#defender strange x ofc

[strangedreamings]

Fic meme: Emilia, tell me when you first realized you were in love with Stephen.

She looks up from the spellbook she was reading and smiles happily. “Hello! Thank you for asking. I thought Stephen was attractive the moment I saw him across the courtyard at Kamar-Taj. Of course, I didn’t know in that moment that he was the Sorcerer Supreme, I thought he was simply a visiting Master.

“I believe I started to fall in love when we first started talking. Hearing him say that he put his duties above his own physical needs told me everything I needed to know about him – he needs a lot of support, both physical and emotional. It was inevitable that I would fall in love with such an honorable, self-sacrificing man. To be perfectly honest, I would have been satisfied with helping him but loving him from afar but I’m glad Stephen had other ideas.”

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

Share your newest OC and a few facts!

I'm excited to share about this OC, so thank you so much for the Ask @arrthurpendragon!

Contessa 'Tess' O'Neill

fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe/Doctor Strange

face claim: Liv Tyler

I originally created Tess as an RP character. Since then, she appeared in my fic, 'It's Not the Years Honey - It's the Mileage', a Doctor Strange one-shot. And I'm currently working on a Defender Strange one-shot where she'll make her second appearance.

mid-thirties, Bachelors Degree in Literature, published two minor poetry collections, worked as a freelance copy writer pre Blip

speaks fluent Italian, gift of her maternal grandmother who lived with her family

ended up in Kathmandu, Nepal, after months traveling Europe & Asia; her trip had been motivated by the death of her flight instructor husband on the day of Blip; taking such a trip had been on their bucket list

however, Tess had never planned to return to the United States

trigger warning below the cut...

trigger warning: attempted suicide stemming from depression; survived due to the timely intercession by a Nepalese street vendor who brought her to Kamar-Taj for medical treatment

during her recuperation, Tess found her spirit healed as well, witnessing the philosophy, tranquility, and unselfish purpose of the residents of Kamar-Taj

found her own new purpose as an initiate of the Mystic Arts, eventally becoming a Healer

[whyse7vn]

Us -

[ot7 x reader]

AGUST DUI 🛴🔥

7 participants - 7 online

———————————

tae: ok raise your hand if you think yoongi should of died in the crash

namjoon: why would you say that?

tae: jungkook raise your hand

jk: ok

tae: not in real life the emoji please

jk: ok sorry

wait how did you know i raised my hand in real life??

tae: just do it

jk: like nike LOL

tae: i’m going to skin you alive

jk: sorry

🙋🏻‍♀️

tae: why are you a woman

jk: gender is a construction

hobi: construct

jk: control

hobi: we are not playing a game

i am correcting you

jk: oh

tae: connecticut

hobi: stop

tae: i wanted to play :(

hobi: it wasn’t a game can you read

jk: omg i know someone from connecticut

i think

jin: you have no friends don’t lie jungkook

jk: no i swear i do

tae: he does

hobi: don’t act like you know

tae: i know

hobi: who is jungkooks friend then?

tae: jungkook tell this idiot ☠️

hobi: i’m asking YOU to tell me

jk: i don’t know who it is

but i know

i’m going to go insane who is it ohmygod

y/n: jaehyun lmao

hobi: oh

jin: yikes

jk: i’m sorry

tae: how dare she lmao like she didn’t just cook my first born alive by saying that name

jk: she typed it btw

tae: that’s not the point jungkook

i’m throwing up

jk: ur right me too

i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry

y/n: ???

don’t be sorry

jk: >.<

yoongi: lol

jin: tf he laughing at?

yoongi: we’re always talking about jaehyun for some reason

hobi: be fr

yoongi: …

y/n: shouldn’t you be dead from the crash or something

tae: IM SAYING LIKE

jk: maybe he’s still drunk

hobi: LMAOOOO

yoongi: i did not crash

namjoon: he just fell over guys

yoongi: right

jin: ofc the bitch with no license is defending the other bitch with no licence

y/n: typical 🙄

yoongi: why do you know he’s from connecticut

y/n: what????

namjoon: uh??

jin: wasn’t he JUST complaining about how much we talk about you know who…

hobi: kook was right this man is still off the juiceeeee

ha juice by shinee

i’m so funny wow

tae: if we think about it wtf is connecticut

what the fuck is that srsly

i hate that

what does that mean

america is so strange

another white thing i don’t get

i hate white people

jin: ur borderline white

tae: wtf is wrong with you never say shit like that again

ur borderline old

ur borderline dying

AND ur paler than me

like wtf

this poc erasure

someone get him

jk: connecticut more like connectiYUCK 🤮🤢🤮🤢🤮🤢🤮🤢🤮🤢🤮🤢

EWWUUUUUU 🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮

hell on earth

yoongi: what

namjoon: ?

yoongi: are we talking about again

i just lost my train of thought

hobi: choo choo

y/n: chuu chuu

namjoon: jaehyun…

jk: 🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤢🤢

tae: AND we are talking about poc erasure if you even care

you probably don’t

because you’re a racist

just like your father namjoon

jk: yoongi is older than namjoon

btw

tae: ok???

maybe i wasn’t even talking to yoongi

jk: ok i’m sorry

tae: it’s ok son

hobi: who the fuck were you talking to then?

tae: well yoongi but like maybe i wasn’t at the same time yk?

y/n: shut up

jk: yes

y/n: ?

tae: ok raise ur hand if you think hoseok is being unnecessarily mean to kim taehyung the 3rd today

namjoon: anyways

yoongi are you ok??

yoongi: yeah sorry my head is just all over the place rn

forget everything i said

hobi: is this due to your alcohol consumption

or is it your age getting to you LOL

since your old

older than namjoon

jk: older than namjoon

jin: jungkook is 27 btw

y/n: 23 forever

jin: that’s almost 30 yk?

hobi: at least it’s not 31

yk…

like you

jin: ok

jk: ok !!!!

namjoon: yeah i don’t know what you wanted to get out of that one…

jin: kys

ALL of you

hobi: ❤️

jk: love is love

y/n: awoman

jk: awoman

tae: if you all loved me you would send me a stack

hobi: notice how no money is being sent to your account

take that into consideration

tae: how about you consider my fist in you face

ok i take that back

hobi: don’t

y/n: bryson tiller

tae: why not :(

you didn’t even know what i was gonna say hobi >.<

hobi: namjoon tell him to shut up

namjoon: tae please

tae: yeah ok 😔

cuz you know i do NOT want the smoke

he might do me like he did jaehyun 😭🙏🏼

hobi: will you STOP bringing that up

tae: will you send me a STACK?

hobi: no

tae: then NO

namjoon: both of you stop

also where is jimin??

physically i mean

like do any of you know?

yoongi: y/n’s house i think

y/n: no he’s not??

tae: woah

jk: btw that is also my house yoongi

so y/n AND jungkook’s house

yoongi: y/n and jungkook’s house then

y/n: he’s not here

yoongi: but he was

y/n: how do you even know that??

yoongi: i just do

y/n: ok ????

yoongi: ok

jk: ok \ ^0^ /

tae: wait

jk: JIMIN WAS IN OUR HOUSE ?????

jin: keep up ohmugod

jk: LIKE PHYSICALLY IN OUR HOUSE

WHERE I SLEEP AT NIGHT???

y/n: he wasn’t in my room no

if that’s what ur asking

jk: BUT HE WAS HERE???

AFTER HE WAS SO MEAN SO EVIL?!

y/n: it’s been weeks i was gonna talk to him at some point ig

hobi: communication is key!

not key from shinee btw

jk: WHEN DID HE COME????

WHY DID HE COME????

y/n: he came a few weeks ago

august 6th ? i think

to talk about everything and apologise

jk: you let him in?

tae: LIKE…

y/n: yes

jk: and where was i?

y/n: it was a wednesday so ur boxing class?

jk: i’ve been staying back for those classes

so he came late right?

y/n: yeah

jk: did you invite him?

y/n: no he kinda just showed up

jk: and you still let him in??

y/n: yes jungkook

jk: why didn’t you tell me??

y/n: i wasn’t trying to keep it a secret or anything it just a lot

like a lot seriously

i wanted to give both me and jimin some time to process it all before we brought it all back to you guys

but i was going to tell you

all of you

jk: yeah but like it’s been weeks…

namjoon: to be fair i also did talk to

jimin and didn’t tell anyone

jk: namjoon

jin: also did that

hobi: u all know i talked to him so…

jk: guys???

i’m confused like what he said was wrong but you’re all still talking to him

like everything’s ok???

namjoon: he apologised to her kook

jk: FUCK HIS APOLOGY?????

tae you get it right?? you didn’t speak to him right??

tae: no i get it

i get you

i understand fully

but i won’t lie to you

i DID speak to him

on the phone

only for 5 minutes tho

i counted

i just wanted to make sure he didn’t yk like kill himself or something…

you know jimin is weak like that

not calling people who commit suicide weak but like calling jimin weak cuz that’s what he is

jk: TAE?????????????

tae: SORRY SUICIDE IS REAL YK?

AND LIKE IT DOESNT TAKE AWAY FROM THE FACT THAT I STILL WANT TO PUNCH HIM IN THE FACE

i was just

uh

checking?

namjoon: you can say you were worried about him you know that

jk: SHUT UP???£/8/8/8,&&:&,

NO HE CAN’T

YOU ALL HAVE NO BACK BONE /£2&/&&:&:

NO LOYALTY

HE BASICALLY CALLED Y/N A WHORE AND YOUR ALL FRIENDS WITH HIM AGAIN??????

LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED?????

tae: NO I’M MAD IM STILL SO FUCKING MAD THE FUCK????

FUCK JIMIN I MEAN IT

jk: you are a liar

LIKE

guys what£/£/&/&:&:

i thought you guys were better than this ???

i thought you all cared

jin: don’t be stupid

of course we care

jk: then act like it????

y/n tell them

y/n: jungkook

jk: tell them

in fact

jk added jimin to “AGUST DUI🛴🔥”

jk: tell ALL of them

y/n: jungkook please

jk: y/n seriously

jimin: hey

jk: shut the fuck up

tae: dude

i know ur upset and angry but doing this rn isn’t gonna solve anything

namjoon: he’s right jungkook

ur acting on emotion and not thinking properly right now

jk: IM not thinking properly???

was jimin thinking properly when he called her a slut and then ran away like a bitch?? was he????

namjoon: obviously not jungkook

hobi: but they’ve talked it out and he’s said sorry

jk: HIS SORRY DOESN’T MEAN SHIT

WHAT DO YOU GUYS NOT UNDERSTAND?

his fucking sorry means nothing

him saying sorry doesn’t take back the words he said

or any of the hurt he caused

namjoon: jungkook like she told us they’ve talked about it and he’s apologised

i not sure what more you want

jk: I WANT YOU GUYS NOT TO MOVE ON SO FUCKING FAST??

I WANT YOU GUYS TO AT LEAST TELL HIM HOW FUCKED UP THAT ALL WAS

BOTH PUBLICLY AND PRIVATELY

he should be walking around eggshells around us rn

you guys should be giving him a hard time

not wondering where he is or whether he’s depressed or not

and you wanna know something?

after it all happened she cried for hours

hours

i have genuinely never seen her so upset

she told me not to tell anyone but i have to so guys can fucking understand

and the fact that we didn’t even know that her and jimin spoke???

does that not bother you all?????

the fact that she was “so fine” and “okay” about the whole situation but didn’t tell us that they had supposedly ‘made up’

tae: she said that she was planning on telling us

jk: yeah but she didn’t did she? it’s been weeks

she said they spoke august 6th right?

we are quite literally in a whole new month

and you ALL should know that when she doesn’t tell us things it’s because she’s upset

you should KNOW her

and how she deals with things

you all claim to care but i’m yet to see how

you know i was really excited about this

we were all you know realising

and coming to terms with this

us

i thought that we felt the same

but this has shown me that you guys don’t even feel a quarter of what i do for her

and you probably never will

the way that you all just took her word for her being fine and okay about the whole situation without actually genuinely checking in with her is insane and the way you all rushed to make sure jimin was ok was even crazier

i just

whatever

bye

—

as you can probably tell this was supposed to be released last month but i tried to adjust it as much as i could

tags: @piw6n @92jinnies @birdie-vhs @earthela @hob3loveofmylife @jujubiism @bloopkook @ratchetpizza1 @myntalks @arloo00 @watamotee33 @y2kcy3brz @taiwan0618 @freyadanvers @gguksbeloved @raetf @bbsantc @winuvs @medicinemybish @bxnnyhime @seokmyballs @baetukki @zyaaaszn @thelilbutifulthings @jazminethecreator @meowgiz @jmnscutie @threeopossumsinacoat @cynicalyoongs @lightningpussy54 @eunthv @gigiiislife @lowkeykin @iammeandmeisiam @socksfirstalways @knilvr06 @lailaisarmy @thvkives @xstfudaisyx @xxxanimangxxx @solstice34 @ml8dy @hoeforseoks @futuristicenemychaos @featjunranghae @jksgirlfrl @yeetedandoboi @stellamalonesolaria @joonsprettygf

#happytimessoon >.<

[gxbbyhoneybadger]

Hi! I was wondering if you could write a Predator x reader?

Leads to smut (0u0")

Where he breaks into he readers house/apartment for safety, he looks around and his heat sensors pick up the readers body heat.. He notices she's mostly defenseless but searchers her for weapons.. in the process he's touching her everywhere then leaves. he comes back a few nights later to see her and then BOOM SMUTTY SMUT!

This. . . This is just amazing! Ofc, and enjoy the treat. I'm gonna use Scar boy from AvP, he's my favorite Yautja out of them all heheheh. This is also my first monster/predator smut so. . . Please do be gentle with the comments if u don't approve 🥹

A/n: the Yautjas can roughly speak human languages, I'm using this from the end scene of Predator (1987) movie. I'll give them a reason to speak as well, don't worry. There's a plot for that lol.

Mission XXXIV-XXXV

Pairing: !Yautja!Scar x !F!Shy!Reader

Summary: After making an escape from the Alien Queen, Scar manages to hide away within an empty home—not knowing who was still there and wide awake. After finding and searching the shy human to make sure that she was no threat, she was rather aroused by the strange creature's lingering touches. When he leaves, he can't get the woman out of his mind, causing the Yautja to run back to where she was just a few nights later to finish what he had unintentionally started.

Warnings: Blood and gore, death, adult language, eventual smut, gentle sex (Scar a horny mf but he's a gentle giant imo), size kink, oral (F receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before ya tap it folks), fluff, anonymous ending.

Part 2

Minors DNI 🔞 18 below the cut

--

Many things happen for a reason, times of events line up for destruction or something wonderful. Not right now apparently, not for Scar. This was destruction, he wiped out the rampant Xenomorph younglings, now the Queen was left. She was raging with fury as she searched for the few Yautjas who were hiding and planning their ways to kill the unforgiving creature.

Scar was wounded—bleeding out the neon green substance from his left shoulder. He shouldn't have let his guard down, he could've spotted that one Xenomorph that leapt at him. At least he made it out alive, he'll make it back to his planet soon. He entered a home, it was dark but he used his mask to read the room. Everything was clear, before he saw the acidic burn on a book that fell onto the floor from the fallen bookshelf.

His guard was already on high alert, his weapon at hand as he slowly approached a broken door where he saw a tail of a Xenomorph lying lifeless. It was already dead, he scanned the room once more, this time using the heat sensor built within his mask. He caught the glowing body within the dark kitchen, the lights flickered on by her trembling hand. She seemed to stunned to even react by the giant watching her, her clothes were disheveled, a few cuts on her arms but not too much damage.

She didn't move from her place, still taking in who this was. "You're one of them. . ." She muttered before her eyes moved to the side. Scar followed her gaze and saw one of his fallen brothers dead in the corner, impaled through the chest most likely from the Xenomorph itself. His neon green blood coated his stilled chest and the ground beneath him.

". . . I didn't know. . . what to do. . . he tried to. . ." She whispered. Scar looked at the dead alien next, seeing that it's head and neck was severely wounded by one of the Yautjas weapons: A Wrist Scythe.

He looked to her and saw the weapon around her arm that she must've taken from the corpse to defend herself from the Xenomorph. "I-I'm s-so sorry. . ." She mumbled. His mandibles clicked as he lifted his hand and held out his index fingers, slowly circling his wrist—telling her to turn around. She read his silent command and turned around, dropping the Wrist Scythe she held behind her back as she rested her hands against the wall.

Scar scanned her body, reading the wounds she sustained as his large claws grazed over her smaller arms. His entire hand could wrap around her neck if he dare harmed her, but he was simply checking for any hidden weapons she may have carried. Gently letting his hands lower down from the sides of her breasts to her waist and hips, his large hands then clasped over her left thigh. The bridge between his thumb and index finger softly brushed against her sensitive nether regions.

She silently scolded herself to stop thinking about such disgusting thoughts, she didn't even know what this thing was or what was happening. Y/n was a shy person, not really out there in the dating or hookup life. But her thoughts were rather intrusive about this strange being that was touching her.

She felt her face heat up from the unintentional touch, he moved on and checked her other thigh—again, touching her nether regions. Palming around her calf before he stood back up and towered over her frame, his shadow completely swallowed her own. His large mitt held her left shoulder and turned her to face him. She followed his movement and let him scan her body.

He read her vitals and smelled something. . . Something rare for any Yautja to smell from a human, her very own arousal, her vitals showed that her heart was beating erratically, a sign of nervousness while her body heat rose significantly, her pupils widened as she looked away from him. She was healthy and stable, but aroused and nervous around him. Scar stepped back and looked at the fallen Yautja, Y/n slowly slid down the wall and sighed.

". . . Um. . . I. . . I'm Y/n. . . Not that, you'd need to know. . . or anything. . ." She said, Scar looked down at her, his dreadlocks hanging over his shoulders as he tilted his head. His mask translating her words into his own language, his understanding of the human languages and different types were vaguely known to his species. Only a rare few of Yautja elders knew the humans entire lot of languages by memory, no mask needed for translation.

Scar was learning bit by bit each day he spends on earth hunting down worthy opponents, and Bad Bloods. "You're hurt. . ." Her shying voice said, bringing Scar's attention back to her, "Your shoulder is bleeding. . . are. . . are you okay?"

Clicking his mandibles again, he grabbed the items he needed and started to clean his wound and patch it up. Y/n grunted as she stood up and wandered towards the dead Xenomorph, she watched it, lightly kicking it's leg to see if it really was dead. . . which it was.

After he finished patching his injury when he saw Y/n standing by the body. It twitched just a little bit caused her to jump back and squeak with fear, making Scar's mandibles click in a chuckling way at her reaction. She growled and kicked the body before looking at Scar who was checking outside for any sign of the Queen nearby. The coast was clear and he turned to pick up his fallen brother's body.

"W-Wait!" She gasped when he walked out of the door, he paused in his step and glanced at her as she stumbled out of her house while watching him with a tiny glimmer of appreciation. ". . . D-Do you have a name?" She asked him.

Scar didn't say or do anything as a response, he looked away and continued to walk away, leaving the girl alone.

~Three Days Later~

He couldn't stop thinking about her voice, her eyes, the shy voice and her smell. He refused to go back to her for three days, for those three days he still couldn't stop thinking about her. Her bravery to take on a Xenomorph, one that even a Yautja couldn't defeat.

His species never mated for life, they simply procreated to reproduce for their species. To grow more warriors for more hunts, their mating wasn't loving either. The females were known to be rough and quite deadly with the males, just making it out alive and injured was considered lucky after their mating.

But after that, they'd go their separate ways. Mating with others and every four hundred days, they'd all mate again for reproduction. But here was a Yautja, searching for the same female he had ran into by accident, a female who wasn't even a part of his species, no, of course, she was human. A species that was noteworthy of being their opponents to hunt and kill, perhaps even ally with.

But something. . . Something shined from this human, and it wasn't because of the thermal scan. This human, this female human of the human race killed a Xenomorph when one of his kind failed to do so. She wasn't a regular human, she was a warrior.

Scar quietly remained perched up in a tree as his scanners searched her house. The damaged parts of the house were cleaned up and repaired over the days, the light in her bedroom was the only thing on. There he saw her exit the restroom, wearing nothing but a towel around her body as she brushed through her semi-dried hair. She seemed low and lonely as she sat on her bed, not even hearing the camouflaged Predator entering her home.

~Y/n pov~

I turned and looked at my folded clothes to wear; it's been three days, whoever that creature was isn't coming back. I already know that's the truth, but it's so hard to accept. For those three days, I couldn't stop thinking about him. Those large hands, the claws, those dreadlocks and his large abs lining his abdomen. Fishnets on his legs, his large build, his tall height.

He couldn't be just six feet, he had to be close to seven at least. I felt stupid when I remembered how I touched myself last night, thinking about him in such erotic ways. I don't even know what he was or who he was, and yet there I was—finger fucking myself over him.

He didn't even answer me or anything, I don't even know if he had a name. I was more pissed off at myself as I stood to grab my clothes, I opened my shirt and sighed as I turned around. Gasping as I dropped the piece of clothing when my eyes landed on the behemoth in front of me. Him. . . It was him! He was here. . .

He was back. . . But. . . why? Shit, what is he going to do? Kill me? Finish whatever job he had to be here? He stepped forward and I couldn't move, I was either scared or really brave to face this giant. . . I highly doubt that I was brave, I was just petrified. I saw him raise his hand at me, was he going to strangle me? Break my neck? I closed my eyes and accepted my fate, maybe he'll make it quick.

