #one chicago fic

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bagdaddyb · 11 months

Note

VIRGIN BOTTOM LARISSA WEEMS PUHLEASE

Her First Time

Pairing: top fem!Reader x bottom!Larissa

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI NSFW! Soft smut. Virgin Larissa.

AN: Feeling really soft rn

Larissa couldn't deny her anxiety as her feet carried her towards your apartment. She'd contemplated turning around multiple times even now she thought of unbelievable excuses to return to the santuary of her private quaters at the school but as she stepped up to your front door you didn't give her a chance waiting outside for your beautiful queen.

"Good evening lovely lady."

You said with a warm smile. Soft eyes taking in her gorgeous appearance.

"Good evening (Y/N)."

A light blush covered Larissa's cheeks at the thought of the events yet to come taking in your apartment as she entered candle light the only illumination in the space.

"Let me take your coat."

You eased the fabric off her shoulders slowly before hanging it up in your closet.

"Glass of wine?"

You asked smoothly hand coming around to hold her waist guiding her through your space. Though shorter than her you never let the height difference scare you away. If you were being honest you had a thing for taller woman.

"That would be lovely."

Your touch was causing tingles in Larissa's side. A heat starting to rise in her body.

"How was your week?"

Larissa let go of a sigh relaxing in the comfort of being able to talk about her day. You listened intently pouring her a few glasses allowing her to relax into the situation. You know how scary loosing your virginity can be and you want this to be perfect. As she goes on you move closer to her, subtly running your finger tips over her thighs and arms.

"Are you ready sweet thing?"

You ask softly leaning into her neck and placing light kisses. Red tinted the older womans cheeks, she could only nod in response. Standing from the couch you reach your hand into her leading her down the hall to your bedroom. Once you cross the threshold you pull her shirt leading her lips to yours. You start off soft pushing her back until her legs hit the bed and she sits down. Once you have a better angle you begin to devour her enjoying the way she begins to whimper into your mouth. You slowly unbutton her shirt exposing her snow white skin. Slowly you break the heated kiss, moving your lips down her skin to her neck then shoulders then chest. You appreciate her beauty.

"You have all the control here pretty girl. If at anytime you need me to stop you just say the word and I will. Tonights all about you, I'm gonna treat you like the queen you are."

Larissa's breaths come in short pants. Her attention is completely on you, focusing on the feeling your lips give her as they travel further down her body. You place light kisses on every piece of exposed skin you can before reaching your hands behind her back to let her bra loose. You bite your lip in excitement as you expose her full chest. Latching onto one nipple you suck with vigor enjoying the way Larissa's lips part in pleasure. Moving to the next you enjoy the way both her nipples stand at the attention before laying her back on the bed. You unbutton her skirt hooking your fingers in the waist line of the fabric before looking up at her.

"You ready pretty girl?"

She nods eagerly but that isn't enough for you.

"No I want to hear that sweet voice of yours."

"Yes."

Larissa lets go, the sound is close to a moan but you don't comment on it returning your attention to her skirt you pull the fabric off of her body teasingly slow. Throwing the skirt to the side you can't help the way you hungrily lick your lips at the sight of the woman before you. She was a goddess in human form, by far the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen. You still find her stories of past lovers near unbelievable how could no one of seen this ethereal being as gorgeous you didn't know but you weren't complaining. Now she was all yours to corrupt, to introduce to passions she'd yet experienced.

"Gods your so beautiful."

Your lips return to Larissa's skin just as the red in her cheeks begins to burn brighter. She wasn't used to receiving compliments even after all this time in her relationship with you it still felt unnatural to be put on this pedestal. Yet you never took it off showering her in comments that often left her speechless. Larissa's stomach clenches as your lips begin to travel down her stomach. The undeniable feeling of arousal pooling between her legs. As you neared her apex your arms rubbed down her thigh before hooking under her knees and lifting her legs to her chest. Your eyes dialate at the sight. The ways you could fuck this woman into the mattress below you flooding your mind but that was for another night. Tonight was meant to be soft. You kiss and suck on the back of Larissa's thighs, leaving light marks that would fade by morning. The action brings active moans out of Larissa. Bringing your hand to her visibly wet underwear you lightly rub at her before using your thumb to press down her her clit through the fabric. Larissa's moans grow louder as her hips begin to squirm.

"Can't wait to tasts you."

You whisper against her skin fingers hooking under the fabric of her underwear before pulling them down. You aren't as slow with this fabric eagerly pulling them off her body before pushing her legs up once more exposing Larissa to you completely. Larissa's blush takes over her whole body and she looks away. A newfound deeling of embarrassment at having been seen for the first time flooding her body.

"Look at me pretty girl."

You say as you stand at the end of the bed pulling your shirt above your head before removing your own bra. Larissa bites her lip as you expose your skin further turned on by your little show. You removing your pants leaving nothing but your underwear on your body. Pulling Larissa to the edge of the bed by her legs you lean over her. Guiding long legs to wrap around your hips as you meet her lips in a loving kiss. Larissa moans loundly when your chest presses against hers and suddenly the need to be impossibly close to you is all she can think about. Her arms wrap around your form pulling you as close as you can be you begin to heatedly make out again your hands running all over her body before gripping her ass. Before long Larissa finds her hips moving in search of friction. Anything to help ease this ache from between her legs and you break the kiss.

"Time for my meal sweetheart."

Your trail of kisses down her body is much quicker this time, now with a goal in mind. Larissa's stomach tightens and her hips rise as you get closer. She was unbelievably turned on. More than she'd ever been the few times she played with herself. Rocking back on your heels you wrap your strong arms around her milky thighs before glancing up.

"Eyes on me."

While a command your voice remained as soft as you'd been all night. Once blue eyes connect with yours you lean in slurping up her juices before latching onto her clit. You don't take this slow your own hunger put weighing ration but Larissa doesn't seem to mind. Loud pornographic moans begin to leave her lips. The feelings you were providing affecting her just as much as the predatory gaze in her eyes. You ate her with vigor, as if you'd never eaten anything else in your life. Her noise level only grew as her stomach began to clench tighter.

"(Y/N)."

She moaned and the noise sent a shiver through your own body.

"(Y/N) (Y/N)!"

She near screamed as the tightness became to much and she went over the edge. It was the most intense orgasm she'd ever had in her life. Ten times more intense than anything she'd ever given herself. Her legs shook as you slurpped up her orgasm before climbing her body and locking her lips with yours. She could taste herself. Something she'd never thought she'd want to do but now as your lips merge with hers she feels an even more intense wave of arousal coat her body. Your hands rub up and down her body lightly squeezing at her delicate flesh before one hand makes the steady trek down her abdomen. You rub her clit quickly causing her body to rut against yours before running your fingers through her slick.

"God you're so beautiful."

You whisper against her lips as you kiss her.

"And all mine."

"(Y/N)."

Larissa whimpers back unable to do much else it seems.

"This might hurt a little baby."

You whisper to her as your fingers play at her entrance. You ease one finger in eyes watching closely to gauge Larissa's reaction. You take in the way she bites her lip and grips your arm. Pumping a few times before adding a second finger you take in Larissa small gasp of pain meeting her mouth in another passionate kiss. Soon pain gives way to pleasure and Larissa finds herself once again gasping from pleasure into your mouth.

"Thats it pretty girl, do I make you feel good."

"Yes."

Larissa whispers back against your lips arms wrapping around your body tighter.

"Come on baby, you feel so good. You hear how wet you are?"

It's only then that Larissa ques into the loud sloshing sound coming from between her legs and somehow it makes her even wetter.

"Yeah just like that, so wet for me. Taking me so well. Cum for me sweetheart, show me how good I make you feel."

As if you flip a switch in Larissa's body she finds her eyes rolling to the back of her head. Her body spasms as her orgasm completely takes over. Her breath is stolen from her lungs for the duration of her release and you continue to fuck her through it until she finally comes down from her high. Your arm wraps around her center holding her body close while meeting her lips in a few soft loving kisses. Ending with a soft hum you smile at the beautiful woman in front of you.

"So how was that for your first time?"

Larissa smiles at you sleepily. Hand coming to rub your cheek.

"Perfect."

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #larissa #principal weems #pricipal weems x reader #bottom larissa #bagdaddyb #wednesday netflix

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howlingday · 5 months

Note

Joke I had. Don't know if it has been told yet. So setting is Beacon (No Fall of Beacon) Team Rwby and Jnpr (Second years) has a family over. (Jacques is in prison and Willow divorced him) So Yang while showing her girlfriend Blake to her dad and trips with yells Motherf#cker. Ghira,Tai, and Jaune all sneeze afterwards.

"So then I said, 'Now that's a katana~!'"

The group laughed at her joke, no more so, though, than her own father. Taiyang wiped a tear from his eye as he beamed with pride at his daughter. Whether the beam was more proud than ones given by other parents to their kids was hard to say. In the year following the Battle for Beacon, things had noticeably quieted down.

Yang and her dad hung around with Ruby on the other side with Qrow, the uncle-niece duo already having more than enough jokes to last them both a lifetime. Hanging onto Yang's arm was Blake, whose feeling for the blonde brawler became more evident after she'd risked her life for the woman who risked her life. Costed her an arm, sure, but it was well worth the days of recovery for her.

Adam was in jail with most of the White Fang, Cinder Fall escaped with the others, and the Grimm were routed and exterminated by the joint effort of huntsmen and huntresses from all kingdoms. Heck, love had even blossomed outside of her life, too. Pyrrha and Jaune had a heartfelt reunion in which the couple made out for what was probably a good five minutes before parting. Say what you will about Vomit Boy, he's got some lungs on him.

But Pyrrha wasn't the only one with eyes on him. No, he'd been getting looks all night from just about everyone in the room. She'd walked past Pyrrha who had to be sure Jaune would be okay alone, which she thought was ridiculous until she turned around and saw Weiss, Ruby, and Velvet jostling each other to get closer to him.

But the craziest thing was she thought she saw was when Weiss' mom was probably eye-banging him. Recently divorced after a wild lawsuit battle that lasted almost a year, the beautiful Willow Schnee was notably more vibrant than ever before. Weiss commented that it was because something good finally happened to her mother that wasn't just leaving her awful father. But nobody could figure out what it was. Maybe-

"Shit!" Yang tripped, falling and cracking her eye on the corner of the table. Blake came over to comfort her girlfriend, who was holding her hand over her eye. "Argh! Motherfucker!"

"ACHOO!" Bellowed a heavy gust of wind, like a hurricane from a beast.

"Here you go, Ghira." Cooed Blake's mom.

"Heh-choo!" Came a familiar voice, with a sneeze that made her laugh as a child.

"Ack-choo!" Said another familiar, this one from a groggy drunk half-deep in his third flask.

"Here you go, Dad!" Ruby said before zipping again. "Here, Uncle Qrow!"

"Kichoo!" Fluttered a smaller voice, this one sneezing like a kitten.

"Oh, Jaune." Pyrrha handed him a handkerchief. "Are you getting sick?"

"Nah, I'm fine, Pyrrha."

"Yeah, you are." Purred a voice that made Yang lift her head up. Looking through the crowd, she saw Jaune holding Pyrrha close, while Weiss' mom rubbed his shoulder from behind. Pyrrha squeezed Jaune closer, making the older woman giggle. "Fine, fine. I'll see you two later tonight~!"

Yang shook her head.

"Are you okay, Yang?" Blake asked.

"I... I think I need to lie down."

#rwby #jaune arc #bmblb #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #ghira belladonna #taiyang xiao long #qrow branwen #ruby rose #weiss schnee #willow schnee #willow's knight #arkos #pyrrha nikos #kali belladonna

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notyour-valentine · 2 years

Text

I'd do anything to make you stay (dark!Tommy x Reader)

[Masterlist] [Taglist]

Summary: First, she wished to leave, then she felt it was her duty to leave, then she was desperate to leave until she realised she was forced to stay.

