#but the comforting hand on your shoulder is gone

[catchastarorten]

hey lovely, i don’t know if you take requests but i absolutely love your works!! i wanted to see if you can do a jun ho fic x fem!reader where jun is in a coma after in ho shoot him on that island and reader has been visiting him every day since at the hospital. and one day he finally wakes ip and reader just takes care of him? just like a baby, food, kisses, cuddles. i feel like our man needs that :(

tyy if you would do this, have a great day or night 🩷🩷

Hello, anon! Here's your request :), I hope I did Jun-ho justice because you're absolutely right, the man needs some love and care, and he's gonna get it here. Hope you enjoy this — lots of love! <3

—Feels better with you.

Pairing: Hwang Jun-ho x lover!fem!reader

Summary: after everything Jun-ho went through, he was in a coma, you were there with him when he finally woke up. He needed you. And you took care of him while he was recovering.

Content: fluff, comfort, kisses, yearning, a little bit of angst, Jun-ho in a coma then waking up, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not proofread, sorry!

Word count: ~ 1.0k

Seeing him lying there, hooked up to machines, pale and fragile in a way you’d never seen before, broke something in you. This was the man who had once held you so tightly, who had whispered promises into your skin, who had loved you with a quiet intensity that made you feel untouchable. Now he looked so far away.

You visited him every day after hearing about how he'd been pulled from the ocean. He was in a coma.

You talked to him, your voice soft but steady, telling him about everything and nothing. You read to him, held his hand, brushed the hair from his forehead like you used to on those lazy mornings. And every day, you hoped he’d come back to you.

The day he woke up, it was like the world stopped. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused and heavy with exhaustion. Your heart leapt into your throat as you leaned closer, your hands trembling.

Waking up felt like surfacing from a dream that had gone on too long—foggy and disorienting, the kind of dream where Jun-ho wasn't sure if he was still alive or dead. His body was heavy, every muscle aching, but especially from the shot on his shoulder, the weight that it carried.

For a moment, Jun-ho couldn’t remember where he was or why his chest felt so tight, why his head throbbed with such a sharp ache.

But then he saw you.

You were leaning over him, your eyes wide, tears brimming as if you held them back for too long. And when you whispered his name, the sound cracked something deep inside him.

“Jun-ho?” your voice echoed.

He tried to speak, but his throat felt raw, his voice coming out like sandpaper as he rasped your name back. Just your name, like it was the only word he'd held onto all this time. “Y/n…”

And just like that, the weight of the world fell away. You were there, holding his face, your touch soft and grounding, your presence the only thing grounding him to reality. “I’m here,” you told him, your voice thick with relief. “I’m right here.”

The look in your eyes nearly undid him. He wanted to say so much, to explain why he left, to apologize for everything—for leaving without a word, for the pain he knew he’d caused you—but his body betrayed him, too weak to form the sentences in his head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered instead, the words barely audible.

“Stop,” you shook your head, tears falling from your eyes. “You don’t have to explain anything right now,” you said gently, your voice a balm to his soul. “Just rest, okay? Please.”

He didn’t argue. He never could with you.

In the days that followed, Jun-ho spent more time watching you than anything else. He was too weak to do much else, and honestly, he didn’t mind. Every time he opened his eyes, you were there—staying with him, and he held your hand as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

You’d talk to him in that soft, steady voice of yours, telling him about the most ordinary things. It didn’t matter what you said. All he cared about was the sound of your voice, the way it wrapped around him like a blanket, comforting and warm. Like he was home again.

There were times, late at night, when you thought he was asleep, and he’d feel your fingers brushing against his, hear the quiet, shaky breaths you took as if trying to hold yourself together. Those moments broke him more than anything else.

He hated himself for leaving you. For disappearing the way he had, knowing how much it would hurt you. But the guilt wasn’t as strong as the relief he felt now, knowing that despite everything, you were still here. You hadn’t given up on him, and he loves you for it.

When he was finally strong enough to sit up on his own, you started bringing him food—simple things like soup or porridge. He’d watch you blow on each spoonful, your lips pursed slightly as you cooled the soup before holding it to his mouth.

He ate obediently, his eyes never leaving you, his gaze flickering to your lips like he was counting the moments until the bowl was empty and he could kiss you again. 

He wanted to kiss you so badly it hurt.

The first time he finally did, you were brushing your fingers through his hair. Without thinking, Jun-ho reached up and caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm, then your wrist, his eyes fluttering shut as if the touch alone was enough to heal him.

Your heart clenched as you leaned down to kiss him properly, your lips soft against his. It was slow, tentative. Your lips were warm, familiar, and he felt a shiver run through him as he let himself sink into it.

“I missed you,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and raw with emotion.

“I missed you too,” you whispered back.

Jun-ho wanted to hold you properly, more than anything. To pull you into his arms and never let go. But the hospital bed wasn’t big enough for that, much to his silent frustration.

You let out a quiet laugh when he gave you a soft frown, but you gave him your arm instead, letting him curl up against you. He rested his head on your hand, his eyes focused on you as you gently ran your fingers through his hair.

The frown dissolved from his face, his eyes traced your features as if he was memorizing every little thing about you. His breathing slowed, and you knew he was at peace.

He needed this. All of it. And he needed you.

[gaypirate420]

Crawling back to you// Jayce Talis

S2!Jayce Talis x AFAB!reader.

Summary: He's been away from you far too long.

Do I wanna know?- Hozier cover.

Smut/Angst/Fluff.

Everything is loud. Chaos surrounded him as he found his way away from the commune, images still flashing through his mind like a painful, torturous reminder of what he saw, of the hell he lived in for gods-knows how long.

His hammer suddenly felt heavy, he made a promise but now it weighted on his shoulders. He whimpers under his breath as his feet dragged him out of the war zone that suddenly arrived at the commune.

Jayce didn't have a destination in mind, well, maybe deep in his subconscious he did, but it was so hard to think, he can barely find his way out of the undercity. He stumbles and has to stop every couple of minutes to catch his breath, the Man of Progress reduced to a panting and stumbling mess, a man beat out of every last drop of sanity, a shell of himself.

He walks and walks, every step more erratic and desperate than the other, he wants to go home, to sleep, to wake up tomorrow and make sure all of this was a nightmare, Jayce comes to a stop, he's arrived wherever his body has taken him, leaning against a wall with shaky pants for breath and a small electric bolt of pain coming from his leg. His tired eyes look up, his mind and body in it's haze has found its way to your cottage.

He freezes, taking deep shaky breaths like he's about to have a panic attack but then he sees your shadow on the second floor, your back as you dusted off something near your window, unaware of the poor inventor that can barely stand on his feet.

But he stares, dazed hazel eyes drowning in the domestic scene, like he hasn't come from an alternate reality where you, everyone, everything was gone. Like he didn't just come from blowing a hole in the chest of his best friend. He feels like he's coming home, like those days he'll check out earlier from the workshop and come visit you and have a nice home made dinner and a well earned cuddly nap.

Jayce stumbles forward, his calloused hand pushes the little door of your fence, his hammer dragging next to the flowers of your garden. The sound of your gate opening made you jump, you turned around and gasped loudly at the sight of your missing lover. You ran, flew, probably, down the stairs frantically searching for your keys as you unlocked the door, you swan it opened and there he was.

"My love..." You whispered, your throat feeling tight. He drops his hammer and stares at you for a couple of seconds, his eyes wide and pupils blowing, you're the first one to move, bare feet stepping out of the door frame and cup his face. He froze, he hasn't been touched for so long.

Jayce broke down in an instant, his broad frame trembled as tears quickly pooled and fell from his eyes, leaving a clear trail in his dirty and scarred face. He wraps his arms around your waist and buries his face on your neck, a loud ugly sob breaks from his throat.

Your own tears threaten to fall down, one of your hands runs down his back, trying to comfort him. His legs finally give out, making you and him fall to the wooden floor of your porch. Jayce keeps sobbing, repeating your name over and over like a prayer.

"I'm right here, puppy." You whispered softly, your fingers running down his hair, his face was deep in your neck, your skin muffling the cries and whines that come out of him.

You just whisper that same phrase every time he calls your name, you answer that you're right here with him, reassuring him that he hasn't gone mad, he's not a hallucination and you're real. It helps both ways, he feels real, he's here too, back in your arms after so long. His sobs die down after a couple of minutes, small hiccups left as a reminder of how hard he cried. Jayce slowly lifted his head from your neck.

"Hm..ngh-.."He tries to talk, to say something more than your name, but he can't not yet at least, his eyes are hazy and dull, he's back home physically but not mentally.

"Shhh, it's alright, my darling. Let's get inside." You whispered softly, he nodded slowly, you helped him stand up, letting him let some of his weight on you instead of his injured leg.

You don't want to hear about what happened, not yet at least, not after he just cried unconsolably for almost ten minutes. Jayce made it to the couch, you laid down with him, he returned to his previous position, curled against you with his face on your neck.

Jayce could feel your pulse, it was a little faster, he could feel your skin, your soft skin he loved to touch, how his fingers used to brush mindless patterns against it while you slept. Your hair, your beautiful hair he loved to bury his nose in. He takes a deep breath, the familiar smell of your perfume and shampoo hitting him, the inventor whimpers and holds you tighter, almost like a child clinging to a toy.

"ngh- mised ya- so much." The inventor whispered against your skin, his chapped lips trembling slightly, your fingers brushed the back of his neck, he shivered and buried his face further, the feeling of your skin against his feels so grounding.

"I missed you too, I thought I wouldn't see you again." You whisper back into his hair, feeling a small knot forming on your throat from all the bottled emotions, you gasped softly as he placed a soft kiss on your neck. Your lover sighed, his breath hot and ragged against your skin, you were clean and soft a sharp contrast with his muddy and scarred skin.

His shaky hands have a death grip on your waist, but they relax after a couple of minutes, his breathing slows down and his fingers start roaming around the sides of your waist, feeling you. His lips continue the small and featherlight kisses on your neck, you tilted your head out of instinct.

"...miss...so much..." Jayce whispered against you again, for him it feels like he can't get enough of these words, he needs to tell you how much he missed you and he needs for you to reassuring him over and over again. Your fingers run down the back of his neck making him gasp and shudder against you.

"Shhhh, you're back home, beloved." You whisper back, his body curls closer, a soft moan leaves his lips and a small gasp leaves yours when you feel something bumping your thigh.

"m'sorry, doll...m'so sorry..." He whined against you, you can feel how he's stopping himself from grinding against you, that second, that small movement sends an electric shot right through his spine and into his brain.

"That's quite alright, handsome." You spoke softly, he nodded but a small needy whine left his trembling lips.

"ngh- m'sorry...been so long, sweetheart, your fingers, you feel- ngh-" He couldn't finish his sentence because his hips betrayed him and moved on their own, a small roll against your thigh, he shivered and moaned, for such a small action, the sound that escaped him was uncharacteristically lewd.

Your hand cups his face, he leans in like a stray cat getting a pet for the first time ever. It makes your heart ache, how broken he returned, but it's also quite pleasant to hear his little breaths and whine.

"Want a hand, puppy?" You ask softly, he closes his eyes taking deep breaths as your words sink, he nods frantically.

"...please..." Jayce whines again, he tries to nuzzle closer but a shot of pain curses through his leg, making him teary eyed and bury his face back on your neck with a pathetic whimper.

"Oh, my beautiful love....shhh..." You whispered, stroking his hair to try and calm him down again, still, his need is growing impatient, he rolls his hips again, slower this time.

"I think our attention should be focused on something else, stud." You whispered pressing a soft kiss on his hair, he whined and shook his head, his big hands gripping against your sides.

"pl- nghh- please, dot, don't leave me like this..." Jayce whines against your skin, there's a sense of guilt behind the shiver that ran through your body, but it's starting to be watered down by his hands starting to wander around your waist.

"Only because you're begging so nicely." You whispered against his ear, the tall man moaned deliciously against you and nodded, he likes to beg, to cry until you give in and reward him.

Your hands went to his shoulders, pulling him away, he gasped and latched onto your waist.

"Shhh, don't worry, my love...let's just get you more comfortable." You said gently, trying to hold a chuckle as the sight of such a tall man holding onto you like a cat would be its favorite toy was quite funny. He nodded slowly, you lay him down on the couch, prepping a cushion on his head and making sure his injured leg was spread and comfortable. He didn't resist, didn't even whine in discomfort.

"Good boy, off to a great start." You whispered with a soft smirk, Jayce felt his member throbbing just from your words, he swallowed and looked up at you with glassy eyes. You leaned down, your lips meeting his forehead, then his brow.

"How I missed you- missed kissing your pretty face." You spoke against his skin, he gasped softly with each kiss, like he forgot how your lips felt and was experiencing them for the first time.

"...missed kisses too..." He whispered softly, you smiled softly, cupping his jaw, your fingers running through his beard, he sighs softly, tiling his head to give you more access to his neck.

"I like this." You whisper with a smirk, Jayce, like a puppy, tilt his head and stare at you.

"you d-do, doll?" He whispered, a little wide eyed, you nodded.

"I like it a lot." You whispered biting your lip as your smirk transformed into a mischievous grin. Jayce felt his cheeks heating up, he nodded at your words.

"I'll ke-keep it then, ngh-." Your lover mumbled, you chuckled softly, the sound of your laughter was so foreign to him but so familiar, he's been hearing it in his dreams for so long, in his delusions and hallucinations it lingered along with blurry memories of your face. His scarred lips turned into the smallest of smiles. With a slow and gentle movement, you got on his lap, your knee just below his aching member, you didn't dare to sit completely, not wanting to lean your weight on his bad leg by accident. Your face leaned closer and locked your lips with his.

It was like being lost in the sea and finally being found. Like the first rain after a hot summer.

Jayce moans against your lips, his hands holding onto you like a life line. He's hungry, starved for so long and finally is allowed to have you. His lips are rough, chapped and his beard makes the intense kiss a brand new experience. You've kissed him with some stubble before but this is a whole different level. And you're loving it.

His cock is hurting, pulsing with need, his hand wanders down to your free hand, he can't talk, his brain is going mushy with all this affection and need, you let him guide your hand, your fingers teasingly brush against the small patch of wetness on his pants.

Jayce lets out a wet and completely lewd sound, his whole body shudders and throws his head back into the cushion. You shudder with excitement, biting your cheek as your fingers undo his pants and finally release his throbbing and leaking cock from his boxers. He moans softly as your fingers brush against his bare skin.

"Nghh- d-doll, please, please, hurts-" He manages to whimper out, his eyes flutter as your hand wraps around his cock, the slow movement makes him whine.

"Good boy, I'll go slow." You whispered softly, leaning back down to meet his lips again, this time the kiss is slower, more soft, he pants and moans against your mouth as your hand moves up and down, stroking his sensitive length.

"s-sweetheart..." He called between gasps and pants, you pulled away slightly, your hand still stroking now a tad faster.

"Yes, baby?" You whisper, pressing a soft kiss on his forehead, making his eyes flutter a little bit. Some small shots of cum start leaking already, but you keep stroking, he opened his mouth to talk but only moans came out as you speedy your rhythm, his eyes roll back, his leg started shaking.

His eyes widen, his fingers burying on your skins as he throws his head back, a long shot of cum spitting out of his throbbing cock painting part of your arm white.

"ngh-! Hmmm! D-doll oh!" Tears form on his hazel eyes as another load of his cum shot, he moans against the cushion.

"Good boy, there you go, my lovely." You whispered, peppering kisses on the side of his face. He pants desperately, almost gasping for air, a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead. The praise goes straight to his brain, his cock still hard and throbbing against your hand.

"Inside you, please, beautiful." He muttered, his hands clinging to your sides like a life line. You stare at him, as you ponder his request, your thumb wiping the tears off his face. You would be lying if all this moaning and crying didn't leave you needy for more.

"Want to be inside me, baby?" You asked softly with a smirk, he nods frantically with a whimper, he mumbles 'please' over and over rapidly, like a prayer. You shushed him by pressing soft kisses on his lips, with a couple of smooth movements your pants and underwear were off. He stares up at you, scanning your features, every little thing that was slowly becoming foggy on his memory when he was in that cave.

Jayce's eyes roam down at your fingers rubbing onto your sensitivity, your soft moans filling your ears as you make yourself wetter, he leans in and steals a couple of kisses, making you gasp softly and smile softly.

"Mhm...pretty..." He whimpered out between pants, your hand returned to his cock, stroking again as you positioned yourself better.

"Wanna taste you..." He adds with a whine. You shushed him gently, cupping his face.

"Another time, my love." You whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, his fingers buried deep on your skin, the neediness and strong cling onto you was making you feel so good already. With a soft gasp you went down, his aching member sliding into your wet folds pretty easily. Jayce moaned softly, his healthy leg moved slightly to find a better position, the small movement was enough to bury himself deeper and make you whimper in pleasure.

It's been so long since he filled you so nicely, but you two were like puzzle pieces, perfectly fitting.

"Oh- mhm- I missed you so much, puppy." You gasped softly before starting rocking your hips, his eyes roll in the most delicious way, his mouth slightly open as he pants and moans softly with the slow rhythmic movement.

Your whole body tingles with pleasure, this is slower and far gentler than you've ever been with each other, but after such a long time it felt so good. Almost as good as the first kiss, the first time his hands wandered around your body.

"s-nhg- so good." He mumbled almost mindlessly between moans, his hips moving alongside yours for a couple of seconds. Jayce was exhausted, incredibly so but he needed this so badly. The way you felt around him, your soft sounds and movements made the tiredness dissipate for a moment. He can pretend he's just with you, there's nothing wrong, not when you're with him, your lips touching every inch of his face and your hands caressing him.

Unsurprisingly, the pleasure became too much, his hands gripped around your hips harder and pushed you down, making you moan and tug on his hair involuntarily. With a couple of pushes from his, his leg started to shake, tears built again around his eyes.

"Doll-"

"I know, puppy, you can come." You panted softly, biting your lip as his hips become a little faster and aggressive. A small sob breaks through him before morphing in with a moan, he gasps and leans his head back on the cushion, his seed shooting inside you, the grip on your hips weakness. It felt so heavenly, the gentle throbbing along his sweet sounds were enough to leave you satisfied, Jayce was whispering curses to himself as he finally found relief.

"G-good boy- so good, my love." You whispered shakily, leaning down to rest your forehead against his, some droplets of sweat trailing down his face. His thumbs ran gentle circles against your skin, just feeling you and grounding himself back to reality.

"Love y'so much." Jayce murmurs softly, the pooled tears falling down silently along his cheeks.

"I love you too, puppy." You whispered back, you pulled away from his forehead and tried to untangle your from his body.

"No, pl-please, sweetheart." Jayce murmurs, his voice thick and a little sleepy, he tugs you back in, making you chuckle and nuzzle your face on his chest.

"Just a minute more." He says, keeping himself inside you, one of his hands traveling up to your hair, his chapped lips resting on top of your hair.

"Just let me feel you."

Taglist: @pickuptruck01 @sseleniaa

A/N: IM SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG, I hope y'all like it, I went in deep with the feelings instead of the smut I'm so so sorry.

[crescenthistory]

Haunt Me, Then

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Synopsis: The Hunger Games AU; After your best friend miraculously won his games, you were never to see him again – until your last Reaping as an eligible citizen ends catastrophically for you and another one of your friends.

