#he's one of my ocs who has gone through the least changes. this is the first design i whipped up for him and i still use it

[eliounora]

my oc, kaya! I have no idea how his glasses stay on his nose

[monstatron]

OBASI ADEBOWALE, THE BIG BOSS (character is a woman and butch lesbian, she/he!!) Obasi is the current leader of the Phantoms and a stoic gorilla animan with a determination to protect the city of Haderia and the ones she loves. Birthed from a legacy of heavy-hearted pessimism, Obasi struggles to find herself whilst still attempting to hold true to her values and empathy. Her sense of self is otherwise skewed, but regardless, she remains steadfast in maintaining the criminal underground of Haderia and keeping her family safe. She has been the leader of the Phantoms for over 25 years, nearing 30 soon. This has earned her the title as the "King of Haderia". She is respected by many, but not all. Obasi could care less about this, as her goal is to ultimately maintain peace within the city. She strives to provide for those in need, including the lower class and others who have been let down by the higher government. Obasi is seen as a protector of sorts because of this, as she puts a large effort into keeping military activity to a minimum in the city and ensures that resources are distributed evenly- or at least as much as possible. There is only so much that Obasi can do, but it is wise to never doubt her determination. Aside from her work as a kingpin, Obasi is a mother. She's raised three daughters. In addition, she's a maternal figure to the younger members of her syndicate, one of which she's taken under her wing. Despite being stoic and sometimes cold, Obasi is incredibly caring to her family and friends. She tries to spend as much time as she possibly can with her loved ones, and she will always make time for them if she is able. Obasi will always put her family first in dire situations, and she wants only the best for her children as well. She encourages them to seek lives outside of the criminal underground and supports them in this. Obasi herself has also sought a career far from criminal work. From a young age she had an interest in music, and this later led her to occasionally perform at adult clubs or small events under the artist name of "Amethyst Blood".

a new and more official reference of my big gorilla gal, obasi! she's been an oc i've had for so long and one that has gone through countless changes, but now more than ever she truly feels authentic to me.

obasi is the main character of a hopefully upcoming book i've been planning to write within my "blade in the city" world! blade in the city is a cyberpunk thriller novel about anthropomorphic animals in a post-human world, following obasi and her journey to find individuality.

[moodymisty]

I request that you write about whatever 40k character you've currently got brainworms for. Space Marine or Primarch, smut, angst, or fluff, it don't matter to me. I love them all, and everything you write ends up being a treat to read :)

Author's note: If you or any other serf you know is suffering from Sad Pussy Disease, please report to your nearest Captain.

Relationships: Theo (Lamenter OC)/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Vaguely lewd, Slight period kink,

Theo's vox begins to hail with a sudden alarm across his helmet's hud, from a channel he recognizes. He steps away for a brief moment and pulling off from his squad of brothers, before answering.

"What is wrong?"

He says, voice filled with worry. A million different things races through his mind with a speed that only an astartes can muster.

He gave this channel to you for emergencies- to make sure you were safe while he was gone. Serfs generally took good care of each other but Theo knew you were outcast by a lot of them since becoming his personal serf, friendships fading away as you moved to his quarters to tend to him. He wanted to give you the ability to tell him if something was wrong; If he needed to perhaps even ask a favor of a brother.

Moments after he speaks your voice is like a gentle song that washes over him, even with the crackle and distortion of a vox channel reaching the limits of its communications span. He can see distantly up in orbit the ship you're on from his position planetside, but even that stretches the limits of his short range comms.

"...I miss you..."

Theo lets out a massive sigh from his three lungs, once he realizes you aren't in danger. His voice loses that sense of worry and instead changes to a more stern tone.

"This channel was not for you to use unless there was an emergency." You whine, and Theo feels his resolve break a bit; He hates how your pleading and begging tears right through his armor at his resolve. "We are ahead of our projections, we should return by the end of the solar week." You whine again, and he can just barely hear you rolling around on his cot.

"If this next advancement goes to plan as well, some of us might return to the ship to regroup. I might see you then."

Theo ignores a curious look from a fellow Lamenter passing by, who then realizes he's standing so oddly away from them due to taking on vox.

"But you will still have your armor on?" Theo wonders what is with all your odd questions, but answers anyways.

"Yes, but I can still visit you with-'

You let out an even louder whine, cutting him off.

"But I miss you, Theo."

He doesn't get what you mean at first, before you clarify. There's a desperation and sadness in your voice he isn't entirely familiar with.

"My cycle just started and I miss you, nothing else is working I just want you..."

You can hear the crackle of silence over the vox, before he clears his throat. This was the last thing he needed to hear while being swamped in enemy fire underneath the sweltering heat of this desert world. Sand crunches in the seams of his armor, while he can only think of the softness of your skin.

"My fingers don't feel as good as you..."

Theo has been feeling hungry, having been at least two Terran months since he last bit you, and now he knows that with your cycle- you had taught him the term and it's meaning in a lengthy conversation- started, he now has a literal feast laying in his quarters right now. One that is whining, begging for his cock.

Theo walks away a bit farther, to avoid anyone hearing his voice through his helmet. Astartes ears are more than a bit keen, and even if they're busy talking through battlefield theoreticals he does not want them catching even a single word of this.

But it is not... Unheard of around the Lamenters for them to take solace in their baseline refugees. It is also not unheard of for serfs like you that bleed monthly to be rare meals for wayward Lamenters; The scent alone oftentimes has them drooling, and to have a taste of blood with less risk of injuring their baseline companions is a tantalizing opinion.

"My love, I will return to you soon,"

He is going to punish you for this; Now he has to fight in this dead, skeleton filled desert knowing he has you wet and waiting for him in the confines of his quarters.

"And when I am back, I am going to mouth that cunt of yours until you regret ever using this vox for reasons you weren't supposed to."

He hears your excited little noise. He knows he's giving you exactly what you want, but he can't help it. Neither his heart or stomach will allow it.

"l'll see you soon,"

You say with a pep on your voice, the sound of something happy to get their way. Theo wonders if you realize just how rare you are to be able to command an astartes.

"Soon. Now end this vox and do not touch it again unless you are in danger."

You do as he tells you, but he swears he can hear the start of a laugh right before you cut the connection.

[yerimsdreams]

Duty is Sacrifice

author's note: chapter 2 is finally here! sorry for the wait, I had an exam period, but that is finally over!

cregan stark x oc (she/her pronouns)

warnings: swearing. sentencing. mention of death and murder. spoilers for fire&blood.

The council chamber was dimly lit by the morning light filtering through narrow windows, casting long shadows across the stone walls. The air was thick with the scent of parchment and the muted rustle of cloaks as the nobles took their seats. Cregan sat at the head of the table, towering above everyone else. 

Benjicot, Oscar and Kermit cautiously observed him. Kermit's fingers lightly drummed against the table as his brother and friend awaited the words of the Lord of Winterfell. 

On the other side of the table, the brothers Leowyn and Corwyn Corbray of the Vale sat with anticipation. They'd only arrived that morning in King's Landing after they had received word from Lady Arryn, who occupied a place at the opposite end of the table, her sharp gaze never leaving Cregan. 

He let the silence stretch, allowing it to settle over the room. He knew what was coming, the resistance he would face, but he remained fixed. 

''Unworthy as Aegon the Usurper might have been, his murder was high treason. Those responsible must answer for it.'' He spoke clearly, his hands clasped in front of him. 

The others remained quiet at his words, exchanging uneasy glances with one another. It was a sentiment that most did not share, but none were eager to challenge the northman so directly. 