Note: This was written for @noforkingclue and her 2.5 k celebration. Congratulations once again. I hope you have as much fun reading this as I had writing it! I tried my hand at dark! Tommy, but in a more conniving, subtle way and used the implicit prompt of "I'd do anything to make you stay" and the explicit prompt of "I have nothing I could offer you"

I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other. This hasn't been beta'd so I apologise for typos or mistakes

Warning: Gun, manipulation, controlling behaviour, obsession (18/21+)

Wordcount: 5033 words

"So that means, I have to leave.", She announced, slightly out of breath from the strength it took to say these words.

For a moment, there was silence. Then it was Ms Burgess who spoke up.

"So we will have to find someone new?", She sighed in annoyance. "This hassle is the last thing we need with the wedding coming up."

Her tone made her swallow hard, turning her eyes to the floor.

"Grace, leave the girl be.", Mr. Shelby argued. His tone softened, when he returned to her.

"Congratulations.", He offered. "We wish you and your fiancé all the best."

His soft smile made relief wash over her.

"Thank you for letting us know so that we have time to plan in finding a replacement, even if we are sad to see you go. You are incredible with Charlie."

That was why they had hired her.

She wasn't a governess, and no nanny or nurse either. In fact, she was only a trained housemaid, but once Mr. Shelby had found out she had three younger siblings of her own, he had hired her as Charlie's caretaker, deeming her qualifications as a sister more important than those from some college or school.

Ms Burgess had disagreed at first, but the little boy had taken to her.

And now with Ms Burgess focussed on nothing but the wedding, Charlie grew ever more attached to her.

He was a beautiful boy, so soft and gentle. Other children raged with tantrums, but only ever cried when he was frightened, hungry or exhausted. He loved to be held and always tried to hold onto a part of her in return, her hair, her hand, the fabric of her clothes.

And he was getting strong fast.

Having to leave him would break her heart but before long she'd have a bunch of children of her own.

Mr Shelby had always been kind to her. Occasionally he would bend the rules or show the occasional kindness, like sending her a car to pick her up from the station after her day off, or keeping back a slice of blackberry pie only because she had once mentioned that she adored it.

Perhaps it was because she knew their secret. It was obvious, really. The way he held and watched the boy, who on paper was nothing but his fiancée's son, gave it all away. But it wasn't her place to judge so she didn't.

And she always greeted him with a smile whenever he would join her in the nursery or outside in the gardens, or when she would bring the boy to him before putting him to sleep.

This would have been the beginning of goodbye, only it wasn't.

When she visited home a few weeks later, she was met with the shocking news that her fiancé had married someone else and moved away with her to London.

The heartbreak was bad, but the shame was worse.

"I see.", Mr. Shelby said, when she sat in his home office in front of him, her cheeks wet as she tried very hard to keep her voice composed.

The sudden ending of her engagement meant she needed employment once more and it made her cheeks burn to ask for it.

Mr. Shelby sighed deeply, smoke escaping his lips.

"We have already found someone.", He mumbled, making her heart drop.

He was a good employer and paid well, but she couldn't blame him, could she now?

"However, the change wouldn't be good for Charlie. You may continue your employment here."

Relief made her sniffle once more.

"Now, now. No more of that, eh?", He insisted, getting up and walking around the desk.

From his own suit pocket, he produced his handkerchief and dabbed her cheeks gently.

"There. I know all too well how betrayal by someone you thought you loved hurts.", He said, his voice even softer than it normally was when speaking to her.

His hand lingered on the side of her face from where it had tilted her face upward.

It was so warm, and his eyes, those eyes the other servants claimed to be cold, were filled with nothing but compassion.

His thumb traced her cheekbone.

"But let me promise you this: while it is a hard lesson, it is a lesson you will never forget."

A lot of people had said a lot of things in the last few days, and she hadn't believed them. In a way, she didn't really believe that a man like him could have his heart broken too, but here he was, admitting it to her. And somehow she knew it was the truth.

He only removed his hand when Ms Burgess entered, visibly upset about some order of flowers.

Their wedding was shortly after Christmas and yet she wanted non-seasonal floral arrangements, which proved to be rather difficult.

"Congratulations, Mr Shelby.", She offered when she saw him in the corridor.

He turned in the spot, seeing her beam at him with the basket of clean laundry in her arm.

"What are you doing with that, eh?", He asked.

"Pitching in."

A lot of things had fallen off the edge in light of all the work that had to be done to make sure today would be absolutely perfect.

"That's not your job.", He reminded her.

Without another word, he took it from her hands.

"I'm glad to help. A lot of the maids are too busy.", She argued. "I'd feel awful if I didn't help at least a little bit."

Once she had placed the sheets in the large wardrobe in the corridor and the towels in the appropriate bathrooms, all absolutely perfect for the guests.

"I can take that now.", She assured him. "You are probably missed downstairs."

Mr. Shelby scoffed and shook his head.

"They can drink my champagne on their own."

So he followed her back in the nursery where she took over from Jane, the maid who had actually been supposed to take care of the towels. But she had been on her feet since three a.m. that morning so a little chance to sit and get a bite to eat was more than welcome.

"Sorry, Mr. Shelby.", She said at once.

"'s alright.", He assured her as he sat down on the other chair.

Still, Jane rushed to leave, leaving the three of them.

"Shall we show your father how well you are doing with your walking, Charlie?", She asked, kneeling down in front of the boy before turning to the father again.

"He can almost do it on his own."

Giving Charlie one hand of hers to hold, while the other was braced against the wall, he could hold his balance.

Then step by step, he moved forward towards his toy horse.

With a soft smile, Mr. Shelby crouched down too, opening his arms.

"Come here, Charlie!", He encouraged, making the boy change directions. That meant he had to abandon the safety of the wall.

Her hand went to his other hand, but Mr. Shelby shook his head.

"Let him try with one hand.", He instructed and so she did.

Charlie leaned heavily into her arm, but kept taking his steps, until he was in his father's arms.

"Well done. Now back again.", He instructed, offering Charlie only one hand to hold onto.

And once more Charlie made his way across the small space between them.

As she stretched out her hands, she glanced up and saw his eyes, focussed not on his son, but on her. And she smiled before focussing her attention back on that darling little boy.

The bad news came in the middle of chaos, although chaos seemed to be their constant state. Right after the wedding, the new Mrs Shelby was determined to start working on the foundation. While Mr Shelby’s money was the ticket into polite society, this work would keep them there, of that she was sure and so she poured every waking minute into it, and everytime she came to ask if perhaps she wanted to join her on a walk with Charlie or bathe or feed him, she was turned away. Some days, Mr Shelby saw him more than his mother did and that was saying something.

And so it was him she turned to, with the letter in hand.

He leaned back against the windowsill as he read through what her mother had written.

“How old is your aunt?”, he wanted to know.

“Thirty - six.”, she responded, wringing her hands.

“And now your mother wants you to go and help her?”

She nodded.

“She can’t possibly do the household chores with a broken hip, and rear four children, Sir.”

“No, she can’t.”, he said with a sigh before sitting down at his desk.

For a moment, he seemed to consider the implications, then he nodded.

“And you’d take that on? Four children and a household, all the while playing nurse?”

That wasn’t a difficult question at all.

“Of course, Sir! I don’t want to leave, but it’s family. That's what family is supposed to do."

Her words brought a hint of a smile to his lips.

“That is very kind of you.”, he told her, making her cheeks flush. “But the truth is, I don’t want to see you go. I think it would be bad for Charlie.”

All softness had gone from his voice and he met her gaze with the same determination she had seen him use with his brothers

She opened her mouth to argue, but he waved her off.

“But since I understand your situation, and the conflict it brings, I would like to make you an offer.”

Those demanding blue eyes met hers again and she shuddered in anticipation.

“I’ll pay for your aunt to hire some woman from the village to take care of her household and children. And I will increase your pay by 15% as I know you send all your earnings back to your family so that your mother won’t have to work so much. That increase would let her take another day off about another day a week, no? During that time she too can help your aunt.”

“Mr. Shelby-”, she insisted breathlessly, “that’s too much to ask! I couldn’t possibly accept that!”

But he only shook his head.

“Don’t you worry. You just stay right here and tend to Charlie. The costs of letting you go would be far higher, to all of us.”

She tried to argue once more, but he wouldn’t have it and instead sent her off with a small smile, feeling dizzy from her luck.

It was awful. No, it was worse than awful. It was horrific.

Mrs Shelby had been so proud, so happy when it came time to leave for the foundation dinner, only to -

She hadn’t believed it at first, not even when Mary told her. Only when bit by bit, the Shelbys came home.

It took three days for anyone to spy Mr. Shelby.

There had been strict instructions from his sister that no one was to talk to him, not even to offer their condolences. He wouldn’t want that.

There was some comfort though, as Charlie seemed blissfully oblivious to everything, babbling and playing, giggling whenever she sung “This is how the Lady rides” and bounced him on her lap. She had been doing that when she saw him standing in the door and profusely apologised, with a burning face and a tightening chest.

It had been on the mourning of the fourth day. He was wearing nothing but a working man's shirt and old saddleworn trousers, his eyes red and his cheeks sunken.

The poor man had lost his wife and here she was making his son laugh until he was breathless.

It just wasn’t right. It couldn’t be right.

But instead of scolding her, of screaming or even striking her for her inappropriate behaviour, he had only ever placed a hand on her arm to sooth her, crouched down beside his son, stroked his hair and asked her to continue.

It hadn’t been easy, at least not until Charlie was laughing again, but when she brought him up again, he had thrown himself into her chest, his whole body trembling with giggles.

But Mr. Shelby hadn’t minded. Instead, he had only watched, his hand staying on her arm, his eyes on his son.

“You’re a Godsend.”, he had called her on that fourth day before leaving, the hand moving to cup her cheek. And then he was gone.

But he returned on the fifth day, and on the sixth and seventh and on every day thereafter, joining her in the nursery.

Sometimes, he’d hold his son, sometimes he’d help her dress him or hold him or feed him. Sometimes he preferred to watch.

But he always returned.

For weeks it went like this, and she was the only person apart from his son, sister and aunt that he talked to. And the only adult he looked in the eyes while doing it.

She had seen him shrug off his aunt’s hand on his arm, while his own found her shoulder or back, brushed against her fingers as they exchanged toys or clothes, just as he never really met his sister’s eyes, while they didn’t shy away from hers.

A godsend, he called her, a blessing, a stroke of luck, once even saying that she was the only thing that still held all this together.

She had tried to argue, but he had insisted. She cared for Charlie and that was all that mattered now. He hadn’t allowed her room for argument in that, and in his situation, she couldn’t blame him for putting his son above all others.

“Without you, all this would fall apart.”, he had said and she hadn’t even considered leaving, until it was her only thought- from one night to the other.

It was the noise that woke her, the shouting and slamming of doors.

Her eyes darted to the door that connected her small bedroom to Charlie's nursery, before she remembered that he was staying with Mr. Shelby's older brother and his wife.

Wrapping a scarf around her shoulders, she stepped out of her bedroom in search of the cause for this commotion.

In the chilly darkness of the corridor, she could hear them long before she could see them, arguing in the hall.

"Listen to me- eh!", Mr. Shelby roared, but stopped talking as soon as he heard her approaching.

She could see him standing close to the foot of the stairs, wearing crumpled trousers, his bare chest revealing tattoos she had never known him to have, his dark hair ruffled.

Her eyes followed his outstretched hand to a woman who was standing in the middle of the hall.

She had never seen her before but it wasn't difficult to place her, after all, a Russian Duchess as a houseguest made the rounds quickly.

She was wearing Mr. Shelby's coat and little more, her messy dark hair fell down her shoulders, her dark makeup was slightly smudged and her black eyes shone in the darkness.

"Oi,", he called out, "Back to bed, now!", He ordered and she was about to obey, when the Duchess laughed and stretched her arm out, and in it she held a gun, casually as if it was a pen.