Words: 6.1k

Warnings/tags: fem!reader, us of y/n, Hunger Games typical warnings, grief, implied loss, heavy hurt/comfort, talk of death and poverty, Capitol Citizen!Bellatrix Lestrange, same for barty sorry, angst, some fluff, childhood best friends (to lovers), physical affection, unwanted physical touches, creepy Capitol behaviour, heavy disassociation, strategically used characters, background bsf!marylene, implied that sirius got the finnick odair treatment, nb! it's a thg au but not thg canon compliant (aka i make the rules here)

A/N: this is sooooo exciting to me. your district is only implied (district 7) in this one and there are a lot of purposefully unresolved threads 🌝 there's more to come, if you want it. and yes – the title is from the wuthering heights quote "you said i killed you – haunt me, then"

You hated Reaping day for more reasons than most.

While no person, whether they are of eligible age or not, enjoyed being in that town square annually, watching the Capitol representatives clown away on stage as your heart and ears thundered with anticipatory fear, you were left with the biting pain of the past, present and future all at the same time.

Stood in a sea of people, feeling both as if you were drowning and had a spotlight shining on you, you feared for yourself. You writhed beneath the thought of how many times your name had gone into that bowl in an attempt at keeping your loved ones safe, you winced at the knowledge that it would be just the perfect karmic timing for you to have everything taken from you this one last time.

Clutching onto Mary’s trembling fingers with one hand and Marlene’s little sister Mabel with the other, you feared for your loved ones. Your makeshift found family now consisted of the McKinnons, the McDonalds, the Pettigrews and you – and you could not bear the thought of how many of you were jammed into the plaza today. Marlene and her older siblings had aged out, but you, Mary and Peter were still in for your last year. Your mouth ran dry at the thought of how many years Mabel and the McKinnon and Pettigrew boys had left. Children. They were all just children – the very reason why you all kept consistently placing your own name in over and over again, to keep them safe. While you could never decide if you trusted the legitimacy of the arrangement that you could covertly buy someone’s immunity by placing your name in more times, you also could never help but try each year.

Thus far, it had worked. Mabel had at least never been picked. 

But then again, you knew of at least one person who was picked despite their supposed immunity. Odd how the guilt always forced your hand regardless; the risk was worth the potential reward.

You could feel her breaths grow shuddering beside you, but could not bring yourself to look down at her. You just wrapped an arm around her shoulders and shoved away the doomsday feelings brewing within your chest.

You felt guilty for even fearing for yourself, because you knew well how out of everyone, your name was in there probably the least amount of times. Apart from buying the immunity of one of your friends’ siblings, you had never needed to buy anything with tickets of your name. You had been financially looked out for to a much larger degree than most could dream, and not had your hand forced. At first, the help came through the direct acts of kindness from your best friend, and then later, you would somehow just always find exactly what you needed. Whenever the Capitol increased ridiculous taxes that felt as if they were specifically designed to wring you dry, there would be a freshly opened position for you to apply for, a wad of cash found in one of the boxes you looked through, even a charity basket by your door that you would always pass on to the rowdy McKinnon home. 

Part of you could hear his whispered promise to you whenever these blessings seemingly fell into your lap, but you always pushed it down. It couldn’t be.

“I will always take care of you, princess”.

Above all else, being in the town square tore up your heart because you could only ever think of him. Of Sirius.

Of that day 5 years ago, when you had just started breathing normally after they called some girl’s name you did not know in the Reaping, only for your lungs to be ripped from you permanently at the sound of the reaped boy.

The second “Regulus Black” boomed through the scratching speakers, your heart was shattered into a million pieces, because it was immediately followed up by: “I volunteer.”

When your head whipped to the side to witness your best friend in the whole world march towards his inevitable death, you had found his sad grey eyes already fixed on you through the massive sea of bodies. You have no recollection of the sounds after that, but you know you were crying, trashing even, in the firm grip of Marlene as she forced you into a bear hug to stop you from trying to be a human shield for the one person you could not stomach losing. The sight of Sirius kissing Regulus’ head and squeezing Peter's arm before taking to the stage, shoulders squared and jaw lifted, already looking every bit like a child warrior was burned into your retinas.

It took years before it was not the first image you saw whenever you closed your eyes. It still sometimes was.

That day, you had been certain your best friend was lost. When they let his loved ones bid him a quick goodbye in a solitary room after the ceremony, you had stood to the back with your hiccuping sobs, allowing Regulus the space you knew he needed. Marlene and Mary passed through, so did Peter, until it was just you left.

His parents did not show up.

While Sirius had kept up the facade with the others, his face crumbled when it met yours in your momentary privacy – save the Peacekeepers by the door. You had been hugging your front to keep from falling apart, but the second he slumped back against the desk and opened his arms for you, you were wrapped up in them.

At just 13 and 14 you were each other’s worlds. Grown up as neighbors, surviving just about everything together.

And it was because he was just 14 that you had no belief he could survive the games – at that point, no 14 year old had, and no matter how strong Sirius Black was, it took more than strength to break through that harrowing cycle.

Sirius had let his first few tears slip and fall into your hair, holding onto you for dear life. You can’t remember what you said anymore, just the way he smelled, just the way he held you and the murmurs he whispered into your skin as he swayed you.

“I’m sorry, I had to. You’re wonderful. I love you. You’ll be okay. I love you.”

You hoped to the gods you had said it back.

Though you did not know that then, you had been correct. Your best friend was lost that day – but he survived his games. 

It had been a torturous few months, forced to see him paraded around like a piece of meat only to suffer through one of the longest games anyone had seen. You had sworn you would not watch it, but could not resist taking a peek at a small screen you snuck into your bedroom, crying as you caressed his face that looked so void of the Sirius you knew. Sometimes he would find a nearby camera and stare into it as he fell asleep, almost as if he could actually see you, feel your touch. You hoped it comforted him; that thought had you returning to the screen almost every night. The only nights you didn’t were the ones where you and Regulus slept in the same bed to keep each other sane, tethered.

When you two eventually woke up to the news that he managed to outlast the final tribute overnight, you cried until you laughed only to laugh until you cried.

On the day of Sirius’ return, you had made everything ready; dusted his room, bought the ingredients for his favourite dessert, orchestrated for his parents to be elsewhere, planned what to say with Regulus, who was equally as teary. Except when the Capitol Carriage swept up by the entrance and you ran out to greet him, only Peacekeepers exited the carriage, forcing you to step back. The blinds were shut. 

You stumbled, entirely bewildered by the situation, sharing deeply concerned looks with Regulus. You had tried shouting for Sirius, you had tried asking the Peacekeepers, but you were left with nothing but silence.

While you were dumbfounded, Regulus grew agitated. With months worth of guilt piling up, it was easy work for them to bubble over into anger; he pushed past the Peacekeepers to try and bang on the wall of the carriage, yanking on the locked door handle. His screams of Sirius' name were cut off in an instant when the Head Peacekeeper slammed the back of his rifle against Regulus' neck. He lurched, tried to regain his footing, before he crumbled to the ground.

Acting more on instinct than anything else, you dragged him off to the side and held him tight to your chest, as if that would protect him. With an unconscious Regulus in your lap, you were forced to watch them carry down all of Sirius’ belongings, packed haphazardly in bags, and shove them into the back of the carriage. 

It drove off without you ever even catching a glimpse of Sirius. 

The next time you saw him was a few days later, on a broadcasted interview where he announced his permanent move to the Capitol. Clad in shining black clothes that could have fed the entirety of Districts 11 and 12, he had taken on the persona of the Casanova of the Capitol, the goading gladiator, the wicked victor. 

The day after that, Regulus disappeared without any warning or trace. 

All you had was a seemingly private note slipped beneath your pillow that said “Don’t go looking” – you never told anyone about it. In the meantime, you were left completely and utterly alone. 

Grief settled into your veins, and you did the only thing you could: you settled into routine. Sweet, hard-working routine to keep your storms at bay until you had made some sort of life for yourself. With one job as a wooden toy carver and another as a wood sculptures, not to mention the dinner rotation at the McKinnons and the Pettigrews, you kept busy. You could pretend to forget.

Until you couldn’t. Each year when you were forced into that town square, the memories haunted you viciously, cruelly – taunting you with how little you understood, how much time had passed. Beneath it all, there was a simmering of the one emotion you never could get rid of in the grief and confusion; love. It was the singular thing that powered all within you, ranging from the determination to the resentment. Oh, how you loathed how much you loved and missed your Black brothers.

You felt Mabel jump beside you at the crackle of the sound system, as the new Capitol representatives got ready to commence the Reaping. You shared a quick glance with Mary, acknowledging how the younger girl had to be your priority right now.

“It’s alright, Bel,” you whispered, shifting to hold her tighter against your side. “That sound means it’s almost over. Soon we’re done.”

Mary squeezed your own hand in return, almost as if to say take your own advice. You smiled meekly at her, and she rewarded you for your efforts by momentarily placing her forehead on your shoulder.

The younger girl just buried herself into you and you sighed to make yourself softer. It was her second Reaping, which meant it was far from her last. You understood her fear well, but still, you wanted to quell it.

The further the representatives got into their speeches, the longer the same old video droned on for, the more you disappeared from the current moment. It was hard to differentiate between past and present in these few heavy minutes, so you preferred to be in neither, to float up and out of your body. The only thing grounding you was your two friends pressed up against you, and that was all you needed. Nothing they could say up there was of any meaning to you.

Sirius never attended the Reapings the way some of the other victors did. They would line up at the front, on occasion even make speeches themselves, but never Sirius. He had yet to be a mentor, but you knew that victors were supposed to have a meeting of sorts before each game, where one of them was selected for the year. You often found yourself wondering where that meeting took place, if it was at the Capitol or nearby, if you unknowingly were standing just a couple hundred metres from him where he waited backstage or on the train.

A part of you hoped to never find out. A part of you hoped to never be near him again.

Most of you knew that was a poisonous lie.

These were thoughts you promptly pushed away. They did you no good – it had been made clear to you that you were not to think of the noble victor Sirius Black anymore.

The muscles in your back tensed more and more, shoulders hiking higher and higher the longer into the speeches the Capitol representatives got. Knowing that a name was soon to be pulled, yet you kept yourself disconnected.

Almost over, almost over.

The sudden outburst of sound and emotion around you – cries of relief, gasps of shock, whispered reactions– alerted you to the fact that a name had been called.

However, it was Mary’s loud sob and her face turning towards yours with nothing short of horror written over it that told you it was someone you knew.

One glance up into her grieving eyes told you that no, it was– it was you.

After so many years of just barely dodging it, you had been reaped. You were reaped. You were reaped. If your thoughts mere moments before had been a cloud, dragging you up above the crowd, they now became an anchor, cementing your feet to the ground.

“Mary…” you began, but were cut off by a static crackle.

“Y/N L/N? Come now love, don’t be scared.” The glee and excitement in the Capitol woman’s voice was nauseating, but it did kick you into action – and everyone else around you too, as the crowd seemed to separate to form a physical beacon on where the three of you stood, pressed together.

Your body moved on instinct; it was as if you were possessed by Sirius’ memory, pulling Mabel's crying form against you and kissing her head much like he had done with Regulus, squeezing Mary’s shoulder with a tight-lipped smile much like he had done with Peter. Ignoring your heart and mind screaming through sobs and anger as you released yourself from both of their grips to walk down the metaphorical red carpet leading up towards the stage. Chin tilted up, face schooled into nothingness. Eyes burning at the lights that suddenly shone upon you, but yet fighting to keep from squinting. Forcing the tremble away from your fingers by balling them up into fists as you began to ascend the steps to the stage. 

“There we are, darling,” the male Capitol representative, who you had yet to bother learning the name of, essentially cooed at you, reaching out a hand for you to take.

You walked past it and assumed the position to the right of them both, staring emptily into the air. 

He chuckled in a low, menacingly lilting tone. “Okay, well, we can see what kind of tribute we just selected, can’t we, Bella?”

“We sure can, Barty,” the woman, Bella, replied with a gleaming smile. “As for her comrade in arms…” she trailed off for dramatic effect before dipping her fingers with their ridiculously long and sharp nails down into the pot.

From a distance, it was easier to distort the sounds of their voices. Now up close, you couldn’t help but hear every word passing between the two representatives, no matter how loud the screaming in your own head was.

No. No, no, no, no.

“... Peter Pettigrew!” Bella shouted cheerily, with a screeching joy that all but punctured your eardrums.

No. 

You squeezed your eyes shut from the first syllable, fighting the shaking taking over your body. Heavily, your shoulders slumped and your face began to fall at the revelation, before you scrambled for any and every piece of strength in your body to square up once again and face the literal sound of the music.

Deep breaths. 

In the corner of your eye, you saw him climb the stairs to stand beside you. For only a brief second, you dared glance over, only to see the pure terror written all over Peter’s face, only to immediately regret it and whip your face forward again. You knew in your heart that you were not making it out of these games – and unlike with Sirius, the feeling settled like wings on your shoulders instead of rocks. If you were honest, you knew Peter would likely not either, but you could at least fight for him, in the hope that he would.

The man Bella had called Barty came up behind you both and placed a strikingly cold hand on your shoulders, twisting you to face one another. It was custom to shake hands with your fellow tribute, but for the Capitol representatives to lay hands on you like this was certainly not. You fought back the urge to shake it off.

“Now if the tributes may shake hands,” Barty said with a wicked grin, speaking loudly enough for the microphone a metre away to pick up on it – thus too loudly. “And may the odds be ever in your favour.”

Peter’s hand was trembling with such force that he could barely move it away from his body. With a quick sideway glance at the cameras, you reached forward to grab it, steadying it even as you shook it. Peter could not meet your gaze, and not a single part of you could hold it against him; you merely squeezed his hand reassuringly. That had to be enough for now.

As soon as you let go, Bella closed the Reaping Ceremony with a flourish. 

You kept your chin elevated and your gaze empty as you began to move, lest it meet any of your friends and family in the many separated crowds. You weren’t sure if you would be able to keep it up if your eyes locked with Mary’s parents, with Peter’s brothers he just had to leave. Instead, you walked behind the walls with a pin straight back and let the Peacekeepers lead you through the townhouse, room after room, keeping all your emotions balled up. You signed some papers in one room, received a bag with a uniform in another. Finally you walked into the very same room that broke your heart 5 years ago, where your friends and family were already waiting.

The goodbyes were a flurry. Nothing felt real.

You hugged every one of the McKinnon siblings goodbye and nodded weakly when they begged that you would come back home to them, unable to make false promises verbally. The eldest, your Marlene, was the only one who did not plead; she grabbed each side of your face with a determined look and forced you to meet her eyes. “You will come home, Y/N. You will. I am not giving you a choice, you are making it back to us. Do you hear me?”

Even her, you could only spare a nod. But you listened and held her gaze through every word she spoke to make up for it, which seemed to be enough for now. Her hug was even more crushing now than when she kept you from running after Sirius and getting gunned down during his Reaping.

Mary had been silently crying through it all. When she hugged you, your collar was instantly wettened, and you could not help but wonder if this was how it felt for Sirius when you cried into him. You hoped it wasn’t, even as you knew it was. 

When every cheek was kissed and every I love you uttered, you sized them up with a resolved gaze. You let it drag carefully over them all, committing them to memory, one last time. 

Marlene could see what you were doing. With minimal movement, she shook her head – not admonishingly, but the correction was clear nonetheless. You will come back. You gave her a tight-lipped smile, and gave them all a final nod before exiting, allowing Peter to enter for his own goodbyes.

You stopped to say something to him, to hug him or give any reaction, but he scurried past you before you could. Even as you kept walking, your heart was sinking.

There was only one Peacekeeper waiting for you in the hallway. “Where do I go now?” You hated how weak your voice sounded, but at least there were no cameras here to catch it this time.

“Mrs. Lestrange is waiting for you around the corner. She will take you to meet your mentor on the train.” Even in your shock, you were baffled by the extreme lack of emotion in his voice. It was almost like talking to a robot, except it had distinctly human eyes. You supposed that was something to get used to.

“Thank you,” you replied, unsure if that was a common custom with Peacekeepers.

You heard Bella before you saw her, she was excitedly recapping the entire Reaping process to Barty, as if it did not just end and he wasn’t there for the whole thing. He didn't seem to mind; he was twirling around himself, as if your metaphorical dead body was his favourite meadow to frolic through. Her clapping hands and screeching voice made you sick to your stomach, but her eyes might as well be cameras in the court of public opinion, so you picked your facade back up.

“I was told you would take me to the train.” You interrupted one of her tirades, and when her head snapped towards you, there was a second of blazing fire in her expression before she realised that it was you – a new plaything. The glee set back into her within a second.

“Oh, this was the part I was the most excited about.” She smacked a kiss to Barty's cheek before grabbing your elbow to drag you away with her. You had to clench your teeth not to rip it away from her – these Capitol people were handsy. “It’s about time for a reunion, don’t ya’ think?”

You weren’t sure what she was saying most of the time, though you rarely were with Capitol people. Yet the pinching feeling in your stomach did not recede to make space for confusion, nor did your shoulders lower even a fraction.

There was a special entrance to the train that you could access through the townhouse, so that you would not be too swamped by onlookers. Bella was explaining the whole ordeal to you somehow, but as the metallic train came into view through the windows, the blood rushing through your head got louder and louder, even more so than her pitchy voice. 

With this entrance, you only had to walk a meter unsheltered in the transition between the townhouse and the train. Shortly after the first gust of wind hit you was it again shut away as you stepped onto the metallic floorboards.

“Where are we going?” You found yourself asking Bella, unsure if she had already answered this or even if she was in the middle of a sentence.

She looked at you as if you were dumb, but it did not lessen her unnerving smile even a fraction nor stop her quick strides through the many corridors of the train. “Well, to meet your loverboy, duh.”

You stopped in the middle of a step, staring at her incredulously, unsure if you heard her correctly. A frustrated groan escaped her when she had to stop too, looking at you as if you were quite tedious. You knew who she must be referring to, but you had no idea why she would. At least like that.

“Am I not to meet with my potential mentors?” You tried to force any emotion out of your sentence.

“You’re being so silly, did you know that?” Bella took your arm once more, jostling you along with her. “Your mentor has already been decided, stupid. He’s waiting just over there, come on.”

You stumbled slightly in your step from how forcefully she dragged you. You were unsure if she even knew that she was gripping you as hard as she was, or if there was some serious disconnect between her mind and body. 

She only let you go in favour of ripping open a rather large oak door and releasing an unnecessarily loud “ta dah!”. 

The back you were met with was one you would have recognised in every life. 

He stood hunched over a table, hands splayed out so wide they were shaking, black curls hanging messily in his face, breathing ragged. At the sound of Bella’s entrance and you being ushered in, he whipped around.

It was Sirius. Of course it was. Your heart wanted to say it was your Sirius, but you could clearly see that he wasn’t. 

Though he looked different than he had on the occasional glance you stole of him onscreen, he still didn’t look the way you remembered either. No longer was he the scrawny boy you grew up with, the one you messed around in fields with, the one you read books with, the one you cried with and slept beside and walked beside and lived beside. Before you stood a weathered man, sharp in his handsomeness, pointed in every one of his features, guarded by an army of layers yet wearing more emotions than suited him. He had a few tattoos creeping up the side of his neck, the onyx ink shining in contrast to his pale skin.

