#edit: i have been exhausted these past few days

[oshaskell]

just two tall dudes and the short spitfire divorcee loves of their lives <3

[navybrat817]

Double Shift

Pairing: Chop Shop Mechanic!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky helps you unwind after you work a double shift.

Word Count: Over 1.8k

Warnings: Established relationship, slight insecurities, bit of backstory, dirty talk, mild smut, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: @nixakimbo was kind enough to gift me with this GORGEOUS edit and I had to create a new AU. Sorry, lovelies? @tavners , this is for you. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You dropped your bag the moment you walked through the door. Your feet ached despite the comfortable shoes, and your head throbbed with each passing second. Groaning, you dragged yourself to the couch, collapsing into it like it was the only place you’d ever wanted to be. Working doubles was exhausting, but this? This was something else entirely.

It was a long day in a series of long days, but now you had a chance to relax.

Reaching for the nearby pillow, you inhaled deeply, a smile tugging at your lips. Instead of the usual fresh scent of your couch, you caught the familiar, warm fragrance of your boyfriend’s cologne. He must have spritzed it before leaving for work. It was like leaning into him and your shoulder relaxed more, even though you wished he were really there.

The sound of the door creaking open a few minutes later told you that your wish had been granted.

“Aww. Long day, baby?” Bucky cooed from the doorway, spotting you sprawled out with no intention of moving to greet him. “You know your bag’s on the ground?”

“Mm-hmm.” You rubbed your temples slowly. “You know I worked a double, right? I’m lucky I made it to the couch.”

His soft chuckle reached your ears as he set his keys down and picked up your bag. “I know and I’m sorry. You work really hard.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead once he reached the couch. “I wish you didn't have to.”

You turned your head, the throbbing in your temples easing when your eyes met his. His black tank top fit him perfectly, complementing the tattoos that stretched across his neck and arms. The skulls and flowers, symbols of death and hope, told stories of his past. Stories he didn't have to tell you about, but he did anyway and you were happy to know every detail. As captivating as the ink was, it was his blue eyes that held you. In them, you saw your future, bright and full of love.

“That’s life. And you work hard, too,” you reminded him.

“Yeah. My job is so honorable,” he mumbled, making a mess of his hair as he ran a hand through it. “I’m really making a difference in the world.”

You frowned sympathetically. Bucky was a gifted mechanic, but his family was dealt a bad hand and he did what he had to do to take care of his younger sister. “And you’ll be out of there soon.”

Once he finished paying off Becca's medical bills, he could quit. That day was getting closer and closer. And one day he’d open his own shop, too, a legitimate shop. You wanted to stand beside him when that dream came true. Becca would be so proud.

Both of you wanted the best for Bucky.

He sighed, sinking to his knees and resting his hands on your thighs. You could see the gray peppering his scruff and you couldn’t help but reach out to run your nails through it. The sound of his groan made you smile, so you did it again.

“I just wanna give you the world,” he whispered, turning his head and kissing your palm. “You know that, right?”

“You already do,” you whispered back, his eyes softening. You had a roof over your head, food in your stomach, and his love in your heart. It was all you needed. “But you know, I could-”

Bucky put a finger to your lips to stop you. “I know what you're going to say and we’re not selling your dad's car.”

You smiled sadly. Your dad’s car was a classic and could get Bucky the money he needed, but he turned the offer down each time you brought it up. He didn't want you to give up one of the only things you had left of your dad. “I won't say a word tonight.”

But you could try again tomorrow.

“Thank you.” He took your hand and kissed your palm again. “You up for a ride later?”

“I don’t think I’m moving from this spot tonight,” you half smiled. “But we can tomorrow.”

“You don’t wanna go for a ride tonight?” he asked, surprise laced in his voice. You usually jumped at the chance to ride his motorcycle with him.

“Feet and head hurt a little,” you admitted, touching his cheek as concern etched his features. “I’m fine, really. Nothing for you to make a fuss about, but I won't turn you down if you want to dote on me.”

“Baby,” he sighed, slipping your shoes off. You gasped when he began massaging the sole of your right foot, the gentle pressure making your body sink deeper into the couch. By the time he switched to your left foot, you were practically melting. “That better?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, combing your fingers through his dark hair. He always took care of you. “I swear, you have magic hands.”

“Oh, I have more than magic hands,” he winked, your heart skipping a beat. “And you know what’s good for headaches?”

“Bucky…” you smiled. There was a warning in your voice, but you couldn't help the amusement in your eyes.

“Yes, me,” he grinned. “I’m very good at helping with headaches and you know it.”

Your smile widened. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, so making you come all over my face before I cook you dinner was not what you meant and will not help your headache?” he asked, his voice deep, dripping with desire.

Whatever ache you felt in your body all went straight to your pussy. A deep, throbbing ache that cried out for him to soothe it since he was the cause. “Is making melt on your tongue as my reward for working a double?”

He smirked at your breathy tone. “That’s exactly what it is.” He didn’t need to ask you to lift your hips when he reached for the waistband of your pants and pulled them off with your underwear. Your body moved on instinct for him, fluid and in sync. “I can feed you right here and carry you to bed, too.”

“I’m too big and heavy for you to carry me,” you teased. His eyes flashed, and before you could react, he leaned down unexpectedly, sinking his teeth into your thigh. Your mouth fell open from the sting, but it felt good, too. “Hey!” You shrieked.

“You’re not big. You’re not heavy. You’re perfect,” he snarled, brushing his tongue along the teeth marks. You wanted his mark all over you. “I’ll blame that remark on how tired you are right now from work.”

Framing his face to lift his head, you met his lips in a soft kiss, hoping to convey how much it meant to you that he saw you as beautiful. How touched you were that he always put your care and feelings first. As scary as he looked to others, you knew the man inside. The one with a heart full of passion.

“I’m not perfect,” you whispered against his lips, gasping when he nibbled your bottom lip. A second bite for once again downplaying yourself. “But I’m perfect for you.”

“You think so?” he asked quietly.

“I know so,” you said, biting his bottom lip for good measure.

He thought you were too good for him some days, and you were quick to shut that down. A good man wouldn’t have taken care of his sister the way he did, and he wouldn’t love you wholeheartedly if he was less of a good person than you. His current profession didn’t define him, and you refused to let him believe it did.

“I...” He kissed the corner of your mouth. “Love...” You shivered when he kissed the other corner. “You.”

A flame lit within your heart. His tender touches and words burned you from the inside out. “I love you, too,” you managed to whisper before his lips covered yours again.

Fresh arousal washed over you when he smiled and kissed down your body. “Now let me show you with my mouth how much I love you,” he simpered, parting your legs to open for him. “Might die if I don’t get my mouth on you and you wouldn’t want that, would you? And we need to get rid of your headache.”

You moaned, also feeling like you’d die if he didn’t touch you. “Do I get your cock, too? It’s a pretty bad headache you need to help me get rid of,” you teased. If your pain actually persisted, he’d make you take something and insist on you resting. And maybe it was selfish to ask for more than one orgasm, but you both knew he wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to rock your world.

“Before and after dinner,” he promised, his pupils dialting as he stared between your trembling thighs. “Fuck, I missed you today,” he groaned.

“Missed me or my pussy?” you asked, certain that you were going to soak the cushion beneath you and you didn’t care as long as he got you off. “Because we both missed you.”

He smirked, his hand inching up your thigh. “Of course, you missed me. Who else would make you come as hard as I do?”

Cocky was a good look on him, but you could play a little, too. “Well…” Your coy smile had him raising his eyebrow. “If you really want to know, there’s-” You threw your head back with a cry as Bucky’s head dipped down to taste you, effectively cutting off your teasing.

It wouldn’t take long for you to coat his fingers and tongue with your release. It never did with him. He’d make you taste yourself when he kissed you after so you could fully appreciate the orgasm he gave you. He wouldn’t give you any reprieve when he’d bend you over the couch and sink his cock into your sensitive pussy. Your sounds would be erotic music to his ears, just like his words were music to yours.

“Grind that pussy back against me. Show me how much you crave my cock.”

“Such a good girl for me. Such a good pussy for me to fuck and fill.”

“Don’t you dare rub your clit. You wanna come? I’ll make you come.”

“Oh, you don’t have to beg for me to come inside you. I’ll give it to you.”

You’d scream his name in ecstasy and pass out in his arms from the best kind of exhaustion. You’d wake up to him kissing your forehead and holding you upright so he could hand feed you a delicious meal. You’d smile when he told you how much he loved you and that he'd be free of the chop shop soon. And you’d tell him you loved him, too, before he fucked you all over again.

It was going to be a good night.

Appreciate you lovelies indulging me like always and hope to share more when I can. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[yourdearestlover]

Dearest, lovers

Hello Tumblr World! I am that creator who has been working on Nicola & Luke Press Documentary for the past few weeks.

To tell you the truth, those weeks have been quite exhausting. I had to combine my job and private life to be able to work on, as how my followers had called it, N&L Press Doc. BUT! Enough about me, let's talk about the project.

For the whole plan to make sense, I had to collect material; starting from London and ending it on Ireland, that included over seventeen Google Doc pages of interviews from various social media platforms. In the meantime, I was posting surveys on X regarding certain details, because I wanted people to have a chance to choose. The most time-consuming task was searching for a good quality videos and photos, downloading needed files, neatening them into correct order, to then montaging into 4 parts. Several interviews were edited by me, splitted, resized, which only made the steps to finish line take longer than I had initially expected. Entire process from making decision to actually starting "new project", to rendering each part took about a month. With that being said, I was happy to finally announce the release date.

So here they are! PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART FOUR

From here, I'd like to say BIG thank you for those who were with me the entire time, for those who helped me out with gathering the materials on X / TikTok, for those close to my heart that cheered me up, when things weren't going my way. And most importantly, but not least, thank you for each comment, each like and each viewing. I've spend days on this project, I've put my heart into it. And I'd love you guys to enjoy it, as much as I did, while making it.

I'd want to clarify one more thing. This documentary was put together to express my love towards both Nicola and Luke, to be able to give the fandom a space to reminisce the tour, to fill up the small puzzle of missing them. Absolutely NO negativity will be allowed. Yours truly,

Em <3

[cupidbedsy]

𝘁𝗶𝗿𝗲𝗱 ; 𝘭𝘩43 ୨୧

➪ summary: luke is all but tired when him and jack arrive home from a game, but luckily for him, y/n's there to help

➪ warnings: the one rags v. devils game where everyone decided to fight, tired luke. broken plate, luke thinking reader and jack is mad at him, hate comments, jack thinking he's a shitty big brother

➪ word count: 1.8k

➪ file type: fic - reupload

➪ sunny's notes: literally crying because i decided to edit this, negative feelings, and chicken noodle soup all in a row. i chose violence, be glad i'm not uploading them three days in a row. this was rough. but no i actually like how this fic turned out so yeah

© sunflower-lilac42 ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

© cupidbedsy ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

lh43 masterlist || nhl masterlist || taglist || navigation

She had let herself into their apartment halfway through the second period. She had been watching from her dorm and when the first fight broke out, two seconds into the game, she knew the team was in for a wild night. As the game went on and they showed the bench and the players, she knew both her boyfriend and his brother were tired. 

That’s when she made the executive decision to “break in” to their apartment and make them dinner. She was grateful that their fridge was fully stocked and she didn’t have to run back out to the grocery store. She got to work quickly, making something easy but also filling for both of them. While spaghetti and meatballs weren’t any of their favorite meals, not that she was hungry anyway, she knew they would appreciate the effort nonetheless. 

When the game was over she sighed at the final score, after what they had been through tonight, they deserved the win. Worried about Luke and being one of only four defensemen on the ice, she looked to see how much time he was actually on the ice and was appalled when it read 32:49. She knew he had been tired these past few weeks, this team felt like it was on a never-ending cycle of bad luck. 

She was setting the plates down moments before they walked in the door, but when she was in the bathroom, that’s when she heard them. She heard the clatter of keys and shoes and walked out immediately. Luke was attempting to stand upright, slightly leaning on his older brother. Jack looked equally tired, attempting to support both him and Luke. 

She frowned as she made her way over to them, lightly grabbing onto Luke to lessen the weight on Jack’s body. He sighed in relief as he kicked his shoes off and made his way to sit down on the couch. Y/n stayed with Luke in the kitchen, walking him over to one of the chairs. With one hand she reached for his head and took the beanie he had been wearing off, using her other one to run her fingers through his damp curls. 

“Why don’t you go take a shower, both of you,” Jack whined from the couch while Luke just buried his head into her shoulder.

She felt like she could cry from the exhaustion they were displaying. She knew how they got, both of them. She had been dating Luke since their freshman year of high school. She knew the ins and outs of all three Hughes brothers if she was honest, never finding it weird or alarming. His family loved her, that she knew, but when Jack came home drunk one night and threw up on her shoes, she accepted her role in the family.

“Jack you first, come on.”

She continued running a hand through her boyfriend’s curls as she gazed at the older boy on the couch. He finally sat up, giving her an annoyed look, but she only rolled her eyes and pointed to the bathroom. She could keep Luke occupied for another 20 minutes, “Hi baby.”

Luke’s eyes were closed as his head laid on her shoulder, he mumbled something incoherently and he just sighed. She untangled her fingers from his hair and started to pull off his jacket, he whined at the loss of contact but allowed her to continue her actions. She took his jacket to his room and hung it up before walking back into the kitchen and checking on the pasta. 

Luke, despite being tired and his body being worn, he got up and made his way over to her in order to wrap his arms around her waist and dig his head into the crook of her neck, inhaling her fading scent. She smiled slightly, removing her one hand from the side of the pan to place on top of Luke’s, continuing to stir with the other. 

It was silent up until Jack came back, who plopped onto the chair his brother had previously sat in. She looked over at him and smiled, “Do you guys want to eat in the kitchen or in the living room? We could put a movie on?”

The two nodded and made their way over to the living room as she finished plating the food and bringing it over to them, placing the plates into their laps. They each let out simultaneous soft thank yous before eating. They chose a random movie and watched it as y/n cleaned the kitchen and finished doing some laundry that had been pushed to the side.  

She felt bad for both of them, both for different reasons but some the same. Mostly because of how the team was performing this year, the way that they couldn’t keep everyone off injured reserve. Yet, for Luke, it felt different. She felt more or less worried about him than bad for him. He had expectations to live up to, people to live up to, and she knew his mind all too well. She knew what he was thinking, that he wasn’t good enough.

And it wasn’t just him that thought that. They both knew about the tweets that were in response to people's comments under articles, the articles themselves about how Luke wasn’t as good as his brothers, wasn’t as good as he should be, wasn’t as good as people made him out to be. It was what Luke thought about the most.

There was clanging from the living room and then a crash. She immediately made her way out of the bedroom and looked in between Jack, who was still on the couch, the shattered plate on the floor, and Luke, who was standing in the hallway. His face looked conflicted but it morphed into one of fear and sadness. 

“Hey, hey, what happened?”

“I-” Luke couldn’t bring himself to talk, both terrified and still exhausted from the game. 

On the other hand, y/n’s face was calm and Jack’s face was sad with a hint of anger in his eyes. Anger towards John and Kevin for leaving the team with four defensemen, anger towards Travis for making Luke play that long, anger towards himself for not checking in on his brother enough, and anger towards the Rangers. 

“Luke, it’s okay. No one’s mad at you for dropping the plate.” Jack’s voice was soft as he stood up, slightly wobbling from his lack of balance. 

The younger boy only shook his head, reaching a hand out to lean against the wall. Y/n moved forward and wrapped her arms around Luke who then slowly sank to the ground. Her left hand was placed against his head, keeping it against her chest as her right arm wrapped around him. Luke started crying, soft sobs escaping his mouth.

She looked at Jack who took the hint to walk back into his bedroom. As soon as he left, Luke voiced his thoughts, “I’m tired. I’m so tired, y/n.”

The way his voice broke almost made her choke on a sob. She bit her lip to keep her tears at bay, refusing to let Luke know how she was feeling right now. She tangled her fingers in his hair, Luke allowing the movement to calm him down a little. His harsh sobs turned into soft sniffles in a matter of minutes. She was the only one who could soothe him like this besides his mom.

Lifting his head, he dug it back into the crook of her neck. She kissed his head and continued to run her fingers through his curls like she had done earlier, using her other hand to rub circles on his back. Ten minutes had passed and she looked over at the shattered glass a few feet away from her. Her legs had started to cramp from being in the position for so long and the added weight of Luke on them made it a little worse.

“How about you go take a shower while I clean the plate, okay?”

He pulled away from her and nodded his head slightly. She aided him in standing up and watched as he made his way to the bathroom to shower. Once the door closed, she made quick work of cleaning up the mess. After she was done, she went over and knocked on Jack’s bedroom door, “Hey.”

Jack snapped his head up in surprise, “Hi.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” 

“Jack, I’ve known you for 7 years. What’s wrong?” She sat on the edge of his bed, her hands underneath her. 

“I feel bad. I mean I was so excited for Luke to come to play with me but for some reason, I feel guilty. I don’t know. It just feels like I should do more for him. I didn’t want to bring up the comments, I see them too, you know.”

Her heart warmed at the words, at Jack being so worried about his little brother. She smiled a little before looking at him, “He loves you, Jack. More than you know. I cannot tell you the number of times he calls me and is like ‘Jack this’ and ‘Jack that’. You and Quinn are his idols, it’s hard to not notice that. He is so appreciative of you. And he knows there is nothing you can do about the comments that people make, it’s not your fault.”

Jack teared up a little but smiled at her, “Thank you.”

“Of course. Now come on, give me a hug.”

Jack leaned over from his spot on the bed and hugged her, “Can I say I love you or is that too weird?” 

“Considering, I am betting on you becoming my sister-in-law, it’s not weird. I love you too, y/n/n.”

She heard a door close from down the hall and she pulled away and waved goodbye to Jack, making her way to her boyfriend’s room. When she walked in, Luke was lying on his bed, cuddling a pillow on his phone. She smiled at him and walked over to sit down, “Hi baby.”

He looked up at her and for the first time that night, he smiled. He reached out for her and she made herself comfortable on the bed, Luke wrapping his arms around her. In that moment, Luke was so grateful for her and all that she had done for him not only tonight but in the past seven years. She had been there for him through everything and that meant the absolute world to him. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Luke. And I am so so so so proud of you for tonight.”

His smile was small but genuine, “Now go to bed.” 

She kissed his forehead and the two wasted no time in falling asleep.

𝗡𝗘𝗪 𝗝𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗘𝗬 𝗗𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗟𝗦 𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 ୨୧

@blakesbearsblog @toasttt11 @chiblackhawks @prettyjoseph @nicole01-23 @auriesphantom @pucks-goals-penalties @dancerbailey3 @quinnylouhughesx43 @petite-potato4 @thehuggybearslover @absolutelyhugh3s @kei943 @dyslecticdutchman

© cupidbedsy ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

[miley1442111]

the problem with arguing

a/n: Hi, this is my first story, any constructive criticism is welcomed. This had not been properly edited nor read through because icba lmao :) also I wrote it for a fem!reader but I don't think there's much mention other than Jack calling reader 'mom' so... yeah :)

pairings: aaron hotchner x reader, platonic BAUteam x reader, motherly(If that's a word?)reader x teen!jack hotchner

summary: aaron and you are in a fight, but what happens when a meeting with a witness goes south?

warnings: criminal minds levels of violence, angst, fluff, couple fighting, reader in distress, reader getting injured, mentions of knives, mentions of being stabbed, mentions of being tied up, mentions of hospitals, mentions of killing, mentions of general injury, mentions of guns/shooting, minimal use of y/n.

1.6k + words.

���We’re here, we’ll update you if anything comes of it,” Morgan promises Hotch over the phone as we walk to the front porch of one of our witnesses. Something about his story is messed up and we were the unlucky ones who had to go talk to him. It’s a pretty house I guess, a little expensive for what a 26 year old man could afford, and what he would want to buy. It’s all fifties style, the entire estate is. Big-enough bungalows with pastel walls and inviting doors with a small porch, just enough for the entry-way and a chair. I knock on the door, exhausted from the past 72 hours. Aaron and I got in a fight before we got to Ohio, it was unnecessary, but we fought all the same. He was mad at me for giving Jack advice that led to a fight between them. I just wanted to kiss and make up 3 days ago but he won’t budge. Maybe it’s because he knows I’m right and doesn’t want to confront it or maybe it’s because I took it too far and overstepped. Jack calls me ‘mom’, I live with him, and Jack came to me for support, he wanted guidance and I gave him it. He was mad at his dad because he missed meeting his girlfriend. His girlfriend, Ava, was a lovely girl, I had been the one there when Jack brought her over for dinner, I was the one trying to suss out if they actually liked each other, and I was the one Jack sat down with for 2 hours after and told everything about her to. All because Aaron was too busy with paperwork in his study. Jack was hurt, which is difficult to do because he’s such an understanding 16 year-old boy. It was also hard because I saw both sides. I’ll be the first to admit that what Aaron did was wrong, but our job is hard and demanding, especially his since he’s the leader of our team… But Jack just wanted 2 hours of his time, not even, just a dinner. A dinner to meet his girlfriend, and Aaron still couldn’t make it. 

I knock again as I huff. 

“Everything alright?” Morgan asks, the regular playful glint in his eye. 

“Tired, mad, over this job. You?” I sigh. 

“Sounds about right,” He chuckles. “How’s Jack doing?” 

A smile spreads across my face. “He has a girlfriend,” Morgan’s face lights up in a smile. 

“My man,” He smirks and I chuckle. “You two met her yet?” 

My face drops again. “I have, Aaron… couldn’t make it to the dinner though. She’s lovely, perfect for Jack. It's so funny, it’s just opposites attract. Jack is so sporty and outspoken and she’s one of the quieter, more into her studies kind of person.” 

The door swings open and we’re met with David, our witness. 

“You two know what time it is?” He yawns. 

“Oh trust us, we know,” Morgan sighs. “Can we ask you a few more questions?” 

“It’s 10pm at night? Can’t this wait ‘till the morning?”

“It’ll only take a few minutes,” I reassure. 

He looks between us for a moment, then sighs. “Quickly.”

We walk inside and are immediately hit with an awful smell. I know that smell. That’s when I see it, a body.

And that’s when it all goes black. 

I wake up in a new room, tied to a chair. I don’t see Derrick anywhere. I don’t see David anywhere. I’m all alone in this grey room. I don’t see a door but I notice a camera, and a screen in front of me. I see Penelope on the screen, then a sign above it with “Don’t make noise” scribbled. I look to my left and see a plastic window, I see Morgan through it, tied up too. He sees me. 

“Y/n? Y/n?! Where are you?” Penelope squeals. I shake my head and she picks up her phone and tries calling mine, it rings and I feel something go into my side. I scream out in pain as I see the blood start trickling out of me. Penelope drops her phone, then picks it up, dialling someone else’s number. 

I get switched to a joint call with Penelope, and the rest of the team, excluding Aaron. 

“Y/n?” Spencer asks and I nod, sobbing in pain. Spencer runs off-screen, leaving Jj and Emily to stare in horror at me.

Spencer comes back with Aaron and we make eye-contact through the screen, and he starts breaking. He’s shouting orders at the policemen in the precinct, he’s shouting orders at the team, and he’s trying not to cry. I know that. I also know I’m the only one who knows that. He hides it pretty well but not from me, not after all of our years together. His eyes squint, his eyebrows furrow more than usual, he starts biting at the skin around his nails. 

“We’re coming to find you. We will find you,” he promises me. I nod slowly as the pain in my side becomes unbearable as the knife is pulled out. 

“Is Morgan with you?” Emily asks and I nod as I bite my lip until it bleeds to stop myself from making too much noise. 

“Is he in the room with you?” Spencer asks. 

I shake my head no. After what feels like an eternity of yes or no questions, they think they’ve located us.I hear banging on the door and then it opens. Spencer is standing there with an entire Swat team behind him. I shake my head to tell them to not make noise but they talk anyway and another knife is put into my leg, I don’t have the strength to stay quiet this time and another finds its way into my arm. I pass out. 

I wake up in a hospital bed, an IV in my arm, Aaron on one side and Jack on the other. Aaron’s asleep in a chair on my left, I grimace, knowing his back will hurt. 

“Mom?!” Jack exclaims as he sees me open my eyes. “Mom!” His eyes fill with tears as he gets up and wraps his arms around me on the bed. 

“Jack,” I sigh in relief. 

“You’re okay! You’re awake!” He smiles brightly, happy that I’m alive. 

Aaron wakes up from the commotion and rushes to my side. “Honey?” He takes my hand and squeezes. “You’re okay.”

I smile at both of them. 

“I’ll go get the doctor,” Jack smiles and he rushes off to find a doctor. 

“Honey I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have-” He starts but I cut him off. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he sighs, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Don’t go all soft now Aaron,” I joke. 

“You make me soft,” He smiles and presses a soft kiss to my cheek. 

Jack comes back in with a doctor. She tells me that I lost a lot of blood and that I will be out of the field for a few months, with 2 weeks of mandatory bedrest, then 4 weeks of physical therapy. 

The next day, the team come in to visit. 

“Hey,” Spencer smiles, walking in first. I’ve always been close to Spencer, he’s always felt like a little brother to me. 

“Hey,” I smile and wince when I hug him, but I know it’s worth it. The rest of the team filter in, smiles on their faces.“So what happened after I went out?”

“Well, they got me, no injuries apart from a concussion,” Morgan says. 

“We got the guy-” Emily starts.