But that anticipation was for nothing, I slightly gasped when his claw dragged against my cheekbone. I opened my eyes to see his fingers gentle caressing my skin with care, it really showed me how truly big he was. His hand could cover my entire face, I looked up at his metal covered mask, those dreadlocks were out of this world. Hesitance drowned my confidence as I lifted my hand towards him, slowly and steadily.

He didn't move or growl, that was a good sign. . . right?

I let the tip of my index finger brush one of his dreadlocks, he seemed to have shuddered from the contact. I moved my hand—thinking I did something to cause him discomfort, but that was debunked when his hand held my much smaller wrist. He brought it up to encircle one of his dreadlocks, it felt smooth, rubbery almost, fake to the touch. But it was real nonetheless.

"Y-You're back. . . Why did you come back?" I asked him with a stutter lining my words. I heard the familiar clicking come from behind his mask, I didn't understand what he was saying but I saw his hand lift towards the tubes connected to the side of his mask before pulling them out. A hiss of air was heard when his hand lifted the disguise.

I didn't know what to think when I saw his face, those large mandibles, sharp pointed teeth, sharp and deadly eyes. Never in my life have I seen a creature like him, this was an extraterrestrial level. Forget E.T, this guy definitely takes the cake. I lifted my hand and grazed my finger over his lower jaw mandibles, they clicked and spread open to reveal his teeth within.

I couldn't stop looking at him, but when I did I glanced at the towel I was wearing. My heart rate picked up as I argued back in forth in my head. What if this is truly the last time I ever see him? He'll be gone, what if he forgets about me? This is my only chance, I've never done this before, but this'll be one hell of a first time story for anyone to hear.

I closed my eyes and gulped before bringing my hand towards my towel, I looked back at the creature before pulling the cloth loose—feeling it fall down to my ankles and the cool air breeze across my bare breasts. I shuddered as the coolness, but kept my eyes on his. His clicking grew to a low growl, almost like a warning sign.

Did I read the signs wrong-? oh fuck! I can't even get a regular guy and here I am, not even getting a damn alien or whatever he was to—"Bee-U-Tiff-all. . ." His semi-audible voice growled out. I gasped at the wonder of his voice, it sounded like he tried to put the words together correctly, but with struggle of course. I grew a light smile as I placed my hand on his chest.

"I don't know. . . if you can understand what I'm saying but: you. . . are the most amazing thing I've ever seen walk the earth. . ." I said to him. His large calloused hand slithered up my arm and towards my neck, his thumb gently pushed my chin to look up at him. His large head tilted to the side as he used his unintelligible clicking to communicate to me.

"I don't understand what you're saying. . . But if you mean. . ." I glanced at my bed then back at him, I took his hand and led him near it before I let him go, crawling backwards on the bed and watched him, "If I'm misinterpreting whatever you're trying to say. . . Then I'm sorry. . . But if I'm right. . . Then can you. . . be gentle? I-I've never. . . did this." I mumbled awkwardly.