The one thing that remained the same was the utter heartbreak spelled out in his eyes. It was the same as when he saw you last, only perhaps worse.

No, it was decidedly worse. When the stormy greys landed on your face, flitting about so rapidly that you were unsure how he could even see, lips parting ever so slightly, whatever tormented him settled in deeper. He looked inconsolable.

Sirius opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again. As if he didn’t know what to say, as if there were no words.

His attention was abruptly shifted over to Bella when she clapped her hands together in mirth. “Isn’t this exciting!” she exclaimed, looking back and forth between you. “Aren’t you going to hug in greeting? Aren’t you going to ki–”

“Bellatrix.” Sirius spoke through gritted teeth, all of his pain schooled away in favour of a burning fire when he faced her. His voice was so much deeper than you remembered, so much hoarser. “Get lost. This is a meeting between mentor and tribute.”

“Oh, this is hardly a meeting or classified in any way, Siri. Just–”

He cut her off once more. “I won’t tell you again.” He eyed her with a severe glare. “Leave us. Now.”

It looked like Bellatrix wanted to fight him on it, but after looking between you three more times, she evidently decided she had gotten enough out of this endeavour. “You’re too serious, Black,” she said with a giggle. “Don’t bite her face off, you dog, she needs it for the interviews.”

She seemed to all but float out of the room, but closed the door behind her with a loud bang. You kept your head craned sideways, eyes burning a hole through the door where she left, leering. 

The silence in the room felt more deafening than the volume of the plaza had. You had no idea what to say – this was nothing like what you could have imagined.

You and Sirius, alone in a room. Something you had craved more than words could explain, but that you now backed away from with every fibre of your being.

“Princess.” Sirius breathed the word out like he had been choking on it. Before you had the time to turn your head fully back towards him, he had swept you up into a bone-crushing hug. “Y/N,” he whispered into your neck, almost reverently. 

A minute ago you were walking down the hallways with an awful stranger, and now you were embraced by someone who, despite everything, was painfully known to you. It did not compute in your mind, everything was whirring and screeching, and unlike what he once could, Sirius did not quiet the noises.

He almost did, though. Just almost. With his arms around your back, fingers splaying around your ribs, with your nose shoved against his neck as he cradled you, his scent taking over your senses, you could almost fall into it. Could almost fall into him. Your Sirius.

He smelled the same.

You reared backwards out of his touch, back hitting the wall as you stumbled. Your eyes felt wide, almost like a cornered animal, your lips parted as you stared at him. You realised you were breathing heavily. If he was startled by you ripping away from him, his face didn’t show it.

Studying his face now gave you a wave of deja vu so strong, it almost made you dizzy. There was no way you could communicate anything effectively at the minute.

“Sirius, what the fuck?!” 

You hadn’t meant for your voice to be so loud, but not even that drew a reaction from him. Kicking yourself off the wall, you walked past him – leaving a large amount of space between you – dragging your fingers through your hair as you did so. You began a sentence multiple times, but no coherent word came out. “Why are you here? What just happened?” you ended up whispering, feeling pathetic at how close to a whimper it was. “Who–” You stopped. That was a sentence you did not have it in you to complete. 

Who are you?

When you turned around to face him, you found that he had followed after you, keeping a respectable distance but still within arm’s reach, as if he couldn’t allow you to get further than that. For the first time since you stepped into the town square, tears began to fight to well in your eyes. Sirius didn’t look away from them.

“I’m so sorry.” His voice was barely a whisper, insistent and imploring. “Y/N, I am so sorry.”

“For what?” You choked out, wrapping your arms around your stomach, not much unlike you had during his Reaping. Sirius’ gaze flitted down to your arms before moving back up, and it was as if you could see the memory playing across his irises.

He heaved a deep breath before rubbing his hands up and down his own face. When he lowered them, he gave you a look of defeat.

“I– let’s start over again,” he said then. He gave you a rueful smile. “Hi, princess.”

You looked at him, uncertain of whether you should start crying or laughing. You settled on a scowl in between. “I’m not sure you get to call me that anymore.” You looked away from his face as you said it, unwilling to see his reaction. “But sure. Hi, Sirius.”

When you dared a glance at him, he had his lips pressed together and a look of remorse in his eyes. You hated that you could still read him like this, for more than one reason.

“I was roughhoused onto the train last night. Told that I was to be the mentor of these games, whether I’d like to or not, no more information.” He said, as if that explained anything.

You couldn’t help the bite in your reply. “Am I meant to feel sorry for you? I was just given a death sentence. And now I have to face my ex best friend who I haven't seen in five years. This is some awful joke.”

This time you didn’t avert your gaze, the simmer within you for once bursting into a flame, however short-lived, and you got to witness how his face jerked backwards as if you had slapped him. In some way, you kind of had.

Your anger was not mirrored in his expression, but a form of determination took over his face as he spoke. “You weren’t. You weren’t.” 

“What?” you asked dumbly, yet uncaring of sounding it.

Sirius stepped towards you, gingerly taking your hands into his own. His touch burned, the new awkwardness of the gesture burned. “You weren’t given a death sentence. I wasn’t and you weren’t. I bloody swear to you, Y/N, you will make it through these games.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to pull away from his touch, but you managed to at least not lean into it. There was a dangerous gloss coated over his grey eyes when you met them with your own, and for a second you got lost in them. Your voice cracked as you asked, “Why?”

Sirius let out a humourless laugh and suddenly brought you back into a hug, as if he just couldn’t help himself. Your hands were trapped between you in an embrace with one of his, but he rested his forehead against your temple and seemingly breathed you in.

“I am so, so sorry you have to ask that, princess. I’m so sorry, but I had to go.”

You shivered in his hold. These were words that you dreamed of – but had they not been nightmares? You shook your head but made no other move to remove yourself.

"It's been five years, you know? I'm not sure we even know each other at this point."

Sirius' answer was immediate. "I know you." He pressed his forehead firmer against you. "I know you."

The emotion in his voice rendered you speechless.

He pulled backwards without releasing you from the embrace, leaning away just enough to catch your gaze with his. It felt like the floor was giving way beneath you. His hand on your back travelled up to your cheek. “I'm sorry for it all. Always. And I’m sorry for calling you princess when you just asked me not to,” he added with a hint of the sheepish smile you once loved.

You opened and closed your mouth, absolutely dumbfounded, and he just stared at you patiently. Warmly. Desperately. 

“Sirius–”

You were cut off by the door swinging open once more, causing Sirius to physically spring away from you, suddenly putting multiple metres between you at the sign of new guests. You almost stumbled at the change in positions, and you saw his hand twitch when he cast a glance your way, as if it ached to steady you.

“Now that the lovers have had their private greeting, maybe it’s time to include the other tribute in your strategies, Siri? Or are we just going to let itty bitty Peter die at the cornucopia?”

Bellatrix’s high pitched voice pierced through your ears, and you felt a mountain of guilt fall on top of you when your eyes fell on Peter cowering behind her, his eyes flitting wildly between you and Sirius. In your whirlwind of emotion, you had almost forgotten that he was as doomed as you were.

One glance to your right showed you that Sirius had no idea Peter had been reaped too. His brows furrowed and his lips fell into a decidedly downturned frown. “What– no, Pete,” he breathed out, arms falling to his sides.

“Hi, Sirius,” Peter squeaked, seemingly uncertain about what their dynamic was now, but relieved at at least being acknowledged.

Sirius stepped forward and physically nudged Bellatrix to the side as he pulled Peter in for his own hug. The sight stung in a way you couldn't communicate.

Over Sirius’ back, Bellatrix was grinning at you wickedly.

“Seems like you three have a conundrum or two to work through for us, don’t you?” Barty said cheerily as he emerged from behind Peter, clapping his hands down on his shoulders and making the younger boy jump in fear.

Bellatrix laughed as if that was just the funniest joke, and all but skipped up to you to tug at your cheek while turning to look at Sirius’ face that became increasingly stony at the sight of Bellatrix’s hands on you.

“Don’t you, Siri?” she pushed, giggling in a nearly maniacal manner. “Luckily, the Capitol is still far off. Gives you just loads of time to catch up, yeah?”

[esmeefreckles]

Welcome home| Leah Williamson x reader

+18 SMUT MINORS DNI

LIGHT BDSM. STRAP-ONS. SPANKING. VAGINAL FINGERING. IMPACT PLAY. PRAISE KINK. DEGRADATION. MOMMY KINK.

A key turning in the lock awoke you, you must've dozed off waiting for Leah to get home, the sun was beginning to set outside the window. You sat up quickly, trying to rub the sleep out of your eyes without ruining your makeup more than your little nap probably did. Heavy footsteps came towards you, you smiled to yourself as anticipation built inside you. As soon as she saw you, Leah hoisted you up into her arms, holding you tight against her chest. She wasn’t that much taller than you but she was still able to make you feel small in the best ways.

“I missed you, princess,” she mumbled into your neck. She peppered you with kisses, making you laugh as she nuzzled into that one ticklish spot in your neck. After about a thousand kisses she released you from her grasp, sitting on the couch instead. Her muscled thighs strained against her pants, she patted her lap for you to come sit. “Were you a good girl while I was gone?”

“I missed you so much, mommy, I was such a good girl while you were gone,” you chirped as you crawled into her lap. Still a bit drowsy from your nap, you laid your head on her shoulder after you were seated comfortably in her lap. She stroked your hair, nails feeling heavenly against your scalp. You kissed her neck lightly, a silent thank you.

“I know you were, baby. You’re always my good girl,” Leah cooed, planting a kiss on your forehead. She ran her hands down your body, smoothing down your dress. She always loved when you wore dresses or skirts, easy access, aside she loved how cute you looked in them.“You even dressed up for me, you look gorgeous, princess.”

You always made sure you looked your best when Leah got home after being away, Leah didn’t care all that much about your appearance but you know she can’t resist a tight dress and a pretty face.

“How was your trip mommy?” You had watched her matches on the TV, only really watching to see her. She looked so hot, you had to resist certain urges so you wouldn’t get in trouble. You used to get jealous watching her play, not wanting her to even look at anyone else, but with time you got over it and began appreciating watching her work.

“It was good, sweetheart. I didn't do too much outside of the matches, hung out with the girls a bit but that was it. I just wanted to hurry up and come home to you.” Her lips met yours softly.

You melted into her, pulling yourself impossibly closer as the sweet kiss quickly turned heated, her thigh brushing against you in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. You felt Leah smirk against your lips, she knew you too well. Her hands found their way to your hips, giving them a playful squeeze before guiding them to grind against her. Her thigh flexed underneath you, making you moan against her lips.

“You sound so pretty, baby,” Leah mused against your lips. She continued guiding your hips, starting to feel your wetness through your panties. As she leaned back into the couch she took in the absolutely debauched display in front of her. Your cheeks were flushed and your eyes were getting hazy as a thin layer of sweat began to build on your body. She continued pulling whines and whimpers from your lips as she worked you over her thigh, flexing and bouncing it as she pleased.

“Mommy,” you whined, clinging to her shirt. You were panting a bit, the intense pleasure leaving you breathless. You wanted more, you wanted her to ruin you right here on the couch but you knew she wouldn’t. Leah always loved to take her time with you after a trip, making up for everything she couldn’t do to you in her absence.

“What’s wrong baby?” Leah cooed, firmly seating you on her thigh. A smirk creeped across her face as you struggled against her for more friction, whining when you couldn’t win against her. “Use your words, princess. Tell mommy what you need.”

“Need more,” you mumbled. You knew you would get it for that but it was always a little embarrassing to beg. A light swat landed on your right thigh, enough to sting but not hurt too much. Leah shot you a look that told you exactly what you knew she would say. “Need more please, mommy,” you corrected.

Leah released her grip, kissing you as a way to say you did good. You rocked your hips against her thigh, it felt better when she helped you and she knew it, she just liked to watch you struggle. She put her arms behind her head as she fully rested back on the couch, muscles flexing as she watched your little show. You huffed and whined as you pulled desperately at her clothes, frustration taking over as tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

“Aww, princess don’t cry. Mommy will take care of you, do you want that?” You nodded quickly, sniffling and wiping your eyes. “Do you want mommy’s thigh or her fingers?” The answer was obvious but Leah just wanted to see you squirm a bit more.

“Fingers, please, need you,” you managed to stutter out. Leah let out a small chuckle before standing from the couch, taking you with her. She held you tight as she made her way to the bedroom, nudging the door open with her foot and making her way to the bed. Carefully, she lowered you onto the bed, placing you among the pillows. You watched as she stepped out of her pants, leaving her in just her cropped t-shirt and tight boyshorts.

Leah made her way to you slowly, stalking you like a predator. A soft whine escaped you, feeling like prey about to be eaten. Leah had plans for you tonight, she knew you weren’t as good as you said but right now you looked ethereal, all flushed and needy with your little dress pooled around your hips showing off your soaked panties. A gasp escaped as she finally made contact with where you needed her most, hand brushing the wet spot on your panties.

“You ruined your panties, baby, you need me this bad?” Leah mocked as she teased you through your panties. “It’s okay, I know you can’t help it. You’re just being a good girl, being such a good little slut, all wet and ready for me.”

Leah practically ripped your panties off, exposing your wet and needy pussy to the cold air of the bedroom. Your knees clamped shut instinctively, just to be pried back open. She positioned herself between your knees, looming over you as she caressed your inner thighs, relishing in your little whines as you squirmed. She left a trail of kisses and marks from your knee to where your thigh met one of her favorite places. Her path continued toward your torso, pushing the dress up higher until she just took the damn thing off. As much as she loved your dresses, you in your most natural state was the most beautiful thing in her eyes.

“My pretty girl,” Leah hummed. “All mine.”

“All yours,” you echoed. Leah’s hands slowly traveled your body, one coming to cup your breast while the other held her weight. Her thumb brushed your nipple, making you gasp, she took this opportunity to capture your lips in another kiss. Your tongues danced intricately as she kneaded the breast in her hand before her hand began to creep upward. Her fingers wrapped loosely around your throat as she pulled away, a line of saliva still connecting you. A smirk found its way to her lips, you looked so wrecked.

“Mommy, please,” you begged. “Please, I need you so bad. Missed you so much, please.”

“Okay, princess. Mommy will take care of you,” Leah soothed. Her fingers trailed back down your body, her thumb finding your clit and starting in slow circles as she nipped and kissed your neck. Your back arched off the bed, body flooded with pleasure. A finger dipped into your entrance, testing the waters before fully diving in. A loud moan escaped you, this was the first time you had been filled up since she left.

Leah watched you with lust filled eyes as she began to pump her finger inside you. She licked her lips, you looked positively delicious underneath her. You grabbed at her, wanting her as close as possible. Your nails dug hard into her shoulder as she added another finger.

“Good girl, you take it so well,” Leah cooed. “You’re being so good, princess, maybe I’ll even fuck you tonight.”

“Please, mommy, want you fuck me,” you moaned out, head swimming with pleasure. You mouthed at her neck, sucking marks along her collarbones as you continued begging.

Leah hadn’t fully fucked you in nearly 2 weeks, you missed the feeling of her inside you while she loomed over you, telling you how good you are. Since being with Leah she had turned you into a total princess, she spoiled you in all aspects especially the bedroom. She always took care of you whether it be with her mouth, her fingers, or her strap, she didn’t let you lift a finger once you crossed the threshold of the bedroom. She was completely in control, her word was law and if you disobeyed you would be punished harshly but if you listened you were rewarded handsomely.

“I don’t know, princess. You weren’t as good as you told me you were while I was gone.” Leah mused, watching a wave of panic come over you. “You forgot about the camera in the living room, love. I saw you with that pillow between your thighs while you watched my match.”

“I‘m sorry mommy,” you cried, tears coming to your eyes. “Missed you so much and needed you, you looked so good.”

“Shh, baby. I know it was a mistake but you still need to be punished. You know that right?” You nodded, Leah’s tone was calm and cool. She wiped away your tears before easing her fingers out of you. She shushed your whine as she leaned over to the nightstand, pulling out her strap and one of the many paddles she owned.

“Okay, princess, you’re gonna take your punishment first and then I’ll fill you up. Okay?” You sniffled, nodding. “You can take the paddle or my hand, paddle is 20 and hand is 30, you need to count and after each one, and you need to tell me you’re sorry. Do you understand?”

“I understand mommy. I’ll take the paddle.” Leah gave you a soft kiss on the forehead, running her fingers through your hair and giving you soft reassurances.

“Okay, pretty girl, ass over the side of the bed and arms behind your back.” She guided you to the side of the bed, letting you situate yourself and making sure you crossed your arms behind your back. She started with a few light taps of her hand, warming you up for the real deal. The cool wood of the paddle brushed you, making you shiver, you could feel the cutouts in the wood as it slowly glided across your skin. Once she knew you were ready, she began.

Thwack

“One, I’m sorry, mommy.”

Thwack

“Two, I’m sorry, mommy.”

Thwack

“Three, I’m sorry, mommy.”

And so it went until finally, finally you reached 20. You heard Leah set the paddle down before pulling you up from the bed. Your ass was bright red and bruising, your face was tear streaked and messy, but you were still the most beautiful girl in the world to her. She praised you as she laid you back on the bed, putting you back in your spot among the pillows and tucking one under your hips. You watched as she put her harness on, securing it and making sure her strap was in right before getting back in the bed. She sat herself between your legs, spreading them to make room for herself.

“My good girl, still so wet for me. I probably don’t even need lube, I could just slip right in, huh.” Leah kissed along your jawline, nipping at your ear. Despite her statement she still grabbed the lube, applying a generous amount to her strap. “You ready, baby? You want mommy’s cock?”

“Mhm, need mommy’s cock, please,” you looked up at her, watching Leah’s face as she slipped inside you. You moaned out at the sensation, Leah biting her lip as she watched her cock disappear into you. Though it wasn’t actually connected to her, she still loved filling you up like this, the sight alone could make her cum.

Slowly she eased back out, starting at a slow but steady pace. Leah loved hearing all the little noises you made when she was inside you, the high pitched whines when she bottomed out or the panting moans right before you came for her. Your hands came to tug at her shirt, wanting to see her body as much as she was seeing yours. She understood what you wanted, flinging her shirt and bra off quickly. You moaned at the sight of her, eyes raking over the familiar tattoos as your hands grabbed at her body. She tapped your thigh, a silent encouragement to wrap your legs around her as she leaned over you, giving you easier access. Her hips were flush against yours, grinding into you as your legs pulled around her tight.

“You take it so good, baby. Look at how you just swallow it all up,” Leah looked down at where you were connected, your pussy twitching around het. “You’re such a good little slut, just taking whatever I give you.”

Leah’s hands wrapped around your hips tightly, effectively pinning you to the mattress as she began to pull out. She couldn’t go far with your legs still around her but it was enough to be able to pound back into you, loving the way it forced a loud moan to escape your lips. She continued to pound into you, your legs loosening around her waist until they fell on either side of her. She took this opportunity to pin one of your legs to the bed, hoisting the other over her shoulder. The new position felt so much deeper, especially with Leah still pounding into you relentlessly.

“Is this what you wanted, baby? When you were humping that pillow while you watched me play?” She smirked, watching you sputter as you tried to answer her.