''My lord,'' Benjicot dared to speak up, ''no one here disputes the crime that was committed, but we must consider the realm. Pursuing vengeance will only breed more unrest.'' 

''What of those who still hold Aegon the Elder's banner? What if they decide to seek a vengeance of their own in response to those imprisoned here?'' Lord Leowyn asked, shifting in his seat. 

''There are still pockets of resistance, but they are of little consequence, my Lords.'' Lady Jeyne Arryn responded to his concerns, before Cregan could. 

Lord Tully spoke up for the first time, scratching his voice. ''The Dance is done. The war is over, and the realm is in shambles. It is time to make peace.'' 

The Warden's eyes flicked to Kermit, studying the young boy's tired features. The desire for peace was palpable in the room, but so was the fear of what Cregan might do if his demands were not met.

''The realm must heal,'' he conceded, though his tone remained firm, ''but it cannot come at the mercy of justice. The killers of King Aegon II cannot be allowed to walk free, lest we invite more treachery.'' 

Kermit Tully’s drumming fingers stopped abruptly. He leaned forward, his expression serious, any trepidation that had manifested itself around Cregan gone. ''Let it be on your head, Stark. I want no part of this, but I will not have it said that Riverrun stood in the way of justice.'' 

Cregan nodded, somewhat relieved they would stop fighting him on this, even if it was done with heavy hearts and lingering doubts. 

''Aegon the Younger will have to make you Hand, my Lord. No lord has the right to put another lord to death. You will need the King's authority to act in his name.'' Ser Corwyn reminded him. If Cregan were to put sentences on the kingslayers' heads, he will at least do so according to the law. 

The Warden gave an unimpressed glare to the Corbray knight. He had no desire to undermine the authority of the King, nor to cast doubt on the justice he sought to dispense. The law would be his shield as much as his sword. 

''Then it will be done,'' Cregan declared, ''I will seek the King’s authority, and with it, the traitors will be judged.'' 

The room fell into a heavy silence. The lords and Lady Arryn exchanged uneasy glances but did little more than nod. They could sense the determination in Cregan, a man who would not easily be swayed from his course. Even if they harboured doubts, they understood that any attempt to change his mind would be futile. Cregan held the authority in court now, whether they liked it or not.

''Where is Visenya?'' Bloody Ben asked. He had waited all meeting for her to walk into the room and join them, her empty seat now gathering dust as the council continued without her.

The question hung in the air, drawing the attention of the assembled lords. Cregan looked over to the Blackwood boy, his keen eyes narrowing ever so slightly. It was not only the inquiry that caught him off guard, but the casual way Benjicot referred to Visenya - by her name alone, without her title. Cregan knew that the young lord had fought alongside her, sharing the burdens of war in ways that few others could understand. But even so, the breach in formalities did not sit well with him. 

Before he could even think of a response, Jeyne's voice had him beaten again. ''It is curious, isn't it?'' She mused, her tone deceptively light, though her eyes gleamed with sharpness. ''The Princess is not one to retreat without reason.'' 

She did not know why Visenya had confined herself to her chambers for days on end, speaking to no one but the young King Aegon. However, she had her suspicions, and they pointed directly to the man sitting at the head of the table.

The lords around the table exchanged puzzled glances, not fully grasping the weight of her words, but Cregan understood. Her pointed comment was as much a question as it was an accusation, a way of nudging Cregan to acknowledge his own part in whatever had driven Visenya into isolation. 

But Cregan would not allow her to unsettle him in front of the others. ''The Princess will join us when she is ready.'' He replied, emphasising her title as he glanced at Lord Blackwood. 

''Or when you are ready for her to join us?'' She'd leaned forward as she asked, further provoking the Warden of the North. 

It was uncomfortable to watch, to say the least. The Maiden of the Vale the only one brave enough to somewhat challenge the Wolf of the North. Cregan would respect it if he was not the object of her sharp words. He knew she was testing him, trying to see how far she could push, but he was not about to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. 

''Whenever that may be,'' his voice was surprisingly calm, ''the council will continue its work. I suggest we resume our other duties now.'' 

The finality in his tone left no room for further provocation. Jeyne, though clearly unsatisfied, leaned back in her seat, her eyes still fixed on him, as if weighing his resolve. 

One by one, the lords rose from their seats exchanging quiet murmurs as they made their way out of the council chamber. The clatter of boots and swords filled the air, the heavy atmosphere easing as the chamber slowly emptied. 

Cregan lingered for a moment more, staring at the parchments in front of him. He realised his control over the court was slipping out of his hands. His plans to march on Casterly Rock, Storm's End, and Oldtown had been cast aside, undone by Visenya and Corlys's pacts of peace sent before his arrival. The trials for the traitors in the dungeons was the only thing that remained to him, and he would not let go of it. 

The room had emptied, save for one. 

Jeyne Arryn had no intention of letting him leave without a final word. She rose from her seat and approached him, her steps slow. There was an air of quiet authority about her, the kind that came from years of ruling her own domain with both strength and wisdom. 

''Lord Stark,'' she addressed him, ''a moment, if you would.'' 

Cregan paused, turning to face her with a guarded expression. He was not in the mood for more of her probing comments, but something in her demeanour told him it would be a bit different. 

''What is it you wish to discuss, my Lady?'' He acknowledged, standing up from his chair that scraped against the floor. 

She held his gaze, the silence stretching between them for a heartbeat longer than was comfortable. And then, with a tone that was both knowing and subtly accusatory, she spoke a single name.

''Visenya.''

Cregan's breath hitched for a moment, not expecting such an outright answer. The name hung between them like a drawn sword. 

''What of the Princess?'' He replied, his voice carefully neutral, though he knew it was a futile attempt to shield himself from whatever insight Jeyne was about to lay bare. Cregan could feel his pulse quicken. 

Jeyne tilted her head slightly, a look in her eyes that seemed to see through his composed exterior. ''No one has seen her or spoken to her in days. The court has taken notice, as have I. One might wonder what has driven her to such isolation.'' 

His jaw tightened, the recurring mention of her absence stirring emotions he had tried to bury. He had thought of little else but her in those silent days, his thoughts a storm of conflicting feelings. 

''Perhaps the Princess simply needs time for herself.'' He said, his voice low, though the uncertainty in his tone betrayed him. He didn’t sound sure of himself, and he knew it. 

The Lady's gaze softened, feeling somewhat pitiful for him. ''When the council is in need of her mind, she precludes herself? My cousin's daughter does not run when her presence is required by others.'' 

Cregan's expression remained stoic, his face a mask of controlled indifference. He wasn’t about to let Jeyne, or anyone else, see any sign of doubt or guilt. ''War has taken its toll on all of us, my Lady. I trust the Princess knows what is best for her.'' 

She noted the evasiveness in his voice. She had seen many men in positions of power adopt this same diplomatic tone, a way of deflecting blame while maintaining an air of authority. But Cregan Stark, despite his best efforts, was not fooling her. 

Jeyne's eyes narrowed, her earlier pity giving way to a sharper curiosity. ''Of course,'' she replied, her voice laced with just enough doubt to make it clear she wasn’t convinced, ''But Visenya is not one to retreat, as you have seen for yourself, I am sure. She has been through more than most can bear, yet she always finds a way to press on. So I ask again, what of the Princess, Lord Stark?''

His composure faltered, just for a heartbeat. It was a moment so brief that most might have missed it, but Jeyne Arryn was not most. ''As I said, Lady Arryn,'' he quickly recovered, ''the Princess is taking the time she needs.'' 

