#can't even watch the grass move to guess where she is

[abirddogmoment]

she's windy tonight

[the-fiction-witch]

Sweetling

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Benjicot Blackwood Couple - Benjicot X Reader Reader - (OC) Lady Y/n Blackwood Rating - Cute AF! Word Count - 3280

Lady Y/n Bracken stood in her gown sword at her hip, on her side of the border shivering with fear and cold, she was only the lady of house Bracken for two days given Benjicot had killed four of her older brothers, she had gone out to patrol the border in the grey rain, but it had not gone well.

Benjicot continued to stalk towards his Prey, eyes locked on Y/n's shivering figure, his sword in hand, he could taste the sweat on her skin and hear her heart pounding, "Have you nothing to say, Bracken??" he shouted, a sly smile on his lips as the air crackled with the threat of action.

"...I... I don't know what I could that won't get me stabbed," she gulped sheepishly drawing her sword but immediately dropping it, so she grabbed it from the grass and mud holding the handle with both hands, the sword shaking the tip falling where the sword was too heavy for her as she tries to defend the border

"...You, a Lady... Wielding a sword?" he asked almost amused as he came closer, the smile on his face grew as he saw her hands shaking while holding the Blade, "That Blade is too large for you, you will cut your own head off, give it to me" He outstretched his hand awaiting the sword

"h-how do I know you won't use it to attack me?”

a scoff escaped his lips as he walked closer and closer to her, "Because I'm not a dishonourable Brute like your brothers, now give the damn sword to me" He took several more steps "Before I pry it from your hands myself"

she gulped moves and offered her sword as best she could making sure he didn't step over the border

He approached, taking the sword from her hands, her trembling sent a chill down his spine, not from the chill rain the two had been standing in, but from her shaking, her fear of him "You know, you are not as bad for a Bracken as I expected, you can be quite useless" He looked her up and down as he spoke

lady Y/n stood a whole head shorter than him, she was small and innocent, a little girl never expecting to be given power as a fifth child in the family, her hair heavy her curls obvious as they were soaked, her little orange dress around her too big for her and also wet sticking to her body, her belt for the sword tied in a knot as the belt itself was too long to buckle for her, a bow and arrows on her back but upside down

He watched her, his eyes following her frame. Her dress clung to her due to the rain, almost as if showing off the small curves of her soft body, for a moment he had to swallow hard as he looked at her, the thoughts running through his mind, he could easily see she was barely even a woman, the idea of just picking her up and taking her back to his home crossed his mind, his eyes went back to her belt, the knot in it and his lips pursed in frustration "Why is your belt tied like this?" He snapped

"ohh, it's too big for me, and I couldn't find anything to make a new belt hole so I just... Tied it"

he reached down grabbing the belt "Too big for you? What in Gods name were you expecting to accomplish with a giant-ass sword that's far too heavy for you and a belt that's too big to actually hold up the damn thing" He gave the end of the belt a tug, pulling her closer to him

she let out a little yelp as he grabbed the belt forcing her against his doublet the belt undoing in his hand the sword sheath falling in the mud "it uhh it was the only sword I could find..."

He chuckled, a little snort almost as he looked down at her, his hand still holding the end of the belt, holding her against him "Let me guess, it belonged to one of your fat, useless brothers?" his eyes slowly travelled down her small frame

she shook her head "no, they all were buried with them my lord Blackwood... Blacksmith says he can't make me one till next week"

he gave a scoff, pulling on the belt again, this time it was more of a gentle pull, her hips coming closer to his "Who would be stupid enough to give you a sword anyway, you look more like a child than a warrior" he said, his eyes moving to the bow strapped to her back, hung upside down and soaking wet he gave a huff, shaking his head. She was useless, and fragile, and more of a child than a Lady "What were you thinking? Trying to defend your lands all by yourself with no proper weapon for you and a piss poor technique, you're lucky I'm the man on the other side of this border right now"

"yes my lord Blackwood" she nodded very use to being scolded by her own family but now even their mortal enemy family was scolding her

he huffed again, his eyes running across her face, taking in her features, her soft, delicate skin, the way she would look while on top of him....his mind flashed through the thoughts, but he pushed them away, now was not the time for that. "And how did you expect to be able to wield a long-swords as heavy as your brothers when you're smaller and shorter than any of your own brothers? I could pick you up with one arm"

"I... I... I don't know...."

he huffed again, bringing a hand up to her chin, gently tilting her head up so he could look into her eyes "You don't know? Don't know that you're too short and small to be a fighter? Don't know how to wear your own damn belt?"

"I... I... I'm sorry, I just wanted to help... My brother's are gone, my little brother is still only a babe I don't know what else to do" she whined starting to cry

he could see the tears as they began to fall from her eyes, the pleading look in her eyes, his hand still on her chin. With a sigh, his expression softened, his hand slowly leaving her chin and coming up to wipe the tears from her cheek, his touch gentler than when he was scolding her moments before "By the Gods what am I to do with you, you soft little thing..." he pulled her even closer, her body pressed against his chest, his hands holding her in place, a soft look coming across his face "You can't keep doing things like this, you could've been killed. You're only lucky that I'm the one on the other side of this field right now..."

"yes lord blackwood"

his hands stayed resting on her hips, a comforting hold, his eyes scanning her face "You're a little thing…”

she nodded and gulped

he chuckled, the sight of her like this sent a thrill down his spine, she was small enough to fit in his lap, small enough for him to pick her up and do anything he wanted to her...he couldn't help himself from pulling her closer against him, his hands still holding her hips "You don't really expect to lead your house do you? You would get eaten alive"

she nodded tenderly resting her cheek against his doublet feeling comfort in Benjicot as she sniffled, She had lost her father, her mother in child birth, all four brothers and now was lady of her house she didn't know what to do or how to feel so she just nuzzled with him a moment enjoying his comfort even if he was the man who killed her father, and brothers and in her mind was likely going to kill her too

he felt her nuzzle softly against his chest, the feeling of her cheek against him made his heart flutter, she really was just a scared little thing. The thought of anyone being scared of her as a leader of a house made a scoff nearly escape his lips again. He felt an ache of pity "You're a scared little thing aren’t you?" he murmurs his fingers slowly rubbing her hips, his eyes looking down at her tiny body

she nodded

he looked down at her, his hand gently taking her chin and pulling her head back up to look at him. The look on her face, the pure fear and sadness in her eyes made his heart ache "I can already see that, Sweetling" he muttered, his voice going from harsh to softer. He couldn't imagine how scared she was, all alone at the head of a powerful house… for a moment he did have sympathy as he was made lord of house blackwood so young, having lost his father and brother ironically killed by her father, he felt sympathy for her, she had lost her father, her brothers, her mother, she had no family... just like him. He saw himself in her, and looking at her, so small and scared, it sent a different sort of thought into his mind. He wanted to protect her, to hold her in his arms to keep her safe. "You're all alone aren't you? No brothers left, no parents....No one left to take care of you" he asked quietly

"I have a little brother but he's only four moons"

he gave a nod, his fingers on her hip continuing to rub gently "Four moons old...Who is caring for him if you're out here, guarding the border by yourself?"

"The Nursemaids"

he gave a scoff. "Nurse maids caring for a baby lord of a house? A bastard could walk in and claim him as their own before anyone would take notice"

she nodded unsure what to really do

he looked down at her, her eyes still watery with scared tears. He felt a twinge in his heart as he saw how helpless she really was. He would never admit it, but he almost felt protective of her, this little girl in front of him "I could help you, Sweetling...If you want."

"hum? How?"

He tilted her chin once more, his eyes locked on hers "You need a protector, something to make sure no one can ever take you or your family from you again... And I need a wife. A proper Lady in my castle to strengthen the lines of my house"

she looked up at him green eyes wide as she gulped "but - but- but- I'm a bracken. Your a blackwood. Our families have been fighting and killing eachother for... Like... Sixteen centuries"

He chuckled, a gentle smile playing at his lips, "Sweetling I know that. You think that I, more than anyone don't know the history? I know all too well what our families have done to each other... I also know that we are currently talking in the middle of a boarder you were supposed to be guarding, with you being a Lady and me being a Lord..."

she glanced and noticed he was of course over the border "ohh... Fiddle sticks"

he chuckled, his hand resting on his hip as he looked down at her. She really was too adorable, he thought, a little thing like her trying to guard a border was almost laughable "Fiddle sticks? Really darling?"

"I'm not good at swear words..."

he laughed, a real genuine laugh "I can tell. Such a prim and proper Lady, a proper little lady of House Bracken" he gave a faux gag, his hand still tightly holding her hip against his His eyes slowly traveled down her frame again, from her big doe eyes to her soaking wet dress, now clinging to her tiny figure, showing off the small curves of her body... He had to admit it to himself, she was attractive no matter how soft and small she was He shook his head, he had to get his thoughts back on track, he was supposed to be trying to convince her to marry him, not just stare at her like a hungry wolf He gave a soft scoff to himself before looking back at her "There's no one else, is there, who can provide for you like I can? No other families to offer for you."

"... I... I guess so"

he smirked, her answer of 'I guess so' was almost cute, almost as if she didn't know what to say or how to respond. He gently tugged her closer, now so that her chest was almost pressed against his front. He really did tower over her. His hand, which was resting on her chin, slowly slid down her neck, his thumb gently resting under her chin "You're so small, Sweetling...so innocent"

"I guess... It's one of the few ways I can make sure I don't get killed by a blackwood, unless you get mad at me"

he chuckled, his hand now slowly tracing the line of her jaw, his hand on her hip pulling her right up against him, so that she could feel every contour of his chest through his clothes. Her head was barely above his stomach now, forcing her to have to look up at him "Get mad at you? What could you possibly do that would anger your future husband?"

"...burn porridge?"

he cackled, a low chuckle rising from deep in his chest, the thought of this small, soft lady trying to make him porridge and burning it almost made him choke on his own laugh "Really? You think burning my porridge would get me angry? Out of all things that could make me angry, you choose burning porridge?"

"...I'm also not good at porridge"

he chuckled again, his eyes still taking her in, looking down at her small form and the way her body reacted to his touch, the slight shiver as his fingers traced her skin "And you think that making me bad porridge would upset me? What else can you not do? What other skills do you lack, my sweet Sweetling?"

"... Most of them" she nodded

his hand was still on her jaw, his thumb slowly tracing her soft skin as he looked into her eyes "Most of them? You can't even list a few? You really can't do much, can you?" He said the words in a soft tone, almost as if he found it more cute than disappointing

she nodded

he chuckled again, pulling her just a little closer against him, their bodies so close they were almost flush against each other "My Gods you are useless aren't you? Can't defend a boarder, can't cook, can't do anything... What can you do, my little sweetling?"

"... I can sew. I can embroider. I can knit... I... I... That's all."

he hummed, looking down at her soft face "Sewing, embroidering, knitting... Of course, that's all your pretty little mind can think of. Nothing that would actually be useful I assume"

"no,"

he chuckled, his other arm coming around her to wrap around her small, delicate waist, his hands holding her so tight against his chest that she almost couldn't move "You really are a simple little darling, a soft little wife meant to look pretty and have my children..."

she giggled but stopped herself when she realized that's a bad thing

he frowned when she stopped her giggle, his hand on her waist giving a soft squeeze "Why did you stop? I thought that was adorable?"

"I realized you meant it as in insult"

he gave a scoff, shaking his head "An insult? No, I didn't mean it as an insult. You are soft and delicate, made to look pretty and have my children. Not really made for much more, are you my sweet Sweetling?"

"I guess not" she agreed "are.. we really to go through with this?"

he chuckled, pulling her even tighter against his chest, his hands on her waist and jaw holding her so that she was flush against his chest. Her small body against his was almost too arousing, her curves pressing against him through her dress "Did you really think I was joking, sweetling?"

"... I don't know, this could all be a lie to kidnap me to raventree hill, and kill me" he chuckled again, a deep, amused laugh rising from his chest. He was starting to like her, she was too cute to not like. Pulling her against him a little rougher than before, he looked down at her "Why would I lie, dear? You are far more valuable alive than you are dead, a sweet little bride to strengthen my house, a pretty little pet to warm my bed and give me sons"

"and... What if I'm not good at that either?"

he chuckled, a low hum rising from his throat. She really was a sweet thing, almost too adorable to not love "How could you possibly mess that up? It would all be so simple, just laying down and giving me some heirs. A Sweetling like you can manage that much, can't you, my sweetling?"

"I'll certainly try my lord"

he smiled, his hands still holding her small frame against his chest. Her body was so delicate, he could wrap his hands around her waist completely. He smirked a low scoff rising from his chest "You'll try. It's adorable that you even think there's room to not do it. You will give me heirs, darling, you're far too soft not to"

she nodded agreeing and as soon as she did benjicot picked her up in his arms and began to carry her over the border to take her home with him to Raventree Hall

he chuckled, the feeling of her small, light body in his arms was satisfying, she really was just a Sweetling, small and soft and so, so useless. He could do whatever he wanted to her, and no one would be able to say a thing, she was now his to use and shape into a proper Lady "There we go, darling. Time to go home with your betrothed" he continued carrying her bridal-style, every step making her little body bounce a little in his arms, forcing her to wrap her arms around his neck to keep herself upright. As they left the riverland behind, he gave a deep, satisfied laugh "Off to Raventree Hall we go, sweetling. Off to be my pretty little wife"

she giggled her dress thin and soaked from the rain letting him feel every last inch of her, as she jiggled with the bounces he walks

he felt every bounce and jiggle from her body in his arms, the feeling of her body against his as she held onto his neck and her thin dress sticking to her body almost made him want to pin her on the ground right then and there and make her his right now "You really are a soft, fragile thing aren't you, my sweetling? You wouldn't last a moment on the field"

"I doubt think so" she agreed

he chuckled again, readjusting his hold on her to pull her closer against his chest, her body flush with his. The feeling of her curvy little body was so satisfying, so perfect against him "You're such an adorable thing, my Sweetling. So much more useful in a bed than on the battlefield, don't you think, sweetling?"

she nodded nuzzling his neck "hummm hubby"

he gave a deep humm as he felt her nuzzling into his neck, her little face almost adorable against the soft skin of his neck "Hubby? Is that what you're going to call me, sweetling? You are such a sweet little thing, aren't you?"

"is that okay?"

he chuckled, still walking and carrying her as he nodded "More than okay, sweetling. Sweet little thing like you, calling me hubby, how adorable. You're almost too little to be real"

[ginnsbaker]

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (1/?)

“I'm sorry, I'm not sure I understand,” you say, hands retreating into the pockets of your white coat. Leigh takes a deep breath, steeling herself for what she knows will be a difficult conversation.

“I recently found out that my husband was cheating on me,” she says, her green eyes boring into yours. “With you.” Or the one where you fall in love with the widow of an ex-lover you never knew was married.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 6k+ | Warnings: None for now | A/N: I wrote about 30k words of the Succession Wanda but hit a wall in terms of plot progression. So that's on hold. Allow me to apologize with this two-shot. P.S. I've always wanted to write for Leigh, and this idea came out of nowhere. Loosely based on canon.

Masterlist | Next Part

-

Leigh wakes up in a bed that’s not hers for the first time in months, and the unfamiliar scent of freshly cut grass and cedarwood almost immediately overwhelms her senses, suffocating her with its cloying sweetness.

“Jules?” she croaks out, her mind clawing its way through the fog. When it lifts a few seconds later, Leigh realizes where she is and what she’s done.

And how she’s very, very naked underneath the sheets. 

The person lying next to her in the bed starts to move. Right away, she knows it's not her sister, unless she's somehow caught up in a prank she doesn't find amusing at all. And so, she braces herself for her dead husband’s brother's voice to shatter the silence.

But it never comes. Instead, an arm drapes itself across her stomach, pulling her towards warmth. Leigh gets the sudden urge to vomit, except she skipped dinner and there isn’t anything to bring up. Last night, in a desperate attempt to fill the void left by Matt's absence, she had reached out to someone she shouldn't have. Someone Leigh didn’t even like to begin with. A knot tightens further in her stomach as she considers what her husband’s ghost would think. 

Would he approve? Would he feel betrayed or disgusted as she does?

Careful not to disturb Danny, who still sleeps soundly beside her, Leigh slips out of bed with the grace of a cat. She gathers her clothes from the floor and dresses herself with heavy limbs, each garment reminding her of how Danny had taken them off her body. 

As messed up as it sounds, Leigh can't help but draw parallels between him and Matt. They share the same blood, but there's not a single trait in Danny that triggers memories of Matt. With Danny, it's all about his own desires, his movements reflecting his wants. But with Matt, it's like he's always bending to Leigh’s will, submitting to her.

It tears Leigh’s heart anew. 

As she finishes dressing, Leigh glances around searching for her watch. She second-guesses whether she even wore it last night, the disarray of her thoughts mirrored in the disarray of the room. Her eyes scan the bedside table, the floor, and the dresser, but there's no sign of the timepiece.