“Y-yes, mommy. Looked so good and’ just missed you sooo much. Couldn’t help it, needed you so bad,” you said between moans. Leah relented a bit, going from harsh slow thrusts to quick shallow ones.

“I know, princess,” she soothed. “My little slut just can’t resist her mommy.”

Her free hand smoothed back your hair before taking a harsh handful, pulling your face to hers, she paused by your ear, giving it a small nip. “But next time you disobey me, I won’t be as nice,” Leah growled. Her eyes were dark with lust as she pulled back, her hips beginning a relentless pace. She reveled in your moans as you squirmed beneath her, thumb coming back to your clit once more, adding to the already intense pleasure.

You nodded along to her words, unable to speak through the overwhelming pleasure. Your hands clung to her, nails digging into her arms and shoulders as she pulled you closer and closer to your release. Leah knew your body so well, she could see the way you clenched around her, your eyes rolling back in your head as she pumped inside you. You started to beg, the words barely coming out as you tried so hard not to come without permission. She smirked down at you, loving every second of your brain dead babbling.

“Do you need something, baby?” Leah teased, head cocking to the side with her question. You cried out, trying so hard to form the words but you just couldn’t. Her relentless pace and her continued assault of your clit was too much, tears came to your eyes once again, fearing what she would do if you came without permission. There was once a period of almost a month where you weren’t allowed to cum or have her cock because you came without permission. You couldn’t do that again, especially with her going away again soon.

“It’s okay, princess, you don’t need to cry. Mommy knows what you need, go ahead. Cum for me,” Leah husked. With those words you finally let go, pleasure overtaking you. Moans escaped your mouth with no hesitation as she pushed you over the edge, clenching tight around her as waves of pleasure wrecked your body. Her hips slowed as you came down, thumb abandoning your clit and her arms coming to wrap around you. She whispered praises in your ear and showered you with kisses, waiting for you to catch your breath.

“Thank you, mommy,” you slurred, brain muddled with pleasure. You placed sloppy kisses everywhere you could reach, arms wrapping around Leah’s neck wanting her as close as humanly possible.

“Good job, baby. You were such a good girl,” she pet your hair, knowing it was one of your favorite parts of aftercare. You began mumbling your own praises against her skin, telling her how good you felt, how much you loved her.

Much to your disdain she began to pull out, you understood why but you still whined at the loss. She continued soothing you with praises as she unbuckled the harness for her strap and set it aside. She pulled you close, cradling you against her chest as she peppered you with kisses.

“Why don’t we run you a bath, love,” Leah said mostly to herself. “Do you want to stay here or come with me?”

“Come with,” you mumbled against her skin. She scooped you up, carrying you to the master bathroom and setting you on top of the counter. It was cold against your bruised skin, soothing the pain.

You watched as Leah ran the water for your bath, eyes trailing over her tattoos. The sound of rushing water filled the comfortable silence between the two of you. Once the water was ready, Leah helped you off the counter and into the tub, joining you after you flashed her your best puppy dog eyes. Your body relaxed in the warm water, laying against her chest as she played with your hair.

“How are you feeling, baby?” Leah asked, rubbing her free hand down your side. “Anything hurt?”

“Feeling good,” you hummed. “Still hurts where you spanked me but that’s all.”

“Okay, we’ll put something on it when we get out.” Lrah gently kissed your forehead, looking at you with loving eyes.

“I love you,” you said softly.

“I love you too, princess,” she replied. You pulled yourself away from her chest to bring your lips to hers for a gentle kiss. Your lips molded against hers, moving together in harmony.

[unacknowledgeable]

Bro SK! Reader with jinx personality is so good, I feel like she would see gordan as her "Silco", and I feel like SK reader would taste the blood of the people they kill in order to feel closer to them or something or she would take small items from the person to remember them idk tho just some silly little thoughts

Oh yeah, Gordon is totally readers “silco” in this scenario, and just like the Silco&Jinx relationship, they don't really have proper boundaries….? Like yeah they’re absolutely doing the weird half lap sitting during late nights at the office, running through dozens of case files that were due by the end of the week, highlighting each other's papers over the others shoulders.

they’ll hang out in Gordons apartment and watch shitty television, Gordon will cut your hair every few months because it’s just easier to have him do it (not because you can’t the thought of letting someone you don't trust that close to your neck, with scissors), you know eachothers coffee orders by heart, ye got some pretty harsh codependency issues

On Gordons end, he already has a daughter, but it’s just… Barbara has always been so independent, she stopped needing her dad in every aspect of her life a long time ago, one day she was his lil girl and the next she was a fully self actualized woman. He misses that, and he would never overstep her boundaries, he knows that isn't how she is with affection, but you don’t seem to mind, so it’s fine right? Right?

On your end, the last time you had a solid parental figure, you were basically allowed to be as clingy as you wanted, depending on your moms moods, so it’s not surprising that when your finally presented with that opportunity again, obviously you gonna start exactly where you left off, Gordon never seemed to have a problem with you climbing him like a monkey, so why stop?

You had tried to form that type of relationship with Bruce, but he never reciprocated, so backed off, figuring he was like your mother, gone one day and there the next, but he just never showed up. (Bruce absolutely curses himself everyday for this) and yeah, Alfred would totally hug you, but he was normally so busy and it just wasn't practical to have a child clinging to his arm like a sloth, coupled with years of low simmering resentment that began to build when you realized where his priorities would always lay, you stopped going to him for that sort of comfort.

Over the years, SK!Reader just became severely touch averse, because it was easier to pretend to hate it then admit to missing it desperately. It took awhile to start expecting Gordons grounding hand over their shoulders, rather than freezing up every time. 

ALSO how SK!Reader “bonds” with their victims.

Serial killers are sometimes known to take items from victims as sort of “trophies”, hair, jewelry, scraps of clothes, photos etc. which is something I wanted to have the reader do, without actually taking anything, too avoid incriminating evidence, confuse the fuck outta the police/bats, while also sating the need for a prize won. Hence, taking the victims ids, memorizing them, and putting them back exactly where you found it. You look up the person later, and learn everything there is to know about them. Family, friends, work, hangouts, shows they were watching that week, love life, everything they would have set out to do if you hadn't killed them, everything you took away, ruined, the ashes for the grieving loved one in your wake, it makes you feel so so important.

Sometimes, when you're feeling especially petty, you'll sneak into the batcave to add to the victims files, because you find it funny.

Thx for the ask haha

[lydiasfalling]

SUNSHINE , TEMPTRESS

percy jackson x apollo!reader

➸✧˖*°࿐ taglist : open!

˗ˋˏ warnings : none! pure fluff ˎˊ-

‧₊˚✧ lydia’s yap fest ! ✧˚₊‧

AHHHH first post!! i hope yall like this cute little fluffy one-shot cause i had a fun time writing it. recs are open!!

while you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, something about sleeping in percy’s bed made naps better. the warmth of his skin as he pressed into you was a feeling that would never get old. there you laid, basking in the sunlight that filter in through the window. you were tangled in percy’s sheets and blankets. he had white sheets, with little sharks printed on the fabric, and a light blue duvet. you could feel him shift in the space next to you, gripping your waist and pulling you further into him.

he let out a gentle huff that tickled the skin of your shoulder. judging by the way the sun sat in the sky, you two had napped until around five pm. carefully, you began to shuffle out of his tight embrace.

“Mmm—where ya’ going, sweet girl?” percy grumbled, voice clearly gone due to his slumber.

“to paint. you look so pretty. couldn’t help it.” you shrugged sheepishly, sitting down at your easel. percy had taken it upon himself to get painting supplies in his cabin because he didn’t want you to leave, which benefited both of you.

“your paints will be there later. . . !” he drew out the final syllable in the last word. you giggled at his annoyance, dismissing his protests to you painting.

you picked up your paint pallet, getting a base color on the entirety of the ivory canvas. as your brush danced across the surface, you answered percy. “chill out, water boy. i’m right here. just wanna start this before i lose the idea.”

“what’s the idea?” he sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes and leaning back on his hands. he looked at you with such an intense gaze, eyes focused on the movements of your hands as they guided the brush.

your eyes connected, “the ocean. it’s gonna be for you.”

“you know what would be even lovelier for me? you coming back to bed. miss you.” he flopped back down, gesturing for you to take back your place next to him.

“give me one minute. just to finish the base color.” you continued, covering the final place on the canvas before getting up to rejoin him. he noticed your movements towards him, getting comfortable in the bed once again. you laid back down next to him, head resting on his chest while he traced shapes on you back. “you’re so clingy.”

“mhm. only for you, sunshine.” he closed his eyes as his breathing became even once again. soon after him, you succumbed to the hypnos’ realm.

safe to say, chiron was not happy about you two skipping dinner for the third night in a row.

taglist : @dancingwithourhandsuntied @laufeysvalentine

my masterlist

[novaursa]

A Lion's Folly (to mend)

- Summary: A story where a lion falls for the eldest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark, you.

- Pairing: stark!reader/Jaime Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: the fool

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @butterflygxril @lordofthunderthr

The road was uneven, its stones worn down by years of travel and war. The crisp morning air carried the faint scent of pine, mingled with the dampness of the previous night’s rain. Jaime shifted uncomfortably in his saddle, his body still aching from the fever and the relentless pace of their journey. Roose’s men rode in silence, their gazes darting toward him occasionally, as if wary of his every move.

Qyburn rode just ahead, his gaunt figure hunched slightly as he muttered to himself, likely plotting or scheming. The man unnerved Jaime in ways few could, but he’d become accustomed to his presence by now.

Jaime’s eyes drifted toward the forest lining the road, the dense trees casting shadows that danced in the morning light. It was there, just beyond the edge of the treeline, that he saw it—a flash of pale silver moving silently through the underbrush.

His heart jolted, his hand tightening on the reins as he squinted to get a better look. For a fleeting moment, he was certain it was Winter. The direwolf’s massive frame moved with ghostly grace.

But then it was gone, swallowed by the forest.

“You’re imagining things,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head.

Qyburn glanced over his shoulder, his dark eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Something troubling you, Ser Jaime?”

“Nothing,” Jaime said curtly, his gaze returning to the road ahead. “Just tired.”

Qyburn’s lips curled into a faint smile, but he said nothing, turning his attention back to the path.

Jaime exhaled slowly, forcing himself to focus. She’s with her brother by now, he told himself. Safe, and far from here. The thought should have been reassuring, but it brought him little comfort.

As the hours dragged on, Jaime’s mind began to wander, his thoughts slipping into dangerous territory. The rhythm of the horse’s hooves and the monotonous pace of their journey lulled him into a trance-like state, memories and fantasies blurring together in his fevered mind.

He pictured a different life, one he had never allowed himself to imagine. A life where he wasn’t a Kingsguard, where he wasn’t bound by oaths and duty to protect a mad king—or a selfish queen. A life where Cersei wasn’t the center of his world, her manipulations and ambitions no longer dictating his every move.

The image came unbidden, startling him with its clarity. You, lying beside him in a bed of soft furs, your hair spilling over the pillows like dark rivers. Your gaze was softer than he’d ever seen it, your expression free of the anger and defiance that had become so familiar. There was a warmth in your smile, a quiet intimacy that made his chest ache in ways he couldn’t explain.

The vision startled him so much he nearly pulled his horse to a stop.

“Seven hells,” he muttered under his breath, his hand clenching the reins tightly.

He’d never imagined a life beyond Cersei. Not once. She had been his constant, his anchor, his everything—until now. The thought of someone else—of you—filling that void was as unsettling as it was… intriguing.

But it was impossible. You hated him. Despised him for what he was, for what he had done to your brother. And yet, the image lingered, refusing to fade.

The party came to a halt as Qyburn called for a rest, his sharp voice breaking through Jaime’s spiraling thoughts. The guards dismounted with gruff efficiency, their movements quick and practiced as they began setting up a small camp.

Jaime swung himself off his horse with some difficulty, his body protesting the motion. He moved to the edge of the camp, leaning against a tree as he tried to steady himself.

“You’re unusually quiet, Ser Jaime,” Qyburn said as he approached, his tone deceptively polite.

Jaime shot him a glare. “Don’t get used to it.”

Qyburn’s smile widened slightly, though it lacked warmth. “Perhaps the journey is taking a greater toll than you anticipated. Or perhaps your thoughts are… elsewhere.”

Jaime didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the treeline where he had seen the flash of silver. The weight of his thoughts pressed heavily on his chest, but he refused to let Qyburn see it.

“Rest while you can,” Qyburn said after a moment, his tone turning clinical. “You’ll need your strength for what lies ahead.”

Jaime watched him retreat, his fists clenching at his sides. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Qyburn knew more than he let on, that the man saw through the cracks in his armor.

But it didn’t matter.

What mattered was keeping his focus. What mattered was surviving.

And yet, as Jaime closed his eyes and leaned back against the tree, the image of you refused to leave him. It lingered in the darkness of his thoughts, a tantalizing glimpse of something he knew he could never have.

Jaime Lannister didn’t know what he wanted anymore—or who he was without the chains that bound him.

The quiet of the night was broken by the sound of panicked shouts and the unmistakable growl of a wolf. Jaime’s eyes snapped open, his body tensing instinctively as his surroundings came into focus. The camp was in chaos, the faint glow of the dying fire casting jagged shadows over the scene. Men scrambled for their weapons, their movements frantic as a low, menacing growl echoed through the trees.

Jaime pushed himself up, his heart racing. His gaze darted around the camp, landing on a figure he hadn’t expected to see again.

You stood near the fire, your bow drawn, an arrow notched and aimed directly at the leader of the escort. Your hair was windswept, your expression stern and commanding, illuminated by the flickering firelight. Beside you, Winter stood with bared teeth, his growls deep and guttural, sending shivers through even the bravest of men.

Brienne was a few steps away, her broad frame towering over another guard she had pinned to the ground, her sword pressed against his neck. Her face was set with determination, her usually calm demeanor replaced by a fierceness Jaime hadn’t seen since Harrenhal.

“Stand down!” you barked, your voice cutting through the chaos. The strength in your tone was enough to give even seasoned soldiers pause.

Jaime rose slowly, brushing the dirt off his tunic as he stepped forward, his good hand raised in a gesture of calm. “You have a habit of showing up at the most inconvenient times, Stark,” he said, his tone dry despite the tension.

Your eyes flicked to him briefly, your bow not wavering. “And you have a habit of being where you shouldn’t be, Lannister.”

Before Jaime could retort, the leader of the escort, a grizzled man with a scar running down his cheek, took a cautious step back, his hands raised. “We don’t want trouble,” he said, his voice strained. “We’re just doing our job.”

“You’ll put down your weapons,” you commanded, your arrow still trained on him. “Now.”

The man hesitated, glancing at his comrades, who were clearly unsure whether to fight or flee. Winter growled again, the sound low and threatening, and Jaime could see the fear in the escort’s eyes. Slowly, the leader nodded, motioning for his men to lower their weapons. One by one, swords and axes clattered to the ground.

Brienne eased up slightly, though she didn’t let her guard down. “We’re not here to kill anyone,” she said, her tone firm. “But we won’t hesitate if you give us a reason.”

Jaime stepped closer, his gaze flicking between you and Brienne. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice quieter now, though the edge of curiosity was impossible to miss.

Brienne was the one to answer, her voice steady and calm. “I made a vow to Lady Catelyn,” she said simply, her grip on her sword tightening. “To ensure Lady Sansa and Lady Arya are returned safely to their family.”

Jaime’s brow furrowed. “And you think taking me back with you is going to help with that?”

Brienne’s gaze was unwavering. “You’re the only leverage we have. Tywin Lannister won’t listen to reason, but he will listen to the value of his son.”

Before Jaime could respond, you spoke, your voice cold and sharp. “Are we done with the questions, or do we need another demonstration of what happens when you cross a Stark?”

The leader of the escort glanced nervously between you and Winter, his resolve clearly shaken. “We’ll stand down,” he muttered reluctantly. “Just… call off the wolf.”

You nodded curtly, lowering your bow. “Winter,” you said firmly. The massive wolf growled one last time before retreating to your side, his eyes never leaving the men.

Jaime exhaled, his smirk returning faintly as he crossed his arms. “I must admit,” he said, his tone teasing, “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. You must have missed me.”

Your eyes narrowed, though a flicker of something—amusement, perhaps—crossed your face. “Don’t flatter yourself, Lannister. This isn’t about you.”

Jaime chuckled, the sound low and dry. “Of course not. You’re just here for the greater good.”

Brienne shot him a sharp look, clearly unamused by his tone. “Enough,” she said curtly, motioning toward the now-disarmed escort. “We need to move before anyone changes their mind.”

Jaime nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. Despite your irritation, despite your biting words, there was something about your presence that steadied him in a way he couldn’t explain.

And as the group began to gather their things and prepare for the journey ahead, Jaime found himself smirking again. You were back, and whether you liked it or not, that meant this journey was about to get far more interesting.

The air was crisp in the morning, carrying the earthy scent of moss and damp leaves. The group had been moving steadily since dawn, the animosity between the escorts and your party never fully vanished. Winter padded silently beside you, his blue eyes scanning the surroundings, ever watchful.

Jaime rode in relative silence, his arm throbbing beneath the crude bandages. He didn’t complain—he wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction—but the discomfort gnawed at him. When Qyburn finally called for a halt to tend to Jaime’s wound, Jaime was almost relieved, though he hid it behind a faint smirk.

The group dismounted near a clearing, and Qyburn wasted no time setting up his tools. Jaime sat on a rock, his good hand resting on his knee as Qyburn carefully unwrapped the soiled bandages. The foul odor of infection hit the air, making even Jaime grimace.

“You’ve been lucky,” Qyburn said, his tone clinical as he examined the wound. “The fever has subsided, and the infection hasn’t spread further. My methods are effective, as always.”

“Your bedside manner could use some work,” Jaime muttered dryly.

Qyburn ignored him, reaching into his satchel to retrieve a jar of some foul-smelling paste. As he began to apply it to the wound, you approached, your brow furrowed as you watched with a mix of curiosity and skepticism.

“What exactly are you doing to him?” you asked, your tone terse.

Qyburn glanced up, his expression calm but faintly irritated. “Treating the wound. My concoctions have kept him alive thus far, have they not?”

You crossed your arms, your eyes narrowing. “Who taught you to tend to wounds like that?”

A faint smile curled Qyburn’s lips, and he straightened slightly, as though preparing for a lecture. “The Citadel taught me much, my lady, but my true education came later. The art of healing requires… creativity. Innovation. The willingness to go beyond conventional methods.”

You snorted, cutting him off before he could continue. “It’s all wrong.”

Qyburn’s smile faltered, and he raised an eyebrow. “Wrong? My methods saved his life.”

“Pure luck,” you shot back, your voice cold. “And your methods are abhorrent. You’re not treating him—you’re prolonging his suffering.”

Qyburn’s expression darkened, though his tone remained calm. “If you believe you can do better, my lady, then by all means. Try.”

You stepped closer, your gaze hard. “I will.”

Turning to Jaime, you spoke sharply, “Don’t move. I’ll be back.”

Jaime raised an eyebrow, his smirk faint despite the pain. “I don’t think I’m in any position to run, Stark.”

You ignored his sarcasm, striding purposefully toward the nearby woods. Winter followed at your heels, his silver-white fur shining in the sunlight.