''She is not a woman to be underestimated, my Lord. Nor is she one to leave herself out of decisions that deeply affect her family, such as a potential execution of Lord Corlys Velaryon.'' 

She was figuring him out despite Cregan not giving anything away, it aggravated him. ''I do not underestimate her, my Lady,'' he said, keeping his tone respectful, ''I know full well what she is capable of.'' 

Jeyne studied him, letting her eyes wander over his figure. ''Do you?'' She challenged, again. 

A flash of frustration crossed his face before he masked it with his usual composure. ''If you are implying something, Lady Arryn, I suggest you say it plainly.'' 

She chuckled softly, a sound that was more calculating than amused. ''Do not let your sense of duty blind you to what is right in front of you, my Lord.'' Her tone was gentle, more advice than accusation. 

Jeyne did not press further, sensing she had said enough. She offered him a faint smile before leaving. The sound of her footsteps echoed softly as she made her way out of the chamber, leaving Cregan alone with his thoughts and maps. 

As the guards closed the doors behind her, Cregan stared at the empty room and the large table in front of him. She had seen something in him, something he was not ready to admit to himself yet. 

The Great Hall of the Red Keep was eerily silent, the weight of the impending judgments pressing heavily on all present. The Iron Throne loomed in the background, a jagged, forbidding monument to the power that had been fought over so bitterly. But today, it was not the Iron Throne that commanded attention, it was the man sitting before it, on a simple wooden bench, that captured all the eyes in the room. 

Lord Cregan Stark, newly named Hand of the King, though it was less an honour and more a necessity born from the young king's fear and the absence of his formidable aunt, sat in judgement of all the turncloaks and kingslayers that had been arrested. 

The next criminal in session was Ser Perkin the Flea, a man of no great birth but of infamy enough to fill the hall. His shoulders hunched slightly, his gaze shifting nervously as he was brought forward to stand trial. The man who had once risen so high through treachery now looked small and pathetic. 

''Ser Perkin,'' Cregan acknowledged the traitor, ''you rose up in rebellion against your lawful queen and helped drive her from this city to her death. You raised up your own squire in her place, then abandoned him to save your worthless hide.'' 

The Flea opened his mouth to protest to plead his case, but Cregan continued, his voice growing colder with each word. ''The realm will be a better place without you.'' 

Desperation flared in Perkin's eyes. ''I was pardoned for those crimes, my Lord! I was forgiven!'' 

The Warden's expression did not change as he delivered his final, damning words. ''Not by me.'' 

The weight of that statement hung in the air as the Flea was led away, his fate sealed by the undaunted judgement of the Lord of Winterfell. 

Next came Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake himself. The room seemed to hold its breath as the old man was brought forward, his chains clinking softly with each step. Unlike Perkin, Corlys did not cower or plead. His gaze was steady, though weary, as he faced Cregan. 

Cregan observed him for a long moment, his thoughts unreadable. The Sea Snake had been many things - an ally, a traitor, a hero, a villain - but now, he stood accused of murder, and that was all that mattered. 

''You stand accused of murder, regicide, and high treason. How do you answer these charges, Lord Velaryon?'' His deep northern accent boomed through the Great Hall. 

Much to everyone's surprise, Corlys did not attempt to hide his guilt. ''What I did, I did for the good of the realm. I would do the same again. The madness had to end.'' 

Cregan remained silent for a moment, his gaze steady, measuring Corlys’s resolve. The old man had seen countless battles, navigated treacherous waters, both literal and political, and yet here he stood, admitting to regicide without a flicker of regret.

As he stared into the Sea Snake’s eyes, Cregan’s mind drifted, if only for a heartbeat, to Visenya. Their bitter words echoed in his memory, and he felt the sting of her absence more keenly than ever. Seven days had passed since they had last spoken, seven days of not having even seen a glimpse of her. It was a wound that festered, a silent torment he could not afford to indulge.

His gaze faltered for a brief moment as those thoughts consumed him, but he quickly steeled himself. This was not the time for doubt. Corlys Velaryon had committed murder, and murder demanded justice, no matter the cost.

''I declare Lord Corlys Velaryon guilty of murder, regicide, and high treason. For his crimes, he must pay with his life.'' Cregan decided, every word a hammer blow. 

The old man stood silent, accepting the verdict with the same calm he had displayed throughout the trial. His granddaughters watched in horror as their grandsire was escorted away back to his cell in the dungeons, now a sentenced murderer and traitor. 

The price of peace was high, and today, it had claimed the Sea Snake.

The halls of the Red Keep were quieter now, the echo of recent trials still lingering in the air. The heavy weight of the verdicts hung over the castle, settling uneasily in every corner, as if the very stones themselves were absorbing the gravity of what had transpired. 

Cregan walked the corridors alone,his thoughts occupied with the day's grim duties. He was heading towards the courtyard, seeking his men, when a sudden presence halted him in his tracks. 

''You cannot do this,'' Baela's voice was steady, her expression fierce, her hand gripping the hilt of a sword, ''Aegon pardoned my grandsire. He granted him mercy, and you cannot simply take that away.'' 

Beside her, Rhaena lingered, her gaze troubled but determined. Cregan could see that while she did not entirely condone her sister's approach, she had chosen to stand by her regardless.

The Warden regarded her for a moment, the corners of his mouth twitching in something that was almost a smile. He recognized the fire in her eyes, a familiar Targaryen resolve that demanded to be heard. But her words, her challenge, it amused him more than it angered him.

''And you intend to force this pardon with that sword?'' Cregan asked, his voice laced with a hint of mockery. 

Baela tightened her grip on the sword, her expression remaining fierce. She had made a show of defiance, but deep down, she knew she would not raise her blade against him. Cregan saw it too, the internal struggle playing out behind her determined gaze. 

He let out a low, rumbling laugh. ''You will not use it, Princess. You are not here to fight me,'' Cregan respected Baela, she had been Jace's betrothed and his late friend had always spoken of her in high praises, ''you are here because you think you can sway me with a threat, but we both know that is not going to work.'' 

Baela clenched her jaw, her pride wounded by his dismissal. Rhaena, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke. ''My sister only seeks what was promised by the King. It is not too late to honour that, Lord Stark.'' 

His laughter faded, replaced by a more serious expression as he looked between the Dragon Twins. ''The King may have offered pardon, but I have not. Your grandsire committed crimes that cannot be overlooked. What’s done is done.'' 

Baela's grip did not falter as she held it up to Cregan, her eyes blazing with a mix of fury and desperation. She could see that her words alone weren't enough to sway him, so she aimed for what she hoped would be a weak spot. 

''Is that what you told Visenya, Lord Stark? Or did you wish to court her, but she rejected your Northern beastliness, and you had her imprisoned like you did our grandsire?'' 

Cregan's eyes flashed with anger at Baela's words, a fire igniting within him that he struggled to keep in check. Her comment had struck deeper than she could have known, but he would not let her see how much it affected him. 

''Whispers of the court do not concern me, Princess.'' He brushed it aside, though his voice was dangerously low, his temper barely restrained. He knew she was trying to provoke him. 

Baela's eyes narrowed as she noted his reaction. ''But they seem to concern my cousin, and what concerns her, concerns us, Lord Stark.'' She said, her tone dripping with disdain. 

His temper flared, but he forced himself to maintain his composure. ''Put the sword down, Princess. You know as well as I do that you will not be making use of it.'' 