A sudden sound from Danny startles her, and she freezes in place. She doesn't believe she can prevent herself from literally bolting out of the house if he so much as breathes her name. She’s rooted in her spot however, waiting for his breathing to steady, her heart pounding in her ears. Only when she's certain he's in a deep slumber does she release a pent-up breath, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. In that moment, she mentally curses herself once more, acutely aware of the mess she's created, before tiptoeing towards the bedroom door and abandoning the search for her watch altogether.

As she considers her options, she entertains the idea of escaping town altogether. Maybe if she leaves, she can avoid Danny for the coming days, possibly forever. Leigh wonders if she ever made Matt feel this trapped, inadvertently pushing him to leave in the only way he knew she could never follow.

-

Several days after ignoring Danny’s calls and attempts to talk to her, he retaliates by telling her the most absurd thing about his brother.

He tells Leigh she wasn’t the only one. There had been two others in the last year. 

And the last one, he fell for hard. Or at least that’s what Danny believes.

“I don’t believe you,” she says, her eyes beginning to sting a little. “If you think making me hate Matt would change my mind about us, then—”

“I’m not trying to manipulate you, Leigh,” Danny interrupts calmly, shaking his head. “I just believe you deserve to know the truth. Maybe it'll help you stop blaming yourself and move on.”

“It just seems a little too convenient that this 'truth' works in your favor to tarnish Matt's reputation, doesn't it?” Leigh points out with a humorless smile. She’s always thought the worst of Danny, but she never imagined he’d go as far as fabricating a story just to get her on his side.

“I understand your skepticism, I do. I couldn’t believe it at first either,” he says, his gaze dropping to the ground as if the transgression he’s confessing were his own, not Matt’s. “But think about it. Have you ever walked in on Matt just as he's ending a call? Noticed how he's suddenly started spending more time at work, consistently twice a week? And what about his sudden interest in going to the gym and being conscious about what he eats? These are all signs, Leigh.”

His words push her to think about it, even though she doesn't want to. Leigh starts to reflect on how Matt had stopped leaving his phone unattended during showers, how he had suddenly logged off his social media accounts from her laptop, or the noticeable enhancement of his physique—all juxtaposed against a lingering decrease in his appetite for intimacy with his wife.

“I…” Leigh hesitates, searching for a rebuttal but finding none. Then Danny gives her a look—one of pity and longing that makes her want to crawl out of her skin—and suddenly she finds herself vehemently denying all of it.

“I still don’t believe you,” she says, desperately clinging to the last shreds of the illusion she had crafted around her marriage.

Danny's expression remains unreadable and it drives her further up the wall. “Fine. Believe what you want, Leigh. I'm just trying to look out for you.”

Leigh's jaw tightens. “Regardless of what you say—whether it’s real or not—I know what I want, and it's not to be with you.”

He keeps up the stony facade, opting instead to pull a card out of his wallet and hand it to her. Leigh accepts the card, her fingers quivering, as a solitary tear finally breaks free and trails down her cheek.

Danny begins to reach out, intending to brush away her tear, but hesitates at the last moment, withdrawing his hand. 

“See for yourself. Goodbye, Leigh.”

-

Just two days later, Leigh finds herself in front of the small animal clinic you own, situated a short walk away from Beautiful Beast—the fitness studio her mom owns and where she works. 

Though the sun hangs low in the sky, she's been awake long before it began to rise. She waits for the receptionist to flip the sign from “Sorry, we’re closed” to “Come in, we’re open,” ignoring the curious glance directed her way when the receptionist notices she isn’t accompanied by a furry companion. With a determined smile on her lips, Leigh pushes open the door and steps into the clinic knowing she'll leave it with answers—whatever they might be.

The receptionist looks up from her computer, her expression shifting from curiosity to concern when she sees the look on Leigh's face. “Can I help you?” 

Leigh clears her throat, trying to steady her voice. She tells her she’s looking for you, her words coming out in a rush.

The receptionist furrows her brow. “Do you have an appointment?”

Leigh shakes her head, blinking rapidly as she comes up with an excuse. “No, it's... it's urgent,” she stammers. “I need to speak to her right away.”

The receptionist appears mildly annoyed, but it doesn’t faze Leigh in the slightest. “I'll check if she's available. Please take a seat,” she says.

Leigh nods mutely and sinks into one of the chairs. She clasps her hands together tightly in her lap, trying to quell the rising tide of panic threatening to consume her. She imagines Matt’s ghost watching her this very second, frowning at her doubts about their relationship by coming here in the first place. 

And what if she’s wrong? What if Matt wasn’t cheating on her after all? But Leigh had to come here to put the issue to rest. Matt would understand why she needs to do this. He always did. 

A few moments later, the door behind the reception desk opens and the receptionist emerges from it, motioning for Leigh to enter. 

Leigh finds you standing behind your desk, your back to her, arranging a stack of medical records on the shelf.

“Dr. Y/N?” Leigh calls out softly.

You turn around at the sound of her voice, and when she sees you for the first time, Leigh immediately knows.

Danny was telling the truth. It takes everything in her not to break down in front of a stranger her husband fell in love with.

You, however, don’t recognize the woman standing before you, thinking perhaps she's simply one of your past clients. You offer Leigh a contrite smile. “You wanted to see me? Miss…?”

“Leigh Shaw.”

The name doesn’t ring a bell either, but you keep a friendly smile on your face. 

Leigh hesitates for a moment before continuing, her voice sounding fragile. “I need to talk to you about my husband,” she says, studying your clueless face. You're stunning and accomplished—a doctor and a businesswoman. You have a smile that could brighten even the darkest room.

Matt never stood a chance, did he?

“I'm sorry, I'm not sure I understand,” you say, hands retreating into the pockets of your white coat.

Leigh takes a deep breath, steeling herself for what she knows will be a difficult conversation. 

“I recently found out that my husband was cheating on me,” she says, her green eyes boring into yours. “With you.”

-

After leaving your clinic, Leigh heads straight to Matt’s grave, stomping angrily on the sparse sheet of grass that has begun to sprout from his resting place.

“You're such a fucking liar!” she spits out at the unsusceptible headstone, the heat of fury spreading through her veins and to every molecule in her body. The cold wind lashes through her hair as Leigh drops to her knees, feeling like the entire world is bearing down on her. She reaches out to touch the cold marble of the headstone, still seeking solace from the one who caused her so much hurt.

“Why, Matt?”

She knows there will be no answers—only the cold silence of death.

Leigh feels a surge of anger rise within her once more as she recalls the way you looked at her—the pain in your eyes when she revealed to you that Matt had died. What you two had was real, as real as what she had with him. She had been hoping it was at least just a fling, but alas, she couldn’t be further from her assumptions.

“I can't believe I ever loved you,” Leigh mutters bitterly. She wants to scream, to rage against the injustice of it all. But all she can do is clutch at the grass beneath her, her nails digging into the earth as if trying to anchor herself against the torrent of pain crippling her chest. Tears stream down her face as she finally collapses to the ground, assuming a fetal position, whispering, “I can't believe I still do.”

-

You continue to stare at the space that Leigh previously occupied for a good ten minutes, not moving an inch from where you stood—shocked, hurt, confused. Matt, the man you had been seeing, was dead. And not just dead, but married. Married to someone else, someone named Leigh Shaw, a name so important but he managed to hide from you for weeks. 

Matt had never mentioned a wife, never wore a ring, never hinted at the existence of someone waiting for him at home. If he had, you would never have let him get as close to you like he did. You've always respected boundaries and families—and now you've discovered that unwittingly, you've destroyed one.

Leigh's departure was swift, just as soon as you confessed to having feelings for her husband and how Matt reciprocated those same feelings. Leigh, ruthless in her questioning, demanded to know if you had slept with Matt. You swore you never did, detailing how Matt abruptly ghosted you after your first kiss, leaving you with nothing but unanswered texts and missed calls. 

You wanted so badly for Leigh to believe you, and you think she did. However, none of it mattered in the end. He cheated all the same. He hurt the woman he made a promise to love and stay faithful to. 

Because of you.

You feel sickened by your own naivety; by the way you have allowed yourself to be fooled by his lies. And yet, amidst the anger and self-recrimination, there is a profound sense of loss. Despite the circumstances of your relationship, you had cared for Matt deeply. Maybe even loved him.

But how much of it was real? How much of it was not about him running from his problems with his wife and using you as a distraction? The ease with which he slipped out of your life suddenly fits into place.

While his passing deeply rattled you, it's now largely overshadowed by thoughts of his widow.

Leigh Shaw.

Earlier, even though you said sorry over and over, it felt like it wasn't enough, and you wanted to do more to make her feel better. What stopped you was the realization that you're likely the last person she would want comfort from. A sense of helplessness washes over you as you come to the conclusion that there's nothing you can do to undo the damage that's been done. Matt is gone, and Leigh's world has been shattered in ways you can't even begin to imagine. 

Moving on from Matt is something you know you could do. He wasn’t the first person to break your heart, be it through deceit or demise. But the situation with Leigh is unfamiliar territory.

How do you fix this for her? 

Will she even let you?

-

When Leigh tells Jules about Matt’s infidelity, her sister fixates on the detail that she slept with Danny. It’s not the response Leigh expected. She anticipated shock, and maybe even a bit of outrage on her behalf. But instead, Jules latches onto the one detail that seems to pale in comparison to the enormity of Matt's betrayal.

“But how could you?” Jules asks, her voice incredulous as she chews on a dumpling. “How could you sleep with Danny?”

Faced with her sister's disapproval, Leigh finds herself clamming up. “Are you kidding? I just told you that Matt was cheating on me, and your response is to judge me for hooking up with a single guy while I'm single?” Leigh retorts, hastily wiping her lips with a napkin.

Jules just shakes her head, putting down her chopsticks. “Leigh, I get it. Matt’s betrayal is awful, and you have every right to be angry. But the ‘single guy’ you hooked up with isn't just any guy, and you know it. You don't think it's weird? What would people think? That all this time, sleeping with your husband’s brother has always been an option?”

Leigh's eyes widen in shock, and for a moment, she's speechless. She hadn't—didn't want to entertain the idea of what sleeping with Danny would imply. She was chasing a feeling; any feeling that wasn’t emptiness. And with Danny, she did feel something, even if it was regret and shame. At least it proved she was still capable of feeling at all.

“It… just happened,” Leigh murmurs, rubbing her temples. Hollowness and migraines, she's almost forgotten.

“And? Is it going to be a ‘thing’?” Jules probes, eyebrows raised.

Leigh lifts her gaze, biting back a defensive retort. Instead she simply says, “Absolutely not.”

Jules seems satisfied with that, knocking back the rest of her beer. “Good.”

But as Jules moves on, Leigh’s left stewing in her own thoughts. Telling Jules felt like yelling into a void—exhausting and utterly pointless. Now she’s dreading the thought of breaking the news to Drew. If Jules’ reaction was any indication, she’s in for another round of disappointment. 

Being a young widow already sets her apart, but nothing makes her feel more alone than her family's inability to truly grasp her grief. She guesses she's been feeling alone for years, long before Matt came into her life and subsequently left it.

Jules, catching the tail end of Leigh's distant look, leans in and asks, “So, what's the plan now? You still going to that grief counseling group? Danny's been showing up there, right?”

Leigh's gaze sharpens, a bit taken aback by the sudden shift back to practicalities. “Are you asking about my plans with Danny? Because I already told you, that's over. I'm never seeing him again.”

Jules raises her hands in a placating gesture, mindful that one wrong move could tip Leigh over the edge for good. “Not really, no. I'm asking if you're still keen on processing your grief. Now that it turns out Matt was... well, a snake.”

Jules calling Matt a snake doesn't sit well with Leigh even with his cheating coming to light. But she supposes it's Jules' way of being on her side every once in a while. It's a clumsy attempt, but an attempt nonetheless.

“Yeah, I'm still going,” Leigh finally says, her gaze dropping to her lap before meeting Jules' eyes again. “Not for Danny, not for anyone else, but for me. Turns out, finding out your rotting husband was living a double life does a number on you. Who knew, right?”

Jules cracks a small, rueful smile at that and says, “Who knew indeed.”

Leigh thinks back to the time when she believed she knew Matt inside and out, a belief so deeply ingrained it felt like a cornerstone of her identity as his wife. She prided herself on their connection, convinced that they shared everything—every thought, every fear, every dream. It was a pride rooted in the belief that she knew him better than anyone else could, and he, her, in the same intimate manner.

It was the kind of recognition that’s not only about knowing his favorite color or the way he took his coffee. It’s deeper and more layered. She knew the exact tone of voice he'd use when he was about to apologize, the look in his eyes when he was holding back tears, the subtle shift in his posture when he was trying to be braver than he felt. And she thought he knew her just as intricately—the silent language of her sighs, the meaning behind her quietest smiles, the small, everyday details that they believed only they could understand about each other.

“It's hard, you know? Feeling like you're mourning someone who never really existed,” Leigh mumbles after a long pause.

“Yeah, I can't even imagine,” Jules responds, reaching across the table to give Leigh's hand a brief squeeze. “But I'm here, okay? Even if I don't always get it right.”

Jules, Drew, Danny, her mom—all of them—rarely get it right. It has always been Matt. 

He has always been all she has and needed. 

Even if Leigh wasn't aware that she was probably just getting his scraps.

-

Maybe it was me, Leigh keeps thinking over the next several days. Maybe I pushed him to it.

It doesn’t help that there’s a new member who has also been widowed, and she’s sharing about her late husband who had quite a number of mistresses throughout their eighteen years of marriage.

Leigh listens, her fingers twisted together in her lap, as the woman talks about the signs she missed, the lies she believed.

“I just keep thinking,” the woman's voice breaks, “if I'd been more attentive, more... I don't know, less demanding, maybe things would've been different.”

Maybe it was me, Leigh keeps screaming inside. Maybe I pushed him to it.

-

It took Leigh a long time to return to the apartment she shared with Matt after his passing. 

Mostly, it's because Leigh found it difficult to confront the scattered remnants of him that would remain untouched in his absence. No longer would he be picking up his favorite shirt or completing another page of his crossword puzzle book. Yet, these belongings would remain his, just as Leigh felt she still belonged to him.

So it’s ironic that now, surrounded by the same belongings in her bedroom at her mother’s home, she's being overwhelmed by the impulse to turn them all into ashes. In a sudden frenzy, Leigh grabs a box and begins to throw everything inside. The sound of her ragged breathing fills the room, only matched by the soft thuds of objects landing in the cardboard. 

“Stupid fucking toys!” she shouts, tossing a figurine with more force than necessary.

“And this shirt—what were you thinking?” She grabs a garishly patterned fabric, shaking it at the empty air as if expecting an answer.

Her voice cracks, “You're not even here, and you're driving me crazy!”

As Leigh's wrath burns through the remnants of Matt’s life, her thoughts take a dark turn. The things he owned, the pieces of his life flying from her hand—it all leads her back to the one person who had a piece of him, a piece that was never hers.

The thought of your face, the one that belonged to him too at one point, flashes in her mind, and she's on the edge of losing all control. 

If only Leigh could throw you into the box too.

Finally, she finds the book he gave her for her last birthday, the one she never read, and for a moment, her movements pause. Then, with a cry of anguish, she tosses it in as well. When the box is full, she kicks it. Once, twice, thrice—each kick releasing a burst of pent-up fury until she's gasping for breath.

A knock at the door startles her. It's soft but persistent, making it obvious that whoever is outside has heard the commotion in her room. “Leigh, honey, are you done in there?” Amy's voice seeps through the wood.

Leigh wipes at her eyes. “Almost. I, uh… just give me a minute,” she calls back. She’s not done—not really. But she’ll probably set the house on fire if she doesn’t stop here.

Pushing herself up, Leigh opens the door. She knows the sight she presents isn't pretty—eyes swollen red, nose a mess, and those dark circles. But her mom has seen this look more times than either would care to count.

“You okay?” her mom asks, though the answer's written all over Leigh's face.

Leigh shakes her head, no energy to pretend.

“Want some breakfast?”

Again, “No,” slips out.

Then, “Need a ride to the studio?” her mom tries again.

“Yes,” Leigh finds herself saying, clinging to the offer like a lifeline, a small acknowledgment that life, somehow, must go on.

-

The following day, Leigh looks at the box, then at everything around her. She mutters, “Screw this,” and starts pulling everything out of the box, putting it all back where it came from.

-

Leigh's back at running, not because she loves it, but because the sun insists on poking her awake before the rest of the world stirs. It's an old hobby, dusted off to fill the gaping mornings before her first yoga class. 

It’s easy to do because she realizes she’s good at it. Leigh’s only been at it for just a couple of weeks and already she's feeling fitter, faster. She likes the pain too, not being aware before that there are different kinds of pain, and some of them do feel good—addicting even. 