“Aaron got the guy,” Spencer interrupts. “He saw him and just shot him-”

“And then he beat the crap out of him,” Jj says. “It was pretty intense.”

I nod along as they tell me the story, and then we just talk about whatever until Aaron comes in and says visiting hours are over. Spencer leaves me a few more books to read and Jj brings Jack to Ava’s house for the night. Aaron walks in with my dinner on a tray. 

“Hungry?” He smiles. 

“You shot someone for me?” I ask as he places my tray down.

“Yes.”

I roll my eyes and smile at him. “Is he alive?”

“No.” 

My face drops. “Oh.” 

“It was the combined bleeding and head trauma that killed him.”

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I did.” 

I look at my food. “I understand you wanted to protect me-”

“I did that because he doesn’t get to live after doing this to you. Honey, you and Jack are the most important people in my life and I would do anything if it meant that you were safe and sound. Do you want to know how it felt to have what could’ve been my last words to you be ‘stop bothering me’? I was an asshole to you over the Jack situation because I knew you were right. I knew it wasn’t fair to not go to dinner when I was in the house. I knew it was important and it just felt too real. It felt like he was growing up and I just couldn’t take it because I missed so much of his childhood! So I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry that I said everything I said and did what I did, but I am not sorry about hurting that fucking monster,” He takes a deep breath. “Now eat up, it’ll go cold.”

“I love you Aaron, it’s ok. It wasn’t your fault, being a parents is hard.” 

His eyes fill with tears and he looks at me like an injured puppy. 

“Come here,” I smile and move over, allowing room for him to sit with me. He climbs into bed beside me and wraps his arms around me, being careful of my wounds. 

“I love you,” he whispers as I slowly eat my food. 

“I love you too.”

[sh4wty18]

request for johnnie

pre-established relationship

reader is a content creator, is close friends with tara, carrington, jake and johnnie, and lives at the guys place with johnnie

reader slept in past their alarm, sleeping in johnnies bed

johnnie and carrington are doing an early morning stream while the reader comes down all groggy and johnnies just being sweet n making sure they slept well

“theres my sweet girl”

and carrington is just being carrington and making everyone on stream fawn and laugh over johnnie and the reader

sleepy.

pairing: johnnie guilbert x reader

summary: based on the request.

cw: fluff, mentions of slut-shaming

word count: 976 + edited

---

For the past year, you have been busier than ever. Your career had fully taken off over two years ago– you’re a popular youtuber and streamer. But ever since you and Johnnie had made your relationship public early last year, you were rising to a level of stardom you could barely comprehend. With your new relationship also came new friendships, and collaborating with Johnnie, Jake, Tara, and Carrington fairly often had no doubt helped in boosting your online presence. 

These past few months specifically, ever since you moved in with the guys, have been some of the most stressful yet rewarding months of your life. You were going viral, becoming one of the internet’s biggest “It Girls” along with Tara, but this new lifestyle came at a cost. Constant partying, filming, and promoting content is extremely exhausting. 

Thankfully, your boyfriend has been nothing but supportive. He’s always there to offer words of encouragement, physical affection, flowers… anything you want, really. Your relationship is stronger than ever, and you can’t imagine a better person to experience this life with. Whereas you were relatively new to the whole “internet fame” thing, Johnnie has been in this game for a decade, and knows better than most people how it feels to constantly be scrutinized online. He has been supporting you through every high– and low– of your drastic increase in fame, offering his praises when you were excited and a shoulder to cry on when you were sad. You loved him more than anyone, and you know the feeling couldn’t be more mutual. 

Last night had been a particularly rough night. You were streaming super late with Johnnie in your bedroom, and at one point, someone sent a message slut-shaming you for the outfits you wore, and calling you pretty much every name in the book. Stupid, ugly, unfunny, untalented… They covered all the bases. Usually you were pretty good at letting hate comments roll off your back, but that night you had already been feeling insecure, it was the reason you wanted to go live in the first place– to get some positive attention from your fans. So unsurprisingly, this hate comment was the thing to ruin your night.

You promptly ended the stream, and spent the next hour crying in Johnnie’s arms. He held you, gently stroking your hair, cradling your body against his, whispering affirmations, words of reassurance, and “i love you” into your ears until you finally fell asleep. 

He knew you needed to rest, which was why he didn’t wake you when you slept through your alarm this morning, he simply turned it off, and got up for the day.

You woke up a couple hours later, around noon, and noticed that Johnnie was no longer curled up next to you. You checked the time on your phone, and were shocked at how late you slept. Usually you were awake by ten, and got up to make breakfast for you and Johnnie (he usually sleeps later than you). But today, you were the one sleeping in. You slowly stretched and got out of bed. You heard Johnnie and Carrington laughing down the hall, surely streaming together in Carrington’s room, and you made your way there to say good morning.

You pushed Carrington’s door halfway open and popped your head in. Johnnie sat in Carrington’s gaming chair, laughing at something Carrington said from where he sat on the floor at Johnnie’s feet. 

You wave at Johnnie and groggily say “Morning, guys.”

Johnnie’s face lights up when he sees you, and he reaches his arms out toward you, indicating for you to come sit on his lap.

 “There’s my sweet girl,” he coos in his softest voice as you make your way across the room. Carrington is entertaining his viewers as you sit on Johnnie’s lap, resting on one of his legs and leaning back against his chest. He wraps both arms around your waist, perching his head on your shoulder and turning to face you, “How did you sleep, love?” he asks before kissing your shoulder.

“Really well,” you respond, still a little groggy. “Did you turn my alarm off this morning?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I thought you deserved a chance to sleep in. My beautiful girl needs her rest.” He smiles, and you lean in to press a kiss to his lips.

“Don’t apologize baby, I was just wondering,” You say.

“I’m happy you slept good, baby. You know you’re the prettiest girl in the world? Even when you’re still sleepy.” He presses his forehead against yours and smiles before kissing you again.

Carrington turns the camera toward you two, “Awwww look at these lovebirds!! They are just adorable!! Guys comment down below if Johnnie and y/n are your favorite celebrity couple! I know they’re my fave celeb couple, right guys?!” He leans closer to you both and angles the camera so all three of you are in frame. You and Johnnie blush and laugh, while Carrington continues teasing. 

You stay on Johnnie’s lap for the rest of the stream, adding sarcastic comments wherever you see fit, which always elicit a laugh from Johnnie. Carrington is in his own little world, never noticing that Johnnie can’t take his eyes off you. He keeps planting little kisses all along your shoulder and nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. He wasn’t usually one to be so PDA on a live stream, but he knew you had had a bad night, and he wanted to make sure your morning was so good you forgot all about the nasty comment from last night. 

You turn your head toward him, kissing his cheek and then his mouth before you smile softly at each other. You love and appreciate him so much, but you know you don’t need to say it. He understands. He always will.

---

the first of many of the johnnie request i've received! i'm so excited to write more johnnie fics, all your requests are so good :)

[veganpropaganda]

"A telling example of the impulse to project human stereotypes of disability onto other animals can be found in the story of Mozu, a snow monkey (a Japanese macaque) who was born in Japan’s central highlands. Mozu was born with abnormalities of her hands and feet thought to have resulted from pesticide pollution. Snow monkeys spend much of their time moving through trees, which allows them to avoid wading through the thick snow that covers the ground in the winter months. Mozu’s disabilities meant she was mostly unable to move through the branches; instead she traveled the nearly two miles that her troop covered every day in search of food by alternately walking on her abnormal limbs and crawling and sliding on the forest floor. When Mozu was born, researchers who had been watching this troop feared she would not make it past infancy. To their surprise, Mozu lived for nearly three decades, rearing five children of her own and becoming a prominent troop member.

In an episode of the program Nature featuring Mozu’s story, she is again and again referred to as “inspiring,” “suffering,” and a “very special monkey.” The dramatic music and voice-overs that describe Mozu’s struggle in vivid detail make it nearly impossible to watch her move across the snowy forest floor, a baby clinging to her belly and other monkeys flying by above her, without thinking, “Poor Mozu!”

At the same time, I am aware that the piece was edited to elicit this reaction. There are few shots in which Mozu is not struggling, and I question the effect the videographers had on her and the troop. In one scene her desperation seems to stem from being chased by the cameraperson. The music and voice-overs of course also add a sense of struggle to Mozu’s story.

Yet I have no doubt that life was hard for Mozu, and I find myself desperate to know what she thought of her situation. Was her instinct to reach for the trees unquenchable? Was she always in pain, exhausted, or fearful as she moved slowly across the forest floor? Did she wonder why she was different from her companions? I cannot help but wonder, although I realize how similar these thoughts are to the tiresome questions I have been asked again and again about my own life, my own disability. My desire for Mozu’s life not to be seen as one of suffering and struggle is also a projection, one that wishes disability empowerment onto my fellow primate. Our human perspective shapes how we interpret Mozu’s experience.

Many of our ideas about animals are formed by our assumption that only the “fittest” animals survive, which negates the value and even the naturalness of such experiences as vulnerability, weakness, and interdependence. When disabilities occur, we assume that “nature will run her course,” that the natural process for a disabled animal is to die, rendering living disabled animals not only aberrant but unnatural."

-- Sunaura Taylor, "Animal crips" in Disability and Animality: Crip perspectives in Critical Animal Studies.

[yuikomorii]

Ayayui date♡

// I'm not sure why, but I suddenly got a burst of creativity. There's no special occasion for this post; it was really just an excuse to edit Yui in my favorite Princess Collection outfit. I like how the merch line was released right on Ayato’s birthday, so I really wanted to see an Ayayui date in those outfits! 😌💕

I was in the mood to write a special scenario again. You just have to click on ‘Keep reading’ to find it. This one is set after the LE events, particularly after the After Story, so I hope you enjoy it! ( ˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵ )

Ayato: Haa… finally!

After all this time, I’ve managed to sort out every single problem in the Demon World.

Geez, I’m gladly taking a break!

( Ever since I became king, I’ve been buried in an endless pile of documents—so many that I’ve grown sick just being in that place. Things seem to be getting better in the Demon World, though I’d lie to say it’s perfectly stable. )

( Well, whatever. I shouldn’t bother too much about that… for now. )

( Right now, all I can think about is her. Ugh, these stupid king duties have kept us apart for way too long. I’m sure she must’ve felt really lonely, huh…? )

( Damn it! That was never my intention, but I know it must be boring as hell to be stuck in the castle all day by yourself. )

( That’s why, I’m definitely going to make it up to her today and take her somewhere nice~! )

Place: Their room

Ayato: Chi-chi-na-shi, guess who’s ba—

( Hah!? She’s not here? )

Oi, Yui!

( She’s still not answering? )

Yui, where are yo—

???: Ayato-kun..!

— hugs his back —

Ayato: What the—!

Yui: Fufu, sorry for taking you off guard. I was just thrilled to see Ayato-kun again!

Ayato: Geez, next time I call you, answer me, understood? You’re still in the Demon World, anything could happen when no one’s around, y’know?

Yui: Ah… I’m sorry for being careless. I hope I didn’t make you worry…

Ayato: No need to sulk now. What matters the most is that you’re alright.

Now… about the thing you’re wearing. Where the heck did you even get it from? It’s the first time I’ve seen you in it.

Yui: Oh, actually I bought it last time we went shopping together. You see… I didn’t show it to you back then because I wanted it to be a surprise, but uuh… does it not suit me?

Ayato: Haa… normally, when a woman wants to surprise her man, she wears lingerie or something sexy, but I’ll forgive you this time. Why? Because you look hella cute in that, can’t deny.

— Yui blushes —

Yui: Ayato-kun… thank you! I’m really happy…!

Ayato: ( Is she seriously almost on the verge of tears for that? )

C-C’mon, don’t get all emotional over every little thing. The date hasn’t even started yet! You really want people to see you with red eyes and puffy cheeks outside?

— Yui shakes head —

Ayato: Good, now let’s go!

— He takes her hand —

Place: Kaminashi City

Ayato: Can’t believe I’m gonna say this but I somehow missed this place.

Yui: Is that so? I thought Ayato-kun didn’t like the Human World.

Ayato: I don’t mind either of them, but right now I’m sick of the Demon World. If I see one more document, I will end up throwing up on the spot.

Yui: Ayato-kun…

( That’s right, he’s been working a lot ever since he became king. I’m sure it must truly be tiring spending days in front of all those documents. )

I’m glad you put a lot of effort in your role, but take it easy, okay? I can’t do much in this situation, yet… If you ever need help, I want to be there to support you!

Ayato: Hmm… anyway. I’m not here to talk about work again. I just want us to enjoy some time together for once.

Yui: ( Ayato-kun really sounds exhausted… He’s matured so much these past few months, which isn’t bad, but I just wish he could relax a little. )

Then, let’s make the best of this day!

— tugs onto his arm and starts walking —

*Timeskip*

Yui: Haa… it’s way better outside.

( Ayato-kun is still waiting to pay for our things, but it was way too hot in that store, so he told me to get some fresh air. )

( Now that I think about it, vampires are always cold, so I doubt the heat bothers him as much as it does me, right? Even so, seeing him care about my comfort makes me really happy. )

— warm breeze hits —

Yui: Mm… so ni—

— something suddenly hits her —

Yui: Kyah! What on earth was that!?

Eh? That’s—

Familiar: Greetings. Pardon my interruption, but could it be that you are Komori Yui-sama?

Yui: ( ‘Sama’? Uuh… I feel like that’s an exaggeration. )

Yes, I am. Did anything happen…?

Familiar: Rest assured, there is no need for alarm. My purpose here is simply to entrust this to your care. Unable to find Ayato-sama, I must rely on you to deliver him this letter.

— Yui takes it —

Yui: But, what’s this letter about?

If it’s possible to tell, of course.

Familiar: In essence, a new set of documents has been prepared for Ayato-sama. Please inform him at your earliest convenience, as his return is eagerly anticipated.

Yui: Wait! Does it mean that he really has to return now—!

( Oh no! The familiar is already gone! )

( To think that Ayato-kun was finally starting to relax again… )

( All this letter will do is ruin his day, that’s for sure. )

( But at the same time, not showing it to him… that would undoubtedly get him in troubles. )

( Uuh… This situation is so complicated. What should I do…? )

Ayato: Chichinashi!!!

Yui: ….!

— suddenly hides the letter —

A-Ah, Ayato-kun, you’re back!

Ayato: Duh, and I kept calling your name but it seems you only answer to Chi-chi-na-shi~.

— He starts pinching her cheeks —

Yui: Whey dwont, staphh!

Ayato: Hehe, that’s what you get for spacing out and ignoring me.

Anyway, you weren’t approached by any creeps, were you?

Yui: N-No, not at all!

Ayato: Hmm… that doesn’t sound too honest. Are you lying?

Yui: No way! I… I’m just hungry and my stomach won’t stop growling, which is really embarrassing…

Ayato: Haa… you never change. Always getting embarrassed over everything, but no worries, I didn’t hear anything. Though, if you’re really that hungry, I guess we could get something to eat.

Yui: Y-Yeah, that sounds great!

* Timeskip *

Yui: ( After the restaurant, we went to the mall, then back to the center. Ayato-kun… we walked a lot today, but instead of getting tired, he just got more and more energetic. )

( I suppose he was really in need of this break, so maybe hiding that letter wasn’t entirely bad, no…? Still, I’ll have to give it to him today, otherwise I’ll surely put him at risk… )

Ayato: Oi Yui, look!

Yui: W-Woah! I’ve never seen such big Takoyaki before!

Ayato: Heh, right? It’s even bigger than the ones from the Demon World!

Also, Ore-sama got you this, so I better see you eat it all.

Yui: Eh-? This is such a big donut! T-There’s no way I could eat all of it!

Ayato: So you’re refusing my donut? You’re way too ungrateful for a Chichinashi. Well, in that case, I guess you don’t need it any—

Yui: No, no, the donut is good!

— starts eating it —

Come to think of it, today you’ve spoiled me quite a lot, Ayato-kun.

Ayato: And why would that be bad? I thought women liked that.

Yui: It’s not bad, but I really didn’t do anything special. You’re the one who’s been working all day and night, for this reason I believe you deserve this treatment more.

Ayato: Haa… getting all self-conscious, just like always.

Look, you know I’m not good at sentimental shit, but after everything we’ve been through, your presence is special enough for me.

I guess I just want to cherish you, that’s all.

Yui: Ayato-kun… I feel the——

A-Ah, oh no!

( The chocolate… it melted on my hand! )

I-I’m sorry, I’ll be right back!

— tries to stand up —

Ayato: Nah, nah. C’mere.

— grabs her and sits her on his lap —

Yui: Wait, don’t!

— he starts licking her hand —

Yui: A-Ayato-kun, stop it! We’re in public…!

Ayato: Mnn… Mm…

— slowly bites —

Yui: Uuh…

( At this rate, people will definitely start watching!)

— starts moving —

Ayato: Tch, you’re making this way too hard for both! Just stay still and stop acting like I’m about to kill you!

Yui: ( I know his intentions aren’t bad, but this is getting too embarrassing…! )

( I’m sorry, Ayato-kun! )

— tries to push him away but falls down —

Yui: Oww…

Ayato: ( Geez, what a klutz. )

Haa… are you hurt?

— grabs her arm and picks her up —

Yui: Ah, I’m alright, no worries.

Ayato: Oi.

What’s that?

— picks something up —

Yui: ….!

Ayato: Is that… a letter for me?

— starts reading it —

You… you had it all this time with you and didn’t say a word?!

Yui: I… I can explain!

You see, I thought—

Ayato: Shut up!

Do you even have the slightest clue about what you just did!? I seriously doubt you understand how important king duties are, do you?

Hah, of course, you don’t! Why would you?

You sit around doing absolutely nothing all day while I’m working my ass off to make sure you and everyone else can live comfortably!

I’m out here putting in the effort, grinding to create a decent life, not just for you, but for everyone, even if I didn’t ask for this shit. And you do this to me!?

I thought you matured too, but at the end of the day, you’re nothing but a selfish bitch!

Yui: Wait! Ayato-ku—

Ayato: Don’t touch me!

Yui: …!

Please, listen to me!

— grabs his clothes —

Ayato: Quiet! I’m not risking to go through that again only because of someone like you. Get lost!

— pushes her away and leaves —

Yui: …!

No… No… this can’t be the end…

How… How could I be this stupid…? Hhn… Ngh…

Kuh… Ayato-kun.. Nhn…

Place: Avenue

Ayato: (Fuck! I can’t return to the Demon World right now. )

( On top of that, why the hell am I the one feeling guilty now!? )

( She… Yes, she deserved that treatment. That’s what she gets for sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. Besides, what she did could lead to something dangerous. )

( It’s not the first time she pulls such shit on me anyway, but… )

( Why can’t I stay mad at her no matter what she does to me…? )

Tch, such bullsh— Hah?

Guy 1: Aww, she’s playing hard to get~!

Guy 2: Aren’t you a bit too feisty for a crybaby?

???: S-Stop it! Leave me alone!

Ayato: …!

( That voice… Yui! )

Place: Alley

Yui: I-I told you to stop!

Guy 1: Just come with us, it’ll be fun~.

Yui: No, I don’t want to!

Guy 2: She keeps struggling, isn’t she cu——

— gets punched —

Guy 1: What the—

Guy 2: Such strength!

Yui: Eh?

Ayato: Get out of my sight, you bastards! If you don’t leave this girl alone right now, I’ll make sure your already disgusting faces get even worse!

— they start running away —

Yui: Ayato-kun… thank you!

( He came back for me… )

Ayato: ….

— grabs her hand and starts walking —

*Timeskip*

Yui: ( Ever since Ayato-kun saved me, he hasn’t spoken a word. )

( It’s obvious that he’s mad… )

( But if both of us keep quiet, this conflict will never be solved… )

Ayato & Yui simultaneously: I’m sorry.

Yui: ( Eh? Did he just— )

No… I’m the one who should apologize. I hid that letter, knowing full well the consequences it could have.

However… I only did it because I wanted Ayato-kun to have some free time for himself too.

Ayato: You…

Yui: I’m aware of how much work you have to do, and being king is definitely not easy. That’s why, I really admire your for that.

Nevertheless, it saddens me seeing Ayato-kun so stressed out and exhausted. I want Ayato-kun to be always as energetic and cheerful as he was today, but… I do realize that I’m just being selfish.

Ayato: No… You… You’re not selfish, I am.

I was the one who didn’t listen to your side of the story. It’s just... I’m afraid of failing as king. There, I said it!

I don’t want to put the people I care for in danger, nor can’t I accept being a worse king than that old fart, so all I have to do is carry out my duties. Hell yeah, they’re a pain in the ass but that’s my responsibility now, which is why I can’t back off.

Yui: ( Ayato-kun… I never thought you felt that way… )

N-no, the way you reacted was understandable. Anyone under that much stress might have done the same, and I can’t blame you for it.

Besides, I can’t say your words were wrong. I am indeed incapable of fully understanding the challenges you face, however… no matter what happens, I want you to know that you’ll always be the best king to me…!

Ayato: …!

Heh… you really never change.

— hugs her—

Yui: W-Well, I suppose I can’t change if I do nothing all day.

Ayato: Hmph, are you throwing shade at me for what I told you?

Yui: Eh? No way, it was just a coincidence! I swear!

Ayato: Pfft, proved my point. You'll forever stay the clumsy, stupid, and oddly adorable woman that you are.

Yui: Hey, that’s backhan— Mm…!

Ayato: Nn…

Yui: ( Ayato-kun… his kiss is so gentle… )

( I really missed Ayato-kun’s kisses. I’m so happy…! )

Ayato: Oi, don’t tell me you’re about to cry again.

Yui: I’m not but…

I just want to know, will the letter get Ayato-kun in troubles…?

Ayato: I might get some weird looks for not showing up on time, and maybe a lecture or two, but it shouldn’t be too bad. I was supposed to start on them today since there’s a lot, but... I think I’d rather spend my time with my girl instead.

Yui: Is that so? Thank you.

But doesn't that mean you'll have to work even harder to make up for today?

Ayato: I guess it can’t be helped. I don’t want to think of tomorrow, all I want is to focus on the present.

Yui: Fufu, I see. By the way…

Will you uhm… stay overnight too?

Ayato: Heh~? Is that supposed to be a sex invitation?

Yui: I… T-That’s—!

Ayato: Heh~, don’t even try to get out of it, it’s written all over your face.

Rest assured though, the invitation is accepted~.

— Smooch —

[platinumshawnn]

Bound by Blood and Fire | Benjicot Blackwood - pt vii

Synopsis: On the morning of the much-anticipated wedding, the feud between the Brackens and Blackwoods comes to a head, leaving everyone on edge. Benjicot’s first day as a husband sees him as the acting Lord of Raventree, as Samwell heads to the Redfork to confront the Brackens despite Benjicot's eagerness to go on his houses' behalf. Nonetheless, Serra and Benjicot celebrate a successful wedding.

masterlist | playlist | backwards | forward

A/N: hi sorry this is late, I wanted to make sure ch 7 was done as well as I could physically manage it but will probably come back and edit more later. also, sorry again if it’s a mess, I’ve been busy getting ready to move back to uni which depletes me of any last will to live every time <33 also peep the special edition banner lol

Content Warning(s): MDNI — 18+, adult language, mentions of blood, violence, and war; era related sexism and gender based harassment/discrimination, sexual content (i.e. m/f smut), mild depictions of family based violence, implied suicide ideation -- basically drama and porn idk

Word count: 17.5k

She did not like to describe them as nightmares — vivid and coming at her too fast it left her dizzy, but sometimes she did not know any other word for the dreams that kept her awake at night, plagued by images of her mother. Sleep had been a fleeting thing the past two nights, Serra’s head pounded and she felt nauseous that morning when she woke after a dream of her soft face, sad as she had cupped her daughter’s young face, only to be torn away by the Stranger in death — they had previously only happened every other moon, giving her a break at least. But they had been relentless as of late, never allowing her more than an hour of rest, leaving her aching for her mother to soothe her like a child when she woke. She had sobbed the first night after her kiss with Benjicot, just as she normally did. By the third night, she was drained and had no more tears left in her body to shed. 

She wanted to speak to Kermit about it, just as she always had, but he seemed to be avoiding her since that day in the yards — his face still ingrained in her memory, angry and disgusted as she knelt by Benjicot, tending to the wounds he had inflicted. It seemed Benjicot was too, as she hadn’t seen much of him since. 

The few times she saw him were only when it was necessary and he had no choice but to sit across from her at the table during breakfast and dinner, but he avoided her eye. The most she had gotten was a subtle shake of his head when she had stopped, seeing him training alone with a wooden doll in his usual spot; Ser Alistair at her side and dragging her away too, his eyes darting towards something above her — she assumed by the defeated expression, it was her eldest brother by the clench of his jaw. 

The room smelled of lavender, thick with the scent from the several bunches that had been brought in and placed strategically around the chamber as she was dressed in the meantime. Her eyes were closed as her handmaidens continued to flit around her like a group of nervous birds; busy with the last touches to her dress fixing the red and blue maiden cloak around her shoulders and fixing her hair — she swore she had felt fingers on her neck, startled by their cool touch as her necklace was twisted, a soft hum of hushed voices around her. 

Her head turned, whipping towards the sound of where a distant voice had come from, her eyes finding Grace, who looked at her with a concerned gaze, “My lady?” She asked. 

Serra froze, delirious with exhaustion she presumed as she let out a sharp exhale, turning to look away, “Sorry, I…” she stammered. “I thought you said something.” 

“I asked if you slept well last night,” Grace replied, touching her shoulder. 

“No,” she admitted. “Sleep has not come easy these past nights.” 