He seemed to have understood that rather quickly when he held my ankle and lifted it, like he was examining my skin before he rested his knee on the bed. Pulling me closer and spreading my legs, I whimpered at my exposed place. He's ten times my size, yet he's being gentle as he could be. Maybe this will feel good like my friends say.

~~~

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Not good! Oh fuck! I was laying on my stomach, my ass was perched up and this thing was hovering over my back while his unnatural massive cock was prodding at my unexplored entrance. His hands were locked on my waist as he rubbed himself against me, I mewled from the sensation, it was some sort of friction for me.

He was so big, I was terrified on how he'll even make it fit inside of me. I'll barely get the tip in alone! Without warning me, he turned me over on my back again and knelt on the ground. He held my thighs open before letting his forked tongue run over my clit—there I gasped as I clenched the bedsheets.

"Ah!" I moaned, it was a strange feeling, but it felt good. I heard his growling rumbling within his chest as his hands squeezed my thighs. I wanted to touch him, but I wasn't sure of what he was comfortable with so I kept my hands to myself. I felt his mandibles slightly dif into my pelvic area as his lower ones cupped the backs of my rear, his tongue then slithered inside of my glistening petals and through my cunt.

My legs started to shake when his tongue flickered over my clit as he started to tease my labia. I felt my sweat beginning to form over my chest and forehead, I started to feel the tightening string building inside of me. He fully plunged his tongue deeper inside of me and struck the cord—my back lifting off the bed as I bit my hand to not moan out loud. With trembling legs and the flash of white blurring my vision, I didn't even see or feel him turn me back over on my stomach.

But I did feel that initial sting when his cock pushed into me, I used my pillow to squeal into as he added more pressure. Slowly but surely breaking through my hymen, my tears started to sting my eyes as his hands pushed down my shoulder—making my chest lay flat on the bed as I endured it.

His cock was large, too large, it filled me up as he started to slowly thrust, each thrust made his length dig deeper inside of me. I choked on my whimper as he slammed against my cervix, "FUCK!" I screamed out. He remained still and lowly purred beside my head, not moving and letting me adjust to the sheer size of him. My knuckles turned white as I clenched the sheets, I whined when he slightly moved. He was growling while letting his hands touch my body, I felt his dreadlocks drag across my skin.

After a minute or so, he slowly pulled back and pushed forward. Filling me again, he surely reached the deepest parts of me. Mewls and gasps came from me as he continued with his slow motions, rolling his hips into me and growling, letting out snarls and purrs as he clenched my hips—his claws digging into my skin to resist the urge to go faster. I appreciated the thought, but was terrified if he did let loose on me.

"Ah, Ngh! K-keep goi-NG!" I moaned while hugging my pillow with tears. I felt my sweat beginning to coat my forehead and my back, I felt him lower down and lick the shell of my ear with his forked tongue. A whimper flowed from my lips when he picked up the pace just a bit, I could feel his balls hitting my clit just right. They were so big slapping against me; I choked on my air when he pulled me up on his chest.

He hugged my waist and started to thrust into me again, I reached towards one of his locks and brought it to my lips to kiss. He roared and started to grope my breasts while thrusting quicker, each thrust was heavy and deep. His scale like arms held me tight, his claws tracing over my nipples as his mandibles clicked right next to my ear.

My body felt like it was going to split in half from his cock, I was shocked by my moaning and my begging for more of him. I held his arm while I shut my eyes to enjoy this overriding pleasure, my orgasm was approaching as he continued to grind against me. He laid me down again and snarled—digging his nails into my flesh as he restrained himself, I bit the pillow and squealed when the ball tightening within me snapped.

My back arched as I pushed against him, moaning as I felt my desire squirt out of me. That white bliss glossed over my vision, leaving small black dots to see as he continued to grind against me. He didn't stop, his thrusting grew more intense as he clawed at the sheets to avoid harming me—I covered my ears when he roared out. Then gasping when he finished inside of me.

It felt warm, and thick—I could feel his thick desire coating the walls of my uterus and filling my cunt to the brim. His dreadlocks were dragging over my shoulders as he slowly got up from me, I winced feeling him pull out from me. I felt his cum leaking out of me. I felt so tired, drained of all my energy.

His arms gently turned me over, my eyes felt droopy, they started to close when I felt him cover me with a blanket and pick me up before his deep voice growled out, "Sc—aar."

Unaware of where he was taking me. I don't know how long I was out but I was still sleeping. Until I heard more clicking and snarls from other creatures near me.

_____________________________________

I hope you enjoyed the smut! Feel free to follow and request for ur own!

[exoticb-utters]

Hi, could you do a little Hank McCoy x reader story, about Hank jealous (I love your previous story, it was very cute)💙

oooou yes ofc, I love making my men jealous 🤗

Feeling Jealous?

“Flufftober” series. 1 🎃 Jealous Hank X GN Reader ‘Fluff’ Word Count: 1.7k

You met Hank in college; yes, before he was big and blue. Also meaning, you inevitably met in your biology class. 

While you attended the class for credits, he attended just for fun. Turns out he already had all his credits, he just really liked science.

He was freakishly smart, like genius level intelligent. 

You first met him on the first day of class, sitting in the very front row of the lecture hall. 

You saw no one else was sitting in his row, so you decided to sit next to him. I mean…he looked a little lonely and you felt bad. 

You sat down next to him, leaving one seat between the two of you. You flashed him a small smile before pulling out your notebook and pencils. 

Unbeknownst to you, Hank was utterly gobsmacked at the fact someone so beautiful just so happened to sit next to him.

He’d always been academic-centered, not really getting involved with relationships to avoid distractions. 

But…he’s not so sure anymore. 

He returned your smile with a small nod, adjusting his glasses with a finger. Suddenly, the collar of his shirt was starting to feel too tight, and the classroom air was much too hot. 

Every class you exchanged small talk, a “What was that last line?” here, maybe even a “Is the quiz Tuesday or Thursday?” there. 

This inevitably progressed into you pairing yourselves into group work, which then turned into you becoming study buddies. 

Along the way somewhere, it ultimately blossomed into a good friendship. It was the most you could ask for anyway, having a crush on your guy best friend is no easy feat.

He was smart, sweet, a huge dork, hot, and was never hesitant to help you if you ever needed it. Most of your friends have been pushing you to ask him out- make a move even. 

But of course, the fear of rejection and the mere thought of ruining your friendship was stronger. So you’d admire from a distance, no matter how grueling it was. 

♡ ♡ ♡

“Hey, study sesh tonight? Usual time?” You say, walking out of class with Hank. 

“Yeah, but isn’t the library closed for tonight?” He replied as you both walked through the hallway, side by side as usual. “Really? I didn’t know that…” You hum in thought. 

“Well, my roommate should be out for the night…why not just have it over at my place?” Hank suddenly suggests with a shrug. You looked back at him in surprise, you’d never been to his dorm. The thought filled you with butterflies and curiosity.

Hank saw your shocked expression and thought he crossed a line. Before he could defend himself you stopped him. 

“Uh, yeah that’s fine. Five right?” You chuckled, walking through the main doors that led outside. 

“Yeah, sounds good!” He quickly replies, smiling at you. You began walking to your left before realizing Hank was going in the direction of the dorms. “W-wait, where are you going?” Hank called after you, stopping you in your tracks.

“Oh just stopping by a friend’s place- actually I’ll send you the address and you can pick me up and we can start the session!” You answer before giving him a final wave. 

Okay… that was strange. 

Hank knew he wasn’t your only friend, someone like you is bound to be popular. 

This just left a…weird feeling in his chest.  

He shook his head, snapping himself out of it. How childish, he’d see you in a couple of hours anyway.

Hank passed the next couple of hours by napping, not caring enough to do much anything else since most of his school work would be finished with you anyway. 

Once the alarm he’d set earlier went off, he got up and grabbed his keys and binder before walking out the door.

After making his way out the door and into his car, he pulled up the address you sent him.

He pulled up to the location and texted you a quick “here!” before getting out of the car. He walked up to the door, raising his hand to knock before spotting a doorbell. 

“That’s a better idea…” Hank mumbled quietly to himself, pressing the button with a finger. He heard the soft chime from inside the house before the sound of footsteps approached the door. 

The door was then swung open, revealing a stereotypical jock. The man had a couple inches on Hank, blonde hair, conveniently attractive (by societal standards anyway), and probably on the school’s football team. Hank’s heart sank. 

You were right behind him, of course. You push past him, removing him from the doorway. He rolled his eyes at your actions, you two must be close. “Oh, Will! This is Hank, the one I was telling you about earlier.” You say, motioning your hand towards Hank. 

He felt flattered you were talking about him to your...friend? Well, you did say you were stopping at a friend’s house earlier. You never even mentioned having a boyfriend, and Hank never asked; he feared it would come off…weird.  

“Ohh, yeah- Study session guy. Have fun.” ‘Will’ waved to you as you walked back to the car with Hank, and to his despair- you waved back. With a smile. 

He got into the car, starting the engine with a small huff. His hands tightened ever so slightly on the wheel, thoughts running wildly. Hank was never the jealous type, but not having your attention right now felt…wrong. 

It left a bad taste in his mouth, and he didn’t like it at all.

“Hey Hank! Thanks for picking me up.” You greet him with that sweet smile, closing the door behind you. 

He mumbles out a quiet reply as he shifts the car into reverse, backing out of the driveway.

Your brows furrow in confusion, not able to read his expression. He seemed almost…mad? No…maybe he was disappointed? 

You open your mouth to speak but Hank cuts you off. “So how was it?” 

You’re left confused, his question sounding more deadpan than the casual enthusiasm he’d usually have. 

“Uh, it was good…Just had to grab something…” You trail off, eyeing Hank cautiously as if he would explode at any minute now. This wasn’t like him. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m perfectly fine.” He hums, not missing a beat. He takes a turn before reaching a hand up to adjust the glasses that sat on his nose. 

“You just seem a little off, are you sure?” You ask again, studying his face for any more hints. 

“Yes.” Another curt reply leaves his lips. You let out a sigh, crossing your arms begrudgingly. Why was he being so difficult?!?

You decided to let him be, not having the energy to go back and forth with Hank of all people. The rest of the car ride was in tense silence, the atmosphere almost suffocating.

Once you reach his dorm, things carry out as usual…or so it would seem. Hard to ignore the way things went down just a few moments ago in his car. 

Hank opened his dorm room, flicking on the lights as he made his way to a desk in the far corner. You close the door behind yourself, Hank taking out his notes from class. 

He began flipping through the pages in silence, eyes quickly scanning each paper for the material you’d be going over tonight. 

You linger in place by the door, watching him as nothing but the sound of pages flipping fills the air. Clearly, you couldn’t carry out your session with him acting like this. 

You walk over, standing behind him with crossed arms. He turned around, the page-turning still continuing. He glanced at you over his glasses for a brief moment, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well?” You speak, mimicking the raised brow. “You’re the one just standing there.” He quips, pushing his glasses up with a finger. 

“Why have you been acting like this? You weren’t grumpy earlier today, why now?” You question, looking up at him. Yes, he had a couple inches on you, but you were not going to let that thought linger.

“Acting like what?” He replies, setting down his binder with a look. You roll your eyes with a huff. “Like a dick quite frankly.”

You could tell he didn’t expect your answer to be so frank, his blue eyes widening slightly. “Did I do something wrong Hank?” You say softly, your tone coming off more quiet this time.

Hank’s gaze softened, taking off his glasses before rubbing the bridge of his nose. “No sorry I just-“ He pauses, exhaling sharply. “I’ve been acting really childish and I apologize…”

There was a short pause, a heavy silence falling over the room. “Who was that guy? Will right?” He said, leaning against the wall with crossing his arms. 

“Yeah, he’s my friend.” You say, wondering where this was coming from. “He’s not a boyfriend?” He asks cautiously, his voice quieter than before.

Was this why he was so upset???

“No…I’m very single actually.” You hint, clearing your throat a little. Hank was so smart; but so, so oblivious. 

He felt a flicker of hope in his chest. Here goes nothing. 

He left his place in the wall, striding towards you. “So, would there be- I dunno…a chance you’d go out with me?” He glances down at his feet, before looking back at you. 

“Hank…” You start, but you don’t even know what to say. This was exactly what you’ve been waiting for. 

Hank’s expression fell at your pause. Oh no. He made it awkward. “It’s fine if you say no, I was just asking! Please don’t feel obliged to-“ You cut him off before he can ramble on.

“Hank I’ve liked you since we sat together in Bio. I’d love to go out with you sometime.” You wave your hand dismissively in the air. 

“Wait Hank…did you ask if Will was my boyfriend because you were…jealous?” You quirk a brow with a smile. 

His face instantly flushed at your words. “Um…no.” He mumbles, covering his face with a hand. Very convincing. 

You pull him in close in a tight hug. “I’m just glad you feel the same Hank.” 

So now, when you notice that certain look in your husband’s eyes when a man tries to make a pass on you, it reminds you much of his younger self. 

You simply just smile, giving him a quick peck to the cheek to reassure him. “You know I love you Hank~” 

“You know I love you too, dear.” He’ll smile, all worries melting away. 

What was he so jealous about before?

[tkwrites]

Sarah Meets the Parents - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Photo from Pinterest. Did I crop the brothers out of this photo because I couldn't find any of Quinn with just his parents? Yes, yes I did.

Title: Sarah Meets the Parents

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts (OFC) 

Warnings: None? If I should add any, please let me know. 

Summary: As Requested, Sarah meets Ellen and Jim.

Word Count: 5,300

Comments: This fic has been in the back of my mind for so long. I originally didn’t intend for it to be it’s own Snapshot, but it was heavily requested, so here it is. I hope you enjoy! 

fallinallincurls asked: i LOVED your latest quinn & sarah fic and was curious if we’ll get to see sarah meet jack & luke/his parents?? I already know i’d absolutely love that fic so much omg

dasiysthings asked: I seriously hope you’re planning a chapter/s on Sarah meeting Ellen, Jim, Luke and Jack! Because the new one meeting Brady is simply the cutest 🥰

Sarah Meets the Parents

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

There weren't many things Ellen could say she knew for certain, but she did know her eldest son had never been in love. 

In high school, he thought he'd been in love as much as a teenager can without the maturity or full understanding of the concept. When he got to college, he dated, but every girl they met seemed to be in his life for convenience more than because of any kind of real chemistry. Then there was the mess with June. He'd been so in lust with her that he overlooked and defended all her actions to his own detriment. 

Quinn had been what he thought was head over heels about her. Each time Ellen tried to bring up any concerns, he bulldozed over her worry, explaining away every bad thing June said or did. The only thing he seemed to hear when Ellen brought it up was the, “I like her,” part of the conversation, while brushing aside the follow up, “but I'm worried.”

When they met her, Quinn had been nervous, almost as if he was bracing for the worst. It was a strange thing to hear him talk about how much he liked her, while at the same time acting a bit scared of how she would react to things. 

It was terrible to watch him get into that relationship, calling it love when it clearly wasn’t - at least not on June's part - and then after it finally fell apart, having to dig his way out again. 

Over the past few months, she'd noticed a change in Quinn.

He called to ask her about supporting someone in grief, but didn’t tell her anything other than he was going out with someone who had lost a parent. 

Since then, he’d talk about this girl - this woman - named Sarah every time they were on the phone. She naturally dropped into their conversations about what he’d been doing. After a month, she’d asked him, “Are you dating her?” 

“Yeah,” he’d admitted as his cheeks went ruddy over the facetime video, “I really like her.” 

Quinn often blushed - that pale skin of his didn’t hide much - but she’d never seen him blush over a girl quite like this. He seemed almost bashful. 

He told her how Sarah was in grad school, and how they got along so well. He didn’t always give details, but she could see that he was happy and more settled than she'd seen him in a long time. 

When Luke had called to ask her if she knew he had a girlfriend, the only thing that shocked her was that he was using that term before telling her about it. Even more so that he hadn’t told his brothers about her at all. 

When she found out the title “girlfriend” had come from Brady and not from Quinn himself, and they talked about his reasoning for holding back from his brothers, it made much more sense. 

Coming to Vancouver this time, she wasn’t sure if this certainty would continue to hold true or not. 

On the surface, she and Jimmy were coming in to visit Quinn and hopefully see the Canucks clinch into their first playoff berth since 2020. Their first real playoff berth since the mid 2000s. Even with all that excitement, they also wanted to meet this woman Brady liked well enough to jump straight into calling Quinn's girlfriend. 

Knowing things in his life had changed didn't prepare her for the shift she saw in Quinn when he picked them up from the airport. 

He hopped out of the car and hugged her tightly. “I'm so glad you're here,” he said before hugging Jim and helping him load the bags.

This was the same song and dance he did every time they came to visit, but this time, Quinn had a twinkle in his eye and a spring in his step she'd never seen before. He was even humming on the drive to his condo, despite the city traffic. 

They were already in different territory than they’d been with June. Quinn was a little nervous now. She could see it in the tap of his fingers on the steering wheel and the way his left knee bounced, but it wasn't that same kind of bracing nervousness it had been with June. This seemed more like the jittery nerves he used to get before a big game when he was younger. He seemed hopeful. 

They talked about their flight and things back home in Michigan. 

“Are we still meeting Sarah?” Jim asked. He had a way of cutting straight to the heart of a conversation. It was a skill Ellen had appreciated all their life together.  

“Yeah, she's at my place,” Quinn said with this goofy little smile she didn’t see on him very often. “She was making dessert when I left.” 

More than just to appease her maternal anxiety, Ellen was so interested to meet this woman who had turned her intense, hockey obsessed little boy into such a love boat. 

“I think you're really going to like her,” he was saying. 

If she made Quinn this happy, Ellen had no doubt she would. 

Glancing at Jimmy in the back seat, she found him watching Quinn with a quiet intensity. When he noticed her gaze, he turned a reassuring smile on her. 

When the door to Quinn’s apartment opened, Sarah took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. This was an exciting and joyous occasion. It was also nerve wracking, sad and a little bit painful, and it was okay to hold all those things at once. She imagined welcoming each emotion into her heart and mind like Jenny, her therapist, had taught her. It was better to feel them than to stuff them down. 

Treat them as visitors, she reminded herself, no emotion lasts forever.

“I’ll go get her,” she heard Quinn say.

The excitement shining in his face when Quinn came into the kitchen made her smile.

He gathered her into a quick, tight hug, “you ready?” 

She tucked her face into his neck for a moment, holding him a little longer to fortify herself. 

“Okay, I'm ready,” she took a step back, “I don't have anything in my teeth, do I?” 

“No, you're good.”

Taking her hand, he led her into the living room where his parents were waiting, standing in front of the couch.

“Sarah,” Quinn said, finding himself less nervous than he expected, “these are my parents, Ellen and Jim. Mom, dad, this is Sarah.” 

The first thing she thought was how Quinn had pieces of both his parents: Jim’s wide smile and thick chest, and Ellen's bone structure. 

Ellen was lithe and strong - shaped like a woman who was an athlete all her life, even as an empty nester. Jim looked like a jovial dad - like most of her friends' fathers, like her own too - who played sports when they were younger, but were a bit more relaxed in their later years.

To Ellen, Sarah looked like the kind of girl she always hoped her boys would end up with. She had a kind smile and hopeful, smart eyes.

Quinn was obviously in love with her. He was practically glowing with it. He looked at her like she was the best, brightest thing in the room - like he’d never get bored of seeing her face. She’d never seen him look so lovestruck before. She didn’t know he even could.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Sarah said, extending her hand, “Quinn talks about you all the time.” 

Jim took her hand in both of his and gave her a friendly smile. “It’s nice to meet you too.” 

Ellen bypassed her hand, and went in for a quick hug.

Quinn watched as the surprise on Sarah’s face melted into a smile as they embraced. 

Feeling the nervous energy radiating off of Sarah, Ellen tried to put her more at ease. “You're so much prettier than Quinn let on,” she said as she stepped back. They’d seen pictures of her - well one picture of her. The selfie Quinn had shared with his brothers. The photo didn’t capture how blue her eyes actually were or show any of her curvy figure. 

“Oh, thank you,” she said, a flush glowing on her cheeks.

The conversation lulled and Quinn jumped in. “Well, dinner’s ready if you’re hungry,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder, “or we can relax for a while before we eat.” 

“I’m famished,” Jim said, holding a hand to his stomach. 

“Then let's eat.” 

As they settled around the table, Ellen took note of the way Sarah helped Quinn bring out dishes before finally settling into the seat on his left. 

“So, Sarah,” Jim said once they'd all dished up, “Quinn tells us you golf.” 

She swallowed quickly, nodding. “Yeah, my dad taught all of us when we were young. We went every Sunday as a family until I left for college.” 

“I bet you’re pretty good then.” 

“I’m decent,” she said with a shrug. 

Quinn rolled his eyes. “She shot the lights out and beat us all last weekend. Petey included.” 

She gave a smile to her dinner plate, but didn’t deny it or try to placate Quinn’s feelings. Ellen instantly liked that about her. 

“What does your dad do?” 

“Ma,” Quinn cut in, an exasperated look on his face. 

Sarah lay a hand over his, “it’s fine.” Looking back to Ellen, she said, “my dad was an aerospace engineer, but he passed away four years ago.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head, “I forgot Quinn told us.”

“Thank you, but it’s really fine. I don’t expect everyone to remember - it’s just part of life.” 

While Sarah took the faux pa with grace, Quinn was a little embarrassed his mom didn’t remember.

“And you’re getting your PhD?” Jim asked. 

“I’m not quite to that level,” she said with a self-deprecating laugh. “Just my masters. You really only need a doctorate if you want to teach and that's not really something I'm interested in.” 

“In Marine Biology?” 

“Zoology,” she corrected, “they’re similar fields, but we focus solely on the animal kingdom rather than ocean life as a whole.” 

“I bet that’s fascinating,” Ellen said. 

“I think it is, but I’ve always loved the ocean.” 

“So what will you do with that degree?” 

“Mostly work in aquariums, but there’s some work in conservation, which I feel really passionately about, so I’d prefer that.” She paused for a moment before continuing, “Ellen, Quinn told me you're working with the national women's hockey team, that must be really cool.”

Ellen had come into this dinner thinking she would have to drive the conversion like she had with most of the girls her boys dated. It was a refreshing change of pace to find Sarah willing to do part of the work.

“Yeah. It's nice to step into that coaching role formally for the first time. It's really amazing to see how far the sport has come for women.”

“Oh, I bet,” Sarah said. “I started following the new women's league after I met Quinn and it's cool to see them play on such a big stage.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I hardly knew anything about hockey when we met. So I started reading articles, and I subscribed to The Athletic, and I know a little more now. It's a whole world I'm still trying to figure out.”

The dedication that showed was impressive. 

“You'd never watched hockey before?” Jim asked.

“I mean, I'm sure my dad had it on during the Olympics, but I never paid that much attention to it.”

“Remind me where you're from?”

“Nevada.”

“I bet there weren't many opportunities for you to see hockey when you were a kid.”

“No,” she laughed. 

When dinner wound down, Sarah got up to clear the table. 

“You don’t need to do that,” Ellen said. “You helped with the meal.”

“You all haven’t seen each other in so long. I’ll take care of the dishes while you catch up,” she said, reaching under Jims protesting arm to lift his plate. 

Ellen smiled gratefully at her and tried to think if any of her boys had dated such thoughtful women before. 

Glad for a moment alone to gather her thoughts and emotions, Sarah loaded the dishwasher before finishing the tart. 

Surprisingly, the sadness she'd expected to feel never came. At least, not as strongly as she'd braced for. It seemed the build up and worry were worse. Instead, nerves sparked and fizzed in her stomach.

Before he'd left for the airport, Quinn had reassured her she didn’t have anything to worry about. While Ellen seemed especially friendly, she had a harder time reading Jim, who seemed to hold his cards closer to his chest.

At the very least, it was going better than when she met her college boyfriend's parents, who outright told her she was too good for their son while he sat across the dinner table. To this day, it was the most backhanded compliment she’d ever been given. It told her so much about his home life and explained the snide remarks he would make when she made a mistake or did something differently than he expected. She’d ended the relationship shortly thereafter.