Mid-thought, her routine jog takes a wild left turn: stranded in the middle of the bustling traffic is a French Bulldog, looking decidedly out of place. Ignoring the honks and the near misses, Leigh bolts across the street. It's a bit of a mad dash, dodging cars that are swerving and braking hard. She scoops him up in her arms and doesn’t stop to think about the close calls. 

It hits her then—she's surprised at her own gutsiness, not even pausing to think that she could've been clipped by a car not paying attention. Maybe all this time spent wrestling with thoughts of death has brought her to a strange peace with it and is no longer scared of it. It's like she's danced with death so much, it's just another shadow she passes by—not something that paralyzes her in place anymore.

Leigh’s not sure if being this fearless is actually a good thing though.

After cooling her heels on the sidewalk for half an hour, with no owner in sight, she shrugs and decides he’s coming home with her.

Jules gives her a scrutinizing look the moment she walks in. “What, you went out for a run and decided to get a dog?”

“Rescue mission,” Leigh shoots back, setting the dog down. “Found him in the middle of Second Street. Seems he’s lost.”

Jules doesn't miss a beat, heading straight for the newcomer. She kneels, her hands gently petting the dog, her eyes softening in a way that Leigh rarely sees. The dog, clearly pleased with the attention, wags its tail vigorously. Her eyes are practically giving her away, so it sounds almost funny when she looks up at Leigh and says, “Just don't get too attached, okay?”

“I won’t, which is why I named him Visitor. It’s temporary,” Leigh says with a smile, looking very proud of the name she came up with.

Jules chuckles, standing up and brushing off her knees. “Nerd. Matt would've gotten a kick out of that.”

The room just freezes at the mention of his name. Talking about Matt is like walking into a glass door you didn't see.

Jules tries to backpedal, “Hey, sorry, I—” But Leigh's quick to brush it off with a shrug. 

“Don't worry about it. Let's just figure out where Visitor here belongs, okay?”

As they refocus on Visitor, Jules can't help but notice the way the dog favors one leg as he trots over to sit snugly between Leigh's legs, looking up at her with those big, trusting eyes. “Looks like he's got a bit of a limp,” Jules points out.

Leigh frowns and leans down to get a closer look, her fingers gently probing around Visitor's leg until she finds a tender spot. The moment she applies a little pressure, Visitor yelps, pulling away sharply and retreating a few steps.

Jules winces at the reaction. “Yeah, that's not good. Maybe we should take him to a vet?”

Leigh can barely hold back a grimace as her brain immediately links you to the situation.

“What's wrong?” Jules notices the sudden shift in Leigh’s mood. “There's St. Mary's Animal Clinic nearby. I heard they're great.”

That's your clinic. Leigh's throat tightens at the thought, the memories of her visit flooding back. “Are there others around here?”

Jules looks puzzled at the question. “I mean, I can look it up, but what's wrong with St. Mary's?”

Leigh considers whether she should tell Jules about meeting you. Part of her really knows it’s unfair to dislike you, especially if you genuinely didn't know Matt was married. But she knows Jules too well—tell her, and it'll turn into a whole thing. Leigh's not sure she's up for that drama.

Despite her reservations, Leigh decides to bite the bullet, her curiosity getting the better of her. Besides, if she can’t be brave enough to talk about this in her counseling group, she should probably at least tell Jules.

“Actually, Jules,” Leigh begins, “St. Mary's Animal Clinic is where... where she works.”

Jules's eyes widen in shock, her hand flying to her mouth. “Wait, you mean... you mean her, as in…?” she stammers, disbelief written all over her face.

“Yup,” Leigh confirms, smacking her lips forcefully. 

“Oh my god—that bitch,” Jules spits out, her voice dripping with disdain before Leigh can even brace for impact.

“She didn’t know Matt’s married,” Leigh clarifies quickly.

“And you bought that?”

“I had a feeling she was telling the truth. Besides, I can’t imagine Matt being that brazen to pursue someone while married. He can be a little self-righteous sometimes,” Leigh says, only half-sure of her statement. Recently, she has to remind herself that maybe she never really knew him at all.

Then, an idea sparks in Jules's mind. “You know what?” she says, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Maybe this is a good opportunity. After all, she owes you one, right? Maybe she'll treat Visitor for free, to make up for being... well, you know.”

Leigh rubs her nose, skeptical of the idea. “I don't know, Jules. I don't want to impose…”

Jules leans in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “I mean, if she's the reason you're hurting, maybe she should make it right?”

She isn't hurting because of you, not directly. That's why Jules’ suggestion hangs in the air, unappealing. Leigh remembers the pity in your eyes from that morning, and she doesn't want it. She doesn't want anything from you at all. Her resolve instantly hardens like ice. 

“No,” Leigh finally says. “I don't want her charity. I'll pay for Visitor's bills myself. And I'll keep the receipts for when his real owners show up.” It's a decision that feels surprisingly empowering, a small reclaiming of control in a world that's felt off-kilter for too long.

Jules merely sighs; she knows better than to push Leigh when her mind’s made up. 

“Have it your way.”

-

Leigh brings Visitor to St. Mary’s the very next day.

There's a certain set to her jaw, a readiness for something less than pleasant. She doesn’t need to go through reception this time because she spots you right away, escorting a client to the door, cradling their puppy in your arms. Seeing you with a pet makes Leigh realize why you’ve chosen this profession. You fit right in among the animals, she muses bitterly.

It's with a sense of satisfaction that she watches your smile dissipate as soon as your eyes land on hers. 

She strides confidently towards you, dog in arms, forcing you to quickly hand off the puppy back to its owner. Yet, you recover with a swiftness that's begrudgingly admirable as you give her a look that’s equal parts professional and friendly—like you were actually looking forward to seeing her again.

“Good morning, Leigh. How can I help you?”

Without a word, Leigh extends the dog she’s carrying towards you, a silent transfer of trust, or perhaps, necessity. You gesture towards the consultation room, an invitation she accepts with a terse nod, following you into the space where you effortlessly shift into doctor mode.

As you begin to charm her dog, she can't help but narrow her eyes. It irks her, watching Visitor take to you instantly, as if you were old friends. “What's his name?” you ask, looking up at Leigh.

“Visitor.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the name, just in time for your irises to capture the light seeping through the office blinds. They glow a hazel-brown, disarmingly so. Leigh forces herself to focus back on the purpose of her visit. 

Leigh continues, “He’s limping on his left hind leg. I’d appreciate it if you can prescribe him something. I'll try not to take up too much of your time.”

Ignoring the undercurrent of Leigh's insinuation, your attention remains undividedly on Visitor. The well-being of the dog before you eclipses any personal sentiments, as it always does. 

“I'm sorry, but before we can consider any medication, I need to examine him thoroughly. It's possible he might require some lab tests to rule out anything serious,” you tell her. Despite sounding apologetic, Leigh interprets it as your polite way of telling her to fuck off and let you do your job.

As you palpate the dog's leg carefully, you begin your routine questions. “Can you tell me his birthday? Any vaccination history?”

They’re basic, but they seem to catch Leigh off guard anyway. “He’s not mine. I found him on the street yesterday,” she reveals with a reluctant sigh.

The news prompts a more detailed response from you. 

“I see. In that case, we should definitely line up some tests for Visitor. We need to ensure he doesn't have distemper or any other airborne virus that could be affecting his mobility,” you suggest, already mentally cataloging the necessary procedures.

You start detailing the tests you intend to perform, explaining their purposes and associated costs. Leigh is clearly deluged by it all and you decide to take pity on the poor woman by adding that it’s still up to her which tests to proceed with, if any at all.

“Your call, Leigh,” you tell her.

Leigh can't shake off the vibe that you're throwing a gauntlet down in front of her. It's like her inner competitor wakes up, refusing to back down. “Do all of them,” she declares, tipping her chin up towards you. “Whatever you think is best.”

“That’s a good decision. We’ll take care of it right away,” you say, already picking up the phone to call the reception for assistance. 

Leigh's still trying to get a read on you. Was her arm twisted into this choice, or did you genuinely have Visitor's best interest at heart? She's not about to hand out trust like free samples, especially when she could end up misjudging you. It’s a tricky spot, especially because she’s clearly been wrong before.

-

The tests take their time, roughly an hour, after which Leigh finds herself pacing the lobby. An additional quarter-hour trickles by before the receptionist finally calls her back into the consultation room.

“Good news,” you start, making sure to catch her eye. She meets your look briefly before her attention shifts to Visitor. “It's only a sprain. The X-ray revealed no breaks or other issues. But,” you pause, checking to see if she's still fully engaged, “his blood tests indicated a low platelet count and evidence of an infection.”

Leigh listens intently, nodding along.

You explain what this means in a clear, concise manner, avoiding medical jargon as much as possible. “It's something we can manage with medication. I'll prescribe some antibiotics for the infection and pain medication to help with his discomfort. It's important that he completes the course of antibiotics to clear the infection completely.”

You watch Leigh closely, gauging her reaction and ready to answer any questions she might have. “We'll need to keep an eye on his platelet count, so I'd like to schedule a follow-up visit next week. This will also give us a chance to check how his leg is healing.”

“Will he be okay?” she asks without looking up from Visitor, busy scratching behind his ears.

“He'll be just fine,” you reassure her, adding, “Any questions about what we discussed?”

Leigh stays silent and you take it as your cue that she doesn’t have any thoughts on the matter. As she wraps up without saying much more, you realize it's time to wrap things up too. But there's something niggling at you, something that's been on your mind since the last time she was here. You're about to let her go, but then, out of nowhere, you feel this urge to clear the air about that whole mess with Matt. 

“So, uhm, about the other week when you…” you trail off, suddenly feeling like you're balancing on a tightrope without a net. You’re not so easily spooked by confrontations, but Leigh makes you nervous in a way you can’t explain. “I guess I just wanted to say sorry… for your loss, and for—”

“Does he really need to take pain medication for seven days?” Leigh cuts you off suddenly. It’s sharp enough for you to shut your mouth and abandon your attempt to get personal.

“Yes, the full course is important to ensure he's comfortable and that the inflammation goes down properly. It's just as crucial as the antibiotics for his recovery…”

Leigh nods, carefully scooping Visitor into her arms, preparing to leave.

You try one last time. “Leigh, I really am sorry–”

“I’ll see you next week, Dr. Y/L/N,” she says dismissively and then she’s gone.

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part fourteen

summary: you showed him colours he knows he can't see with anyone else.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.1k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: finally reunited ahh!! (also a note from me while i'm trying to find pics for the header: damn this dude does not look happy very often huh) (okay so update we're settling for a flashback photo bc coryo in his curls era does not SMILE bruh)

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

"Just right here." Lucy Gray stops on the gravel road, nodding up to the house in front of them.

"Okay, sweet." Sejanus smiles, already heading for the front porch but she grabs his arm, stopping him as Coryo just stares at the house, going slightly pale.

"Sejanus, how about you and I go figure out where you guys will stay, and come back for Coriolanus in a bit?" She offers, nodding toward him.

"Oh- uh, yes. Yeah. Good idea." He agrees, picking up quickly on what she meant. Coryo still hasn't said a word, just staring at the run-down shack that apparently was your home. It was clear that efforts were made to maintain the home, the fence had been patched in several places and there were flower beds outside. From what he knew about your family, that would make sense.

"Coriolanus?" Lucy Gray draws his attention again. "We're going to go find you a place to stay, and we'll come back for you in a bit. Does that sound okay?"

"Yeah that's... that's perfect. Thank you." He nods, in a trance-like state as he makes his way up to the door through some only slightly overgrown grass, before he has the chance to second-guess himself.

"He didn't even listen, did he?" Lucy Gray says, both of them watching him from the street.

"Not at all, no."

He can hear the two of them chatting as they disappear back down the road, and he looks for a doorbell that doesn't seem to be there, just settling for a knock instead. He waits a few moments after knocking on the wood, about to do it again when he hears a woman's voice come from inside. "One moment, I'll be right there!"

"I got it, Ma!" Comes from right behind the door as footsteps approach and it's swung open, a young boy standing there. "Hi." He says, eyeing Coryo up and down. It must be your brother.

"Uh, hi." He clears his throat. "Is Y/N here?"

"No, not right now." The boy answers. "Can I take a message for her?"

"Oh, well, my name is Coriolanus Snow, and-"

"Hold on! I'm coming!" The woman's voice comes again, much more excited as she rounds the corner from the hall, brushing her hands off on her apron. "You're Coriolanus?" She asks, a polite but delighted grin on her face as she gets closer.

"Yes, Ma'am." He nods in confirmation, a smile growing on his face. You look so much like your mother.

"Oh my goodness, come in, please! I didn't recognize you!" She gently moves her son out of the way, who is still staring at him with something unwelcoming behind his eyes. As soon as Coryo steps into the home, she's wrapping her arms around him in a hug. "Wow, it is so lovely to meet you! You came a very long way!"

"I did." He chuckles, hugging her back with as much politeness as he can muster behind shaking hands and a pale face.

"Come sit, Y/N will be home within the hour. She'll be just thrilled to see you." She pulls away, gesturing for him to follow her into the living area. "Are you hungry? You must be starving. Let me grab you something."  Your mother says, mostly to herself as he sits down on the couch.

"That would be great, thank you." He smiles, still nervous as he tries to adjust his posture on the slightly uncomfortable sofa, looking around. In reality, he hadn't been "starving" for some time now. It felt good to have a consistently filled fridge all the time, but he has hardly eaten since they left the Capitol. He was too nervous to even think about it.

"Why did you come here?" Your brother asks, making Coryo look away from the family photos that adorned the walls. Most of the frames were broken, photos blurry, but he could tell that to your family that didn't matter.

"I hadn't heard from her. I wanted to make sure she was doing okay." Coryo answers, stiffened by your brother's somewhat hostile energy and the thought of getting to see you so soon. Had you told him something you didn't tell your mother? Probably that he killed that boy, but it seemed unlike you to leave out the part where he had no choice. Unless Tigris was wrong.

Unless you still didn't see it that way.

Your brother hums, sitting in the chair across from the couch and leaning his elbows on his knees. To Coryo, this felt like an interrogation. Coming from a teenager, it was almost cute.

"Lennox, Honey, can you come help me for just a moment?" His mother calls him from the kitchen and he's shooting up again, glaring at Coryo as he walks away. He was confused, today alone he's gotten so many mixed signals on your feelings.

You stuck out the day at work, even though while you were reshelving returns you had to rush to the bathroom in the back to vomit after reading the back cover of an old book about a man who hunted humans. You were hoping by now this would happen less and less, but leaving the house had only made it worse. Getting a job was a mistake and you knew that, but your family was hardly scraping by before you were torn from your life- but neither of your parents could work the whole time you were gone. They were sick about it. Your mom still couldn't work, and you knew your father rarely ever slept these days.

You tried to hand over the winnings Coryo's Dean had given you as soon as you got home, holding it out to your parents with trembling hands as they opened the locked door for you. They wanted none of it. Not a dollar from your three thousand, which you had spent time counting and recounting on the train. They only wanted you home. You had hoped it would give you something else to talk about- that you could smile and be proud that you won and that now your family could live comfortably, at least for a little while. The idea almost made it worth it. As you counted your prize under the dim lighting in the train car, you had wondered if you would do it again for them. The money didn't make saying hello again any easier, though, and you cried for what must have been hours on the porch of your family home, the four of you tangled together in a hug bound together by tears.

It was hard to let go, but when they had, finally, your mother shoved the money back into your pocket and told you to save it. One day, you could buy your own home with it, and that wasn't a bad idea.

All you could do for them now that your money sat in a jar in your closet, the best you could do, was convince them you were fine enough for you all to move on and forget about it. The additional income of getting your own job helped, too. So, when your boss tried to send you home, you declined, and five o'clock couldn't have come fast enough.

You drink water out of an old jam jar on the way home, washing the taste of bile out of the back of your mouth. The fresh air made a world of difference. As much as you adored the smell of books, it got stuffy in there, especially in the summers. Even with the sun beating down on your shoulders over your button-up shirt, you felt better just making the walk home every day. The breeze blowing through the trees, the familiar paths beneath your feet, it was one of the very few things that could ground you in the reality that now, you were safe. That, and the meadow behind your house at night time. Reading under lantern light with the stars overhead and your family at your side, you never felt more real. It was truly over.

That's what you would do tonight, you decided, after a long nap following an unfortunate day. At the end of every unfortunate day, you still had that, and that meant the world to you.

"Oh! Here's Tybalt." Your mom smiles, now comfortable on the couch next to Coriolanus as the cat saunters into the living room, jumping up into the space between them. "This is Y/N's cat, she calls him Tybs." She explains, tears forming in her eyes as the cat crawls onto her lap and she quickly blinks them away, but he had already noticed by then.

"She told me about him." Coryo says, placing his now empty tea cup on the coffee table in front of them.