Baela refused to back down, the fire in her eyes only growing more intense as she stared him down. ''Do you think so little of us, Lord Stark?'' She asked, her voice venomous. ''You dismiss our concerns, our family, as if they are beneath you. You should know better than to dance with a dragon.'' 

''I do not underestimate anyone,'' he retorted, the same way he had said to Lady Jeyne in the council chamber, ''least of all your cousin. Your grandfather was complicit in the poisoning of a King, even if it was the Usurper. A crime he will be punished for.'' 

Her hand slowly dropped from the sword, the fire in her eyes dimming, replaced by a mixture of frustration and resignation. Still, she was not ready to let him have the last word.

''You might believe this is justice, but there will be those who remember this as cruelty.'' She said quietly, only loud enough for him and her sister to hear. 

Cregan nodded slightly, acknowledging her words without conceding to them. ''History will judge us all, Princess.'' 

With that, he stepped past the two women, leaving them standing in the corridor. He did not slow his pace, even as doubt clawed at the edges of his mind. 

Baela's grip on the sword slackened further, her shoulders drooping as she exchanged a look with Rhaena. Her twin put a comforting hand on her shoulder, guiding her away from the cold emptiness of the corridor. 

The castle was draped in silence, the kind that only settled over King's Landing in the dead of night. The corridors were empty, save for the occasional torch flickering in its sconce. Outside, the air was cool, a stark contrast to the stuffy warmth inside the castle walls.

Visenya moved quietly, her steps light as she made her way through the Great Yard. She had been to see her dragon, Sōnax, seeking solace in the dead of night when sleep eluded her. The moon cast a pale light over the paths, guiding her through the maze of hedges and flowers that had once been so meticulously tended. Now, they seemed as weary as she felt, their blooms drooping in the darkness. 

She passed the godswood, pausing against the heart tree. She took a deep breath, letting the cool air fill her lungs, trying to ease the tension that had settled in her chest. 

It was then that she heard the faint sound of footsteps, slow and deliberate. She turned, instinctively reaching for the dagger she kept hidden in the folds of her gown ever since the start of the Dance, but she relaxed slightly when she saw who it was. 

Cregan emerged from the shadows, his tall figure illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. He had been patrolling the grounds, unable to sleep with the weight of the day’s decisions pressing down on him. The trials, the confrontations - it all swirled in his mind, leaving him restless.

They had not expected to see each other at this hour or even at all until the Lord of Winterfell would ultimately return to the North. 

The pair stared at one another, neither moving or speaking. The tension that had manifested itself in Visenya's chest had been lifted from her body and into the air between them. Cregan's dark eyes met hers, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Visenya did not look away.

''Princess.'' He finally greeted her, his voice rough from the lack of sleep. 

''Lord Stark.'' She nodded, her tone equally guarded. She could see the weariness in his eyes, the lines of fatigue etched into his face. It mirrored her own exhaustion, the strain of everything they had endured. 

He loosened the grip on his sword as he took a few steps closer. ''What brings you here at this hour?'' He asked, though he already suspected the answer. 

''I could ask you the same.'' She replied, her tone neutral, careful.

Cregan let out a soft breath, almost a chuckle, but it lacked any real humour. ''I suppose neither of us has found much comfort in sleep lately.'' 

Visenya nodded, her gaze turning back to the large tree behind her. ''The nights are long when ones thoughts are troubled.'' 

''And yours are troubled, Princess?'' He asked, taking a step closer, though still keeping a respectful distance. 

Her eyes flickered back to his. ''They are. As are yours, I imagine.'' 

Cregan did not provide her with an answer right away, instead watching her. He looked at her, really looked at her, and he could see the toll that the last few days had taken on her. She was still beautiful, even in all her fatigue and unrest. 

''Yes,'' he said, his voice thoughtful, ''there is much to ponder about.'' 

''The trials, I suppose.'' She was leaning against the tree, observing every step and move he made. 

Cregan stopped his pacing and turned to face her. ''Indeed.'' 

''I know what you think of his actions,'' Visenya sighed, '' and I agree that poison is a coward's weapon.'' Her gaze became distant, as if dreaming. 

The Wolf of the North nodded along, his expression one of contemplation.

''When I flew to King's Landing, I only had one purpose; to kill my half-brother, to kill him as he had my sister, by burning him alive and feeding him to my dragon. You can imagine my anger when I arrived here and I am told that the Usurper is dead, and by poison of all ways,'' she chuckled, though the sound was devoid of real mirth. 

''However, I am glad he got a coward's death. My sister died like a true Targaryen, in fire and blood. Her death will be a grand story told for centuries, but no one will remember his. The story of his demise will fade because it lacked the valour and the strength that he lacked,'' She admitted, almost sounding proud. 

Cregan nodded slowly, understanding the fierce loyalty and pride that Visenya held for her family. 

''But there are others who acted not out of cowardice, but out of duty to the realm, to their family. They deserve a different fate.'' She met his gaze again, sorrow in her eyes. 

Cregan's eyes narrowed slightly, sensing where the conversation was leading. ''Lord Corlys Velaryon?'' 

Visenya nodded. ''I ask you one last time to reconsider his sentence. Yes, he made a choice that many would condemn, but without him, Aegon would not be alive today.'' 

He remained unreadable, though his eyes softened slightly. ''You ask much, Princess. The law cannot bend every time someone believes their cause is just.'' 

She stepped closer to him, her violet eyes locked onto his.''If not for the stability of the realm, if not for the honour of my nephew, if not for the sake of peace, for me. A personal boon.'' 

Cregan studied her, the sincerity in her voice piercing through the walls he had built around himself. ''And if I were to grant this boon, what would you offer in return, Princess?'' There was a hint of curiosity, the first time the mighty Warden of the North could actually sound like his conviction could be persuaded. 

''In return, I will give you whatever you desire, Lord Stark.'' Visenya answered, her voice strong despite the tremor in her earlier plea. 

He could see the desperation in her eyes, the way she held herself with a dignity that was both regal and vulnerable. The offer she made was not one to be taken lightly. 

''What I desire?'' He repeated, almost as if testing the weight of those words. He looked down, thoughtful, then back at her, his gaze piercing through the darkness. ''What if what I desire is not something you are willing to give?'' 

Visenya stiffened slightly, her heart pounding as she anticipated what he might say. ''Name it.'' She said, though there was a hint of apprehension in her voice. 

Cregan took another step, closing the distance between them. ''What I desire is all of you, forever.'' 

Visenya felt the air catch in her throat as Cregan's words hung between them. It was as if the entire world had paused, waiting for her response. His dark eyes, intense and unwavering, held hers captive, and for a moment, she found herself unable to speak.

''All of me?'' She managed to whisper. She was not sure if it was a question or an incredulous statement.

Cregan nodded, his expression solemn. ''Yes. Your hand in marriage, your loyalty, your trust - everything that you are, everything that you could be. Not just for a night or a season, but for as long as we both shall live.'' 

She searched his eyes, looking for a trace of jest or manipulation, but found only earnestness. The Warden of the North was not a man to make light of such things. The very idea was preposterous - her, a Targaryen, bound to the North? Yet, in that moment, it felt as though he was offering something more than a mere proposal. It was an invitation to a different kind of life, one far away from King's Landing. 

She let out a small, breathless laugh, one that held no humour. ''Are you mad, my Lord? A Targaryen in the North?'' 

Cregan's lips curved into a faint smile, though his eyes remained serious. ''Perhaps I am, my Princess. But madness and greatness often walk hand in hand, do they not?'' 