Jaime watched you disappear into the trees, his smirk fading as his mind churned. He wasn’t entirely sure what to make of you.

“She’s determined, I’ll give her that,” Qyburn muttered as he resumed his work, his movements brisk and efficient.

“Determined to prove you wrong,” Jaime said, unable to resist a jab.

Qyburn’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “We’ll see if her stubbornness yields better results than my skill. Though I wouldn’t place any wagers.”

Jaime chuckled softly, though the motion sent a jolt of pain through his arm. “You might want to watch your tongue, Qyburn. She’s not the type to take criticism lightly.”

The conversation faded into silence as Jaime leaned back, his gaze drifting toward the treeline. He found himself wondering what you were searching for, what drove you to challenge Qyburn so fiercely.

And, despite himself, he realized he was looking forward to finding out.

The crunch of footsteps on dried leaves drew Jaime’s attention to the treeline. You emerged from the woods, your arms laden with a bundle of plants and herbs. Winter padded beside you, his blue eyes scanning the surroundings as if daring anyone to challenge you.

“Well, look who’s returned,” Jaime said, his smirk faint but present. “Should I be worried, or are you actually planning to help me?”

You ignored his remark, dropping the bundle of plants onto the flat surface of a nearby rock. Kneeling beside him, you began sorting through the foliage with practiced precision. Your hands moved deftly, separating leaves, roots, and stems, your focus steady and unyielding.

Qyburn watched from a distance, his arms crossed and his expression skeptical. “I hope you realize this is hardly the time for experiments, my lady.”

You shot him a glare that could have frozen a wildfire. “This isn’t an experiment. It’s called proper treatment. Something you clearly know nothing about.”

Jaime chuckled softly, though the motion made his arm throb. “Play nice, Stark. We’re all friends here.”

You turned your glare on him, your brow furrowing. “I’m not your friend, Lannister. Now sit still.”

You dipped a handful of crushed leaves into a bowl of water, mixing them into a thick paste. Kneeling closer, you gently unwrapped the filthy bandages from Jaime’s arm, revealing the raw, inflamed wound beneath. The sight made your jaw tighten, though you said nothing.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Jaime said, his voice laced with dry humor. “A true masterpiece of battlefield medicine.”

“Quiet,” you snapped, your tone sharp. “You’re lucky this hasn’t gone worse. Now, hold still.”

Jaime raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “You’re awfully bossy, Stark.”

You dipped a cloth into the herbal mixture and pressed it against the wound. Jaime flinched instinctively, a hiss escaping his lips.

“Stay still,” you ordered, your eyes narrowing.

“It burns,” Jaime protested, his tone bordering on petulant.

“It’s supposed to burn,” you shot back, your voice firm but not unkind. “That means it’s working. Now stop squirming, or I’ll tie you down.”

Jaime let out a low chuckle, his good hand resting on his knee. “Careful, my lady. Talk like that might give me ideas.”

You glared at him, though the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re surprisingly gentle for someone who hates me,” Jaime replied, his smirk softening slightly.

Your hands faltered for a moment before you resumed your work, carefully applying the paste to the wound. “Don’t mistake necessity for kindness, Lannister. If it weren’t for my sisters, I wouldn’t waste my time on you.”

Jaime tilted his head, his gaze lingering on you as you worked. “You’ve got quite the additude. Remind me to recommend you to the next maester I meet.”

“You’re lucky I don’t leave you to Qyburn,” you muttered, wrapping a fresh bandage around his arm with practiced ease. “Though I doubt even he could make you any worse than you already are.”

As you tied off the bandage, Jaime leaned back slightly, his smirk returning. “I must admit, Stark, you have a certain charm. Like an old washerwoman scolding her lazy husband.”

You shot him a pointed look, your hands moving to clean up the leftover herbs. “If we were married, you wouldn’t last a day.”

Jaime chuckled, the sound low and surprisingly genuine. “You’re probably right. I imagine you’d smother me in my sleep.”

“Tempting,” you replied dryly, though there was a faint glimmer of amusement in your eyes.

The two of you fell into a brief silence, the tension between you replaced by something lighter, almost comfortable. It unnerved Jaime more than he cared to admit.

As you stood and brushed off your hands, you glanced down at him, your expression softening ever so slightly. “Try not to ruin my work,” you said, your tone less biting now.

Jaime met your gaze, his smirk fading into something quieter. “I’ll do my best, my lady.”

You turned away, gathering the remaining herbs and placing them into a pouch. Winter followed you closely, his piercing blue eyes watching Jaime as if to warn him not to push his luck.

Jaime leaned back against the tree, his arm throbbing but the burning pain replaced by a dull ache. He couldn’t help but watch you as you moved, your determination and fire both infuriating and captivating.

And as the group prepared to continue their journey, Jaime found himself wondering—despite himself—what it would take to make you smile.

The golden light of dusk bathed the horizon. In the distance, the towering walls and spires of King’s Landing came into view, the city gleaming faintly against the darkening sky. The Red Keep loomed above it all, a symbol of power and treachery, its sharp edges silhouetted against the setting sun.

Jaime rode at the front of the group, his gaze fixed on the capital. His heart was heavy with a mix of anticipation and unease. King’s Landing had always been a place of contradictions—his home and his prison, his triumphs and his failures. And now, it would become the stage for yet another anxiety filled reunion with his father.

Behind him, you and Brienne rode side by side, Winter padding silently beside your horse. The wolf’s pale silver-and-white fur caught the fading light, its eyes scanning the surroundings with unrelenting vigilance.

Jaime slowed his horse as they neared a small clearing by the road, motioning for the group to stop. “We’ll rest here for the night,” he announced. “The city can wait until morning.”

The group dismounted, the air filled with the sounds of clinking armor and the rustle of saddlebags. Jaime stretched his legs, wincing slightly as his still-healing arm reminded him of its presence.

As the group settled around a small fire, Jaime found himself glancing at you. You sat across from him, your posture stiff, your gaze fixed on the distant lights of King’s Landing. There was something in your expression—curiosity, perhaps, mingled with disdain.

“First time seeing the capital, isn’t it?” Jaime asked, breaking the silence.

You turned to him, your brow furrowing slightly. “It looks… crowded,” you said carefully, though your tone carried a faint edge.

Jaime smirked, leaning back slightly. “Wait until you’re inside. It’s even worse than it looks from here.”

You hesitated, your nose wrinkling as the faint breeze carried the city’s scent to your camp. “It stinks,” you said bluntly, your voice laced with disdain. “Like shit and rot.”

Jaime chuckled, the sound low and genuine. “That’s King’s Landing for you—a city of gold cloaks and gutter rats, power and filth, all packed together. Charming, isn’t it?”

You gave him a pointed look, unimpressed. “If this is your idea of charm, Lannister, I’d hate to see what you consider a dump.”

Jaime grinned, but his expression grew more serious as he leaned forward slightly. “All jokes aside, Stark, you’ll need to stay close to me once we’re inside the walls. The capital doesn’t take kindly to your kind these days.”

Your eyes narrowed, your jaw tightening. “My kind?”

“Starks,” Jaime clarified, his tone calm but firm. “After your brother raised his banners and what your father did, the name Stark became synonymous with rebellion in King’s Landing. The wrong word to the wrong person, and…” He trailed off, his meaning clear.

Before you could respond, Brienne spoke, her voice steady and resolute. “Nothing will happen to her,” she said, her gaze fixed on Jaime. “I won’t allow it.”

Jaime raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning faintly. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, Brienne. But this isn’t Tarth. The capital plays by its own rules.”

“I don’t care about their rules,” Brienne replied sharply, her tone brooking no argument. “I made a vow to Lady Catelyn. I’ll keep all her daughters safe.”

You glanced at Brienne, your expression softening slightly, though your shoulders remained stiff. “I can take care of myself,” you muttered, though the defiance in your voice was weaker than usual.

Jaime tilted his head, studying you with an unreadable expression. “Maybe,” he said after a moment. “But even the strongest need allies in a place like King’s Landing.”

The fire crackled between you, the weight of his words hanging in the air. You didn’t respond, your gaze drifting back to the distant lights of the city.

As the camp quieted, Jaime found himself watching you. There was something about the way you carried yourself—stubborn, unyielding, and yet undeniably vulnerable. It was infuriating, the way you seemed to occupy his thoughts without permission.

He shook his head, leaning back against a log as he stared at the fire. The capital awaited them, with all its dangers and schemes. Whatever happened next, he couldn’t deny the flicker of unease that stirred in his chest at the thought of you walking into the lion’s den.

“Stay close,” he muttered to himself, echoing his own words.

And for once, Jaime Lannister meant them.

The night was still, the faint crackle of the dying fire the only sound breaking the silence. The chill of the air seeped into Jaime’s bones, but he didn’t move. He sat leaning against a log, his good hand resting on his knee, his gaze fixed on the stars above. Sleep refused to come, as it often did, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

His arm, or what was left of it, throbbed faintly, though it was no longer the searing pain that had once consumed him. Whatever concoction you had applied seemed to be working, much to his reluctant admiration. The bandages were clean and snug, the herbal paste cooling and soothing the wound. He couldn’t deny that you had saved him from far worse.

He glanced toward the others, all of whom were asleep now. Even Qyburn, who always seemed to hover on the edge of wakefulness, had succumbed to exhaustion, his wiry frame slumped against a tree. Brienne had been the last to fall asleep, her large form curled awkwardly on the ground, her sword resting within arm’s reach.

You lay near the fire, your breathing steady, your face peaceful in sleep. Winter was curled up beside you, his massive body a barrier between you and the rest of the world. The direwolf’s blue eyes opened every so often, fixing on Jaime whenever his gaze lingered too long.

Jaime smirked faintly, though the expression lacked its usual edge. “Protective, aren’t you?” he murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Winter’s gaze didn’t waver, his head resting on your shoulder, his presence a silent warning. Jaime let out a low sigh, leaning back against the log as his thoughts began to swirl.

The city wasn’t far now—its distant lights had been a constant reminder all evening. King’s Landing, the heart of power, corruption, and intrigue. Jaime’s chest tightened at the thought of returning. He had left as the golden lion, a knight of the Kingsguard, proud and unbroken. Now, he was a shadow of that man, his honor tarnished and his body maimed.

He thought of his father, the ever-looming presence of Tywin Lannister. What would the great Lord of Casterly Rock say when he saw Jaime like this? Would there be anger, disappointment, or, worse, indifference? Jaime couldn’t decide which he dreaded more.

And then there was Cersei.

Cersei, who had always demanded perfection, who had looked at him with such fierce pride. What would she see now? Would she still see the man she had once whispered to in the dark, or would she see only the failure—the Kingslayer who had been humbled?

Jaime’s smirk faltered as his thoughts turned to Tyrion. The Imp had always been quick with his wit, but there was a sharpness beneath it, a keen understanding of the world. Tyrion wouldn’t mock him—not for this—but Jaime wasn’t sure he could stomach the pity he might see in his brother’s eyes.

His gaze drifted back to where you lay, your face serene despite the turmoil surrounding you. You were fierce, unyielding, and maddening in every way. Yet, he found himself thinking of you more than he should—more than was safe.

The capital would not be kind to you. The Starks were seen as traitors now, rebels who had dared to defy the crown. You would be a pawn at best, a threat at worst.

What will they do to her?

The thought gnawed at him, his chest tightening as he considered the possibilities. He had seen what King’s Landing did to those who weren’t prepared for its games, and he knew the danger that awaited you there.

How do I protect her?

The question lingered, unanswered, as Jaime stared into the dying fire. He had no power left, no leverage. And yet, the thought of you being used, hurt, or broken by the city’s machinations filled him with a rage he hadn’t felt in years.

Winter’s eyes flicked open again, locking onto Jaime with an intensity that made him smirk despite himself. “Don’t worry,” Jaime murmured, his voice quiet. “I’m not foolish enough to cross you. She’s in good hands.”

The wolf huffed softly, his head settling back on your shoulder as his eyes closed once more.

Jaime leaned his head back, the weight of his thoughts pressing heavily on him. The city awaited, with all its dangers and promises, and Jaime knew the path ahead would be treacherous.

But as his gaze drifted back to you, he felt the faintest flicker of resolve. Whatever it took, he would find a way to protect you. Even if it meant standing against the city he once called home.

[totallyanopossum]

Call of duty

Ghost babysits

WC: 3.1k

Link to story master list

Warning: mentions of past abuse, violence and rape

Part 1, please stay

- knock knock knock-

Price answers the door, Ghosts right on time to babysit his niece.

G- “Captain”

P- “ right on time, come in”

Ghost wasn't given details other than ‘come over and babysit for 2 days’ but who was he to refuse orders from his captain. He can surely keep a child alive for 2 days.

But when he sees a grown up looking girl come around the corner he's confused. Is this who he's babysitting or does Price have a very young bird? When Price pats the girl's shoulder and walks it confirms this is who he's watching, only giving him more questions.

Y/N-“ so your Ghost?”

G- “ yea”

They just stand awkwardly in the entrance hall. Ghost is very confused, questions running through his mind, and she's just embarrassed.

G- “ Aren't you a bit old to need a babysitter”

Y/N-“ he didn't tell you why you're really here?”

G- “ wasn't given details”

Y/N-“ means he doesn't want you to know, of course he's ashamed”

She shakes her head and walks off to the living room, this feels riddance she hasn't had a babysitter since she was 10. She sits on the couch and unpauses the movie she was watching.

Ghost is intrigued, of course Captain wouldn't tell him the full story, Ghost loves to unravel a mystery. These next 2 days have just gotten a lot more interesting, now he's got a time table to solve this mastery.

He follows after her and sits on the couch,he looks to see what's playing hoping it's not some annoying drivel, and pleasantly surprised to find it's the star wars a new hope playing.

Y/N-“ what kinda pizza do you like?”

G- “ what?”

Y/N-“ im ordering pizza what do you want”

G- “ meat lovers pizza large”

He watches her tap away on her phone ordering their dinner, he walked in here worrying how to make a kid eat its vegetables but now she's the one ordering the food. All expectations have gone out the window.

They enjoy their pizza and star wars in comfortable silence. He's a big guy who eats a lot but she matched him slice for slice putting away more pizza then her little body should have been capable of, he found that quite captivating. Most birds he's seen won't eat more than a few bites in front of lads, he's always found that a tab annoying, sustenance is important.

Afterwards she sticks her hand between the couch cushions pulling something and the couch section she's on reclines and a foot rest pops out. He wonders if his section does that too. So he copies her actions and reaches between the cushion to his left but finds nothing. While he's turned to investigate he feels his seat move and looks to find she's reclined his seat for him, the pull was on the other side. She's got a playful smirk, looks like she found this amusing, he makes a mental note to be cautious she might be a prankster.

He feels like it's a good time to ask a question now, she is fed, amused, relaxed and enjoying star wars.

G- “ what details didn't Price give me, what's he ashamed of?”

Y/N-“ you don't think it goes against some order to learn what he didn't want you to know?”

G- “ he picked me for this job knowing I can't leave a puzzle unsolved, so no”

Y/N-“ fine, i probably can't lie well enough to get something past you anyways… I was in rehab, got out almost a month ago and Price won't leave me alone for more than a few hours”

G- “ should i be watching, stopping you from doing something?”

Y/N-“ no the house is clean”

He doesn't ask more, he has a feeling that just because she's being open doesn't mean she likes revealing all this to him. Like she said she can't get a lie past him, he's too well trained for that to work. Learning this about her doesn't change the view of the endearing little bird, he knows what it's like to want to turn to something to take away the pain but she's still here, means she's strong.

When the movie finished she gets up and hands him the remote.

Y/N-“ im heading up, night”

G- “ Night”

He noticed the slight change in her demeanor after he had questioned her, after she had come out with the truth. Admitting to rehab isn't something one can do lightly, it probably weighs heavy on her. Maybe Price didn't tell him the details for her sake and not because of his own ashamed feelings.

Ghost heads to the bathroom before going to bed, but while passing by her room he sees the light sweeping out from under her door. He steps closer and hears faint crying, dealing with a crying child was something he had prepared for but he doubts giving her a lollypop will solve anything, but he knows he shouldn't leave her like this, not without at least checking in, so he knocks.

G- “ y/n can I come in”

Y/N-“ yes”

He steps into her room with unsure footing, not sure how to help or soothe her, and it's a hit to his heart as she tries to give me a smile, trying to cover up her sadness. He goes over and sits on the edge of the bed, making the corner dip beneath him.

G- “ did my question upset you?”

Y/N-“ No, no it's not that”

G- “ did someone else bother you?”

Y/N-“ well i guess thats kinda the root of the crying but it happened a while ago, it's fine”

Okay he's checked in, there is no current problem for him to beat up, he's officially checked in and done his due diligence. As he gets up the bed lets out an awkward creak that he tries to ignore as he heads to the door.

Y/N-“ Wait, i… i don't want to be alone, please”

The way she's looking up at him with glassy, pleading eyes, the desperation in her voice, the way it cracked as she called out to him, he can't say no to her.

G- “ okay”

She moves over making space for him in bed, pulls the blanket aside, and pats the open space.

He knows getting into bed with Price's niece isn't something his Captain would approve of but he really can't say no to this little bird's pleas. So he gets in bed, leaving as big a gap between them as the small bed would allow, but the bed dips beneath him causing her to tip and lean towards him. She steady and repositions herself still leaving a gap.

She puts on the empire strikes back, continuing their star wars marathon. Her crying has slowed to slow silent tears that she wipes away on her hoodie sleeve.

He looks at her, the small bird next to him, so close yet also forbidden, not to mention far too young. He wants to know more about her, rehab is just one piece of her story he wants to know the rest, wants to see more of her playful side. Then he notices something alarming,a jagged scar bordering her clavicle and neck.

G- “ that scar, how did you get it?”

Y/N-“ which one?”

He angles his body to face her, reaches out and so lightly, he's barely touching her, he traces the scar, trying to ignore how smooth and soft her skin is against his calloused fingers.

Y/N-“ oh that one… broken bottle”

He knew by the scars jagged shape it was made by something unorthodox but to have it confirmed brings on a rush of protective possessiveness unfitting of how short he's known her.

G- “ caused by the same person you're crying over?”

Y/N-“ yes”

Her voice was so meek and hushed as if she was ashamed of the answer. He really doesn't want to push her and cause more crying but these questions must have answers, he's now concerned for her safety. But he'll try his best not to come off too abrasive.

G- “ what's your story, rehab is only a piece what's the rest?”

Y/N-“ oh your don't wanna hear all that shit”

G- “ yes I do”

Y/N-“ okay then… Well dont need to get into the childhood details blah blah blah it was shitty enough to leave me with a few diagnoses. The main one fucking up my life is bpd”

She gives him the rundown explaining how bpd effects her, makes every aspect of life harder, emotions are a roller-coaster from euphoric to suicidal sometimes all in a few hours,splits, how she connects to people differently and forms bonds that a bit obsessive. How her favorite person's emotions and actions dictate her feelings and how even if they hurt her as long as she gets some tiny bit of affection she'll stay.

Y/N-“ so I ended up in an abusive release, he was good at first, good just long enough to get me attached, as it went downhill and violent i stayed grasping and cherishing every scrap of kindness tossed my way. Even when I finally wanted to leave I was too scared to, but eventually he left me, but even though he hurt me so much, losing the person I was attached to led me to a downward spiral that resulted in a reckless use of drugs and psychotic break landing me in rehab for a few months and now I'm here.”