"Of course..." She chuckles sadly. "He took real good care of us while she was away. On particularly... hard nights," She clears her throat. "He would come out into the living room with her father and I and sit with us, he can purr like no ones business, you know, and then after a while, he would run over to our room there and meow at us. Made sure we got to bed. Then curl up with us and just made sure we knew that.... she was still with us."

A tear falls as she speaks and she laughs nervously, quickly brushing it away. "Gosh, I am so sorry..." She quickly dismisses it. "We have company and I'm crying like a little girl. Forgive me..."

"No, it's quite alright." Coryo insists, shaking his head. Of course, he was worried about you in the arena and every night up until then, but he never entertained the idea of what it was like for your family even though he knew about them. That under the same sky, they were sitting here in this very home praying that you might return. Now, he could see it, and you were the lucky one who made it home. He hoped he wouldn't have to see Jessup's family while he was here. "It must have been awful for you."

"Indeed." She nods, wiping her cheek again. "But, you know, it means so much to us that she had someone there to look after her." She smiles at him. It's genuine. Sad, but full of gratitude. He would no longer wonder where you got that habit from. "I decided I wouldn't be watching anything, but her father insisted. He was out at a bar in town, the only one with televisions, then came rushing back in the door twenty minutes later and dragged us back there with him to watch. I didn't want to go but he said 'No, you need to see this. She's not alone. She has a friend.' So down we went, and they were playing reruns of the two of you being dropped into that cage. I just... She looked so comfortable with you. The way you looked at her we could see you cared, that she was human to you, and that you were there to help. I remember thinking for the first time that maybe she had a chance." She's accepted her tears now, reaching over from petting Tybalt to grasp the young man's hands in her own as she spoke.

Your brother scoffs as Coryo lets her hold onto his hands, a small smile forming on his face that's quickly torn away by Lennox's reaction. "Yeah, and then that other boy had to be the one to bring her something to eat after days."

"Hey!" Your mother gasps. "Lennox, get-" She prompts him to leave if he isn't going to be nice.

He rolls his eyes, getting up to leave.

"I didn't have anything to bring her besides a flower." Coryo finds himself stating, shocking even himself at the confession which halts your brother in his steps. He had never told anyone about the poverty he faced at home, but with them, he felt safe to. Something about knowing you assured him that they were not judgemental people. He clears his throat before explaining. "My family lost everything after the war. When I first met her, I also hadn't eaten in days. I gave her everything I could."

Lennox hums before leaving, either not convinced or embarrassed that he'd even made such a comment. Coryo couldn't tell.

"Coriolanus... I am so sorry." Your mother is quick to apologize, and he's embarrassed by the look of pity in her eyes. Pity from a woman who had, for almost a month, believed she had lost her child, and was still struggling with it today. He felt nothing but guilt.

"Well, I must tell you, your daughter saved us from that." He tries to lift her spirits as a confused expression paints itself into her features, but he doesn't get the chance to elaborate as they both turn at the sound of the front door opening.

"Ma!" You call out, closing the door behind you and kicking off your shoes, preparing your smile to tell her about the absolutely great day you just had.

Your mother stands quickly, patting the boys thigh gently and wipes her eyes. "Hi, Honey, how was your day?" She asks, smiling at him through red eyes.

"Come what come may, time and the hour runs through the roughest day." Your groaned response comes slightly muffled from the other room, and Coryo can hear you shuffling about.

"Oh, no. What happened?" Immediately your mother's tone shifts to worry, and Coryo wonders how it took her less than a second to understand.

"Nothing, Ma. All is fine." You call back, putting your bag down in the kitchen, and heading for the living room, gluing a smile back on. "Guess what I saw on the walk home! A ladybug, it landed right on my-" You freeze as you walk into the entryway, seeing your mother and your previous mentor just standing up next to her.

"Oh, I should have mentioned, we have company." Your mother smiles, already gathering the used dishes from the coffee table, and brushing past you to bring them into the kitchen. Likely, to give you two a chance to talk.

When Coryo lays his eyes on you for the first time again, he can swear his heart stops. Yours definitely does as nausea comes over you in a wave again, and your calculated smile drops.

You don't say anything, just staring with an expression unreadable to him. "Y/N, hi." He breathes, smiling at you. You look beautiful but tired, still. Still, that girl he watched in the arena, it was hard to believe that every part of you made it out. You weren't the same girl he saw for the first time in the reaping- you were more. More of you, and more of something else; hurt, if he had to guess.

"It's good to see you." He continues, his voice a gentle whisper that cuts through the awkward tension in the room. Your heart races, emotions swirling like a tempest within you. Coriolanus Snow, your mentor and friend who had guided you through your time in that Capitol and the games, is standing in your living room, looking both apologetic and hopeful.

"Coryo," You manage to say, voice barely above a whisper as you swallow the sickness rising in your throat. The memories flood back- everything awful you had gone through. Meeting him for the first time as he handed you a flower, sitting on opposite sides of the bars of your cage and talking long into the nights. Everything you had done, everything he had given you, the people you both hurt in the process. He takes a step closer, cautiously navigating the fragile space between you.

"I... What are you doing here?" You ask quietly, your eyes unable to meet his gaze. The room feels smaller, the walls closing in on you quickly.

He clears his throat, a nervous habit you remember well. "I wanted to see you," he says, his eyes pleading for understanding. "I didn't know what you were up to and how you were adjusting and... I was worried about you."

The weight of unspoken words lingers between you, and for a moment, neither of you knows how to bridge the gap that only a month of time has built. You had been away from him longer than you had known him, and facing him again, you were embarrassed. Scared. Coryo takes a deep breath, summoning the courage to express the weight of what he's carried in his mind for too long.

"I never stopped thinking about you," He confesses, sincerity etched across his face. "I tried sending letters but I didn't get any response."

The vulnerability in his eyes mirrors your own, and the air crackles with a shared sense of everything you want to say but just can't find the words. You can't help it as you feel over and over again the countless hours spent together in the lead-up to the worst days of your life.

Tentatively, he reaches for your hand, a silent plea for connection. As your fingers take his, warmth floods through you, dissolving the distance. "I missed you," he admits, his voice barely audible.

A rush of conflicting emotions surges within you- that same embarrassment, anger, hurt, but also a flicker of the fondness that never truly faded. "I missed you too," You admit, your voice breaking through the emotional dam, built up from fear and trauma and the stacks of books in your bedroom that held it back all this time.

With those words, the barriers crumble, and the room is filled with a pitiful silence. The weight of what you had both done begins to lift, replaced with the realization that he did honestly care for you, the way you did for him. As you look into each other's eyes, the connection is undeniable, evidence of a bond that time could never change. You would always be connected to him.

"Do you remember when I brought you that blanket?" He asks and you take in a sharp breath. The few pleasant memories you had of your time together were so often overthrown by the awful ones, these days. His eyes flicker quickly across your face. He looks as scared as you feel. "And I said I wish I could get to know you as you are, not as a tribute, and you said you would show me the stars."

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you nod, the nausea you felt steadily subsiding. "So you walk softly and look sweetly and say nothing. I am yours for the walk and especially when I walk away."

Coryo tilts his head at you, and smiles. That must have been a yes. "Please, don't walk away again." He whispers, and in that moment, he feels the tightness in his chest that carried him through the last month finally release.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl ,  @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie ,  @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @scorpiolystoned , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

[katskitoshi]

"CERTIFIED SOFT MOMENTS!" with the INAZUMANS from GENSHIN IMPACT.

synopsis: just some soft, sweet moments with some of the inazumans.

characters: ayaka, kuki, gorou, yoimiya, thoma, ayato, kazuha, and tomo (mostly separate) x gn!reader

includes: poly! kazutomo (i love them so you will too), sweet moments with some inazuma men and women!! ♡

--just watching ayaka dance. time seems to stop, the air seeming to cool around the two of you. she giggles nervously before slowly stepping into the water. drawing her fan out, she begins her angelic movements with little snowflakes and ice shards trailing her. your eyes follow her as she moves, love glazing them over. ayaka, your girlfriend, your future wife, seems so perfect in these moments that when your eyes meet, you can't draw them away -- and neither can she.

her dancing stops, but the world doesn't resume nor does the air warm. never breaking eye contact, ayaka slowly approaches you, and she takes your hand in her own. her usual ice-cold fingers feel so warm in your embrace. she leans in, then to your lips. a kiss that resumes time itself, warms the air, and sparks love once again between you.

--kuki, who rarely gets free-time from playing the gang's brain, finally finds comfort and relaxation with you. you take her to a secluded part of an inazuman forrest, where only you and her can exist. a little picnic is set up, all her favorite dishes and desserts presented before her on a soft blanket. when you show her, she's speechless, almost as if she doesn't like. perhaps you did to much? was it not enough? maybe she didn't like-

all the thoughts of what could have made her silent suddenly come to a close when her lips meet yours in a gentle moment. you hadn't even notice she'd taken off her mask. but since she did, you can see the clear smile on her face. "thank you so much for this, love. i guess you can really tell when i need a break." kuki begins to walk to the blanket, lowering herself on it before she pats the area besides her. "aren't you going to join me?"

--it's almost as if gorou is always busy or free, but never when you need him. he loves you dearly and always tries to make time for you but all his soldiers and kokomi work him like a dog. which is totally unfair! but you understand and try to help him out when you can. whether it's with his work, or a nice massage and meal when works done. he loves what you do for him, but gorou can't but feel guilty. he felt like he was the one working you! so, he decided to treat you to a nice night in the city once a festival rolls around.

each stand that catches your eye, he'll let you wander and stare as long as you want. and don't even think about pulling out your mora! gorou is sponsoring the whole night. any food or item you wish for he'll buy and carry for you. once the night is over, he'll drag you outside your little cottage and lay you down on the soft grass. you two can watch the twinkling stars, in silence or in conversation, but at some point gorou just turns to you and stares. the admiration in your eyes as he stares at the stars and the admiration in his eyes as he stares at his star.

--yoimiya who obviously brings you on dates to make, test, and watch her fireworks -- but also loves telling you stories during the process. she'll always bring you your favorite foods with a smile on her face as she drags you to some far off area from the village before gushing on about anything any everything. oh, did you see that butterfly? let her tell you a story she heard the other day about one she saw that was almost as beautiful as you!

just as you reach the mountaintop, the stars start to glimmer especially bright. yoimiya takes your hand and drags you close to the edge where she takes a seat and waits for you to accompany her. she sets the fireworks, and you two relish in the few silent moments before the loud booms start. crackles of [favorite color], red, orange, and pinks all explode against the dark sky.

your eyes focus on the fireworks, but yoimiya's eyes focus on you. she couldn't look away if she wanted too. of course the fireworks are beautiful, but your beauty alone surpasses anything she could make. yoimiya kisses your cheek and smiles before pulling your head to rest on her shoulders. the night quiets around you, the crackles and booms of the fireworks make a lovely melody in the background to aid the picture perfect moment yoimiya and you have created.

--the life of a nobleman's retainer seems to never come to a halt, but thoma will always put work to a pause for you. one day, he'll bring you out to the komore teahouse. taroumaru will greet you with loving barks before he leads you to a secluded room of the teahouse, where thoma awaits you. a shy smile is etched on his lips, and the table before him is covered in an abundance of dishes that makes your mouth water. as you take your seat across him, thoma thanks you for coming and tells you to help yourself.

as the night advances, his initial nervousness melts away. he'll start a conversation on just about anything; the weird odd jobs he's been doing, disputes he's resolved, even little secrets he's never thought to tell anyone! when he's with you, he stops being a retainer or the fixer, he just becomes thoma: your boyfriend. and he loves not having the additional weight of everything else on his shoulders.

--ayato never has free time but he'll sure as hell make some for his lover. perhaps you can join him in his office while he works for a bit? he'll let you rest your head on his lap, and if one of his hands are free, he'll even rub little shapes into your arm, or back, or whatever part of your body you'll let him. if you're not fancy to laying his head in his lap, perhaps you can sit on him instead. he won't mind. and, if that's also not to your liking, he's free to offer you to sit by him and let him rest his hand on your thigh. t

hese moments are sweet in itself, but this is just a little warm up for what he has planned later. once he's done working, he'll pick you up, and use one of his delicate gloved hands to cover your eyes as he leads you somewhere. soon enough, you're off the estate grounds and in the nearby forrest. he removes his hands from over your eyes, and behold: a tea party is set up. some sweets imported from across teyvat lay on the small table with

the finest inazuman tea already steamily brewed. off to the side there's a record player, playing some nice music the set the scene. still holding you, ayato gently places you in the seat across from his own, but does not seat himself. he notices you about to go for a pastry and dabs your hand away.

"allow me, darling." he grabbed the pastry you were going for and tilted your chin up with his other hand. "say, 'ahh~'" and you do, he places it in your mouth and you take a bite. his hand holding the pastry places it on the plate infant of you but he never lets go of your chin.

"ayato..?" "you have something right..." his pointer finger flicks a crumb off her cheek. and then he leans in and licks your lips before kissing you. ayato doesn't stop until you're nearly breathless. he chuckles as a string of saliva connects you before promptly snapping. he lets go and sits on his side on the table. "..there."

--besides for their travels, tomo and kazuha aren't ever that busy. with them, every moment is a soft moment. each mini cooking competition as the two compete for which of their dishes is best. each cuddle session, that started as a stargazing date. each time kazuha would write you a poem or make you a love letter and make tomo jealous. each time tomo would make a meal that puts master chefs and kazuha to shame, or plants and gives you flowers, or grooming and taking care of his cat, mimi. every moment was worth it with these two. even as tomo might not always be there because of each odd job he picks up. or kazuha might just take a moment to run off on his own. but at the end of the day, you all are together, and thats what matters.

[angelkhi]

remodel- j.m

pairing: joel miller x reader

summary: joel is tasked with remodelling your kitchen, but he seems to forget he isn't being payed for his down time.

warnings: SMUT 18+ (minors DNI), i guess it's kinda public idk it happens outside, teasing, some very cliche shit soz, mentions of boring construction stuff, mentions of alcohol (like one beer), hair pulling, spanking, brief fingering, p in v, heavy petting, age gap (reader is like 25, joel is old as fuck), pet names (pretty girl, darlin, angel), kinda mean joel in parts, praise, overstimulation, use of the words slut / whore, creampie?? kay that's it bye go touch grass.

word count: 2.6k

a little note: do contractors even fit kitchens??? idk. this has nothing to do with the fact that i'm about to have a kitchen remodel at home shush. or the fact that I just finished uni leave me alone. Once again this is some nasty shit that isn’t beta’d no one look at me. (i’m thinking of opening up requests for headcanons??? let me know what you think)

(gif credit: @kpfun <3)

The sun beats down on her skin, the fine mist from the sprinklers cooling her slightly, it was almost perfect. Another loud bang drifts through the open kitchen doors and she opens her eyes for a moment, raising her head to glance at the man currently tearing the kitchen apart.

It had been three days so far, of constant banging and drilling and deep curse words from Joel Miller. From the crack of dawn til her dad came home later in the evening,  he worked. Part of her admired his work ethic, the other part not so much just wanting a relaxing weekend whilst the weather held up.

She hears the drill stop right on cue, the clank of beers in the makeshift fridge follows, and Joel steps out into the garden. She hears his shuffling footsteps, pretending she doesn't notice him coming over, waiting until his looming figure blocks out the sun. He holds out a beer, cap already popped off. It's the same routine he'd picked up a few days ago, her outside in a bathing suit, him working until the early afternoon where he takes a break, sipping his beer from the porch and not so subtly staring at her.

Only today he lingers by her side, taking the recliner closest to her, sipping from his own drink casually. She glance over at him, the condensation dripping off of the bottle and on her stomach.

She raises an eyebrow at him, her heart beating a little faster at him being so close to her.

"Can I help you?" He chuckles and takes a hefty swig, "am I blocking your like or somethin?"

She snaps out of her impromptu stare off with him and lean back once more.

"You're fine." She take a sip of the cold beverage, continuing to watch him. "You don't usually sit over here."

"We can't all sit around perfecting our tan all day." The corner of his mouth twitches into an insufferable smirk as he watches her spare him a glance and close her eyes again.

"If someone would employ me I wouldn't have to."

There's a bite to her words that turns his smirk into a grin. He's silent for a few moments, his gaze dotting between the water glimmering under the sunlight, and her exposed skin shining just that little bit brighter.

"Your dad mentioned you'd just finished university. Second degree too. Must be real smart." His fingers trace the edge of his beer bottle and she tries not to watch the way his calloused skin caresses the bottle.

She hums in agreement, unsure of her body's reaction to his compliment. Not that he's unattractive, he's quite literally the opposite, but he'd said no more than 10 words to her the entire time he'd been there.

"You miss it?" He asks and she let out a laugh, sitting up leaning back on her forearms, looking up at him from her spot on the ground. His eyes flicker, watching the curves of her body shift as she moves, but just as quickly he's looking her in the eye again. She doesn't know what's worse.