Grace smiled, small and sweet as she stepped in front of her — it was a weird thing to no longer have Orpheus at her feet, mulling over her, “Wedding day nerves?” She softly asked. 

She let out a short laugh, tired and strained, “I suppose so.” 

Her handmaiden looked down, smiling as she fixed her cloak’s clasp one last time, “You’ve nought to worry about, my lady.” 

“And why is that?” She asked, looking down at her. 

The girl shook her head, smiling, “I’ve seen the way Lord Benjicot looks at you.” She simply replied as though it was the most obvious thing. The words confused her because as far as she remembered, it was not — her mouth opened to reply, but she was silenced by the soft knock against her door.

She turned as it slowly crept open to reveal her father, who scanned the room with his eyes as he entered, slower than usual and visibly uncertain of his presence there. 

Serra was nothing less than radiant in her wedding gown, the deep red silk contrasting beautifully against her skin. Her auburn hair, a trait she had inherited from him, had been painstakingly woven into an elaborate braid, adorned with small, delicate pearls. But it was her eyes, so full of uncertainty and quiet resolve, that held his gaze.

“Father,” Serra said, her voice soft but steady. She inclined her head slightly, a gesture that made Elmo’s heart swell with both pride and sorrow.

“Serra,” Elmo replied, his voice more gruff than he intended. He cleared his throat, stepping forward to take her hands in his. “You are… you look every bit the lady I always knew you would become.”

Serra’s lips curved into a small, wistful smile. “Thank you, Father.”

There was a pause, a brief moment of silence where neither spoke. Elmo searched for the right words, something to ease the tension he knew she must be feeling, but he found himself at a loss. What could he say that would comfort her when he felt the sting of the day so acutely?

“I know this is not easy,” he finally managed, his voice low. “But you are strong, Serra. Stronger than you think. And this marriage… it will bring much-needed peace to the Riverlands. That is something to be proud of.”

Serra nodded, her eyes downcast for a moment before meeting his again. “I know, Father. I understand what this marriage means for our house, for all the houses of the Riverlands.”

Elmo squeezed her hands, then released them, stepping back slightly. “Are you ready?”

Serra hesitated, glancing toward the window where the ancient trees of the godswood could be seen in the distance, their black leaves whispering in the wind. She took a deep breath, then turned back to him with a more confident expression.

“Yes, I’m ready.”

Elmo smiled, a fleeting expression that quickly gave way to something more sombre. He extended his arm, and Serra took it, her grip firm and steady. The hallways were quiet, the only sound was the soft rustle of Serra’s gown against the stone floor as they descended the stairs and approached the entrance to the godswood, Elmo could feel the change in the air. The cool breeze carried with it the scent of earth and leaves, a reminder of the ancient roots that held Raventree Hall in its grasp.

When they reached the edge of the godswood where the two sons of Elmo Tully and Samwell waited along with Maester Edric, their eyes turned to watch as Lord Elmo Tully led his daughter forward. At the centre of it all stood Benjicot Blackwood, dressed in the dark colours of his house, his young face set in a mask of calm reserve.

Elmo felt Serra’s grip on his arm tighten as they approached Benjicot, and he gave her a reassuring pat. When they reached the heart tree, the weirwood’s blood-red leaves rustling above them, Elmo turned to face his daughter one last time.

“Who gives this bride?” Lord Samwell asked. 

“I, Lord Elmo Tully, of House Tully, give Serra Tully, my one and true daughter, to Benjicot Blackwood of House Blackwood in marriage.” 

Her hand shook as his arm slowly slid away from hers, fighting the urge to reach out for her father and drag him back to her side as he stepped back. She looked back at him, eyes wide and scared as he gave her an encouraging nod -- she looked straight ahead, facing the large weirwood tree that hung dead over them, Benjicot’s back still to her. She sucked in a deep breath and exhaled -- once, two, thrice before she slowly approached him, her feet sinking into the earth with each step. It was then that she noticed Benjicot’s head was lowered, bowed to the tree with his eyes closed as his hands remained clasped behind him -- she looked up at the Weirwood, its face staring back at her, horrifying and sobbing. 

“Do you, Serra Tully, take this man?” 

She hadn’t realised she had been standing there, in a daze and lost in thought until Lord Blackwood’s voice drew her back to reality. She looked down from the tree, looking at him and finding those familiar dark eyes that held such intensity, she had to force a breath inwards -- Benjicot’s head lifted, turning to look at her, “I take this man.” She echoed. 

There was a moment of silence, Benjicot’s hand emerging from underneath his cloak to extend to her and waiting expectantly for hers; steady and confident as she looked at it. She finally lifted hers, her right in his left, palms pressed together and fingers laced -- his touch felt searingly hot against hers as she was guided to a kneeled position, moving her cloak back with her free hand to prevent herself from getting tangled in it as she sunk to the ground. The ground beneath her was damp from the rain, soaking through the white dress that had been meticulously chosen for her. 

Benjicot’s head bowed again, lowered and looking towards the ground as he took a deep breath, closing them again. She watched him from the corner of her eye, swallowing thickly before she mirrored his actions and lowered her head, her eyes however open and fixed on her lap. She could hear Samwell’s voice from the day prior still, explaining the ceremony to her step-by-step so she didn’t make a fool of herself, the breeze the only noise that passed through them. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling as Samwell gently laid a hand against the crown of her head for a moment, along with that of Benjicot’s, withdrawing after a moment. She did not know what prayer to offer at that moment, her thoughts still racing as she tried to slow her breathing -- she could only imagine what Benjicot’s only silent plea was as she fought for a word of prayer to come to her. 

Mother above, guide my heart and his in this union. Bless us with love, patience, and understanding, that we may grow together in harmony and strength. Grant me the wisdom to be a worthy partner to him, and the courage to face whatever trials may come. May our bond be as unbreakable as the vows we speak today, and may we find joy in each other’s company, now and always. I ask this humbly, with hope and faith in the path before us.

The silence lasted too long for her comfort as she finished her prayer, peering towards Benjicot again in her peripheral vision. His head rose after a moment, not daring to look at her yet as he opened his eyes, looking up at the tree -- he seemed to feel her stare on him as his head turned slightly, just enough to catch her eye and subtly raise an eyebrow at her. His eyes darted up as a way to gesture to her to stand before he slowly pushed up from his knees, Serra fumbling to follow him to her feet — his hand steadied her, still holding hers as she clutched her dress with her free hand. 

He released her hand as they stood, turning to face one another. Benjicot’s hands lifted to her chest, his knuckles brushing her skin as he unfastened the clasp of her cloak; her eyes fixed on his face and watching the look of concentration that etched itself into his features -- his movements were cautious, careful not to damage it as he unclipped it and slowly slid the cloak from her shoulders, finding her eyes as he pulled it towards him. He looked away, holding the cloak out to her father who stepped forward to gather it, turning to look at her again. Samwell held out a cloak that resembled Benjicot’s, large and of their house colours — it was daunting to look at, unsure if it would fit her or leave her swimming in its fabric as Benjicot lifted it, holding it in front of her and shaking out the fabric — he swung the fabric up and around her, letting the cloak rest against her spine and enveloping her shoulders. The cloak was heavier than her own, a thick wool that would keep her warm amidst the rainy weather, rough against her fingers as she fisted it; her head lowered. She avoided his eyes as he fastened the cloak around her shoulders — his hand nudged her chin as he withdrew, encouraging her to look up at him again. 

A gentle breeze blew through the Godswood, the silence filled by the distant sounds of ravens that seemed to constantly hover over the estate, his hands moving to cup her face — his hands were hot against her cheeks, gentle in handling her and holding her gaze. Her attention was drawn to the freckle on his forehead, down to the scar on his nose, his mouth that lingered close to hers but not yet touching, igniting reminders of the memory of his kiss in her room days earlier; though there was a restraint that was not there the time before, hesitating. 

Benjicot leaned forward finally to close the gap, her eyes fluttering shut as his mouth found hers in a kiss that was slow and sweet; tame in comparison to the ones she had the memory of, exploratory and shy as his lips melded into hers. A warmth spread throughout her chest and limbs until it radiated to her fingertips, her heart rate increasing with nervous excitement as she instinctively reached up to touch his cheek. 

Serra withdrew when she felt a trickle of rain land against her brow, her head tilting to look upwards towards the grey skies, covered in thick, full clouds that threatened to downpour -- Benjicot’s eyes followed hers for a moment, scanning the sky before he looked down at her again. When she looked back at him, she was met by a shocking tenderness that she didn’t recognise in him, his mouth pressing into a small, lopsided smile. 

His eyes briefly darted towards where his father stood in front of them, looking to his wife then. She let out a startled yelp as he moved forward, sweeping her off her feet by hoisting her over his shoulder; her hips pressed against him, knocking the wind from her lungs for a moment as her right hand flung out towards his back -- she felt him sway as he adjusted his stance, bouncing her slightly over him so he could adjust her positioning as well, her eyes stuck on his heels. 

She heard a low snort, quiet and unable to source who it belonged to as the ground beneath them moved; swaying with each step he took towards the house. Her father reached out to touch her shoulder as they passed, Benjicot’s body shaking with a laugh as her father uttered a soft, “Don’t drop her please.” 

Serra was terrified to move or squirm as he walked, his cloak clutched tight in her hands as if somehow that would help break her fall if she slipped off; struggling to breathe with his shoulder pressed into her stomach. She watched as his feet led them inside, the dirt path covered in a layer of leaves that crunched under every step, the rain beginning to pick up -- the men who had joined them in the Godswood followed in silence behind them, her head briefly lifting to find her brothers, her father, and Samwell in tow. The doors were opened for them as they returned inside the grand halls of Raventree, the halls lit and lined with guards and staff who waited for their arrival -- she counted the pairs of feet as they passed, her eyes lifting every so often to catch the odd look of subtle amusement from a young guard or the giddy smile of a handmaiden as he carried her towards the hall. 

They arrived to open doors, the room already lined and filled with several men and women from the Riverlands; other highborn noble couples, lords, and their children. It was only then did she feel him crouch and let her down, her feet making contact with the floor as he slowly placed her down. She stumbled back a step, red-faced and flustered as she quickly fixed her dress, steadied by a hand of his around her elbow and looking ever so proud of himself as he grinned at her -- she let out a breathy laugh, wide-eyed. A sudden chorus of applause erupted within the room, her head whipping around to face the room that welcomed them, lit and basking in the warm glow of the lighting of the ornate chandelier that hung over the rows of tables; Benjicot’s hand finding her back and sliding up her spine as he moved to stand beside her. 

Serra could not remember what it was like to attend a wedding under the old gods -- the few she had attended had been in her childhood, whilst most of the ones she attended in her life were of cousins and relatives who followed the Seven -- but it stunned her how extravagant and beautiful the tradition was, the familiar house colours of burgundy, silver and grey lining the walls; the streamers and banners of their sigil reaching every corner of the space. The tables were lined by gold silverware and utensils, the smell of wine and food wafting towards her and overwhelming her senses as she blindly found his free hand and held it. 

“I hope it is all to your liking,” He quietly said, leaning into her side. 

She admired the candlelit room, the faintest hint of the dwindling sunset casting in through the window that overlooked the hall; the familiar symbol of House Blackwood over the head table at the front of the room, “And more.” She replied, eyes sweeping over the crowd once more. She looked up at him with big, doe-like eyes and smiled wide, his expression softening with a look of adoration. 

“Good.” 

Serra was startled by the sudden announcement as Samwell joined them, his voice loud and carrying to every corner as Benjicot guided her forward and in the direction of the head table that awaited them;

“Presenting Benjicot Blackwood, heir to Raventree Hall and scion of House Blackwood, and his bride, the Lady Serra Blackwood, daughter of House Tully. Let all bear witness to this union, a bond forged in honour and sealed in love, uniting the ancient houses of Blackwood and Tully!” 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Benjicot was never much of a dancer. 

He did not particularly enjoy it, although he knew a few basic dances as had been expected of him; it was not something he ever found himself eager to do so willingly. In fact, in his twenty years and as a man, he had only found himself on the dancefloor if it was by his father’s order and he had no other choice — he lacked the grace for it, all long limbs and clumsy as he had to think hard about every step. 

It was an embarrassment, he assumed, for a highborn man to not know much beyond basic steps — but even as a boy, he had gotten strange looks, watching as he struggled through each dance and having to consciously count himself through the steps without tripping over himself. He knew he looked ridiculous doing it, and despite that he was not keen to admit it, he was a prideful man who did not enjoy putting himself in a position to make a fool of himself if he could help it. 

He relented though for Serra’s sake, unable to find it within himself to deny herself the little pleasure of three dances when they had first arrived; despite cringing at the thought while she looked at him with big eyes, pleading and childishly excited — she had tried to conceal it, but there was no denying the giddiness when he had reluctantly agreed and been pulled immediately towards the dance floor. He had hurried back to his seat as soon as he could as he had met his part of their deal, leaving her to Emrys, who had swept in immediately and asked for a dance himself; Benjicot didn’t have the heart to object, because he trusted her, and he trusted his cousin to know his limits. He quietly sat at the head table, nursing a chalice of wine that he slowly sipped, his eyes fixed on the dance floor and watching slowly as the drunken stupor of wine took hold of the guests as the band continued, the sound of joyous laughter and discussion present over the soft lull of music as Lord Elmo and his father conversed among themselves with Benjicot sat between the two men  — even his father who did not care for the taste of wine had taken to indulging himself to a couple of cups. 

“I do not mean to interrupt, my Lords,” Maester Thaddeus said as he approached the men from behind, appearing between Benjicot’s chair and his father’s on his right as the conversation ceased. 

“Then do not,” Samwell said, visibly already annoyed by his presence as he waved him away and looked back to Elmo who raised an eyebrow.  

“It is urgent.” 

Samwell froze, sighing and looking up at him again, “Very well,” he replied. “What is it?” 

He stuttered a moment, “I’d first like to offer my congratulations to the young Lord Benjicot on his union of course,” he said, earning a tight smile from Benjicot. 

“Thank you, Thaddeus,” He replied. 

The elderly man nodded, a forced smile on his face — however, he sensed there was more to the conversation as he glanced between him and his father, “I have also come as there has been news from the borders— there have been more men spotted near the boundaries again…”

Benjicot frowned, looking at his father. 

“—This is hardly the time for this conversation, Thaddeus,” Samwell muttered, his voice sharp with irritation as he lifted his drink to his mouth.

“—Amos Bracken among them.” He added. 

His father stilled, the chalice at his mouth frozen in time as he then lowered it to the table and turned his head again, “Amos has joined them?” 

“It seems so, my Lord,” Thaddeus admitted, 

His father let out a gruff hum, the news hanging over them as he brought his wine to his lips and downed its content in silence; eyes turning to look over the crowd of guests and friends who were blissfully oblivious to the news, “Let me go.” Benjicot pleaded, leaning towards his father, “I can be there within less than an hour on horseback. I can take Emrys and Henry, we can provide support to Davos and his men—”

“And repeat the mess you made last time?” Samwell snapped, looking at him then. 

Benjicot hesitated, “No.” 

His father contemplated his answer, staring at him and setting his empty chalice down, “No, Benjicot.” He finally said, looking away. 

“Why not?” 

“Because I said so,” He answered quickly. “You are hardly married yet, your marital bed still cold and untouched, and you would sacrifice yourself to Amos Bracken before your wedding night is over?” He asked, dumbfounded by the suggestion and turning his head to look at him with a frown. 

He swallowed, glancing towards the room as it dawned on him that there was more to consider than just throwing himself to the wolves of battle — he had grown so used to carelessly throwing himself into these waters, that he had forgotten to consider his new wife, “I can come right back— go there and confront him, I can be back before midnight—”

“Benjicot, you have duties here,” Elmo said. “I admire your enthusiasm, I do, but your duty is here with Serra.”

“—and I will perform my duty, I assure you,” He insisted, “but this was my doing, let me go and put things right back as they were. Let me fix the mess I have made.” 

“Your father and Lord Elmo are right, Benjicot,” Thaddeus said, interrupting him before he could utter another word. His eyes darted between the three men, blindingly rapidly, “that brings me to the second matter at hand.” 

“But…” 

Samwell reached over quickly and grabbed his wrist on the table, silencing him and only shaking his head, “What is it, Thaddeus?” 

“There is the matter of the bedding ceremony,” He suddenly said. 

Lord Elmo choked on his drink, practically throwing his cup down and eyes bulging as he coughed — Kermit, from his left, grabbed his shoulder and grabbed the napkin in front of him. It had been the first time Benjicot had even noticed the eldest Tully son, making eye contact briefly as Benjicot shoved his chair back to avoid the spill of wine, his hands flinging up, “Shit,” Benjicot exclaimed. 

“Sorry,” Elmo coughed, “I apologise— pardon me. There will be no bedding ceremony.” 

Samwell let out a sudden snort of laughter, earning a series of shocked expressions as he wiped a dribble of wine from his chin that he had accidentally spit out while laughing at Elmo’s horrified expression — the conversation had never risen before this moment, a tradition that Samwell himself had participated in as a young man on his wedding night. He had neither had this conversation with Benjicot, as it had slipped his mind in the days leading up to the wedding but he had expected a better reaction from Lord Tully. Benjicot looked at his father, a frown etched deep into his features as he set his chalice down. 

“I will not have a dozen overweight, elderly men in the room with my daughter to watch her…” Elmo muttered, disgusted by the idea as he stammered, “engage in the marital act.”

Samwell laughed again, bringing his cup to his mouth for another sip, “I do not see what is so funny about this, Samwell.” Elmo said, turning to look at him. “I find the whole bedding ceremony utterly repulsive.” 

Lord Blackwood shook his head and held up a hand, still chuckling as he swallowed his drink and set the cup down again, “Forgive me, Elmo, I…I do not mean to offend you.” He sincerely said, his voice low and quiet. “I just assumed you were a man of tradition, given your house’s reputation.” 

“Not that one.” He readily snapped. “Do you not recall how mortified Alannys was? Serra is too fragile for that, I could not subject her to that.” 

“Oh, I have never forgotten.” Samwell smiled, leaning into the table with his elbows and clasping his hands together as though he was praying; his knuckles pressing to his mouth as he eyed the Lord Tully, “It is only a mere suggestion, right, Thaddeus?” He asked, his eyes lit up with amusement as he looked to the maester who stood over them. Thaddeus hesitated, glancing between the two men before he offered a reluctant nod. 

“It is…optional I suppose,” He slowly said. “It is just a precaution as a means to ensure the marriage is properly consummated.” 

He reached across towards where Benjicot sat, grateful that his sister had whisked the young bride away, as his hand clasped his son’s broad shoulder with a firm squeeze, “I do not doubt that my boy here will be able to fulfil his duty, isn’t that right, Benjicot?” 

The young man avoided his gaze as he stared at the table, sighing deeply and squeezing his eyes shut for a moment; humiliated enough as was, he heard Kermit let out a quiet snort while he too looked away. His eyes briefly glanced across the table, looking up through his lashes towards where Elmo grimaced and rolled his eyes — his father let out a final chortle, “There is no need to make more of a spectacle of the young bride and groom, no need to further embarrass them.” Samwell said, waving his hand dismissively and standing up from his chair. The maester nodded, still wary as he stepped back. 

Benjicot watched as he scanned the room in search of Serra, soon finding her all flushed cheeks and smiles as she laughed, the pair at an appropriate distance as they danced — the sight could have bothered Benjicot, but he was comforted by her smile, relaxing in his seat. She appeared at ease — he assumed the blush on her face was in part from the wine as her head tipped back in laughter. His father waved towards Alysanne who stood in a nearby corner of the dance floor, her dark eyes lifting to catch the movement and standing up and away from the wall to gently push her way towards his wife. 

After a whisper in her ear, Serra nodded, still breathless and smiling wide as she politely thanked his cousin for their dance before retreating with Alysanne from the floor. The two women quietly spoke as they walked towards the doors that exited the great hall, his wife’s head twisting to look back over her shoulder and finding him with her eyes before she exited — her smile softened, nodding her head in his direction as Benjicot pressed a hand over his mouth to conceal the small smile the sight of her brought to his face. At last, she turned and left the room, Samwell’s voice loud and clear as he spoke over the room, the music ceasing, “Honoured guests, the hour grows late, and it is time for our young lord and his bride to fulfil the ancient duties of marriage. Let us raise our cups and bid them a fond farewell for the night, wishing them a fruitful union and a blessed future."

His father raised his chalice, the room mirroring his actions for a moment before there was applause — the sound caused Ben to internally cringe as he took one last drink from his cup with clammy hands, forcing down whatever contents remained. He tuned out the sound of cheers of his name, wishing him well and blessing him as he stood slowly. His chair dragged across the ground, his father looking at him and offering a tight smile — for the first time in years, he found a look of pride and adoration in his eyes. His father moved to meet him as he circled the table, a hand touching coming to the back of his head and bringing his forehead to rest against his own. 

A moment of silence passed between them, the music resuming as they stood together. 

His father released him, stepping back and nodding, “You’re going to make a fine husband and father, my boy.” He said, blinking rapidly. 

Benjicot sucked in a deep breath through his nose, nodding as he forced a smile that was small and timid, “You will be a great Lord of Raventree.” Samwell added, his voice quieter this time as he spoke. 

He couldn’t put a finger on it, but his tone was off and held an edge of emotion that caused a shiver to run down his spine; the hairs on the back of his neck standing on edge. His brows furrowed, head tilting slightly as he opened his mouth to question the sudden need for vulnerability but he was interrupted again, “Your bride is waiting for you. Go on.” Samwell said, his tone stern again. His father’s smile was something melancholic as Benjicot nodded and slowly parted ways, heading towards the doors; feeling the room’s eyes on him as he walked. The doors closed behind him as Ser Eryn followed close behind. 

“Is he aware of your intention to go to Redfork tonight?” Elmo asked, the two men staring after the young Lord who had taken his leave. 

Samwell shook his head, “Not yet.” 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Alysanne and Serra walked in silence a majority of the journey back to her newly shared rooms — the only noise that passed between them was the sound of fabric and heels with each step, the music from the great hall growing quieter the further they walked from it, her head down and watching her feet. Every so often, Serra could hear Ser Alistair’s armour from behind them clank, his footsteps heavier than both of theirs. 

It was only once they reached the door did Alysannespoke, touching her elbow in a comforting gesture, offering a small smile that resembled her brothers as it did not quite reach her eyes, “This is where I leave you, my lady.” She softly said. 

Serra reached to take her hand, pulling it from her elbow and holding it with her own as she let out a breath, “Thank you.” She replied. 

The elder of the two women nodded, squeezing her hand, “I pray that my nephew is at least respectful.” 

Serra let out a choked laugh, nodding again. She did not know how to approach the question, her gaze dropping briefly and refusing to release her hand just yet, “Something troubles you.” 

She swallowed, “What is it like?” She asked, her voice small and shy.

Alysanne’s eyebrows shot up, eyes widening as she processed the question with parted lips that formed an ‘o’ as she glanced towards the guard who stood only feet away. She pondered her next words carefully, shifting uncomfortably as she glanced towards the guard who tried to keep as much distance as he safely could manage, “I’m not sure I am the best person to talk to you about this.” She quietly said, “Did your mother never teach you about such things?” 

Serra shook her head, looking up at her. 

“Oh, my dear.” She said, letting out a breathy laugh that hinted at her uncertainty, “You will be okay. It can be uncomfortable at first, but it becomes…tolerable. That is as much as I can tell you. The rest will come naturally.” Alysanne said, using her free hand to gently cup her cheek and brush her thumb over the skin there in a soothing manner, giving her a tight-lipped smile. 

The door opened beside them, a handmaiden stepping out and curtsying to the pair, “We are ready for you, my lady.” She quietly said.  

Alysanne withdrew from her, gently guiding her by her shoulder toward the room as Serra took one final, deep breath and shakily exhaled with one last look to the older Blackwood woman before she walked in behind the young woman who had come to retrieve her. 

The servant girls had helped her in stripping down to the simple, cotton chemise that fell to her ankles, her dress being neatly folded away for her while they made work of the pins that held her hair in place; allowing it to fall freely down her back while another pulled back the blankets for her. She was grateful once for the help for once as her hands shook the moment she entered her chambers, frozen and unsure what to do as they got to work. Her eyes had just watched, silent as they brushed out her hair with nimble fingers, pulling down the blankets, quick and quiet -- they were gone just as quickly, one young girl mumbling a soft comment of, “Good luck, m’lady” as she left. Serra wasn’t fully sure what she was to expect — her mother was gone before she’d even had a chance to ask these questions, and her brothers and father did not believe in entertaining such improper conversations. She did not even know how to ask about the events of one’s wedding night — she was the first to be married, but surely, her brothers would soon follow with their betrothals and she supposed she was the one to have those answers. 

Her gaze was fixed out the window, picking at her nails as the moments seemed to drag on, alone in silence as she awaited for…well, she wasn’t sure. It felt like hours before the sound of the door opening again startled her, turning to find Benjicot entering the room, his gaze timid and to the ground as he entered; briefly raising to look at her from across the room as he closed the door behind him. She could faintly hear the distant shout from the celebration hall on the other side of the house, her shoulders rising and falling with a deep breath as she turned to face him, her lips parting. Benjicot’s movements were wary as he slowly walked further into the room, yet to say anything to his new wife as he approached the settee; his left hand rising to reach across his chest to his right shoulder and making fluid, easy work to undo the pin that secured his cloak, allowing the fabric to come apart. He pulled the cloak from his shoulders and draped it over the seat, the pin reflecting the light of the fireplace that had been lit before her arrival before bending to unlace his boots. She watched his actions closely, unsure if she should approach him or let him come to her; twirling her fingers anxiously as she took a couple of shy steps towards him just as he stood upright. Benjicot’s gaze rose from the task, looking at her and watching as she moved toward him and straightened up — the light of the fire cast light across half his face, enough to make out his features as his eyes scanned down the length of her body. 