As she arranged the raspberries, she hoped Ellen and Jim actually liked her, and weren’t just putting on a show to her face. 

“I like her, Quinny,” his mom said when he asked what they thought. 

He beamed. 

“I can tell she’s very driven.” 

“Yeah,” Quinn agreed. “I like that about her.” 

“I just worry -”

His smile slipped a bit. 

“You work in such different fields, and lead such different lives.” 

“So?”

“Well, I mean, what happens if you get traded somewhere where you’re not near the ocean?” 

“I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. I’ve been so focused on making the playoffs,” he admitted. Plus, he had three more years in Vancouver and would gladly stay longer if it was still a good fit. 

“Like I said, I like her. She seems really sweet and I can tell you like each other a lot, but I want you to pay attention to some of the things that might not be all sunshine and rainbows down the road. Relationships are about compromise, and I'm worried some of the compromises you may have to make might cause more of an impact than you’re used to.”

“Yeah, those are some good points," Quinn agreed. "I’ll talk with her about it.” He knew this honeymoon phase would end eventually. They were four weeks from the playoffs and three weeks from her finals. The next month would be a test, that was for sure. 

A relieved smile slid onto Ellen's face. He was being far more mature about this than he had when she expressed hesitations about June. Some of the worry uncoiled in her chest.

“What do you think, dad?”

“She’s very pretty.” 

“And?”

“And what?” 

“She’s pretty? That’s all you have to say?” 

“I don’t know, Q. I just met her. She’s pretty. She seems very smart.” 

Quinn dropped it. His dad would tell him what he thought eventually, but trying to pry an opinion out of him before he was ready was fruitless. 

All the same, Jim lit up when Sarah came in with the chocolate tart. 

“That looks delicious,” he said. “What's in it?”

“It's a chocolate cream mousse over a layer of caramel in a dark chocolate and almond crust. The raspberries on top help to cut some of the richness.”

“That sounds delicious.” 

Ellen took a bite, and felt her eyes flutter closed, “Sarah, this is divine.” 

“Thank you. It was my dads favorite.” 

Quinn put a comforting hand on her knee.

“It’s going to be dangerous to have this in the house,” Jim said, joking.

“Oh, I can take it to school tomorrow if you don’t want it around,” she offered. 

“I’m not sure I’m willing to give it up.”

She laughed, and Quinn shot her a quick, reassuring grin.

“Are you free tomorrow before the game?” Ellen asked when Sarah announced she should probably head home.

“Well, I have class in the morning, and then I’m at the aquarium until three, but I’m free afterward.” 

“I was thinking about getting a manicure and wondered if you wanted to go together.” 

“Oh, I can’t do manicures because my hands are always in the tanks.” 

Ellen felt her hesitations go up. When she had asked June this same thing, June had shot her down, telling her she’d just had her nails done. She didn't seem to catch the subtext of wanting to spend some time together without the boys around. 

“But I would love to get a pedicure if that might work?” 

“That sounds great. We can do that and then meet Jim for dinner and all go to the game together.” 

“That sounds really nice.” she said before yawning, “I’m sorry, I was up at 5 this morning to study for an exam. I’ve got to get home.” 

“I’ll drive you,” Quinn offered, slipping a protective arm around her. 

He told his parents, who were sharing a silent conversation with their eyes, he'd be back and led Sarah down to the parking garage. 

As soon as they were in his car, he asked, “so, what do you think?” 

“They’re really nice,” she said. “I can’t tell if your dad likes me or not, though.”

“That's just Jim,” he assured, reaching over to lace their fingers together. “He doesn't like most people when he meets them, but he'll come around.”

They were quiet for a while as Quinn brushed his thumb over her palm. Finally, he asked, "you okay?"

The very fact that he was checking in made her swoon a little.

"Yeah. It actually wasn't that bad. I mean, I miss them, but it wasn't as painful as I expected."

He squeezed her hand, "I'm glad."

"Thank you for checking."

Briefly taking his eyes off the road, he cast a startled look in her direction. "Why wouldn't I check in?"

"I don't know, just," she matched their fingertips together, gently pushing to move his, "it's just really nice to be seen."

He understood that. Sarah saw pieces of him most of the world didn't. With her, he wasn't Quinn Hughes, hockey prodigy. He was just Quinn, and she liked all the quieter parts of him, too.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said as he pulled up to her building.

Leaning over the console, she kissed him goodbye, lingering a little longer than usual.

"See you tomorrow," she echoed once she pulled away.

He watched her walk into the building before driving home.

The following afternoon, Sarah had to race across town as soon as she was off work to make the appointment Ellen had set up at a ritzy spa downtown.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, blustering into the waiting area, “the train was late, and I was…I got here as fast as I could.” 

“It’s fine,” Ellen said, giving her a quick squeeze before walking to the desk to let the attendant know everyone in their party had arrived. 

They got changed into their robes and were seated in some fancy chairs above marble foot basins. Sarah had never done anything this lavish. She went to get pedis with her mom and sister, but that was always down at the salon in the mall.

“Have you come here before?”

“Only once, but it was so lovely, I’ve thought about coming back every time we visit.” 

“It’s very nice.”

Ellen hadn’t failed to notice the way Sarah's eyes popped when they walked into the serene pedicure room. A part of her was relieved she wasn't used to such luxury. 

“It’s a little more opulent than what I’m used to back home,” Ellen admitted with a little laugh, “but it’s nice for a special occasion.”

Sarah felt herself relax. 

Since the night before, Ellen felt a bit like she'd stepped into some kind of time warp. She'd glanced away from her oldest son, and when she looked back, everything in his life had changed. Even the phone calls and facetimeing hadn’t prepared her for the way Sarah was in Quinn’s life in what already seemed like such a permanent way. 

Instead of watching their relationship bloom like she had with Luke and Kylee, who had followed a natural progression that was easy to track as they went from friends, to dating, and now long distance with Kylee already making plans to move to New Jersey when she graduated from Michigan, she was coming into something nearly fully formed.

She was glad for this time alone to get to know Sarah a little more.

“So, tell me about your research.” 

Sarah explained about Walter and how the hormone testing was going. She was writing a publication on it for her grant writing class that semester, and hoped to have it published in a scientific journal.

“That sounds really interesting.” 

“It is. It’s wild to see how he reacts to those small changes. It’s really rewarding to gather results with such traceable data.” 

“I bet. What do you do for fun?” 

“I honestly don’t have a lot of free time. Between school and work and spending time with Quinn, there’s not much leftover, but I really like reading, and I like to golf and hike when I can.” 

“You don’t do any ocean sports?” 

“I surfed casually when I was in Hawaii, but the water’s so cold here, I haven’t picked it up again.” 

“You lived in Hawaii?” 

“For about two years. I was working with a conservation non-profit. That’s where my love for the ocean really bloomed.”

“We’re going this summer. You’ll have to give us some recommendations.”

They talked for a long time about their vacation. Sarah promised to write up a list of suggestions. Ellen wondered if she might be joining them. Kylee was staying home, but that was because of a prior engagement on her part. 

“And Quinn’s been treating you well?” she asked, bracing for the response. Not that she expected Sarah to be totally truthful to her face.

“Oh, yes,” she said, not missing a beat. “He's the best guy I've ever dated.”

“Really?” The realistic side of her never expected to hear that. Ellen knew her sons. She knew how they could be selfish and too competitive and too focused on hockey. 

“Yeah. I mean, he gets in his head sometimes, but I do too. I was just thinking last night about how he's just the most caring person. I've never met someone so driven that's so kind and dedicated to the people in his life.”

The sincere look in Sarah's face told her just how truthful that statement was. It was the fulfillment of so many of her motherhood goals all at once, Ellen nearly teared up. “I'm really glad to hear that.”

Sarah smiled, and fiddled with the robe tie around her waist.

“Have you talked to the boys yet?” Ellen asked, even though she knew the answer. 

“The boys?”

“My other boys, Jack and Luke?” 

“Oh, yeah, we talked over facetime last week,” Sarah said. 

“Was it okay?” Ellen asked, picking up on the hesitation in her tone.

“I think so? Jack seemed kind of closed off, which, from the way Quinn talks about him, I didn’t really expect.” 

“I think that’s probably Quinn’s fault. He didn’t tell them about you until you met Brady, and usually he would have, so I think Jack’s feeling a little put out.”

“I didn't…why didn't he tell them?” she asked, wondering if perhaps he was embarrassed and wanted to make sure Brady approved before he was willing to share her with his family. 

“I think you should probably ask Quinn that, but it had a lot to do with June. I don't think he totally trusted himself after they broke up. Jack will come around once he sees how happy you and Quinn are together,” she assured.

Sarah felt herself blush. Hearing Ellen, even indirectly, acknowledge how happy they were, felt like a mountain climbed, like a battle conquered. 

At the end of the appointment, Ellen laughed when Sarah pulled her own sandals out of her robe pockets to wear while the polish dried in lieu of the spa supplied slides she was wearing. 

“I have this weird thing about wearing shoes that aren’t mine,” she said, slipping on the Birkenstocks. “I know they’re sanitary, but it’s just,” she shuddered, “gross to me.” 

After they changed, Ellen beat Sarah out to the reception desk. Sarah pulled her wallet out but Ellen shushed her gently, “it's my treat.” 

“Thank you. That's so nice.” 

Jim picked them up and drove to a restaurant near the arena Sarah recommended.

As they settled into the booth, Sarah on one side, and Jim and Ellen on the other, she told them, “I like this place because they have a testing menu, so there’s always something new and interesting. I’ve never had anything bad here.” 

They talked throughout. Sarah asked Jim about his consulting job, and he explained what he did and how his coaching career helped him get there. Ellen explained more of what she was doing with the women's hockey program. 

Even though it was a bit strange and a big step to have dinner with Quinn’s parents without him less than twenty four hours after they met, Sarah was glad to have some time to talk and get to know them a little more. Jim, especially, seemed more friendly.

At the end of the meal, Sarah tapped her card to the payment device before either of them could jump in. 

“You didn’t need to do that,” Ellen protested after the waiter walked away.

“You’re guests, you shouldn’t have to pay,” Sarah said.

Also, she wasn’t sixteen. She didn’t need her boyfriend's parents to pay for everything. 

 

When they got to their seats, Jim made sure Sarah was sitting between them. He usually would have put Ellen in the middle, but if she was, he wouldn’t get to talk with Sarah at all. 

He wasn’t blind. He saw the way Quinn looked at her, and knew if he had anything to say about it, Sarah would be in their lives for a long time. He needed to bite the bullet and get to know her now. 

They made some small talk, but once the game started, Sarah watched with a quiet intensity.

“You look a little confused,” he said, noticing Sarah's furrowed brow half way through the first period.

“I’m…” she paused, “I am.” 

“What are you confused about?” 

“I can look it up when we go to a commercial break,” she said, not wanting to be an inconvenience.

“I can answer you questions,” he offered.

“Okay,” she said, “but let me know if I'm talking too much.”

“How are you going to learn if you don't ask?” Ellen asked. 

“I just…I don’t want to overwhelm you, or take you out of the game.” 

Jim smiled, “we’ll let you know if you ask too many questions,” he assured. Most girlfriends he met would just watch, occasionally making comments. It was refreshing that Sarah wanted to understand Quinn's work so much.

When she smiled at him, he saw a flash of what had drawn Quinn to her. She was very pretty, but those bright, intelligent eyes made him want to talk to her. It was as if he knew she would be smart and interesting before she even said a word. 

“Okay, so as I understand it, Dallas is running a 2-1-2 forecheck, right?”

Jim blinked and looked at Ellen, who was mirroring his startled expression. 

“Right,” he said, confused as to where this was headed. Usually, when he had to explain the rules to someone new to hockey, their first question wasn’t about play strategy.

“So what I don’t understand is why the Canucks aren’t responding in kind. Wouldn’t it make sense to forecheck man to man?” 

“Well, firstly, when you’re chasing the other team down, it's referred to as backchecking.” 

“Okay, that makes sense."

He continued, “and it doesn’t always make sense to defend man to man. A lot of it depends on the way the coach wants the team to play."

“Okay, so can you explain the Canucks backchecking strategy to me?” 

“You know,” Jim said instead of getting into the very complicated reasoning behind play selection, “when you said you had questions, I expected them to be about icing or something.” 

“Oh, I asked Quinn and read the rules,” she said, flipping a hand, “I understand most of them now. I just don’t get the coach's motivation sometimes.” 

He laughed, “Welcome to being a hockey fan.”

Some of her worry eased at his laughter. Of course Quinn was right. He knew his own family best.

They continued talking through the game. Jim was impressed with the ferocity at which Sarah wanted to understand. She knew more than most of the girls his kids had dated in the past, but it was fairly obvious she got most of her knowledge from reading. Sometimes, when play went into a gray area, she would make a noise in her throat as if that would scold the refs into calling by the book. Even when Quinn ended up in the penalty box for a cross check most of the stadium was up in arms about, she watched the replay, shrugged and said, “I think that call was probably justified.” 

Even though the Canucks lost in overtime, it still gave them one of the three points they needed to get to the finals. The whole stadium was buzzing with possibility and hope. 

They all left together and Ellen drove her home. When she kissed Quinn goodbye in the back seat, Sarah tried not to feel like an awkward teen getting chaperoned, as if they couldn't be trusted on their own.

Getting back to the condo, Jim was glad for some time alone with Quinn. These moments after big games were something he cherished now that they happened so infrequently.

“You guys really rallied back in the third to get that extra point. I'm proud of you." 

“Thanks dad.” 

They talked about and dissected the game over another slice of Sarah’s chocolate tart before Quinn asked, “how was dinner?” 

“Good,” Ellen said, “though I wish she would have let us pay. She just kind of swooped in and took the bill.” 

“She does that sometimes,” Quinn said.

Truthfully, he always hated when she did. He knew she didn’t have a ton of money, and he had more than he knew what to do with.

When he brought it up, she’d shushed him with a comment about being able to pull her own weight. 

“She does it with you too?” 

“Yeah, she talks about wanting to balance out.” 

It was refreshing to find Sarah so independent. Jim didn’t worry about how she would fill her time when Quinn was on the road, or that she was only interested in him because of deep pockets or a ticket to fame.

“I don’t really know how you got her,” Jim said, “but I’m glad you did. She’s a really great girl.” 

Quinn beamed, knowing it was the truth. 

“I do think your mom’s right, though. You two need to have some conversations about the future. Set some expectations.” 

“Yeah, I’ll talk with her about it.”

"You should invite her to the Reunion," his mom said, almost off handedly.

If they wanted her at the family reunion that summer, they saw the same potential he did.

"Okay, I will."

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[costelloschoice]

Mizu x Cowgirl! reader headcanons -Mizu x fem!reader -hi so I totally don't have a self insert that is a cowgirl and want to share my ideas about this LMAO -but seriously, I love this idea and idc if a cowboy wouldn't be here during this time period. We're here to have fun -comments and reblogs are appreciated :](pls I love readin comments and interacting with yall)

Sfw:

Okay so....wow

You are a completely different life form to Mizu

Your clothes? Crazy.

Your cowgirl hat will be the first thing she would notice, cause what type of that???

Leather pants with chaps on top

damn bro? who dressed you?

Your accent is also strange, why do you talk like that?

Ofc she will see you as a threat at first cause who are you and where did you even come from...plus that revolver in your side holster ain't helping

But once you proved yourself to her you don't mean harm, you're allowed to hang- you would score more brownie points with her

Mizu would def be intrigued by your backstory and why you're here in Japan

Late night talks by the fire

Even sneaking off to show her star gazing and small stories to share about the stars

Play guitar? Show off to her

Sing her songs and little bops you've learned or made on your own

Would die if you wrote one about her

You tame horses like it's nothing and its impressive to her

impressed more in you can ride without a saddle

Your lasso?

See wants to see you use it

has some thoughts of you tying up your enemies while fighting...

Once you guys develop a romantic relationship, she'll be excited but nervous

Excited cause you're great and accept her, but you guys are from two different cultures and lives

Will it work out?

Ofc it will...cause I say so

Will try on your cowgirl hat and do finger guns, even do impressions on you

Hasn't smiled this much in so long, it's like you casted a spell of some sort

Let her ride your horse with her

You have a fun side but also your serious side

Impressed when she sees you FINALLY use a sword like she taught your

speaking of that

she will force you to let her train you to sword fight instead of always relying on that damn revolver

She is impressed you can fight, but just not sword fight

Will hug and praise you in private about it later

"You should've seen yourself...You did so well, so beautiful wielding the sword,"

Will be willing to try your culture's food, even if she doesn't like it, she will appreciate it

When you get mad, and your accent gets thicker...sorry she can't keep up with what you're saying

But!!!

She loves to see you defend her, even if you're really outspoken

Specially with Taigen? Yeah, even though she can fight her own battles

Her favorite line? When you yelled at Akemi for crying too loud during the tea house situation

"Stop cryin' before I give you somethin' to cry about, girl.."

idk she loved see a spoiled girl being put in her place

but she knows you mean well

You were different but a good difference in her life <3

Nsfw:

going back to that damn lasso

wants you to tie her up, she's seen you do it and trusts you fully

would want to learn from you, for sexual and non-sexual reasons

LOVES to ride your strap

and yes

you make her follow the "hat rule"

hates it

but in the moment, she doesn't care too much, and will wear it

when you ride her? You wearin' it

now she sees why you love it

Your accent with dirty talk? Makes her weak in the knees

especially when your whisper in her ear

Your soft yet rough nature makes the sex life 10x better to her

You tell her something one night as a joke

"Save a horse, ride a cowgirl"

and she did

and loved it cause you made sure the ride was rough and wild

making love after star gazing? Yes pls

By the fire? Mhmm

Your soft voice with after care as well? Makes her so giddy and helps put her to sleep fast <3

[vinestaffery]

HAIIII Since ur request is open, i wanna ask for subspace x gn human reader!! I want it to be scenario please🙏 The plot is uhmm the reader just wandering aimlessly in Phighting wondering where the hell they are and they met subspace and then its up to you, thank youu..

HIHI!! OFC!!! I might actually change the 3 request thing because now it just overall motivates me. I will also be using my fan-faction, specifically since I have major lore for it. Anyways, enjoy!! Thank you for requesting <3

SUBSPACE X READER

Your lost from your faction, but what happens when you see a certain pink scientist not too far away?

When you first escaped your faction, it was entirely out of pure fear. You had no real exposure to the actual world from the outside.

So, aimlessly, you walked. You walked every street, checked every corner that you could reside in, and continued on. 

That was until you caught the light of a certain demon from afar. 

Subspace!!!!

You had no clue who he was, but he seemed to have caught your attention, especially with your unique sense of clothing. 

“Oh my!!” and he rushed up to you. You had no clue what was going to happen, but you prepared yourself for any collision of harm.

Seeing his strange sense of fashion choices, he stopped when he saw you were armed. 

But who is that to stop the Great and Powerful Subspace?

“Who are you?”

“I would be asking the same thing!”

You didn’t take kindly to his games, but you knew very well that he would be a great person for guidance. Especially with the fact that he seemed to know the area.

“I asked first!” 

“And I asked second... Now, who are you?” 

You couldn’t help but question yourself about whether you trusted them, but you were all for it.

“I am... but I am not from this place. Where am I?”

He couldn’t help but be confused. How could you not know where you were from?

“Well then…!!! Interesting, I am Subspace T. Mine, the prime head scientist of the greatest faction, Blackrock's robotics division!” 

You couldn’t help but be somewhat fascinated. You were meeting someone as great as your gods from your faction?

“Really?”

“Mhm!” 

Seeing him rather than a stranger, you grew closer to him each time you spoke.

He was a bit sketchy, but he didn’t seem to care as you grew more interested and kept questioning him and his responsibilities!

The pink-horned demon stared into your eyes, staring at you with fascination and pure joy. You were asking him things others would refuse! Delving deeper into the conversation with him, you couldn't shake off the feeling of excitement and caution.

His position held a certain allure, but his sketch demanor raised some red flags, especially his giant scar. Despite the uncertainty, you found yourself drawn to him, eager to learn more about his work and the faction he represented. He stared down; his gaze remained fixed on the interaction, torn between trust and suspicion.

"Well, of course! Blackrock only represents it's finest and strongest soldiers, like me!" "Wow! Mine does the exact same; we represent them with pride, and they defend us from dangers in the oceans!" That caught his attention. The oceans? It was such a curious wonder, and it made him even more intrigued by who you were and where you came from. He couldn't wait to hear more about our shared connection between you and the sea and what part these soldiers had.

"Maybe you could explain further more about these... soldiers?" You looked up at him with curiosity and wonder. "Sure! I mean, you aren't a threat; we could be friends! My first ever friend to meet in the outside world!"

That surely made him happier, as a smirk rose on his face. "Rightfully so."

[srim01997]

Second Change| Aemond T. X OFC

Paring:  Aemond “One-Eye” Targaryen x Viseara Targaryen (OC), Aemond Targaryen x Viseara Targaryen (OC), Implied Aegon II Targaryen x Celtigar! OFC

Fandom: House of The Dragon (HBO)

Warning: Slight NSFW, Impregnant mentioned, Crispin being Crispin

Writer’s note: I tried to find that aemond gif lololo

Please ilke, comment and reblog!!

Previous Chapter | Second Chance masterlist | Next Chapter

Chapter 10 The wh*re of Red Keep

Viseara arrived on the battlefield, her figure barely visible from Aemond’s vantage point atop his dragon. Even from the distance, he could tell she was gravely injured from defending House Celtigar’s castle. The two dragons, one massive and one smaller but fierce, circled in preparation to clash, their riders issuing commands.

“Angōs, Nyx! (Attack, Nyx!) / Drakarys!”

The grayish-blue dragon roared defiantly, launching itself at the larger Vhagar with fearless determination. The sky lit up with fire so intense that soldiers below were forced to shield their eyes or scatter to avoid the inferno. Flames erupted from the mouths of both beasts, consuming everything in their path. Despite her experience as a dragonrider, Viseara’s disadvantage became evident. Vhagar’s sheer size and cunning overshadowed the smaller, valiant Nyx.

Nyx faltered, its neck caught in Vhagar’s jaws. Black blood sprayed like rain, scalding soldiers on the ground who screamed in agony. Viseara gripped her reins tightly as her dragon began to plummet. Her mismatched eyes caught sight of Vhagar diving after her, and she could barely make out Aemond shouting something over the roaring wind. Tears streamed down her pale cheeks as her ears rang, rendering his words unintelligible.

She saw his gloved hand reaching for her, desperate and unyielding, before darkness engulfed her. Somewhere in the void, she thought she heard someone crying and felt the warmth of tears falling onto her face.

Viseara jolted awake just before dawn, her body aching from the aftermath of their passionate night. She shifted carefully, her limbs still tingling. The evidence of their union remained: the sticky warmth on her thighs and the soreness deep in her core. Grabbing a cloth, she dipped it into water and cleaned herself thoroughly, ensuring no trace remained.

Slipping back into the nightgown Aemond had stripped off her the night before, she walked to the balcony. The first rays of sunlight painted the horizon as she gazed out, lost in thought. A pair of strong arms wrapped around her from behind, startling her. Aemond was awake.

“Good morning, Viseara,” he murmured, no longer addressing her with the formal Aunt. The young prince, clad only in loose trousers, stood bare-chested behind her, his eyepatch absent in their privacy. “You left me alone in bed.”

“I didn’t leave you,” she teased, a smirk tugging at her lips. “I just didn’t want to disturb you.”

“When will you call me by my name? No—last night you screamed it until your voice gave out when I—”

“If you say one more word, I’ll kick you out of this room,” she snapped, her cheeks flushing at his audacity. She couldn’t deny the volume of their cries last night likely alerted everyone in the castle. Glancing at the bed, the soiled sheets bore testimony to their deeds. She pitied the maid who would have to clean the mess. “Are you feeling better now?”

She almost forgot he had been drugged the night before. But by whom?

“Aemond… Who drugged you?”

The one-eyed prince collapsed onto the bed, massaging his temples as if piecing together the events of the previous evening. After a moment, he spoke. “I drank tea given to me by Cassandra Baratheon. Not long after, I felt strange—almost lost control and pounced on her, but I managed to stop myself and came to you—”

“So you decided to unleash it on me instead?!” Viseara groaned, throwing his shirt at him. “Get dressed and go back to your room before your mother realizes you’ve been here—”

Before she could finish, Aemond sprang to his feet and captured her lips in a fervent kiss. She didn’t resist as his tongue sought hers, his hands pulling her closer. In moments, she found herself perched on the desk, his tall frame slotting between her legs.

Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against hers, smirking. “If I hadn’t been under the influence last night, I’d have taken you somewhere other than the bed.”

Her palm smacked against his chest, the hard muscle beneath her hand reminding her of how much he’d grown. Meeting his gaze, she tilted her head up to kiss him again, guiding his hand beneath her nightgown. “See how much of a mess you made?”

“It’s still warm enough for me to enter again…”

“I’m sore.”

“I know…” Aemond murmured, nuzzling her neck as his hands began to unlace his trousers—

The sound of the door creaking open froze them both. Viseara’s children stood in the doorway, their expressions a mixture of shock and disbelief as they took in the compromising scene: their cousin and their mother, both partially undressed.

Scrambling to fix her clothing, Viseara turned to face them, cheeks aflame. “I can explain.”

Now, Viseara and Aemond sat side by side at the edge of the bed while Aenys, Maeria, and Elia stood before them with scrutinizing gazes. Aenys, the eldest son of the Rogue Princess, directed his sharp words at his cousin, who wore an annoyingly innocent expression.

"You slept with my mother, Aemond?" Aenys demanded, his tone icy. "You lay with her knowing she's my mother!"

"I know," Aemond admitted calmly, meeting the older cousin's piercing stare. "And I love her."

"How many times?" Aenys pressed, his voice rising. "How many times have you done this with my mother?"

"Quite a few," Aemond replied nonchalantly. "Sometimes she comes to me, but mostly, I come to her room."

Maeria and Elia exchanged wide-eyed looks, utterly speechless at their cousin's candid confession. Maeria, the eldest daughter, raised a hand to her mouth, stunned. She couldn't believe that this particular cousin, who had always shown disdain for marriage alliances, had been so consumed by their mother. It was not uncommon for Targaryens to marry within the family—siblings, cousins, or relatives of similar age—but an aunt-nephew relationship was far less frequent.

If this cousin became their stepfather, it would be utterly unsettling.

"Does anyone else know about this?" Maeria asked cautiously.

"Larys knew," Aemond replied flatly, "but he's dead now, so his loose tongue is no longer a concern. Don't worry; I plan to marry your mother."

"That’s not the point!" Aenys shot back. "You’re betrothed to Lord Baratheon’s daughter, yet you’ve been sneaking into my mother’s bed—"

"I am not betrothed," Aemond interrupted, his voice hardening. "I will not marry anyone except Viseara."

At that moment, Aenys wished his uncle Daemon could hear how desperately the one-eyed prince wanted to wed his mother. Aenys's mind raced with questions—had his mother become pregnant? Aemond showed no remorse for his actions, sitting there as though everything was perfectly acceptable. The Celtigar heir spoke in a measured tone.

"At least the Baratheon girl is closer to your age," Aenys said, glaring. "Your grandfather and mother will never—"

"Then I’ll take her to Dragonstone or one of the Free Cities and have a priest marry us," Aemond declared with a smirk. "In nine months, you might even have a new sibling."

"You!" Aenys lunged at Aemond, but the three women quickly intervened, pulling the two apart. Viseara’s voice cut through the tension.

"Aemond, how could you say such things?" she chided. "I’m too old to bear children."

"I know," Aemond replied, placing a firm hand on her lower stomach. "But what if you already are, and you don’t realize it yet?"

"I drank moon tea after you left my bed, Aemond."

"Seven hells, if I get a new sibling now, I’ll throw myself off the battlements," Aenys groaned dramatically.

Elia cleared her throat. "Let’s focus on the real issue. Lady Baratheon is furious because Aemond disappeared. She claims—or rather, insists—that he abandoned her after taking her maidenhood—"

"I did no such thing!" Aemond’s voice thundered, then steadied as he explained. "I was drugged and came straight to your mother—"

"Drugged?" Maeria interjected. "Cassandra Baratheon, of all people, drugged you? That woman is too dimwitted to pull something like that off unless someone gave her the means."

"There aren’t many who could make such a potion," Aemond said, rubbing his temples.

"And you were foolish enough to accept a drink from someone you barely know," Maeria said, narrowing her eyes. "It’s a miracle it wasn’t poison, or you’d be feasting with the Stranger instead of sitting here with my mother."

"Maeria," Aenys cut in, confused. "How do you know it was Cassandra?"

"Do I have to deal with both a dense brother and a clueless cousin?" Maeria sighed.

"Maeria!"

"Apologies, Mother," she said, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Here’s what I know: I overheard Maris complaining about how she didn’t want to marry Aemond because of his missing eye. As for Ellyn, she’s been flirting with Aenys—"

"Hey!" Aenys protested. "I was merely being polite to her."

"Think carefully," Elia chimed in. "Which is worse: Aemond being accused of abandoning Lady Baratheon, or the entire Red Keep finding out that Aemond and Mother have been sharing a bed?"

"Considering how loud it was last night, I’d say everyone already knows," Aenys muttered, shooting a glare at Aemond. "And you’re not even sorry!"

"I am sorry, cousin," Aemond said, his smirk returning. "Sorry that I’ll be doing it again."

He was pulled from his reverie of last night’s escapades by a knock at the door and a servant’s voice.

"Prince Aemond, Princess Viseara—Queen Alicent requests your presence."

“Seven hells”

Alicent tried to comfort Cassandra, who continued her theatrical sobbing beside her. The queen’s dark eyes scanned the people entering the hall. She strode forward and slapped her son hard enough to make his face turn. Viseara quickly interjected.

"You should hear him out first, Your Grace—"

"He violated her and then disappeared to be with you. He must take responsibility for this," Alicent said, her voice heavy with disappointment as she looked at her son. "I never raised you to behave this way."

Viseara noticed the defiant glint in Aemond’s single eye and quickly spoke up.

"Your son was drugged, Your Grace. It was an aphrodisiac, the kind used in brothels. How Lady Baratheon came into possession of such a substance, I do not know. Perhaps from one of the Maesters?"

"Or perhaps someone gave it to her," the rogue princess suggested, tilting her head. "Don’t you think that if it had been poisoned instead, you and your family might now face charges of attempting to assassinate the royal family?"

"I... I can’t say," Cassandra stammered, avoiding the rogue princess’s piercing gaze. "But the person who gave it to me said it would help me win the prince’s favor. I didn’t mean to drug him, and… he got up and left. He didn’t… violate me."

At that moment, the queen felt as if the world was crumbling around her. Her second son didn’t want to marry, the issue with Lady Baratheon was unresolved, and now Viseara was involved in this scandal. The rogue princess continued.

"That night, he was with me, and I—"

"I lay with her," Aemond declared unapologetically. "I didn’t violate Lady Baratheon that night because I went to my aunt’s chambers, as you all heard."

The rogue princess wanted to scream. That wasn’t part of her plan! She had been trying to help cover up Aemond’s indiscretion, not throw gasoline onto an already blazing fire.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed Ser Criston murmuring something, and she caught the words "Red Keep harlot." Her hand twitched toward her sword, but Aemond’s deep voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Ser Criston, what did you just call Princess Viseara?" Aemond’s sharp gaze locked onto the Kingsguard knight, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger. "Say it again."

"I said nothing, Your Grace," Criston replied flatly.

"Such a liar. Not that I’m accusing you, Ser Criston," Viseara quipped with a smirk before turning to Alicent. "So, Your Grace, what will you do about this?"

The queen inhaled deeply, then spoke. "Princess Viseara, I must admit this is a difficult decision. But I beg to discuss this matter with you privately after this issue is resolved."

Viseara spent several hours in her chambers after the heated discussion between Lord Baratheon, Otto, and Alicent about how to handle the scandal. The best solution to quell the rumors surrounding Aemond and the rogue princess seemed to be sending Viseara to Dragonstone or the Silent Sisters. But such a move might result in an outcome similar to Princess Saera’s, or worse, Daemon might burn King’s Landing to the ground. The Dragonstone option was deemed the lesser evil.

The rogue princess arrived at Dragonstone on the back of her dragon, greeted by none other than Daemon. The rogue prince frowned as he noticed servants unloading her luggage and belongings from the ship.

Before he could speak, she raised a finger. "Don’t ask."

"If you don’t want to explain, fine. Welcome to Dragonstone, dear sister," he said, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "Don’t worry, you won’t starve. Just don’t touch my lady’s lemon cakes."

"Better guard your wine, or it’ll vanish bottle by bottle," she retorted.

For months, she settled into Dragonstone, finding solace in her twin brother’s mischievous grin. But something still felt missing, though she chose not to dwell on it.

Aenys remained by his mother’s side, while Elia stayed with Aegon as his wife and Maeria, as Alicent’s handmaiden, could not follow Viseara.

Though banished to Dragonstone, Viseara had no intention of fading into obscurity. She predicted that in three or four months, Vaemond would seize the opportunity to challenge Lucerys’s claim to Driftmark while Corlys was still recovering. If successful, House Velaryon’s fleet would fall to the Greens, and Daemon would inevitably kill Vaemond in the throne room.

Her role now was to navigate the coming storm, knowing full well the stakes at play. If she wanted to ensure Rhaenyra’s ascension to the Iron Throne, she would have to be ready for the real battle ahead.

TBC.

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

Better Off - Bernard DeMarco x OFC - Chapter 2

Masterlist | Chapter 1 |-| Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13

AO3

Summary: During a party at the officers' club, DeMarco gets the chance to smooth things over with Susie, and she shows her true colours when defending one of her friends

Warnings: Language, smoking, harassment, misogyny, violence

Word Count: 3.6k

Tags: @xxluckystrike @latibvles @footprintsinthesxnd @mads-weasley @joyfulbookreviewmarvelspy

Susie jolted awake to the sudden bang of a door swinging shut, squinting in the unbearable brightness of the light which she assumed to be morning. "Susie!" Charlotte's voice hit her ears, and she folded her arms tightly over her head to block everything out, inhaling the smell of cigarette smoke. That was strange.

"What?" She groaned.

"You fell asleep in your uniform. Get up."

Blinking slowly, Susie looked down at herself, and sure enough, she was dressed head-to-toe in her dress greens, her shoes still on her feet, one leg dangling off the side of her mattress as she lay on top of the crumpled blankets. "...Oh shit. Is it morning?"

One of the other ATS girls let out a bark of laughter, and Charlotte shook her head, a smile curling her lip. "No. We just got in from the pub, it's been... what, three hours since you left?"

"God, no wonder I feel like shit."

"You look like it too. Are you sure you're alright? Not like you to call it a night after only one pint."

Susie's hand fell to her pocket, and she felt the cool metal of the money DeMarco had given her against her fingertips. She nodded weakly. "Yeah. No, I'm just tired."

Charlotte raised a brow discerningly, sitting down on the edge of Susie's bed. "Right. Get up, get out of that uniform, and tell me what's wrong. I'll iron your stuff tomorrow, I have to do mine anyway."

Her brow was furrowed in confusion but she obliged nonetheless, rising to her feet as she began to peel away her uniform, the inhabitants of their hut far too familiar with one another to be embarrassed about any state of undress. "What, you want to... listen to me talk about my feelings?"

"Yes, Susie. You know - like an actual human."

"Sounds terrible-"

"Susie!"

"Right, yeah, ok. Well... I think I'm frustrated."

Charlotte's mouth hung slightly agape, as if watching a baby giraffe learn to walk for the first time. "... you think?"

"No, no. I am," She nodded firmly. "... Yeah. There was a bloke I thought might've been my friend but it turned out he was pissin' me about."

"What a shit."

"...Yeah." Susie agreed, a distinct air of uncertainty lacing her voice. Charlotte stared at her like she was encountering alien life for the first time. The cold night air stung her bare skin as she hurried to pull on some pyjamas, uniform laid out as neatly as she could upon the bed. Even inside the Nissen huts, it was never fully warm - on particularly nasty nights, the women would pass around thick, wool socks so that everyone could double up on layers, the thin army-issue blankets doing little to keep them insulated. "Can I go back to sleep now?"

"Y'know, I don't think you're mean, Suze," Charlotte pointed out as she gathered the crumpled clothes. "Just... socially incompetent."

"Noted," Susie nodded, collapsing face-first onto the bed, the spring mattress shrieking its objection as she bounced up and down a few times below slowly settling to a halt. In her mind, it didn't matter why people didn't like her - they just did, and she wasn't very interested in changing herself to avoid it. Everyone had always liked her sisters growing up, and it mostly seemed to mean that they never got left alone. But Susie liked being left alone.

Or at least, she managed to convince herself that she did.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The sun had long since set, a warm glow and the echo of brass music echoing from within the officers' club, a steady hum of conversation carrying on the breeze. Standing out in the darkness, back pressed against the wall, Susie pulled her cigarette away from her lips, a huge cloud of smoke erupting before her. She and Charlotte sported matching lights, the small, burning embers flickering orange as they puffed away in silence. Charlotte smoked about a dozen a day, but she refused to do it inside, repulsed by both the lingering smell of her own smoke and the thought of men watching her do it. It always seemed hypocritical to Susie, but nevertheless, she accompanied her, waiting patiently until they were both done.

"Freddy's back in town on Wednesday," Charlotte stated, breaking the silence that hung between them. She had been engaged to the RAF pilot for over a year, but there had never been time or money enough to arrange the lavish wedding they both so desperately wanted. Susie had only met the man once or twice, but he seemed a good bloke to her, albeit excessively chipper. She never quite trusted optimists.

"Oh, give him my best. I've got a pick-up run to fucking Peterborough on that day - apparently, they've got a shortage of vehicles, so I've gotta go all the way to them. Bloody waste of a day, really," She complained, lightly kicking one of the old empty beer bottles on the ground and sending it spinning across the tarmac.

"You should get the truck checked before you go - you'd hate to break down somewhere. I can call Bevan or something, she'll give it a look."

"Nah. I haven't been having any problems, I won't waste her time. She's got enough on her plate."

One of their bunkmates, a young woman named Maeve, tore open the door to the club, the music splitting the air. Her hat sat lop-sided on her head, cropped blonde hair erupting in frizz from the sweat that beaded on her forehead. "Are you gonna come in or what? I've already danced with three Yanks, how long does it take to smoke one fag?"

"Alright, Jesus," Susie rolled her eyes, twisting her heel as she stomped hers out. The sudden noise was jarring as they headed inside, and it took her eyes a moment to adjust to the light after spending so much time outside. She couldn't quite remember what the party was even for, but the Americans didn't strike her as a group in need of much of a reason for one.

The women from her hut were all either crowded at one end of the bar or dancing with some of the men that filled the room, and Susie immediately made a beeline for the former, utterly uninterested in a bit of dull conversation or awkward flirting with a man she'd undoubtedly never speak to again. Her sister Beatrice often complained she had an un-romantic view of the world - she preferred the term 'realist'.

She had barely had time to take a sip of her first drink before she felt a tug at her trouser leg. Peering down, she met a familiar pair of dark eyes, Meatball's tongue lolling out of his mouth as he stared up at her, tail thumping against Maeve's leg as it wagged incessantly. The women were delighted by his sudden appearance, crouching down to scratch beneath his chin and rub under his belly, the dog revelling in the attention. But Meatball's presence meant one thing.

"Susie?"

Susie stood up straight, wiping a line of beer foam away from her lip as she found herself face-to-face with DeMarco, a stern frown creasing her expression. She'd managed to successfully avoid him for nearly a week, but with her back pressed up against the bar there was no escape.

She never dressed like she was supposed to be where she was. It was something Benny liked about her. Her hair fell uncurled down her back, her tie hanging loose around her neck, the top button of her shirt undone. Hand planted firmly on her hip, she appeared even more irritated by his presence than she had the first time they'd met.

"Look, can we-" He paused, an idea slowly surfacing. "... Will you dance with me?"

Maeve and Charlotte were both staring, expressions prompting her forward. DeMarco's friends were huddled nearby, clearly watching the scene, close enough to hear every word.

He's backed you into a corner. He's forcing you to answer. If you say no, he's made sure you're the one who'll look like an asshole.

What a dick.

"Fine." Teeth clenched, a bitter sweetness lacing her voice, she seized his arm, marching him towards the dancefloor and leaving the other women to fawn and coo over Meatball.

He stared down at the hand she had on his sleeve, frowning at the stiffness of her grip. Her shoulders were visibly tense, and he could feel the reluctance in every step she took. "... You look nice," He pointed out, flashing a smile.

Susie paused in the centre of the floor, taking his hand with about as much enthusiasm as if she were at a funeral. "Right. Sure."

The music had picked up, more than a dozen couples filling the room, dancing merrily. DeMarco liked this song. He'd danced to it countless times, with far more cheerful, willing partners. He could feel the warmth of her skin as he put a hand on her waist, and with a start realised that she was actually rather good at this. Staring down at the smooth movement of her feet, he almost forgot what he had come to say.

Clearing his throat slightly, Benny met her eye. “Susie, look. I know I don’t know you very well-”

“That is correct," She nodded firmly, and he fought the urge to scoff.

“Can you let me finish?! Jesus. I know I don’t know you very well - but - I can tell you’re not going to admit you were wrong. So I’m gonna do it for you. Susie, you were wrong. I was not trying to use you to get close to your friends - one of Charlotte’s friends had a date with one of my guys tonight, and I was asked to pass on a message that he had to cancel. That's why I needed to talk to her, you were just so-...” His mouth opened and shut as he tried to find the word, hand releasing hers for a moment to flail wildly in the air. “-You!"

Her gaze had begun to soften, and for a moment he felt a pit of guilt burrow in his stomach. "…But I’m sorry that’s happened to you before. Some guys can be real jerks.”

“Oh, really, thank you for the warning,” Susie said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. DeMarco frowned flatly, and she cleared her throat. “Right. Yeah… Ok.” 

"It usually helps when you let people finish their sentences," He shrugged, and she tilted her head to the side, eyes narrowing. When he slipped his hand back into hers, she was noticeably less tense.

"Well, I didn't know what you were gonna say."

"Exactly, Suze. That's what the rest of the sentence was for," DeMarco pointed out, unable to restrain a chuckle, flashing a boyish, lopsided grin. She felt her cheeks heat up, and let out a snort of laughter herself, her stubbornness ridiculous in hindsight. After a moment, Susie couldn't help but laugh - a real, melodious laugh, erupting from deep within her throat, eyes squeezed shut as her head tilted forward, a single auburn curl slipping over her shoulder to hang in her face.

He paused, the shuffling of his feet slowing, falling out of time with the music. She seemed all hard lines and rough edges, far too much so to ever produce such a wonderful sound. It was the kind of laugh that made a person feel lighter just for hearing it, and DeMarco hadn't realised quite how much he'd been staring until Bucky's teasing grin caught his eye from across the room, and he snapped out of it before Susie could notice.

The song reached its end, and her steps slowed to a halt, prying her hands away from his. "Right, you interrupted me before I could finish my drink, so I'm gonna go find it," She nodded determinedly, Meatball wiggling his way through the crowd to nip at her heels as she walked, his tail wagging back and forth wildly. Accepting her departure, Benny drifted back over to his friends, accepting a drink as it was passed to him.

"Breaking that shell, huh?" Bucky asked, that same pleased smirk creasing his cheeks.

His eyes narrowed slightly, shaking his head as he took a sip of his drink. "Don't believe everything ya hear, John."

Susie pried her shoulders through the press of bodies that had gathered around the bar, hands raised as she side-stepped between a few officers, watching keenly for her half-finished beer. She spotted Maeve, stood dutifully with a glass in each hand, and realised with a smile that she'd been keeping an eye on it for her. A pilot she didn't recognise was stood beside Maeve at the bar, talking her ear off, and by the uneasy expression on her face, she wasn't exactly enjoying it.

"Thanks, love," Forcing a smile, she took her drink back, purposely shouldering in between the pair, cutting off the pilot mid-sentence. He let out a frustrated grunt, but Susie didn't offer him a second glance, placing a gentle, reassuring hand on Maeve's arm. The newest member of her crew, the girl had been freshly nineteen when she arrived at Thorpe Abbotts only a few months ago. She was bubbly, blunt, energetic, and something about her seemed familiar to Susie, something that kept her tethered at her side. "I was just talking to Charlotte-" She lied, deliberately refusing to address the third member of their party. "-and we were talking about going down to the pub instead, find some better beer."

The pilot cleared his throat, speaking up. Something about his smooth accent rubbed Susie the wrong way. "Excuse me? Maeve, we should get on the dancefloor before the next song starts."

Shaking her head, Susie wedged herself even more firmly between the two, shouldering Maeve behind her. "No, she's not gonna be doing that."

"I wasn't talking to you."

"Well, now you are."

The air itself had grown tense around them, drawing the stares of others just trying to enjoy their evening. Further down the bar, she noticed DeMarco and his friends watching with furrowed brows, sporting identical frowns as they slowly put down their beers in anticipation. She felt Maeve's fingers brush against her own behind her back, searching for her hand.

The pilot was growing more and more irritated by the second. "Listen, we're all just here to have a good time," He said tensely. "It's one dance, it's not gonna hurt anyone."

Maeve's hand squeezed hers, a wordless way of saying 'Yes it will'.

"I think we've established that's not happening, Yank. Now why don't you fuck off and bother someone else, before this becomes a problem."

He scoffed, clearly doubting Susie's ability to make this altercation any sort of problem for him. Over his shoulder, she noticed DeMarco making his way through the crowd towards them, frown darkening his entire face. "There an issue here?" He asked, voice sterner than she'd ever heard it.

"Yeah, DeMarco - why don't you come over here and put a muzzle on your bitch, huh?"

The moment the words left the man's mouth, DeMarco was lunging forward, Blakeley's hands seizing his shoulders before he could cause any real damage. A self-satisfied smirk curled the pilot's lips, but in the moment DeMarco had dove at him, he had failed to notice Susie, upturning her beer and pouring every last drop down her throat in a single gulp. By the time his head turned back towards the two women, her fist was already clenched and pulled back, and an almighty crack echoed through the officers' club as her knuckles collided with his jaw. Staggering backwards, his side slammed into the bar, undoubtedly leaving some nasty bruises as he tumbled backwards, landing flat on his ass on the polished wood floor.

A stunned silence had descended upon the room, every eye locked onto the scene, a few snickers rising from the crowd as the pilot gawped up at her, eyes wide and gormless. "C'mon," Susie uttered, taking advantage of the sudden stillness to worm her way through the crowd, tugging Maeve along by the hand, the girl staring slack-jawed at the scene as they passed.

Susie hadn't realised how stifling the officers' club was until they breached the doorway, stepping out into the cold night air, no light except for a single streetlamp, which flickered and buzzed intermittently. Her knuckles throbbed painfully, shoulder reeling from the sudden swing, but the pain seemed washed away the moment Maeve let out a laugh - a shrill, hysteric giggle, hands clamped tightly over her mouth to muffle the sound, eyes wide in shock.

"Holy shit, Susie!" She cackled, and soon Susie had begun to grin too, their expressions painted in sheer disbelief at the scene that had just occurred. "That was fucking cool! Quick - let's go back in there and kick 'im before he can get up."

"No, no!" Susie chuckled, grabbing Maeve's wrist to stop her from marching straight back inside again. "We're in enough trouble as it is, let's not, eh? Save it for next time we see him," She winked, making the younger girl giggle.

Suddenly Maeve gasped, a hand raised to her scalp. "Oh shit, I left my hat inside."

The sound of footsteps just inside the doorway caught their attention, and out hurried DeMarco, Major Egan tailing close behind, Maeve's ATS cap in hand. "You guys ok? You hurt?" Benny called, brow creased in concern.

"Oh, we are so great," Maeve laughed, accepting her hat with many grateful thanks. "I mean did you see that? One hit - bam! - down!" Susie nodded along, beginning to chuckle, her cheeks burning a bright red.

"Yeah, it'll be even more impressive if I manage to keep my job," She huffed, shoving her hands in her pockets.

"Well, I dunno about you, Benny, but I sure didn't see anything," Egan shrugged.

"Not a thing," DeMarco concurred, grinning. She met his gaze, and for a moment they both struggled not to burst into laughter.

"Right, well I'm not nearly drunk enough to go home yet," Maeve declared, glancing around at the group to gauge their reactions. "Pub? Pub anyone?"

"Not for me," Susie shook her head. "Even if everyone denies what just happened, I'm already on second chances. I'm gonna get some sleep before I have to deal with it tomorrow."

"I'll go," Egan nodded. "Keep an eye on the kid."

"Thank you," She smiled earnestly, taking Maeve's cap and tucking it beneath her arm. They'd all told the girl not to wear it out, but she'd insisted, and it was becoming burdensome. John and Maeve began making their way towards the village, their chatter muffled the further away they got. Turning on her heel, Susie began to return to her hut, before the sudden sound of approaching footsteps caught her attention.

DeMarco was walking beside her, hands in his pockets. "Walk you back?"

"And abandon your dog? Shame on you."