"Fuck no. I never have to write an essay or speak to a frat boy ever again." He chuckles with her for a moment, watching as she nurses her beer and continues.

"They're just so insufferable. No manners whatsoever. Couldn't hold a door open or say thank you if their lives depended on it." She scowls thinking back to the many immature idiots she'd shared campus with. "And don't even get me started on how bad they were in bed."

She watches as his eyebrows raise a little, something sparking in his eyes.

"Is that so?" He hums, watching her closely. "Couldn't give you what you really wanted?"

Her throat suddenly feels like sandpaper and she swallows some more of her beer, trying to soothe whatever it is that her body is doing.

"How would you know what I like?" Her voice is low, almost hoarse. She watches him, the way his eyes take her in, his gaze almost predatory. He sets the bottle down, watching her as he does.

Joel leans forward, his thighs spread wide in front of him, his thumb lightly tracing her lower lip. His eyes are on her constantly, trying to gauge her reaction to his touch. She tries not to show him that the slightest touch has bought her more satisfaction than any other man ever had, but he sees it. The way her defiant gaze softens as she leans into his touch.

His hand shifts, cupping her jaw for a moment, then sliding around to the back of her head, his soft touch turning into a harsh grip. He grips her hair, holding her in place and she has nowhere to look but at him and his hulking frame and eyes growing darker with each breath.

"I think you like to be told what to do, not that you listen. I think you like being a good girl, even with your bratty little mouth." She feels his warm skin on her cheek as he leans closer and speaks, "I think you like a quick dirty fuck."

The more he talks, the hotter her skin grows, small whimpers falling from her lips when he grips her hair even tighter. He smiles, pulling back to look at her on her knees, thighs spread, tits pushed out towards him.

"I think you want my cock." He watches as her eyes gloss over, chuckling. "You want me to fuck you so good you'll feel me for days, isn't that right darlin'?"

He loosens his grip a little and she nods a little too eagerly. He smiles, and shakes his head.

"I need to hear the words, angel"

"Want- I want you to fuck me Joel." She speaks, finding herself nodding along with her words and Joel's grip tightens in her hair, his eyes dark.

His grip doesn't let up as he leads her onto all fours, her bikini shifting awkwardly, almost exposing her. She rests in front of him, knees apart, back arched slightly, his hands wondering across her back and thighs.

His palm settles on her lower back for a moment, travelling lower to her massaging her

"You sure you want this? I can go back inside, finish the job and get outta your hair." She pushes herself back into his touch but he moves his hand to the small of her back.

"Joel please, I need it." She hates how desperate she sounds, how easily she's offering herself to him, but she also couldn't care less, too riled up to deal with the consequences. She feels his touch leave her all together and is ready to protest but he speaks.

"Good."

With that his palm comes down on her skin, delivering a harsh smack. She whines pathetically, and he just watches her face contort, pure lust written across her features.

He repeats his action, spanking her harshly until her jiggling skin is red and warm. He rubs a soothing hand over the area, feeling all the blood rush to his dick, uncomfortably hard in his pants. He was half hard before he even stepped out of the kitchen, days of pent up desire, watching her lay out here in her skimpy bikini not a care in the world.

He continues to soothe the skin, her small whimpers going straight to his dick. He hooks his finger in her bikini shorts and pulls them to the side exposing her, the cool breeze against her hot centre making her gasp. He stares her for a moment, just staring at her wet cunt, before he touches her running his fingers through her folds and toying with her clit.

"Look at you, fuckin' soaked and I've barely touched you." He increases the pressure, "Perfect little cunt. You're perfect."

His hand rests on her hip, gripping her tight when she bucks away from him, but soon loosens again when she begins to move against his fingers, seeking some relief.

He keeps toying with her, drawing small fast circles over her swollen nub. His fingers explore her folds, teasing her weepy hole and sliding back down until she's practically panting.

"You're doing so good for me, darlin." His fingers pause at her opening, teasing it slightly, watching how she clenches around nothing. He slides in, right to the knuckle, hissing at her warmth when she clenches around him.

Her breathing is shallow and she tries to stay quiet but he's moving just right, hooking his finger right where she needs him. She feels her orgasm slowly start to build, his name the only thing on her lips as he brings her closer and closer, right to the edge, then pulls away completely.

She whines, and he places a kiss on the back of her shoulder shushing her. He waits until her breathing evens out a little and moves his fingers back where she needs him, sinking two of his thick digits into. She grows even louder when he curls the, fucking her quickly. The obscene sounds of her wet cunt swallowing him, her lewd moans and his deep breathing all drown out the chirping birds.

At some point, her arms begin to give out and she slowly lower herself forward, head resting on her forearms. Joel simply just chuckles to himself, speeding up his movements when he feels her walls clench around him once more. She can feel it once again, building in her stomach almost unbearably, but once again Joel pulls away before she can cum, swatting her ass harshly.

"Joel please." She begins to beg but he simply just shushes her, repeating the process twice more until she's dripping down her thighs.

His hands tug at her waist, pulling her into him, settling her in his lap. Her knees rest either side of him, clit catching on the rough material of his trousers. Joel presses a bruising kiss to her lips before moving lower, nipping and biting marks on her neck and chest.

He gets to the hem of her bikini top fingers tugging it impatiently, exposing her chest. He pauses for a moment to stare at her, lips swollen, hair a mess, exposed to him. Then his head drops and she falls back a little when his lips close around her nipple, sensitive and untouched. He frees one of his hands from her waist, paling at her other breast, rolling her nipple between his harsh fingers.

"Such pretty tits baby." His mouth returns to her skin and she moans loudly, clamping her lips shut when she remembers someone might hear them. She feels his grin against her skin and he lightly bites at her nipple, making her gasp loudly again. Her hands thread through his hair, keeping him where he is at least trying to gain some sort of gratification from his never ending teasing.

He pulls back, enjoying the way her eyes droop lightly, the way her mouth turns into a little frown at the loss of contact. He taps her hip twice and she raises onto her knees, watching as he reclines, back against the sun lounger and unbuckles his trousers, shifting his boxers so he can free himself.

She can feel him, thick snd warm beneath her as she hovers over him, nails digging in his shoulder through his shirt. He grips himself tightly, squeezing and stroking for a moment before moving the bulbous head against her clit, and she bucks her hips against him, overly sensitive from all of his teasing.

Joel doesn't seem to care, brushing his cock through her folds once again, teasing her entrance and slipping away again. She falls forward, head in his neck, her lips finding his skin as she tries to keep quiet. She hear him lightly tut and his hand is back in her hair again, pulling her back so that he can look her in the eye.

"You afraid someone might hear you, hm? Look over here and see you wrecked in my lap before i'm even finished with you?" He pauses, slipping his cock against her once more.

He's right. If anyone were to look over into her garden they'd surely faint at the sight. Her bikini top pulled down, Joel mouthing at her nipples, shorts hanging to the side as he rubs himself against her. He grins again, the kind of grin she knows means trouble.

"Let em fucking hear you. Wonder what they'll tell your daddy..." His hand moves once again, this time against her throat, holding her inches away from his face as he enters her in one long thrust.

She can't hide the loud whine that falls from her mouth, mingling with Joel's throaty curse. He doesn't give her any warning as he fucks up into her in one smooth thrust, arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her down into him as he sets an unforgiving pace.

She chokes out a moan as her pussy stretches around him, feeling utterly full. Her hands grip the back of the wicker chair, her lips on his as she whines into his mouth.

"Such a pretty fucking slut letting me fuck you like this." He buries himself to the hilt, grinding up into her and she whines even louder, clenching around him.

"You like it when I call you a slut, huh?" He thrusts again, slow and deliberate, struggling to keep his composure as he watches her mouth hang open, eyes rolling.

"Course you do, you love it. My little fuckin' whore." His foot comes up to rest on the side of the chair, giving him more leverage as he speeds up once again. From this new angle, she can feel him even deeper, her chest rubbing up against the soft material of his shirt, clit catching against his jeans once more.

She knows she won't last long, still slightly on the edge from his earlier movements. She clenches around him, his cock hitting her perfectly over and over again.

Joel notices the way her whines get louder, how her hands bunch in his t shirt. He feels her clenching hard around him and this thrusts grow harsher, the need to finally make her cum burning in his chest.

He pulls her hips down to meet his thrusts, chasing her release through her loud moans. His lips suck on her neck, just below her ear, the sensation shooting straight to her core. Her skin tingles as she cums, her moan stuck in her throat eyes squeezed shut, mouth closed.

"Fuck" Joel groans, his fingers digging into her skin, sure to leave marks. He pulls her impossibly closer. He can, whispering quiet thanks over and over again, her words spurring him on.

He doesn't let up, chasing his own release, her cunt convulsing around him, choking his cock. His hips stutter a little and he groans loudly, his face buried in her neck, teeth digging into her skin.

His chest heaves with exhaustion, her soft pliant body on top of his. He cups her jaw softly, his actions a far cry from his earlier behaviour. His lips are soft against hers and she leans into him, muscles weak.

"You okay?" He mumbles, pulling away from her lips only slightly, watching her tired eyes and slow smile. She nods, forehead resting against his own too tired to speak so he kisses her again.

The pair rest in silence, hands all over each other, until Joel speaks up again.

"Y'know that kitchen might just take a few days" She chuckles lightly against his chest, and mumbles, almost indecipherable.

"Thank fuck."

[urfavfakeblonde]

ⱼₑₐₗₒᵤₛ

hey guys <3 this is actually based on a true story that happended yesterday night :( The names are not the same as the real people, and some of it is twisted to make since, but yeah I felt like writing thsi would help me cope.

Rafe Cameron (not specified tho) x fem!reader

warnings: underage drinking (highschool party), heartbreak

Walking into the party, it was exactly as I expected. Loud, music blaring, drink cans all over the grass backyard, Halloween decorations along the fence, and lots of already drunk teenagers. I held onto my friend's belt as we moved between dancing pirates and angels, prisoners and fairies. I held onto my can of Dr. Pepper, eyes searching for him. As we come to a stop in the middle of the backyard where it isn't overly crowded, I spot my friend Stas and give her a hug. "I love your costume!" I say with a smile on my face, although I'm not entirely sure what she actually is. "Thanks queen, I love you," she slurs, holding my arm. "I am an album cover for Nirvana," she says bringing her drink to her lips. "Thats so creative," I comment, giving her another hug before she turns away to go see her other friends. I bring my attention back to my friend Kayla, watching as she has a conversation with someone dressed up as Salt burn. When I look to the left, I spot him. He's wearing a orange convict costume, matching with one of his friends.

But then I see her.

Shes gorgeous, clinging onto his arm, wearing a swat costume that seems to make her even more pretty. I swallow hard, watching as his hand moves lower to rest just above her ass. Fuck. I think, biting my lip to ignore the jealousy and sadness. I shouldn't even feel this way, because we've never even dated. We have technically grown up together, being in the same class since second grade, but why do I care? Maybe every time it felt like he was flirting with me, he wasn't, and he acts that way with everyone. Maybe I was just delusional because everyone knows the kook prince can't date police chief's daughter. "You okay?" Kayla asks, interrupting my thoughts. I glance at her and fake a smile. "Yeah." She gives me a look like she doesn't believe me. "Alright well, I'm gonna go get a drink, you want one?" I shake my head no, taking a sip of my soda. When I look back at him, we make eye contact for just a moment before he brings his attention back to her. I sigh and start to walk around to find some of my friends. I feel a tap on my shoulder, and I turn around to see Lexi with a drunk grin on her face. "Hey girl!" She giggles excitedly, dancing to the music.

After I talked with her for a while, and some random drunk people came up to talk to us, the vibe quieted down a little. I stand with my friend Bella, talking to one of the boys in our grade. He's incredibly high, but it's nice to talk to someone who used to be my friend. I look around as the conversation starts to bore me, him begging for us to drive him home after the party. When I look over my shoulder, I think my heart quite literally stopped. It was like the music was off and everyone stopped moving and it was just them. Their sitting on the steps, her hand is on his thigh and he's kissing her.

Her.

My mouth fell open as my eyes filled with tears. I turned back around, staring at the ground. I should have fucking known it was never going to happen for me. So why did I excite myself? Why did I spend so much time getting ready just for him to look at my for all of 5 seconds? I've never been so jealous and hurt, I guess he was just toying with me, making me believe it would happen for me. And I fell into his trap.

[xstarkillerx]

Dom Toretto and Brian having a weird sizing-each-other-up-thing drabble because Rica Y Apretadita has been stuck in my head allll day, and listen...

Hop hop 🐇 I keep picturing sitting on Dom's lap at a Toretto function. The table's been cleared of all but the drinks, and the sun's getting low so it's cool enough not to sweat anymore, there's even a slight breeze in the air that makes you curl up closer into his body. Dom's nursing his 5th beer, down to dregs, which keep the glass at the bottom cool against your thigh where he rests it between sips.

Someone puts this song on, Letty probably, but believe it or not, Leon knows his classics too, knows what gets girls moving in that easy way that makes them look angelic, and it's about that time of evening. Everyone's full, everyone's happy, everyone's waiting for dark so they can burn off their hearty meal on the drag strip. Dom's laughing at something Mia said, rumbling his chest under your fingers and all you can think is, God this is song is so good.

"Dom," your voice is sweet and breathy against his skin. Dom gives you a hum of acknowledgment before he turns to look at you, his eyes are warm, his face a little red with alcohol. " Dance with me?" You press a kiss to his skin, running your finger along the line of his jaw. "Come on, before it's over." You find your footing on the grass when you step off of his lap and offer your hand. He smiles at you, takes your hand and presses a kiss to it, but he remains in his chair.

"Next song, promise."

"Dom," you can't help but whine a little. "I love this song, come on." He looks at you like he just thought of something amusing, before he tilts his head in Brian's direction. Your eyes follow. The blond is standing easy, nodding his head to the music and mouthing along to every other word, white boy has good taste, you think. Brian's gorgeous, even now in his mechanic shirt and messy hair, the sun makes it look like a halo.

"Buster looks a little restless. How about you give him a dance huh?" Dom's eyes are dancing with something playful, a glint of mischief and It gets you hot. You lean in close, biting back a smile.

"and what, you gonna watch me?"

"'course." He doesn't back down from your challenging tone.

"yeah," That ghost of a smile grows to a sweet grin, "yeah ok." Giddy and feeling a little dirty, you keep your gaze on him a bit longer. Somewhere in the background you hear Mia flee the scene. You'll apologize later, but god knows she's used to it by now with the way her brother is.

You can feel the heat of Dom's gaze on your body when you walk over to Brian. Poor thing, no one's told him Dom's already decided he likes him, you can tell by the way he sets himself apart from the group and keeps sober, even when he isn't driving tonight. He'll figure it out once Vince catches on that he's here to stay and stops messing with him. When you're close enough he turns his head to look at you, you don't miss the way his eyes flit down in a once over of your body. You don't say anything, don't have to. You know you've already got him. Taking the beer outta his hand and putting it down, you can drag him closer to the speaker. He shuffles along, glancing at Dom whose face betrays nothing, stoic as ever. His own sick sense of humour.

While Brian's distracted by Dom you've already begun moving, swaying your hips and using his hand to pull him closer "You know how to dance, white boy?" You tease, not bothering to look at him, lost in the song.

"Yeah I guess." He still seems distracted, but his hand finally find your waist; he pulls them closer to his hips.

"Show me then." Your voice is playful and bright as you back up that extra inch to close the space between your bodies. You risk a glance at Dom, his posture changes when you lock eyes. A shift in his hips on the plastic chair, a darkening of his gaze, a swipe at his nose. It makes you laugh. "c'mon." You say to Brian, turning up the heat up on your movements and bringing a hand up to graze your fingers on the back of his neck. Your hand migrates up further to run through his curls. With a tilt of your head you're looking up into his cautious blue eyes, you pull him down almost close enough to kiss.

Brian get's the idea eventually, hips falling into the rhythm set by yours. When you take his hands off your hips and slide them up your body, he learns that he doesn't have to be polite about it either. His hands move from your tits back down to your waist before they settle on your back to bend you over. You don't miss a fucking beat, flexible enough to keep your hips moving in this position. You take your hair and move it to the side, giving him a full view of your back and the way it's moving. Just like that, as he's getting into it, the song's over. You always hated the way it ends so suddenly.

In the pause between tracks you can hear the combined heavy breathing of the two of you. You turn to look at him, he looks about ready to go, heavy eyes, eager hands he's since pulled away from your body. The tension is thick. Another song cuts through the silence soon enough and Dom's off his feet in time to join you like he promised he would. Him and Brian share a knowing glance that you can't care to decipher, you had your fun, let the boys duke out the politics of it later. If Brian decides to stick around, he'll learn soon enough that Dom isn't stingy with his women. 🐇 Hop hop

[rottingparts]

Hello! It's so good to find a new Transformers blog. I recently watched Rise of the Beasts and I just can't get Battletrap out of my head. If you're comfortable, could you write some smut with him and human reader, please? Maybe something about the size difference...