Visenya regarded him, the idea swirling in her mind. It was mad, audacious, and yet... "You would truly ask this of me? To marry into the North, where winter reigns and dragons do not fly?"

He nodded, his expression unwavering. ''I would. The North may be a land of ice and snow, but it is also a land of honour, of strength, and of loyalty. It is a place where bonds are not easily broken, where words are not just spoken but lived, my Princess.'' 

''It is no place for dragons, nor for those who carry their blood.'' She shook her head. 

''And yet, here you are,'' he countered, ''a dragon in King's Landing, a place that has brought you nothing but pain and loss. What has this city given you that the North could not? What has this life offered you, other than endless war and treachery?'' 

She opened her mouth to respond but found herself at a loss for words. His questions struck at the heart of her fears, her uncertainties. The life she had known was one of fire and blood, of power plays and betrayals. But what had it truly brought her? What had it cost her?

Everything. 

Cregan took her silence as an opportunity to continue. ''I offer you more than just a marriage, Princess. I offer you a chance to build something new, something not tainted by the ghosts of the past.'' 

Visenya felt a chill run down her spine, though she was not sure if it was the cold night air or the weight of his words. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine it - a life in Winterfell, far from the scheming of King’s Landing, the endless battles for power. A life with a man who, despite his stern exterior, had shown her a kind of respect and understanding she had not expected. 

But the thought of leaving everything behind, of binding herself to a man she barely knew, was terrifying. ''You ask much of me, my Lord.'' She remarked, her voice slightly trembling. 

''And you asked much of me, my Princess.'' He retorted gently. 

''You are right,'' she chuckled, ''I did ask much of you.'' 

Visenya looked down, her thoughts a tangled web of doubt and longing. She had always been a Targaryen, defined by her name, her blood, her dragon. But what had that brought her? Loss after loss, betrayal after betrayal. 

''What of my dragon? Sōnax is a creature of fire and sky, bound to me as I am to her.'' She could not leave her behind, she'd seen how Seasmoke had acted when Laenor left. She did not want Sōnax to be subjected to the same fate. 

''She would find her place,'' he assured her, his eyes not leaving hers, ''The North may be cold, but it is also vast, with endless skies and mountains that reach the heavens. She will not be confined, just as you will not be.'' 

It did not feel real to her. As a young girl, she had imagined how her betrothal would go. She figured it would be much like her sister's, one to strengthen alliances and no regard for what either the bride or groom want. There was no room for dreams or desires. It was all about duty. 

Despite asking him for a favour, his proposal almost felt like a choice. It felt foreign, strange, like something she was not accustomed to. To have a choice in something so monumental felt both liberating and terrifying.

''And if I say yes, if I agree to this... I want to be your equal. I do not wish for you to rule, while my only purpose would be to squeeze out heirs like a broodmare.'' She was firm and resolute, no room for arguing. 

Cregan took her hand, engulfed by his. ''You would be my equal in every way, my Princess. We do not see women as mere vessels for heirs. I already have one, my son Rickon. We value strength, wisdom, and the ability to lead, regardless of one's gender.  If you stand beside me as my wife, you will be a Lady of Winterfell, not just in name but in action.'' 

Visenya felt the warmth of his hand enveloping hers, a stark contrast to the cool night air that surrounded them. Her heart raced as she met his gaze, his grey eyes filled with a depth of sincerity she had not encountered before. 

With a deep breath, she nodded, her decision crystallising in the quiet of the night. ''I will marry you, Lord Stark. A hand for a head.'' She agreed, grinning. 

A genuine look of joy and relief crossed Cregan's face. He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles. ''Then it is settled,'' he said, his voice warm with emotion, ''I will have my men release Lord Corlys from his cell when the sun rises.'' 

''Thank you, my Lord.'' She expressed quietly. 

''Cregan.'' He corrected gently. 

''What?'' Visenya blinked, caught off guard by his sudden informality.

''You may call me Cregan.'' He repeated, his smile softening. 

Visenya hesitated for a moment before nodding, a small smile forming on her lips. ''Then you may call me Visenya.'' She offered in return. 

The familiarity between them, though still new, felt strangely comfortable. 

''I will be leaving for Winterfell once the sentences have been carried out.'' Cregan informed her, still holding onto her hand. 

She nodded, the gravity of his words not lost on her. ''So soon,'' she murmured, squeezing his larger hand as if to hold onto the moment a little longer, ''I will have to stay here longer. For Aegon, he needs me here for the time being.'' 

''I know,'' he mumbled back, ''your duty to him comes first. But when your time here is done, Winterfell will be waiting for you...and so will I.'' 

There was a tenderness in his words that made Visenya's heart ache. She gave him a small nod, her grip on his hand tightening for just a moment before she finally let go. 

''We will discuss the formalities once we both have found some rest. I am retiring for the night.'' She announced, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of the past week catching up with her as she leaned against the tree. 

Cregan noticed the weariness in her posture and stepped forward. ''Allow me to escort you to your chambers, my Princess.'' He offered his arm, for her to support her weight. 

Visenya smiled softly, touched by his offer but aware of the distance between their quarters. ''You are kind, Cregan, but your chambers are far, and you need rest as well. We have both endured enough for one night.'' Her words were gentle, her refusal a considerate one. 

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded, understanding her reasoning. ''As you wish,'' he accepted, ''goodnight, my betrothed.'' She could see a hint of a smirk on his face. 

''Goodnight, my betrothed.'' Visenya echoed, the words feeling both strange and comforting on her lips. 

With one last look, they parted ways, each retreating to their respective chambers. 

As Visenya walked away, the weight of their conversation settled over her like a heavy cloak. She had made a decision that would change the course of her life, and yet, she felt a strange sense of peace. It was not the peace that came from certainty, but the kind that came from acceptance, from choosing a path and committing to it. 

Cregan watched her until she disappeared into the castle, a mix of emotions swirling within him. He had asked for her hand not out of a simple desire for power or alliance, but because he saw how fiercely she protected those who had stood by her sister and their family.

He wanted to be the object of her loyalty, amidst other things. 

taglist: @oxymakestheworldgoround

[alwaysonf1]

leak?

Pairing: Charles LeClerc x Hamilton!OC

Genre: Slice of Life; Fluff

Word Count: 740

Warning: N/A

Rating: PG-13

Author's Note: Dates and times don't matter.

“Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down. Do you see what’s trending right now?”

There’s a sigh over the phone and Iman feels bad, but not enough that her anxiety is subsiding or that she can apologize in the moment.

“Mon ange, it’s not even a good picture of us. Plus, would it be so bad?”

Yes, is on the tip of her tongue, but it wasn’t the truth. Iman had just hoped there would be more time before the world knew. She’s adept at handling the media frenzy because of how it was when the world found out she existed. But this was something so fresh and new. She didn’t want to have to share it with anyone.

“No, I just…” 

There are no words that come to mind. Logic is returning to her brain and she knows she’s being dramatic. Next to K-Pop stans, Formula 1 fans are creepy good at detective work. And one is always going to be around no matter where they are.

Also, she wasn’t completely bothered. There was a part of her that took joy in speculating that they were together. That he was her’s. It just isn’t strong enough to make the biggest impact in her head.

Iman sighs.

“Let them speculate. We don’t have to confirm anything.”

Another sigh.

She knows that he’s right, but she’d deluded herself into thinking that things could be chill. For at least a month. Or a week. But she’d found herself attached to Charles’ hip no matter how in public they were. There was some hope that if anything were to leak it would be her getting her ass handed to her in volleyball by Logan. It was ego bruising because she’s the one who played it through high school, but it was better than this.