He shrugged. "Meatball's been all over Buck, he'll be fine. That dog's a goddamn traitor."

She chuckled. "He's going through the rebellious teenager phase - wants anyone except his dad."

"No one told me parenthood would be this hard, y'know," Benny joked, a flash of teeth peeking through his lopsided smile. "Your hand feelin' ok?"

Susie lifted the hand she'd used to punch the pilot, a twinge of pain making her wince slightly as she flexed her knuckles. DeMarco reached out to gently hold it, peering down at the bruising already blooming across the back of her palm. "It was a damn good swing, I'll give you that," He admitted, and she let out a chuckle.

Neither spoke for a moment, until he broke the silence once more. "Hey, what'd you mean when you said you're 'already on second chances'?"

"Ah," Susie nodded. "Well, that's where the reputation comes from. A while ago, before you Yanks got here, I got in an argument with an RAF officer - headbutted him so hard I broke his nose. I nearly got fired, but now everyone who's been around long enough knows about it, they think I've got a screw loose or summat."

"No shit - are you serious?"

"As the plague."

DeMarco let out a long, low whistle. "Y'know, I just assumed it was 'cause you're..."

"A grumpy old bitch?"

"Yeah, that," He agreed, letting out a guffaw as she punched him in the shoulder. "Hey! You said it, not me!"

"Prick," Susie smirked, shaking her head. The officers' club wasn't far from the ATS huts, and it wasn't long before they reached her door. Pulling Maeve's hat out from under her arm, she placed it atop her head, jokingly tipping it to him in goodbye as she fumbled for her keys. "Well, if I still have a job tomorrow I'll see you around."

"You will," DeMarco nodded. "And hey, if they try to fire you, I'll tell 'em you're essential for dog-sitting purposes."

"Oh yeah, my main calling in life," She shook her head, smiling as the lock clicked and she swung the door open. "G'night DeMarco."

"Y'know, you're allowed to call me Benny."

Her expression contorted in a grimace, clearly not a fan of the nickname. "I think I'm good."

"Jesus Christ," He muttered. "Go to bed, Susie, just get outta my sight."

With one last laugh, she slipped inside, vanishing as the door swung shut behind her, leaving him alone in the darkness. Smirking to himself, he shoved his hands into his pockets, beginning the long walk back to his bunk.

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

As well you should be 💖❤️😊

If you haven't checked out the series, do yourself a favor and click the link above!

First scene that comes to mind?

From 'You Can Count on Me' - Defender Stephen finally melting and kissing Emilia and having them both reveal their true feelings for one another. OH.MY.HEART.❣️💖😍

The Countess and her Defender series

Aww, thank you! I'm particularly proud of that scene.

[moonswolfie]

Could we get Bokuto and 19? 🥺🥺🥺

Bokuto x gn!reader

But ofc!! Idk if u knew this nonnie but bokuto is my favourite boyo💕💕 i'm always happy to write about him🥰🥰

Time to prove to him that even his faults can be loved😤

His teammates often tell him that he's too loud, childish and irresponsible. He always feels compelled to deny it, but his teachers say the same thing. Even his parents scold him for that sometimes.

So then it must be true, no matter how much he defends himself.

In volleyball, being too loud isn't much of a problem and even excites the crowd a lot, but something like math class is a different story.

"Honey, you're too childish and irresponsible for a relationship." His mom hummed from behind the kitchen counter when hearing Bokuto whine to himself about still being single. All she got in reply was a sad groan.

Do these parts of him make him that horrible? He already had a bad day at practice today and then the boys basketball club leader decided to taunt him about still being single. Being reminded of his "bad traits" wasn't helping in the slightest.

He slowly got up, going into his room to sulk.

"I think that was too harsh, darling. You know how he is, he'll take your words to heart." His dad worriedly glanced at his mom while chopping the vegetables.

"You're right, I should have phrased that better..."

.

So he found it quite surprising when one day you, one of his classmates, approached him out of nowhere during a break.

"Hey, ummm, I'm in your class, but we don't know eachother very well." You started, fiddling with your fingers. It took a lot of convincing from your friends to even get you here, but there's no way back now.

"OOOH! I remember you!! You sit in the second row!!" He had no idea what you wanted, but it was always nice to talk to someone new.

"So, I'd like to get to know you better..." you looked into his eyes with hope. From what little you did know about Bokuto, he was very outgoing and excitable. So hopefully this goes well.

His eyes widened. "Eh? I mean, yeah, sure!! Of course!!" His face quickly returned to his usual excited expression.

"So!! I'm the coolest ace of the coolest volleyball club in Japan!! But you probably already knew that..." he started. What a cute self-introduction.

"Yeah, I went to your matches before..." you really hoped that your blush wasn't showing too much at that moment.

"REALLY?!"

.

After that day, you made it a habit to talk to him. He got to know many things he would have never guessed about you and his smile grew every day as your initial shyness dissapeared.

He grew increasingly close to you, to the point even his teammates pointed it out. He never noticed how he acts "different" around you.

But now that he thinks about it, he keeps reminding himself to speak more quietly and watch his mouth around you. That's quite strange, since he prefers to be his unfiltered self and tries not to be bothered by what others say.

Then why is he being subconsciously careful only around you, a person who never voiced their discomfort for his loudness or irresponsibility?

"Honey, you're too childish and irresponsible for a relationship."

No way.

Those words replayed in his head over and over. There's no way he's actually in love with you, right? You're just so amazing and beautiful and- UGH!

But if what everyone around him says is right, then that means he has zero chances with you, right? Ohhh, this is making him feel all sorts of sick...

Maybe google can fix this.

"Hey, bro. Come to dinne- What are you doing?" his sister's reaction shifted to one of worry when she found him laying on the bed, staring at the volleyball in his hands with a strangely solemn expression. Googling "how to get rid of your crush" did nothing for him since he doesn't want to distance himself from you.

"...Nothing."

"Are you having one of those mood swings again?" his sister sighed. "Come on, just come eat." she pulled him off the bed and he silently joined her for dinner. His family didn't question him all that much, already being used to his often times unstable mood.

Besides, they figured he needed space. Usually, a little "you're awesome" would work well in brightening his mood but instead of cheering up as he usually does he just hummed sadly, contuinuing to shovel at his food.

He himself hadn't expected those feelings to hit him like a truck. First love was supposed to be a cute, sweet, uplifting feeling...

.

"Hey, umm, Koutaro, I have to tell you something... Can you come with?" you asked one day out of the blue. The two of you were already on a first name basis, surprisingly you really clicked with him. Which made his little crush all the more bothersome.

He kept stuttering over his sentences when you smiled at him so sweetly, his heart swelling at the little things you remembered about him.

If only he wasn't so annoying and childish...

"I- Uh, sure!" he let you lead him off to a more private area, wondering what awaits him. You sounded nervous, like back when you first asked to get to know him. This could only mean something bad, right?! Or is he just overthinking it?

Since when does he do that, anyways?

"So... I kind of have a crush on you..." you looked down, too afraid to meet his eyes, missing the way his eyebrows raised and eyes blew wide.

"YOU LIKE ME?! You really like... me?" he almost couldn't believe his ears.

"Uhh, yeah.. I do." you yourself were a little surprised at his response. You thought for sure that Bokuto would just get really hyped and accept. Well, if he liked you too in the first place.

"Even though I'm loud? And childish? And irresponsible?" he asked in quick succession. What? How would those characteristics of his affect your feelings for him?

"Of course? I like you, even the less favourable parts." you smile at him happily. You think you know why he brought that up now. Judging by the amount of times the teachers scold him for those very things, he must think they're an annoyance and a hinderance to you.

You misjudged him, it seems. He lets things get to him more than you thought. Not that that's an issue at all.

"Ohhh, this might be my second favourite feeling in the world..." he said, relief evident in his tone as he hugged you tightly.

"Only second favourite?" you questioned, hugging him back.

"The first one will always belong to the feeling of a successful spike, of course!!" he squeezed you so hard you thought your bones might break.

"S-So, is that a-"

"Yes, yes!! A million times yes!! I'll be your boyfriend, your husband, your f- ANYTHING!"

oops i accidentally made it mutual pining and WAY too long bo bo tends to have that effect on me🌚

[pedrito-friskito]

strawberry wine - joel miller x ofc!liv stone/fem!reader

during - part eighteen

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

joel does his best to distract himself, and you, and time just keeps on going.

a/n: SURPRISE. did I think this was gonna be done today? nope. did I anticipate the things happening in part 18 and 19 to be one big part? YEP. is there gonna be another part probably on thursday or friday? ALSO YEP. (also I’ll be replying to comments on part 18 soon I swear!)

word count: 5.7k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, some intense sex, joel is trying to fix his problems the wrong way, mentions/depictions of ptsd, canon-typical violence, we love tess servopolous in this house 🤍

✨y’all should know the drill by now - @friskito-library for updates on new chapters and new works!✨

Tess stays long enough for you to scrounge up something faintly resembling dinner. Between the two of you, you put a decent dent in the whiskey bottle. She doesn’t really pry, doesn’t ask anything beyond if Joel is okay, if you are. You open your mouth to answer, and the bathroom door opens. He doesn’t so much as glance at the two of you before he heads towards the bed, falling sideways onto it and rolling onto his side, facing the window, away from you both.

“I don’t know,” you breathe out, reaching for the bottle. You can feel Tess watching you, that intense gaze of hers making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. “Joel caught him outside one of the Firefly buildings the other day. Split his knuckles on Tommy’s nose.”

“That explains it,” Tess sighs, leaning back in her chair. You slide the bottle across the table to her. “He was pissed as hell when he got home, all bloody and shit, wouldn’t tell me why.”

“It was like pulling teeth, getting him to tell me,” you say, glancing over at Joel’s prone form on the bed. You let your voice drop lower, just above a whisper. “My sister and I used to fight, but we never…” You shake your head, let your voice trail off. “It’s not the same, I know, but still. Did you have siblings? I don’t think I’ve ever asked.”

Tess shakes her head, swigs from the bottle with a wince. “Nope, only child. Thankful for it now, but it was lonely, growing up.”

You push your hands through your hair, sighing. “I can only imagine.”

A strange silence settles over you, and your gut twists. Tess is the closest friend you have, you hate lying to her, and that’s all you’ve been doing since Nick left. It’s for her own good, you reason, but it does little to ease the guilt.

“One of us should try and talk to Tommy,” she says after a moment, and you lift a brow. “Try and talk some fucking sense into him.”

You chew your lip, nodding. “I mean, you’re the logical first choice, I would think. Tonight was supposed to smooth shit over between him and Joel to start, not make it worse. If I go now, he’ll just think I’m defending Joel. And if Joel even agreed to go, they’d both end up beat to shit, I think.”

“This could get him killed, Liv,” Tess says, and your stomach fills with dread. “These fucking Fireflies, they have no idea what they’re doing. I saw the beginnings of shit like this in Baltimore, and that was before it even got to the point of bombings and shootings. They don’t know what they’re doing, what FEDRA will do to them if they get caught. We can’t lose Tommy. We can’t.”

“I know.” You reach out, cover her hand on the table with your own. Her knuckles twitch beneath your palm, and you curl your fingers around hers, squeezing. “Try and talk to him when you go home,” you say, your voice low, still just above a whisper. “See if you can get through that thick Miller skull. I’ll meet you in the afternoon tomorrow, and we’ll go from there.”

She just nods. “You got a job tomorrow?”

“Radio,” you tell her, rubbing your fingers across your brow. “Now that Hartford’s bust, gotta start making some new connections, see what’s out there.”

Another nod. “Smart.” But you can see the concern on her face.

“It’ll be okay, Tess,” you murmur, squeezing her hand again. “Promise.”

She leaves shortly after, taking the mostly empty whiskey with her. A peace offering for Tommy, she claims, and you hug her tightly before closing the door behind her.

You turn the lights off, double check the stove is turned off, unplug the generator that runs it. Soft yellow light filters in from the street, the curtains you still haven’t replaced ruffling slightly as you shut the living room window, blocking out the noise of the street below. Soldiers on patrol, trucks rumbling past, ambiance that’s far too close to what you’d grown used to in Boston pre-outbreak.

Joel murmurs your name as you head towards the bed, shrugging off his flannel and tossing it onto the pile of clothes in the corner. You need to do laundry, you think faintly, sinking onto the edge of the bed. There are blood-covered clothes somewhere in that pile, things you should probably just burn instead of trying to scrub the stains out in the shitty QZ laundry.

As you lay back, Joel rolls towards you, slinging his arm around your waist, hand snaking right up your shirt and curling around your ribs. He presses a hot kiss to your collar as you let your fingers rake through his hair, feeling the rumble in his chest as he hums.

“Joel,” you whisper, scratching your nails against his scalp. He makes a little noise, shuffling closer to you on the bed. “Baby, are you okay?”

He goes still suddenly, muscles tensing in every place he’s pressed against you, hand squeezing your ribs. You try to roll towards him, your free hand reaching for his shoulder, but he pushes your hand away, lifting himself up and over you, one thigh sliding between your legs until the thickness of it is pressed right against your crotch. It makes you hiss.

“Joel—”

“Don’t,” he rasps, his other hand planted on the bed beside your head. You can’t help but arch up into him, your body always managing to react to him whether you want it to or not. “Let me make you feel good.”

“We should ta—” you start, but you’re cut off by a bruising kiss. The force of it presses you down into the pillows, one leg lifting to hitch over his hip, your hands reaching up to tangle in his hair. He drinks the air from your lungs, pushes his tongue past your teeth and tastes your mouth, lowers himself just enough that the friction of his body weight sparks your blood with lust.

“In the morning, we can talk,” he grumbles, moving his mouth along your jaw, nipping at your skin. “I don’t wanna talk right now. Not about that.”

“J—” you start, but you never get the rest of his name out.

You’re only wearing a thin tank top, the flannel discarded, and Joel makes the most of it, curling his fingers in the front and pulling, your breasts spilling out over the elastic. He wastes no time, lowering his head to one, giving you just the slightest edge of his teeth, his hand abandoning your ribs to tweak at your nipple, coaxing it to a peaked bud between his knuckles.

Back arching, you pull at his hair, hooking your other foot around his leg and forcing him closer to you, seeking out the friction of his body between your legs. He doesn’t give it to you, but instead lets his mouth wander across your chest, giving your other side the same teeth-and-tongue treatment while his hand moves down, fingers sliding along your stomach, diving straight under the waist of your sweats. The pads of his index and middle press down hard on your clit, and you keen, his name gritted out as he draws circle after circle, the pressure maddening in the best way.

He detaches from you just long enough to pull his fingers back, pushing both past his lips, tongue laving at his knuckles. As he does, you reach for your waistband, lifting your ass and shoving the fabric over your hips. It gets stuck, your legs pinned together, but Joel barely seems to notice. His mouth returns to your chest, bites nipped across your skin, while he wedges his hand against you, fingers curled and pressing into you in one fluid motion. He buries them to the hilt, and stops, letting you adjust, his mouth still paying close attention to your nipples. You’re sure your chest will be littered with bite marks come morning, but as he curls his knuckles, you don’t fucking care.

“Joel,” you manage to rasp out, one hand buried in the back of his head, keeping him against you. “God, fucking fuck, please, can you—” The words are cut off with a moan as he scissors his fingers wide, pressing against that spot that makes your vision white out.

“What, baby?” he mumbles, his voice muffled by your skin. “What d’you need? Use your words.”

“I…I want…” You’re panting at the intensity, the multiple points of pleasure making your head spin. “Fuck.”

In a flash, he’s pulled himself out of your grip, hovering over you. With one hand, he pulls your sweats off completely, tossing the fabric to the side, and slides his knees beneath you, your legs spread wide either side of his hips. He leans over you, fingers still buried deep, and his palm rests at the base of your throat, dark eyes flashing down at you in the dark.

“Words, Liv.”

You groan, reaching for his wrist, pulling his hand higher up your neck until you can feel his fingers either side of your throat, just enough pressure to make everything in you tighten. He curls the fingers inside you again, your thighs shaking as he does, and he leans down further, takes your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging before letting it snap back.

“Want your cock, Joel,” you nearly whimper out, the pressure and the pleasure and the whiskey in the back of your head getting the better of you. “Please, need to feel you.”

He wastes no time giving you what you ask for.

Faintly, you hear the clatter of his belt hitting the ground, the metallic sound of his zipper, the low grunt as he settles himself over you. Your hands scrabble for bare skin, diving beneath the hem of his t-shirt, scraping at scars and freckles and the dips in his spine as he pushes into you. You both groan together, Joel nipping at your cheek, hot breath fanning your lips.

He’s losing himself in you, you can tell. Even high on the pleasure he’s pulling from you, you can feel it in every thrust, every squeeze of his hands, every touch of his lips. You need to talk, but the only talking he wants right now has nothing to do with the state of your lives. But you can feel the desperation, the need, the want, the lust, the love. You feel it in yourself, too, and you let it take over.

You cum with a cry muffled in Joel’s shoulder, your nails digging into his skin as he pounds you through it. The sound of the box spring scraping the cinderblocks nearly makes you laugh, but his mouth finds yours before you can let the noise out, instead swallowing down his moans as he spills himself deep. 

He keeps driving into you, every nerve set on fire, wringing another orgasm out of you that steals what little breath you’ve sucked down. He moans into your mouth when your body clenches down on him, your nails digging in deeper, probably deep enough to draw blood, definitely enough to leave red welts on his shoulders. You’re clinging to him, the weight of him pressing you into the mattress the only thing so solid and comforting that as he settles against you, you think you could fall asleep right then and there, and you nearly do.

You’re faintly aware of him pulling out of you, his fingers trailing between your legs as his spend seeps out, pushing it back in, rubbing his now-wet thumb over your clit over and over. You let out a whine, teetering on the brink of overstimulation, but his mouth covers yours again, soft kisses littered across your lips, corner to corner.

“One more, baby,” he murmurs, his voice a deep rasp, the words almost begged. “Please?”

Joel was quick to give you what you want, and you’re no different, fisting his t-shirt in your hand, your legs spreading as he pushes his fingers into you. The intrusion makes your blood spike, still reeling from the feeling of him, and the combination of your orgasms between your legs only makes his fingers move that much easier, finding all the right places over and over until you’re a babbling mess, thrashing in the sheets as he coaxes a third from you, praise muttered in your ear the whole way through.

In retrospect, you know that he planned it this way. Distract you with sex, make you cum so hard you see literal fucking stars, leave you so spent you’re barely coherent by the end, shoving weakly at his shoulder, your chest heaving and sparks shooting across your vision. After you’ve both cleaned up, dragging yourself to the bathroom on shaky legs, Joel huffing a laugh and you shooting him a glare — you’re exhausted. 

By the time you stagger back to the bed, cleaned and clothed, your heart still racing and your breaths still heaved, Joel’s completely asleep, and you just shake your head, sliding onto the bed with him, fitting yourself against him, pulling his arm around your waist before you let yourself drift off as well.

+

It gets to the point where it’s not even subtle. He’s being painfully obvious about it, obnoxious even. You can barely get a word out, barely manage to make it through the door most days before he’s on you, tugging at your clothes and seeking out your mouth.

The moment your eyes open in the morning, he’s pulling at you, mouth seeking yours, hands caressing your body, waking you up in the best possible way. It doesn’t matter who gets home first; he’s either waiting sat at the kitchen table, leaping to his feet with a grunt the moment you’re through the door, or he’s the one bursting through, kicking the door shut behind him and fucking you on the nearest flat surface. The kitchen table, the counter, the couch, the bed. Joel’s not picky.

It’s a distraction, you know. He’s trying to distract you from getting him to talk about Tommy, about what was said that night, and is distracting himself in the process.

You haven’t seen Tommy since that less-than-pleasant family dinner. From what you’ve gathered from Tess, he hasn’t been at their apartment much, and it’s rare for her to see him between curfews. He’s snuck back in through the window a few times, scaring the living hell out of Tess in the process. She’s tried to pry each time, try to find out where he’s been, but he won’t say a damn word.

Tess tried to talk Tommy out of it when she got back that night, like you’d planned, but got nowhere. You tried to corner him in the stairwell on your way out of the apartment one day, and he bolted like a scared animal before you could get a word out. 

He bails on the few smuggling runs you manage to plan in the weeks that follow. He’s awol, in every sense, but it doesn’t leave you short-handed — Tess is always up for a challenge, and knowing Gwen and her crew aren’t an issue anymore gives you a sick sense of safety.

Joel’s a little reluctant to head out of the QZ, easing only slightly when you inform him Tess is game. When you remind him that there’s no possible way you could have a repeat of last time, he relaxes further still, and when you drag your hands through his hair, kissing your way up his throat as you go, murmuring into his skin that it’ll all work out just fine, he’s putty in your hands.

So, nearly three weeks after family dinner, you’re heading out on another run. No drop or meet-ups this time, just an exploration of sorts. There’s a neighbourhood north of the city you hit in the early days of the QZ, when Nick was still keeping all your secrets and looking the other way when you snuck back over the wall. Big houses, cookie-cutter shit lining the streets, you’d managed to pick through a few of the bungalows, but there were bigger homes, near mansions that you have yet to explore. Chances are most of them are picked clean, but your luck has yet to run out.

Joel’s a good ten feet ahead of you, rifle slung across his back. One of the bigger guns in your supply; you don’t have much ammo for it and it was usually Tommy’s, since he was the best shooter of the four of you. Seeing Joel carrying it, you can’t help but wonder if his choice of weapon was purposeful or not. You’re on his right side, hanging back with Tess, the two of you chatting away as you walk the empty roads between the city and the suburb. It’s a weird little blip, the roads lined with cars, ones you remember being parked in the middle of the lanes now pushed out either side, leaving the middle clear.

“They must have cleared it,” Joel calls over his shoulder to you and Tess, inspecting one of the cars, the damage on its side. “Made way for their big trucks and tanks and shit.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Tess jokes, and you have to stifle your laugh at the dry look he gives her.

You continue on, your bat in hand, hefting it over your shoulder as you walk. Tess is talking, recounting her last conversation with Tommy before you’d left. “He still won’t say a goddamn word,” he tells you, and you glance at Joel’s back as she speaks, not missing the way his shoulder bunch slightly and he gets a few more feet ahead of you. “It’s for our own good, apparently.”

It nearly stops you in your tracks. For your own good. The same fucking excuse you’ve been using as reason why you haven’t told Tess about your…condition? It’s for her own good.

“He’s stubborn,” you say, adjusting your grip on the bat. “I told you, I tried to talk to him, but he fucking bolted.”

“Like a scared fucking animal,” Tess agrees, her brow pinching. “He knows this is fucked up, and yet he just doesn’t fucking get it. You know three people and four soldiers died in that Firefly shootout the other day? Innocent people, not fucking freedom fighters. Tommy’s gonna end up dead, or blown to shit.”

You wince, and Tess grabs your arm.

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” you repeat, brushing her off, trying to brush off the chill that crawls up your spine. You swallow hard, jutting your chin towards Joel’s back. “He’s just as bad. I can’t get a goddamn word in with him before he’s pulling my fucking clothes off.” Tess laughs, and you drop your voice low. “He’s literally screwing me into submission.”

She gives you a conspiratorial grin. “Is that really the worst thing?” You sputter out a giggle, clamping your hand over your mouth, and Joel glances over his shoulders at the pair of you, brow slowly rising. It makes you both burst into laughter, and it gets to the point where Joel stops in his tracks, turning back to scold the both of you for being so loud.

“Gonna get us fuckin’ swarmed, the two of you.”

You both whisper apologies, Tess giving a half-assed salute to Joel’s back when he turns around again, and you smack her arm, rolling your eyes. A moment passes before she speaks again, but there’s something different in her expression.

“All his stuff is gone, Liv,” she tells you, and the tone in her voice nearly stops you. “There’s no talking him out of it. The apartment’s half empty, and honestly, the guy could be a pain in the ass sometimes, and he snores like a trucker, but I miss him. It’s weird, being alone. I never was, not since before Nate, and now it’s just…”

“Lonely?”

“Yeah,” she nods, her gaze going a little far off. “It’s too quiet all the time, and knowing what he’s getting involved in, it fucking sucks.”