Anyway, have a good day/night.

Thank you!!! I love the terrorcons!!! I am hole for them first and a person second. This is written to where reader reader is GN, I use they/them pronouns for reader! No mentions of what holes are being used or what have you! ALSO it's kinda written where reader is with Battletrap, Scourge, AND Nightbird, but this is really just battletrap smut! Also (x2), sorry, i just realized there isn't too much about the size difference, if you wanna send in another request feel free! - Rot

Summary: Battletrap finds to you before the others do, but you are rewarded greatly for it.

Word Count: 700+

Warnings: SMUT! 18+ ONLY! MINORS DNI! Hinted at Predator/Prey Play, penetrative sex, Battletrap calls you pet.

Battletrap loomed over you, his head cocked and optics burning into your skin. You were sprawled out on the ground in front of him, breathing heavy and eyes wide. No matter how long you were kept around, you still felt like prey that was about to get devoured by their predator whenever Battletrap stared at you like that.

You inhaled sharply and you were suddenly very aware of how small you were compared to Battletrap. Sweat rolled down your chest and into the tank top you were wearing. Battletrap stepped forward and kneeled down in front of you.

“Do they know where you are?” Battletrap stared at you, unblinking.

“No,” You shook your head slowly, your voice a whisper, “you are the first to find me.”

Battletrap smirked at you. “Guess I win.”

Your legs, without thinking, spread slightly for Battletrap. His hand touches your thigh and you suppress a whine. You bit your bottom lip, completely ready to throw yourself at Battletrap. His hand moved from your thigh and to the waistband of your pants. Within a blink of an eye he ripped them from you. You gasped and your eyes widened at the sudden change of temperature.

Battletrap easily grabbed you and flipped you over. You were quick to assume the usual position; ass up, elbows holding you, cheek in the dirt.

“Such a good little pet,” Battletrap rumbled.

You heard slight movement and rummaging behind you and then his hand grabbed your hip, roughly. Your knees dug a little deeper into the ground, giving you more stability, when you felt something press to your ass.

“I want you to be as loud as possible,” Battletrap’s voice was in your ear, “I want them to find us like this… I want them to know-” The tip of his slick spike pressed against you, “I got to you first.”

With no hesitation, Batteltrap pushed the tip of his spike into you. A loud moan slipped from your lips. Your nails dug into the grass under you. You could feel yourself stretching around him as he slowly moved.

Battletrap had no intentions of hurting you, ever. He knew just how much your small, organic body could take. And he planned on taking you there every single time he fucked you. Neither of you were left unsatisfied.

Battletrap let out a low groan, and he laughed. Normally, Nightbird would find you first. It was unfair, really, she could fuckign fly. She could easily scope you out from above. Battletrap got to you first, and you just knew he was not going to let anybody live that down. He was going to constantly remind you, Nightbird, and Scourge, every day from there on out. But you did not mind, as long as you got what you wanted.

Battletrap’s spike pulled out and slowly pushed back inside of you. You let out a pleasured cry, your voice echoing through the area. Battletrap’s grip on you tightened and you felt him pick up the pace, ever so slightly. Even if he could not fit all of his spike inside of you, he didn’t care. All that mattered to him was he got to make you his.

“So tight-” Batteltrap growled, his voice reverberating, causing you to only grow even hornier, “And all mine.”

“All yours!” Your voice cracked, the sound of him fucking you almost louder than your words, “I’m all yours Battletrap!” You gasped out.

Your eyes rolled in the back of your head and your entire body tensed as you felt a wave of pleasure starting to hit. You were close to cumming and Batteltrap didn’t seem to want to make you wait. For once, he didn’t edge you. He let you cum.

Your hands were pulling at the grass and you were under him twitching and crying out, begging him to keep going.

“Little pet!” A loud shriek came from in front of you and Battletrap. Neither of you stopped what you were doing.

“Too late,” Battletrap slowed his movements, “I found them first.”

You couldn’t see it, too fucked out to open your eyes, but you were sure Battletrap was staring right at Nightbird as he finished fucking you. As soon as he pulled out you fell to the ground. Your body relaxed and you turned over on your back. Battletrap kept his eyes on Nightbird.

“They’re all yours.”

Your eyes met Nightbird and Battletrap started to leave. You could tell she was thinking about following Battletrap, but then her optics fell on to you. She approached you and you watched her through half lidded eyes.

“Let’s see if we can get Scourge’s attention…”

[multifandomwriter56]

Karissa's 31 Days of October Fun

Day: 1

Prompt: "I bet you can't catch a leaf." from this.

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Characters: Shelby family x Shelby!Reader, Sister!Reader

Warnings: language

It was a chilly day, the leaves falling for the first time for the autumn weather.

Y/n Shelby was awoken by an overly excited Finn who kept rambling about a road trip.

"Shut up, Finn! I'm sleeping!" She snapped as she covered her face with her quilt.

"Come on, Y/n." The eleven year old whines at his sister. "Tommy said we have to be downstairs in five minutes or else he's not going to take us."

The youngest Shelby frowns at her brother even though her face is hidden by the quilt. "Fuck off, Finn. Tommy doesn't take us anywhere." Not anymore, at least.

Finn pulls the quilt until it falls to the floor, ignoring his sister's threats. "Y/n, come on! I don't want to go by meself. It'll be more fun if you go."

She smiles at his confession. The two youngest Shelby's do almost everything together. Their Aunt Polly has always had a love/hate relationship with the fact that they stick together constantly.

"Oi! Finn! Is she coming or what?" John yells from the bottom of the stairs.

"She won't get up!" Finn yells back.

"Oi! Stop fucking yelling inside!" Polly scolds from somewhere in the kitchen.

Y/n groans. She's about to yell for everyone to fuck off when ten digits jab into her ribs. She turns to punch John, but freezes when she realizes it's not John.

No... it's the last brother she would've ever guessed.

"Tommy, stop!"

"Then get the fuck up and let's go." Tommy orders with no heat in his voice. He's too pleased with himself with catching his sister off guard.

When Tommy removes his fingers from her sides, Y/n moves as far as she can without having to get up. "Where are we going?"

"We're going for a drive."

Immediately, Y/n is on edge, her eyes narrowing. "Tommy Shelby never does anything without a reason. What gives?"

Tommy's eyebrows disappear underneath his hair. "I'm your big brother. I ask the questions around here."

"Then how am I to learn if I don't ask questions, eh?"

"Oi! I say we leave her." John pipes in.

Sensing that Tommy might agree with their brother, she pulls herself out of bed. "I'll go."

Eyebrows still raised high, Tommy questions his sister's change of attitude. "Why?"

Y/n shrugs her shoulders. "If you're wanting to drive your siblings around, either you've gone mad or something crazy's going to happen." She pauses, a smirk pulling at the corner of her lips. "And I want to be there for either one."

Tommy chuckles. Y/n has been the only person to ever give him so much cheek without retribution.

***

The ride itself would have only taken thirty minutes, but with the Shelby clan, it was closer to an hour.

When Tommy parks the car on the side of the road that cuts through the middle of a field of grass with a few trees nearby, Y/n for sure thinks her brother has gone mad. "Where are we?"

Her question is ignored by everyone as they all start piling out. Seeing she has no other choice, she follows them.

She watches as Polly and Ada lay down three different blankets side by side while her brothers unload the car.

"Picnic? We're having a picnic?"

"Aw, John. Our little girl is growing up. She knows what a picnic is." Arthur teases before taking a sip of what Y/n assumes is a bottle of whiskey.

"Come help us with the food, love." Polly calls.

"I'm must be dreaming." Y/n mutters as she obeys her aunt.

The Shelby family enjoys the food, the quiet, and each other's presence. The youngest Shelby doesn't remember the last time she was this happy.

Just when she thought she couldn't be happier, the wind picks up, forcing the dead leaves to fall from the trees.

Finn jumps up and starts trying to grab the leaves before they touch the ground.

Wanting to join in on the fun, Y/n stands to her feet and runs to her brother's side. A few minutes later, John joins them. Then Arthur. And then Ada.

Y/n laughs as John tries to climb up Arthur's back to grab a big, beautiful yellow leaf; which causes them both to fall to the ground. She looks over at the only brother not participating, sitting by their aunt.

She runs over to them, a mischievous smirk in place. "I bet you can't catch a leaf." She taunts him.

Tommy's smile reflects her own. "I can't, eh?" He glances at their aunt who shakes her head no. "Well, I must prove you two women wrong." He stands to his feet, grabbing Y/n and throwing her over his shoulder.

Y/n giggles in delight. Tommy's been too busy with his new woman to be around his siblings.

Just when Y/n thought she could die from happiness, a cold feeling runs through her body. She blinks, hoping the feeling will go away.

"Get up, Y/n! I need your help in the betting shop!"

Y/n frowns when she realizes she's not outside any more; but back in her room. She looks at Ada, who is holding an empty bucket. She looks down and sees that she is soaking wet.

"What? But- We were-" She looks to her sister for help. "Tommy was just-"

Ada's anger melts away. Y/n had another dream. "Tommy's not here, Y/n." She reminds her softly. "The boys are still at war."

The cold feeling runs through her body again.

Right. Her three older brothers are fighting in the war. The rest of them are trying to keep the family business going.

Any hope she has left dies. Life will never be the same.

Peaky Blinders: @raincoffeeandfandoms @runnning-outof-time @zablife @lovemissyhoneybee

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

The Secret Portal, Draft One

The people have spoken. Here's my school project I wrote when I was 10.

At fifteen pages, it was the longest in the class by far! (Our minimum requirement was two pages, which most barely reached)

I also got a 100% on it!

Instead of the regular taglist for TSP, tagging the people I tagged in the original poll -- @gracehosborn @illarian-rambling @mk-writes-stuff @elsie-writes @mysticstarlightduck @little-peril-stories @buffythevampirelover @willtheweaver @eccaiia @winterandwords @thepeculiarbird @televisionjester @finchwrites @theeccentricraven @awritingcaitlin @sleepywriter00 @dyrewrites @somethingclevermahogony @writeintrees @thebejeweledwatercat @theelfauthor @cadotoast @space-writes @sunset-a-story

Can't believe I have to put a warning on this, but--

CW: children are threatened with a firearm but don't worry no one gets hurt and they aren't even that scared; brief Harry Potter reference

Word count: 2.3k

Est. reading time: 7-11 minutes

The following is transcribed exactly as written, save for my use of multi-colored text, which I'm not gonna waste my time adding in.

****

~“Come on, Aurora!” I shouted to my friend, Aurora Flité, who wasn't moving from her seat at school. “Alexia, the bell hasn’t…” she started RRRIIINNNGGG!!! “Oh, wait! ‘The bell hasn’t rang yet’!” I joked. Aurora sighed, shook her head, and pushed herself up saying, “Ha, ha, ha!” “Bye Mrs. Kat!” we called. “Oh, wait Alexia,” Mrs. Kat, my teacher, called. “I found this.” She handed me my metal detector. “I found it on the floor. It said, ‘Redinés’ on it, so, I guessed it was yours.” “Thanks.” I said. “Bye, girls!” she called after us. We walk out of Little Rock Elementary. The beautiful blanket of May flowers stretched out all the way… to my house. <3 I sighed. Nothing was better than… “AAAHHH!!!” I whirled around. Aurora had disappeared! I moved the grass where she had been standing. A rock. A metal rock? I stood up, confused. I put my bag down, next to Aurora’s (which she probably dropped) and felt the rock with my hand. “AAAHHH!!!” I screamed.

EVERYTHING WENT BLACK

************

~I opened my eyes. Was I lying in snow? I forced myself up. Wait… it wasn't snow… it was… CLOUDS?!?!?!?! OK. I am dreaming. I thought.I pinched my self. OW! No, wasn't dreaming. “Aurora! Aurora!!! I called. NO ANSWER. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a house. I crossed my fingers and hoped this was the right house. I knocked on the door and waited... and waited... and waited... and waited… and soon, I started to walk away when an elderly woman opened the door. “Hello!” she said, cheerfully. “Hihaveyouseenagirlwithblackishbrownredhair?” I blurted out. “Herhairflowsuptoherwaist.” “Wha...OH! Yeah, I’ve seen her. She went that way.” the woman said, pointing to her right. I ===zoomed off! “Oh! And watch out for my pet, Bobby!” I thought Bobby was a very hyper puppy that could trample me but, I had to continue my search. I soon found her upside down tangled in vines. I charged towards her. “HEADS UP!” I warned. I pulled on the vines. “AAHH!” she screamed. “umph!” she said as she hit the ground. I brushed the hair out of my eyes, when suddenly… “RRRROOOOAAAARRRR!!!!” We both whirled around. A dragon!! “Run for it, Aurora!” I breathed. We charged towards the house and banged on the door. “LET US IN!!” we shouted. “DRAGON ALERT!” “Come in girls!” the woman said, cheerfully. “Oh, and you too, Bobby!” “BOBBY?!” Aurora said weakly, and fainted... RIGHT ON TOP OF ME.

****

Aurora woke up a few minutes later and found me in the living room. “Where am I?” “The lady’s, Lizzy’s, house.” “Oh, yeah right.” We heard a clatter in the kitchen. We figured it was Lizzy or Bobby, but when we walked in a boy about 16 years old, was standing there. “Hey, you must be Alexia and Aurora! I’m George.” When I shook his hand, he seemed strong, but he didn’t look strong. “Hi,” a voice said behind us. A 17-18ish years old girl was smiling at us. “I’m Carly.” Suddenly, we heard laughter in the other room. We ran towards the noise. We found them in Lizzy’s bedroom. Lizzy and her husband were on the bed. “Oh, Aurora and Alexia, right?” he said. “I’m Theodore Majg. But you can call me Ted.” Suddenly, we heard a knock at the door.” “I’ll get it.” Lizzy sang, as she ran to get the door. “Alexia! Aurora! Someone’s here to see you!” she called a minute later. For US? HERE?! We ran towards the door. A man was there. He wore a very big black hat that covered his face. He also wore a long, black cape. There was only one thing I knew: We didn’t know this guy. The man in black pulled out a gun. A GUN! “Show me the treasure or everyone DIES!” What treasure??? I thought Aurora was about to faint when she said, “OK. we don’t know who you are or what treasure, but if you tell us, we might be able to help.” I thought the man was probably FURIOUS. Instead, he said, “Well, it’s what you call… a metal detector.”

****

~I couldn’t move. He wanted something that was in my pocket! “Um… about that...uh…” the words sounded as fake as they were. “It’s in Lizzy room!” Aurora and I ran in the other room. “I need to hide this!” I yanked out the “treasure”. “Why does he want this?” Aurora asked me. “The portal. The portal brought us here. In Cloud City!” (I named it Cloud City since we were in the clouds.) “The portal is metal. I explained. “I think he wants to use the metal detector to find the portal, destroy it, and keep us from going back to Arkansas!” Aurora looked bewildered. Suddenly, she snatched the metal detector out of my hands and jumped off the bed. “We still havn’t found it!” she shouted. Then, she THREW open the dresser drawer JAMMED the metal detector in, and SLAMMED the drawer shut! “Uhhh!” she grunted as loud as she could. “We just CAN’T find it!” she groaned. Wow! My BFF is a WONDERFUL actor. We went back out into the living room. “I’m sorry, sir. But we can’t find it. You can come back another day.” I said. “TOMORROW!” he shouted. When he left, I felt like fainting myself.

****

~That night, I couldn’t sleep a wink. I closed my eyes, trying to go to sleep. My mind was only focused on the metal detector. I thought of a safe place for it, out of the house. Then… I drifted… away….

****

~When I woke up the next morning, I had a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach that the metal detector was gone. I was about to say, “Aurora! Get up!” When suddenly… BOOP! BOOP! BOOP! BOOP! I screamed. Aurora screamed. We both rolled off the couches, which was where we were sleeping. Oh, by the way, that was Ted’s alarm clock. “Aurora,” I said. “I think we should check the drawer for the You-Know-What.” “Why do we ne-” But I was already running into the room. She sighed, and ran after me. She found me digging though Lizzy’s drawer. “Not here.” I told her. “Oh no!” Aurora exclaimed. “He broke in!” “Check the back door.” I ordered. She ran to the back door. I zoomed to the front. “Locked!” Aurora called. “Same here!” I called back. “Girls!” Lizzy’s voice called come here!” Aurora and I ran towards her voice. We found her in the kitchen sitting down on a chair. “Sit there,” Lizzy pointed to 2 seats in front of her. “You’re 10, right?” We nodded. Uh-oh. I knew what was coming. “Your parents found out when they were your age. You 2--like your family, and every one in this house--have…” Oh my gosh!!! I gave Aurora the Don’t Even Think About Fainting! look. She nodded. “...magical...abilities.”