All air was knocked from her lungs and she froze.

"You there, pour us a drink!", She insisted.

Her heart thundered in her chest, as she felt hawkish dark eyes locking in on her.

When her dark lips turned into a smile, she felt her stomach coil.

"No, get back to bed!", Mr. Shelby insisted.

Her eyes darted back and forth between them. She knew his word was final, but he wasn't the one with the gun.

"I told you to come here!", the Duchess snarled, her voice strained with impatience.

Her chest tightened as she felt frightened tears come to her eyes.

Her whole body trembled as she took a few uncertain steps forward, not daring to take her eyes away from the woman.

She had barely reached the middle of the stairs, when Mr Shelby stopped her, blocking her descent with his body as his hand found her waist, feeling her body tremble.

"Go to bed.", He told her. "Go."

"She has a gun.", She whimpered, blinking the tears away.

"You should listen to her, Tommy!", the Duchess giggled.

While glancing down, she saw her twirl her hair around the gun as if it was nothing.

"You know in Russia, the lady of the house took care to have pretty maids and ugly nannies.", She chirped, as if this was as casual a setting as a lesson in good manners.

It made her heart beat so fast she feared it would rip through her chest. Either that or give out forever.

But it was a desperate, almost painful hope that made her look up through teary eyes at the only other person in the room, the only person that might save her.

He’d tell her she was wrong, he’d take the gun from her, he’d make her stop.

Mr. Shelby's jaw tightened, but he kept his distance, his eyes following the gun.

"The only men who had pretty nannies were the widowers. That way there were no problems."

"Come on!", Mr. Shelby insisted, practically pushing her back up the stairs, while blocking the Duchess from sight, his hand burning in her back and arm.

But he couldn't stop her from hearing the other woman's venom.

"I do wonder why you hired your pretty little nanny far before your wife died."

"Go, go. It's alright.", He promised, as they came close to the top. "Go to bed. I won't let her bother you."

She ran the last few steps, and as soon as she was around the corner she pressed herself against the wall, but even that didn't still her trembling hands.

Move, she told herself. Go. Hide. Do as he said.

But her body had developed a will of its own, trembling like a leaf and frozen to the spot, as if all its strength was focussed on not crying out in fear or sobbing in desperation. She clasped a hand over her mouth and tried to calm her breathing.

She could still hear them arguing, the Duchess teasing and Mr. Shelby trying to calm her down.

"I thought it was me you wanted to dress up as her but it was that little thing up there all along.", She heard and her hand muffled her whimper.

It was as if the Duchess had ripped open a drawer of her memory and had spread their contents all over the floor, forcing her to pick them all up again, look them over and rearrange them.

Only on second glance, in this light, they all looked different, not explicit but doubtful.

He had always been a good and kind employer, but what if there was some truth in what the Duchess had said?

What if there even was a hint?

It wasn't right- it couldn't be right.

And she couldn't allow herself to be pulled in.

So she had kept an eye out, wrote her letters, a few to the announcements in the papers, and another to him to explain her reasoning.

It was easier to write than saying it to his face. But of course, she couldn't hope to evade him forever.

Mr Sheoby came while they were spending some time outside, sitting in the open air on a thick woollen blanket, both her and Charlie bundled up against the lingering yet fading winter cold.

The first flowers had begun to come out now, and not even this place could escape the wind of change that carried spring each year.

Beside her, Charlie was busy playing with the little wooden cubes, happily babbling to himself. That made it hard- harder than it should have been.

She heard the steps before she saw the shadow, easily identifiable to her. She still could not meet his eyes, even if it was rude.

When she didn't react to his satisfaction, he decided to clear his throat.

"Might I join?", He asked impatiently.

"Of course, Mr. Shelby. I'm sure you son would like that."

He sat down far too close to her for her liking, the fabric of his trousers almost brushing against her knee in the process.

Instead of paying attention to Charlie, he simply stared at her.

She didn't do him the favour of looking at him. She couldn’t. Her cheeks were burning with shame.

"I gather you received my letter.”, she whispered, taking a deep breath to brace herself for whatever was to come now.

"Good.", She said, staring straight ahead, to the trees and the river that lay beyond.

"I've decided to reject it."

He said it without anger, without malice. At best, he sounded annoyed that he had to deal with it in the first place, like she had somehow stretched the limitations of his patience with her request.

"You can't reject a resignation.", She insisted.

"Well I fucking do.", He said, sounding more exhausted than angry.

She took a shaky breath and focussed on the treeline. Her hands had begun to tremble again and so she clutched the fabric of her dress.

"I understand, you're upset and you have every right to be but you are needed here.”

“I want to leave.”, she insisted.

Her voice cracked and she glanced away, clutching a hand over her mouth.

But she refused to cry in front of him.

"I understand.", He said, surprisingly gentle. "I understand your wish to leave, but I can't let that happen. So I'll let you draw up a number, any number, and I will see it in your account or your family's account by the end of the week. As high as you like. You could set them up for life if you want to.”

She felt like the ground had shifted under her once more and she was falling again.

"I am not a thing to be bought and paid for.", She hissed. "I am a person and as a person, I have the right to decide and I have decided not to continue my employment here."

With you.

He stared at her with that unreadable expression of his, those cold, unyielding eyes burning into her soul.

"Are you finished?", He asked, sounding almost bored once more. "Good."

She felt her heart clench as his words.

"I won't allow you to abandon Charles and that's the end of it.", he merely stated.

"It's not yours to allow!", She said a little louder than she had intended, her voice thinning as her resolve slipped more and more.

Charlie's head peaked up and he looked to her, his own summer sky blue eyes staring at her.

"I will leave, Sir, and never come back.", She told him.

His jaw muscles tightened as he stared at her profile, his piercing gaze burning itself into her skin just like the memories of that night that burned themselves into her soul.

"I have to go now, but when I return, we talk."

"There is nothing to talk about.", She whispered as he got to his feet.

"We will talk when I return tomorrow.", He said sternly, before walking off.

Only Mr. Shelby didn’t return.

She had her suitcases packed and went down to the kitchens to retrieve the sandwiches Mrs O’Sullivan had promised her for her journey when she heard the whispers - Mr. Shelby was dead, beaten to death by thugs in the street.

It had shocked them all to their core, leaving them in paralysed uncertainty, and her in tears not for the man, but the little boy upstairs. Both parents dead within months was a harsh fate to suffer.

The truth had come later, in the form of Mrs. Thorne who had told her the truth of it. Mr Shelby was very badly hurt and might die. When she found out of her plans to leave, she had begged her to stay given the seriousness of the situation. Once they knew what would become of Mr. Shelby, they could decide what to do about a replacement.

And so she stayed, for Charlie’s sake. Otherwise he’d be left entirely without any constant person in his life and she couldn’t do that to him. But she should have done.

She had agreed with Mrs Thorne that she would stay until a decision for her replacement could be made and that meant until Mr Shelby was well enough to look through candidates again, which he actually began to do.

Once she saw that, she made preparations to leave in two weeks time.

Five days before her departure, he called her into his office.

"Have you found a new nanny for Charlie?", She asked, after sitting down across from him just like he had bid her.

Mr. Shelby shook his head.

"There's not much time left before I leave.", She told him.

His response came ever calm, ever cool.

"You won't leave."

Her heart skipped a beat.

"Mr. Shelby, we've been through this.", She said.

Too many times.

Slowly, Thomas Shelby turned back from the window and faced her, nodding towards a dark red file on his desk.

"What is that?", She asked.

"Take a read.", He said, leaning back and observing.

She felt her heart thunder as she reached for it, fearing for whatever would be found inside, but to her surprise it was a letter of enrolment to one of the best schools for young girls in the country, a school of higher education with excellent recommendation and frightening prices.

This letter was confirmation between the school and Mr. Shelby that the payment for the full enrollment of her sisters until their respective ages of graduations had been paid for.

She stared up at him wide-eyed but before she could form any response he nodded towards the folder.

“Keep reading.”, she demanded.

She turned the page and skimmed the words.

Next, she found another letter, this time to a name painfully familiar to her, a name she had heard all her life and one she had up to this point associated with kindness and generosity, with understanding of their situation.

It was the name of her landlord, or rather the man that owned the land her family lived on and farmed.

And unlike the previous letter, this deal had been sent and answered, confirming that the ownership had been transferred from him to Mr. Shelby, with an agreement not to inform the tenants and asking what was to be done about it- if they really had to remove them from the property.

The authentic signature was like a stab to her stomach and the blood in her ears began to rush.

As she had read, Mr. Shelby had moved across the desk to lean against it.

"You see that there are two ways this can go?", He asked, calmly, as her chest began to tighten.

Her lip began to tremble and she forced her burning eyes shut.

“As long as you stay here, your sisters will be taken care of. Your mother won’t need to pay a dime in rent while I will make sure they have every comfort and renovation they could possibly want. Or…-”

He needn’t spell it out.

His hand found her shoulders in an almost reassuring manner, as if he was the source of her comfort and not the sole cause of her troubles.

He took the file from her shaking hands, placing it back on his desk amongst countless others- another box ticked business deal completed.

"I knew you'd understand."

The way he sounded, filled with not just pride but relief, made her sick to her stomach.

He continued holding her shoulders between his hands as if to ease her tension, letting her look out at the vast lands of the Arrow House Estate. She had once liked the fact that one could look for miles and see nothing.

"You belong here.", He told her as if it was meant to assure her.

"Please, Mr. Shelby.", She whispered, whimpered even as her tears began to fall.

“It’s not right. It’s just not right. Let me go home. Please.”

He only sighed in response, so she tried once more. She had to.

“There are a thousand women like me, better suited to the task. Please Sir, think of your wife. She wouldn’t want-”

His grip tightened so suddenly it made her wince as he pulled her up to stand, spinning her around to face him.

She saw anger flash in his pale blue eyes, and froze as he placed a single fingers on her lips.

“Don’t.”, he said softly, and yet she wasn’t so foolish as to miss the warning that lay in them.

“You know this is for the best.”, he assured her, gentle once more as he began to stroke the tears from her cheeks.

When she shook her head, he held it between his hands until she couldn’t do so anymore.

"Why me?", She dared to ask, forcing the words out through trembling lips. “I have nothing I could offer you. Please!”

He seemed almost amused by her answer and gave his response in the way one would talk to a child.

"Because you are untouched by all the dirt, by all the filth. No blood on your hands. You are so pure."

She didn't feel pure now.

She felt filthy, body and soul.

Hot tears began to spill once more and instead of being appalled or angry, he pulled her into a tight, almost comforting embrace and let her cry, while gently stroking over the back of her head.

I should have left long ago, she thought bitterly, her fingernails digging into the palms of your hand. I should have left when you were weak and wounded and dying. I should have left and never looked back.

But she hadn’t. She had been too weak, too soft. And now it was too late.

"I know you're upset.", He soothed. "But I think you understand too. You know this is what's best for everyone. After all, I couldn't have you breaking Charlie's heart."

End.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed and as always I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Taglist

Overall

@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @chlorrox @watercolorskyy @books-livre @quarterpastmidnight @lilyevanswhore @polishcrazyone @zablife @just-a-harmless-patato @stevie75 @flyingjosephine-blog @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @alex-in-the-wilderness @babayaga67 @butterfly-skinnylegend

Tommy

@knowledgefulbutterfly @babayaga67 @signorellisantichrist @lespendy @geeksareunique @look-at-the-soul

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #dark! tommy shelby #dark!tommy #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #dark!tommy shelby x reader #dark!tommy x reader #dark!thomas shelby x reader #tatiana petrovna #dark!tatiana #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #valentineswritings #peaky blinders #i'd do anything to make you stay

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cas-kingdom · 1 year

Note

Omg omg omg I'm excited.

Can I request a Owen x daughter reader (or your OC) where she gets in trouble at school and has to get picked up and go to the firehouse? Obviously switch whatever you want but something like that!