His hands reached next for the belt that hung around his hips, undoing it and placing it with his cloak, the metal of it clinking with the move. His head dropped to look down as he moved to lift towards the strings of his leather vest, beginning to fumble them undone just as she closed the gap to approach him until she was stood directly in front of him and reached out towards the strings his hands were preoccupied with, “Here…let me.” She quietly mumbled, his gaze going to her face, allowing his hands to drop to his sides after a moment and nodding once. She sheepishly glanced up at him, her fingers trembling as she undid the laces until the vest could be discarded amongst the growing pile of his clothing. 

There was a break in the discard of his clothing, Benjicot instead distracted by her features, a hand reaching up to take the ends of her hair between his fingers and playing with it, fiddling with the strands before his hand rose to brush some behind her ear. His thumb brushed along the shape of her cheekbone as it came to drop down, slow and curious, as if he was trying to map out every curve and dip of her body head-to-toe; the hand ceasing at her jaw and taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger. She swallowed, her attention fascinated by his features up close in this light -- even in this light, if not even more, he was strikingly handsome. Her right hand lifted, palm and fingers placed to his chest, splayed out as her hand pressed flat against his sternum to feel that familiar thrum of his heart just beneath his ribs; feeling the rise and fall of his chest with each breath. Her gesture prompted a smile from him, mouth curving upwards and a dimple appearing on his left cheek as she felt his heartbeat quicken under her palm. 

He let go of her chin, stepping back just enough to be able to pull the burgundy doublet up over his head and remove it fully, leaving him half-undressed in just his underclothes. Serra fought the urge to reach out and once again touch him, feeling a jolt in the pit of her stomach as her eyes explored the skin, letting him come forward to her again as he stepped closer until he was chest-to-chest with her; hands coming to her waist as his fingers pressed into her sides. Even through her clothing, as little as it was, she could feel the heat of his touch radiate through the fabric as his face hovered so close over hers, his breath brushed over her lips; close but not quite touching as her eyelids fluttered, her breath quickening and instinctively finding hold of him by his shoulders. She felt as he drove her feet backwards and towards the bed until her knees met the frame, so close but not yet kissing her, leaving her in the balance of anticipation and desperation. She practically pushed herself forward into him as his hands slid up her sides at a tantalisingly slow pace before coming to a rest at her ribs, just below her chest and using one hand to cup her right cheek. 

The dam of anticipation in her broke as his lips finally and fully pressed to hers, relieved as he truly and completely kissed her without restraint. His lips and tongue still held the lingering taste of wine from dinner, sweet and warm as his tongue slipped between parted lips to lick at her tongue with his own. The combined sensation of his mouth on hers and his touch left her feeling hot and flustered, a warmth pooling in her belly as she sharply inhaled a breath through her nose; sharing a breath with her husband, whose hot breath tickled her nose and cheeks. It seemed as though any thoughts of battle were long gone and left at the door as Benjicot put his all into the kiss, leaving her dizzy and breathless. 

She was grateful for the moment of air, catching her breath as he parted from her to lean away just long enough to guide her into sitting back on the mattress. She scuttled backwards to give him room to follow between her knees, watching instead amidst the dim glow of the orange flames, as hands went to his waist to untie the lace of his breeches and push them down, leaving him completely and fully bared to her once the final layer of his undershirt was discarded. She sat up against the pillows, knees pulled to her chest as he crawled up to her, too anxious to look anywhere but his face as he approached her on the bed. Soon enough, he was face-to-face again with her, kneeling between her knees that were guided down and apart with one hand that then settled against the bed over her hip as he pressed a kiss to her mouth, simple and sweet in contrast to the kiss moments ago. She lifted a hand to his face, stroking his cheek. 

“How much do you know about…” He quietly asked, mouth parted from hers as he sought the words. She shook her head in reply. 

“Not..a lot.” She admitted. 

He inhaled, letting out a breath against her lips as he nodded too, hand closing around her hip, “Move down, lie back.” He instructed in a hushed tone. 

She shyly moved to shimmy herself down and onto her back underneath him, her hands withdrawing toward herself and resting over her abdomen, flat against her belly as she waited for his next move. Her wide, curious eyes watched his movements closely as he readjusted himself between her legs, his thighs brushing hers and running fingertips down from her collarbone; down her body, his touch leaving a trail of heat in their wake as they trailed down the thin fabric until he stopped at her thigh. He grasped her chemises’ skirt and gently tugged it up until it could be bunched at her waist, leaving her bare to the elements as the breeze from the room tickled the flesh of her thighs, raising gooseflesh along the skin as her thighs rested over his, leaving her hips angled towards him. 

“I have heard that it hurts.” She announced, his eyes going to her face. “The first time…I have heard from other ladies that it hurts.” She further explained, restating herself to clarify her point. She could see the small smile on his face as he leaned over her, mouth coming to hers in another sweet kiss, though she could feel that same heat simmering below the surface from earlier. 

“I cannot guarantee it won’t…it is different for men.” He said, pausing. “Though I can promise to do my best not to bring you too much discomfort. Try to relax.” 

Her breath quickened, her heart hammering beneath her ribs as her hands slid up from her belly to the neck of her gown as she nodded, her lips brushing his. She watched as he moved back further on the bed, one hand over one of her knees while the other rose to his lips, pressing the digits to them — she couldn’t help but watch, curious and fascinated by his actions, gathering saliva with his fingertips; ensuring they were coated to his liking before his hand lowered between her thighs. It was then, that his stare caught hers once again, her bottom lip being taken between her teeth and sucking in a deep breath through her nose; shy and burning with embarrassment as her gaze turned toward the roof of the canopy of her bed and fidgeting with her fingers as his hand finally made contact with her skin again. She felt the pressure of his touch, the pads of his fingertips gentle in sliding up along her folds, his saliva combining with her slick arousal to allow the movement to glide with ease as fingers pressed against the pearl above her entrance. She could hardly control the clench of her belly, the warmth pooling there spreading like wildfire and igniting every nerve in her body when his fingers slowly began to rub against it with circular motions, his eyes stuck on her face and watching her from his place between her legs, gauging her reaction. 

Her chest rose with a deep breath in, too engulfed by embarrassment to move under his watchful gaze and swallowing when she dared to meet his stare, startled by the soft expression on his face — for once, he just existed peacefully, no signs of frown lines around his brow or mouth. He was just the boy Lord of Raventree — youthful and handsome. His actions caused a charged jolt to shoot up her spine, the warmth once in her lower belly intensifying as her right knee moved to press against his side, with a soft mutter of ‘oh’, her hips shifting against his touch.

 “Does that feel okay?” He suddenly asked. 

She had to muster the courage to choke out a reply, afraid of her voice at that very moment, instead giving him a small nod. She could see the relief on his face as he leaned into his free hand that pressed flat against the mattress beside her waist, buried in the deep red blanket that covered the bed. She resisted the urge to reach out and touch him amidst the battle of figuring out where to place them — did she grab hold of the blankets? Of him? 

“You can touch me, you know.” He stated like he had read her mind. She could make out the smile on his face and the tone that teased her, leaning forward to kiss her, a small muffled gasp of air being drawn in; every inch of her body aflame as the heat that spread down her belly, her thighs, until the sensation rested in her toes, tingling. At his words, almost like she had no control over her body, her right hand reached out towards him, leaned over her and made contact with his abdomen; the lean muscles rippling with movement as he adjusted himself so the hand by her waist could move to plant beside her head, his face hovering over hers. Benjicot withdrew from her lips, leaving her mouth chasing after his for a moment, her chin lifting while her fingertips traced down his abdomen until they stopped just between the dip of his hips. The feeling of his skin and the lewdness of the entire situation was thrilling, inciting an involuntary whimper. 

He readjusted, his hips coming closer to hers, enough so that his pelvis brushed hers while his hand moved; taking her whimper as a cue to proceed. His hand dipped, using the slick her arousal created as a lubricant to gently ease a finger into her, slow movements, readily on the lookout for any sign of discomfort that would prompt him to stop — her eyes widened up at him, mouth falling agape and walls fluttering around the digit at the intrusion; he could see her brows furrow, audibly withdrawing a sharp intake of air through parted lips as she seemed to be trying to decide on whether it was a sensation she welcomed. Benjicot stilled, his thumb reaching to brush against her clit and resuming the slow and steady movements against her. 

The hand that had been awkwardly placed at her chest finally moved, gripping his bright bicep tightly — he watched as she dropped her head back against the pillows, a whine of approval leaving her mouth that eased any worry in the back of his head. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her throat, the dip between her collarbones and dragging his lips up along the length of it, before settling at her pulse point and gently using his teeth to nip at the skin there, earning a content sigh as her head turned to bury into the pillow. Once he felt her muscles loosen, he edged a second finger in, his eyes never leaving her face; her hand at his hips sliding to his back and dragging her nails down his spine. 

Benjicot had no desire to overwhelm her — as much as his primal desires wanted nothing more than to fuck her senseless into the mattress, quick and relentless, he bit back his impulsive urges. His face nuzzled against her chest, nose brushing along the curve of her breast, feeling as her hand rose to lace itself at the roots of his hair, fingernails scratching his scalp and earning a groan of approval at the sensation. His fingers curled upwards as they slowly thrust into her, his fingertips pressing up into her walls, a sensation that felt as though his fingers worked in behind the delicate bundle of nerves — her mouth opened with a sharp gasp, moaning as her hips shifted against his hand, lifting into his palm. Her hand in his hair tightened, tugging him upwards and back to her face, her mouth messily finding him in an open-mouth kiss that was more pants of air than anything; his mouth wandering to proper kisses to her chin and cheeks. 

“Oh.” She softly breathed, his thumb picking up pace against her bud. 

His chest pressed to hers as he laid his weight overtop her, hips between her thighs as the heel of her left foot pressed into the back of his thigh. In the move, Serra was reminded just how little separated them now; feeling the weight of his hardened cock brush against her pelvis -- relishing in the sacredness of the intimacy shared between husband and wife, in the privacy of their chambers. She was suddenly grateful that there had been no public spectacle made of their departure following the feast, no bedding ceremony that involved several ageing men standing in their room to witness it — she had heard the stories of others' bedding ceremonies at supper, mortified by the thought. 

Her thighs ached as a pressure built in her belly, warmth pooling there like the embers of fire, stoked only by the ministrations of his hand; his forehead resting to her collarbone as his gaze lowered between them. His nose brushed her chin as he moved to watch the movements of his hand as his fingers moved in and out of her, coaxing every gasp and choked moan from her he could — Serra felt blessed to have a husband who had been gifted with the generous gifts the gods have given him, her chest arching up into his and clinging to him as a cry left her. The coil wound tight within belly snapped finally, her thighs clamping tight around his waist as her head pressed as far back into the mattress it could, stuttering out a mantra of his name as pleasure wracked through her body; her walls spasming around his fingers, “Fuck!” She sobbed. 

His head snapped up towards her at the curse, his eyes on her face as her peak consumed her, body and soul — it seemed such a vulgar expression from a girl who usually presented as demure and calculatedly proper, cautious of ever behaving as anything less. It seemed harsh coming from her mouth but piqued his interest as he pushed himself back in line with her eyes as he eased her through the aftershocks that shook her to the core. His lips grazed hers, pressing a kiss to her mouth and swallowing the whine that left her, her eyes still squeezed shut — harsh as the sound was from her mouth, he ached to be the reason she cursed again, to push her over the precipice of pleasure until she could not find any other words. Pride swelled in his chest as her lips met his in a kiss that was eager and desperate, pulling her up with his free hand by the front of her nightgown. 

She slowly sat up with him, an arm hooking around his shoulders as she leaned up into his kiss — skin hot and heavily breathing as his hand withdrew from between her thighs, earning a shudder from his wife. He sat back on his knees, his mouth parting from hers briefly to reach for the hem of her chemise with eager hands, her eyes on his and chest heaving with each breath as he pulled the gown up and over her head. He sensed her hesitation as her arms lifted with the task, dropping back to her sides once the fabric was discarded off the edge of the bed and gripping the pillows with nervous hands as his face hovered over hers — his right hand rested against her ribs, sliding down her side to the hinge between her hip and thigh as she gripped his shoulders. His nose nudged hers in an affectionate gesture, her lips parting as she let out a content sigh, exhaust already clearly written on her face as she lifted a hand to cup his cheek. 

His hand at her ribs slowly trailed upwards, his thumb coming up underneath her breast and brushing over the hardened nipple there, “My lovely wife,” he breathed, his hand fully moving to envelop her breast in his palm and squeezing gently, “My Lady Blackwood…” 

Her head tilted backwards with a soft mewl of appreciation, leaning back into her other hand that was still buried among the pillows, her eyes fluttering shut. His mouth connected with her sternum, the bed dipping beneath his weight as he abruptly slid down the bed, utterly consumed by his lust as he laid on his stomach; her thighs being dragged up and over his shoulders with his face eagerly coming between her legs. Serra released a startled gasp as his mouth attached itself to her, tongue swiping up her folds and finding her bud once again with his lips this time — his tongue dipped into her, pressing open-mouthed kisses against her womanhood as she clutched tightly to the bedding. One of her hands found its way back to his hair, fisting it between clammy fingers as her chest heaved with heavy gasps for air, “Oh gods.” 

Benjicot released a guttural groan from below her, the grown-in facial hair scraping the delicate flesh of her thighs with each desperate lap and kiss, only heightening her senses as her thighs attempted to close around his head. He could feel her thighs tense, trembling underneath his touch as his mouth continued its ministrations, her body slumping back into the pillows with a cry, “Ben— Ben.” She breathed out, voice cracking with a weak cry of pleasure. 

He could have stayed there forever — between her thighs, listening to her cries if time would have allowed for it, drinking in the image of her as he glanced up; her chest pushed up and arched against him as she writhed against the mattress with whines tumbling from her mouth. 

She tugged him desperately away from her, her body ablaze as he eased off the mattress and was guided up until he was pressed against her; bare chest to hers, her soft skin slick with perspiration against his as he caught his breath. His hands planted against the mattress behind her, her thighs loosely around his waist as his pelvis brushed her own, “Do I satisfy you, wife?” He softly asked, ducking his head to briefly capture her lips with his. 

Serra whined against his mouth, his hips reflexively grinding against hers and brushing against her sensitive skin. Her arms moved around him, coming up underneath his arms and palms pressing to the planes of his back as she pulled him flush against her, “Yes.” She gasped against his mouth. 

It was a simple enough response, but it stirred something in him, causing him to release a moan of his own. His left hand moved to reach between them, his hand wrapping around his cock and bringing the head to her entrance; swiping up through her folds. He felt as she tensed, releasing a gasp that caused him to hesitate — the heels of her palms pushed against his back, pulling him into her again, the cue he needed to proceed; his hips aligned with hers as his hips angled into hers before slowly sinking into her. 

His mouth opened with a soft groan, her face pinched up in a wince as she let out a sharp gasp at the intrusion, “Fuck.” He muttered. 

Her hands adjusted against his spine, slipping down to his waist from his shoulders, her fingernails digging into the flesh of his hips. His gaze rose to her face, breathless as he withdrew his hand from between them to lift and cup her cheek as her head pressed back into the pillows with a strangled whimper, his thumb tilting her chin down and bringing her face back towards his, “Okay— you’re okay,” He soothed, her mouth agape as his hand held her chin in the crook between his thumb and forefinger with a delicate touch as he bottomed out; her walls tight and clenching around him. 

Her chest heaved, eyebrows furrowing as she squeezed her eyes shut; Benjicot’s hips slowly withdrew, his movements slow as he rocked into her, another whimper on her lips at the stretch and burn of him embedded into her. She felt his mouth over hers, lips brushing hers as he spoke, his forehead pressed to hers, “There you go…” He encouraged her. “Just breathe.” 

The hand at her jaw removed itself, reaching to find one of hers and lacing his fingers through hers as his palm pressed against her own; her hand being pinned against the mattress above her shoulder. His mouth captured hers in another heated kiss, a subtle distraction from how full of him she felt — his pelvis brushed hers with a slow roll of his hips, drawing a soft moan from her. It was a relief to earn some noise of approval finally that did not hint at pain, Benjicot leaned his weight into her and supported himself by his free arm as he leaned into his elbow, “Gods.” He breathed out, his hips rutting into hers. 

Just as Alysanne had warned, there was discomfort — tight and feeling as though she could have split right then and there, beneath the weight of him, but it stoked a flame within her; a flush of warmth spreading down her body as her hips lifted into his, Benjicot’s face burying into her neck and arching into him. Her chin lifted towards the ceiling, a sharp breath being inhaled as she then let out a high-pitched moan and moved a hand to grip the back of his hair; her thighs opening further to welcome him. She gasped, the sounds of them both echoing within the room as Benjicot held her in place; pinned beneath him as he mindlessly fucked himself into her, his pelvis brushing against hers in a way that could have brought even the kingdoms to their knees. She felt his mouth find the corner of hers in a kiss, her mouth agape and lazily responding to him as another soft meek of appreciation slipped from her mouth — her senses were still raw, the hair on the back of her neck standing at attention. 

A guttural moan left her husband, clamouring to come back to her face as his nose bumped hers, his mouth hovering over hers. The hand that previously pinned hers released, his hand coming to cup her cheek as she instinctively hooked a hip around his waist to pull him into her — her eyes found his, half-lidded and looking at her with nothing shy of awe and adoration; a warm glow in his eyes that elicited a flush of colour to spread across her face, mouth opening in another cry as she felt herself spiral, losing her grip on that last thread of reality that kept her grounded; tumbling through her peak as she clung to him, her nails digging into his flesh. 

His forehead pressed to hers, slick with sweat and hair clinging to his skin. His hips snapped against hers twice more before he let out a euphoric sigh against her mouth, spilling himself into her and screwing his eyes shut. His weight moved off his elbow, laying full into her after a moment; her arms still around him and holding him against her as the room was filled by the soft pants of the husband and wife catching their breath, warmed by the fire that still burned across from them. Benjicot did not move, with his belly pressed to hers and lying between her thighs, still buried inside her as his head soon found rest against her neck — even if Serra had the desire to move, she couldn’t with her thighs around his waist and buried into the mattress underneath him. She blindly found the hair at the nape of his neck, fingers carefully carding through the roots as she slowly came to her senses; her eyes scanning the canopy above her and processing what had just happened — was this marriage? Was this what she had to look forward to? 

In the fog of things, with the last traces of euphoria still coursing through her veins, marriage did not seem so daunting — it seemed pleasant and blissful. 

Benjicot stirred against her, moving just enough to press a kiss to the crook of her neck and then another to her collarbone; lips wet against her skin as he licked them. His left hand found her ribs, sliding up her body and stopping below her breast as his hot breath tickled her skin, moving finally to look at her face again and slowly scanning every little fine detail his eyes could find. Serra gave a breathless smile, letting out a soft laugh — in the dim lighting, she saw Benjicot’s mouth quirk upwards, “You’re alright?” He asked, voice barely a whisper. 

“I think so,” She answered. 

He pressed a kiss to her mouth in that same breathtaking way that she craved for an eternity of, before he withdrew his hips; his body pulling away from hers with the action as he shifted — she was painfully aware suddenly how empty she now felt, besides that warm sensation of him between her legs. His head lowered to press a kiss to her chest as he shuffled back on the mattress and rolled over beside her; sprawled out on his back and let out a tired sigh. Her head turned to look at him, watching the way his chest rose and fell with slow, deep breaths with his eyes closed with a hand over his chest — she wasn’t sure what came next exactly, staring at him, waiting. 

An eye opened, turning his head slightly to look at her, visibly exhausted as they shared a look -- his eyes averted from hers quickly, his mouth opening as though he wanted to say something but instead, she was met by silence; his hand moved to find hers, lacing his fingers through hers and gently squeezing it as they closed again, relaxing as her thumb brushed along the back of his hand. 

A sudden bang on the door was followed by a shout, “Plant the Blackwood seed deep, cousin! Make us all proud!” 

“Oh, I’m pretty sure he already has.”  

Benjicot leaned up on his elbows, his gaze fixed on the door and opened his mouth, his brows furrowing as a series of drunken cackles followed. He listened to the clamour of his cousins, stumbling over one another as a thud followed, presuming one of the boys had fallen; Serra shifted beside him, his head turning to look up at her with an incredulous look, eyes widening as he then rolled them; a shy smile on her face as she let out a quiet laugh. 

“Don’t take too long! The boys are missing you!” Emrys shouted. 

“Shut up— take your time!” Henry silenced his younger brother, the sound of their clamouring footsteps heard from under the door, “We’re entrusting you two to create the next legendary Blackwood heir!” 

“I could kill them, you know,” he suggested, voice quiet and looking back towards the door, “kill them, we flee to the woods and live in a modest little hut of our own. It’s sounding oddly appealing right about now.” He grumbled. 

“Not like this,” She replied, shifting to lean over and press her lips to his shoulder in a kiss. Benjicot looked at her, his nose brushing hers in close proximity, “We will have to return sooner than later, you know.” She mumbled. 

“We don’t have to,” he remarked. “We could just stay here the rest of the night— surely, I think the council and my father would understand if we were busy trying to secure the Blackwood line.” 

The suggestive tone in his words left her speechless, face warming as she could only muster a shy smile against his mouth as he leaned in, closing the gap to press another kiss to her mouth, “You’re the heir. We can’t.” She quietly managed to mutter against his mouth, feeling as he let out a hum into her lips. Her right hand lifted quickly and wrapped around his neck, fingers gentle as she nudged him back, “We can’t.” She repeated, her voice firmer. 

She watched the look cross his features, a grin on his face as his gaze dropped to her mouth for a moment, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, “If you say so,” He teased. 

Benjicot moved quickly, lunging to his feet and bending to sweep up his clothing; finding his pants rather quickly and pulling them back on, leaving them on his hips untied. Her eyes watched him, entranced as he found his undershirt and slid it on — while collecting his clothing, his fingers plucked up her shift that had been strewn on the floor in the moment. He looked proud of himself, smug as he sauntered towards her, a hand lifting to gesture her up and towards him with a summon of his fingers. 

Serra felt the urge to shy away under the heat of his gaze, a self-satisfied smile on his face as she slowly moved to slide off the bed and stand in front of him in all her entirely; bare beneath his gaze. One of his hands reached out to graze up her side, nudging her arm to cue her to lift them to which she complied, her arms raising to allow him to easily glide the fabric down her arms and over her head. Nimble fingers worked to tug the fabric down over her chest and belly, the fabric enveloping her thighs with touches that lingered, brushing along the expanse of her body as he gave the gown one last fix. 

Her hand reached out suddenly, his eyes darting towards it and back to her face — he relaxed, allowing her to proceed and reach out. She avoided his eyes as she moved to tuck his shirt into the pants, straightening out the straps over his shoulders; her hands then began to make swift work of lacing him up at his waist, fastening the article of clothing around his hips. She finally glanced up as her hands dropped once the task was completed, finding him still watching her with that same look; he chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, dimple prominent with the action as he seemed to be lost in thought. 

“Do you need help with your dress?” He asked, voice hushed. 

“I can summon Grace,” she said, smoothing out the shirt over his chest. “I don’t imagine you have any experience with dresses, you need not worry.” 

Benjicot withdrew and walked backwards towards where her ladies had previously neatly folded her dress over a table to keep it from being wrinkled, a grin on his face, “You underestimate me, my dear wife.” 

Her eyebrows shot up, following his steps in moving forward towards him with slow, tentative steps, “And pray tell, why might you know such things…husband?” 

“I’m observant,” He nonchalantly replied. 

She stepped forward until she stood in front of him again, her husband reaching for a flagon of water that sat atop her writing table; searching for a cloth but coming short and instead settling on a handkerchief among her things. Benjicot tipped the flagon enough to wet the piece of fabric by pouring water into it, offering it to her with a look that flickered between her face before lowering south between her legs — she eyed it, sucking in a breath as she dawned on the realisation of his suggestion when he gently shook it. She reached out to accept it and retreated to a stool to clean herself near the fire; the sound of rustling fabric behind her as the once pristine handkerchief was stained by a light spotting of blood and the reminisce of their duty, wincing. 

She glanced briefly over her shoulder towards him, finding him delicately handling her dress and holding it over his arms, waiting expectantly. 

She huffed as she tossed the handkerchief to a nearby bin for soiled clothes, standing and straightening her shift. Benjicot offered her an arm as she stood, her thighs clamping together uncomfortably as she uttered a soft ‘thank you’ — he only let out a hum, seemingly focused on the task with a knitted brow as he helped the dress over her head; circling her to straighten out the back. Serra was used to the routine of others dressing her, feeling hands at her waist and neck, fixing her dress; but it dawned on her that Benjicot was too — it was a thought that she found discomforting, but unable to find it within herself to say anything as she felt the cloak of his house colours settle on her shoulders; his fingers sliding underneath the fabric to fix it against her skin. His hand closed around her shoulder to turn her, facing one another as he reached to fasten the cloak but was stopped by her hand, “I can do it.” She insisted. 