“I know.”

“Then why all of this? You knew it would come eventually.”

“Not this quickly,” she mumbles.

There is a sound on the other end that sounds like a scoff. Iman has picked up when Charles is calling her out on her bullshit.

“I mean I could post that video of you falling on your face on the beach. That would get everyone’s attention,” Logan chimes in.

Iman’s eyes narrow as she turns to look at him leaning against her door frame snacking on popcorn. Lewis stands behind him with the bowl of popcorn that he’s been eating from.

Both idiots think her reaction is funny and have been watching her as she fights not to go into a spiral. Lewis has made comments about how she wasn’t even this bad when things got intense with the media after their episode. 

The urge to cuss them out presents itself, but Iman simply raises her hand with only one finger extended. Both of them react in faux shock and offense before falling into a giggling fit.

What she’d done to have this life she wasn’t sure, but goodness did it sometimes test her. 

“Mon ange…”

“Huh?”

Charles laughs. “I asked what you wanted to do. I want what makes you happy.”

For a second, she sits with her lips pursed as she thinks about it. They could get it out of the way, but it is much too soon to be making those kinds of announcements. Even if they’re both sure about this, it feels much too fast. Though Iman has to be honest in admitting that sometimes things move at a different pace when you’ve had years of friendship. And there are a few recent thoughts she’s had that are much faster than admitting to dating Charles Leclerc.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“For now, at least. If they catch something else and it goes crazy, we’ll just admit it. Or after like a month.”

“Okay, but mon ange, I’m not going to change my mind about you.”

Breathing becomes hard and Iman is barely able to tell him bye as they hang up the phone. Her phone drops from her hand and she falls back to fully lay on her bed. Butterflies are how she’d describe what she feels.

Laughter starts. At a speed that could give whiplash she turns her head and glares at the two pains in her ass.

“Get out!”

A pillow sails through the air and hits Lewis square in the face. Logan is gone before the other one can leave her hand and Lewis isn’t far behind him.

“Lord help me,” she says, sighing.

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logansargeant 2x national champ my ass.

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[atleastpleasetelephone]

Gentle On My Mind - Chapter 7

Initially set in 1967 when Elvis is filming Clambake. Feeling miserable and trapped after the Colonel banishes Larry and the spiritual texts, Elvis invites Gloria to keep him company through the last five days of filming. Gloria is an aspiring movie editor and more importantly she's a lot of fun. Will she be what Elvis needs to get him out of the depressive funk he's in?

Catch up with the other parts here.

Many thanks to @sissylittlefeather being my beta reader on this one.

A/N: We're up to 1968 now...

Pairing: Elvis x OC - Gloria, a budding film editor.

Word count: 5.1K

TWs: Infidelity, p in v sex, fingering, possessive kink, size kink, dirty photos, angst.

Elvis doesn’t say a word on the drive back to the set, and he refuses to let any of the guys help him pack his things, closing the trailer door in their faces angrily. He takes his time putting clothes in bags, staring around the room at everything of hers that’s still there. Part of him is hoping if he does this slowly enough she’ll be back to pick up her things too. He’d spent the whole journey looking desperately for her car in the rear view mirror and not seeing it. But what would be the point? He wonders. Seeing her again wouldn’t change anything. If anything, it would make things worse. 

Picking up the last of his possessions, he suddenly realises he hadn’t ever given Gloria anything. He looks at his hands, but he’s barely wearing any rings, and he doesn’t want to just carelessly take one off for her. She deserves better than that. He scans the room again but there’s nothing. Sitting down on the bed, heavily, he wallows in self-pity. He can’t believe she is the one girl he hasn’t given something to. Even the rose he gave her on the first day she was on set was taken away again by Charlie. How will she remember him now?

***

Gloria walks around the trailer slowly, gathering her things. She’d waited for a long time before driving back from the beach. Partly because it took her a long time to calm down, and partly to avoid running into Elvis again. She wonders who really has the power to drag him away from her like this, she’s not sure that it’s the guy who found them and drove him back. That guy had looked strangely familiar, although she can’t place him now. Once she’s packed she sits on the bed and thinks of all the fun they’d had in this trailer. All the things he’d told her, the tears he’d shed. She can’t believe how sad she feels right now. Sighing, she picks up her bag and heads towards the door. It was just a fling, she tells herself. You’ll be over it in a week or so.

***

A couple of days later the wedding photos are plastered all over the papers. He looks so happy, Gloria starts to wonder if what happened on the beach was just because he felt guilty. Maybe he felt like he should’ve been sad, maybe he felt like she wanted him to make love to her like that. Make love. She shakes her head, trying to knock the words back out of it again. Absolute nonsense. It was just a fling for both of you. This proves it. 

***

“Let’s get rid of them. Come on. Let’s burn them. It’ll be a fresh start for both of us.” 

Elvis holds the books in his hands. It probably is best to put all of this stuff behind him, now Larry is gone. Cilla is probably right. He feels a pang of regret as he throws them, one by one, into the flames. His hand grips the numerology book, immediately thinking of Gloria telling him she was just a foolish impulsive girl and he’d be president someday. He swallows down the lump in his throat. 

“A fresh start,” he repeats, tossing the book into the fire, watching as the edges curl up and then the whole thing is engulfed in flames. “A fresh start together.”

***

It’s the third day of filming in LA for Chautauqua. As usual, Elvis is disappointed by the script. But he doesn’t have many more of these left to make, and at least this is a little different from his usual movies. After the disappointment of Charro! he actually feels okay about it. Plus, he’s just finished wrapping the Singer special and that’s something he’s definitely proud of. Finally finding a way to get back to seeing an audience again, the whites of people’s eyes. He’s still afraid of what people might think when they see it on TV. Does he still have it? But his confidence is back. Sometime soon he’ll be back in front of real audiences again. Just like he told Cilla he wanted. 

He’s making his way to the set for the day when he thinks he hears a familiar giggle. Gloria. He shakes his head. It can’t be her, why would she be…

“Elvis!” Suddenly she’s right in front of him, the same exuberant smile, the same beautiful face. His eyes scan down her body and he notices she’s dressed a little more demurely than the last time he saw her. She grins. “Fancy seeing you here!”

“Well I mean it’s my movie, honey. Think it should be me surprised to see you, not the other way around.”

He kisses her cheek, his hand on her arm. His eyes are sparkling, the blue set off wonderfully against the white suit he’s wearing, and it takes everything in her not to melt there and then. 

“I’m here helping with the editing work,” she explains, trying to control the blush that she’s sure has spread over her cheeks. 

“Oh really? That’s wonderful,” he replies, warmly. 

They both stand there for a while, looking at each other, not sure what to say or do. Eventually Gloria breaks the silence. 

“Congratulations, by the way. On your marriage, and your little girl.”

Elvis’ mouth curls into a lop-sided grin. “Ah, thank you. She sure is the apple of my eye.”

“I’m sure. I um… I have some news too.”

“Oh yeah?” Still smiling. 

“I’m engaged!” She waggles her finger at him, showing off the diamond ring there. “Getting married as soon as this wraps up actually. History repeating.”

His face falls, though he tries hard to recover. ‘Oh… ah… uh… well congratulations. I never thought ya were the marrying type, but uh… guess I was wrong.”

She smiles. “Well, when you find the right person it’s the only thing to do. You know that, of course. You have Priscilla.”

She doesn’t mean it to come out like that, so cold and accusatory, but it does. He nods curtly. 

“Yeah, sure. Anyway, I better go. Needed on set.”