A/N: Due to her age, I kept Owen's daughter as my OC!

"Mr. Strand, you don't seem surprised."

Owen tapped his fingers against the armrests of the uncomfortable chair he'd been forced to sit in and pressed his lips together in a thin line. Yeah. This was exactly why Gwyn usually attended these meetings with him.

"I'm not," he said, smiling tightly at the woman sat on the other side of the desk. "Maybe a bit. I mean, Connie's a little spitfire, I'm sure you know that. If someone was mean to her..." He shrugged and shifted in the chair. "Yeah, no, I'm not surprised."

As expected, the woman sat across the desk, Mrs. Winslow, the principle of his eight-year-old's school, was unamused. Lacing her fingers together on her lap, she rose a delicate eyebrow and leaned slightly forward, as though not quite having processed his answer yet. "Mr. Strand, your daughter punched a boy in the face."

Owen pursed his lips. "Because he told her girls couldn't be firefighters," he said matter-of-factly. "Just cause, if I may say so." Mrs. Winslow's frown darkened. "I may not," he corrected. Clearing his throat a little awkwardly, and once again wishing Gwyn hadn't been caught up in a meeting when the school had called, Owen sat up straighter in his chair. He grimaced at the discomfort of his backside. Did they make the chairs hard as nail on purpose?

"Yeah," he said, "I'm sorry. Rest assured, her mother and I will come up with some sort of punishment for her."

Mrs. Winslow stared at him a while longer before sighing and turning to her computer. She clicked a few things. "We're suspending Connie for four days, I'm afraid."

Owen exhaled. "Right," he said. Figures. "And is the boy being suspended?"

"There was no physicality involved on his side."

He failed to see the point, and his face made that clear. "So...is he being punished at all?"

"That will be up to his parents." The roles had been reversed now, with Owen not exactly finding her response agreeable. When his lack of an immediate response caused Mrs. Winslow to return her gaze back to him, she turned in her seat to face him. "Mr. Strand—"

"Bullying is bullying, Mrs. Winslow. Physical or not, works both ways. If teachers aren't punishing kids for being little crap bags then no wonder the kids are acting on it themselves. Food for thought."

Mrs. Winslow looked all but shocked, and Owen couldn't restrain from chuckling softly. He stood to his feet, considered a handshake, decided against it. "I'll leave now. Four days?"

"Four days."

Connie had been waiting outside Mrs. Winslow's office for however long Owen had been in there, swinging her little legs back and forth. She didn't often get in trouble, and she'd certainly never punched anyone before, so Owen couldn't say he wasn't slightly surprised...but still. She was her father's daughter. Had to count for something.

He shut the door and gave Connie a smile, holding out his hand for her to take. "Hey, Sunshine," he said, "heard you got into some trouble."

Connie scrunched her face up as they walked down the corridor. "Sam said girls couldn't be firefighters so I hit him hard, just like you told me to."

Had he? A brief memory of something involving alcohol and a little family get-together at his house swirled around his head.

He winced. He had.

"Yeah," he said hesitantly. "Daddy may have been a little...inebriated when he said that." He paused and turned to pick Connie up, swinging her around so she could hang onto his back. "Really, Con, sweetie, that was a bad call. We don't punch people."

Her little voice came by his ear, confused and noticeably disappointed. "Ever?"

"Not until you're older." He pat her knee. "Bad news is, Mom's gonna want to ground you. That means no TV for at least a week. Good news is you don't have to go to school for four whole days, and you're gonna spend twenty-four hours of those with me at the Firehouse. ‘Cause girls make the best firefighters.”

"Hell yeah!”

Another wince and a quick glance around to ensure Mrs. Winslow wasn't sneaking after them. “Ooh, okay, Daddy was a little inebriated when he said that word also, so let’s pretend it doesn’t exist from now on. 'Specially around Mom. Okay? Okay. That's my girl.”

Lone Star Masterpost

#911 lone star #911: lone star #Owen strand #Owen x oc #Owen strand x oc #Owen x reader #Owen strand x reader #reader fic #oc fic #daughter reader #daughter!reader #daughter oc #daughter!oc #mine

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vivwritesfics · 2 months

Text

Chase It

It was the third date, and it was terrifying. Terrifying and exhilarating. She loved it, she loved him.

F1 x twisters lmao

Warnings: hints of smut, slight cowboy hat rule

Viv's AUgust Event

Daniel Ricciardo was crazy. But he was that good kind of crazy that got your heart racing and your blood pumping. Being around him was exhilarating.

The way he asked her on a third date, she should have known something was going on, should have known he had something planned. But she agreed. She said yes, she got dressed and she set off to his ranch.

Their first date had been in the hayloft. She hadn't planned on sleeping with him, but the way he laid her against the hay (covered in a blanket), she wrapped her legs around him kissed his neck as he rutted into her.

She pulled up to the little house in the middle of the ranch and climbed out of her car. Daniel's ranch was lovely. He had so much land and he filled it with cattle and horses. The house was big enough for four people, but Daniel was the only person that lived there.

She walked onto the wrap around porch. On their second date they'd sat on the swing seat and just talked. Well, talked until she opened that big belt buckle and freed him from his jeans. Daniel had kissed her as she moved her hand along his dick.

She knocked on his door. A few seconds later and the door opened. There Daniel stood, cowboy hat on his head and grin on his face. "Hi honey," he said and pulled her inside. He kissed her quickly as he kicked the door shut.

"Give me a couple minutes and we'll get going," he said, taking his hat from his head and placing it on her own. A promise of things to come later.

"Where are we going?" She asked as he grabbed his keys from the hook. He didn't answer as he grabbed bottles of water from his fridge.

Arm around her shoulder, he led her outside and over to his truck. His truck was fully kitted out for something, she just didn't know what. Every time she'd asked, he'd just laughed and tapped her nose.

He held her hand as she climbed into the truck. "Danny." She pushed her fingers through his dark curls. "Where are we going?"

He squeezed her knee. "You'll see."

She never expected to go storm chasing. Never expected to race towards that grey, swirling mass. The wind was whipping the truck, but they were heavy enough to be stable. The windscreen wipers moved rapidly, clearing the windscreen for Daniel to see where he was going. "We're just going to get close, right?" She shouted over the sound of the wind.

Daniel didn't answer. She was getting pretty sick of this, but he wasn't slowing the truck. She held onto the dashboard and shut her eyes as Daniel drove into the eye of the tornado.

Pressing a button, the truck anchored itself down. "Open your eyes, honey," he said as he placed his hand on her knee.

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes.

It was incredible. The storm raged around them, but Daniel didn't care. "Holy shit," she whispered as she leaned forward to get a better look.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Daniel said, squeezing her knee.

In two seconds he had a hold of her. He pulled her onto his lap and gripped her hips. Her arms were wrapped around his neck as she leaned in to brush her lips against his own. "It's brilliant, Danny," she whispered and kissed him.

His hands gripped her so damn tight, holding her against him as he kissed her. He kissed across her jaw and down her neck as the tornado moved past them. Her eyes were fixed on it as it got further and further away from them.

"Let's head home," she mumbled as her fingers drummed against his big, shiny belt buckle.

Daniel took his hat from her head and placed it back on her own. They could have just climbed into the back seat of the truck and fucked like there so no tomorrow. But Daniel wanted to lay her somewhere comfortable. After the hayloft and the swing seat, she deserved it.

Releasing the anchor on the truck, Daniel drove her back to his ranch. He sang along to the music on the radio as she watched the storm in the rearview mirror. One storm and she was hooked.

He parked up in front of the farm house and climbed out of his truck. Ever the gentleman, he opened the door and held her hand as she stepped down from the truck. There was still wind and rain, and he spun her around before leading her to the house.

His lips were on hers even before he had the door open. He fumbled with the key before he pushed it into the lock and got the door open.

"Fuck, honey," he grunted as he walked her in and kicked the door shut behind her. "Tell me you'll be mine." He walked her back until she was resting against the arm of the brown leather couch.

She sat on the arm of the couch, wrapped her arms around his neck and fell backwards, pulling him on top of her. She wrapped her legs around his (slutty man) waist and stared into his pretty eyes. "I'm yours, Danny," she said and ran her fingers through his hair and knocked his Stetson to the floor. "I'm all yours."

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lambilegs · 16 days

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do you do sfw lee requests?

bc oh. oh boy do I think that high school sweethearts lee x reader is so so charming and hey, maybe I’m just a sucker for sweet tooth rotting fluff (also wlw duh)

you and Lee who had been inseparable, tied at the hip “best friends” for a while. you and Lee who fell for each other at the same time, who held hands under the table, who pretended to be straight until after high school where you moved in together immediately.

Lee had always been anxious. but you made her anxious thoughts go away when you lay your head on her chest. Lee had always been scared of her future, but you’re here now. you’re holding her hand through it all.

thank you 🙏

high school lee harker x reader living out their queer coming-of-age storyline

📖𓍢ִ໋🀦✎ᝰ.✉︎𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

(oh my god??? this is so sweet I am in love. (and yes hehe I definitely do sfw requests!!)

lee who always felt a bit unsettled in high school, finally becoming more aware of social cues, expectations, behaviours, and feeling herself so distanced from performing those naturally

sure, she had a tight knit group of friends, but she didn't feel like she moved through the world, through interactions, as easily as they did

but, you were there. the peer in her history class who directly pointed out her behaviours, but in a way that was free, casual, that made her feel like there was nothing wrong

you were patient, taking your time with getting to know her, and reaching through the layers of stoic distance and hesitation

it started off slow... asking her if she wanted to go to study hall together, since you both had a spare period, and watching her carefully as she poured over her infamously meticulous essays (seriously, everyone knew she was the teachers' favourite in the history and law classes). then, it turned into seeking her out at lunch and lying that you got an extra cookie from the vending machine and you thought she'd like it (you once saw her eating it during morning period, and you didn't even like the flavour), blushing bright red at the sight of her friends confusedly looking between you two.

slowly, she gave back to you, in both subtle and clear ways. she started walking you home, even though it added an extra twenty minutes to her walk. she started helping you with your essays, showing you the right ways to do citations. when she found out gossip had spread about you through the halls, she went to the perpetrator and asked them to stop, her eyes frozen on the tiles and everyone shocked to see lee harker speak up... and for someone else?

you started meeting outside of class, hanging out on the train tracks of your boring town, visiting the pond that you walked by everyday after school, and sharing meals at the nearby plaza. she listened to you like no one else ever had, hanging onto your every word as though she were watching you in the process of creating a master artwork. and you listened to her, and god, how that made her feel... like what she had to say could be taken seriously, and not just be dismissed. she didn't have to be infantilized just for being seventeen years old and less outgoing than her peers. someone saw her as a person worth paying attention to. it started off slow, with her only sharing tidbits of her life with you. the day she confessed to you to the weight of religious guilt that loomed over her day and night, in the privacy of your childhood bedroom, she had never felt so tenderly held.

soon, everyone knew you two were attached at the hips. you spent the summer break together, visiting the gas station before heading to the park, where you guys would talk. and talk... that's all you guys did. constantly talk about your days, your families, school, what your futures beheld. she talked to you of her past dreams of becoming an actress -- when you asked why, she said she had spent her life wanting to be anywhere but here, transported into a new world, and she thought being an actress could do that. now, she said, she thought about law enforcement, wanting to help people and make a change she felt she was too limited to do in your guys' town. you told her if anyone could do it, she could, and she shuddered at the sheer hope you ignited in her.

slowly, though, things changed... you started thinking more of what she thought of you, in ways you didn't with your other friends. the innocence, or perhaps ignorance, towards your feelings, that existed as a safe veil over your eyes, began to lift. suddenly, you wondered if she thought you were pretty. you found yourself longing to know what she thought of romance -- if she pined for it, wanted it, and if so, who she wanted it with. when she received a bashful confession through a candy gram, you went home and cried into your pillow.