He looked up at her, nodding. She did not mean to become so irritable the more she thought about it, but the words had come out before she could even think to restrain herself — she leaned up and kissed him, to soothe the wound before she backed away. The thought lingered, however, her father’s words echoing in her memory; angry as he rambled on about ending their betrothal on the spot — she pondered the tone of his voice when he denied the claims of a child, running through that moment a thousand times since and analysing every little detail; the sincerity of his words. He had been exhausted from the beating and she had never thought to question it before. 

She couldn’t help but picture a child with his bright eyes and matching dark hair, chubby, rosy cheeks and all smiles — dawned in yellow and red to match their mother’s house, and the thought made her feel sick and dirty, feeling as though to some degree she could have been responsible for taking the father of a child away from them before they were even granted the chance to know him, true or not. The thought made her want to crawl out of her skin that she could have been responsible for such an idea — the anger and shame she held within her body could only be directed at the man in front of her, not towards a child who had no say in the matters of their conception; they were not responsible for bearing that burden of accountability for something beyond their control before they were even born. Serra swallowed. 

She learned that Benjicot seemed to have a way of making dressing look like an art form that he had mastered; in his own oblivious world and doing it with such ease, practised as he walked throughout the room whilst tying his shirt closed, and pulling the doublet over his head. He had hardly paused as he fixed his hair with his fingers, plucking up the leather vest and pulling it on; Serra watched as he easily tied it back together and snug against his body, barely giving any mind to her task at hand. His eyes briefly lifted as though he felt her watching him, and there it was again — that small knowing smile on his face, looking up through his lashes as he tugged the vest to straighten it against his chest; that smile that made her heart swell within her chest, a juxtaposition to her resentment towards him for betraying her before he had even allowed her to do right by him and prove herself, and bringing a child into the world that he had no intention to claim — the flurry of emotions that coursed through her veins and haunted her thoughts involved nothing but shame. 

She lowered his eyes from his, embarrassed at being caught staring as she collected her stockings from the table and sat once more to roll them up her legs underneath her dress, the fabric rising with the task. Her skirts were shoved back down and smoothed, turning to find her husband waiting with her shoes in his hand, having already pulled his boots and cloak back on — she hesitated, looking at them and his face before he slowly crouched to set them down in front of her. He helped her into them, offering her a shoulder for her to lean into as she stepped into them; her hand planted against his shoulder for stability as she swayed, legs ready to give out underneath her. Once she released him, he stood and stepped back, letting out a breath as he rolled his shoulders. 

“Are you ready?” He suddenly asked. 

She silently nodded. 

A thought dawned on him, his eyes going to the bed and holding up a finger to her as if to signal one moment — he moved to brush past her, bent over the bed and observing it; she internally cringed at the sight of the blood stain where she had been moments prior, but Benjicot seemed unfazed as he quickly made work to strip the sheet from the bed. She watched him lazily fold it up, balling it and holding it against him as though that would do anything to conceal what it was he was carrying — his cloak half hid it as he returned to her side, taking her hand in his free one and sliding his fingers through hers.

The walk back towards the great hall was a long one, silent as she felt all the eyes of Raventree on her; servants and other house staff bowing their heads whilst uttering blessings to them as they passed — she hated to admit it, but the only thing that grounded her at that moment was Benjicot’s hand, his shoulder bumping hers as they walked, his pace slow to accommodate hers; and every so often, his gaze occasionally drifted to find hers, his eyebrows raising when she made eye contact as if he was checking that she was okay. Once they reached the bottom of the stairs, Benjicot summoned Ser Eryn towards them and muttered something to him. 

“Can you summon the council and maester?” His voice was low enough that she could hardly make out his words, her ears ringing as she briefly looked into the room that was still bustling with celebrations; the room still buzzing with men and women who were drunk, stumbling over themselves and dancing as music filled every corner. She could vaguely see her father had remained at his seat, joyfully laughing as he spoke to a Lord who she recognized from House Piper — Ser Eryn quietly replied with a question, “Yes, the Lord Tully as well— and my father.” 

“Your father is…preoccupied, my lord.” 

“Where is he?” 

“I’m not too sure, unfortunately. He stepped out shortly after you, but he should return soon.” Ser Eryn replied. 

Serra looked towards the two men finally, Benjicot’s expression one of confusion as he reluctantly nodded and dismissed his sworn protector. The guard bowed his head before he retreated into the room before she was pulled out of sight from the room, around the corner towards the wall. They were silent, hand-in-hand, the sound of laughter and shouting from the room; listening to the drunken lords and ladies who excitedly whispered as the council crossed the room, the Lord Elmo in tow as Ser Eryn had been instructed to do. Benjicot’s gaze fixed on the side of her face, her eyes up towards the ceiling as he trailed a thumb across her knuckles in a soothing gesture. She briefly turned to look up at him, a small smile on his face as she gave his hand a reluctant squeeze. 

“My dove,” Elmo sighed as he entered the hallway, shoving past the men of his council to get to her. 

Serra’s eyes tore from Benjicot’s, looking to her father as he immediately reached out to grab her by her shoulders with a gentle hold and looking her over — he cupped her cheek, “Are you alright, my dear?” 

She shyly nodded. 

Her gaze darted over his shoulder, watching as the maester was handed the bed linens by her husband — the exchange was quiet, Maester Edric unfolding the sheet and assessing them, as everyone seemed to wait in silence for his response. Serra felt the need to curl up and die, mortified by the display in front of her father, while her brothers were hidden amongst the councilmen. 

“The union has been successful— I can confirm the marriage has been consummated,” Maester Eric stated after a long pause, looking at Elmo. His old, wisened eyes looked then towards Serra, his voice softening, “You have both done well.” 

Elmo clapped his hands together, startling his daughter, a relieved mutter breaking out amongst the men who surrounded them; the enthusiastic congratulations being extended immediately to the young boy lord, “Oh, the Gods shine down on us today— Serra, my dear, you make our house proud.” He excitedly said, his attention turning to Benjicot as he approached her side, “Benjicot— you too.” He rambled, reaching to shake his hand. 

“I should make the announcement,” Her father suddenly announced, eyes widening as he brushed past them in a hurry. 

Serra’s mouth opened to protest, embarrassed enough by the bows of heads and congratulations that now surrounded her; feeling as though there was a hand at her arm or grabbing her hand every second — she found it overwhelming as she leaned into Benjicot, who steadied her against his chest. His hands rested on her shoulders, holding her against him as she let out a breath, forcing a smile in the direction of Robbard Mooton as he begrudgingly offered his congratulations with a mutter before shuffling away with a scowl.  She could hear her father clinking his chalice with a utensil, drawing all eyes to him as his drink was held high. 

“This sacred bond between our houses is now complete, sealed in the eyes of gods and men. The honour of House Tully and House Blackwood stands strong, and this marriage shall fortify the ties between our families for generations to come.

May this union bring prosperity and strength to our houses, and may the love between Benjicot and Serra grow as deep as the rivers that nourish our lands. Tonight, we celebrate not just a marriage, but the forging of an alliance that will endure through the ages."

“Congratulations on your union, sister,” Kermit spoke from behind him as Robbard excused himself quickly.  He stepped forward, hands clasped at the hilt of his sword and visibly tense as he spoke from behind gritted teeth. 

Serra could tell he was avoiding Benjicot’s eyes and had no desire to be there — she could see the tension in his shoulders, forcibly squared and trying to appear as large as he could, stiff as a board as he stood upright, looking down his nose at her, “Thank you, Kermit.” She softly replied. 

He hummed, not yet leaving as he stared at her, his expression tense with annoyance as though being there in that moment was a burden forced upon him. To see him so withdrawn from her, denying her of any genuine warmth and kindness that she had always known him for caused her heart to ache, fidgeting with her hands for a moment before she stepped forward to reach for one of his hands and took it between hers, “I should hope that soon enough you will be married too— happily and blessed by the Gods.” She nervously said, offering him a timid smile. 

Benjicot’s hands squeezed around her shoulders, as though he was trying to soothe her from the anxiety that washed over her in that moment, staring at her brother with intense focus. 

“I suppose I will be,” He replied, the answer cold and distant as he glanced at her husband behind her. She could faintly see the twitch of his eye as he found Benjicot, hardly suppressing the scowl of disgust that crept across his face, “Thank you, sister.” He said, pulling his hand from hers. 

Benjicot fought the urge to scoff aloud, his eyes rolling in response to his friend’s attitude and the comment -- it took everything in him not to lunge at him and violently shake him like his father had done to him several times as a boy, hoping to shake some sense into him. Kermit wasn’t stupid, Benjicot had grown fully aware of that after years of friendship, but his behaviour was childish and ridiculous in his eyes -- that despite the bond he had with his sister, he was willing and quick to resent her for a mistake that was not hers to bear the consequences of. His jaw clenched, withdrawing his hands to his sides and watching as his sister attempted to reach again for him. 

“Kermit, I—“ 

“I should let you get back to your celebrations,” Kermit snapped. “I’d hate to ruin your night.” He muttered, looking back down at his sister who let out a quiet ‘oh’, small like a child and blinking rapidly a couple of times whilst his gaze darted one last time towards Benjicot. The way he toyed with his wife enraged him, letting out a low growl of annoyance that came from deep within his throat -- how could he torture his sister over some petty feud that had nothing to do with her? 

His eyes turned back to his sister. Benjicot witnessed the way a look crossed his features -- a look he could only describe as a moment of remorse as she looked down, his features subtly softening like he wanted to take it all back -- Benjicot wanted him to. He wanted him to regret it and take back his attitude; for him to apologise and beg for her forgiveness, prove to them both that it was a mistake and insist he was happy for her.  Benjicot could bear the thought of him being angry with him -- he had grown used to it after several squabbles as boys that led to Kermit being angry with him for days and avoiding him like he was the human embodiment of illness; Benjicot was used to that silence and knew he would come crawling back with some subtle hint he had forgiven him with some excuse of training together, or whatever he could muster. But he knew his sweet wife could not. 

Kermit visibly hesitated, his shoulders slouching with a breath, reaching forward to gather one of her hands with one of his own and lifting it. He kissed her knuckles, his head bowing as he lowered her hand, her head whipping up to look at him as her hand fell back to her side. 

Serra timidly nodded, too worried she would worsen things if she pressed further — she longed to reach out, to bridge the widening chasm between them, but the words tangled on her tongue.  Her eyes followed him as he turned on the ball of his foot and descended back into the hall that still roared with festivities, disappearing among the crowd and straining her eyes to catch one last glimpse of him. She hardly noticed as Benjicot stepped closer, his head lowering until his lips brushed the shell of her ear, “It’s not you that he is angry with,” Benjicot assured with a whisper. 

She instinctively sought his hand as the familiar, soothing weight of it rested again on her shoulder, her hand lifting across her chest to entangle their fingers at her left shoulder, “It does not make this any easier,” She admitted. 

His lips pressed to her temple in a comforting kiss, “I know,” Benjicot hummed, her cheek leaning into their hands as he stood upright, “But he will come to see reason eventually— he could never stray too long from you. You are two halves of the same soul if I ever saw one.” 

Her head turned, looking up at him — he offered a small smile, his hand pulling from hers to brush some hair behind her ear and neatly tucking it away from her face, “Come now,” he instructed, finally pulling from her and finding her hand in his once more. “You only get one wedding night, we mustn’t squander it worrying about things we cannot control.” 

Benjicot waited, looking at her expectantly as he gently tugged on her hand, encouraging her to move — her eyes had turned to stare after where her brother had gone, hesitating still to join him, “Please,” He said, forcing her forward a step as she looked back at him, “Do not let your brother sour the mood tonight. I will make amends with him in time, he will forgive us both. He will always care for you, no matter how he feels now— this does not reflect his true feelings.” He reasoned. 

“I just want my brother,” she sighed, relenting and allowing him to lead her back into the hall as she found rest against his side; nestled under his arm that held her against him, seeking respite in his warmth and calm demeanour among the overwhelming chaos of the celebrations that were not yet close to dying down still. The room remained loud, the lights too bright for her eyes as she closed them, trusting him to lead them both through the crowd.  

His hand found her waist as they walked, the moment brief and intimate, “You do have him.” 

She was reminded of Oscar’s presence as he greeted them at the doors, his smile one of pride and warmth as he stood just inside the hall; her father was too distracted by a conversation with two men as he rambled excitedly to notice her arrival and acknowledge her further. 

She felt guilty that she seemingly had forgotten he too was there, in all the chaos of getting ready, exhausted from a sleepless night of tossing and turning in bed; when her youngest brother was present and participating in the celebration of her new union, unable to conceal his giddiness, his hands clenching around the hilt of his sword as though it would somehow hide in plain sight that he was itching to approach her. 

Oscar, in his wisdom and knowledge despite his youth, had always been skilled at reading a room and understanding the importance of timing -- he also knew Serra and knew that she would be overwhelmed amidst everything happening and had restrained himself from unintentionally contributing to things. 

She realised that he was correct — despite Kermit’s current tantrum, she still had a brother — boyishly smiling at her like she had hung every star in the sky, proud and eager for her arrival that he was borderline bouncing on his feet as she entered; she was relieved to see a face that did not overwhelm her with thoughts of duty and expectation, nor guilt for experiencing even the smallest amount of bliss on her wedding night. Her youngest brother, proper and pristine as ever, turned to face her and Serra could only feel relief. She relaxed against Benjicot’s side, pulling from him to hurry towards her brother, her hands extending for him before she had even reached him — Benjicot was right that she at least had Oscar at that moment. It had dawned on her that she had hardly seen him all day, even after the wedding ceremony, only having caught brief glimpses of his hair in the crowd. 

His hands found hers, bringing one to his mouth to place a kiss across her knuckles quickly, “You look radiant,” He commented as she stopped in front of him, “just like our mother, you know.” He commented, his compliment flowing with such ease she knew he was sincere. She could never doubt Oscar, because he was truthful and did not make it a habit to say anything that he did not mean. 

Embarrassed, Serra felt herself become choked up at his words, emotion crawling up the back of her throat and tearing up as she blinked to rid herself of the tears that threatened to spill. She could not pinpoint the exact root cause for the tears as she let out a sad, melancholic laugh that was strangled; but she was painfully aware that in the weeks since her arrival of loneliness and isolation that she had carried since she had stepped foot into Raventree, that childish need for her mother gnawing at the back of her mind, “Are you not happy?” Her brother asked, concerned by her tears. 

She shook her head quickly, “No, it’s not that,” she assured. “I am…I am happy.” 

“Then why do you cry?” 

She hesitated, “I just wish she could have been here.” Serra admitted, pulling a hand from his and cupping his cheek affectionately, “She would have been proud of the man you have grown to be.”

Her brother stilled as a look crossed his features, unreadable and unblinking as he stared at her the weight of her words rested heavy over them and visibly swallowed. He let out a small noise that resembled a forced laugh from his nose, “Is this what marriage does to one?” He quietly teased, touching her hand on his face. 

She laughed, leaning forward and pressing a tender kiss to his forehead and brushing over his head, smoothing out the stray curls that she knew to be unruly since he was a babe. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Benjicot did not feel the need to intrude on the tender moment between the two siblings, watching as his wife soon became distracted by a conversation with her younger brother -- he had stayed a majority of the interaction but felt it necessary to give them a moment of privacy. As a boy, he envied what it must have been like to have siblings that ran about the castle, filling its halls with noise as they laughed, played, and fought -- he had watched them a majority of their childhood; and witnessed the unconditional love and bond they shared, expressed through defending one another, loyal to one another even when the others were not present. 

He was fortunate enough to have his three first-cousins who grew up only down the hall from him, the sons his Uncle Willem’s pride and joy, and becoming something of his playmates -- but he yearned for what it would have been like to have had brothers and sisters of his own, who shared his blood entirely. 

He had tugged at his sleeves, fixing them and looking away as Serra leaned in to press a kiss to Oscar’s forehead, his gaze scanning the room and averting anywhere else they could. The room had begun to stink of wine and old food that had been left to go cold, their guests too distracted in dance and song to pay it any mind, too drunk to even stay on their feet as he witnessed several men stumble over their own feet and scarcely catch themselves. His thoughts were distracted by his disgust at the sight, never quite understanding the appeal for impairing the mind of its ability to think clearly and act in better judgement -- even at his wedding, he felt no desire to join in and follow their lead. Even as Emrys and Henry approached him, breathless from laughter and red-faced as Henry slung an arm around his younger cousin’s shoulders and pulled him into his armpit to ruffle his hair, “There’s the man of the hour,” Henry remarked, a laugh in his voice as Benjicot strained to pull himself from his grasp, “Way to do us all proud, Benji.” 

Benjicot fought the urge to wretch at the nickname, finally freeing himself from his grasp with an exasperated sigh, “How’s it feel to be a man now?” Emrys snickered, being shoved by the young heir who rolled his eyes, face reddening in embarrassment. 

“A husband no less, aye,” Henry added. 

Benjicot straightened his tunic, casting a wary glance around the room before turning back to his cousins with a strained smile. “Well, it feels like I’ve been handed a rather heavy set of responsibilities,” he said, trying to sound lighthearted. “And as for being a husband, I suppose I’ll have to adjust to this new role, just as you two seem to be adjusting to your wine-soaked festivities.”

He cast a sidelong glance at the revellers, his voice lowering slightly. “I’ll leave the grand display of ‘manhood’ to you, Emrys, and you too, Henry. For now, I’m more inclined to focus on not making a fool of myself.”

Emrys feigned an insulted pout as a hand pressed to his chest, mimicking a wound, whilst the eldest of the three laughed with his head thrown back, “So he’s too good for us now, you hear that?” Henry teased. 

“Always was,” Benjicot taunted, teasing him as he shoved his cousin back a step. He paused, allowing for the sound of the festivities to fill the silence as his two cousins snickered, looking around again -- he suddenly noticed his father’s absence, despite looking around twice before he settled on the realisation he was nowhere to be found. His brows furrowed, mouth ajar, “Henry, do you, uh…happen to know where my father went?” He asked, looking at his cousin who took a sip from his chalice. 

He appeared visibly confused, looking at Emrys who swayed absentmindedly, drunk as he seemed to be oblivious to the fact, “I don’t actually. Oi-- Emrys,” He called, drawing his brother’s attention back to the conversation, “Where did our uncle go?” Emrys snorted suddenly, “He went to the Redfork, you know this.” He said, his tone suggesting it was the most obvious thing. 

Both men snapped upright, tense and confused as Henry lowered his head, frowning, “What?” The two men asked in unison. 

Emrys let out a small laugh, grinning as he looked around, his eyes slowly returning to face them -- his smile dropped when he faced them again, “The Redfork…Davos and a few men went out to patrol this afternoon, there was some spat at the borders with some Bracken boys, Aeron Bracken among them,” He said, his tone again suggesting it was a widely known fact as he looked between his brother and Benjicot but instead met by silence, “It escalated into a full-blown battle, Samwell and Alysanne left a half hour ago with Robb and some of his men at the borders. More are to join them within the hour.”

“What the fuck do you mean they left?” Benjicot spluttered angrily. 

Emrys attempted to force a laugh to lighten the mood, but the sound was cut short as Benjicot’s eyes narrowed, shaking his head, “You…” He started to say but stopped himself, “You truly didn’t know?” 

He twitched, fist coming up quickly and ready to grab him by the shirt but stopping himself, and forcing out a frustrated sigh, “Obviously not, you dumb…” He growled, once again having to stop himself, his cousin’s eyebrows raising, “And what of your father?” 

Emrys glanced around again, slow to process and blinking in shock as he stuttered for a moment. He frowned, “He, uh…he has stayed behind by instruction of your father, I believe.” 

“Where is he?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Figure it out then,” He snapped, grabbing his tunic by the shoulder and forcing him to move a couple of stumbling steps as he began to seek his uncle. His head turned, scanning the room and trying to look through every face that his eyes could find, coming up empty. 

“Get your bloody hand off…” Emrys began to argue, trying to pull from him. Benjicot shoved him, his anger bubbling over, releasing his shirt to allow him to tumble forward. 

“Benjicot!” Serra exclaimed, catching his cousin as he merely missed falling into her and Oscar, wide-eyed and helping him up to his feet, “Are you alright, Emrys?” She asked hurriedly, her tone panicked as she looked at him, visibly concerned. 

The blonde straightened his clothing, scowling as he brushed off her hand from his shoulder, “Yeah, your husband is just being a moody cunt.” He replied. 

Benjicot’s head whipped towards him, pausing his search just long enough to scoff, “You fail to tell me my father has gone off to battle and I’m moody?” He spat. 

“I’m sorry,” Emrys sarcastically shot back, “what would you have had me do? Barge into your room while you were fucking your wife? Yeah, I bet you would have listened to me then.” 

Benjicot lunged forward, being caught by Henry as his arm wrapped around his shoulders to force himself between the two men; the youngest Blackwood being dragged back and out of the way of his grasp by Oscar and Serra. Her body acted as a barrier, forcing Emrys behind her as she flinched away from Benjicot’s hand. 

Benjicot’s gaze was forced upon her by the action, a look of hurt crossing his features as he looked at her, “What the hell is going on here?” 

His gaze tore from hers to the sound of Willem’s voice, stood behind Oscar with Kermit and Lord Elmo, who appeared visibly annoyed by the disruption -- the music had since ceased and all eyes were now on the group who was all heavy breathing and oblivious to the attention their argument had drawn to themselves. Serra quickly stepped away from Emrys, whose hand had instinctively found her elbow, her gaze down as Willem’s eyes focused on the simple gesture with a confused frown. 

“Did you have any intention of telling me my father had taken it upon himself to go off to battle?” Benjicot curtly questioned. 

His uncle hesitated, “Yes, we were going to tell you in the morning. Though I was not expecting you to return tonight, nephew,” He slowly explained. “You were expected to be busy with your… new wife.” 

He tensed, jaw clenching as he roughly shoved Henry’s arm off of him, “And yet here I am.” 

“It appears so,” Willem responded, his tone firmer now. 

“Why did you not join him, then?” He asked. 

“I was given strict instruction to remain here.” 

Benjicot let out a bitter laugh, “For what reason?” 

“To ensure you remain here, should you be stupid enough try to ride out and join your father.” 

Benjicot stared at him, stunned by the admittance as they stood in silence. He shifted his stance uncomfortably, looking around at the crowd that watched, looking down suddenly before he looked up after a long pause, “Why would he do that?” 

Willem sighed, “Because he knows you, Benjicot.” He said, slowly stepping past the young Tully’s and towards his nephew, “As do I. We cannot afford to possibly lose more than is already at stake, especially when that involves the heir, should he be slain in battle.”

He felt like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum over not getting whatever it was they wanted, swallowing thickly as his face burned with shame and clenching his fists at his sides, “We cannot guarantee Serra is with child yet, even if the marriage was successfully consummated-- you remain the apparent heir until that happens. You are where you need to be, Benjicot,” He quietly explained, stepping closer until he was nearly shoulder-to-shoulder with him, “Safe and alive, as we need you. So please…do not make any more of a scene than you already have. Enjoy your wedding. Behave.” 

Benjicot felt the need to look down to avoid his gaze that was pinned to his face, looking down at him and speaking to him with that familiar edge his father possessed whenever he did something that was out of line like a petulant child, his voice calm and low enough that only he could hear it. He hated it with his father, but he hated it more coming from his uncle. He nodded after a moment. 

Willem mirrored his actions by nodding and forcing a strained smile as he muttered, “Good,” he said, turning to face the crowd and clasping a hand on his shoulder, “My apologies, honoured guests. There was just a misunderstanding, but it has been resolved. Please! Continue, enjoy yourselves!” 

His hand dropped from his shoulder, stepping past him to return to wherever he had come from, leaving him frozen in place -- Benjicot felt nauseous again, his heart pounding as he stared at his feet, unwilling to face his family and that of his wife’s that he knew had yet to move on from him; even the room hesitated to move past the scene. His uncle clapped his hands loudly, barking an order at the orchestra, causing the slow resumption of music that could not alleviate the tension within the room. 

There was a slow shuffle of feet, the crowd dispersing around him, “Benjicot?” Serra called out to him, her voice soft and quiet among the whispers. 

He watched as her feet appeared in front of him, visibly pausing before she reached out to him and pressed a hand to his chest, “Benjicot.” She repeated, attempting to gain his attention. 

He could feel every violent thrum of his heart against his ribs, feeling as though his head was trapped underwater while his eyes fixated on the hem of her dress. Her other hand came up to his cheek, her head ducking to find his eyes, “Look at me, Benjicot.” His eyes finally snapped up to hers, teeth and jaw clenched tightly, “It’s okay.” She softly said, her thumb brushing his cheek as his expression softened, leaning into her as if his life depended on it as his body gave out from beneath him. She wrapped an arm around him, her hand moving from his cheek to his nape and bearing his weight against her own.

“It’s okay.” She repeated.

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[littlejuicebox]

Labor and joy.

The moment all (some) of you have been waiting for. Welcome to the fanfic, baby Gale.

I'm tired so I'll do my usual header tomorrow when I have time to reformat everything. This will also be lightly edited. Ya'll got a double-feature tonight to make up for my lack of posting during my recovering from illness process.

Warnings: birth, labor, babies, light angst, light gore kinda

Disclaimer: I’ve never had a baby and I am not pregnant nor have I ever been so all this is based off friends, family, and research.

This was never ending. You had been in labor for half the day prior, and now it was well past midnight, but you still were not ready to push. Shadowheart had stepped away a few hours ago for rest. Halsin had since stepped in to take her place and did his best to stay unintrusive in the corner of your bedchambers; it was no easy task with his large frame.