He's not eloquent enough to have the proper words to say in these moments so he puts an arm around her and pulls her into him giving her a hug. She's rigid at first then welcomes his embrace, and turns to hug him fully trying to wrap her arms around him but their size difference makes that a challenge. He finds that rather cute the way she can only reach so far, he knows he shouldn't be thinking of her as cute, or as a little bird, he's crossing lines but he doubts she's gonna tell Price about this.

He just holds her, rubs her back and lets her cry into his chest. He's content to let her cry into him, he can't offer words but he can do this.

She leans back, finally getting her face out of his chest and looks up to him. She tilts her head as she tries to study him, looking for any expression or discernable reaction to what he's learned about her, learning that she's broken.

G- “ just ask”

Y/N-“ im broken, mind fucked but your being kind, I can't read you, why aren't you repulsed by me”

G- “ your story tells me your strong y/n, why would I be repulsed? I've had my share of mindfuck too.”

Y/N-“ my mind is so warped, the mean things he said and did I can't tell what's the truth or if I'm really at fault”

G- “ then tell me, I'll tell you what's true, like your neck tell me about that one ill clear it up”

She goes rigid and pulls away from him slightly. Having her uncle's lieutenant in her bed holding her has probably already crossed an unspoken line but talking about sex with him is probably jumping over that line.

G- “ you're scared to share?, don't worry, my training makes me really good at keeping secrets.”

Y/N-“ it's not that, well kinda but, just not sure I should be talking to my uncle's subordinate about sex”

G- “ ill take your secrets to the grave he'll never know, and It's only awkward if you make it”

Y/N-“ okay, well my neck. He came home drunk, shoved me to the bed and stripped me, and he was too drunk, couldn't get very hard and that upset him but he blamed it on me, that I wasn't wet enough, and said a bunch of things dissing my pussy. Then when I tried to get up he got the bottle broke it on the bed post and and pressed it to my neck”

She can't make eye contact with him, just tucks her face against his side and picks at the skin around her fingers. Admitting her past story was one thing but going into detail like this was a whole new level of openness that scares her. And feeling him go rigid sends ice through her veins, she's frozen with dread.

G- “ where's he live?”

Y/N-“ a few states away, why you gonna beat someone up for me?”

G- “ you say the word”

Y/N-“ he's not worth it, even if that'd be satisfying”

His body relaxes again and hers responds to him and she relaxes back into his hold, pressed against his side, large muscular arm wrapped around her, holding her close.

G- “ None of that was your fault little bird, I'm not unfamiliar with having too much drink and not being able to get it up but a real man takes responsibility for that and a real man knows warm up and foreplay is important, gotta warm your women up first makes everything go smoother.”

Y/N-“ and umm are you a real man?”

She is a bit embarrassed that his words are affecting her, making her blush slightly but this is too unique and tempting of a situation to pass up.

G- “ yes I am”

Oh crap she shouldn't have asked, she didn't need that confirmation, confirmation that's making her feel something she really shouldn't feel for her uncle's lieutenant, not to mention their age gap. But she can't deny the way her body is reacting to him, wanting him.

G- “ remember what I said about embarrassed, no need it's alright”

Y/N-“ it's really okay to talk about sex with you?”

G- “ yes”

Y/N-“ idk if i like sex, I've had partners who did the foreplay and warm up stuff but it just felt like something to endure and act through, makes me wonder if I need to try sex with women instead or maybe it's just not for me”

G- “ Do you enjoy yourself when you masturbate?”

Y/N-“ yes”

G- “ then your not the issue it's your partner, just cause they do warm up doesn't mean they know what their doing, it takes skill and the ability to listen”

Y/N-“ yeah those are hard qualities to find especially together"

He chuckles at her remark, he's glad she's opening up and being playful, he's getting to know, understand, and learn more about her, even if it's in an unorthodox way.

Y/N-“ i have a question now”

G- “ shoot”

Y/N-“ so when you're on deployment, with little privacy how do you do it, In the shower, descreet, or like for alone time?”

G- “ everyone's got their own way, personally I've gotten very good at being discreet, sometimes have to bite on something to stay quiet though”

She's been so open and vulnerable with him it's only fair he does the same, plus this is fun, even if he's getting very personal with a girl he's only met today, a girl he's been charged with caring for. A girl he shouldn't be getting attached to but is.

Y/N-“ so your vocal during..”

G- “ yes, are you?”

Y/N-“ bit on the quiet side but I'm not discreet, which has made it hard when he won't leave me alone for long”

G- “ tomorrow I'll spend some time in the garden give you some alone time”

Y/N-“ Really!?”

G- “ of course”

Her excitement at the proposition of some alone time is cute, and also sends some rather impure thoughts through his mind but he shoos those away. Even though the knowledge that tomorrow he'll be standing outside while she's here, in the very bed he's sitting in pleasuring herself, makes his blood pressure rise.

Y/N-“ I've never talked like this with someone before”

G- “ do you enjoy it”

Y/N-“ yes, it's nice to be open and not afraid”

She scooches down getting into a more reclined position as she snuggles against him and turns to watch the movie. She no longer feels like crying, isn't all conflicted and confused, she feels secure, stable and calm with Ghost.

Y/N-“ am I allowed to know your name or do I just call you Ghost”

G- “ you can call me Simon, but only in private okay Lil Bird”

Y/N-“ okay Simon”

Y/N-“ you like star wars right, I'm not making you sit through something you hate right?”

G- “ I like star wars”

Y/N-“ good”

She knows she shouldn't get more cuddly with him, anything more would be too intimate, but they have already talked about sex so what's more intimate than that. The lines have gotten all crossed and confusing so she ignores them and goes with her impulse. She sits up and tugs on his shirt.

Y/N-“ scooch, lay down, please”

He can't say no to her, and not when she asks nicely. So he lays reclines and lays down in her bed and looks to see what her next move is.

He's dazed and in awe as she now lays on him, her head resting on his abdomen, her left hand grabbing onto his shirt, her left leg pulled up resting on his thighs. He wants to grab her thigh digging his fingers into her thickness and pull her onto him more. For a split second he imagines what she'd look like seated on top of him.

She nuzzles her head against him, enjoying his scent, she's never felt so safe cuddled up to someone before, which is odd cause she knows what kinda work he does, he's killed before yet she feels safe. She whispers into his shirt, ‘ thank you’.

Simon's hearing is very sharp and he hears her whispered words. He doesn't reply, well not verbally, he places a hand on the small of her back and presses lightly holding her to him.

Y/N-“ will you stay?”

G- “ whatever you want”

Y/N-“can you sleep in this position?”

G- “ umm needs a little adjusting”

She lifts her head and is about to get off him to let him move but he stops her.

G- “ stay”

He gives in and takes this opportunity to grab her, feel how plush and soft she is. With one hand wrapped around her back and the other grabs onto her thigh, letting his finger dig in surprised by just how much they sink into her supple thick thighs. Once he's got a secure hold on her he moves down, fully reclining while keeping her on him, he even adjusts her, bringing her to rest more fully on him so their bodies flush together. He feels the heat coming from between her legs pressed flush against his thigh and has to internally chastise himself, he really can't get a boner right now.

Y/N-“ good night Simon”

G- “ good night Lil bird”

[revelboo]

I’ve commented once i believe on your account (unless I’m just forgetting I honestly have no idea or not) about Roddy and his stupid arm joints (in which I’m still mad about) but you’ve inspired me to finish sentinel prime! You’ve also inspired me more into model kits! Anyways love your stories, you have been feeding my “wanting to be cradled by giant robots” mindset. Anyways I’m not the best with the “ask me anything” ask box (letter box?) hope ur day is or has gone well! 

He looks awesome! Even if he’s just awful

The comments y’all left on the last chapter are killing me 🤣

Everything Is Alright Pt 111

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• “Here,” he growls, finding a cleaning cloth and draping it over you in addition to the blanket you already were curled in. Normally he’d take some satisfaction in the fact that it scents of him and it’s going to make Starscream furious, but it’s hard to find any pleasure right now. You’re still leaking and making little hitching, sniffling sounds and he doesn’t know what to do about it. How does your idiot mate normally comfort you? Watching you huddle into the blankets, he awkwardly reaches out to pat the top of your head. “Bonds can be reestablished and full bonds can’t be severed,” he says, hinting. Because Soundwave cares for you enough to try to bond you, but you hadn’t accepted him fully. Wants to ask about that, but resists when you turn those teary eyes on him.

• Watching Megatron reach and carefully pinch a packet of food between two servos to offer you, he vents when you take it even though you have no appetite. “I just hate that they don’t talk to me. They just decide everything for me like it doesn’t matter what I want,” you mutter, shoulders hunching as he sits on the berth beside you, massive and not as intimidating as he’d first been. Maybe your self preservation instincts have given up at this point, but seeing him so uncomfortable by your tears has killed any lingering fear you’d had of him. “Like I don’t really matter.” Beyond a warm body in their berths and you hate that thought even as you have it, because it’s unfair. You know they care about you, they’re just, well-

• “They’re both idiots.” Swallowing a growl, he awkwardly reaches and cups his palm against your back when you look up at him. Starscream’s behavior doesn’t really surprise him, but he’d thought Soundwave would have been more levelheaded. He’s the calmest mech he knows, but then what does he know about bonded mechs? Using a servo to nudge your hands and the packet you’re still holding, he frowns until you obediently tear it open and pick at the food. “Eat something,” he prompts, rumbling when you take a tiny bite.

• Snarling when someone seizes him from behind and hauls him off his peds, Soundwave glares up at Bonecrusher. Struggling against those big hands as Scrapper and Hook haul up Starscream. The other three Constructicons clearly annoyed and ready to help. Servos shaking he’s so furious, he glares at the bleeding Seeker. Can taste energon where he’d bitten himself at some point, every ache and pain making itself known without the blind rage keeping him going. Optics narrowing behind his visor when the Seeker struggles free. “Stop wrecking scrap we’ll have to fix,” Scrapper growls, sweeping a hand at the damage they’d done. “Take it outside.”

• One of his wings is hanging at an angle, burning like fire as he scowls at Soundwave. Had never seen the stoic mech so angry before. “Keep your servos off my mate,” he snarls, aware of the optics on him. That he just publicly admitted what you are to him, laying claim to you. Because you are his, you’re everything to him. Striding past Soundwave, or trying to, as the communications officer shoves him back against the wall.

• “My mate,” Soundwave growls, leaning into the Seeker’s face before shoving away when the Constructicons move as if to separate them again. Striding toward Starscream’s quarters and finding you missing. “Where?” He snarls, rounding on the nearest bystander. Long Haul shrugging at him before Vortex gleefully calls out ‘Megatron took your human.’ Venting, he heads for Megatron’s habsuite, aware of Starscream limping after him.

• Cringing deeper into your blankets when someone knocks on Megatron’s door, you turn wide eyes his way. Because you’re not at all ready to deal with an angry Soundwave or Starscream’s betrayal. Head tipping as he stares down at you, his smile is absolutely wicked and shockingly real. “I could send them away for a bit,” he says and it’s almost enough to make you start crying all over again. Feeling bad even as you whisper a tiny ‘please.’ Needing time to think, to untangle all the hurt and confusion.

Previous

[sirhamburrger]

come over again? (choso x reader drabble) -> link to original ask courtesy of kai’s cat café! - 150 followers event

café menu || order progress asks closed.

yuji’s just gone to bed, and you sit on the sofa in the living room, staring blankly into space. it’s the third time this week you’ve been over to choso’s place to play video games with his kid brother, and it’s only wednesday. 

his invitations are always cordial. yuji wants to play rocket league with you again, will you come? and yuji’s been asking if you’re free tomorrow because he doesn’t want to play this new horror game alone. 

they’re cordial, and they’re always about yuji. never about himself. 

which is why you’ve resorted to staying delusional over the smoking hot vice-captain of your uni’s baseball team, staring at him from the other side of the lecture hall as professor ieiri rambles on about the latest biochemistry topics, and cheering for him at his games.

sad, really, but it's as close to him as you'll ever get.

you see the inky-black space buns before the rest of him as he emerges from under the table in the kitchen, fork in hand. your eyes meet, and he gives you a small smile, awkward. 

“dropped my fork,” he says lamely, as if you don’t already know.

you smile back, wrapping your arms around yourself. his gaze follows your actions, and you see a shift in his expression.

“should i walk you home?”

you frown. (he’s never volunteered to do this before.) “will yuji be okay by himself?”

“sukuna’s coming back in ten minutes, so-” sukuna being the brothers’ intimidating uncle, who you know will take good care of yuji- “it’s no big deal, really.”

and so you find yourself walking side by side with choso down the quiet, lamp-lit streets. the cool night air nips at your cheeks, but his presence beside you keeps you warm, even as your heart pounds louder with every step.

he doesn’t say much at first. he’s always been more comfortable in silence, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his baseball team hoodie, his gaze flickering from the ground to the occasional passing car. 

but tonight, there’s something different about the way he carries himself - tense, like he’s bracing for something. finally, he clears his throat, breaking the stillness. 

“you come by a lot.”  

your heart skips, unsure where this is going. you glance up at him, but his gaze is fixed straight ahead, avoiding yours. 

“i mean, yuji likes having you over. and i -” he stops, faltering, and you see his shoulders stiffen. “i like having you over too.”  

the words feel heavy in the air, tentative and raw. you can’t help the small, surprised laugh that escapes you, not out of mockery but relief. 

“i like coming over,” you admit softly. “it’s nice, being there with yuji. and you.”  

choso nods, still avoiding your gaze. “good. that’s… good.”  

but then he stops walking altogether, and you nearly stumble before turning to face him. he looks down at you, the faint light of a streetlamp casting shadows over his sharp features. his hands are trembling slightly, and he pulls them from his pockets, clenching them into loose fists.  

“i’ve been trying to say this for a while,” he mutters, his voice barely audible. “i’m not good at this. but… i want you to know that i don’t ask you over just because yuji makes me.”  

your breath catches. 

“choso-”  

“i ask you to come over because i want to see you,” he blurts, his words tumbling out in a rush now, like he’s afraid he’ll lose the courage to say them if he stops. “i want to spend time with you. and i know i’m not - gosh, i’m really not good at this stuff, but i -”

he takes a shaky breath.

“i like you. a lot. more than i probably should.”  

the silence stretches between you, fragile and charged. his dark eyes finally meet yours, and you can see the vulnerability etched into his expression.  

for a moment, all you can do is stare at him, your chest tightening with the weight of his words. then, slowly, you reach out, your fingers brushing against his. his hand stiffens beneath your touch, but he doesn’t pull away.  

“i like you too,” you whisper, your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. “more than i probably should.”  

his eyes widen, and for a heartbeat, he looks like he doesn’t quite believe you. but then his lips twitch into a small smile, and you see the tension in his shoulders ease.  

“really?” he murmurs, almost disbelieving.  

“really,” you confirm, squeezing his hand gently.  

and for the first time since you’ve met him, choso lets out a soft, breathy laugh - relieved, and maybe a little amazed. the sound makes your heart soar. more than the pure joy on his face after he wins a game, or the way his tongue pokes out of his mouth as he takes notes in class.

“i guess,” he says almost bashfully, his fingers curling around yours, “i don’t have to ask yuji to be my excuse anymore.”

end(?)

bonus:

“so yuji doesn’t actually think i’m a master at gta??” “no, no, he does! i swear, he did genuinely want you to come over at the beginning-“

end.

© sirhamburrger || [general m.list]

[darlinluxx]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 | 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐀𝐄 𝐁𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐊 ౨ৎ

pairing : saebyeok x fem!reader

fluff, angst

warnings : angst

summary : after days of your girlfriend missing, she finally comes back home to you

a/n : in this saebyeok won the games bc she deserved to

if you have any requests, feel free to message me <3

𝐓he mug warmed your hands, a familiar comfort on a cold, quiet morning. you stirred your tea, watching the steam curl and disappear like a forgotten dream. your eyes drifted to the empty space beside you on the couch, a phantom limb ache settling in your chest. Saebyeok had been gone for… how long now? two weeks? three? you’d lost count, the days blurring into an indistinguishable watercolor of worry and unanswered calls.

she’d left without a word. she was beside you in the bed when you went to sleep, and when you woke up, she was gone. no explanation for the sudden departure, the unnerving silence that followed. you’d tried calling her, texting her. nothing. just the dull hum of dial tones and the mocking silence of an empty inbox.

you’d gone to her brother, Cheol, but he seemed just as confused, his brow perpetually furrowed with concern. he’d even suggested you try to contact that broker she sometimes spoke of, and the thought of that alone had sent shivers down your spine. you didn’t want to think about… well, anything that might involve that side of her life.

you jumped slightly when the key rattled in the lock. your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the quiet morning. you haven’t even heard anyone at the door. you stood, the mug clattering onto the coffee table as you did, your eyes fixed on the door.

and then, she was there.

Saebyeok stood in the doorway, her silhouette framed against the pale light of the hallway. you noticed immediately how different she looked. and there was a haunting look in her eyes that you’d never seen before. but it was her — undeniably, miraculously her.

before you could even speak, she crossed the room, closing the distance between you in three long strides. her hands cupped your face, her touch gentle and firm, like she was afraid you might disappear if she held you too lightly. your breath hitched as your tears began to well up.

“you’re back.” you managed finally, voice thick with unshed tears. it was all you could think to say. a stupid, obvious statement, but it was all your brain could muster.

a ghost of a smile touched her lips, the first genuine one you’d seen in what felt like an eternity. “i’m back.” she echoed, her voice a low rumble that vibrated through your bones.

you reached up, your own hands covering hers. they were cold, rough, different. you noticed a new, faint scar on the back of her hand and a knot of anxiety tightened in your stomach. where had she been? what had she been doing?

“where were you, Saebyeok?” this time, the question was a plea for answers, a desperate need to fill the void of uncertainty that had been gnawing at you.

she hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting to the floor as if searching for the right words. she moved her hands from your face to your shoulders, pulling you closer.

“i had to go,” she said, her voice low. “i can’t really explain it right now. but i’m here now, that’s what matters.”

you wanted to demand answers, to rage at the pain and worry she had put you through. but looking into her tired, haunting eyes, you couldn’t. something had changed in her, something deep and profound that you didn’t understand.

you wrapped your arms around her, burying your face in her shoulder. she smelled faintly of antiseptic and something else, something you couldn’t quite identify. it wasn’t a pleasant smell, but it was her and that was enough.

“don’t ever do that again,” you whispered, your voice muffled against her jacket. “please.”

she held you tighter, her chin resting on your head. “i won’t,” she promised, the words barely audible.

you knew, deep down, that she was still keeping secrets. that the answers you yearned for remained locked away in some dark corner of her mind. but for now, you clung to her, to her warmth and her presence and the fragile promise of her return, hoping that one day she would finally tell you everything. for now, it was enough that she was here, safe, and with you. the unspoken questions would still be there, waiting. waiting for the time when she felt she could finally share the weight of what she had endured. but until then, you would simply be there, in her arms, loving her, and welcoming back your love who had returned, somehow changed, from somewhere you didn’t understand.