little did you know, you were just crossing the threshold into a room she had occupied alone for years. she knew, two weeks in, what it was she felt for you. and here you were, nearly a year later, struggling to comprehend it

but, once you did, every single moment with her felt more fleeting. every walk home felt like a mere second, every lunch break felt like a quick snack, every moment with her held an import that you could barely handle, using every spare second to decipher her and what she felt

your secret feelings crumbled to the wind when you discovered someone had asked her to your school's fall formal. your friends told you the rumour was that she had agreed. that night, on the phone, when she had admitted considering it, you hung up on her. the next day, she practically cornered you in the halls, focused gaze zeroed in on you. you couldn't contain it. you broke down, weeping to her about your feelings, begging her to not tell anyone, fear churning in your stomach of what your peers, what your community, would think of you.

she hugged you, took care of you (when did she not?) and with a shaky voice, declared, "I like you too"

eager youth you both were, immediately confessing to wanting to be each other's girlfriends, whirling into complete bliss together. the autumn of senior year was spent with tenderly written love notes left in each other's lockers, interlaced fingers beneath the cafeteria table, shy first kisses exchanged behind the bleachers. lee carrying your bags home whenever you guys walked, letting you sit on the back of her bike, and finally admitting why she couldn't have you over, why things with her mom were so hard. you bought her her favourite candy without her having to ask and you called her to wish her luck on the evenings of long studying sessions. you sent her a pathetically romantic candygram that she carried in her wallet, which really had nothing much but some spare change for bus money and the receipts of all your dates.

sure, there was pain in it too. your respective friend groups were privy to your relationship, but the rest of the world wasn't. your guys' relationship forced lee to acknowledge yet another big part of her life she couldn't share with her mother. your guys' shared moments were things you had to reserve to nooks and crannies. you couldn't tape the photobooth pictures of you guys on your wall, you couldn't declare to nosey relatives that you had someone who loved you. when it got hard, you two would talk about all the things you'd do once you left town and went to college in a year. the way you'd hold hands under the sun.

and in what flashed by your guys' eyes, a year passed. and finally, you walked with her, far from the bleachers, hand in hand, back to the home you guys built. the home that finally had the pictures hung up.

#bae I am so sorry this is so long #I truly think I just... cannot shut up LMFAOOOO #anyways I hope you like this hehe #it's extremely “sunburn” book inspired oh my god #and I honestly really relished in writing this because it gave me a half hour of being nostalgic about and reliving my own high school year #a lot of the stuff I mentioned were things I did (ie. crush on a bestie LOL) or that my friends and I did :'') but yeah hope you like it!!#listening to “faded” while writing this also rlly encouraged the nostalgia thing #lee harker #lee harker x reader #longlegs #longlegs 2024 #not proofread ;-;#edit: also?? omg this very much “geu yeoreum” inspired pls watch #s.writing #request

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sheeple · 1 year

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Miracles don't exist | 6: Christmas is in the air

Genre(s): Riddle!reader / Slytherin!reader / kinda slowburn / little happy moments Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Theodore Nott x Reader / Harry Potter x Riddle!reader Summary: Being the Dark Lord's daughter and raised under the strict supervision of the Malfoy's is no easy life. Especially if you start crushing on your father's arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. And that while being engaged to one of his follower’s sons. Warning(s): Nasty Ron / Soft Theodore [Masterlist] [Mini masterlist] [Playlist]

As you put the books you no longer need back onto their respective shelves, you feel a presence behind you. A silent groan escapes your lips as you turn around annoyed.

The yule ball is coming up and ─ after some awkward dancing lessons from Snape ─ everybody is hyperfocused on finding a date. Because Merlin forbids you turn up alone.

Draco has a shit-eating grin on his face as he leans against a bookshelf. "Guess who I just asked and said yes."

You give him a glare, not caring about this subject at all. "Parkinson?"

"How did you know?", he asks bewildered.

With a roll of your eyes, you turn towards him, "oh please, that girl has been giving you heart eyes since day one. If she didn't say yes, she'd be hexed."

Making your way back to your secluded corner of the library, you slump down into your chair and continue with the essay for potions. Draco, annoyingly, follows after you, taking place in the chair next to you. "I bet you also got a date."

You scoff, "who the hell would ask me?"

"Uhm, many boys would? You're good-looking", he states like it's obvious.

"I want someone to take me because they like me, not because they think I am pretty." Your whispers get harsher with each word, and you feel Madam Pince gloom behind a shelf.

Draco huffs. "Like who? One of those Durmstrang blokes that you always seem to hang out with? What's his name, Gollum?"

"It's Gjol, thank you very much. And no." You feel your cheeks head up for no particular reason.

"You can't be serious. Are you seriously wanting that big dumb hunk to ask you out? Pathetic." Draco huffs. He leans back and slumps in the chair.

Slamming your book shut, you hastily pack your bag. "I am not going to be dealing with your temper tantrum, Malfoy."

Hightailing out of the library, you ignore Madam Pince's scoldings and walk until you can't anymore. Your socks are wet as you stand to your ankles deep in snow. You run a frustrated hand over your face.

Why can't you just be left alone? Why do all these people want something of you? Your mother is in Azkaban and your father is dead, what more would people want? You're literally a child.

"Are you okay?", someone asks while they lay a hand on your shoulder.

Not noticing Theodore followed after you when he saw you leaving the library in a hurry, you yell and with one easy swoop throw him over your shoulder.

Theodore groans as he lands on his back and snow soaks through his cloak. You gasp and slap a hand over your mouth. "Theodore! I am so sorry!"

You help the brown-haired boy up, brushing the snow off his shoulders. He holds his shoulder, rubbing the sore spot he landed on. "Where did you learn that?", he chuckles.

With an awkward chuckle of your own, you scratch behind your ear. "In the summer, I snuck off every Wednesday night to go to self-defence classes in the muggle village a couple miles away. I didn't feel safe at home anymore, and since we can't use our wands outside school grounds..."

Theodore's smile falls and his eyes fill with concern. "(Y/n)..."

"It's okay! Really! You know how it is. Doesn't matter. Why did you follow me in the first place?" You shake your head, trying to switch the subject.

Theodore's frown doesn't falter completely, but it gets replaced by something more nervous. "Well... I heard you talking- I was wondering─", the boy runs a frustrated hand through his hair, "do you want to go to the Yule Ball with me? As in a date, that is..."

You are speechless, looking rather sheepish at the boy. "Is this because of what happened over the summer? Please, don't feel obliged, Theodore."

"I am one hundred per cent genuine, (Y/n). One dance, that's all I ask. After that I'm content."

"One dance?", you question, still a bit unsure.

"One dance", he confirms.

What harm can one dance do? "Okay, yeah I'll go with you."

A bright smile grows on Theodore's face. "Great. Thank you. See you in class?"

You wave as you watch him leave, and a deep breath leaves your lips in puffs of clouds. One dance can't do harm. But you don't have a dress... You told Aunt Cissy that it wasn't necessary to send one because you weren't going. But now that you have a date it's too late to send an owl home to ask for a dress.

Just as your eyes scan around the grounds, you spot a familiar trio going down to Hargit's hut. You can't believe you're doing this, but you know no other girl ─ or person at that ─ who would go dress shopping with you.

"Hermione wait up!"

While Hermione cruises the dresses at Gladrags Wizardwear, you are in the dressing room trying on all different kinds of dresses. It's a wonder she agreed to go with you, but after an encouraging nod from Harry, she agreed ─ reluctantly.

"So... who's your date actually?", she asks, pushing another dress into the fitting room.

You suck in a breath. "Theodore."

"Nott?!"

You slide open the thick velvet curtain, revealing the emerald green dress. "Yeah... he asked me. I declined at first, but he said that he only wanted one dance. That wouldn't hurt. Right?" You turn towards the Gryffindor girl, who has her arms folded over each other. "This isn't it."

"Isn't that also the guy you're supposed to marry?", she asks while you're back in the dressing room and putting on the next dress. You give a hum of confirmation.

You peek your head out of the curtain to nod. "Yup", you pop the 'p', "but he said it had nothing to do with that. What colour is your dress, by the way."

"Pink. I heard that the theme is white and silver, so I wanted something that fitted nicely with the theme."

You hum again, looking at all your options. Among the many green and black dresses, a beautiful purple iridescent flowy dress that's enchanted so that it looks like the fabric moves on its own. With a bright smile, you swing the curtains away and twirl around. "I think this is the one."

Rapping on the window makes the both of you turn around and Gjol waves excitedly at you. He enters the shop and exclaims something in his native tongue as he takes you in. Bjarne, who followed after him, chuckles and replies something back.

"Aren't you a vision? Please don't tell me you have a date for the ball."

You look at him guilty. "I'm sorry, Theodore asked me."

Gjol tsk's, shaking his head disapprovingly. "Lucky, lucky guy. Then promise me a dance."

A giggle escapes your lips as you look at Hermoine giddily. "Okay, I promise."

He excitedly kisses both of your heating-up cheeks before exiting the shop, tugging Bjarne after him and talking animatedly with his friend.

You clutch both of your cheeks, turning to Hermoine, "are all Durmstrang boys like that."

She comes close and giggles. "Yeah...", she sighs dreamily, "Victor and I- we don't really talk when we're together."

You smile brightly towards Hermione. A pang of sadness goes through your body. Even though you know it is for the best to stay away from people who aren't in your immediate circle, you miss this. Just a girlfriend to go shopping and do girly things with.

Pulling yourself away from her, you walk back towards the fitting room. "I'll get changed so I can pay and you can get back to your friends." You turn your head towards her, looking over your shoulder. "Thank you for coming with me, Hermione. You don't know how much it means to me."

You anxiously flatten any wrinkles from your dress as you walk up the stairs. Theodore came knocking at your door a while ago, asking if you were ready. But you told him to just wait for you before the Great Hall, that you were almost finished.

Daphne helped to put some stars in your hair, further adding to the ethereal look you were giving. At least, that's what she said. At first, you thought it was too much, way too formal for a school party. But Daphne, again the angel that she is, reassured you that it was the Yule Ball, for Merlin's sake!

You walk up the steps and see Theodore talking with Draco and Blaise, and when one of them points towards you. When you see the look in Theodore's eyes, you are glad you didn't chicken out.

He looks like a fish searching for food with his mouth wide open, gaping at you. Blaise whistles as he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his robes.

"I like your dress robes", you say softly, feeling overwhelmed by all the stares of the people around you. They're nothing special, just black robes with a black blouse underneath and a black tie.

Finding his voice again, Theodore takes your hand and makes you spin. "Don't you just look absolutely divine? Like a Goddess descended from the heavens, gracing us humble peasants with her presence."

You feel your face heat up at his compliments and hand your face in your free hand, turning away from him to calm down your smile. Which person wouldn't like to be called so beautiful that he says you look like a Goddess?

Theodore holds out his arm and you wrap your hands around his bicep, letting him lead you into the Great Hall.

You never expected to have such fun with Theodore. He excitedly twirls you around, dipping you, and lifting you up to the music. One dance becomes two ─ with an intermission dance with Gjol ─ and before you know it, you've danced and partied hours with Theodore.

When Theodore has gone to grab the both of you drinks, you spot Harry and Ron and their dates sitting at one of the tables looking quite miserable.

"Shouldn't you be dancing?", you ask with a smile, your hands clasped behind your back.

Both boys turn towards you, one with a smile and the other annoyed. Harry shoots from his stool, straightening out his robes. He stutters out your name, "yo-you look very pretty."

You giggle, looking down. "Thank you, Harry. You look quite handsome yourself. The both of you." You smile at Ron, which sends him off.

"Shut your filthy Death Eater mouth, Black."

Theodore appears out of nowhere with his wand drawn and pointed at Ron. "Say that again, blood traitor, and I'll hex you into tomorrow." A dark, and murderous glint is in his eyes as Theodore's knuckles turn white from how hard he is gripping his wand.

Gasping, you turn around and push against his chest. "Theo! Don't!"