Astarion had been forced to watch you for hours as your face contorted in pain. Contraction after contraction ripped through your frame, and every utterance of discomfort from you was met with soothing ministrations from your husband. He spent hours alternating between sitting beside you and behind you, offering support to the best of his ability as you endured the miserable labor pains.

No amount of screaming, crying, or massaging seemed to help. You were so exhausted, at this point you were barely making any noise as another contraction coursed through you. Sleep was not an option in this state, no matter how much you desired it. 

Astarion sat propped behind you in bed, utterly exhausted himself, and rubbing soothing circles in your back as you did what you could to focus on your breathing. He noted your nightgown was drenched in sticky pools of sweat as you rocked back and forth through sharp breaths, searching for an ounce of relief in the repetitive movement.

“My love, tell me what I can do to help.” He whispers, voice trembling with worry as he presses his long fingers firmly into your lower back, hoping to ease the tension, “I will do anything you ask of me.” 

You don’t respond. You can’t. You can barely breathe through the pain. And truthfully, you don’t know what will help. Nothing seems to at this point. Gods, you are so tired.

“Perhaps we should try a walk, Tav.” Halsin suggests, standing from his corner in the room to join you both by the side of the bed, “Let us head to the kitchen. Walking should ease the pain, and I will make you tea that can help with the contractions.” 

“You can’t be serious, druid!” Astarion snaps, unable to contain his mounting concern for his little love, “Just look at her! I don’t think Tav is in any position to–” 

You haphazardly place a flimsy, trembling warning hand on Astarion’s face and the rest of your husband’s admonishment dies on his lips. You simply nod at Halsin, and gesture for the other elf to help you out of the bed. Two large arms pull you up with relative ease, and you sigh with some relief as the sudden change to standing removes some pain from your lower back.

Astarion moves to follow you, and you wordlessly shake your head as you lean further into the druid. His brows crinkle in a silent question as he watches you; he thinks he’s done something wrong.

Your eyes soften for a moment, and you offer the slightest smile you can muster through your unbelievable discomfort. Your voice is a hoarse whisper when you say, “Stay here, my love. You need a short break. I will be back in mere moments; Halsin can watch over me until then.”

“Tav, it is my job to–” Astarion starts, about to argue the point with you, but Halsin is quick to cut in.

“It is your job to support Tav how she asks you to throughout this process and listen to her desires and needs.” The druid responds, kindly but firmly, offering an encouraging nod to your husband, “We will be but rooms away.” 

The silver-haired elf takes in a sharp breath as he watches your face nervously, mustering all of his patience to acquiesce. The druid is right. Astarion knows it. Your husband nods slowly and sighs while using every ounce of self control within his body to lean back and settle into the bed once again, “If you are certain, my love, then very well. Call for me with the bell, should you two need anything.” 

Halsin grabs the bell from the side table and nods with a final reassuring look at Astarion. And then the two of you begin the slow journey to the kitchen, the druid’s large frame easily bearing the majority of your weight. Your limbs feel like lead beneath you, but the pain is significantly lessened as you pace down the hallway.

Thank the gods for small miracles.

Before long, you are sipping tea in the kitchen as Halsin works to distract you from another vicious contraction with a story about Arabella and Mol. Your head tilts back as you chuckle– the first laugh you’ve had all night. Suddenly, you feel copious amounts of warm, thick fluid dripping down your legs.

“H-halsin, I think it’s time to push.” You gasp, staring down incredulously at the puddle now pooling around your feet. 

“Are you certain, Tav? Shall I check?” Halsin offers, quickly coming to your side, and you shake your head vehemently, far too embarrassed to let the druid perform such an exam, no matter his level of professionalism.

“No— just ring the bell, it will bring Shadowheart and Astarion.” You hiss as another powerful contraction assaults your body, paired with the overwhelming sensation of intense pressure in your pelvis. You are clutching the swell of your abdomen and leaning over the counter as you breathe through the feeling. You don’t know how you know it’s time, but you’re quite certain.

Halsin obliges, and moments later both Shadowheart and Astarion are bursting through the kitchen doors. Shadowheart is in her nightclothes, and her white hair is flying around her shoulders as she makes her way to you. Astarion is wide-eyed in panic on the heels of the cleric, his curls just as disheveled and pajamas crinkled from the stress of the night.

“I think– I think it’s time to push.” You grimace, and Shadowheart quickly performs an exam to confirm your suspicions.

Astarion’s face is creased with some mixture of relief and apprehension as he rubs your back and murmurs, “Come, darling, let’s get you back to the bedroom and–”

But he startles because you’re screaming as another contraction rips through you, practically compelling you to push. And you’re certain there’s no time to move. You’re adamant that you have to push right now, that you want to deliver right here in the middle of the kitchen. You aren’t moving. You can’t move. You need to push. Now.

Now. Now. Now. Now. 

Halsin is quickly behind you as you instantly move to a half squat. His arms thread underneath your armpits, supporting you as you bear down. Shadowheart is hastily searching through drawers, looking for linens and other materials to spread beneath you in an attempt to contain the growing mess of liquid as you wail and continue to push as if life depends on it. 

In some ways, it does.

Nothing has ever prepared you for this feeling. No book, not even the several you read on the subject, could ever adequately describe it. 

“I don’t— what do I do?! What should I do?!” Astarion is barely containing his own panic, frozen in place and flitting his gaze between Halsin and Shadowheart as the two work around you with the easy expertise of two healers that have performed this task more than once.

“Get ready to catch the baby, you git!” Shadowheart hisses as she shoves Astarion down into the nest of linens she’s spread around the floor.

“Catch the– WHAT–” Astarion shouts, but then the cleric is grabbing his head, forcing him to look upwards, and he’s peering under your nightdress with wild eyes. The baby is crowning. All Astarion sees is a shock of silvery-white curls.

“Oh! Oh gods! Tav, I see Gale’s head!” He exclaims, somehow both panicked and excited as he awkwardly positions his shaking arms in the way Shadowheart directs.

The cleric has dropped down to her knees beside your husband, and the two of them are watching as you continue to push with renewed vigor, encouraged by your husband’s exclamations. 

There is a long moment where you feel sure you’re ripping in two, and you almost give up, but then a sudden feeling of relief washes over your body. The kitchen is filled with the wails of a new infant.

When you open your eyes, the first thing you see is Astarion, his curls wild, his face wide eyed and shocked, and his arms covered in various fluids and vernix. And then you see your little wriggling baby, covered in that same fluid, wailing at the top of their lungs. Their little shrieks sound like music to your ears.

Halsin is gently lowering you to the ground and into the nest of linens as you slowly come out of the fog of pain and overwhelm. Astarion is both crying and beaming as he places the infant in your arms before pressing a loving kiss to your temple. He’s trembling with the inexplicable wave of emotions flowing through his system as he whispers to you, “My love, look, just look at our beautiful baby boy. You did so well, darling.”

You are crying and speechless as you stare down at your newborn. You didn’t think you could love anything in the world more than you loved your husband. But now you know you were wrong.

Later, after all three of you have been cleaned up and relocated to your bedchambers, you feel Astarion’s body shaking from where he sits behind you as Gale attempts his first feed. You are sitting between your husband's legs, your back leaning against his chest. A sideways glance reveals he is laughing.

“What is so funny, Astarion?” You ask quietly, still aglow and in a haze from the hormones pumping their way through your system.

“It’s just… our child, named after Gale, the man that was once our camp cook and would never shut up about food, would decide it best to be born in the kitchen.” Astarion responds with another chuckle as he brings his hand to stroke the cheek of the little baby in your arms.

Astarion studies the newborn’s two pointed ears, ten fingers, ten toes, and the little curls on the baby’s head as he speaks, “And our Gale absolutely drenched me in blood and guts in our kitchen – something I’d never been willing to do in the camp kitchen for his namesake.”

You chuckle softly as your little one utters a soft coo of assent in your arms, slowly drifting to sleep as he suckles. 

“I’m sure that will be one of many firsts, my love.” You say through a yawn, caught between the warmth of your newborn and your husband. The comforting sensation is lulling you to sleep; it is truly a wonder you’ve managed to stay awake this long. Gale is still nursing intently in his slumber, searching for the nutrients only you can provide.

The silver-haired elf emits a happy hum as he wraps his arms underneath yours, content to hold his two little loves and watch over them as they both rest. He will sleep later, he thinks. But for now, reality is better than any dream his mind can conjure.

As the first rays of morning light peek through the bedroom window, Astarion realizes his newborn son’s name is more than fitting, because it perfectly describes his feelings in this moment.

Joy. Absolute joy.

[descendantsramblings]

OMG I just read you fic where Hook drinks the love spell and I need either a part 2 where we see the relationship out of the love spell or another Needy!Hook x Fem! Reader please please please 🙏🙏🙏

Nothing like some fluff to pull me out of my writer’s block ❤️

This is just Hook being needy tbh but if you want to see it as a part two to that story it could easily fit into that category

Edited this to Banana Pancakes by Jack Johnson on repeat, it adds to the experience

Wake Up Slow

Needy!James Hook x Reader

Pronouns used: she/her/hers

Summary: everyone needs a place to be fully relaxed, James found his in soft duvets and needy touches

Warnings: no plot just fluff, gentle make out session, Morgie is not rocking with their odd behavior - he just wants people to be normal around him and instead they keep saying odd shit

Word Count: 1.7K

    It was in no way a rare sight, (Y/n) and Hook taking up the same space in his bed. The couple a mess of limbs, you’d have to squint to trace the lines of legs to know whose were whose under the thick maroon duvet. It had been late last night when the two stumbled in, up far past the point of exhaustion and giggling messes. Hair still slightly damp with enchanted water and clothes far more casual than anything that either party would let the general public see them in. The two barely keeping their laughter down to avoid waking the sleeping sorcerer who took up the bed next to his. Too focused on each other, on the hands that found their places on shoulders or wrists. Falling into the bed with exhausted smiles and soft, touchy hands. Hook’s face buried into her chest as he drags her closer, letting out a little whine as he waits on her to hold him back. (Y/n) nuzzling her nose into his hair and wrapping her arms tightly around his shoulders, cooing nonsense to him as she sleepily clings to her boyfriend. Tangled, intertwined, two bodies as close as they could possibly manage to become before morphing into one. Warm and safe, the most comfortable home the pirate had ever known. Maybe it was the only one he'd ever known, in moments like that he felt like he could never be too sure.

   Or perhaps, in moments like this were when he felt that way. He’s always the first to stir awake, the sun making its way into his dreams. Waking him with a heated gentleness he couldn’t ignore. Hook didn’t mind being woken up to this view though. Hard to be bothered by the sight of that little white tank top so close to his face. With collar bones and the slightest ghost of cleavage nearly pressed to him, skin on display and within his reach. He can’t help himself but to nuzzle his nose against the same exposed flesh he fell asleep against. Dragging the touch slowly over her skin with the ghost of a smile. He thinks he’ll remember the way she smells for the rest of his life. Not something identifiable, yet he’d be able to recognize the scent on anything. It was intoxicating, pulling him in and seemingly lighting his senses on fire. Just as much as he couldn’t help nuzzling against her, the soft, ghost-like kisses that follow the motion come naturally. Lips brushing across her chest and collar bones, his head raising ever so slightly to press a few soft pecks to her exposed shoulders. Lazy and soft, hoping not to wake her as he takes her in. James was pretty sure he could stay like this until the Earth quit turning. There was nothing like the slow and soft pace of lazy mornings next to someone he loved. Even the seven seas held no candle to having her so, so close. He’d give his ship to wake up slowly with her every morning. For breakfast in bed and wasting days away on her chest. 

     He’s letting soft kisses fall back over previous ones when she stirs against him. A hand sliding up his back and tangling slightly in the boy’s sleep mussed hair. She tugs on it slightly, guiding the boy to show her his face. She’s beautiful, even with sleep dotting her eyes and her hair splayed out around her in messy tangles. As she moves her hands from around him to rest on his face, James is pretty sure the correct word to describe her is actually enchanting. The first kiss she places on his face falls onto his forehead, more dotting down across him as if she’s on a half-awake mission to make him melt. Peppering soft adoring touches across his face like that was the only thing she’d been put on that planet to do. His hand grips at her top, fisting the material as he lets out what can only be described as a whine. 

   “Kiss me, please?” His voice is deeper than normal, gravely with sleep as he nearly begs her to end his gentle torment. She can’t help but give in, slightly chapped lips finding his pouting ones for a tender kiss. Lips moving against each other’s in a languid and gentle pattern. She pulls away for a moment, giggling softly as the boy whimpers at the loss of contact. (Y/n) wiggles down on his bed, putting them nose to nose. She nuzzles against his softly, a sweet smile crossing her lips as she props herself up on one arm. Leaning over James as she swoops back into his lips, connecting them again as his head lulls back to give her better access to him. They pick up right where they left off, that pattern coming back to them like soft, exhausted kisses were second nature to them. They basically were though, this little display came far too easily to them. It was their preferred state of being, much to all of their friends' playful dismay. His hand drags from where it was bunched up in her shirt to rest on her shoulder, slightly pulling her down to get her closer to him as his tongue finds its way between her lips. She’s humming into his mouth, tucking the hand that isn’t holding her up back into his hair to tug at it from the root. 

    Both teens are breathless as they pull away from one another, (Y/n) letting herself fall back onto the mattress, smiling at the way his eyes stay shut. A smile pressed to his kiss reddened lips as she adjusts her head back onto his pillows. James lets those big dark eyes flutter back open, flickering over her as he moves back onto his side. “Com’ere.” She’s pretty sure that his mumble is supposed to be two solid words, but the half awake boy is sewing his words together as he reaches back out for her. The girl lets out a giggle, scooting closer to him and lifting her side ever so slightly for his arm to slide under her ribcage. Hers tuck back around him, one under his neck and one over his side. Fingers finding his hair to play with the ends of silky strands as she nuzzles her nose against the top of his head. A needy hand slips under the back of her tank top, tugging her as close as he can manage. The entirety of their bodies are pressed together, Hook’s forehead tucked against the top of her shoulder, his head just barely touching the pillow. 

    They don’t talk, they don’t need to, everything they could ever need to say is slipping between them from just the physical affection. I’m here for you, I’ve got you. You’re so loved, you mean so much to me. I never want to lose you. James’ lips brush over her collarbone again and she laughs, feeling him attempt to pull her closer than they already are. Legs tangling as he hooks his knee around her thigh. Completely wrapped into him and his adoration of her, as if they might just be the only people in the world. As if she’s the only girl in his world. 

    “You are the neediest boy I have ever met.”  His eyes flash up to her face, taking in the glow that covers her features as she laughs at him. Looking down at him from their tangled closeness. He could connect their lips again, she has them so close, just there for him to take them. “You love it.” Another kiss falls onto her collar bone as he nuzzles back against her. “I think you’d morph our bodies into one if you could,” the words are a coo, the air of her laughter still drenching her tone. He smirks, rolling his eyes just past where she can see it. And then, with a sarcastic and playful air he seems to agree, “I’d crawl into your skin if I could.” 

   “What?” The shout is accompanied by the sound of bed springs creaking as Morgie le Fay forces himself up in his bed. Book falling to the floor from his sudden movement. His bewildered tone causes the couple across the room from him to break out in giggles. James’ laughter sends hot puffs of air across her chest with every shake of his shoulders. Her own breath messing up his hair as her laughter blows the strands around. “You two are the most bizarre people I have met in my entire life,” Morgie is getting up from his bed now, tugging his shoes on with one hand while the other reaches back down for the novel he’s reading. “I mean seriously, who in their right mind tells their partner that they want to crawl into their skin? What, are you going to tell her next? That you want to curl up in her ribcage?” 

    Hook’s laughter gets heavier, words coming out on heaving breaths, “It doesn’t sound like the worst idea. Bet it’s nice and warm in there, I could be all snuggled up to her heart. Love hearing her heartbeat.” Morgie lets out the most exacerbated huff she’s ever heard, hands flying around his head wildly as he does. “See, who in their right mind says that? What is wrong with you?” The boy storms out of the room, book in hand as the couple on the bed fall into each other laughing. A duo of crashing limbs and shaking shoulders as the air in their lungs dwindles. Tears in their eyes with shaky breaths as they finally calm down. Letting out little sighs as they come back down from the emotional high. 

    “Oh, that poor boy is terrified of us, you have terrified your little friend.” Hook hums, leaning back to look at her face, “He’ll be okay.” There’s a moment that the two of them don’t speak, instead letting hungry eyes eat up the other. A plump lip finds its way between Hook’s teeth, big dark eyes trained on her lips as if he was a starving animal looking at prey. She can feel it, brow quirking as the corners of her mouth curling up into a smirk, “You wanna make out again?” And who would he be to say no?

[ghostybaby000]

After Hours | Part 1

Part 2

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Summary: Working has already made you feel exhausted, not to mention an awful manager making it far worse. You find yourself wanting to quit, that is until a tall masked figure gives you a reason to stay.

Word Count: 1.6k Warnings: 18+, violent theme, guns, yelling, future smut

(Not fully edited, apologies for any inconsistencies!)

It was that time again, 7am. You grab your keys and purse, a coffee and a muffin to go making your way out of your home you head to work. You take the same route as always being sure to say hello to the other workers when you pull into the lot. You gather your items and head inside to the same front desk and chair waiting for you, that had been there the past 2 years without fail. You get yourself situated setting up your notepad for any callers and sip on your coffee relaxing into the chair. 

You sit up to look more professional watching as two larger men walk in the door holding guns.

‘What can I do for you this morning?’ You smile to them, as they had been frequent customers at this smaller gun range for quite some time. They come over to you, pleased as always to see a smiling face, they were still in their uniforms. The gun range was quite close to a military base, making military personal a regular.

‘Good morning Y/N, the regular please.’ You give them a small nod as you check them out and hand them a golfcart key to get around the facility. They gave thanks and make their way outside, being sure to wave goodbye as they rounded the corner. You had worked here for quite some time, as your father had known many people that came to the range- they reached out needing help and you seemed fit. You went into the interview knowing that you didn’t have much knowledge on weapons or guns hoping they would give you a side job. The manager decided that would be best, and let you work up front with your ‘pretty face’ to attract customers. A small part of you took offense but you let it go, because you were excited to be working somewhere close to home and where you knew a few people. 

Working up front you didn’t have to handle any weapons or fix any issues with them either, you simply had to check people out and give them ammunition which you didn’t mind. You began to recognize others and slowly made yourself a good fit in their community, people reaching out with Christmas cards or asking about your wellbeing. One person had never done such a thing, and that was one of the men from the military. He didn’t have a name on his chest and always remained ominously quiet and vigilante, something you noticed quickly. He always came in with 2 or 3 other members in the group but had never showed alone which only making you more curious of him. Today he hadn’t shown, nor had the typical group of other tall strong men. 

You continued to check people out until the day had reached its end, and you were plenty tired ready to get some sleep. You made your way back to your car, packed up your belongings and headed back to your home. You got in the door and settled down making dinner and watching a show before getting to bed. You wake again to the small alarm clock on your bedside table, reaching over to gently turn it off, another day had started. You typically woke at 7 everyday as it made getting up for work easier, you started to make some breakfast and put on coffee, taking in some time to relax. A little later into the afternoon you received a text from a coworker asking if you could cover their shift as she was feeling unwell. You groan out as you fall back against the couch cushions, this was your day off and you just wanted to stay at home and relax. You knew though that they were understaffed and needed help whenever they could get it and that you wouldn’t say no. You gathered your things and headed back to the range, and thought to yourself that at least you got to make a good breakfast. 

On the drive over it dawns on you that you could be doing more from your job, not just working the front desk. You hadn’t ever been offered a promotion by the snobby manager and was quickly shut down the last time you mentioned it to them. You tried to not hold any sort of grudge against people, yet the way the manager spoke to you and the other workers made you feel as if you would quit on the spot after your interactions, although you never had. You stayed because the other workers needed your help, and you needed the income not to mention getting to see people that were close enough to be considered friends. You shook the thoughts from your head as you pulled onto the gravel pathway and parked. Getting inside and settled in a few minutes, you gaze around the shop and found it to be quiet and calm as the mornings tended to be.  

You help customers as the day progresses, making small chit chat being sure to welcome everyone who comes in. The range wasn’t too busy today, only a few people every hour which you enjoyed as it gave you some time to clean the monitors you used and sweep the floor around you. 

You were sweeping up the last pile when you heard your manager begin yelling at someone from the office, with a slam of the door just down the hall. You groaned as you quickly picked up the small dirt pile you had accumulated and put it in the bin, moving to your work station swiftly. The manager now almost screaming at points of his argument, your palms begin to get sweaty and everything in you hopes that a customer doesn’t come in. You stand there nervously as people pass by the front door, you look away in hopes they won’t feel the need to come and say hello.

SLAM the phone had been hung up, making you wince as it did. You tried to act normally and as if you didn’t hear anything when you heard his office door open. You didn’t dare to ask him what it was about knowing that it would only blow up in your face, so you decide to start typing away at the computer. His boots came thudding down the small hallway as you tried to take deep breaths, telling yourself to not look his way. He stops right next to you, still huffing from yelling on the phone.

‘Where’s Catherine?’ He glares at you when you stop typing and start to look over at him, he was sweating from yelling and quite red too. 

‘Well.. she texted me saying-‘

‘I didn’t ask what she texted you- where is she?’ His tone grew more firm as he leaned in closer to you.

‘She said she wasn’t feeling well so I came in to cover for her shift…’ You now had your hands placed on your lap looking between him and down to the floor, afraid of the man that stood in front of you and how he would react.

‘well that’s just GREAT.’ He slams his hands on the counter and begins to pace the small area in front of the desk, then moving them to cover his face. 

‘She should have contacted me. Not you, ME then I could have told her that someone would cover for her- and it wouldn’t of been you.’ He looks at you when he stops pacing. You furrow your brows and look back to the floor.

‘See, you’re going into overtime now- you’re meant to only be part time which means I have to pay more!’ His voice was now booming through the small building while you sat quietly looking down to your hands in your lap or the desk, anything that wasn’t able to yell back at you. 

‘You know what, don’t come in next week. I-I cant afford it now thanks to Catherine.’ You look up now, you couldn’t miss work for a week, you had mortgage due soon and electric bills to pay and you had to buy groceries-

‘I cant miss work that long I have mortgage due this next week…could I come in for just a few hours?’ You regretted saying the words as they left your lips, watching as a smile grew over his face as he walked towards you. Your own eyes began to feel hot and watery but you wouldn’t let yourself cry. 

‘You can’t pay bills? No, I can’t pay bills! Not with people like you going overtime behind my back-you…you can afford to miss work your job isn’t essential around here! I can manage to ring people out for a while and eat a muffin at the same time- You can’t even use a gun properly and you think your fit to work here!?-‘ His tangent quickly cut off making the room feel a whole lot more quiet. The tears welting in your eyes that he couldn’t see had dropped to your pants. The door had opened and the same group of 3 had walked into the building wearing their uniforms, they must have checked in earlier this morning before you’d arrived. He immediately backs away from the counter to simply tapping his thumbs on the desk attempting to act casually. He was even more red now not that the customers could see, as he stared you down.

‘Alright. You lock up, I’m going home.’ He turns to face the customers now. ‘And you gentlemen, we are closing soon but please just ask Y/N for anything you need, have a good night.’ He walks back the office where the door now gently closed as you heard him gathering his things preparing to leave. 

You were sure they had heard the manager through the door, there’s no way they hadn’t. Yet if they had heard, they were acting as if it was the same as any other day- except the one with the mask. He was looking at you for quite some time across the room before the group came up to the desk. 

[emmyspov]

Prioritise yourself (Thranduil x Reader)

author's note: happy easter to everyone who celebrates it and a happy weekend to all either way🪻this is honestly one of the most scary things i've posted because it's something so personal that i relate to a lot, but i thought maybe someone else might need it, too🥺 please always remember that nothing will ever be more important than your health and well-being 🩷

warnings: symptoms of burnout, lack of sleep, exhaustion, negative self-talk, skipping meals, mentions of food, nudity (for taking a bath together) - please please please let me know if I forgot something! 🩷

word count: 1.9k

edit is mine, all pics are from pinterest :)

It had seemed like a smart idea when you offered Thranduil to help him with all the paperwork.

His days were filled with meetings and more often than not he only returned to your chambers once it was dark already.

So, for the past few months, you had been - more or less secretly - helping him with whatever you could: sending out invitations to other royals, filing away documents, re-writing contracts so all that would be left to do was sign them.

You were the king's partner after all and you wanted to help him as much as possible. This was your kingdom, your home, as much as it was his, as he regularly reminded you.

Thranduil noticed, obviously. The hours in his study were reduced since most things were taken care of in a perfect way already - he could return to your private rooms right after dinner and spend time with you instead which the Elvenking appreciated immensely.

However, over the past few weeks, things have taken a turn. And Thranduil noticed that, too.

How, on some days, you would get up earlier than him, how you would skip lunch and dinner with him - although it was one of your favorite things since you got to spend it with one another during your otherwise busy schedules - and instead eat by yourself, hunched over some papers. He noticed your tired eyes and dull skin and- lack happiness, to cut it short.

Worry didn't even remotely describe what he was feeling. He felt sick to his stomach when he thought about you being unhappy.

Today was no different.

You had gotten up before sunrise, leaving your husband a little love letter, before entering your own study to take care of all official things.

There was a lot to do. Other elves as much as people from Laketown and even dwarves were sending letters, hoping to schedule a meeting with the king himself to talk over whatever was bothering them.

You made it your mission to answer every single one of them, noting down appointments and also sending out excuses if Thranduil wasn't the right one to talk to when it came to certain matters.