“Good luck!” Gloria replies, brightly, trying to fix what she’d just done. “Break a leg!”

***

They spend the month of filming largely avoiding each other, and being polite when they find themselves in the same place at the same time. Gloria can’t help the feeling when she sees him though, every time her heart leaps and that familiar tingling starts between her legs. She bites her lip and closes her eyes and tries hard to think about her fiance instead. Roger had told her he loved her after three dates. He’d moved in after a month. He bought her pretty gifts every day and told her how he couldn’t live without her. She liked him. Of course she did, maybe she even loved him. But the important part was his devotion to her, which was unquestionable. Everything he did was to make her happy. She’d never experienced anything like it. So when he popped the question, of course she said yes. Then work sent her to LA, and she knew she’d see Elvis again. She’d tried to avoid reading about him, since the day his wedding was in all the papers. Thought that perhaps, over a year later, she’d got over their little fling. She had a man now who wanted her and needed her and provided for her. Once they were married she’d give this job up. But she had wanted to do this last movie, just to see that her feelings were really gone. Of course, they weren’t. 

She knows they’re really not gone the night her and some of the crew crowd around a television set to watch the Singer special. Of course she’s seen him on TV before, when she was much younger, but only once. After all the furore about his wiggling hips her parents put a stop to her watching him, even that awful show where they made him sing to the dog. And she saw him sing on set, when he was filming Clambake. But it’s nothing like this. For a start, he looks so damn good in that leather suit. The sweat is just dripping off him and Gloria can’t help having flashbacks to the time he carried her on his shoulder and then spanked her. But it isn’t just the way he looks, it’s the way he acts. The man she met on the set of Clambake was a shell in comparison to this. She can see he starts off the sit-down part slightly shy, awkward, a little nervous. But by the end, as he sings Memories to two girls on either side of him, that’s all gone. He’s a performer. He’s in his element. 

Her heart is beating so fast by the end of it. She feels like the whole thing was a whirlwind of singing and dancing and him on his knees in that suit, singing like a man possessed. Her brain tells her over and over again to go back to her trailer and touch herself, get it out of her system. But her legs carry her to Elvis’ trailer, and she stands outside looking in. He’s still in his Walter Hale get up, for some reason, but his hat is off and his hair is wild. The guys are all in there, laughing and cheering, all so excited they’ve clearly forgotten to put someone outside as a guard. All the same, she can’t go knocking on the door, not with so many of them about. She notices the guy that came down to get him from the beach that day, Joe? She’d remembered where she knew him from, several weeks after filming had wrapped. It just floated into her head one day. He was the guy at the party who’d told her about the beach. That’s how he knew exactly how to find them when they were gone. 

She walks back to her trailer and tries to make good on her promise to herself of masturbation and then sleep. But she keeps seeing flashes of him from that show, and she knows he’s not far away. And worst of all, she knows he’s still wearing that white suit. She groans. The only thing to do is call Roger. 

“Hi honey, it’s me,” she announces, brightly. 

“Oh… um… hi honey. How come you’re calling so late? Something wrong?” He sounds sleepy. 

She looks at her watch. It is kinda late. “Nothing wrong, just wanted to hear your voice.” Nothing wrong, nothing like I’m only just holding it together not to run into the trailer across the way and fuck Elvis Presley senseless. 

“Well that’s very sweet, but I was just in bed.”

“Oh. Naked?” She asks, hopefully. 

“C’mon Gloria, you know I never sleep naked. And I’m really tired. Let’s just talk tomorrow, can we?”

“Did you uh… did you see that Elvis thing on the TV tonight?” She has no idea why she’s asking this, beyond trying to keep him on the phone. 

“No. Look, honey, I really need my rest. I’ve got work tomorrow.” 

“Okay, sorry. I just missed you, is all.”

“I miss you too Gloria, but it won’t be long before you finish this movie now and then you and I never need to be apart again. Love you.”

And without waiting for her to reply, he puts the phone down. Gloria frowns. He’s usually so much more excited to talk to her than this. He’s probably just tired. It is late. She takes a few deep breaths and tries to stop thinking about Elvis and the sweat pouring off him as he sings. Her hand moves to her belly and the temptation to touch herself thinking about him gets even worse. She pours herself a drink and puts a record on. Think about something else. Anything else. 

Three drinks later and all remaining sensible thoughts are gone. She pulls a fur coat and her boots on and walks out of her trailer towards his. It’s much quieter than before and the blinds are down so she can’t see inside this time. Crossing her fingers that he’s alone, she knocks on the door. It’s a while before he finally appears, looking slightly dishevelled, raking his hair back from his face. He’s shocked to see her. 

“Glory.”

“Can I come in?”

He nods and opens the door wide for her, feeling her brush past him in the small doorway. Closing it before turning to face her. 

“You okay?” He asks, tentatively. 

She shakes her head. “No,” she replies, and before he has a chance to ask why her arms are around his neck and her tongue is in his mouth. 

He pulls her towards him with his big hands, holding her body tightly. “Shit,” he mutters, as they come up for air. “Thought ya were gettin’ married?”

She shakes her head in a way that tells him not to talk about that. Her eyes trail over his body in the white suit of Walter Hale and she tries hard not to moan audibly. 

“I watched the special,” she manages to get out before he kisses her again. 

“What d’ya think?” He asks, his breath hot on her cheek, trailing kisses from the corner of her mouth down her neck. 

“Fuck me.” 

He giggles into her ear. “That good, huh?”

“I really wanna tell you about it…” she breathes. “But first I really need you to fuck me with that big dick.”

“Oh God, I’ve missed that filthy mouth of yours.”

She giggles and they stand there for a moment, just looking into one another’s eyes. He’s missed more than just her filthy mouth. This energy, this joy. He’s missed her terribly. 

“Can you keep the suit on, though?”

He blinks. “What? The whole thing? Wardrobe will be mad with me if we mess it up…”

“Will they? Do you need to wear it again?” Her head is tilted to the side and she’s smirking at him. 

He can’t help smirking back. “Okay, fine. I don’t care. You want me to leave it on, I’ll leave it on.”

She bites her lip. “The jacket can go,” pushing it off his shoulders. “And we don’t need this tie,” undoing it and throwing it on the floor. “But the rest can stay.”

“What about the hat?” He asks, picking it up from the table he’d left it on earlier. 

She giggles, remembering that first night in his trailer when he’d put on a hat and a jacket and pretended to be her boss. “Put it on, let’s have a look.”

He grins, putting it on his head and then spotting a cigar on the table and putting that between his teeth too. “Ya like Walter, do ya baby?”

Giggling and nodding. “You gonna smoke that while you fuck me?”

“If you want me to.”

“I want you to.”

“C’mere,” he pushes her coat off her shoulders then picks her up in his arms and carries her over to the bed, putting her down carefully. She kicks off her boots.

Catching a glimpse of the long mirror on the closet door out of the corner of his eye, he suddenly has an idea he’s sure she’ll like. 

“You wanna watch yourself?” Nodding at the mirror. 

Gloria can hardly believe her ears. “Are you… okay?” She asks, but she doesn’t really want an answer. She likes him like this.

Elvis laughs, pulling her back up from the bed again and standing her in front of the mirror, his arms around her waist. He kisses her neck, cigar back in his hand for a moment.

“This way you can see me in this suit you like so much. And you can see yourself, getting fucked by my big dick.”

His hand moves down between her legs and squeezes. She hums with pleasure, grinning at his reflection. “I’d like that, big boy.” 