[mortem-writes]

A Widow's Bite | Simon Riley x Black Widow!Reader

Fic Masterlist- First fic kind of? Just wanted a copy of this fic on Tumblr too - Other parts

❋ Read this on Ao3 ❋ Main tags: Innocent reader is accused of being a traitor trope, torture and interrogation, AFAB reader, questionably platonic bed sharing, strangers to lovers, sloooow burn, eventual smut, angst/hurt/comfort, kidfic Word count: 1.8k

>> BUDAPEST-KELETI STATION, HUNGARY

>> November 3rd, 2019

Barkov is dead, and you are running for your life.

The city is busy despite the cold weather, and the awareness that time is running out sits heavy on the edges of your mind.

You surge through the throngs of people, and finally you enter the train station with a sense of trepidation pounding through your veins, but there are no yells, no bullets, only the sound of people bustling about the platform and the rare warmth of a pale winter sun peeking through the high windows. Your heart is throwing itself against your ribcage, and sweat beads under your collar.

Time seems to slow with every passing second as you wait in line at the ticket office. You can feel your watch leisurely tick against the rabbit-quick pulse at your wrist. You count the seconds. Feel the space between each tick stretch and unspool. You tap your feet to expel the pent-up energy, and you can feel the slim knife you slid into your boot earlier that day shift over your ankle joint with every mindless movement.

Unable to stop throwing furtive glances over your shoulder, you hand over one of your passports to buy a ticket when it is your turn, and then pick at your fingernails absentmindedly. You can't stop your eyes from darting about and scanning the crowd. There's tension stitched into every fibre and every layer of muscle in your body as you expect a hand to clamp down on your wrist or a gunshot to punch through the air or something to happen at any second, but then the ticket officer hands over to you both your passport and your literal ticket to freedom with a tepid smile. You relax— slightly.

You step onto a train heading for Warsaw with nothing but five passports, five identities, and a handgun stashed in your satchel with a bundle of cash.

The train pulls out of the station, gathering speed and, within a handful of minutes, Budapest falls behind with your past entombed within the old city walls.

>> GEORGE BUSH CENTER FOR INTELLIGENCE

>> VIRGINIA, UNITED STATES

>> November 5th, 2019

Barkov is dead, but his legacy is not.

At least not yet.

Despite being determined to rectify that, Laswell feels that either her skull is going to implode into a migraine or her eyes will be rendered useless if she spends any longer staring at beaming bright computer screens, and squinting at various complicated maps littered with minute scribbles and equally minute symbols.

Following the news of Barkov's death, his forces had scattered and his followers all across Russia and Urzikstan had been sent into a frenzy without a leader to guide them. The mayhem has spiralled out of control, and Barkov's bases and facilities are cropping up on the map in the dozens every time a new intelligence report lands on Laswell's desk.

The interns had long since gone home, and the clock above the door implores her to retire for the day. Laswell knows that option is probably what's healthy, but she's nothing if not obsessive at heart and a workaholic, especially when all the current leads on this case look like a massive ball of knotted yarn just waiting to be untangled.

The maps, the profiles, the photographs, the mountains of scattered files, and the wall of flickering screens— all of it— a puzzle, ready to be solved.

The job will get done, and with what the leads spiralling from Barkov look like, it needs to get done as soon as possible. As the clock steadily ticks away, and time drags Laswell into the early hours of the morning, she discovers that Barkov's secrets have secrets.

The leads spiral all across the map. France. Austria. Belarus. Poland. Siberia.

Internment camps. Massacres. Bombing civilian blocks. Trafficking weapons. Trafficking people.

The secrets unravel, the war crimes are stacking on top of each other, and the migraine sets in. She follows a lead that seizes her attention and puts a ball of dread in her stomach but seemingly leads to a dead end.

She reads for hours about young girls, often left orphaned from Barkov's killings, taken from orphanages in Urzikstan in droves and mysteriously disappearing from the face of the Earth. Laswell sits back after a few dedicated hours of digging as far as she can into the missing children. She sits and lets her mind sweep over the facts, letting her thoughts rove over the massive void of information in the middle of the story like a tongue feeling around the bloodied gums where a tooth had been. She wonders what has happened to these girls, somehow feeling that the answer to their disappearances may fill the pothole in their intelligence.

Laswell thinks of her young niece, about how her niece is now the same age as these girls when they went missing, and decides that she will find these girls at any cost, or at least make sure their story is known and whole. All the facts or none.

Sighing, Laswell pinches the bridge of her nose, lost in thought, just as the sun peeks over the DC skyline and dyes the sky in hues of purple and orange. She pulls a pack of migraine relief pills from her desk and swallows a handful of them down with a mouthful of cold coffee.

Then, just as the coffee settles unpleasantly on her empty stomach, the thought hits her as swift as lightning.

Belarus.

A money trail showed that Barkov's forces had frequently transported cargo to and from the country. She'd brushed the information off earlier, assuming they were solely transporting weapons and deeming it irrelevant to the missing girls. Now, however...

When Laswell had just begun her career in intelligence, she'd heard whispers of a covert facility buried somewhere in the snowy eastern European countryside in mission reports, and knew that half of the intelligence community believed it to be nothing more than a ghost story meant to intrigue the recruits. She knew that those who believed in its existence were convinced the KGB— now FSB— operated it long before and long after the USSR crumbled and Belarus gained independence.

Finding the base will be difficult, it had eluded the CIA for the better part of a century after all, but Barkov's death has condemned his empire to a slow death by a thousand cuts. Eventually, someone will slip up and give away the base, and the 141 will be there to wipe away the footprints of Barkov's legacy. 

>> BREST OBLAST, BELARUS

>> December 17th, 2019

Barkov is dead, and it's up to the 141 to wipe the shit stain off the map.

They don't have the full story yet, but for now Laswell has given them coordinates pointing deep into the snowy rural landscape of the Belarusian countryside.

Ghost watches a litter of workers mill around the dark tarmac like ants, clearing the runway of any stray streaks of ice and snow under a wan grey sky, and hoists his pack further up his shoulder as he and the rest of the 141 pile into a small cargo plane that looks more like a starved bird than a machine capable of flight. They amble noisily down the narrow aisle, dropping their packs into their seats and chattering amongst themselves, the sounds ricocheting off the blank walls.

Just as he’s settling in his chosen seat, someone drops heavily with a theatrical sigh into the seat to Ghost’s right. Sergeant MacTavish. Soap. Ridiculous fucking name but whatever he supposes. Soap grins crookedly at Ghost and scratches absentmindedly at a band aid taped to the jut of his bruised cheekbone — just one of many scattered across his face and knuckles that serve as clear testaments to Soap’s inability to keep himself out of trouble. 

“Laswell must be havin’ a field day, right LT?”

Ghost pictures in his mind Laswell hunched over a cramped desk for the past month just to find a measly single line of coordinates pointing them to arse fuck nowhere, and can’t help but think the poor woman isn’t having anything other than hell on earth let alone a field day. 

“Why’d you say that?” he asks gruffly, already feeling irritation seeping into him as he begrudgingly continues the conversation. 

“The CIA finally nailing a commie base after 60 years? Must be feelin’ proud o’themselves.”

“You’d think they’d be more irritated that it’s taken them that long. We don’t even know if this is it.”

Ghost discovers that Soap is the type of guy to embellish his words with expressive hand gestures, and he does so now. “Have some faith, LT. Hear both sides of the story before jumping to conclusions.”

“The only sides the CIA will know are the sides of my boot when I fit it up their arses if this goes nowhere.”

That cracks Johnny up, and Ghost looks away to hide the way the crow’s feet framing the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly under his mask. 

----------

What they find inside is nothing short of a bloodbath.

The facility was all but abandoned when they had made their way to the outer walls. No guards. No lights. No noise except the whistling of the wind sweeping over the snow.

The silence around them serves as an indicator of the deafening noise it must have taken for so many bodies to litter the floor. There are bullets embedded in the marble wall in the foyer, and the team picks their way inside over the heaps of dead guards. The blood is old enough to have coagulated, and there’s an unpleasant sticky noise every time Ghost lifts his boot to step forward.

They’re on the second level now, and the layers of spilt blood get thicker the deeper they go into the facility. Ghost passes a room before doubling back and entering, he takes a glance in and sees rows upon rows of wrought-iron beds with thin mattresses atop them. His head tilts curiously to the side as he spies a girl’s hair ribbon sprawled on the floor and a tiny pair of mary jane shoes tucked neatly under one of the beds.

Soap follows him, catching his attention silently to show Ghost the pairs of handcuffs dangling from each iron bedpost. The atmosphere is heavy, like the air in the room has a story of pain to tell and it’s suffocating them. 

Price is the one to palm his radio when they regroup and relay what they’ve seen, “Watcher-1, I’m sure you’ll be glad to know that the lead’s legitimate.”

“I’ll be more glad to know if you’ve found the children,” Laswell returns crisply.

“Somebody got here before us, wiped out the whole place. ‘S a bloodbath.” The air shivers with tension. “No kids in sight now, though there’s evidence to suggest that they were here some time ago.”

A few seconds pass in silence. Ghost imagines that Laswell’s eyebrows are pinched like they always are whenever she runs into a problem or defeat. A bit more than a month of searching, for nothing more than a mass grave. 

A sigh comes over the line, but Laswell’s voice is determined. “We better find this somebody then.”

[orphicmusings]

LOVELOVELOOOVE ur viktor writing . He’s soo boyfriend and i think u capture his character so so well <33 was wondering if you’d consider writing something abt reader experiencing academic burnout (or similar) and him comforting them / convincing them to take a break n rest? :3 if u don’t feel like writing it then no worries !! Take care of urself <33

(kinda apart of my viktor & humanities reader au —)

if there was anyone who would be in the library until it closed, it would be you and viktor. though on opposite sides, in different sections. you always acknowledge each other with a friendly hello if you cross paths, but otherwise you leave him to his studying and he leaves you.

that is, until he sees you slumped against the literary fiction aisle, your eyes closed, head resting on an almost empty shelf. you had an open book held loosely in your hands, your place likely long gone. highlighters and pencils were scattered about your crossed legs, where you sat next to a laptop bag, a notebook and an empty coffee cup. so much for it. he sighed and gently approached you, laying a delicate hand on your shoulder.

“hey.” he tried to keep his voice soft as not to startle you. “i don’t think your neck will be very happy with you.”

you blinked awake, stifling a gasp as your vision adjusted to the dim light of the library, this angle blocking one of the overhead yellow lights, creating a warm halo around the tawny locks of your interruption, making him look more like a savior. oh, no. it’s hot library guy. your cheeks flushed immediately when you realized who was seeing you in this pathetic state. “i…” you cleared your throat, stretching your arms. “thank you.”

“of course.” he chuckled warmly and it made your heart skip a beat. “i…don’t want to state the obvious, but you do know this is not normal, yes?”

your cheeks flushed even more as you let out a sigh. yes, you knew pushing yourself until your brain can’t take it anymore isn’t normal. but how else were you gonna make it through all these tests? “i see you slumped over your books in here, too.” you offered as a hoarse counter.

he tilted his head with a raise of his brow, considering your point. “i don’t fall asleep on the floor.”

you groaned, covering your face in embarrassment. “just…forget you saw me like this.”

“oh, why would i do that?” he chuckled again. “it is quite amusing. proof that caffeine cannot fix everything.” he pointed to your coffee cup. at your tired glare, he relented. “i’m just kidding with you. i’m viktor.” he offered his hand to you. you sighed and took it, pulling you to your feet and introducing yourself. “it is nice to put a name to a face i see so often. now, even though we just met, i feel compelled to walk you home.”

you would have refused, but the sun already went down and you weren’t nearly alert enough to walk home alone. “that…would be nice, thank you.” you smiled thinly, feeling heat flood your face again.

he waited for you to gather your things and hooked his arm in yours. you idly chatted about your majors as you walked to your dorm buildings. for someone majoring in engineering physics, he actually did seem to be interested in your english pursuit. “you know what my favorite book is?” he asked. “a lot of people would assume it is some kind of scientific landmark, a theoretical curiosity, and i wouldn’t deny it.” he chuckled lightly. “but considering this is your area of expertise, i’ll tell you.”

you smiled. “what is it?”

“emma.” he returned the smile. “by jane austen. classic.”

“oh my god.” you giggled. “i wouldn’t expect that from you. but now that you mention it…” you tilted your head. “you do give off knightley vibes.”

pink dusted his cheeks. “that…is a very appreciated compliment.” he returned your energy again, giggling himself. god, you wanted to make him laugh all the time. he dropped you off at your dorm and assured you he was fine to walk back on his own, as his building was right across from yours.

“am i gonna see you at the library tomorrow night?” you asked.

he turned and smiled. “perhaps.”

[hrtfelt7]

percy jackson x gn!reader (jen's airpods: birds of a feather by billie eilish)

warnings: angst with a happy-ish ending, nightmare, hurt/comfort, ptsd from tartarus, longish?? i put this together quite quickly so its kinda shitty 😓

Percy can’t quite remember the nightmare, but he can hear your scream, the sound so raw, so filled with terror, it cuts through him like a blade. He sees you falling- falling- into the abyss of Tartarus, your eyes wide, filled with a kind of fear that claws at his soul. Your gaze locks with his, desperate and pleading, and then... nothing.

He reaches for you. He tries to pull you back from the darkness, but his hands slip through empty air. He’s too late. Always too late. And just like that, you’re gone. He's lost you. Oh gods, he's lost you.

Percy's eyes snap open, his heart pounding in his ears. The sheets are cold, your side of the bed empty, and for a moment, the world feels like it’s caving in. His fingers stretch into the vacant space where you should be, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he desperately searches for your warmth.

But the bed is empty. Your gone.

"No... no, please, no..." His voice breaks, raw and hollow, like it’s being dragged from the deepest part of him. His vision blurs over, watercolour eyes spilling with tears as his hands curl into the sheets, fingers twisting as if he can pull you back, as if he can tear this nightmare apart. But it won't stop, it won't stop. He's sobbing, tears streaming down his face. He's lost you.

And then, the cabin door creaks open.

The soft sound cuts through the darkness. You step into the room, your figure bathed in the soft, golden light from the cabin's bathroom- Percy's shirt hanging off your shoulders, your eyes still half-lidded from sleep, unaware of how Percy's shattering, shattering into a million shards of fractured agony. But the moment your eyes meet his- wide, searching, filled with your quiet knowing, you don’t need words. You know. You don’t need anything but to be there. And you are.

In an instant, you’re by his side, your arms around him, pulling him towards you without a second thought. His hands are trembling as they clutch at you, as if holding you could somehow erase the terror that still clung to him. As if he could anchor himself to you.

"Speak to me, what happened?" Your voice is soft, laced with concern, but it’s the familiarity of your welcoming voice that tethers him back to reality. You hold him and you can almost feel the storm raging inside of him; a dam that's ready to explode, and then you feel his body tremble and for the first time tonight, it's not just from fear, but from the comfort of your presence as well.

Tears spill freely now, streaking down his face as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his arms shaking with the kind of desperation that only comes from fear—fear of losing you, fear of never getting you back. "You were gone," he gasps, his voice cracking, fragile, too broken to be held together. "You left me. I couldn’t—" His words falter, swallowed by the sobs that shake his frame. "You were gone."

For a long, aching moment, you don’t speak. You just hold him, feeling his heartbeat hammer against your chest, feeling the frantic, trembling rhythm of his agony as it pulses through the both of you. Your fingers weave into his messy hair, your touch slow, steady, as you kiss the top of his head, the salty tears on his cheeks, like you're binding him to you, with every breath, every touch. Because you never want to leave him.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. You won’t lose me. I promise.” Your lips press soft kisses to his forehead, your hands tracing the lines of his jaw, grounding him in your presence like you’re the only thing real in a world that’s been swallowed by fear.

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes—his tear-soaked, broken eyes—and it nearly shatters you. Like he's been waiting for the moment that you'll leave him too. His tears ruin you, every single one is a blow to the chest, another strike, another stab. If you could bear half the scars that lay on his skin, the demons in his mind, you would. In a heartbeat.

“I’m right here,” you say softly, your voice unwavering. “Safe. And I always will be, as long as I'm with you.”

You feel his body loosen in your arms, and he can feel it—that weight lifting off his chest, just a little. His grip on you tightens, trembling, but it’s no longer fear clawing at him. It’s something else. Something softer. Something more fragile- intimate, that's between the two of you only.

“I love you,” he breathes, as your hands cradle his face, as you pull him back into the warmth of your arms. He's never letting you go. Because you are the only thing he can hold onto even when his world breaks apart. You murmur the words back at him, pressing a kiss to his temple, inhaling the smell of him; morning breeze, ocean spray and clean laundry.

You’re here. You’re safe. And for the first time in the entire night, Percy feels like he can finally breathe.

a/n: i actually love this boy with the whole of my heartt anyways this was my first time writing on here so tips would be very much appreciated. also the fic from the poll once the results come through will be posted in a day or two thank u all for being patient w me 🫶🏽🫶🏽

[chaos-in-deepspace]

Pussy Xavier: 7 Days Series (Day 1.5: Shopping)

Final part for today! I'll probably be writing more chapters tomorrow, who knows, I sure as hell don't. I hope you guys enjoy some pussy Xavier. Oh and before I forget, I had to post these today to celebrate my dear friend's birthday! So happy birthday dear, I hope all your pussy Xavier fantasize will come to life with this.

Warnings: Fluff Synopsis: With Xavier's new anatomy, you decide he should probably get underwear that was a bit more comfortable. Going on a simple shopping trip, however, ends up with a basket full of snacks. Word Count: 2.2k

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Fic Masterlist | Normal Masterlist

Day 1.5: Shopping

It was nearing noon by the time Xavier was finally willing to let go of his hold on you in the bed. He had been so content just lying there all day that when you told him you needed to get up and use the restroom, he reluctantly let you go. However, he wasn't done with clinging onto you just yet. This is how you found yourself sitting on his lap while you scrolled through your phone, and he flicked through movie options for you two to watch.

You were looking for reviews on some of the movies he suggested, telling him if they were good or not based on what others were saying. Xavier let out a small sigh as he leaned forward and kissed your shoulder, "I'll be right back; I'm going to grab us a snack real fast." Xavier said, shifting you off his lap so he could stand up. You watched him leaving the room, adjusting his underwear uncomfortably as he did so, and you couldn't help but chuckle.

He turned to you with a small pout but otherwise went into the kitchen to grab a bag of chips you two could snack on. By the time he was sitting down on the couch, you had figured out what you wanted to watch. There was a slightly more pressing issue that you needed to bring up.

"Think you'd be more comfortable in a pair of underwear that…hugs you a bit better?" You asked him, and he looked at you in confusion. "You can borrow some of mine."

Xavier cleared his throat and looked away from you for a moment, "I don't think that's…necessary." He murmured to you with a sigh, "I don't even know if they'd fit me." Well, he had a point there. Xavier was pretty well endowed in the rear area, something you couldn't help but notice anytime he was walking away from you. It was just…right there. A perfect bubble butt that you thought was absolutely adorable. He was right, though; there was no guarantee your stuff would fit him.

"Then how about we go out shopping for some?" You suggested to him. You looked at the plain bag of chips in his hand, something he normally grabbed when you guys were otherwise running out of snacks, "We can pick up some snacks while we're out." You said, knowing that would be enough to coax him to go out with you…hopefully.