By the end of the day, your head was pounding. You let out a yawn and rubbed your eyes, hoping to relieve some of the pressure behind them, but to no use.

Closing them for only a minute wouldn't hurt. You could still look for your husband afterwards.

A line had been crossed for the Elvenking.

It was the second day in a row that you skipped your shared meals and from what he just learned, you weren't eating them at all.

He needed to talk to you. He wouldn’t - and couldn’t - let you destroy yourself over some work. Your happiness and well being came first and he would make you realise that, no matter the cost.

After reaching your study and receiving no answer to his knocks, he let himself in with determined steps, only to stop abruptly as soon as he saw your sleeping figure. His eyes softened immediately.

"Oh, meleth."

With two big steps, he was by your side, crouching down until he was on eye level with you. Even in your sleep, you looked stressed, your eyebrows scrunched up, reminding him of the times you woke up from a bad dream.

"What are you doing to yourself, hm?"

Gentle, as if you would break like glass if he touched you with too much force, he picked you up and carried you out of the room and into your shared bed chamber where he set you down on the soft mattress and covered you with a fluffy blanket.

Thranduil left the room again for only a few moments so he could blow out the candle in your study and put everything where it belonged. He himself hated to work at a messy desk and didn't want you to deal with the same thing once you would return to work, although he didn't want to think about that yet. For now, you needed rest and all the love and care you could get.

He returned to your bedroom after he spoke to some of his subordinates to let them know neither he nor you would be available in the next three days.

You were still fast asleep, curled up into the blanket. The king walked over to you and slowly began to remove all your uncomfortable clothing before he himself put on a night gown.

Only then did he lay down next to you, carefully maneuvering your body into his arms, your head on his chest. Even in your sleep you wrapped your arm around his waist and entangled your legs, letting out a small sigh.

"Sleep, meleth, you've been working too hard", your husband whispered and brought his delicate fingertips up to brush some hair out of your face before letting them trail down to your back, rubbing some calming circles into your shoulder. "I'll watch over you, I promise."

And Thranduil kept his word.

He stayed up to make sure you slept through the night, occasionally pressing a kiss to your temple or the top of your head while his fingers were always touching you in some way.

It was nearly lunch time when you woke up the next day.

After noticing you were still cuddled up with your husband although the sun was already shining into the room, you immediately sat up.

"I- I overslept, oh Varda, there is so much to do. Why didn’t you wake me, my love?"

With a gentle force, Thranduil pressed you back onto the mattress.

"You've been overworking yourself for weeks and your health and happiness are suffering in return. I told everyone we wouldn't be available for the next few days. For the foreseeable future, we'll only take care of you."

You didn't want to cry. And you tried really hard to keep the tears at bay, but when the Elvenking looked at you with so much love in his eyes, you couldn’t stop them.

"I'm sorry for failing you, my king."

The elf wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. "Oh meleth, no. No, you didn't fail me, you never have. And you never will."

"I can't even take care of myself", you hiccuped, burying your face in the crook of his neck. "It's like the work and the pressure never stop and I'll never be good enough and now I am sitting here, crying to you, a literal king who has way more responsibility than me. I am so sorry to burden you with this."

Thranduil's heart was breaking. He couldn't believe this was how you saw yourself when, to him, you were the most beautiful being in all of Middle Earth.

"You are never a burden to me. Do you hear me? Never. We can fix this. You have to learn how to prioritise yourself. I can teach you. I will teach you. And we will start right now. You must be hungry, what do you want to eat?"

You fumbled around with your hands before looking up at the Elvenking. "Could I have some pancakes?"

Thranduil leaned forward to press a kiss against your nose. "Whatever you want, meleth nîn."

With one swift motion, he got up, put on one of his majestic robes and made his way to the kitchen to order your beloved pancakes and some additional treats as well as some hot and cold beverages.

He returned to your chambers with a first tray of food, watching your face lit up with delight at the sweet smell.

"Here you go, my love. Eat as much as you want and take all the time you need. There are no other things that need to get done today or the next few days."

You nodded and grabbed a plate, happily munching on the food the servants were bringing in over time.

The king was watching you carefully while he himself ate something. It was more than obvious that all the food was good for your mind, body and soul.

You let yourself fall back against the sheets when you were done, letting out a satisfied sigh. "That was good."

"It is about to get better. What do you think of a bath?"

Your eyes lit up. "Right now?"

The elf couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle. "Is that what you want?"

You sat up, enthusiastically bouncing on the mattress and nodding your head. "Yes, please!"

Thranduil stood up again and walked into the bathroom, filling the tub with hot water and your favourite bath salts and flower petals before coming back to you.

With ease, he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off the bed, carrying you into the bathroom.

"Arms up", he ordered gently and removed your clothing, doing the same to himself afterwards.

"You're so handsome", you breathed out as you softly pressed your hand against his chest, right above his heart. "I'm so lucky to have you."

Thranduil's heart started to beat faster under your touch and praise and you smiled, feeling butterflies in your stomach at the fact that you still had this effect on him.

He lifted you into the tub, setting you down and lowering himself behind you, pulling your body flush against his chest.

"I'm the lucky one."

You shook your head before letting it fall back against his shoulder. "You take care of me when I can't do it myself."

The king's deft fingers brushed through your hair, letting them trail down your arm. "We take care of each other. You are the one who decreased my work load so I'd have more time."

You intertwined your hands. "Well, of course. I want you to be well."

A kiss was pressed against the top of your head. "Do you see my point?"

You nodded. "I think I do."

Thranduil let his thumb brush over the back of your hand. "Tomorrow, we can take a walk in the garden and look at all the blossoming flowers. Or we can do whatever else will make you happy."

A smile graced your lips. "Just being with you makes me happy."

Gently, the ellon grabbed your chin and turned your head around so he could kiss you. You melted into his embrace, smiling against his lips.

"Gi melin", he whispered after you two had parted for air and you replied with the same sentiment.

Once you two had soaked in the water for a while, the Elvenking grabbed your shampoo and lathered up his hands before bringing them up to your scalp to work in the product.

The more time you spend like this with your husband - in your little bubble of happiness and safety - the lighter your heart felt.

And it only got better when Thranduil's hands wandered down your head to your neck and shoulders, massaging your tense muscles to help you relax even further.

You shuddered and the king grinned to himself. He was just as pleased as you were earlier that his touch could, still, make you weak in the knees.

"Rest, meleth", he whispered as he continued to work on your upper back. "There will be time to talk about long-term adjustments and solutions, but for now, you can let yourself fall. I'll be there to catch you."

Everything-Taglist: @shadowhuntyi @asgardianhobbit98 @fizzyxcustard

-> if you want to be added or removed from my taglist, just shoot me a message or an ask 🩷

[kifflepiffles]

Festival Skipper

Sam x AFAB (neutral terms) reader

Because I'm a new Sam simp and realised you guys are STARVING

Word count: 5.7k

Content: Praise, softdom Sam, smutty hurt/comfort, and tbh a lot of goofing around because I doubt Sam would be super serious AKJSHD Also because I just never really liked dirty talking that much

I'll edit this post more and post this to A03 later... I'm going to eep, it's past my bedtime

Update: its up on A03! And if you wanted more immersion, heres the playlist I listened to while writing this AKAHSH

Shoutout to @loverboykirstein for letting me use your banner -7-;;

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

Winters in the valley were always calm and slow. Quiet and beautiful, the villagers embraced the icy scenes while waiting for their home to come back to life. 

Calm, slow, quiet, and beautiful were all things that [y/n] had gotten used to over the past year of living on their grandfather’s old farm. A calm environment, a slower life, and quiet, beautiful surroundings had dissolved all of the ailments they lived with on a daily basis in Pine-Messa city. The hopelessness, the burn-out, the anxiety and insatiable exhaustion had been left in their Joja cubicle. 

But winter was different. This was an all-consuming, eerie kind of quiet. you had only started getting fully used to the brand new silence and slow living in the fall. You were far from ready to be plunged head-first into the abyss that is Pelican Town’s winters. There was genuinely nothing to do, and you couldn’t stand it. The Adventurer’s Guild has been your saving grace. It was something to keep you busy. But lately, you have been a bit too busy for comfort.

The usually cheery and social farmer had seemingly gone missing for a few days. The guild has given you a quest that they thought you were ready for, but you proved to be in over your head, even if you wouldn’t admit it. 150 slimes needed to be slain by the end of the week. Today was the last day, and you had only dealt with 90. Marlon was annoyed, and had given you a stern talk about the guild policy.

 “These slimes are breeding like rabbits!” He would hiss, “If they head upwards, guess what? The town is fucked, [y/n]. fucked!” His voice grit in the farmer’s skull like sandpaper. Your teeth grinded with rage over Marlon’s thoughtless blame. 

For the first time in days, you had plopped down on your living room couch and unlocked your phone. What seemed like hundreds of notifications flooded in. Missed texts from Abby, from Sam, even from Sebastian. Arching a brow, you scrolled down on the notification block to read more

Rock Eater

[Image]

[image]

[image]

3

Johnnie Gilbert’s lookalike

Where are you?

 I thought you would like the ice festival :(

Dog Boy

[Y/N]!!!

WHERE ARE YOU?? >_<

YOU NEED TO KICK WILLY’S ASS AT FISHING

PLEASE I MADE A BET WITH SEB I CAN’T LOSE

+17

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself. You had been so caught up in the slime bounty that you completely forgot one of the festivals. It sounded like a fun one, too. It was a tradition older than Pelican Town itself. The festival started as a ritual to ward off winter depression, but it was given the Christmas treatment and now centered around ice carving, fishing and shopping. Abigail even sent a picture of the Gotoran cart merchant’s pig in a little jacket.

With a heavy sigh, you tossed your phone to the other side of the couch and rubbed your face. you’d answer them later. Right now, the last thing you wanted was to explain why you were gone. So why not pretend to be gone for a few more hours? It’s already been days. 

Slumping down against the plush of the couch, [y/n] turned on the new TV you had just bought from Robin, a smart TV in limited stock. You knew you had to grab one while you could; Tech products like that were a bit of a rarity in the valley. They were hard to get unless you wanted to travel to the cities, or pay a ridiculous shipping fee. 

Curling up against the armrest with a blanket, your brain went on autopilot as a streaming service booted so you could watch a comfort show. With your head resting on the armrest like it was a pillow, you found your arms clutching over your torso. Usually a plushy would sit there, but you couldn’t be bothered to get up. You didn’t even notice your blinks slowly becoming longer, filled with tranquility, until…

knockknockknockknockknock

The heavy, yet gentle knocking had made you jump out of your skin. Your eyes darted around as your body tried to come back to life. Hesitantly, you let your legs leave the blanket.

Knockknockknockknock

“Just a sec-!” you called out whilst scurrying to your feet. Oh Yoba, please don’t be Lewis asking for bills or Pam asking for more homemade alcohol. 

You quickly tried to fix your clothes and hair as they walked over to the door. You needed to look somewhat presentable if you wanted to avoid excusing your disappearance. Upon opening the door, A heavy load flew off your shoulders; It was just Sam

“Oh thank fuck,” you huffed. your heart rate slowed and you let your head rest on his shoulder. 

Your friendship was odd. You two were close. Really close. Not to say you weren’t also close to Sebastian and Abby, but this was… different. You were touchy. Everyone but you two acknowledged the tension and hesitance. 

“Hey,” Sam whispered, lazily wrapping a heavy arm around you. . His skin was cold, chilled to the bone from the frigid night. “I left the festival early to check on you. I… haven’t heard from you in days, I was getting worried,”

“Sorry,” you whined, “It's been… rough,” you sighed. A breeze flew by, causing both of you to shudder. “Here, come in, maybe I’ll start something in the kettle,” you invited, Which Sam quickly obliged. 

“Really? That’d be awesome, thank you so much [y/n]! You got any more of that mint hot chocolate? It was sick!” He suggested, closing the door behind him with his foot

“I can do that,” you hummed, grabbing your kettle off the stove and filling it in the sink

A shiver ran through Sam’s bones as removed his snow boots, leaving them at the door and made his way to the couch while you were occupied with the drinks. While sitting down, he rubbed his hands together and sighed into them in a sad attempt to warm them, 

“Um… Where have you been again?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you as you returned and sat next to him. You paused and took a breath. Did you really want to open these flood gates?

“Marlon,” you finally grumbled, “Adventurer’s guild stuff. Slimes are breeding like crazy, which is odd because they usually don’t start until Spring. They’re starting to infest entire floors and rise closer to the surface. We’ll keep it under control but… Spring might be rough. I might need to cut back on my crop load” you vented. The release made you release tension in your face that you didn’t know you had., Sam’s smile contorted into a look of worry.

“Holy shit, dude. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you insisted as you rubbed your face with open hands, as if attempting to scrub off the stress and sleep deprivation “Just,, hnnnggff,” You leaned forward, placing Your elbows on your own knees. “Marlon’s been on my ass, dude. Bad,”

“That’s not fair, he was at the festival earlier,”

“He was?” you snapped up with wide eyes

“Yeah! he cheered Willy on for the fishing competition,”

Suddenly, you felt your blood run hot, “That motherfucker,” you hissed. As if timed for this exact moment, the kettle began to whistle, and Sam had tried his best to keep his giggling quiet

In a swift motion, you stood from the couch and made your way over to the kitchen, “I’ll put arsenic in your drink,” you threatened as you opened the cupboard and grabbed two mugs along with the box of powdered drink mix. As grumpy as you were, his laughter was contagious. You needed to bite the inside of your cheek and clench your jaw to avoid giggling with him

“Aww, come ooon. You know you love me,” Sam teased. you rolled your eyes, ignoring the fact he was kind of right

“Please,” you giggled. After a few noises from the kitchen, you returned with two steaming mugs in hand and placed them on the coffee table. you plopped down beside your best friend, a heavy, slow sigh leaving your lips, “That mother fucker… was he seriously there?”

Sam tilted his head and hummed a curt “Hm?” 

“Marlon,” you whined. You shifted in your spot, then leaned your head on his shoulder. Sam’s eyes darted down at you. He had to admit, he felt a bit of pity for you. How could he not?. With a slow breath, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and nodded

“Yeah. He was. … Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just… ugh, forget it,”you grumbled. You snuggled into your friend’s body, wanting to hide from the rest of the world with him. His jacket had just been washed, but the smell of weed still lingered under the faint scent of detergent. Domesticity was something that you had to admit you craved. It’s been a long time since you loved someone, and out of everyone in the small town, Sam may be your best candidate. You tilted your head up once you decided to stop hiding. Your gaze met his own for just a second before he anxiously looked away. A smirk tugged at your lips. You had to admit, his coyness was cute.

“I really missed you, y’know,” you commented. You kept your head down, but looked up through your eyelashes, a calculated puppy-eye to test the waters. Sam looked back down to you. A small smile joined the pink blush on his face

“Really? I mean, I uh, I really missed you, too,  [y/n]. I… I really did,” He stammered out with an embarrassed grin. Yoba, he was adorable. you snuggled closer, letting your hand rest on his thigh

“I like,, really missed you, Sammy

Sam’s eyes slowly widened as he started to realize what you were implying, “... Did you?” He whispered back, turning his body to face yours more, “...It really was quiet around here without you,”

Then there was silence. His wide, sweet blue eyes met yours, but you were focused on his lips. A precious mauve pink, complemented by the silver hoop filling his single lip piercing. The flesh looked smooth and soft, you couldn’t help but wonder if he had done that on purpose, in hopes you would kiss him one day. A slow blink adjusted your gaze to meet Sam’s eyes.

As if someone had told both of you that now was the moment, both of you leaned in. When your lips met, Sam’s hand moved to cup your cheek, just to feel a bit closer to you as his lips tingled from the contact.

Despite it being brief, the two of them had pulled away from the kiss with beaming grins and flushed faces. 

“... wow,” Sam whispered through shy giggles. How could you not share his laughter? He was so cute. If he had a tail, your drinks would be all over the floor and the mugs would be broken. His pretty eyes seemed to glisten in the light from the television and crackling fireplace, it being the only light in the whole cabin.

With a bright red face, Sam fidgeted with his hands, unsure of what to do next, let alone what he was allowed to do. He was terrified to overstep a boundary and ruin this moment, the kind he would dream of at night and wake up from in a wet spot. 

“Here Sammy, come here,” you whispered, placing your hands on top of his to guide him. his hands landed on your collarbone. You led him downwards, and directed his hands to cup your breasts. His eyes widened and his lips parted, making you giggle in a whisper

“Sam… are you… inexperienced?” you asked, trying to phrase it lightly. Sam swallowed, but seemed mesmerized by the warm, clothed flesh in his hands. He shook his head,

“Not exactly… just… It’s been a while. A long while, And I really like you,” he whispered. His eyes didn’t even twitch off of your body as his hands began to grope. Before you could question him, his eyes finally darted to your face. “Uh,, can I… is it okay if I keep touching you? I.. I want to explore a little bit," he asked. The sentence making its way past his lips was enough to feel himself swell into his jeans, the fit quickly becoming snug on him. With a smug grin, you nodded.

Sam leaned down, pushing you down into the couch. His irises seemed to tremble along with his hands as he took in the view beneath him. He couldn’t help but admire his beloved friend. You were prettier to him than anything his imagination could ever build. His fingertips snuck under your shirt, just to explore the body beneath it. A shiver ran up your spine from the contact, feeling the sensation get stronger and sweeter as his calloused pads ran upwards, then back down and towards the front, running down your ribcage and pausing at the belly button.

 Even though the sight and sensation was blissful, you continued to worry. You continued to worry about the trouble you may be in with the guild. Then you remembered the fun Marlon must’ve had at the festival you unwillingly missed… the fun he stole from you.

A stuttering hum crept up from your throat as Sam’s hands trailed down to your hips. Feeling his thumbs gently trace your hip bones, you gazed down at him 

“Sam?” 

Sam’s hand’s paused and his eyes flickered back up to meet yours.

 “Yeah?” He asked. 

There was silence again. Well, now you had to admit, you were a little embarrassed. But you already had his attention. Your stomach churned and you looked over at the wall to break eye contact.

“... Was he having fun?”

“... huh?”

“Nevermind, nevermind,” you stammered out. Sam sat up a bit,

“[y/n], if you don’t want to this this, I totally–”

“No!” you nearly shouted, making Sam jump, “Sorry,, I… I really want you. Please. Let's keep going,”

“Okay… okay,” Sam mumbled with a nod. 

He lowered his body again, letting his chest land on yours. He planted a kiss on your cheek, then another. He was so sweet…

He let his peppered kisses travel down, to your jaw, then to the side of your neck. His gentle, warm hand landed on your cheek again, and you let yours trail upward on his temple, your fingers tangling his hair

“I just…” You sighed out, staring at the ceiling. Sam stopped what he was doing and lifted his head again. You could’ve sworn a whine left his lips. He stared at you, like a dog waiting for a treat.

“I can’t believe he would do that and not tell me, he stressed me the fuck out all damn week-”

“[Y/N], are you sure you don’t want to pause and talk about this? Because I’m totally cool-”

“No, no, I’m sorry, please keep kissing me,”

Sam hesitated for a moment, but just shook his head and sighed, admitting defeat (and slight disbelief) with a raise of his eyebrows. His shy hands wandered back under the hem of your shirt, and his soft lips landed back on your neck, trailing towards your shoulder. His hands wandered up, his touch lingering on your rib cage until his hands landed on your bare breasts. A perverted smile tugged at his lips as he massaged at them and let his palms flatten against your nipples. A hum rose from our throat, you had to admit it felt good. Especially since it was him. Your hand ran through his hair, yet you continued to stare at the ceiling. You wanted to be immersed so badly, to surrender, but for some reason, you couldn’t make the leap…

“Y’know, I don't think I’d even be so bothered if h—”

“Alright,” Sam interrupted. In a fit of becoming a bit annoyed, he clasped his hand over your mouth and leaned over you. Your eyes grew wide and you quickly shut up. His head leaned down next to yours, his warm breath petting your earlobe, 

“Here’s what we’re gonna do.” 

He adjusted himself so that his weight was supported by his elbows and he raised his other hand: a clenched fist with his pinky finger up.

“Pinky promise me this is what you want. No feeling bad, no “sure why not”. You want this. You want me, truly,”

You were a bit stunned. This was almost uncharacteristic of him. But you had to admit, you kind of liked it. Though without hesitation, you lifted your hand and interlocked your finger with his.

“Okay, good,” He removed his hand from your mouth, using it instead to brush his knuckles against your cheek, “I’m gonna try something, okay? Nod if that’s okay,”

Your cheeks heated up, and you quickly nodded.

“Okay, perfect, awesome,” Sam mumbled to himself. His hand began to trace down your waist again, slowly. “I need you to stop talking for me, okay?” He whispered in your ear before kissing your temple. His finger trailed your hip bone, threatening to dip under your waistband. “I need you to clear your mind, as best you can. I need you to release that tension in your jaw,” 

Slowly, his finger dipped under your waistband, simply caressing the skin underneath,

“And I need you to surrender yourself, and let me make you feel good. Can you do that for me?”

His voice was soothing and loving, gentle and coy. But his words, they were so, so hot. His breath was hot, running down your neck. it made your crotch begin to throb. It made your breathing quicken with anticipation.

“Mhm…” You hummed with a nod, your voice faltering under the situation.

“Good, good,” 

His hand crawled even lower, until it met your lower lips. Despite being excited, he kept it slow. Carefully, he slipped one finger into your lips, then a second one, and spread them apart. 

“You’re… wow… you’re really wet,” He whispered, mostly to himself with wide blue eyes. His fingers explored the new territory a bit, grazing on the labia until his fingertip found itself on your clit. 

Your body spasmed, and a slightly startled gasp left your lips. His teasing drove you mad.

“I know, honey, I know. It’s okay,," He whispered, tilting his head downwards until his breath caressed the shell of your ear. "That’s an outside problem. It’s just you and me in here, baby, Okay?" His whispers echoed within your foggy head, and he began to press loving kisses onto your cheek again. 

He rubbed the thick, calloused pad of his finger over your clit, rubbing back and forth at a painfully slow pace, “Just like that. Good. ... You’re doing so good, sweetpea,” It left his soft lips in a delicate whisper, as if it was a secret for you and you alone.

 You reeled your head towards his. A helpless whine passed your lips and your back arched, revealing just how pent up you let yourself become over these past few weeks. It was a manifestation of how many times you pushed down your feelings for your beloved skater boy. 

He kept it going for a little, letting your body warm up while lewd whimpers and hums echoed into his ear. Such a sweet noise for him, one that made him rock his hips into the couch cushions with a groan 

“You’re so cute, you know that? Especially like this,’ He teased, 

The graceful movements of his hand slowed, leaving you to pout. Though your attitude switched up quickly once you realized he stopped so he could take his shirt off. You sat up, a new wave of excitement rushing over you.

“Lets go to my room,” You suggested in a hushed voice, as if anyone else was around to hear you aside from your pet. Sam dropped his shirt to the floor and smiled, the chain around his neck with his father’s old dog tag jingling as he moved

“Sounds good,” He agreed, “wait, we should try that thing they do in movies, y’know, where they’re trying to kiss and remove their clothes at the same time while going to the bedroom. It’ looks kind of fun”

Ah,There was the idiot Sam you knew and loved.

You couldn’t help but laugh and nod, “Okay, let's try it,”

Sam had become a bit shy again, “Wait, time out,” He muttered before he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, letting the bulge in his navy blue cotton underwear a bit more free, “Sorry, it got tight, It kind of hurt, time in,”

You snorted and covered your mouth with your hand, giving into your fit of giggling,

“What? It did!” Sam tried to defend, before the giggling overcame him too, “I’m sorry dude, I’m just, absolutely packing, y'know? I can’t keep my foot-long contained in these skinny jeans, he’s gotta breathe,” He joked between gasps and laughter, making the both of you erupt

“Okay, okay,” you said in an attempt to calm the situation, “Okay, come here and kiss me pretty boy,” You flirted, making a ‘come closer’ motion with your hand. He obliged and pressed his body to yours, taking your jaw in his hands and letting your lips collide. 

Both of your lips parted, deepening your kiss and allowing the tips of your tongues to meet each other. His hands wandered to the hem of your shirt again, this time pulling it up,

“C’mon, let's try to move a bit,” Sam suggested, shifting backwards while you shifted forward,

“Left Left, right left,, I don’t know my right from left,” Sam softly sung while pulling your shirt over your head, making you giggle more,

“What was that?” You asked,

“A military marching cadence my dad taught me when I was a kid. I just remembered it because this is… a lot harder than they make it look in the movies,” he rambled, the two of you giggled together again. With a grin, sam dropped your shirt to the floor and pecked you on the lips, 

“Maybe I’ll teach you the whole chant later,” He placed his hands on your bare waist, and turned so he could gently push you against your living room wall, “I’m a little busy right now,” 

“It’s a date,” You agreed with a rasp in your voice. You tilted your head to the side, letting Sam begin to nibble at your neck, this time with more intention than his gentle kisses. One hand found its way back to your face, the other found its way back to your breasts to continue his soft squeezing and massaging. He let his teeth sink into your skin, over your collarbone and shoulder. He kissed the bite marks he left, and carefully sucked some, leaving bruises, hickies, and your whimpers in his wake. 

“Sam…” You whined, “Mm,, You’re driving me crazy,,”

“Yeah?” He hummed, leaving one final kiss on your neck, “Come on,” He took your hand in his. His pretty eyes flicked at yours, and he placed a kiss on the back of your hand with a grin before pulling you back towards your room.