He glances down at you and when he sees the concerned look in your eyes, he drops his wand to his side, but not pocketing it. You grab his arm and pull him away, out of the Great Hall.

"Where are we going?", he asks as you lead him up a pair of stairs instead of to the dungeons.

You answer with a small smile, "you'll see."

After climbing some stairs and unlocking some doors, you end up on a secluded rooftop with plants and benches around. You pull him towards the bench farthest away from the door and let yourself drop down on the stone bench.

Theodore follows your lead and looks out onto the valley that surrounds Hogwarts. Suddenly, a bubbling laugh escapes him and you turn around to him with raised brows.

"You called me 'Theo'."

Heat shoots up to your cheeks and you turn back around, realising your obvious mistake. Instead, you deflect the topic. "You shouldn't threaten someone with hexing them."

Theodore rolls his eyes. "Come on, he was asking for it. Weasely called you a Death Eater!"

The name makes you flinch. Theodore drops his rigid posture and shuffles closer to you. "I'm sorry", he whispers, grabbing your hand.

You let him, dropping your head to his shoulder and enjoying the cold nipping at your skin. And before you know it, you've fallen asleep against Theodore's hot-like-a-furnace body.

Taglist (bold means I couldn’t tag you): @the0doreslover @lqndkxlmqma @st4rrry @choppedpartymuffinwinner @dianaswanda @literallyobessedd @lestat-whore

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izgnanik-a · 3 months

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PlayDate Tea Party

cw: Trans!Gaz, trans pregnancy, parent fic blurb, both Gaz and John are single fathers at the whims of their children, endless flirting, fluff, and cuteness, Male x TMale

Don't like? Don't read.

When Kyle had planned to be pregnant, he tried to expect the unexpected. But as a first time parent, there was nothing he was ready for even if he'd read every pamphlet and book there was. His recovery process had been nothing easy, and he was thankful for the friends he had supporting him.

When he'd first laid his eyes on his little baby girl, he'd fallen in love with her all over again. From the moment she started kicking, and listening to him while she developed in his stomach, he was in love. But finally holding her in his arms, there wasn't a thing he wouldn't do for her.

There had been trials and errors to his parenting, relationship fails, and being alone with his daughter seemed the safest option. Five long years felt like two weeks, and she was growing into a whole other being.

"Daddy. I'm ready for the park." Kyle's daughter rushed up, bright yellow boonie on her head already, matching sundress, and sandals on her feet. On the wrong feet.

Kyle knelt down. "You look ready." He smiled, "But it looks like you've got your shoes on the wrong feet. How about we try and swap them so they're comfortable?"

So they sat together, swapping her sandals, and after sunscreen, they'd moved for the apartment door.

The neighborhood was still fairly new with newly constructed housing complexes, and flowers that haven't started budding yet, but it was a warm sunny afternoon. The earliest Kyle's ever been outside with his daughter.

"Hands." His daughter called, reaching the end of the crosswalk, extending her small palm towards him so they could cross.

"Thank you." Kyle beamed as they crossed the road and onto the next street towards the park.

Like the neighborhood, it was fairly new. The swings didn't squeak just yet, and the floor mats were still plush. There were plenty of bench seats, tables, and shade given by fruit bearing trees. There was a smaller fenced off section where they'd planned to build a water park, just three colorful spouts and sensors all over to spray water.

"Can you push me?" Kyle's daughter asked, pointing towards the nearly empty swings.

"I'll give you a big push, and you'll push yourself after."

Which was never the case. She loved the swings, and loved when he'd push her super high. Though he was careful, nothing was more precious than the rippling cackle that would leave her when she'd swing up.

So, Kyle pushed. And pushed. And pushed.

His eyes were trained on his surroundings to the parents, the park, the streets. There were a few parents by the pond at the center of the park, ones joining their kids while biking around, and stray parents at the park.

A young boy, around Kyle's daughter's age, ran up to the swing beside them, regardless of the other five swings available, and jumped into the high seat. He peered towards the playground with a squeal.

"Daddy!" He yelled, looking and looking until he'd been spotted.

Kyle and his daughter stared too, with the same curiosity and resemblance, seeing his father approach. And lord - Kyle felt himself blush.

The man approaching was a bit older, or maybe he was the same age as him, a full beard and a tiresome squint under the beaming sun as he neared. He shared a momentary stare with Kyle as he came beside him, nodding with a friendly, and heavy, "Hello."

Kyle smiled. "Hello."

"Daddy, push me real high." Said the young boy, glancing towards the watchful Garrick's.

"I'll try." He quipped, pulling the chains and pushing his son steadily higher.

"Daddy." Kyle's daughter tapped his leg as she swung back. "Higher."

It was a battle to get the highest swing, and before Kyle could help it, his daughter was giggling that rich laugh that had him giddy. His smile was splitting his face as he watched her tip her head back to peer at him.

Her laugh was so infective that he heard the gentle huff of a laugh beside him, the man smiling at her joy. His son watching in amusement.

With no end, the older man's son wanted off the swings and vanished back off into the jungle gym of ropes with his father following. Kyle watched him go, eyeing his wide shoulders and thick legs. He tore his eyes away to keep from looking like a pervy creep.

His daughter, surprisingly, wanted off after a big push, and he obliged. Watching her run for the slide, she was careful up the climbing rocks, and waited behind another kid before sliding down.

"Say excuse me if you want to go by."

Kyle heard the booming voice again, peering across the bridge he stood at, seeing that burly man across from him. His son was a little further up the playground, standing alongside another kid who just so happened to be blocking the path by sitting in the way.

Kyle watched him shake his head, and glance over to his curious gaze. He pressed another soft smile to his lips before feeling a hand tugging his belt loop.

He looked down to his daughter, thankfully. "Do you want to play tea shop?" She asked.

Kyle beamed. "I'd love to have some tea."

She guided him to the playset of stationary tables at kid's height, and sat on the erected stool. She collected a few sticks from the playground boundary, and returned. "We have biscuits for food."

"Do you have the soft ones?" Kyle asked.

"Only cookies." She placed them on the table before him.

"Can I have these warmed up, please?"

"Yes." She snatched them off the table, moving under the unoccupied bridge, and returned. "They're warm now."

"Do you have tea?"

"It's a tea shop. Duh."

Kyle stifled his urge to break a smile. "What kinds?"

"I don't know. What kinds are there?"

"There's black tea, green tea. If you want to sleep, you drink lavender or chamomile. If you're sick, you drink elderberry or ginger tea. There also other different flavors."

"It's too much." She fussed.

"I'll gave green tea then."

"I've got it!" She muttered, running to find something she could prop on the table as a placeholder for tea.

In her absence, Kyle watched the older, handsome man standing by the younger kid's playground. Everything was smaller, easily accessible for shorter kids. He had his hands tucked in his pockets, watching him jump from the second step onto the plush mat below, ducking for the bigger playset.

"I don't have green tea." Kyle's daughter came back with a small rock.

"Then what's this then?"

"Uh-" her eyes searched around. "A muffin."

"A biscuit and a muffin? I'll be so full now." Kyle stated, holding his stomach. "It's a tea shop. You've got no tea?"

"I'll go get some from the shop. That's right over there." She pointed towards the swings.

Kyle shook his head and chuckled as he watched her search, finding a few flowers along the fence border to bring back.

To Kyle's left, a kid came to the table closely to him, looking up at him with curious prying eyes. Too close for the comfort of a stranger. But Kyle was a parent first.

"Hello." He smiled.

It had been the same boy who'd joined their sides on the swing, the same son from that gorgeous gentleman. He was wearing a pair of short dungarees, a few stickers pressed into his pocket buttons. Kyle hadn't noticed the variety of permanent marker smudges into his palms before.

"Are you alright?" Kyle asked.

"Can I sit here?" He asked, pointing to the stool to Kyle's left.

"There's plenty of chairs you can sit in. Pick one." Kyle enthusiastically chimed.

Kyle's daughter returned, flowers bunched in her fist, and a few grass blades. She eyed the quiet boy as she sunk into her dad's side. "Who's that?" She whispered noisily into his neck.

"Why don't you ask? You can also ask if he wants to play Tea Shop with us." Kyle whispered back, a guiding hand on his daughter's back to bring her behind him.

She moved easily, standing between the two. "I'm Harper." She muttered. "Do you want to play Tea Shop with me and my dad?"

The little boy looked to her bunched hands and back to the sticks on the table. "Can I cook the food?"

Kyle's daughter gave an animated nod before holding out her fists, "This is for the tea. There's biscuits and muffins on the table already."

"Do you have sandwiches?"

"It's a Tea Shop." She said, with a straight tone, no funny business about it.

Kyle pressed his fingertips to his lips to hide his smirk.

"They have sandwiches too. My dad gets them." Said the boy. He stood regardless, "I'll make sandwiches." He ducked for the playground side.

"Do the shops sell sandwiches?" She asked Kyle.

"All kinds."

"Can we get one when we leave?"

"Yep. Why don't you play a bit more, then we'll leave in another twenty minutes?" He offered, gently nudging her along.

"Benjamin." Called the burly voice from behind Kyle. "Ben."

When Kyle turned to the knowing look of worry on the boy's father, he almost felt pity for him. He must be a new parent.

"Your boy is the one with the dungarees?" Kyle questioned.

The man looked down at him as if he'd almost missed him sitting at the table, knees bunched up under so he could be eye level with his girl. He looked so small on the little stool. "Yeah." Sighed the man.

"He's playing with my daughter." And pointing brought his attention to the two of them squatting by the swings, picking up pebbles and sticks for their imaginary tea shop.

It seemed to ease him.

He sighed, putting his hands on his hips, and gave a nervous chuckle. "He's faster than I can keep up with."

"They all are." Kyle smile, shielding the sun from his eyes with a hand over his brow to look up at him. "They're supposed to keep us spry."

The man tipped his head, "I don't know about spry." He put a hand on his lower back as if to make a further point.

Kyle smiled as his daughter was barreling back over, the boy in tow, and putting her collective things on the tabletop. "What's this?"

"Don't touch it yet. I've got to put it on to boil." She muttered, collecting a few pebbles together in a small metal lid she'd found in the dirt.

"Daddy," the boy pulled his father's hand, "We're playing shop. Sit."

Kyle shared a look with the nervous man.

"No, I don't think I'll fit in the chair." He insisted as his son was dragging him to the stool across from Kyle.

"We're playing Tea Shop. Do you want a cup of tea?" Kyle's daughter asked, putting sticks in front of him before he can even answer. "These are the biscuits."

"They look lovely." He commented, still being pulled to sit. "Ben, you know I'm too big for this table. My knees are gonna be knocking the whole thing."

He was at a loss against his little boy, and eventually he sat with a heavy grunt. His knees did bump against the table, but folding his legs at his ankles meant spreading into Kyle's space underneath.

"Do you want some sugar in your tea?" Kyle's daughter asked the man.

"I'll have just milk."

"We're all out." She blurted.

"Oh." He sighed in distraught.

Kyle covered his mouth with his hand.

He looked over Kyle's amused gaze and smiled himself.

"Do you want a sandwich, daddy?" Asked his boy.

"A sandwich?" The poor man had two children running circles around him, and Kyle found amusement in his confusion.

"The shop's have sandwiches." Kyle's daughter said.

"They do." Kyle chimed in.

"What do you have?" The man asked.

"Stick sandwich." His son said.

"Doesn't sound appetizing."

"How about rocks?"

"Do I get to keep my teeth?" He puckered his lips.

"No." His son giggled.

"Then, I'll stick to the tea just fine, thank you."

"It's coming up." Kyle's daughter said, propping the metal cup on the table after having dropped a few pebbles on the floor.

Kyle shared a poorly withheld smirk at the hopeless father as they were both served their "tea" and "biscuits".

"Move you eat it." Said Kyle's daughter, holding up a stick.