You swallow around the lump in your throat, shoving your free hand through your hair, nodding in agreement. “It does fucking suck. I mean, our couch is always open, you could come—”

“Move in with you two?” she asks, both brows lifting. “Fucking like bunnies all the time? No thank you.”

You stifle your laugh, sticking your tongue between your teeth. “I’m just saying, door’s always open for you; I hope you know that.”

“I do.”

You snap your fingers, remembering your promise to her what feels like a year ago. Has it been that long? “I still have to set you up with someone,” you offer, and she starts to protest, but you try to wave her off. “I know, I know, no soldiers, and I swear I won’t, you can just—”

“I don’t need you too, Liv,” she says, “I found someone myself, actually.”

“Oh?”

She nods. “Her name is Robin, she lives in the other building, sometimes works the same food bank shifts as us.” Your jaw drops, knowing exactly who she’s referring to, and Tess is laughing as the realization works its way across your face. Letting out a quiet squeal, you punch her arm lightly, bouncing excitedly. Tess is laughing, and you’re giggling, and it feels nice.

Joel shoots you another look over his shoulder, and you both fall silent, covering your mouths with your hands as he turns back. Tess reaches for your arm. “I really like her, Liv,” she says, and you revel in the warmth that spreads through your chest at the sincerity in her tone. “It’s only been maybe a month or two, but she’s…god, I don’t know. She’s great.”

You beam at her. “I’m glad. You should bring her by, next time we have family dinner.”

“Joel’s gonna be outnumbered, you know.”

You wave your hand, flicking your fingers toward his back. “He’ll survive. If she’s important to you, she’s important to us. End of story. Besides, I have a feeling we’re gonna find the good liquor today; Joel can drink his fill and then some.”

Tess just laughs, and you keep on going.

The neighbourhood looks completely different than you remember, not that it shocks you. All the gardens you remember walking through have become overgrown, the cracks in the sidewalks deeper, the cars parked in most of the driveways more rusted. Joel finally falls back into step with you as you enter the cul-de-sacs, his face wary. You heft the bat, giving him a nod, and the corner of his mouth quirks, but that’s all you get.

He’s been stoic as hell, when he’s not distracting you with his hand down your pants and his mouth at your throat. The few times you’ve gone out into the city together, he’s stone-faced, an attack dog looming at your side, shooting daggers at anyone who lets their gaze linger on you longer than he likes.

Thankfully, the neighbourhood is quiet. You poke through the few houses you want to snoop through as a team, making sure they’re clear before you break off, Tess taking one of the smaller places, you and Joel heading for the largest on the block. 

Joel decides to take the kitchen first, while you head up the stairs, letting the end of your bat rattle the spokes in the handrail as you go. The house is gaudy as hell, clearly once belonging to people who had more money than they knew what to do with. Everything is in disarray now, the carpets stained with blood and bootprints, the picture frames all askew, the wood flooring cracked in places. But still, somewhere underneath it all, there are remnants of a family, unknown faces that peer back at you from the photographs, poised to perfection in a studio somewhere in the city. You had friends that were photographers, before, friends of Dean’s. Who knows where they are now.

The first bedroom you step into looks like it might have belonged to a teenage boy. The walls are a nice blue, wall-to-wall bookshelves along one side, a seat built into the window ledge, a queen-sized bed that’s been stripped of all its bedding, the mattress now stained with substances you hope only occurred after the outbreak. A computer desk in one corner, the monitor smashed inward, the keyboard shattered on the floor. But on the shelves, something of the room’s inhabitant still remains. Comic books, stacks of them, still intact, catch your eye, along with a soccer trophy that’s been toppled, cracked in one place.

You rifle through the comics, thumbing through the pages. A few of the covers are faintly familiar to you, but one jumps out. Savage Starlight. It’s a little ripped at the edges, clearly well-loved, and there are a few of the same series, what looks like the first four issues.

Stuffing the comics into your bag, you head for the next bedroom. The walls are pink, the twin beds on either side covered with blood, and when you see the gaudy decoration on the wall, your heart leaps into your throat and you back out of the room, yanking the door shut so hard it shakes on its hinges.

Sisters.

The ache never really goes away, not truly. You’ve never really stopped thinking about Anna, not once. Hell, you still remember the last conversation you had, before everything went to shit.

+

It was your birthday — Joel’s birthday too — when everything that happened, happened. The evening is crystal-clear to this day, the events that unfolded in your apartment that night seared into your memory, and your shoulder. The morning is a little fuzzy now, but you remember your lunch hour at work:

Dean called first, to tell you he pre-ordered dinner, Thai from your favourite spot, and told you to have fun with your friends at happy hour, that he’d be waiting when you got home. He ended the call with a breezy love you, sweetheart! and you still remember the way it had made your heart hurt, just a little. An ache that was eased when Joel called you later, but right after you hung up with Dean, your phone rang again. Anna.

“Helloooooo,” you’d singsonged, phone propped between your head and your shoulder as you moved the bouquet of roses Dean had sent across your desk, trying to get back to your computer so you could actually get some work done once your lunch hour was over.

“Happy birthday, favourite sister!” Anna had shrieked, and you’d winced at her volume, laughing to yourself as you reached for your still half-full coffee cup.

“I’m your only sister,” you reminded her, and she scoffed.

“Shut up. Are you having a good birthday?”

“It’s not bad,” you answered, “as far as twenty-fifth birthdays go. But it’s still early.”

“I was gonna call you this morning,” she said, and in the background, you could hear the bells of the hardware store ring, signalling a customer, “but I thought you and Dean would be celebrating and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

You’d choked on your coffee, spewing it all over your computer screen, and Anna just laughed. “You’re a menace!”

She just laughed harder, and you couldn’t help but giggle along with her, wiping your screen down, checking to make sure you hadn’t spilled any on yourself. The conversation continued; you asked about your parents, the store, tried to not ask too directly if she’d seen Joel around lately. She returned each of your questions, asking after Dean and work and when you were coming home next, and then—

“Liv, I’m moving out.”

“Huh?”

At that point, Anna was only twenty-one. She’d taken a few years off after high school to try and figure out what she wanted to do, but had apparently hit a roadblock when you moved home after college. Not that you minded much, it was always nice to be around your sister more constantly. It felt different, after you moved to Boston. She called more often, and you talked for hours and hours until you could hear your father shouting in the background that she was gonna rack up his phone bill, but he quickly quieted down when she yelled back that she was talking to you.

She hadn’t really changed her ways much since you left, still partying a decent amount and trying to find her match in Austin. You weren’t completely surprised that she was leaving your parents’ house, but something told you it wasn’t a decision she’d made on her own.

“Jack and I decided last week,” she continued, and you held your breath. You met Jack once, the last time you were home for a holiday. You weren’t totally sold, but Anna was enamoured as anything, so you chalked it up to young love. “I told Mom and Dad last night, and they’re not thrilled, but…I have to do this, Liv.” You could hear the waver in her voice; you could feel it in your chest. “I have to get out of Austin now, like you did, or else I’m never gonna leave.”

Like you did.

You knew how she meant it, in that you’re my big sister and I look up to you way, and it made your heart ache in a simultaneously good and bad way.

“Where are you gonna go?” you asked, chewing the inside of your cheek. “Like, do you guys have a plan?”

“Jack said Colorado,” she answered, “but I thought maybe…” She paused, you could hear her sharp inhale. “I thought maybe Boston?”

When you didn’t answer right away, you could hear Anna panic, her words more and more rambling as she kept talking.

“I mean, only if that’s okay with you. I know it’s your city, and your place and you did this big thing and moved across the country, but I just—”

“Anna,” you called, cutting her off. “Of course, it’s okay with me. Having you closer? Why wouldn’t it be okay?”

You talked well past the end of your lunch hour. Anna tried to let you go more than once, but each time you told her no, it was okay, the excitement in her voice made you laugh. By the end of the call, you had an almost-plan. They wouldn’t move to Boston right away, but Anna would come for a visit, spend some good sister-time with you, and then Jack would come up for a weekend. You’d show them around the city, maybe scope out a few potential apartments, check some job listings. It was a start.

“I love you, Livvy,” she said as you said your goodbyes.

“Love you, too.”

And then it was the end.

+

Joel finds you in the master bedroom, bat on the ground beside you. You’re on all fours, ass in the air, trying to reach something under a chest of drawers. He leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest, and waits until you’re safely clear of the wooden edge before letting out a low wolf whistle. “Now there’s a view.”

You glared at him over your shoulder, laughing quietly as you set your findings on top of the drawers, getting to your feet and dusting off your knees. “As if you don’t see it every day.”

“I do,” he replies, and crosses the room to you, adjusting the rifle over his shoulder. As soon as he’s close enough, he presses his front to your back, sliding his arms around your waist, hands curling around your thighs. “S’like I’m seein’ it for the first time, every time.” You laugh again, and he buries his face in your neck, nipping at your skin, tasting the sweat on your skin. “What’re you doin’ up here?”

You sigh, pointing towards the object you’d unearthed from under the drawers. “It’s a jewellery box, I think. Miracle someone didn’t take it.”

“More rings for your collection?”

Your nose wrinkles and you reach for the box, flipping the lid open. You both suck in breaths when you see the contents, more gold than either of you have ever seen in one place before. There are rings, earrings, a necklace with a diamond the size of your thumbnail. Joel picks up the pendant, rubs his thumb over the jewel.

“Fuckin’ crazy, isn’t it,” he grumbles, and you lean back against him, both of you inspecting the bauble, “how none of this shit is worth anything anymore.”

His eyes dip as you reach into your shirt, pinching the chain around your neck until your ring pops out of your collar. “This is worth something to me.”

Joel’s jaw drops, that awful feeling of shoving his foot directly into his mouth making his stomach twist. “Baby, I didn’t me—”

“I know,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “I just…I was trying to find you a ring, okay? None of the ones I have back at the apartment feel right, so I thought maybe there’d be something…” You trail off, stepping out of his grip and shoving your hand through your hair. “It’s fucking morbid, isn’t it? Wearing someone else’s wedding band? But you found me this one, and it’s mine, no one else’s, and I just…” Shaking your head, Joel can see the tears lining your lashes, and he realizes there’s something more going on here, not just the ring.

“Liv,” he says softly, reaching his hand out, moving slowly, tentatively, until he can wrap his fingers around your shoulder. “I don’t need one, baby. I have you, that’s all I care about.”

You tilt your head back, reaching up and wiping at your wet eyes. “Me, and an official FEDRA document stating that I’m legally your problem.”

Joel smiles, a broad grin that he can feel stretching across his mouth before he can stop it. He doesn’t miss the way your face changes as he grins, your brows raising slightly, your eyes going brighter. “Oh, baby,” he chuckles, putting both arms around you, dipping his head so he can nudge your nose with his. “You’ve been my problem since 2001.”

He gives you a soft kiss, but you pull back after a moment, half-hearted anger in your face. “Hey!”

“My favourite problem,” he laughs, and you’re both giggling now, quick kisses traded while you slide your hands up the sides of his shirt, pinching his ribs and making him flinch. “Oh, you’re trouble.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Always have been.” 

Joel shakes his head at you and just kisses you again.

PREV | NEXT

just trying to make sure tumblr doesn’t eat the ending 🍓

[dino-fart]

Plan for the Week

Hi Everyone,

Thank you for being so patient and still following despite my lack of content.

I still have requests open and prompts to choose from.

At this moment in my inbox is one request which I will be completing tomorrow.

As for the stories, here is my plan:

In the Dragon’s Lair - Stephen Strange!AU x OFC - Chapter 1

The Swan and the Spider - Sinister Strange!AU x Reader - Chapter 1

The Wendigo Forest - Strange Supreme x Reader - Chapter 2

The Hero’s Doctor - Supreme Strange x Reader - Chapter 1

Siren of the Sea - Defender Strange x Reader - Chapter 1

Favorite Features - Multi Strange x Reader - Chapter 1

In Reina In Waal - Namor x Reader - Chapter 4

The Hunt - Sherlock Holmes x Reader - Chapter 1

The Sith and The Mandalorian - Din Djarin x Reader - Chapter 1

The ‘Miracle’ - Joel Miller x Reader - Chapter 6

The Princess and Her Galaxy - Bo-Katan x Din Djarin x Reader - Chapter 3

Heartbreak and Headaches - Joel Miller!AU x Reader - Chapter 1

The Fall of A Kingdom - Pedro Pascal!OC x Reader - Chapter 1

The Blood Moon - Pedro Pascal!OC x Reader - Chapter 1

Let Me In - Pedro Pascal!OC x Reader - Chapter 1

Dear Sister - Pedro Pascal!OC x Reader - Chapter 1

Like you want to be tagged in one or all of these!

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

Pulling them into another kiss before either of them could catch their breaths. Defender/OFC of your choice, please

So, I started to fill this Ask three times, with three different scenarios, until I was able to finish this one. Not sure if I even like how it turned out, for it doesn't have the charm or ease I was hoping for. Still, at least it's written! Oh, and though you asked for one of my OFC's, I ended up using the same Sorceress that appears in my No Defense for the Heart series. Thank you so much for your patience and constant support, my friend!🥰🥰

Defender Strange x Sorceress Reader

edit by @doctorstrangeaskblog

Well this was not the way you'd planned to tell Stephen your life altering news. He had only arrived home from his latest mission with the Defenders twenty minutes ago, and you had hoped to allow him a while to acclimate to normal Sanctum life. Take a shower, see to any dings he may have suffered in whatever battle he'd endured, then sit down to one of his favorite home cooked meals (you'd learned once you'd moved to Bleecker Street, the necessity for a stasis spell; as Sorcerer Supreme and leader of the Defenders, his schedule was far too unpredictable to plan meals--so that you always had a couple set in stasis for when he had actual time to sit down and enjoy one). But all had been upended when you broke from his arms as you greeted him home, to rush to the bathroom before you lost your lunch all over him.

Stephen rapped firmly on the door again, his voice calm but clearly anxious. "You okay in there, honey?" You sat on the edge of the tub, breathing deeply while trying to calm the roiling in your tummy, not sure how to answer just yet. "Can I come in, baby? Maybe there's something I can do to help..."

You cleared your throat, then stood up on shaking legs. "Um...I'm alright..." You gave a quiet belch, hoping he didn't catch that. "Just give me a couple minutes and I'll be right out."

"Alright, Y/N...if you say so." Your heart gladdened at the concern and healthy skepticism in his reply. "But I'm not going anywhere until I can see for myself that you're okay."

"Yes, of course." You tried to sound lighthearted as you stepped to the bathroom sink and slathered paste on your toothbrush. "I just need to make myself presentable, darling." Plunging the brush in your mouth, you began to scrub your teeth and gums with the dedication of a newly minted dental hygienist. Once done, you splashed your face with water, noting how pale your cheeks appeared. Can't be helped, you thought, but maybe he won't notice. Following up with a double rinse of mint mouthwash, gargling each time. Hoping it would be enough to allay any suspicions Stephen might have that you weren't merely sick.

Taking one last look in the mirror, you fluffed your fingers through your hair and gave your cheeks a quick pinch to try a raise some healthier looking color. It would simply have to do. Composing your face to reflect a serenity that eluded you at the moment, you opened the door. The relief on Stephen's face at the sight of you made you smile sincerely.

"What happened, honey?"

You took his hand, leading him to the divan at the foot of the bed. "Nothing much, darling. I've just been...um...a little under the weather the past few days..."

His reaction was immediate; seeing that you were seated first, he laid a palm across your forehead. "Have you been feverish? Wong tells me there's a nasty bug running its course through Kamar-Taj - did you visit there while I was gone?"

"No...no," you assured him gently while urging him to sit, "Not since we were there together the week before last."

"Good," Stephen nodded, "Though you look really pale. Do you think it was something you ate? I know a charm that can help with that..."

"Yeah...no, I'm pretty sure it wasn't." You lowered you eyes, suddenly shy that the moment had come, and come so abruptly. Sensing your reticence, Stephen traced a finger along your jawline, stirring you to shiver, so that he immediately pulled you into his arms. You murmured against his neck, "And it may be a while until I'm gonna feel back to my old self..."

You felt him stiffen a little, his apprehension piqued by your cryptic reply. "Wait...is it something serious? Something requiring traditional medicine?" You realized you'd tripped Stephen's fierce protective instinct - something you had come to adore about him, especially when he directed it at you. "I knew the best doctors in every field in my days at Metropolitan General," he went on, a grim edge to his voice, "More than a few of them owe me favors..."

You shook your head against him, smiling despite how serious he'd become. "Darling, now as always, you're the only doctor I need." Moving enough to face him, running your fingertips across his furrowed brow, you added, "And you're the best medicine a woman... this woman...could ever hope for." Sighing hard, you twined the fingers of your left hand through his right, the diamond of your engagement ring softly glinting. "It's only that I've muddled up the order that we planned for ourselves...if...if you know what I mean..."

Now Stephen looked perplexed, for though you thought he had clues enough to reach the proper conclusion, this was one of those times when the answer was staring him in the face, but his prodigious mind failed to grasp the simplest of realities. "You know, the long-term plan. Engagement. Move in together. Tie the, uh...knot. And then, when the time is right..."

His eyes went wide as saucers while he gasped his surprise. "Start...start our family..." Stephen sputtered, "...when the time is finally right..."

"Uh-huh," you shrugged, feeling both sheepish and contrite, " I got a little ahead of schedule..."

"Oh, my baby doll," he grinned, "My sweet, sweet girl!" Barely leaving you a moment to draw breath, Stephen pulled you to him, planting his lips on yours, murmuring your name as he kissed then kissed and kissed you. Dazed and dazzled as you drew away, you had only a second to memorize his euphoric expression before he pulled your face to his again, for a deeper, more enduring kiss - which was all the assurance you needed to know that even the best laid plans of the most formidable Master of the Mystic Arts could be happily laid waste for sake of the woman who had laid her gentle, loving claim upon his heart.

tagging: @groovyqueer @mousedetective

[queen--kenobi]

The Seven: The Warrior

Summary: When Aegon flees after Viserys’ death, Aemond Targaryen is made King. Now, at the end of the Dance of Dragons, the last obstacle in his way is Daemon Targaryen. As Aemond’s friend and confidant, Elayna Reyne waits, and prays, for the King’s safe return. For her friend’s safe return. Perhaps even for her love’s safe return.

King Aemond AU!

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x OFC (Elayna Reyne), Aemond Targaryen x Elayna Reyne, unrequited OC x OFC (Tymon Lannister x Elayna Reyne god please never let me type that again)

Warnings: Period typical sexism, possessive and downright creepy behavior (thanks Tymon), a lil’ NSFT with some dirty talk

Author’s note: Hi yes hello! Are y’all ready for the introduction of both my OCs, Elayna Reyne and Tymon Lannister? Because here they are! Big thanks to @book-of-baba-fett for beta’ing and @writingbylee for letting me bounce ideas off them!

Elayna kneels before the altar in the Sept. Her knees ache from being on the cold stone floor, but she does not care. 

“May the Father defend the King in battle and guide his hand in delivering justice for those who have suffered.” Her lips move with her prayer, but no sound escapes them. “May the Mother extend mercy towards the King and keep him safe. May the Warrior grant the King favorable conditions and lend strength so that the King may return home. May the Smith help the King fix the Realm and bring peace. May the Crone give the King wisdom and guidance when he needs it most.” Elayna pauses and swallows. “May the Maid keep me safe if the worst should happen.” She breathes in, and her lips curve. “May the King deliver Daemon Targaryen unto the Stranger for eternity.”

She has no idea how long she’s been in the Sept, praying. She came into the Sept at the hour of ghosts, unable to sleep. She hasn’t been able to sleep at all over the past week. When she does, her dreams are filled with her worst fears come to life. Those fears are why she kneels in front of the altar. Elayna knows she can do nothing in this situation but pray.

“May the Father defend the King in battle and guide his hand in delivering justice for those who have suffered. May the Mother extend mercy towards the King and keep him safe. May the Warrior grant the King favorable conditions and lend strength so that the King may return home. May the Smith help the King fix the Realm and bring peace.  May the Crone give the King wisdom and guidance when he needs it most. May the Maid keep me safe if the worst should happen. May the King deliver Daemon Targaryen unto the Stranger for eternity.”

The wax drips down the side of the altar. Touching the wax hurts from how hot it is. Strangely, it seems almost translucent. Then again, the flames from the candles are low, so low they don’t fight the darkness creeping in from the outside. Elayna does not care. She doesn’t need to be able to see. Sometimes, she thinks her prayers whispered in the dark are answered more often than those whispered in the light of day.

“May the Father defend Aemond in battle and guide his hand in delivering justice for those who have suffered. May the Mother extend mercy towards Aemond and keep him safe. May the Warrior grant Aemond favorable conditions and lend strength so that Aemond may return home. May the Smith help Aemond fix the Realm and bring peace. May the Crone give Aemond wisdom and guidance when he needs it most. May the Maid keep me safe if... If the worst should happen. May Aemond deliver Daemon Targaryen unto the Stranger tonight for eternity.”

Elayna didn’t realize how much her chest hurt until she spoke Aemond’s name. She can’t explain it. Her being feels lighter knowing she had the courage to finally use his name in the prayer instead of calling him by his title. 

She’s done a lot of prayers in Aemond’s name. All of them have been answered, though. Elayna bites the inside of her cheek. Hopefully, this one will be looked upon favorably as well. 

Aemond hasn’t been King long. Aegon fled upon hearing the news of Viserys’s death, which meant Aemond became King. All things considered, Aegon probably did the Realm a favor fleeing. Everyone knows he would not be suited. Once Aemond had confided in Elayna he would make a much better King than Aegon, and Elayna agreed. Perhaps she was biased, though. 

Aemond is her... 

She calls Aemond her friend. He is more than that in her mind, but she dare not say so aloud.

Does Aemond feel the same way about her? She knows she is his friend; he has called her that on several occasions, although mostly in private. He did not need to do so in public. Elayna cannot count the number of times people have commented on their friendship. Plenty of people have made the observation she is one of the few people who has managed to make her way past some of Aemond’s walls. 

Aemond trusts her. This is an undeniable fact. He would come to her when needing advice or simply someone to listen to before the war. Since it started, though, he has come more and more often to ask for her opinion. Not just as his friend but as his confidant. He talked battle plans and strategic maneuvers to her. She does not know- did not know his family as he did, but she knew enough to give him feedback. Elayna also has ears; she listens in Court and then tells Aemond what might be useful. Gossip can be utilized in a surprising number of ways.

Elayna breathes deep. Her chest still feels tight and constricted, although not nearly to the extent it did before. She shifts. The noise her dress makes as she moves feels eerily loud in the silence. No one is around.

Perhaps. Perhaps she should be honest. The Seven know her heart so she does not need to hide.

“May the Father defend...” She begins. Her chest hurts. Elayna takes a deep breath and blinks back tears.

“May the Father defend my King, my love, my Aemond, in battle and guide his hand in delivering justice for those who have suffered. May the Mother extend mercy towards my love and keep him safe. May the Warrior grant my love favorable conditions and lend strength so that my love may return home. May the Smith help my love fix the Realm and bring peace. May the Crone give my love wisdom and guidance when he needs it most. May the Maid keep me safe if Aemond should fail. May my love deliver Daemon Targaryen unto the Stranger for eternity.”

Elayna sits back on her heels. She lifts her head to give her aching neck a reprieve. As she looks at the ceiling, things seem... different. She has no way of telling if it’s because her prayers are being answered or if it’s because she’s being honest with herself.

She loves Aemond. Not in the way a subject should love their King or a friend loves another friend, but in the way only a, well, lover can. Every fiber of her being, every square inch of her soul, loves Aemond. She belongs to Aemond, if he will have her. 

That is where her fears lie. She doesn’t know what she will do if he doesn’t want her like she wants him. If she tells him, she risks ruining everything. He may not even want her in his life anymore, and the thought alone feels as if she is being ripped into thousands of pieces. She would risk certain death for him.

She has risked it for him.

When Rhaenyra came, she slipped through the tunnels like a thief in the night. Elayna had been with Aemond when the fighting began. She doesn’t remember everything, details getting lost in the shuffle. All she remembers is Rhaenyra advancing upon Aemond. Elayna did what she had to do; she jumped between them.