Your body collapsed into your mattress as Sam kneeled on the floor beside your bed frame. He began to work his way down, placing kisses between your breasts and down your abdomen. His hands took a firm grip of your hips. With a bit of a haste, he pulled down your pants and took a moment to admire you, your almost naked body with nothing but underwear. A big smile cracked his face

You looked down at him, feeling a little nervous,

“Is everything alright…?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” He assured, his eyes seeming to glow, “I’m just… You’re so pretty,” he whispered. He gazed up at you, his eyes meeting yours as he attempted something new; He grabbed the hem of your underwear in his teeth, and slowly dragged it down your legs.

Yoba… you could feel your hole start throbbing.

‘Heh,, learned that one from a comic Seb showed me,” he admitted a bit bashfully. You put your hand over your mouth to hide your smile and turned your head. Of course he would say that.

He took a second to admire you yet again, but the sight in front of him teased him beyond just gazing,,

He dragged his fingertips up your labia again, stopping once he reached your clit and flicking his eyes up so he can watch you squirm

“Where did we leave off?” He teased, “Something like this… right?” 

He continued his back and forth motion, regaining his confidence as he watched your face contort and heard your restrained moans. He let his pace quicken, and let his other hand begin to tease your hole with another fingertip. 

“Sammy…” You whimpered. Your walls throbbed and clenched around nothing, waiting very impatiently for him to make his move.

“Patience, honey… patience,” He cooed, letting his finger run a small circle over the rim before sinking in. You let out a groan and tilted your head back. Once pushing in to the second knuckle, he began to pull out, push in and pull out, then added a second finger. He leaned his body closer, keeping the pumps of his hand slow and methodical. You gripped at the blanket beneath you and let a small moan pass your lips. He was doing it on purpose

“Sammy… come on…” You whimpered, rocking your hips against his hand. He obliged, allowing his fingers to sink deeper and faster, an upward curl joining the routine as he leaned even closer. He moved his other hand away from your clit, and instead replaced it with his tongue. Soft, shy flicks of the tip of his tongue joined the rhythm of his hand. His masterpiece, and the finishing touch to his symphony was the moaning and mewling that left your chest. 

“Fuck-!” you cried out. Your knees began to tremble around his body, your nails scratched into your forearms and your hips rocked. In a fit of needing something to hold onto, your hands quickly switched to holding his shoulders.

Sam picked up his pace again, the tips of his fingers rubbing your walls and his head bobbing a bit for more movement. The velvety feeling grew stronger and stronger. You dug your nails into his skin, making him groan into your crotch, his voice reverberating into your core. 

“Ugh,, Sam! I’m so… I’m…!” You tried to whine, but the sweet sensation he provided made it hard to speak.

“I know, I know,” He hummed, “Give in, it’s okay,”

You threw your head back, a howl escaping your chest while your thighs vibrated. Your hole spasmed around his fingers as liquid arousal dripped around them, and your clit twitched in his mouth. 

“Fuck! Sammy-!” you whined, followed by one more long groan. He slowed down, helping you ride out the high of your first orgasm in weeks. 

Your body went limp and he leaned back. He extracted his fingers, and noticed how hot his face was. His skin was bright red, his eyes were puffy. And he was ecstatic. 

He crawled up into your bed with you, immediately kissing your face like a puppy,

“That was perfect. Beautiful,” He praised, “You did so good, so good,” He laid on his side, gazing at you while you continued to come down and catch your breath. You turned your head to face him, and a smile tugged at your lips. 

“...Round two?” you asked. Sam’s attention piqued. 

“Really? I figured I would give you an extra minute,” He commented. Not that he was complaining though. He stood up, and his knees cracked from kneeling on the hardwood floor

“Ow, holy shit!” He yelped, more so in shock than in pain. Even after having one of the roughest orgasms of your life, he made you giggle.

“You okay, honey?” you asked through deep breaths and giggles,

“Yeah, holy shit,”

He pulled down the waistband of his undone, sagging jeans. Seeing that your eyes were still on him, he decided to raise his hands beside his head and wiggle his hips in a hula hoop motion, earning a laugh from the both of you. You turned onto your side, watching as he kicked off his jeans and pinched the waistband of his briefs.

He pulled them down, and your eyes nearly popped out of your skull. It wasn’t the foot-long he pretended to have, but at first glance he could’ve maybe had you convinced. What bounced out proved Abby’s speculation of him being well hung. He was thick, and blushed dark red with arousal. 

You crawled back towards your pillows, and he joined you on your bed. 

He leaned over you again, the dog tag around his neck hanging down and laying against the skin of your chest. 

Your legs opened around his hips, and you bit your lip with anticipation. The tip of his penis rubbed on your wet slit, making him puff up his cheeks a bit. He was already so worked up, but didn’t want this to end so fast. He flicked his eyes to yours, and stabled himself on his elbows so his hands could touch your face.

“Don’t worry. I promise I’ll be gentle,” He whispered, “You ready?”

You nodded, and he adjusted his body so he could line up with you and grab your shoulders. He paused for a second, then began to slowly push in. 

both of you gasped. There was a slight, sweet sting with the stretch as he tried his best to keep moving so he could keep the friction going. As you encapsulated him, a groan left his throat. 

“Shit,” He whined, “You’re fucking great, [Y/N]” he mustered out, giving you a rush as he began to pull out, then push back in and begin a steady pace, or at least attempt to. It took everything for him to not fuck the shit out of you, but he knew he could never. You were too precious to him, the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you. 

Your arms hooked under his and you let out a groan. You felt him rocking through your whole body, filling the room with a squelching noise, heavy breathing and the quiet creaks of your bed,

“More?” He asked with a bit of a strain, almost as if he was begging, 

“Please,” You huffed. He picked up his pace, allowing himself to go deeper. In and out, in and out, his tip began to rub against the rough spot inside you, shooting electric pulses through your body. 

“Hnn-! Sam!” you yelped, making his body heat up. “Good,, So good!” You let out, a sad attempt to mimic his praises and sweet nothings that got you so riled up in the first place.

 With a guttural groan, he adjusted himself, attempting to get a better angle and speeding up again. The creaking of your bed gradually turned into a rocking. The heavy breathing gradually turned into a song of pleasure and bliss. The squelching turned into an arrangement of continuous wet friction. 

Your back arched as his tip began to kiss your cervix and massage your favorite spot. Your head reeled back against your pillow as Sam’s tilted down, watching you squirm and writhe worked him up more and more. 

“[Y/N]... I’m… getting really close, [Y/N]” he whimpered, 

“I am too, Sammy,” You mewled. You reached down through what little space there was between the two of you and began to rub on your own clit. It only took a few rubs for your body to spasm and for you to yowl.

You began to see stars as your hole throbbed and convulsed around Sam, turning his thrusts sloppy and rough. It pushed him to the edge as well.

 He whined and moaned out, grabbing tightly onto your upper arms so he could rock himself through his orgasm. Ropes and pearls of hot semen shot out from him into you. 

He slowed down into a stop, this time leaving both of you panting. With a tired groan, he pulled out and let his body ragdoll beside yours. 

“Are you okay, sweetpea?” he asked through heavy breaths. You turned over to face him and nodded,

“Yeah, I’m okay, I’m alright,” you assured, leaning into his touch while he pushed strands of hair out of your face. 

The two of you gazed at each other, taking the other’s fucked-out looks; face red, hair a wreck, eyes glimmering. 

“You did so good, honey,” You hummed, attempting once again to mimic his praises. You planted kisses over his face, making him grin and chuckle with what little energy he had left,

“Come here,” he mumbled, pulling you into his arms so he could snuggle his head into your shoulder. 

“...What are you going to tell your mom?” you asked, using your knuckles to pet his hair,

“I’m sure she’ll understand. She knew I was leaving early to see you. … I’ll probably sleep over though, I really don’t want to deal with that right now. Ugh, I’m so lucky she and my dad like you.”

A smile spread on your face as you allowed yourself to reciprocate his snuggling. Though Sam spoke up again,

“... What are you gonna do about Marlon?”

[brights-place]

Can request a clay and Floyd ,branch ( separately)with a s/o who pushes themselves to much and then gets hurt one day and they decide to force them not to push themselves

Please and thank you

Young Brozone bro's with overworking S/O

Pairing: Brozone X S/O (Seperate)

Warnings: Cursing, fluff, overworking s/o

A/N: Ahhh! this is fun to write and I have been overworking myself too so this was nice to write hope you like! credits to the artist since I ran out of other brozone photos!

Clay

- Okay but Clay seems like the guy that gets so mad when you don’t eat even if it’s only been for a few hours because you’re not taking care of yourself - He entered the room after dealing with Viva and stared at you with confusion - Clay noticed that you were alseep on your bed as a look of worry and slight annoyance for you not taking care of yourself infront of him - Whenever you fall asleep from working too long/being online too long he'll always tuck you into bed and give you a kiss on the forehead.

- He has all your favorite snacks memorized and has them stocked up for you.

- When he thinks you're asleep he will tell you stories about him from his past and you will admit sometimes you could NEVER see him doing those things.

- He would kiss your cheek and tell you how much he was worried as you sigh in relaxation in his arms

Floyd

- He enters the room and looks around - Floyd was tired and yawned wanting nothing more then cuddle you while listening to some music together and talking about eachothers day - The definition of a worry wart once he sees that your head is resting on your desk fast asleep. - Finally chuckles once he realized you were just tired from a long day of running errands and doing hours upon hours of paper work that price had asked of you - Though yes you had gotten most of them done, there was still atleast a bit more to go through but he refused to let you do it considering you had already burnt yourself out

- Doesn’t take no as an answer and makes sure to treat you to your favorite things! Like food, dessert, run a bath for you and cuddle for the rest of the night. - Wants you at your very best and refuses to let you work yourself like that again. Despite laughing at the situation he was actually worried - He kisses your cheeks and peppers your face with love as he tried to convince you to take more breaks

Branch

- Branch is protective and caring, always looking out for your well-being and making sure they're okay

- He knows you have the tendency to overwork themselves and push themselves to the point of exhaustion.

- Branch often tries to convince you to take things slower and to take care of themselves but your stubborn

- Despite his best efforts you occasionally tends to disregard his suggestions and continue to push yourself

- Though yes you had gotten most of them done, there was still atleast a bit more to go through but he refused to let you do it considering you had already burnt yourself out

- Doesn’t take no as an answer and makes sure to treat you to your favorite things - Like food, dessert, run a bath for you and cuddle for the rest of the night. - branch noticed that you were alseep on your bed as a look of worry and slight annoyance for you not taking care of yourself infront of him - Whenever you fall asleep from working too long/being online too long he'll always tuck you into bed and give you a kiss on the forehead.

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2023 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact!

[gremlin-girly]

Kinktober Day 6

Kink: Handjobs

Pairing: Room mate!Steve Rogers x f!Room mate! Reader

Tags/ Warnings: SMUT, room mates to lovers (ig?), listening/watching of porn, JOI porn, smutty audiobook mentioned, descriptions of masturbation (m and f), praise and petnames (good boy, baby, sweetheart), handjob (m recieving), soft!dom!reader X submissive!Steve (the man just needs some taking care of)

Not Beta read (I'll have to edit my mistakes when I have the chance!)

Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: Your roommate forgets to disconnect his Bluetooth headphones from his phone, leading to an embarrassing moment between you both that segues into something more.

As always I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated or copied. My warnings are non-exhaustive (even though I do try to capture everything) but please read at your own risk. I am not responsible for your content consumption.

I hope you enjoy; likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

Part 1 (you're here) | Part 2

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A/N: And they were roommates...

Originally, I had planned for this to go in a slightly different direction - but prefferred this!

But I have to admit, I do like a good roomates to lovers and have been playing with a few ideas of a Roommate!Steve (and potentially a Roommate!Bucky) so I may have accidentally started a little collection... Sorry for posting late, migraines all day had me conked out, just a double whammy for tonight!- Love, Grem x

You’d fallen into a nice routine since moving in with Steve. He was the perfect roommate, an utter gentleman, and easy on the eyes too. You knew being Captain America was a stressful full time job, and you were surprised to find that behind the stoic, stern symbol of hope was a friendly artist from Brooklyn.

It had taken Steve some time in getting used to you being around. When he went away on his first mission outside of the US , he’d forgotten you now lived with him and had startled you on your way to the bathroom. He’d been so apologetic about it and you'd just laughed. From then on, he’d text you when he was on his way home from a mission and from then on you always made sure there were leftovers in the fridge for him.  

Occasionally you’d spend time together, watching a movie, or idle chit chat as you cooked breakfast for you both. Steve slowly but surely came out of his shell and relaxed around you – and you him – cracking jokes, gently ribbing each other. You didn’t miss the way the tips of his ears burned  when you complimented him or how your heart fluttered when he’d brush past you to throw a dirty mug into the sink. But you were just roommates.

And you were currently a roommate with dead headphones.

“Steve?” you emerged from your room and padded out into the living area, spotting Steve who quickly locked his phone looking at you with wide eyes. You locked an eyebrow as you approached. “You alright?”

“Y-Yeah.” He clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. “Thought you were in bed.”

You shrug helplessly. “Dead headphones. Could I borrow yours whilst mine charge please? If that’s okay?”

Steve nods and twists to point over at the kitchen counter. “Yeah, sure. They should be over there somewhere.”

You waltz over to the counter and find the headphone case easily, missing how Steve’s eyes follow your figure. You turn back to him and smile, wiggling the case.

“Thanks, lifesaver. Couldn’t miss the next chapter of my book.”   

Steve smiles back  but his expression looks like a mixture of disappointment and relief that you seem to be leaving to head back to your room.  “No worries. Night.”

“Night. Don't stay  up too late, Stevie.” You say as you grasp the handle to your door.  Steve only hums in response and waits for you to be safely shut away in your room before unlocking his phone again.

He runs his hand over his face as he looks down at the videos before him. It wasn’t the first time he visited porn sites, but lately he’d found  the perfect stress relief after a day of being Captain America. He felt the shame trickle down his spine and pushed away the guilty thoughts that plagued him in moments like these. Captain America being told what to do? Having powerful women instruct  him to jerk off, shower him with praise, and tell him when to cum was more than enough for blackmail, let alone the jokes that Tony would make if the information ever saw the light of day. And you had almost caught him.

Steve shivers, palming his growing erection over his joggers. God, it was worse knowing he liked you almost catching him. Would you have flustered? Or would you have complimented his cock with that teasing smile you always seem to wear? 

Steve curses under his breath at the thought, cock twitching. He shakes his head to try and rid himself of the thought but it sticks, and he scrolls through the myriad of videos until he finds a promising one. With one final cautionary glance at your door, he shuffles his joggers and boxers down to take out his hardening cock. He only needs the volume low thanks to super soldier hearing and you’d either be fast asleep or listening to whatever audio book you were listening to this month to hear what has about to happen. Steve makes himself comfortable again the sofa pillows, leaning into them and pumping his cock a few times thinking about how good you must look right now cuddled under the covers in those tight pyjama shorts. Before he gets lots in the daydream, he hits play on the video, continuing to stroke himself but slowly now; awaiting his instructions. After a moment there’s still no sound. Steve clicks the buttons to up the volume, continuing slow ministrations and thinking of you.

Before Steve had pressed play, you had been lying in bed with the headphones in, debating whether or not you would go to hell for using your hot roommate Bluetooth headphones to listen to smut. Your body flushed at the thought but... you needed an extra helping hand before bed tonight since you’d had a particularly stressful day too. Steve didn’t need to know.

When the audio kicked in, you thought you had accidentally hit play, and allowed yourself to be subjected to your fate. You heaved a contented, almost smug sigh, eyes fluttering closed as you  reached down under the band of your pyjama shorts. The narrator’s voice sounded different somehow. Maybe they’d changed actors? Then she started giving instructions. Your frown with your eyes closed, fingers finding your clit but not moving. It isn’t until you hear the words “good boy” being uttered that your eyes fly open in horror.

Steve’s headphones are still connected to his phone.

Steve is watching porn.

Steve doesn’t know you can hear it.

Your face burns red with embarrassment and you scramble to get the earphones out of your ears. Even though you shouldn’t, you feel heat pool between your legs. You should tell him. He hasn’t realised. But would it be weird? If you disconnect the headphones he might suspect it but if you text him it’d be worse. And God forbid you see what he’s doing in the living room.

Your fingers hover over the Bluetooth icon on your phone. Your imagination is running wild and now you really don’t think you need your smutty little audiobook anymore.

The volume gets turned up on the headphones again and you can hear the woman continue talking  through instructions in a sultry voice.  You panic, blushing furiously, and rip the covers away from you. You trip out of bed, grasping at the headphones and call out.

“STEVE!”

Big mistake.

You balk. Why did you call for him? You hide your head under your hands as you hear Steve scramble in the living room, cursing as he knocks a foot against the coffee table. He bursts into your room, face flushed, and sees you lying on the floor. You don’t look up. You can’t meet his eyes.

Steve opens his mouth to ask if you’re alright, you look like you’ve fallen out of bed, but as he does he hears it. In the blind panic to help you, he forgot to hit pause. The sounds from the video echoing from the headphones in your grasp. Red creeps up Steve’s neck and face and he stammers. This was a nightmare.

“ohmygod,” he breathes out, hiding his face. “Oh- Y/N – God- How long were you-?” He stops himself clearly even more flustered by the fact you may have (totally) been listening.

You remember you still exist and your head snaps up, equally as red as Steve’s, meeting his glimmering blue eyes with an apologetic look.

“I thought it was mine.” You clarify, and Steve looks like he might pass out.

“What do you mean yours?”

“I... thought it was my audiobook.” Your voice grows quieter at your admission and you give Steve a sheepish look. You both stare at each other for an age; each wrapping your head’s around the new information you’d discovered about each other, and trying to come to terms with the tension that was now entirely palpable between you.

You were the first to speak, lips twitching into a smirk slightly. “So.... do we want to talk about this?”

The smirk made Steve’s cock twitch. There it was, the same teasing smirk you always gave him. He had been so close to cumming when you’d called out for him, and the embarrassment that followed ruined the high, but at least he’d have material to work with when he went back to his bed.

Steve held up his hands and found himself smiling nervously down at you. “No thanks, I think I’ll pass.”

“That’s it, good boy.”

You have to bite back a laugh as the woman’s voice erupts from the headphones in your hand. Steve looks like he wants the ground to swallow him.

“She’s really going for it,” you comment, trying to break the ice. Steve starts to grin but he groans. You’d heard him sigh and groan before, and it never ceased to make you hot and bothered. “I see why you like it so much.”

“Please don’t.” Steve chuckles softly. “My old heart can’t take it. I’m sorry I forgot to disconnect them.”

“S’all good.”  You clamber to your feet and hold out his headphones to him, Immediately  wiping your sweaty palms onto your pyjama shorts. “And for what it’s worth, totally normal. Don’t be too embarrassed.”

“Hrm,” Steve grumbles, looking at the headphones in his large palm. When his gaze shifts back to you, he’s smirking slightly with a raised eyebrow. “And you thought this was your...?” He can’t quite get himself to say the word porn, but you roll your eyes playfully at him.

“My porn audiobook – yes.” Your eyes narrow teasingly at him. “But I’ll only share it with you if you’re a good boy.”

Steve’s body goes rigid,  and your expression softens. “Sorry. Too soon to joke about it?”

Steve’s looking down at you, pupils blown wide, trying to learn how to breathe again and hide the fact that his cock is rock hard between you. He shakes his head gently and clears his throat.

“N-no. It’s fine.” Steve huffs, eyes still fixated on you. Heat unfurls between your thighs under his gaze.

“Steve?” Your voice is so quiet it’s barely audible. Your heart beats in your ears and you watch Steve’s Adam's apple bob as he swallows thickly.

“yeah?” his voice is hoarse, bordering on desperate.

“Do you want me to call you a good boy?” You murmur. You watch as his eyes flutter and he bites down on his plush lip, suppressing a throaty sound that you’re sure sounds like a strangled whimper that makes your pussy throb with excitement. “It’s okay. You can say it. I don’t mind.”

“Fuck.” Steve curses, half turning away from you. When he turns, you can see the tent in his joggers and you almost swoon at the sight. “We shouldn’t-“

“Not what I asked, Stevie.” You say firmly. Steve’s eyes betray his thoughts and he only nods. You offer him your hand with a soft smile. “You’re okay – I’ve got you.”

The reassurance seems to be what he needs because the super soldier allows you to lead him to your bed. You let him sit down first and you stand between his muscular thighs. He’s still almost as tall as you sitting down, but you’re just that little bit taller like this to cup his face and tilt it up towards you to capture his lips in a sweet kiss. Steve breathes hard through his nose, his eyes close, and his shoulders slowly sag as you kiss. His big hands ghost over your thighs to settle on your hips. When you pull away to take a breath, you smile down at him, still cupping his soft clean shaven face.

“Good boy,” Your murmur against his lips and Steve audibly sighs in delight. “Now, undress and lay back for me. I wanna take care of you.”

You don’t need to tell him twice. His shirt is the first thing to go, tossed to the floor somewhere. Your eyes rake down his chest and your hands follow tracing the outlines of his taut muscles. He shivers underneath your touch and his breathing hitches when you reach the waistband of his joggers. There's barely anything left to the imagination with Steve's length straining against the thing fabric and you watch as Steve's blue eyes look up at you one last time; searching yours in case you want to back out. Before the point of no return.

He obeys, quietly shuffling back. His breathing is deep and laboured, his eyes never leave you as you kneel between his legs on your bed. You're hot all over - you dreamed of having him in your bed but now that he was here you almost felt self-conscious. But you had meant what you said when you told him you wanted to take care of him. Gently wrapping your fingers around his cock, the heat and hardness of the smooth skin making your mouth water, you pump a few times to adjust your grip. Steve lets out a breathy sigh but watches closely.

You swallow and nod at him, urging him with a barely audible "Go on," as encouragement. When Steve's cock is free, you lick your lips subconsciously at the sight. Big was an understatement and there's a dribble of pre-cum leaking from the tip already. You can feel Steve watching you, patiently waiting instruction, and your eyes meet his again.

"Further back onto the bed, Stevie."

You set a steady rhythm, Steve's breath hitching as you pump his weeping cock and shower him with praises making his head fall back into your pillows with muffled moans. As sexy as it was watching Steve try to suppress his moans by biting his (ridiculously) soft lips, you were desperate to hear them. Especially if, after tonight, things became... awkward at best.

"Don't keep those pretty sounds from me," You coo lasciviously at him, letting a blob of spit slowly roll from your tongue and drip onto the tip of his cock. The gasp Steve emits makes his whole body jerk, and heat rushes to his face. His cock twitches as you pump him harder, faster and now slicker, smirking up at him with that devilish grin he sees every night before he closes his eyes.

"Oh, fuuuuck." Steve moans loudly, and you chuckle; pleased he listened and pleased by how his eyes roll back and how he can't seem to stop his hips jerking.

"You were such a good boy Stevie but you should have said something. And let me take care of you." Your voice is low and seductive, you barely recognise it's you who's speaking. It's not often you get to be like this and your brain (or another organ entirely) is speaking without thinking.

"That's it baby, be nice and loud for me."

Steve huffs, brows furrowing softly trying to focus himself; which only spurs you on more. You grip his cock a little harder, expertly gliding your hand up and down.

"You like thinking about this when you're alone, Stevie? When I've been across the hall this entire time?"

"Shit, yes - oh." Steve groans again, cock twitching in your palm. You feel a sense of pride, and a flutter of something you dare not mention, at the confession. You're glad it's not just one-sided attraction, at the very least.

"Mm, I should have." Steve hums, breathing becoming heavier and heavier by the second. You are relentless, pumping him with the occasional trail of drool, and unabashed praises of him just to watch him squirm under your touch.

"Your cock is so pretty Stevie," Your murmur to him, watching his sac tighten as you fist his cock faster. "I can't wait to taste it."

Both the comment itself and the very thought of having your lips around his cock, make Steve cum so hard his vision blurs for a few seconds. His face and neck are flushed and he's coated in his own cum, panting hard with his eyes closed. You smile at the sight, committing it to memory before any guilt or shame sets in. You stealthily move over him to your bedside table to grab some wet wipes. Steve barely moves at the shift on the bed, but his eyes peek over to you and you gently smile down at him. You pull a wet-wipe free and hand it to him, unsure how he'd react to you cleaning him up.

"You okay, sweetheart?" You ask softly, sitting against the edge of the bed as Steve graciously takes the wipe from you. His face his bright red still and you start feeling the nibbles of guilt at the edges of your mind. You had both been willing and horny... but perhaps jeopardising your friendship to make Captain America cum wasn't the smartest idea.

"Mm." Steve clears his throat, still avoiding eye contact, and takes another wet-wipe. You fight the urge to make a joke about the super-soldier amount of cum. Not now.

"Hey," You reach out to touch his shoulder but stop when Steve looks over at you with his baby blues still blown wide. "This doesn't have to change anything if you don't want it to. We can pretend this never happened."

You shuffle awkwardly on the edge of your bed, grasping your hands in your lap. "But I... liked it. And I wouldn't mind if you wanted to... spend the night in here."

"I think I'd like that." He mumbles. "And I think I'd like to do it again sometime."

You can't tell if you've crossed the line from reassurance to worry for a moment. The silence drags for what feels like an eternity until Steve's features go from flustered to soft, with that cute smile he does so well.

Now it's your turn to go red. "Good. Great."

Steve chuckles. "But first, since you heard my audio... I think it's fair I heard yours."