Xavier hummed as he seemed to think it over, "Perhaps…that would be fine. If it helps make me more comfortable, then I have no objections." He said. Xavier was normally such a homebody on his days off, and while you certainly enjoyed getting to stay in, it was also a nice treat to go out placed. Even something as simple as a grocery store was fun if he was tagging along with you.

You both had gotten ready pretty fast, throwing on casual outfits since you weren't planning on staying out for too long. As you were putting on your shoes, you heard Pancake meowing at you for some attention. You chuckled as you scooped up your pet cat and gave her a small kiss on the forehead, "We'll be back before you know it, Pancake." You promised the kitty, who meowed happily.

You watched Xavier lean forward and kiss Pancake's head, "Watch over the house while we're gone." He said, and in return, he got another cute meow. He chuckled, then leaned to give you a kiss on the forehead. You let out a small laugh as you dropped Pancake onto the ground and grabbed your wallet from the area next to the door. Xavier followed you out of the apartment, and you walked hand in hand over to the train station.

Your timing, thankfully, couldn't have gotten any better. As soon as you guys were at the station, you could see that the next train would be arriving in a few minutes. "I guess we got pretty lucky," Xavier murmured while leaning down to speak in your ear.

"I'm pretty sure anytime I'm with you, we get incredibly lucky. My little good luck charm." You reached up and pinched his cheek. Xavier batted your hand away, but he couldn't hold back the smile that was gracing his face.

You two stood back on the platform as the train came in, and then Xavier grabbed your hand and helped you onboard it. He held you tight against his chest as people filed in; he reached up and grabbed one of the handles hanging from the roof of the train. You looked up at him and chuckled, "Guess we can't always be too lucky." You commented as you felt someone brushing against you.

Xavier's hand came over to wrap around your waist so you could hold onto him as the train began moving, "It's fine; it's only two stops away, so we won't be on here for long." Xavier seemed unbothered as always. His arm was securely around you as you shifted a bit, and the train moved around. Every time Xavier happened to see something outside that looked particularly breathtaking, he'd bring your attention to it.

Without much issue, the train arrived at the station you needed the most. Azure Square, the heart of Linkon City. You were close by to your work now as Xavier grabbed your hand and placed it into his own pocket while giving it a small squeeze, "We aren't here for work today, remember." He said, and you nodded.

"I know; I was just wondering if we might run into one of our colleagues, is all." It was around the time people would either be on their lunch break or just coming back from it.

"If luck is on our side…we won't." Xavier's words were blunt and made you laugh as he took you into the store. It had a bit of everything you needed in it, from clothes to groceries. The one-stop shop for all your needs as you dragged Xavier to the women's clothing area. You could see how uncomfortable he was as he shifted his eyes. It wasn't too busy inside, let alone in this department, as you began looking at the packs of underwear on display.

Your eyes easily caught the sight of some boyshort-styled underwear, and you grabbed the large pair, "Think these will be fine?" you asked, not knowing his exact measurement. They should hypothetically fit him since they seemed to have an elastic waistband, and he took a glance at them.

"Ya, those will work." They almost resembled briefs, which was the entire reason you grabbed them. As cute as he'd look in a lacy number, you doubt he'd be amused by having to wear them. The chances that he'd do it anyway were pretty high, though, so if this did continue on for a while, you might have to buy him some eventually. After you threw the underwear pack into the basket Xavier had grabbed, he was already making his way to the snack area.

This was somewhere that Xavier was very comfortable in as he took a look at everything there was. He grabbed a few things, such as flavored chips, beef jerky, and some boxes of pocky. "Really, pocky?" you asked him with a smirk.

"For old time's sake. They're a fun snack to eat together." He clarified, and you hummed.

"You know we're dating now. If you want an excuse to kiss me, all you have to do is ask." You remind him, and just as you said this, his mouth was on yours for a quick peck. You covered your own mouth with a small blush and rolled your eyes at his antics.

"Come on, I think this should be enough. I don't think the basket could hold much more…we should've gotten a cart." He muttered the last part under his breath.

"Xavier, we need to carry all this back onto the train, in case you forgot. This is plenty." Despite your words, you were grabbing two snacks you enjoyed, and he sent you a knowing look. You both went up front to the self-checkout and with you scanning and Xavier bagging everything, you were able to get out of there in a timely fashion.

Xavier was insistent on holding the bags himself as you two began walking down the streets of Linkon. You checked the train schedule and sighed, "Next train isn't coming around for another half hour." You commented to him. Xavier frowned as he looked around the area before he seemed to have something catch his eye.

"Well, it would take us half an hour to walk back home…or we could stop by a new cafe and wait for the next train." He commented, and you looked over to see a grand opening sign for a cafe. You smiled and looked up at him and hooked your arm with his own.

"That sounds good to me; I won't turn down a good drink." You said as you made your way inside. The interior seemed polished from the new establishment, and you took the bags from Xavier to find a spot in a booth by the window near the back. You trusted Xavier to know your order by now, and he certainly delivered as he came over with two drinks in hand and two small bags filled with pastries.

"Coffee and Danishes, at your ready," Xavier said as he placed your drink in front of you. It was a bit cold out, so feeling the warmth of the coffee cup made you sigh in relief as you brought it to your mouth and blew on the top.

"What would I do without you?" You asked him as you took the first sip. He managed to get your order perfect as you settled more into your chair. Xavier sat across from you as he drank from his own cup, and you had a strong feeling it was just a plain coffee from experience. How he managed to deal with the bitter taste was a mystery, but when he kissed you after some coffee, his kisses still tasted sweet, so you weren't about to complain.

"I prefer not to think about that." He explained, and you watched as he shifted in his chair before moving to cross his legs, something you don't think you've ever really seen him do. Crossing his ankles, sure, but never full-on crossing his legs like that.

"You good?" You asked, and Xavier sighed as he looked around. He was already tearing a piece of the strawberry Danish off to pop into his mouth when he paused in his motion so he could give you an answer.

"Ya… I'm just not used to it. It always feels…wet." He said, a slight flush on his cheeks now, and you nodded.

"That happens." You said, "It's annoying, but just a part of dealing with it. It's not that bad. This is why I told you it was so important to change your underwear on a daily basis." You pointed out, and Xavier shook his head as he bit into the Danish. He was pouting now as he swallowed the bit in his mouth.

"At this rate, I need to change twice in a day…if not more." It was clear he was not enjoying that part. Well, he wasn't exactly enjoying any part of it at the moment, but you were sure if it went on long enough, he might be fine with it eventually.

"I mean, you can always put a panty liner in your underwear." You commented, and Xavier turned to you confused, "Normally, it's worn when your period is almost over, and it's light, but since it can be taken out and thrown away so you can put on a new one, it's a good solution. Whenever it gets wet, you can just put on a new one." You explained to him, "I mean, it's not like this hasn't been done before." You tell him.

"All I have to do is…put on a thin pad…that could work," Xavier said, and you nodded.

"Simple solutions for simple problems." You said and then decided to enjoy your treat as well, "When we get back to the apartment, I can show you how to put one on." You said, and Xavier frowned.

"How hard can it be?" He asked, and you shrugged.

"It's probably the easiest thing ever, but just in case, you know?" You said after swallowing some of your food, "But we should probably hurry up in here. We only have about ten minutes before the next train, and I don't want to miss it." You glanced at your phone as the alarm you set went off.

"Alright, fine, and then we're watching movies for the rest of the day." He said, "And eating snacks…we can order dinner."

"Sounds good to me, now let's get going." You said, standing up and holding your half-eaten treat in one hand while the other is held out to Xavier to take. Feeling him taking your hand in his own had you smiling as you pulled him back up. He quickly took your food and placed it into one of the grocery bags. He then guided you out of the cafe so you two could make it back home as soon as possible.

MDNI and Support Banners by Cafekitsune Image used in Title Banner by LeaderinCrows on X and Bluesky

[lqveharrington]

Can I request an Aaron Warner fic with Don’t Blame Me and/or Gorgeous? I feel like he’s so Reputation coded.

Gorgeous | A.W.

summary: you come home drunk and find yourself fixated on aaron (as usual)

pairing: aaron warner x fem!reader

includes: intoxication, fluff, kissing, warner and reader being so in love

a/n: this is my favorite taylor swift song of all time 🩷 i also agree, he is reputation coded

When you told Warner you were going have a girls night with the twins, Nazeera, and Juliette, he didn’t think you would get too drunk. Yes, he wanted you to have an amazing time with your friends, but you both knew you were lightweight. If you drank any form of whiskey — hell, even the slightest bit of champagne — you were in for a night.

You would have the worst possible hangover known to man and it was surely a sight to witness. Luck for you, Warner was always there to take care of you. He would never complain about helping you into comfortable clothes or helping with the morning headache. In fact, he found it amusing whenever you got too drunk.

Especially since you were a clingy, honest, and stubborn drunk.

The faded light from the stars and moon cascaded into the living room when the doorbell rang out. Warner took one glance at the clock and shut his book, making his way toward the manor's front door. He stayed up waiting for you to come home and it was already one in the morning. Never would he expect you to stay out that late.

Running his fingers through his hair, he slowly pulled the door open only to be surprised by Sonya and Sara carrying you with their shoulders, nodding to whatever you were babbling about. Warner opened his mouth to talk before you finally realized where you were, your eyes lighting up to the sight of your loving boyfriend.

"Aaron!" You meet his ocean-blue eyes and stumble into his arms, erupting in giggles when he caught you. Tilting your head to the side, you sighed softly and scanned his facial features, mentally noting any change you haven't noticed before. "You look so gorgeous!"

"Hi, love." Warner furrowed his brows and kept a steady hand on your back, shifting his attention to the twins standing in front of him with a flustered expression. "How drunk did she get?"

"It's not our fault, Warner." Sara wringed her hands together and pursed her lips, trying to figure out how to explain how drunk you got. "She — er — kept buying shots because Nazeera made a bet she could drink more." She confessed and handed the blonde your leather clutch, biting back a laugh when you kept poking his cheek like a child. "She didn't win."

"Clearly." Sonya hid her own laughter when Warner gently pushed your hand away, making you pout and cross your arms. "Anyway, we're just here to drop her off since she can't walk straight without rolling her ankle."

Your eyes instantly found Warner's jade ring and — once again — you were entranced with something new. The girls raised their brows at how fast you could fixate on something, but they weren't surprised whatsoever.

Sonya shook her head, "She almost twisted her ankle making it up the pathway—"

"Girls, isn't he so gorgeous!" You cut her off and squish Warner's cheeks in your hands, eyes glazed with adoration and alcohol.

The twins shook their head, knowing it was time to leave. They nodded to Warner before turning to leave, linking their arms together as they walked the pathway down to the limo.

You giggled at Warner's face before finding both girls gone, making you pout and call out to them. "Wait, where are you two going?"

"We're leaving you with your boyfriend." Sonya started to walk backwards and waved to the two of you — blowing you an air kiss —which seemed to cheer you up straightaway. "Bye!"

"Bye!" You shout and use all your energy to wave with your entire arm, hiccupping as your cheeks flushed red from all the cold air. The door slowly shut and you looked up at Warner only to find him smiling oddly at you. Amusement or not, it confused you. "What?"

"Nothing." He kissed your temple and guided you through the house.

Although you made loads of progress entering the hallways, you were still walking like a baby deer — and your heels were not helping you situation. Warner waited a few beats before stopping all movements, bending down to take your heels off.

You yelp in surprise and hold onto the wall beside you, your feet warm again the cold, marble flooring. Huffing, you looked over at Warner only to see his blonde hair for a split second before he carried you bridal style. Your eyes instantly widened as he did so, manicured nails digging into his shoulder at the motion.

"Hold onto me tightly." Warner instructed and adjusted his hold on you, the black heels and leather clutch still in his hands.

Say what you want about Aaron Warner, but he was the truly a gentleman when he came to taking care of the ones he loved. It didn't matter what the situation was — he made sure you were tended to first.

Warner ascended the stairway leading up to your shared bedroom as your head began to droop and stifle yawns. You were beginning to fall into your sleepy state after being drunk for too long and Warner needed you awake a little longer. He knew you would beat yourself up if you went to bed with a full face of makeup.

"How was the night out?" He asked softly and gently tapped your hip, watching your eyes flutter open at the unexpected question.

"Super fun." You yawn and bury your head in his cashmere sweater, the familiar scent of gardenias filling your senses. "I think Juliette threw up in the bathroom, I'm not sure."

Warner furrowed his brows at your words as he pushed the door to the bedroom open. Sure, he wasn't entirely sure what your definition of fun was, but he doubted seeing one of your friends throw up in the bathroom was fun. Especially since Juliette was the other lightweight of the friend group.

"That's... fun?"

"Yes." You drawl and tilt your head backwards, giggling as you saw an upside down version of your shared space.

The golden chandelier appeared to be bolted in the ground and the bed seemed to be stuck to the ceiling — you were somehow amazed by it. But when you passed the mirror, the illusion broke, making you sigh and tilt your head back upright.

Carefully, Warner set you down onto the king-sized bed and assured your safety before heading into the walk-in closet to the right of the room. He knew where all you beloved items belonged in your half. Your heels by the drawers and your clutch on a shelf beside your extensive collection of Hermès bags.

While he left you alone for only a few seconds, you managed to: braid stray pieces of your hair together, hum a random melody that popped into your brain, and dramatically toss yourself back onto the bed in hopes of getting your boyfriend back quicker.

Which proved to work since he appeared a split-second later.

"I'm just going to agree with whatever that sigh was for." Warner entered from the left side of the room — holding a glass of water and aspirin.

Your face twisted in confusion when you realized he emerged from the master bathroom. You didn't even know he crossed over until now. Shaking your head, you pushed yourself up and sat on the edge of the bed, smiling softly at the man you loved oh-so much.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his hand running up and down your arm in comfort. "Did the girls give you water to drink before coming here?"

You nodded but took a sip from the glass anyway, lips smacking to enunciate the action. Warner rolled his eyes in amusement before thumbing the strap to your dress, cocking his head to the side when you merely blinked up at him.

"You have to change into pajamas, love." He clarified and hid a smile when you fell back on the bed like you were told your best friend just caught a deadly disease. He laced a hand with yours as you whined like a child.

"Aaronnn, it took sooo long to get ready." You complain and grab the silk pillow behind you, burying your face into the front. "I don't wannnaaa."

Warner slowly pulled the pillow away from your face and sent you an unimpressed look, arms crossing when you met his eyes. You smiled cheekily — as if you forgot what you were complaining about mere seconds ago — before sitting up again. He narrowed his eyes at your sudden change in behavior, raising a brow when your smile widened.

"Can I change into your sweater? It looks really comfortable." You ask and clasp your hands together, almost begging him to allow you to wear what he was wearing.

"This?" He pinched the sweater in between his pointer and thumb, watching you nod fervently.

He wasn't sure if rewarding you for complaining was the best option, but he could use it as an incentive to get you to do other things before heading to bed. After all, you would also rope him onto the blame train about how he let you sleep with makeup on.

Warner tugged you up onto your feet again and sighed, giving into your demands. Although he made sure you couldn't get away with everything you wanted with a simple pout and big eyes.

"I'll let you wear my sweater if you go take the makeup off, brush your teeth, and use the bathroom for me."

"What — That's not fair!" You protested and stomped your foot to the ground like a brat.

Warner raised his eyebrows at you and gave you a pointed look. In your intoxicated state, he knew not to take it to heart. Yet, you were testing your limits with how bratty and child-like you were acting. He watched your front falter and instantly, he knew you folded under his fixed look.

"Fine."

Patting your hip as you walked off to the bathroom in a sluggish manner, he bit back an amused smile. Your drunken-self had a special place in his heart and if he could, he would've taken pictures of your pouting face as you went to do what he asked.

He pulled his sweater off and ran his fingers through your hair, chuckling when he heard your muffled humming. He couldn't help but peak inside the bathroom, lips turned down in a smile when he saw you leaning against the sink, using the toothbrush as a prop microphone.

"You done?" Warner interrupted your performance with small smirk, hand finding its home on the curve of your waist.

You patted your face in a towel and nodded, letting exhaustion finally take over. He led you back into the main room and ran his fingers through your hair a couple times before helping you pull yours black dress off.

"Good girl." He murmured when you easily followed his steps, letting you sit on the bed in compensation for the lack of energy.

Yawning, you rubbed your eyes before finally focusing them to the man in front of you. Maybe you truly were losing your mind to fatigue, but you didn't realize Warner was shirtless. His grey sweats were hanging low on his hips, revealing your favorite tattoo of his. Your eyes followed every muscle up until you met his eyes, your own blown wide at the lack of coverage.

"Arms up, love." He held back a smirk at your distracted state, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before pulling the sweater over your head. Warner gently moved your hair out from under the fabric, tucking it to the side before smiling at you. "There."

You hum appreciatively and crawl over to your side of the bed, eyes shining brightly once more when he turned around to put away your dress. His back tattoo now faced you as he walked the space of the room. You mentally traced each letter on his back, letting them engrave themselves into your mind.

I G N I T E

Warner turned back around only to see your hazed look, pursing his lips together in amusement when you instantly clambered over to him as he finally joined you in bed.

Your eyes trail up his body to meet his gorgeous blue eyes, biting your bottom lip to contain your enjoyment. Even in your drunken state, you enjoyed staring at Warner no matter what. You ruffled his hair and kissed his jaw, Warner's arms encircling you.

"So so so gorgeous." You whisper and flashed your charming smile — sighing softly when he gave you a quick yet warming kiss.

"Not as stunning as you." He tangled your legs together and allowed you to trace your name into his arms, watching your eyes slowly accept their tiredness.

You yawn and nuzzle your head closer to him, tucking it under his chin. "Even when I'm drunk?"

The crackling of the fireplace took over the few seconds of silence as Warner adjusted his hold on you, kissing your forehead when he finally settled. He contemplated your words for a second. He knew he loved your either way, but watching you blink up at him expectantly made his hear swell in so much love and emotion.

"Of course." He finally answered and gave you a reassuring grin, lifting one hand to brush stray pieces of your hair away from your eyes. "I love you however you are."

"You love me?" You ask softly — as if you both haven’t said that to each other before. Your smile widens and a bright blush rises to your cheeks, not at all embarrassed at how you were acting.

Well, not until the next morning. Warner wouldn't let you forget this if you tried to block it out.

"I love you too." You whisper and make a quick glance to his lips before meeting his eyes again.

"Yeah?" He chuckled and thumbed your cheek, feeling you melt from his touch.

Warner couldn't remember what it felt like when you weren't in his life. You were the light in his dark story. Every single interaction with you made him fall harder. It didn't matter if you were sober, drunk, sleeping, reading, or even just existing. He loved you for who you were and he would do every thing keep you happy.

"Yes." You murmur and kiss his palm. "You being gorgeous was just a bonus."

"Mhm." He tugged you closer and pressed one last kiss to the top of your head, breathing you in. "Let's go to bed before hungover you gets made for staying up to late."

"You make me too happy for me to get mad." You argue but melt like putty in his arms, focusing on the steady beat of his heart. You shut your eyes and sleepily confess your love again, smiling when he held you tighter. "Love you."

"Goodnight, love."

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