It was a bold move and could have been a stupid move, but Elayna didn’t let herself think. If she did, she would have panicked. Instead, she lets herself be guided by her instinct. For once, she was thankful she was forced to spend so much time with the Lannisters. No one expects a Reyne to be able to talk like a Lannister, cajole and convenience like one. Elayna did it, though.

Sometimes she wonders. Did she put respect on the name of House Reyne? Surely she did because her actions meant Aemond’s men were able to turn the tide and capture Rhaenyra, but at the same time. She knows people see her differently. Elayna mostly sees it from people who are wary of Lannisters. They give her looks she has given Jason and Tyland and Tymon when she thought they were not paying attention. Part of Elayna wishes to desperately reach out and offer something, anything, to prove she’s not manipulative like them.

Ironically, if she does, Elayna knows she will be seen as even more manipulative.

Elayna sighs softly. She can feel her head start to get clouded and heavy with unpleasant thoughts. She breathes through her nose. They don’t matter. What matters right now, more than anything, is Aemond comes back safe and sound. It does not matter if he loves her or how people perceive her. All that matters is he is alive.

The rest can be dealt with in time.

“May the Father defend my-”

A door squeals. The groan of rusty hinges seems so loud in the dark. Elayna whips her head to look over her shoulder. Footsteps echo as someone comes down the stairs. She watches with baited breath. The candles by the foot of the staircase, low in the wicks, reveal someone Elayna would rather not see.

Tymon Lannister smiles at Elayna. It isn’t the sweet or charismatic smile reserved for the public or people he’s trying to convince he’s a decent man. It’s the cruel, slightly sadistic smile he seems to reserve specifically for her.

“Elayna Reyne.” He greets. His footsteps seem so loud. Elayna glares at him.

“Tymon. To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

She wants to turn back to the altar, but she knows better. One never turns their back on an enemy, and Tymon is more than just an enemy. Elayna’s most violent and vicious dreams often involve her hurting him. Not necessarily killing him, though. Killing him in those dreams would be a kindness, one she is not willing to extend even when it does not matter.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Elayna’s brow furrows. It could be a lucky guess, but something tells her he knows more than he’s letting on.

“No.” She eventually admits. “I was having terrible dreams.”

“I remember.” Tymon stops once he’s standing beside her. “You would always sneak off into the Sept at Casterly Rock when you couldn’t sleep.”

“How do you know that?” Elayna’s eyebrow shoots into her hairline. Tymon makes a noise as he kneels beside her.

“We’ve been over this, Elayna.” He sounds as if he’s talking down to her, as if she forgot something important. She bristles at his tone. “I pay attention to things about you.”

“Because you’re fond of me, yes.” Elayna resists the urge to roll her eyes and instead looks forward. 

“You remembered. I thought time with our dear King would have made you forget.”

Elayna purses her lips. She wants to ask him what he’s doing, what his angle is, but she doesn’t. No doubt she will lose her temper if provoked today.

“Time with our King doesn’t mean I would forget that.” While her words were nice, her tone makes it clear she does not mean them in a sympathetic way. “What do you want?”

“I came to pray.”

Elayna looks at him. While it could very well be a cover, Tymon seems serious. 

“At this hour? Why?”

“I could ask the same of you.’

“I’m praying for the King’s safety.”

“Something you seem to be doing often.” Even in the low light, Elayna sees Tymon’s smirk. “My prayer is not nearly as important as yours since yours concerns the King.”

Elayna huffs and turns her head back to the altar.

“You make it sound as if I determine the validity of prayers.”

“Oh, I know you don’t.” Tymon sounds far too delighted with himself. Elayna steels herself. No doubt he’s going to try and undermine her in some way. He leans in, far too close than he should. She can feel his breath on her skin, almost feel his lips on her ear.  “You may have the King’s ear, but you will never have the ear of the Seven. I’m afraid even they are beyond your reach.”

Elayna turns her head. Tymon has moved back some, but he’s still so close his nose almost touches hers.

“If the Seven are beyond my reach, then they are certainly out of yours.”

Tymon looks as if she’d struck him. Elayna fights to keep her face straight, to not let her lips curl into a twisted grin. She turns back to the altar.

“I’m going to continue to pray. Do you wish to pray with me or not?” She knows she has to offer during this situation. Part of her desperately hopes he’ll say no.

“You may lead. Who knows. Perhaps combined the Seven may listen to us.” 

Elayna doesn’t respond. She tries to keep her revulsion at the implication in his tone down. Instead, she bows her head. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Tymon do the same.

“May the Father defend King Aemond in battle and guide his hand in delivering justice for those who have suffered. May the Mother extend mercy towards King Aemond and keep him safe. May the Warrior grant King Aemond favorable conditions and lend strength so the King may return home. May the Smith help King Aemond fix the Realm and bring peace. May the Crone give King Aemond wisdom and guidance when he needs it most. May King Aemond deliver Daemon Targaryen unto the Stranger for eternity.”

Elayna lifts her head. After a moment, Tymon lifts his as well.

“You missed the Maiden.”

“The King has no use for the Maiden in this particular instance.”

“You asked that the Smith help the King and the Crone to guide him.” Tymon shrugs with forced nonchalance. “You seem to be looking towards the future.”

“And what would I ask of the Maiden on behalf of the King?” Elayna looks at Tymon. While she knows this is no doubt a trap, she is curious. What could she ask for from the Maiden for Aemond?

“A wife who will bear him many heirs.”

Tymon doesn’t blink. Instead, he stares at her. The look is cold and calculating. “Unless perhaps you do not wish for the King to have that.”

“Why would I not?” Elayna thanks the low light. She knows her face is red and hot with both embarrassment and anger. 

“Because it won’t be you.” Tymon sounds so certain of it. “You may be friends, but that does not guarantee marriage.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t guarantee marriage. You make it sound as if you think that’s the only reason I’m his friend.”

“I do.” Elayna physically recoils at Tymon’s words. If she weren’t so shocked, she would slap him. “At first, I thought you were friends with him to punish me for whatever perceived transgressions you had in your mind about me. But then I thought you were simply running because you enjoy the chase. Now, I’m beginning to think you only follow through to make me jealous.” Tymon hums. “You did mention in your speech to Rhaenyra that the Westerlands would come down upon her if she were to kill you. You recognize where your home is. Where you belong.”

“I belong to no man.”

“For now. But eventually, you’ll tire of running. I would stop sooner rather than later, though. I am not exactly level headed when I feel someone may try to take what is mine.” Tymon’s teeth flash in the darkness. Elayna opens her mouth to give him a piece of her mind when a noise makes her stop. Instinctively, both she and Tymon look upward.

“Was that...” Elayna begins. Another noise sounds. This one makes the building shake. Carefully, she stands up. Tymon does the same.

“We should check.” Elayna starts towards the door, but Tymon grabs her hand.

“What if it is Daemon, come to kill us? You especially.”

“I’d rather die by fire than by suffocating in rubble.”

Elayna yanks her hand back She begins up the stairs, and Tymon follows. When they get outside, Elayna can see the few who are awake heading out as well. Servants scurry around in the background. She makes her way towards the courtyard. The night air feels blessedly cool on her skin. When she sees the dragon in the courtyard, her heart leaps into her throat. She takes off running, down the stairs as fast as she can.

Her prayers worked.

Aemond is alive.

Aemond is home.

Vhagar seems worse for wear, but she clearly has fight left in her. She shifts impatiently. In the moonlight, Elayna sees movement on Vhagar’s side. Aemond’s white hair seems almost radiant. He jumps the rest of the way. Once he’s safe on the ground, Vhagar extends her wings once more. She roars a third and final time before taking off into the night sky. Elayna has to stop and shield her eyes. The wind whipping about is intense, almost storm-like. She stands at the bottom of the steps until Vhagar climbs high enough that the wind dies.

Elayna runs once more.

“Aemond!”

Aemond looks at her. Even now, a sort of mania lingers in his expression. He visibly perks up when he sees her, the intensity of his looks amplifying. He strides towards her with long, even steps. 

“Elayna.” He breathes her name with a sort of reverence she’s never heard before. Up close, she notices blood on his hands and face. Elayna frowns and reaches out. She thinks better at the last second and brings her hand back to herself.

“Are you alright?”

Aemond looks down at himself, as if he’s only just noticing the dried and crusted substance. 

“ ‘Tis not mine.”

“So he’s dead?”

“Yes.” He opens his riding coat to show a sword. Elayna’s eyes widen. She never saw Dark Sister, but she had heard of the sword. She looks at Aemond. Daemon would not part with the sword willingly, nor would he let it get away from him.

“You won.” Even though it is not her victory, the words feel pleasant in her mouth and give her a buzz. It radiates all over her body, from the crown of her head to her toes. She wants to laugh. “The Realm is yours.”

Aemond’s eye darkens. He looks wild almost. The intensity of his gaze alone fixes Elayna in place. He closes the gap between them.

“It is.” He sounds almost satiated. Something is missing, though. Elayna can’t help herself; she has to know.

“How does it feel to have everything you ever wanted?” Aemond’s hand flexes. He looks as if he wants to reach out.

“I have most of it. Not everything.” The dark look returns. “By the end of the day, I will have everything I want and more. Perhaps even by sunrise.”

“My King.” Tymon’s voice nearly makes Elayna jump. She hadn't realized everything faded away when she saw Aemond. She can hear the noise of people coming to the courtyard, see lights from candles being quickly lit in windows. “You did it.”

Aemond finally looks away from Elayna. The look he gives Tymon is absolutely withering.

“You sound as if you doubted me.” He doesn’t bother waiting for Tymon to respond. Instead, his gaze snaps back to Elayna. “Do you trust me?”

“Perhaps.” Aemond’s lips twitch. Elayna can’t help her answering smile.

“Excellent.” Aemond reaches forward and grabs Elayna’s wrist. His grip is not bruising, careful not to hurt her, but hard enough it appears as if he’s dragging her behind him. He isn’t, though. Elayna goes with him willingly. The small crowd forming starts to part. People murmur amongst themselves. One of the Kingsguard comes down the stairs to meet Aemond.

“Queen Alicent requests your presence in her Solar.” 

“Tell my mother we’ll be there shortly.”

“She requests your presence alone.” The guard’s voice is firm, but Elayna doesn’t miss the way he very subtly shifts his weight. Aemond’s posture stiffens.

“What I have to say pertains to my mother, my grandsire, and Lady Reyne.” Aemond’s grip on Elayna’s wrist tightens for a second. “She will be coming with.”

The guard dips his head.

“I will tell the Queen.” With that, he turns and heads back up the stairs. Aemond begins walking again. Elayna stops, though. Aemond looks back at her.

“Can I at least ask what this is about?” 

“You said you trusted me.” Elayna nods. “Then trust.”

“Okay. Okay, I trust you.”

They head up the stairs and into the castle. Aemond effortlessly leads the way. As they make their way up staircases and through hallways, people begin to stir. Lights begin to seep from underneath more and more doorways as they pass them. Elayna hears faint conversations as well. Nothing loud enough she can make out specific words but enough she knows people are awake. Several times, they see some servants passing through the halls as well, no doubt going to spread the news of the King’s return. 

Elayna doesn’t notice Aemond’s hand slips down from her wrist to her hand until she feels his palm against hers. After a second, she interlaces her fingers with his. She looks forward even as she squeezes his hand. She wonders if she’s taken it too far, read too much into it, before Aemond squeezes her hand back.

She tries to ignore the way her heart slams against her ribcage at the small contact.

As they go up further, they see less and less doors. Eventually, the two of them reach the Queen’s Solar. Two of the Kingsguard stand outside the door. One of them knocks on the door.

“King Aemond and Lady Elayna Reyne, your Grace.” The guard announces as they step into the room. Alicent sits on the couch. Her hair is down, and it’s obvious she’s been biting and picking at her nails. She looks terrified, as if even now she expects the worst. The minute Aemond steps into the room, she almost springs to her feet and rushes over to Aemond. 

“Are you alright?” She asks. Her face drops at the sight of blood. She reaches out with unsteady hands and gently cups his face. Aemond steps forward. He lets go of Elayna’s hand so he can reach forward and place his hands on his mother’s shoulders. 

“ ‘Tis not mine.”

“Is he dead?” Otto’s voice nearly makes Elayna jump. He’s standing in the corner. He steps forward. Aemond merely pulls out Dark Sister. The blade somehow seems to shimmer in the light while also absorbing everything. 

Aemond sheathes the sword. As soon as the sword is sheathed, Alicent moves forward and hugs her son. Otto watches from the corner. For a second, his gaze turns to Elayna. She can feel him calculating, trying to figure out why exactly Aemond would have brought her here. When Alicent lets go of Aemond, Otto finally moves forward.

“Congratulations. The Realm is now yours.”

The words hang in the air for a moment. Aemond dips his head.

“It is.” The wild look in Aemond’s eye returns. This time, the focus of his ire is Otto. He walks over to Otto. His gait is smoothed and controlled, too controlled. Elayna feels fear creep up her spine. It’s not right. She thinks back to watching a lynx stalk a wild boar. It also sends a thrill through her entire being. She knows she is not the target, and some part of her mind thinks whatever Aemond is doing is for her benefit. Aemond stops in front of Otto.

“I suppose I should thank you for your service to the Realm.”

That’s all the warning Otto gets before Aemond reaches forward. He doesn’t yank the pin off of Otto’s chest. It certainly isn’t an easy or friendly gesture either. It feels like watching the lynx pounce on the boar. 

Alicent gasps. Otto stands for a moment, as if in utter shock. Aemond turns back around. This time, his intense gaze is directed at Elayna. She’s transfixed to the spot. Aemond’s one eye never wavers, never strays from her face. He makes his way over to her. 

Aemond looks at her. After a moment, Elayna nods. Wordlessly, he takes the left side of her silver stole and slides the pin onto it. He takes care to keep his fingers from touching her too much. The gesture feels strangely intimate nonetheless. The pin feels almost heavy on Elayna’s chest.

“You can’t be serious.” Otto seems to finally find his words. He scoffs. “Aemond, I know she is your friend, but that hardly qua-”

Aemond whips around to face his grandsire.

“Elayna has provided me with more useful council over the course of our friendship than you have in your entire life.” Venom drips from every word. “Several of her suggestions helped us sway certain parties into alliances with us. She has proved her worth time and time again.” Aemond stops. His chest heaves. “I can trust her advice comes from a place of selflessness, not from a place of greed.”

“Aemond.” Alicent scolds. “That is your grandsire you speak to.”

“Which is why I shall send him back to Oldtown instead of having him face a tribunal.”

“A tribunal?” Otto raises an eyebrow. “On what grounds?”

“Conspiring against the Crown.” Elayna even shocks herself when she speaks. All three stare at her. “Your transgressions against King Viserys are well documented. In addition, you have also conspired against King Aemond by acting not with the best interest of the Realm at heart but your own. This does not even cover your active attempts to undermine the King by attempting to find Aegon and to broker alliances and contracts without the King’s input or explicit permission.” Elayna juts her chin out slightly. “If you do not believe me, I’m sure our Master of Coins would be willing to provide testimony.”

The mention of bringing Tyland Lannister into this makes Otto’s face pale for a second. Alicent brings her hand to cover her mouth. Aemond’s expression shifts from one surprise to one of fury.

“You sought out my brother? The traitor who abandoned the Realm?”

“I sought him out in the capacity of family.” Otto tries to reassure Aemond. To his credit, he does stand his ground, even as Aemond begins to advance angrily upon him. “Besides. What do you care if he abandoned the Realm? His leaving gave you everything you wanted.”

“And his coming back, if he is to be found, undermines everything I have done!” Aemond spits. Elayna steps forward. Without thinking, she places a hand on Aemond’s bicep. Otto’s eyes narrow at the actions.

“We don’t even know if he’s alive.” Aemond turns his head just enough to look at her. “And if he were to come back, I doubt it would be to try and claim the title of King. He ran from it to begin with. He no doubt would just want more money to fund his exploits.”

“Are you sure your judgment is not clouded?” Otto pointedly looks at their physical contact.

“I have never seen more clearly.”

“And what has she done for the Realm? By all means, tell us.”

“Might I remind you, I saved the King’s life.” Otto looks at her. It almost seems as if he is seeing her for the first time, finally regarding her with some value. “While you stood to the side thinking about how to protect your own head if Rhanerya and her men won, I stepped in and not only prevented the King’s death but also bought necessary time to defeat her.”

Otto raises an eyebrow. He seems as if he wants to laugh at Elayna. “And you did not act out of selfishness?”

“What does that mean? If you wish to level accusations at my character, state them.”

“Aemond.” Alicent speaks again. “You cannot.”

“I can and will.” When Aemond looks at his mother, his expression softens. “He is no ally to you, and you have no need for him. With Rhanerya and Daemon gone, you will have no legitimate foes within the Court.”

“This is ridiculous. You cannot be serious.”

“If you are not riding for Oldtown by the time the sun rises, you will face full punishment.” Aemond’s voice is dark and leaves no room for debate. 

“You’re making a mistake.” Otto’s voice turns dark. If his tone wasn’t enough to indicate a veiled threat, the look he gives Elayna indicates as much. 

“If you wish to keep your tongue, I would not repeat such a sentiment.” Aemond nearly growls. “Elayna is my Hand.”

The finality of his words lingers in the air. After a second, Otto dips his head.

“Very well then.”

Otto slips out of the room. Despite his words, Elayna knows this is not over. No doubt the matter has only just begun. She closes her eyes. Already, she can feel a headache beginning to build in her temples.

Alicent looks at Aemond. Tears threaten to overflow.

“Aemond, he is your blood. He will ultimately make the best choices for you.”

“No.” Aemond shakes his head. He takes gentle steps towards her. “He will not. Because he is your father, you cannot see what he has done.”

Alicent doesn’t say anything for a long moment. The heartbreak on her face makes Elayna’s heart twinge. Aemond takes a gentle hold of her arms.

“It hurts, but I am acting in the Realm’s best interest. Elayna will serve me faithfully.”

Alicent takes a deep breath before nodding. She doesn’t look entirely convinced. Elayna has no doubt this conversation will be repeated.  Alicent brings her hand back up to her mouth. Elayna notices her nails have almost been bitten to the quick. Aemond steps away.

“I must debrief Elayna.” He turns to Elayna. “I shall do so in my chambers.”

As they make their way back to his chambers, Elayna’s heart tries to tear itself into so many pieces. Aemond is alive and home, and she cannot be more thankful or grateful. An almost giddy sense of glee wants to overtake her. The rising feeling is only intensified as she realizes. She’s the Hand. Being Hand was not something she sought out, or even thought herself capable of getting, and now. Now she’s the Hand.

She’s no longer just some girl from the Westerlands, and she’s not just some Reyne either. She’s the Hand of the King.

Elayna’s rising tide of joy falls as quickly as it came. Can she...? Can she even accept it? She knows she just did, but she. Loving Aemond is a conflict of interest. She cannot pretend otherwise. She would not necessarily think of what’s best for the Realm but only what is best for Aemond. A Hand can’t do that.

Elayna stops. Aemond looks back at her.

“Aemond, I...” The words stick to the inside of her throat.

“Come.” Aemond steps back towards her. He reaches out and takes hold of both of her hands. “Not here.” 

Elayna nods. The Red Keep always has too many ears, but no doubt the ears will be listening even more intently to what she says and does.

Aemond took Viserys’s old chambers after the former king died. They do not look or feel anything like Viserys from what Elayna knew of him. Instead, they feel like Aemond. Everything is kept neat and in order. When the war began, Aemond’s chambers were decorated with greens and golds. Now, blacks and reds take up most of the spaces. A large table with a map of Westeros engraved on it sits in the main chamber. Several bookcases take up one of the walls. No doubt the entire wall will be obscured by them within a year.

“Aemond.” She begins. “I do have something I must speak with you about.”

He takes a seat by the fireplace. A servant lit a fire for him on their return. The light from the flames makes him seem almost unreal.

“I don’t accept.” He looks at her.

 Damn him. Either she’s easier to read than she thought, or he’s been around her for far too long. Elayna crosses her arms just under her chest, lightly clasping one elbow while her forearms rest over each other.

“You don’t even know what I have to say.”

Aemond raises an eyebrow.

“So you weren’t about to resign?” Mirthful fills his tone. Elayna huffs.

“I have reason.”

“And it’s bullshit.” Aemond’s tone switches from playful to serious within a matter of seconds.

“You don’t even know what it is!”

“Then tell me.” Aemond stands up. “If it is a legitimate reason, I will accept. But if it is not, I will not be pleased you wasted my time.”

Okay.

Okay, Elayna can do this. She can tell him what it is. She opens her mouth. The words die on her tongue.

“I...”

Aemond watches. 

“You what?”

“Aemond, it is not an easy thing for me to say!”

“Tell me now. I will order you to if I must.” Aemond steps forward. “Do not make me.” The quiet please underneath his tone at the second part makes Elayna’s resolve crumble.

“Aemond, I...” She takes a deep breath. Her heart feels as if it’s about to hammer out of her chest. “I do not know when this started, and I do not wish to burden you with something that is my problem. Which is why I’ve kept it quiet for so long, and I. You will understand why I cannot accept when I’ve told you. But. I... I love you, Aemond.” She takes a deep breath. “I understand completely if this changes your estima- mhhhpphhh.”

Aemond cuts short Elayna’s rambling when he lunges forward and kisses her. His hands find the back of her head, fingers digging into her messy curls. The kiss is all consuming and passionate, and Elayna has no choice but to melt into it. Her fingers find his riding coat and dig into the leather. When he goes to pull back, Elayna chases her lips with his. Aemond lets out a low laugh.

“Is that the pressing matter?” His lips twitch.

Elayna looks at him. “You knew.”

“Perhaps.”

“When did you...?”

“You jumped in front of my sister to save me.” Aemond’s tone is dry yet somehow teasing. “That was my first clue.” Elayna feels her face turn red. She squirms in his hold, more for show than anything else. Aemond’s arms tighten around her.

“What was I supposed to do? Let the King die? No one else was moving.” She huffs. Aemond lets out a low and rare laugh. The noise almost seems to soothe part of Elayna’s soul. She lets herself mostly relax into her hold.

“Aemond.” She looks at him. “I know. I know the answer, but I must ask for my peace of mind. Do you... do you love me?”

“Always.” He kisses her again. 

This time, Elayna expects it. He starts soft, but it isn’t long before he kisses her as if he wants to consume her. Elayna’s fingers find his hair. She tugs experimentally. Aemond lets out a noise from deep within his chest. He presses her back, back towards the table, without removing his lips from hers. Instinctively, when her ass hits the table, Elayna jumps up. Aemond catches her and eases her up onto the surface. When they part, Elayna sees Aemond’s lips are slightly red and swollen. Hers no doubt look the same.

“Is this what you meant, by saying you would have everything you wanted by sunrise?” Elayna toys with the lapel of his coat. She wants so desperately to work the buttons of his shirt open but knows she can’t. Not because it would be a step too far but because if she did, she would not be able to help herself. Aemond hums.

“Almost.” A wicked gleam lights his eye. He drops his head to nose at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. He almost seems as if he’s going to kiss her pulsepoint but decides better. “To truly have everything I ever wanted, I would marry you before the sun rises.”

“Aemond! You can’t talk like that.” She knows her tone should be more shocked, but she can’t help the arousal and slight desperation seeping into it. His words light a flame within her, one simmering in her veins.

“I’m King. I can talk how I please.” Before Elayna can respond, Aemond speaks again. His tone drips with honey. “Especially when the future Queen does not seem to truly mind.”

Fuck. Elayna’s legs fall apart, and Aemond neatly slots himself between them. The fabric of her dress makes it so he can’t press fully against her. 

“You cannot talk like that because if you do...” She gasps, losing her train of thought for a second when she feels his lips against her skin.“If you do, we won’t make it to our wedding night.”

“Hmmm.” Aemond breathes in. He’s taking in her scent, she realizes. “You smell like candle smoke.” The words seem hazy as they fall off his tongue. Perhaps he didn’t mean to say them.

“And you smell like dragon. And blood. This is serious.” Elayna pushes at his shoulders. Aemond raises his head. His eye is blown with lust, but she can see reason in his expression. “There will be questions about my being Hand. If it were to come out you asked me to be Queen the same night?” Elayna raises an eyebrow. “From a purely practical standpoint, we cannot.”

Aemond lets out a low ‘hmmm’. No doubt he isn’t pleased; the way he pinches his lips together says as much. However, she knows reason has gotten through to him.

“We cannot.” She reiterates. Elayna brings her hand up to the left side of his face. “I assure you, I want this as much as you. If I thought we could get away with it, I would push you down and ride you on this very table. But there is no way we can.”

Elayna doesn’t miss the way Aemond’s breath catches in his throat at her words.

“We get people used to the idea of me being Hand.” She runs her thumb along his cheek. Aemond nearly lets his eye flutter closed. “Then we can introduce the idea of me being Queen.”

Aemond exhales. His jaw tightens, but he nods. A sly look crosses his face after a minute.

“For my peace of mind-” He begins. Elayna leans in to kiss him.

“Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”