"Oh. I couldn't possibly. It looks too good to eat." Kyle said. "What tea did you bring me?"

"Flower tea." She said, peering into the cup.

"My favorite." Kyle held up the little tin, under his daughter's close inspection and took a sip of air. "Mmm."

His daughter laughed, clinging onto his arm. "You're not supposed to drink it, it's flowers."

"But it tastes so good." The more he sipped, the louder her cackle was. He wrapped an arm around her back to keep her from tipping back too far, and kissed her forehead softly. "Thank you."

"Can I go play up there?" She pointed to the bridge and playset for older kids.

"Yes, be careful."

"I will." She said, turning to the boy. "Do you want to race down the slide?"

With enthusiasm, the both of them rushed for various ways to get up to the slide the fastest, leaving their fathers to sit at the comically small table alone.

Kyle sighed, looking to the mess of a table. "I'll be mother and clean up." He joked, bunching the sticks in his fists and swiping off the pebbles and dirt.

"Allow me." Said the other, picking up the metal cup and rocks. "You've got a beautiful daughter, if you don't mind me saying." He glanced to his face and down, assuring no harm out of his words.

"Thank you." Kyle smiled. "Your son is very outgoing, and polite."

"He's working on it. He hasn't gotten the hang of being social." He huffed. "I'm trying to get him to make friends."

"It's not easy sometimes. But a little push gets them to move a long way."

He nodded before putting his hand up towards Kyle. "I'm John."

"Kyle." He shook his hand.

"My boy's Benjamin."

"How old?"

"Turning five soon. You?"

"Five."

John nodded. "Is she your first?"

"She is."

"Was it scary for you?"

"You don't have a clue." Kyle scoffed.

They stood by the bin, watching their kids race from a distance to the top of the playground to the bottom and back up again.

"Benjamin's my first, and it doesn't matter how much time has past, it still feels like I'm re-learning everything from scratch again every year he grows."

"It doesn't matter how many parent books you've read; you'll never be ready for the real thing." Kyle offered.

"You think so?"

Kyle nodded.

"Do you have any others?" John asked.

"She's my only."

"Really?"

Kyle nodded.

"Wow."

"Why?"

"I thought," he shrugged, "The way you approach things, you seem experienced. I'm sorry if that seems rude of me to assume-"

"No, no, it's an honor. Thank you." Kyle smiled. "I've read every book there was on parenting. And nothing compares to having her." He gestured to his girl zipping down the slide, waiting for Benjamin to get down before running up.

"Have you?" John gave an amused smirk. "Better prepared than I could have been. I feel like I'm always stepping on toys, and swearing, doing everything wrong. I don't want to stand over him, but I don't want to let him hurt himself to learn."

"I feel like I'm constantly trying to not hover over her, but she's doing just fine all on her own."

John nodded, watching her slow down to let his son catch up to her before running down the playground. "She's lovely."

"Thank you." Kyle beamed. "I don't mean to brag, but people say she's got the likes of me. I would hope so."

"I don't wish Benjamin to have anything about me." John joked. "He doesn't need this mean mug scaring people off."

"Didn't scare me off." Kyle words rendered the older man speechless.

John was used to people who'd laugh, agree with him calling himself ugly. He knew he wasn't an ugly guy, he just liked to bring people humor and joy. He averted Kyle's pointed and flirty eyes towards the playground.

Kyle looked back as well. He couldn't help the smile on his face, seeing the man before him blush. He was handsome, and it was delightful to be able to tell him and get such a positive reaction.

John cleared his throat. "Ben's got his mum's temperament and nose."

"Does he?" Kyle hummed. "Lucky kid."

John scoffed. "Yeah."

"I tried co-parenting." Kyle offered, unknowing of his situation, and why he was the only one at the park with his son. "It's just me and her now. It's an easier route."

"Falling out with the wife?" John joked.

"No. Anonymous donor." Kyle said, point blank.

The words slowly turned in John's head, Kyle could see it, and he waited for the moment of impact.

John furrowed his brow. "Oh." He said plainly, before it hit. "Oh." He pointed at Kyle, more towards his lower abdomen, tilted his head like a lost pup. "You."

Kyle pressed his lips together, smile crushed in between.

"That's lovely." John nodded. "I see. Well. She does have the likes of you."

"Thank you." Kyle beamed.

And John gave a nervous, inviting chuckle.

Kyle's daughter came down the slide with John's son following, both rushing up. Kyle clasped her back as she wrapped her arms around his waist. "Can we go to the shop now?" She asked, peering up at him.

"Yes. We can." Kyle cupped her back.

"Can my new friend go?" She asked, looking to John's son.

Kyle looked to John with a look that was unsure and he shook his head. "I'm sure that they've got things they need to do."

"Not at all." John blurted.

Kyle looked back at him.

"We'd love to join you. If you'd let us." John stared at Kyle with a polite smile. "I'd like to talk some more over tea."

"Can we go? Please. Please." Kyle's daughter gripped his shirt, tugging down.

At a loss for words this time, Kyle was speechless. All he could utter was a soft and airy, "Sure."

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adarkandmagicalforest · 10 months

Text

Good Mouse

she was new to the red keep

and the white worm had advised that she keep her head down and just listen

however, the queen's master of whisperers had other plans for her

Larys Strong/Reader

Keep your head down, the White Worm had told her.

Keep your head down and listen, keep your head down and wait, keep your head down and learn.

So she did. She did all the Lady Mysaria asked of her. She tidied rooms, she cleaned floors, she brought meals up from the kitchens and the dishes back down to be washed. The other serving girls told her the best ladies to serve, the old men to avoid and where the most handsome knights liked to do their practice. Talia was the most severe of the older ladies-in-waiting, who gave the rest of them quick orders and expected them done before any other, as hers were usually directly for the Queen. Dyana was quite soft and kind, and occasionally needed a reminder of what she was doing, but her lady was the Princess Helaena, so her needs were always taken care of next now that the Princess Rhaenyra was away from the Red Keep.

And after the royal family, it was the members of the council whose needs were tended to after that.

The King's Hand and Lord of Harrenhal, Lyonel Strong, was an gruff but polite man who accepted the meals she chose for him with good-natured complaints at the plain porridge or herbed fish she brought for him, citing the orders from the Grand Maester that he should avoid pink and red meats during this stage in his life.

But the Hand's son, Lord Larys Strong, was a very different man than his Father entirely.

The first time the new serving girl attended to the Master of Whisperers was when she brought him his supper one autumn evening. His rooms were in a far off part of the Red Keep, one that she had to walk for a full ten minutes to get to after retrieving his supper of pigeon pie and vegetable stew.

The only lights that had been on in his rooms were on the walls, which she had taken as a sign that the Lord in question was not present.

And so, she had taken a moment to relax within the unfamiliar chambers which were so different than her own, where she had to share with nine other girls. These rooms were nothing like those cramped quarters. These were larger, with big windows by the wall which were covered with thick velvet curtains to shelter out the glow of the moon outside. The rest of the room was well spaced, with well-made wooden furniture nothing like the rickety end table and squeaky collection of cupboards where all of her little possessions existed inside one of the small spaces.

Lord Larys' meal was placed neatly onto the dining table. His plate of pie was set down on a woven mat, his container of stew set onto the metal cage that hovered above the trio of fat candles that would keep it well heated.

His wine, a Dornish blend, had only just finished being decanted before the Lord in question nearly scared her out of her wits with the sound of his cane.

"Oh!" she'd gasped, hurrying to pick up her tray and make herself scarce. "My lord, I'm sorry, I was just on my way - "

Lord Larys Strong's nickname was Larys Clubfoot. An unkind if true one, the man was born with a foot that was formed wrong in the womb. As a side effect of such a deformity, the man was forced to use a heavy walnut cane and wear a thick leather boot on his foot. Which typically was not what made a particularly sneaky man, and yet somehow it wasn't until the nobleman's cane clacked down against the stone rather than the carpet did she become alerted to his presence.

"No no, please." Lord Larys immediately said, holding out his hand to stop her escape. She could have still left of course. Even with a hand on his cane, he looked unsteady standing upright. But he was also a lord. Her superior. And Lady Mysaria told her to listen, wait, learn.

"My apologies, my lord, I've brought your supper for you and I was just on my way." She explained, staying put as his square-shaped hand was still held out to her. Even when it lowered to rest on top of his cane, relieving the weight off his leg and giving the man a slightly taller stature.

"Why, thank you." Larys said, approaching the dinner she had just set out for him. Then, he reached out and lightly touched the lid of the small stewpot, where it sat still hot thanks to the candles that burned beneath it. "How thoughtful," He then mused, lifting up that lid and observing the flow of steam that floated out of the little pot. "And clever of you."

The serving girl looked to the little iron cage he gestured to. It seemed rather unremarkable to her, just something that her Mother had always used to keep dinner hot on the table. The one on Lord Larys' table was actually crafted from a scrap piece of iron that she'd found in the kitchens that was just large enough to set the pot on top of.

"I thank you, my Lord." She said, looking up at him, resisting the urge to flinch when she saw that he was now within mere feet of her, all without her noticing.

Perhaps without his deformity, he might have grown into his height or bone structure - but as he was, he looked thin and strange, with dark brown hair and rather beady eyes that seemed to peer into her with a disturbing lack of shame. But then, he was a Lord. If he wished to stare at her like that, he had every right to.

listen, wait, learn sweet girl

"Hmm. Not enough for two, however." Lord Larys noted then, his eyes finally separating from hers to look upon his supper again with a disappointed shake of his head.

"Oh - I did not know you would be having company, my Lord. I could leave for the kitchens now and come back - ?" She attempted.

"No no, this is fine." The noblemen dismissed easily, resting his cane against the back of the chair as he lowered himself into it. "Tomorrow evening, you will bring enough for two."

"As you wish it, my Lord."

"And you will be dining with me." He said, just as at ease, as if this was a perfectly normal command to his ears, even as he pulled his perfectly heated stew forward and dipped his spoon inside it. Larys was a very delicate eater, careful with his utensils and making sure that no drop of broth nor any food dripped onto his lap nor dribbled down his chin. Where his foot was rotten, his hands were extremely steady. Seated, he was as confident as any other lord.

So she repeated herself. "As you wish it, my Lord." She said.

But this was all the man seemed to want from her for now, as he smiled at her in a way that did not reach his eyes and dismissed her with a playful wave of his spoon.

She told the White Worm of this development as quickly and covertly as she could.

Attend the dinner, my girl, the Valyrian woman had written back. Do as the rat commands, whatever he commands. Learn.

So she had obeyed.

Supper on that second night was glazed duck, roasted onion rice porridge and plenty of cooked breads and cheese. The wine that night was a rosy one from Highgarden and even smelt a bit like rosewater as she was decanting it. She had never smelled anything like it and the pitcher was radiating the fragrance even after she put the wineskin away. Soon, it was even smelling like peaches and apples, and as she set out the dishes of duck, she found herself wishing she could try it even before Lord Larys arrived.

Thankfully, there was too much to be done to become too distracted by the temptation of wine, including the lighting of the many candles in the room and setting out the two place settings at the table - of which, she'd already changed twice, as she hadn't known where the Master of Whisperers wanted her to sit. She'd settled for on his left.

"Ah, how dutiful of you." Larys commented when he'd arrived, immediately coming forward, leaning on his cane as he limped to his seat. His hardened boot bumped slightly against his chair, the odd turn of it making it a nuisance. She didn't comment on it nor offer to assist him. Lords did not like to be helped without prompting. "Sit, won't you?" He then added once he was settled, now in his element, his slightly greasy hair pulled back out of his face and his posture slightly less hunched as he reached for the wine that had been so tempting her.

She obeyed his request, sitting down comfortably on his left as she watched with anticipation as Larys filled his wine goblet and then hers.

"Drink." He commanded gently, the sound accompanying a slight smile. He was freshly shaved that day.

He needn't have to tell her twice. She reached for the goblet eagerly while Larys watched. The smell was even more lovely up close, and she took the moment to take it in before she sipped it.