****

~I knew it. Aurora--thankfully--didn’t faint. Whew! “Like what?” Aurora asked. “Well,” Lizzy said. “I can see through walls.” Our mouths fell open. “For example,” Lizzy went on “Ted is naked and in the shower.” Aurora looked like she was about to puke. “What’s mine?” she asked. “Well,” Lizzy stated, “Yours Aurora, is… Oh! Yeah! You can read minds!” Aurora’s face lit up. “COOL!” Oh my gosh! This is freaky! I thought. “Alexia,” Aurora said looking at me. “You are thinking Oh my gosh. This is freaky! Correct?” I nodded. My mouth was still open. “What’s mine?” I asked, even though I knew what the answer probably was. “Alexia, yours is transportation. You can transport objects, people, and animals to different places.”

****

~Wow! I knew it. I looked at Aurora’s glasses, closed my eyes, and focused on the table POP! I opened my eyes, and looked at the table. The glasses were there. Aurora started to reach for her glasses. I grinned. POP! They were on her lap. POP! They were on my head. POP! They were on her face. “Not funny!” Aurora looked annoyed, but she was biting her lip trying not to laugh. She then turned to Lizzy. “How close do I have to be to read minds?” she asked. “15 yards.” Lizzy answered. “I thought Aurora was done with questions, but, oh no! “You said everyone in this house had abilities! What’s Ted’s? What’s George’s? What’s Carly’s?” Lizzy sighed. “Wel, Ted has super-hearing for a mile. George has super-strenght. And Carly can pick up a pencial with her mind, and write something she’s working on sketching with her mind.” After ALL of that, I REALLY thought Aurora would be done with questions (expecialy if she could read minds) but, she wasn't. “Cool! You also said our families have abilities. What’s Mom’s? What’s Dad’s? What’s Robert’s? What’s Marie-Sue’s? What’s Julian’s? What’s Mrs. Redinés’? What’s Mr. Redinés’? What’s Kelly’s?” Oh my gosh, HOW CAN 1 GIRL HAVE THAT MANY QUESTIONS!? But Lizzy didn’t seem to mind. “Your mom can make things appear out of thin air. Your dad can embarass enemies. Robert can make his voice super loud and it can be heard for 3 miles when he taps his chest. Marie Sue can talk to animals. Tamara has X-Ray vision. And Julian can turn into animals.” Lizzy then turned to me. “Your mom can turn invisible. Your dad has a photographic memory. A Kelly can get in a full conversation ½ klm away.” OMG!!! This was waaaaay to much for me to handle. I absoultely positivley wanted to faint. But then it hit me. The metal detector was gone because of me! I didn’t even know where it was! Ding-Dong! Oh no! The man in black was here!! Wait! I can transport things! My mind focused on the metal detector. POP! The metal detector was safe. For now, at least. I ran towards the door. “Lizzy,” I whispered. “Do you know him?” I pointed to the door. “Take off his hat, Alexia.” I focused on his hat. POP! The hat was next to Ted (who had came out of the shower.) “How did this…” I gave him the Cut It Out! look. He nodded. “Now?” I asked Lizzy. She pushed her curly, gray hair out of her eyes and said, “Yes. He is an evil sorcerer named Warlock LV.” All of a sudden, I remembered Lizzy’s own words: “You can transport objects, people, and animals.” People. I can transport people. BAM! BAM! BAM! My mind focused on Warlock LV. POP! He was 0.6 klm away from us. “I heard a splash.” Ted said suddenly. “He’s at the pool.” I looked at him in surprise. But then I remembered that he could hear a mile away, and 0.6 klm is a mile. I ran into the living room. About a minute later, I had Lizzy, Ted, Aurora, George, and Carly living room with me. (I’d transported them) “I have a plan.” I said.

****

I tied my hair in braids to keep the hair--brown-mess off my shoulder. I made sure my scarlett dress was straight. I fumbled with my glasses. Even though it was my plan, I was REALLY nervous. Aurora and Ted were at the front of the house, waiting to hear him. (“Him” is Warlock LV.) Finally, “I hear him!” Ted called out. That was Carly’s cue. She made out 15-yard mark by picking up a chalk with her mind, drew a line and wrote: Don’t cross this line! Or else! And that’s exactly what we meant.

****

“I know what he’s thinking!” Aurora blurted out a few minutes later. “He’s thinking: ‘Don’t Cross This LINE! Or else! Ha! Stupid kids!’.” Wow. “Lizzy!” I called. “Remember the alarm!” A few minutes later, we heard… ERRRH! That meant Lizzy saw Warlock LV, and that was also George’s cue. He literally busted down the door, ran down the block, and threw Warlock LV up! This was my chance. My mind focused on him and I transported him far away. (I don’t even know where!) “We did it!” we shouted. Then Aurora tapped me on the shoulder. “Alexia, where is the metal detector?” I smiled. “Come on!” I walked into the kitchen, and pointed to the cookie jar on top of the refridgerator. I looked at Aurora. Her mouth was hanging open. I smiled, transported the metal detector down, and walked to the door. “Bye,” we called. “Bye, bye!” they called back. When Aurora and I stepped outside, we heard a roar. “Bye, Bobby!” we waved and it seemed like he waved back.

****

“I found it!” We had just reached the portal. I had been using the metal detector to find it. “I’ll go first.” Aurora said. She took a deep breath, stepped in, and disappeared. I looked around 1 last time. I told myself I can come back anytime. I sighed, closed my eyes, took one step, and fell back to Earth…

****

FLOP! I was back on Earth. I looked up., Aurora was standing there. I forced myself up, and looked at the school, 3:00PM?! But… I looked at the date on my watch, May 15, 2013!? No time had passed since we left. “Let’s… go...home.” I said.

****

I was exhausted! “Hi, Alexia!” my little sister, Kelly, said. She looked happy to see me. Something clicked. Kelly’s best friend, Nellie, had powers too. Nellie once looked like she was floating. I ran to the phone and saw my mom disappear into thin air. And then, my dad started to recite the entire 1st chapter of the 7th Harry Potter book, word for word! I grabbed the phone, dialed Aurora’s numbered and told her to bring Julian and Tamara.

****

On the way to the school, while Julian, Kelly, and Nellie were ahead of us, Tamara, Aurora, and I were talking about our powers. Tamara, Aurora, and I all agreed that Nellie’s magical ability was floating. All of a sudden… “AAAHHH!!!” We looked up. Julian and Nellie were looking down at the portal. “Wait for us, Kelly!” they shouted and jumped after her…………

And

I

knew

exactly

what

was

about

to

happen.

[blackjackkent]

Well, that was an eventful night. I guess let's go get Astarion, so he doesn't miss any further shenanigans.

This means wandering back down towards the nautiloid crash site, where Astarion has now been lurking around for a full three days by himself. We're going to find a stack of drained pigs up to Rakha's hip.

Hard to say why Rakha wandered back down here in the first place. Perhaps a last pass to see if they can find any other information about the mind flayers and the worm among the wreckage.

The shouting is surprising; none of them thought anything living still lurked around here. I suspect it's Wyll who encourages them to investigate at all.

The man lurches at them as they approach with an air of agitation. Rakha takes in the details at a glance in passing now as is becoming habit - pure white hair, deathly pale. Pointed ears. Red eyes. Clothing far finer than anyone else she's encountered yet.

"Hurry," he snaps out urgently. "I've got one of those brain things cornered."

"There, in the grass." He points off the road. "You can kill it, can't you? Like you killed the others?"

Rakha squints past him into the grass. She sees no sign of movement, none of the strange little brain creatures that crawled the nautiloid.

How does this man know she has killed them before? Has he followed them, watched them? Was he on the ship?

Regardless, if one of the illithid creatures still lives, it needs to be removed from the situation. Kill.

"Easily. Stand back."

She strides forward past him without hesitation, lifting her hands still stained from Alfira's death. He closes in behind her, his eyes intent.

"There," he says, pointing. "Do you see it?"

She squints, her attention focused down to a razor-sharp point. She is a predator, ready to strike--

She is so focused on the possibility of the kill that she does not see the man move at her elbow until it is too late.

The man is roughly half her size, but he knows how to fight. His foot strikes the back of her knee at the same time that the blade presses her throat, and she goes over backwards like a fallen tree. She hits the ground with a grunt and all the breath goes out of her body.

The beast surges forward angrily at this attack; her vision pales out at the corners. She is acutely aware of the cool sharpness of the knife under her jaw, and the willingness of the man to use it. Given a reason, he would carve her the way she carved Alfira, perhaps. His knee presses into her hip, limiting her leverage. His skin is startlingly cool.

"Shh," he purrs in her ear. The sound raises all the hair on her neck. "Not a sound. Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours." His head lifts, carefully, not shifting the blade one iota. "And you," he snaps at the others. "Keep your distance. No need for this to get messy."

Wyll steps forward a little ahead of Lae'zel and Gale, one hand stretched out in a calming gesture. "Keep your cool," he says - and it's hard to tell if he's speaking to Rakha, whose expression is contorted with blind rage, or Lae'zel, who already has her greatsword half out of its sheath. "This one's all bite, no bark." He grins crookedly. "Or is it the other way around?"

The pale man scowls. "Answer a few little questions," he says coldly, "and we won't have to find out. Now..." His eyes drop back to Rakha's. "I saw you on the ship, didn't I? Nod."

She doesn't nod. She doesn't even fully comprehend the words. She is beyond that. He has her well pinned, but he underestimates her willingness for violence. Arching her back, she slams her forehead directly into his nose.

[MELEE ATTACK] Headbutt the elf.

There's a tremendously satisfying crunch at the impact. He yelps, rolls back, and as soon as the knife is free of her skin, she's on her feet, watching as he staggers away.

"Argh! You wretched little--"

She watches for an angle to leap forward, to grab the knife, turn it on him, cut him apart. But he's clever, this one; even in pain, he doesn't leave an opening and lingers just out of her reach, the blade tip towards her.

And then the connection hits, yet again. The worm joins with the other myriad aches in her head, squirming excitedly.

Narrator: Your mind twists. You're looking out of unfamiliar eyes, prowling dark, busy streets. You try to hold the memory, but it fades to the worm. The light. The fear.

The man staggers, looks at Rakha with wide eyes. "What was that? What's going on?"

Rakha hisses a heavy breath through her teeth as her vision slowly clears. Another one, then. Another marked as she and her companions are. Another who might be of use to them. This one, unlike most of the others, threatened her first; the only other who has done that was Lae'zel. This one is smart, then. He understands the value of violence, of preemptive strike, of self-defense.

"Put the knife away," she says slowly, cautiously, "and I'll tell you everything."

"I'm not an idiot," the man snaps. But it has less heat behind it. He's thinking now, processing the images, less practiced at it than Rakha is. "It had to be those tentacled monsters. Something they did..."

He hesitates; the tip of the blade wavers just slightly. "They took you too. I saw it during... whatever just happened."

His shoulders slump, and he lets his hands drop to his sides. Astonishingly - he grins, a cocky, casual expression undampened by whatever pain Rakha slammed into his nose. "And to think," he says dryly, "I was ready to decorate the ground with your innards. Apologies..."

She draws another slow breath, lets it out. "Can't blame you," she says evenly. "I was looking forward to seeing yours." There is still the urge in the back of her mind to strike now while his guard is down, to rip, to tear... but he has the worm. Like the others, that means he is an ally. For now...

He laughs. "Ah - a kindred spirit," he says. Oddly, he almost seems more relaxed than he did before, hearing the subtle threat. "My name's Astarion," he goes on casually, sheathing the dagger in a quick, smooth movement. "I was in Baldur's Gate when those beasts snatched me."

She has had enough similar conversations to know by now that this introduction is a tacit request for one in return. And in the wake of last night's events, directness seems warranted even more than usual.

Tell him of your crash, your worm, and your ruined brain.

"My, my," Astarion says crisply, unphased by this incredibly strange story. "You've been busy." He lounges back on his heels. "So, did you learn anything about these worms while wandering the ship?"

Rakha smiles faintly. There is something of herself in this man - the readiness for violence, the direct questions and need for answers. Perhaps he will not fit in badly to this little team they are assembling. "I know we don't want them in our heads," she says curtly.

"No," he says ruefully. "Of that we can be certain. These worms are already affecting me." He trails off pensively. "Now, what to do about it..."

She sees him flick a look at her sideways. A question, an expectation? Difficult to read. She has little patience for whatever dancing he might wish to do around the subject. They will work together. It's already decided. "I need to get moving," she says brusquely. "But you can shelter at my camp."

He smiles again. It's a slow, careful smile with some thought happening behind it that she can't parse. "I was ready to go this alone," he says. "But maybe sticking with the herd isn't a bad idea. Safety in numbers, after all. And I hate to turn down an invitation."

He makes an elaborate half-bow, turns to stalk past her. "All right. Maybe I'll see you there. Good luck."

Another face in the crowd. Another tent in camp. Another person to fear her when the beast rises again. She can feel it purring eagerly even now, in the back of her mind.

Narrator: As he leaves, you're flooded with visions of a perfect, pretty corpse...

[whumpy-daydreams]

Someone to Hold

Masterlist

Previous Next

CW: ref to past abuse, nightmares

Rowena sat on a stool in Emma's bathroom, a rainbow towel draped over her shoulders.

"You sure about this?" Rowena nodded, pointing to where she wanted Emma to cut her hair. "And you're sure you want me to do it?"

"Just do it."

There was a shaky breath and the sound of scissors hacking away at damp hair. Slowly Emma chopped off half of Rowena's hair, the damaged strands falling to the floor. The weight seemed to come off more than just her head.

"Okay... it's a bit uneven, and by 'a bit' I mean a lot, but I'll try and even it out."

A strange sadness washed over her, and before she knew it Rowena was crying again. At first it was just silent tears, but soon her chest started heaving, breaths coming thick and fast.

"Oh gods, did I do it wrong?" Emma panicked, rushing round to face her.

"No-" she choked out. "No, it's..."

"Hey, come here." She pulled her into a tight hug, resting her head on Rowena's shoulder. "It's going to be okay. We're okay. They can't hurt us anymore."

Emma pulled back, wiping away Rowena's tears.

"How are you..."

"Okay?" Emma finished the question for her. "I'm not. I have nightmares, and I cry a lot, and honestly I'm really fucking scared. But then I remember I can go outside when I want, and wear my own clothes, and eat sweets and I'm a bit less scared."

Rowena looked away. Emma sighed, guessing what she was thinking.

"I know it doesn't seem like much, but I was there for six years. I couldn't remember what grass felt like or how sweets tasted. It's different for you. I can't tell you how to feel better - but I know you can't just bottle it up and ignore it." She gave Rowena another tight squeeze. "Come on, let's go eat."

---

Rudy laughed.

"Come on, Torsen." He flipped a knife in his hand. "me or him?"

Rowena turned. Marcus was on the other side of her, face grim. In front of her sat Emma, gagged and tied to a chair.

"Who do you want to kill her? Me or him?" Rudy was now next to Emma, stroking her hair as he leaned in.

"Stop." Rowena wanted to move but her feet seemed stuck to the floor, her mouth sluggish. "Please."

"What did I tell you about following orders?" Now it was Marcus's turn to move, standing stoically in front of her. "I told you to choose."

Her hands were chained above her head, so tight her feet grazed the floor. As Marcus raised his fists, Rudy plunged the knife into Emma's chest.

---

Rowena woke in a cold sweat. Her heart beat in her ears along with the remnants of the nightmare's crying. No... the crying wasn't in her head.

Throwing back the covers, Rowena ran to the door. The terrified sobs were coming from Emma's room, where Shaan was already pounding on the door. They only waited a couple of seconds before bursting in.

Emma was curled up in bed, covers twisting around her, sheets soaked with sweat and tears. Shaan rushed for her, gently holding her shoulder.

"Ems," he said softly, "Emma, wake up." He shook her a little. "Emma!" She woke with a shout, shuffling backwards. Shaan held his hands up. "It's okay, it was just a nightmare. I'm here. You're okay."

It took her a few seconds before she relaxed a little, sliding back down in bed, allowing Shaan to hold her.

Rowena watched the pair for a moment. Emma was wrong. It wasn't grass or sweets that made her feel safe, though they probably helped. No. It was having someone to wake you up when the nightmares came, someone to hold when you cried. Someone who made the world a little less scary.

She didn't doubt that Emma or Shaan would wake her up, or give her a shoulder to cry on. But they couldn't take the fear away.

Tag list: @i-eat-worlds

[darkx-the-dragon-kn1ght]

Chapter 33- Part 15

So now, I can take this next turn to heal Riptide before-

Oh- okay, fair enough.

Well…maybe this can still work, I can still take a turn to heal.

39 damage- much more manageable. Now Ice Fang should work.

There's the ace- but I have a plan here. I'll start by keeping Riptide in.

This should bait a Grass-type move, and that means I can swap in Kirin to proc Sap Sipper!

Or…not. I mean, that works just as well, still no damage to Kirin, but a lack of Attack boost is inconvenient. Still, maybe it's safe to at least use a Super Potion, as long as it doesn't use a different Dark-type move or something.

Still just…using Sucker Punch, huh? Uh…okay, I guess I can also take this time to use an Antidote.

OOOH THAT'S NOT GOOD. Shoot! Now if I try to have Kirin use Crunch, she'll take huge damage from Sucker Punch, maybe even get knocked out…

…Wait a second. It's Sucker Punch. Kirin has Psychic Terrain.

Now it can't Sucker Punch her! And she's immune to any Grass or Ghost moves it might know, so…that means she should be able to use Crunch with no risk!

Oh my gosh. Oh gosh, Fern actually doesn't have any other moves that can hit Kirin, oh my goodness gracious-

OH MY GOSH. Psychic Terrain Sap Sipper Girafarig with Crunch actually just walls Fern's Decidueye, this is the best! This is awesome!

And I think we all know where this is going. It's time for Bloom again!

Methinks Bloom's about to get a full heal here.

I'm sure Hardy in-universe was losing it as much as I was, watching Fern being completely powerless to stop Kirin and her Psychic Terrain.

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Next

[foundtherightwords]

Winter Light - Chapter 4

Pairing:Tom Grant (Make Up) x OFC

Summary: Vanessa, a young cancer patient, arrives at a remote holiday park in Cornwall to wait out the rest of her days, but after a chance meeting with a park employee named Tom who's nursing a broken heart, Vanessa realizes life may not be done with her yet.

Warnings: very light smut, angst, some fluff, swearing, serious illness (cancer), discussion of death/grief

A/N: My first attempt at writing smut, and man, it was like pulling teeth. And it's not even that smutty - more like implied smut, which is the only kind I can write. Guess I'd rather leave things to the imagination. So if you're looking for something more graphic/explicit, sorry!

Also, prawns aren't really cannibals, despite what Mike Wozniak may tell you.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Stay with You

Thus began their new routine.

Tom all but moved into Vanessa's caravan. He would leave for work in the morning and come back for tea or even lunch if there was not much to do that day, and they would spend the evening watching TV or reading, before he carried her to bed and made his bed on the sofa. Sometimes they fell asleep together on the sofa, and Vanessa would wake with her head on Tom's chest. She savored those moments as she lied there, listening to his breathing, feeling his heartbeat. But soon, too soon, he would always wake up and carry her to her bed, before returning to the sofa.

Tom found a wheelchair in one of the store rooms, and on the rare sunny days, they would pack a picnic and head to the beach, Tom pushing her in the chair, stopping just as the path merged with the sand. Then he would pick her up and carry her to their favorite spot under the foot of a dune, where the wind wasn't as strong. She savored those moments too, with his strong, capable arms around her, and the hollow between his neck and shoulder forming the perfect cradle for her head.

"It's supposed to snow soon," Tom said one day, as they sat looking at the churning gray sea. "Might even get a white Christmas."

"Really? Gosh, it's been ages since it snowed on Christmas." Vanessa looked around the desolate beach with its frozen sand and sad clumps of dead, brown grass. Yes, a cover of snow would make it a lot prettier. "Aren't you going home for Christmas though?" Tom shook his head. "But your mum and sister..."

"They'll understand. Besides..." Tom turned away, suddenly looking awkward. "I heard that Ruth's back home. Don't want to risk running into her."

He still thought about her then. Vanessa tried not to show how much that hurt her. But what he said next quickly wiped away that hurt: "And I want to stay with you."

Vanessa stamped down the excitement in her heart. She said with careful nonchalance, "I might not last till then."

"Don't," Tom said quietly.

His voice trembled a little, and that frightened Vanessa. Tom had always been very pragmatic and matter-of-fact when speaking about her death, but now here he was, not looking at her, his lips pressed together to stop them from quivering. No, she would not have that.

"Don't what?" she asked, ready for a fight.

"Don't say things like that."

"Like what? I'm going to die, aren't I? There's no use mincing words."

Tom flinched, but he kept his eyes on her. "Yes, but don't make fun of people when they say they're going to be sad."

"You sound just like them."

"Like who?"

"My family. Fuss, fuss, fuss. I'm sick of it."

"People grieve when someone they love die, you can't deny them that." Tom was getting riled up now. She had watched him long enough to see the tell-tale sign of his forehead scar turning red, his eyes sparking. "And you'll be dead by then, so why does it fucking matter what other people feel?"

Vanessa flinched at the anger in his voice. Tom noticed it.

"What? You can talk about dying but I can't?" he said. "You're afraid, aren't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she managed to say.

"You talk big, but face it, Vanessa, you're afraid. Afraid to die, and afraid to live too."

"That's rich, coming from you."

"Fucking right, I'm a pathetic coward who's hiding from his ex. At least I can admit that."

Suddenly Vanessa was angry. Angry at this boy for being right, for saying all the things she'd been thinking but had not the courage to admit to herself. Angry at herself for falling in love with him, for letting him getting under her skin. And angry at her illness, for taking everything away from her before she got to experience them.

"I don't have to listen to this." Leaning on her cane, she stood up and walked away, but she had only gotten a few steps when her treacherous legs buckled under her in a jolt of pain and she crumpled to the ground. Tom was beside her in a flash, his arms out to pick her up. "Leave me alone, I can do it myself," she snapped at him. She pushed her cane into the sand, trying to get to her feet, but the frozen sand slipped, and another spear of pain stabbed through her. She cried out. Somehow his arms were around her, and she clung to him, sobbing against his chest.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said those things," he murmured. "You're the bravest person I know." She felt the soothing of his voice rather than hearing the words, and her breathing calmed. She lifted her head to say something to him, she didn't know what, just as he bent his head down to her, and their lips met.

Tom bolted away as if he just had an electric shock, but Vanessa impulsively pulled him back to her. Time seemed to stop while they held on to each other, their faces so close Vanessa could see her shaky breaths ruffling his eyelashes. Those fluttering lashes were her undoing. She leaned forward and kissed him, just a quick peck, really, just to see how it felt, to get it out of her system. He froze for a second, stunned. Then he kissed her back. Slowly, softly at first, then she felt his tongue brush against her lips, so she parted them to let him in, and the kiss got hungrier as he cupped her face in his hands, pulling her close, and she realized he had been waiting for this moment too.

***

Vanessa didn't remember how they got back to the caravan. Tom must have carried her, because her legs no longer worked. But it wasn't because of the pain. There was no more pain. There was nothing else, except for the feel of his mouth on hers, his taste of the tea they had been drinking, and his smell of warm, clean clothes and a faint trace of the sea.

They stumbled through the door, pressed together in a tangle of coats and jumpers and arms and legs, struggling to get their clothes off but not wanting to stray too far from each other or for too long. "Hold on," Tom mumbled as he bent down to unlace his boots. He lost his balance and sent both of them crashing to the floor, giggling like two naughty kids. "Sorry," he laughed softly into her neck, then that laugh turned into a nuzzle, and that nuzzle turned into a kiss that ran all the way from her throat to her collarbone, sending shivers down her spine.

As Tom reached out to lift her shirt up, Vanessa seemed to wake up from the haze. She stopped his hand. "Can we get under the covers first?" she asked.

"You cold?"

That would be a good excuse. Vanessa almost said yes, but she wanted to be honest with Tom. "No. I just... I don't want you to..." She didn't want him to see her body, how the cancer had left her all skin and jutting bones.

"You want to stop?"

"No, it's not that. It's... I'm..." How could she explain? How would she bear it if he took her clothes off and reacted with disappointment, or even disgust? Her nervousness seemed to be contagious. Tom let go of her, took a step back.

"We don't have to do this," he said. "I'd understand. It's been over a year... and before that, I don't know..."

But realizing that he was nervous as well had helped her relax. "I don't mind that," she said, drawing closer until her head rested on his chest. The thought of being away from him at that moment was unbearable. "I'm not that experienced myself, you know. I do want to be with you. It's just..."

Tom saw the way she was holding on to the hem of her shirt, twisting it, and guessed her discomfort. "Here," he said, lifting her chin so she was looking at him. "Trust me." He pulled off his own shirt and trousers. "See, not exactly Mr. GQ myself," he said.

Vanessa stared at his body, taking everything in. He was fit, but not as sculpted as she'd expected. He just looked... soft. Yes, that was the right word. Soft and comforting and safe. She touched the tan lines that hadn't quite faded from around his biceps, and ran her hand slowly from the chain around his neck to his chest, to his soft belly, and finally to the faint line of hair disappearing into his boxers.

Tom drew a sharp breath, and that gave her the courage to push on. She slid his boxers down, resting her hand there for a moment before raising her arms so he could do the same for her, peeling off the layers one by one, until they stood facing each other with nothing but the electrified air between their skins.

Just as she had done with him, Tom reached out to stroke her neck, her shoulder, her breasts, her hips, his eyes following his lingering fingers as if he was marveling at her. His languorous touch stripped her of her inhibitions, her fears, her pains, and released the butterflies in her stomach into a cloud of tingling warmth that flooded her entire body. He pulled her in for another kiss. "There's nothing to be ashamed of," he whispered into her hair. "You're beautiful."

And then they were in bed, mapping each other's body with fingers and mouths, finding all the places where they fitted together like pieces of a puzzle. She tried to stay focused, to memorize everything, his face swimming above her, his eyes dark and liquid in the yellow glow of the floodlights shining in through the window, his chain tickling her. She wrapped herself around him, her legs on his waist, her arms across his back, feeling his muscles ripple and arch like the sea, her fingers wound into his hair, her face buried into his neck as she kissed his pulsing veins, holding on to him, taking him in with every fiber of her being, while the wet heat that bloomed between them built and crested until it engulfed them both.

She didn't let go of him even when the heat had subsided, inside and out. "Talk to me, please," she murmured, cradling his head. "I don't want to go to sleep yet."

"What d'you wanna talk about?" Tom mumbled, his breath warm on her chest.

"I don't know. Anything."

"OK, do you know that prawns are cannibals?"

Vanessa laughed. "That's not true!"

"It is. They eat their babies. Surprised you didn't know that, bug girl."

"Prawns aren't bugs."

"They're sea bugs. Same thing."

Vanessa ran her fingers through his hair, still slightly damp with sweat, and tugged at the rogue curl that always dangled over his forehead whenever he got excited. "Say something else."

Tom propped himself up on his elbows so he could look at her. "Are you happy now?" he asked.

She gazed at him. She was happy. She was happy in a way she hadn't dreamed possible just a few hours ago, let alone when she first arrived at this desolate bit of Cornwall. She was so happy it frightened her. But she only said, "Yes. Are you?"

"Yes." He leaned down to kiss her, and their conversation continued without words.

Later, Tom fell asleep curved on her, his arm around her waist. Vanessa turned to look at him, committing to her memory and her heart every little detail, the way his lips parted slightly in sleep, the way he always had one arm tucked under the pillow, the dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose. Remembering, because it would be all that she had.  

When she was sure he was sound asleep, she got out of bed, as quietly as she could. She packed her suitcase with a few essentials - she wouldn't need much. She put Seamus Heaney's "Death of a Naturalist" on the kitchen table, with a note folded into "Lovers on Aran". It was a short note. There was so much she wanted to say, but she was afraid if she took the time to write it all down, Tom might wake up.

Chapter 5 (last chapter)

[ajdnnw-has-autism-swag]

On your 7th birthday your older sister takes you out onto one of the routes surrounding town. She convinces you to go into the tall grass with her, she tells you to stay still and keep quiet, she hands you a singular pokeball. The pair of you come back with a Rattata trailing behind your feet. Your parents are watching the news with concern, something about a kid in Kanto. Neither of you pay it any attention, instead you run upstairs to find space in your room for your first pokemon to live.

When you turn 10 you start trying to be a pokemon trainer. Every kid in the area is after all, and you've spent the last three years memorising book after book on how to best look after Ace - it shouldn't be that hard! Except Mikey keeps on beating you and rubbing it in your face. You swear you almost had it one day, only you're distracted by a strange boy and his Totodile coming up the route. He comes by again later in the day. You challenge him to a battle. You lose. You offer your phone number. He accepts. You don't know why.

You keep calling him. He keeps answering. It's a weird dynamic the pair of you have. You call and talk about anything. He listens in mostly silence. You think it's nice, comforting even, to be able to just talk to someone. Reena isn't at home anymore so there isn't really anyone else. You wonder if he's annoyed. The other kids are always annoyed by you. When he speaks - it's rare but he does - he sounds happy though. As if he finds comfort in it as well.

He's gone farther than you could have ever hoped, Azalea, Goldenrod, Ecruteak, Cianwood. In 4 days he's done far more than you have in 5 months. You try not to let it get to you. Instead, you brag about Ace; the pokemon he manages to beat, yesterday he finally took down Mikey's Pidgey, did you know his fangs are really sharp? When he reaches Olivine something happens. It's on the news, something happened at the lighthouse. You don't know what exactly. You can't ask him. He deleted your number. Guess that answers if he was annoyed or not.

You see him again after 3 days. He looks exhausted, dragging his feet across the route. He doesn't seem fully aware of where he is going, he's muttering something you can't hear. When you call out to him, he stops. You can't tell if it's fear or relief in his eyes. However he doesn't ignore you. He gets your number again. Was it a mistake?

There is something happening, you know that much. He won't say what, he doesn't say anything, but he's scared. You know he's scared. His breath is shaky over the phone. You feel powerless. You feel inferior. You don't move from this singular route and yet he's collected 8 gym badges in just under a week. Those two feelings bring you to send Ace to him. If you can't help by calling him then maybe he can help in this way. If you can't help Ace be his best - then maybe he will.

There's a moment where things are different. He beat the pokemon league. He's the champion of Johto. Ace was in his team. You see him walk up the route. He's still tired but the fear is gone. He stops and talks to you, properly talks to you, about nothing of note at all. Nothing about his journey, or Olivine, or if he knows what you did. He just talks about his mama and the history book he had been reading before all of this. When he leaves again he seems nervous. Like he knows something. When you call later he's back to how he was.

He went to Kanto. You worry. In the last few years, Kanto hasn't exactly been safe. Not after what happened with that boy with the Pidgeot. Something about a guy called Helix, you weren't fully paying attention. He calls you for a change. He tells you he boxed Ace. He tells you what he's going to do is dangerous, and he doesn't want his friend's pokemon to get hurt. He tells you he isn't sure if he'll come back, but if he does he will explain everything, because you deserve that at the very least. You don't understand. He hangs up before you can ask. A few hours later the news reports that two boys were found at the top of Mt. Silver. He's one of them, the other is the boy from 3 years ago.

You visit the hospital every chance you get, hoping he'll wake up. While there you contemplate everything. You know now that you aren't cut out for being a pokemon trainer. You don't know what to do with yourself. You feel like you can't turn your back on this. A nurse comes in and hands you something he had. Apparently it dropped out of his bag. A pokeball with the letters "GS" on it. You've never seen it before, but she hands you it before you can ask about it. You take it home on accident. You wake up somewhere else next to a mythical pokemon and with your head full or noise.

It felt like a dream. You know that it wasn't. Celebi is kept hidden in your room next to Ace's bed. You take the GS ball with you whenever you go to visit him, in case he's awake and can explain it. Or whatever They were. You have a theory, but aren't fully sure.

When he finally wakes up there's commotion. You see him panic at the noise, something clicks. You drag out the nurses and doctors that had rushed in and wait for him. He breaks down. You tell him it's ok. He explains Them. He explains the Helix and Red and what happened on the mountain. He tells you he was there at Olivine, but he doesn't say what happened. You don't ask. You pull out the GS ball. He barely recognises it. You tell him you believe him. No one besides his parents do.

You spend a lot of time together. Actually best friends now, not just a one way phone call. It's still comforting, you don't know what you want, but at least you have this. At least he smiles now.

You watch it happen again and again. Person after person walking around with Them at their side. You watch the story play out in front of you as you always have. It's painful, it's horrifying. You can't look away. You feel that doing so would betray him. Doing so would betray yourself. You find that you can help in a small way, just by being there. You are an outsider in regards to the grander scheme, but you are one of the few that know.

You sometimes consider using Celebi to go back. Back to the very beginning, to stop any of this from happening. Doing so would mean you wouldn't have met him, but he would have been happier, right? However you've seen what happens when people try to mess with the world's path. It's tempting, but you bite it down and continue to watch.

You aren't a host, though you aren't really human either. You exist in a strange limbo where you've seen and experienced too much to go back, but not enough to truly suffer the effects. This was your choice to stick to it, for his sake more than your own. You dont think you can regret it, not when the alternative was a life stuck to a single spot, destined to always be inferior.