"A connoisseur?" The lord inquired with amusement as he started to serve her from the dishes.

"No, my Lord." She said with some embarrassment, putting the goblet down.

"Now now, lying is a sin, my Lady. You can tell me." Larys scolded her good-heartedly, but she heard the warning within it regardless and it made the wine taste suddenly not as sweet on her tongue. Sin indeed.

"I enjoy categorizing them, my Lord. Just from the scent mostly... I think this one is one of my favorites." She explained, feeling unnerved yet again by how directly he looked at her. It made her feel like she was naked rather than dressed in plain cotton.

"Is it?" He leaned forward, interested. He did not reach for his own goblet yet. "Tell me what you smell."

The girl swallowed lightly and smiled nervously before reaching for her goblet again. She shut her eyes and tried to obey. "Well - this is a blush wine. It's pink, sweet. But it also smells of roses, fruit... I can even smell the wood of the barrel they aged it in - apple."

"My, all of that you can catch from a mere smell. What a clever nose you have there, little mouse." Larys said bemusedly, like she was exactly that, an entertaining little mouse in a maze of his own design. It made her wonder exactly why he had commanded she dine with him that evening. The other girls had never reported that he was that sort of man, and they were never shy about that sort of thing, not with Prince Aegon and his proclivities being an open secret. If the Master of Whisperers preferred to have servants in his bed, she would have been told. But her Mistress had told her to obey, whatever he wished.

He was not too repulsive looking. He looked rather like his Father, but far thinner, and had only shared the coloring and a few cursory features of his more handsome brother Ser Harwin Breakbones, like the shape of their noses and the ridge of their brows. She would not need to pretend too badly, it was not as if he were the ancient Maester with his hound dog face or Lord Beesbury who preferred young girls with yellow hair to strike at him when he least expected them.

"Thank you, my Lord." She said, picking up her utensils at his silent gesture. "It is from years of practice is all. You learn to recognize the best wines from what you can, especially when serving those who drink so much of it."

This made Lord Larys chuckle and finally pick up his own goblet, waving it under his nose in a bit of a show before sipping it himself. "Hmm... I'm catching - grapes?"

The serving girl giggled. "That is the jist of it, Lord Larys."

The nobleman speared a piece of duck on his plate. "Mm. I rather enjoy the sound of that from you, little mouse. Though 'rat' was unkind I found it very inspirational. Rats are everywhere, as I am." The enjoyment she had dried like ashes in her mouth, even while Larys hummed with pleasure at the taste of the meat in his mouth, cutting the flesh neatly with his knife, the threat almost too much for her to bear, even with how calm a disposition he held.

"Ser - "

"I'm not a ser." Larys corrected immediately, lifting a piece of meat up and inspecting it. "And you're not eating. Are you frightened of me now?"

She wasn't sure how to answer that. She wasn't even sure what she should do. She could have run, but his implication of 'rats' had left her unable to move. Her supper was getting cold there without any candles for her plate to rest above.

The lord sighed gently then, putting his own utensils down. "There's no need to be frightened. I could not possibly harm you, could I? You could stand up and leave, right now, and I could do nothing to stop you."

Oh certainly she could leave that room without being stopped, that much she did not doubt. It was a matter of what happened afterwards that she feared. No matter how she exited that room, death would be waiting for her. Now the only question was by whose will her life would end. By the rat or by the worm. And so her pale hand reached out and picked up her wine again. She drank from it deeply, and the sweet nectar of roses, peaches and apple swirled within her mouth. If she was to die, she would at least enjoy her last cup of wine. Neither Master nor Mistress could take that away.

"Oh now... That is a decision I respect." Larys commented, his dark, imploring eyes lit with approval as he watched her savor her wine.

"If this is to be my final action, I would like to enjoy it fully, Lord Larys." She explained shortly, pleased that her voice did not shake.

"'Final action?'" The Lord echoed. He picked up the pitcher and refilled her cup. "Oh no, little mouse, this won't be your final action at all. Far from it."

Startled, she put her goblet back down. But he did not wait for her to question him before continuing with his line of thought. "Tomorrow evening, bring another wine you enjoy. Something complicated, from the Arbor perhaps. And dessert as well. Whatever your favorite it, I imagine with your taste in wine, you'll have fine taste in sweets as well." The rat said with a wry grin, the compliment nearly lush even while she looked at him bewildered.

"I don't understand, my Lord."

"Larys." He corrected her.

"Larys." She repeated agreeably, seeing this perhaps as a way out, a way forward, a way that she could still use to listen, wait, learn.

"I think you do understand me, mouse." Larys then said. It was then that the lord revealed his true wants to her, something that honestly relieved her more than she thought. Because this - this drifting of his dark loom-y eyes over her body, from down her pale neck and over the curve of her breast within her dark cotton dress. This made sense, this was something she could do. "But I understand that you need more from me than just a mere insinuation, little mouse. I'd like you to continue to keep faith with your... confidant. I'll allow you do to as you will, continue working as you wish for whomever aging lords and rude ladies wish it from you... Or, you can join my own service, permanently - and be allowed a few more liberties."

He wanted her to serve both of them. Serve both and live. Serve both and survive.

She would not assume that his second suggestion was a mere suggestion at all. Her only choice was to join his own service - and from his look, she knew what such a thing would entail. But this did not worry her, not when she could imagine far worse under more violent hands. Though the darkness she saw in Larys Strong's face was one that she could not take lightly. But what could he possibly desire from her other than a warm cunt and a pretty face?

"What would your service entail, Larys?" The mouse inquired nervously, looking at him as if she could discover his proclivities through his face. Anticipation was written there, but satisfaction too. He knew she had nowhere else to go.

"Undress, if you please." He said softly, his eyes moving over her body.

Despite expecting something along these lines, she could not help the way her heart jumped with horror at the order. But she would not disobey - she stood, lifted up her skirts and pulled them over her head. Her shift, plain stays and her small clothes followed, surprisingly the easiest thing to remove - as once her clothing and her shoes were kicked away, the noblemen seemed to become shy himself, as he was now staring down at her feet.

Then, he was staring to such a degree that she had to follow. She still wore her stockings, plain ivory ones. They were tight and slightly sweaty from where they clung to her feet from the long day's work.

She reached down to them.

"No." He commanded, finally looking upon the rest of her, his gaze roaming her small, pale breasts, down her soft stomach and down her thighs where the cinched ribbon kept her stockings in place. "You've been working since dawn, haven't you? Your legs must be sore."

"I - yes, they are." The mouse eventually said, when she realized that his question was one he expected to be answered.

And once she had, he seemed quite pleased with her. As then, he was pushing his supper out of the way, making a space there. This was quite a strange action to her, especially as she was standing there quite naked, a little cold, frightened and very confused.

His wide, square hand then laid itself onto the fresh space he made. "Come, sit here... I'll rub them for you."

This was not an offer. It too, was another command masked in a polite tone.

"Don't be afraid. Come now, let me help you." Larys the Clubfoot urged warmly, lightly patting the wooden table.

So the naked girl drifted in and obeyed, lifting herself up onto the table so she was seated in front of him. Even with the slight height she now had over him though, she did not feel secure, even as she silently waited for him to spread her legs and do as he would to her.

Except he didn't. Instead, he reached for her left ankle, wrapping his warm hands around the delicate bones there. His fingers smoothed slowly over the cotton, slipping up and down while his eyes devoured the sight with a hunger that was bewildering.

The rat tutted then once his hands reached her foot, the imprint of his thumb against the soreness there willing some of the ache awake. "Poor thing. These are worn so thin... Look at how dirty they are here - and here." He said, pressing his fingers in and rubbing where the most throbbing existed. The bottom of her stocking was a bit dirty thanks to her shoes, which she would need to replace and soon.

The lord rubbed his thumb in a circle into the arch of her foot then, making her sigh lightly at the relief it gave.

Which ultimately seemed to be what Larys Clubfoot desired from her.

"Now let's remove these, hm? You'll feel much better once they're off." He said easily, eagerly. Larys' hands reached up to her thighs, pulling the ties before pealing the cotton away from her. It relieved the pressure on her legs for a moment before the lords burning hands clasped at her again.

That was when she noticed the tent in his trousers.

She'd guessed as much. And yet, she was stiffening up, all too aware of herself now.

"Now now, none of that." He whispered, his voice hoarse and heady. "No fear here, little mouse. Come now, I can show you." He moved himself closer within his chair, bending her knees up and placing them on the arms of the chair. This new position left her cunt quite open and spread to the cool air and it took a reminder to herself to not flinch nor squirm to cover herself shyly.

"What a pretty pussy for a mouse to have." The lord said playfully. "Now let's see here." He mused, taking her leg and folding it, trapped, between her thigh and his chest as he leaned in to inspect her. "Shy pink petals, just like a little rosebud, if you pardon the analogy." He said with an amused smile before turning his head to kiss briefly at her ankle. His lips were warm and dry. Then, his wide hand went between her open thighs and laid itself upon her cunt, encompassing it completely with a comforting wave of heat that made her gasp lightly.

Larys rubbed his hand over her at the sound, the friction moving over her sensitive center until pleasure started to build within her, that familiar bud above her core giving her the urge to roll her hips boldly against his hand for more of that delicious friction.

"That feels good hmm?" He said, slowing his movements. Then, he ran his thumb between her petals, swiping down and briefly slipping it inside her, swirling it around and thrusting inside until he had gathered some of the slick moisture there, spreading it. "That's good. I want you to feel good. Come here, now. That's right, on my lap."

She hadn't needed to move very far. Just to move a few inches down to sit on top of his knees, but she kept her elbows on the table behind her for balance something that Larys appreciated as it gave him the ability to bend her legs back, as if she was an open dinner plate for his eyes to devour.

Already, his kisses had returned to her legs, always kissing from her calves down to her ankles and then finally to the bottom of her feet, which was when his cock became most noticeable beneath her and when his hand started to rub insistently at her cunt again, making her moan and tremble at the sudden rush of pleasure.

Soon, the lord did as all lords did eventually, and took out his cock.

It seemed a fairly regular cock, though it was particularly veiny from where she saw it before Larys sank her on top of it, his left hand digging into her hip while the right continued to swipe over her, his rapid fingers making her voice grow breathier and breathier while her peak built up within her until she was close, so so so close.

"Oh my little mouse, look at you. Look at you, look at you, oh how could I not keep you?" He murmured ecstatically, his hand never stopping, even as she began to grind herself back, back against his cock which was now well inside her. "And people always said I was too difficult to buy for... Oh my mouse, yes, you can cum for me, that's right, just like that. Such a good little mouse." His praise made her cunt clench desperately around the cock inside of her, her mind dizzy from confusion and arousal and then the peak that overcame her, making her shake and moan quite loudly while her arms and legs shook and her head fell back against the wood.

It was then that he began pulling on her hips in earnest, fucking her with what strength he had in his arms, but he didn't appear to require more than a few thrusts before she felt his release shoot inside her, joining her own dripping arousal slipping out onto the lord's clubfoot and the stone floor when his cock softened and slickly slipped out of her wet cunt.

"Very good." Larys praised again, looking delighted as he took her by both ankles, kissing the tops of her feet, before spreading them wide again and kissing her directly on her cunt, making her breath hitch unexpectedly. "Yes, very good... Run along now, mouse. Get dressed and inform your Mistress that you've made the lord rat fall hopelessly in love with you. If she asks for details, I'll hope you be discreet." He punctuated this ominous order with another kiss to her cunt, a lingering one that she rather liked, which made her sigh and want to squirm against his mouth.

But he parted from her regardless, wiping their mixed spend from his mouth, it not appearing to bother him at all as he smiled.

"I will see you tomorrow evening." He promised as she left. The door shut behind her heavily, and when she looked down to check if she was presentable enough to sneak back to her crowded chambers, she realized too late that she had forgotten her stockings.

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