He pulls a lighter out of his pocket, lighting the cigar and puffing out a cloud of smoke around her. She can’t help giggling, until he unzips her pants and slides his hand into her panties. She gasps as his fingers touch her pussy and he presses more hot kisses to her neck. Roger never touches her like this.

“I don’t like it when girls wear pants, baby,” he tells her, teeth grazing her earlobe. 

“I better take them off then,” she replies, quickly reaching to shimmy them off. 

He grins. “Might as well take it all off,” he suggests, stepping back to take another drag of the cigar and look at her from behind and then at her reflection again. 

Gloria’s heart races at the idea of her being completely naked, in front of a mirror, and him behind her still wearing all his clothes. That TV special has certainly done something for his confidence levels, she thinks. She unbuttons her blouse and tosses it onto the floor, unhooking her bra and removing that too, so she’s just in her panties and socks. She looks back at his reflection in the mirror. 

He smirks around the cigar. “All of it, honey.”

She does as he asks, standing naked in front of the mirror. He takes the cigar out of his mouth so he can kiss her shoulder. 

“You’ve got a beautiful body, Glory. I missed it.”

“I missed your big dick.”

They both giggle, Elvis pulling her back against him. He slides his fingers back between her legs and starts to rub slow circles around her clit. 

“Your fiance…” he murmurs, close to her ear. 

“Average-sized,” she replies, quickly, panting a little at the pleasure building already. 

She knows it won’t be long before he makes her come, she’s so het up already.

“Mmm. That’s a shame, baby.”

“He’s nothing… like you,” she moans. 

Elvis smirks, taking another drag on his cigar as his fingers speed up their movements, watching her face in the mirror. 

“Come for me, Glory.”

She whimpers, tipping her head back and exposing her throat for his kisses. Her legs shake as the pleasure builds and builds and then finally reaches that wonderful crescendo. Moaning, her back arching, her head flopping onto his shoulder. 

“Mmmm. Good girl.”

She breathes hard, chest heaving, body tingling all over. He holds her for a few moments and then kisses her cheek. 

“Fuck. Elvis. That was so good.”

“Better than anything you’ve had lately?” His breath hot against her ear. 

She laughs, and elbows him in the side. “Stop that.”

“Okay, okay.” He runs his fingers down her sides gently. “How about you lean forward and put your hands on the closet… and spread your legs.”

“Something has happened to you since I saw you last,” she says, leaning forward and putting her hands on either side of the mirror.

He looks down at her ass and gives it a gentle slap, grinning as he grips his cigar between his teeth and unzips his pants, his dick standing to attention as soon as he releases it from the underpants he’d been forced to wear with the suit. Slowly starting to push inside her, he groans at how tight she is. Pulling her against him when he bottoms out, his mouth next to her ear again. 

“You’re so tight, Glory. Don’t think this man of yours can be giving you everything you need, hm?”

Gloria’s head spins. She loves Roger. Loves him. But the things Elvis is saying are turning her on so much. And he’s so good at this. 

“Hm?” He repeats, pulling back and thrusting into her, hard. 

She whimpers as he lets her body go and she falls against the mirror, looking at her own reflection smudged against the glass. He obviously wants an answer. 

“No…” she breathes, trying to get her hands back on the closet before he thrusts inside her again. 

“You like this?” He asks, starting to pick up a steady pace now, holding her hair to arch her back. “You like being fucked with this big dick?”

“Yes… Mr Presley…”

Smoke billows from his cigar as he continues to pound her pussy, watching his dick disappear into her over and over again, and then looking at her flushed, beautiful face in the mirror. She groans at the intensity of the feeling, knowing her second orgasm is coming soon. The sex was so good before, but this is unbelievable. She loves him being so dominant. 

He can feel her pussy clenching around him and it spurs him on to fuck her harder, knowing she must be getting close again. 

“Gonna come for me again?” He murmurs, mouth still around the cigar. 

“Yes… ohhhh…” she moans, feeling him hit that place inside her again and again. 

“Tell me I’m the best you’ve ever had.”

Her eyes go wide at his words, hands sliding onto the glass of the mirror, making it hard for her to stay upright. She manages to mumble, “mmm.”

“I wanna hear you say it,” he repeats. 

His impending orgasm is making him feel a little crazy, like he somehow wants to get one over on this guy who’s stealing his girl. His Glory. 

“You’re… the best… I’ve ever… had…” she pants, and then falls forward, her face against the mirror as he keeps going, relentless, fucking her like a man possessed. 

Her orgasm crashes into her with such force she almost screams, her walls squeezing him over and over as he continues to thrust. He moans and slams his palm against the closet as he comes deep inside her. Slowly, weakly pumping his hips a few more times and then falling against her fully. 

“Fuck me,” she says quietly, from between him and the closet mirror. “One TV special and you just think you’re God’s gift all of a sudden.” 

“Oh… ah… honey I-I…” he stammers, until he sees her face in the mirror, grinning at him. Realising she’s teasing. “Oh, you’re naughty.” 

He stands up and pulls her against him, his arms around her waist, growling into her ear. She giggles and squirms, but she’s enjoying the feeling of him still gradually softening inside her. He stops abruptly as he looks at the floor. 

“Ah. Shit.” Letting her go so he can pick up the cigar that is burning a hole in the carpet. 

She turns around and laughs. “Oh my God. Let’s try not to set the trailer on fire.” 

She admires him in the suit again as he puts the cigar out safely in an ashtray. But she wants to see his body now. 

“Let's get you out of this.” Her fingers undoing the buttons of his waistcoat. 

He smiles and lets her take his clothes off, feeling so much happier about his body now he’s lost that bit of extra weight. She stops to look at him once he’s naked, her hands exploring every inch of his skin as she follows her fingers with kisses. He’s lost the squishiness around his middle, and she’s almost sad about it. He’s so slight without clothes on, she wonders if he’s been eating enough. 

He’s still bashful though, laughing and blushing and asking her if she’s finished yet as she kneels down in front of him and runs her fingers down his legs. She giggles back, looking up at him through her lashes, wondering herself what on earth she’s doing. But she can’t stop, she even kisses his toes. She wants to touch every bit of him. His breathing is uneven as he stares down at her. No woman has ever done anything like this to him. She stands up again slowly and he takes her hand in his and leads her to the bed. They get under the covers and then just stare at one another, him absent-mindedly stroking her cheek as she runs her fingers through his hair. 

“So, what did ya think of the Special, then?” He finally asks. 

She grins. “Incredible. You were amazing. I’ve never seen you move like that before. And the songs… I loved the whole thing. You must be proud.”

He smiles a little. He supposes he is. “Yeah. I’m really proud of the way it turned out. The Colonel wanted a Christmas special, but Steve really stood up to him.”

“A Christmas special?”

“Yeah, he wanted snowmen and presents and me in a Christmas sweater…”

Gloria giggles. “Oh well I’m sure you would’ve looked cute, but… I mean that suit…” 

“You liked it?”

She puts her hand on his face, gently moving his hair back from his forehead. Some things hadn’t changed about him. He still needed constant reassurance. 

“Obviously I liked it, it was tight and it made you sweat.”

He laughs, and she thinks about how pronounced his cheekbones are now. 

“You think I look better than I did when I saw you last?” He asks, almost shyly. 

“I think you’re just fishing for compliments now,” she teases, her arm around him and her leg between his. 

“Well I think you look real good Glory,” he tells her, pulling her tightly against him and kissing her neck again. “Thought ya might want to compliment me back.”

She laughs, rolling him onto his back and biting his neck. “I told you how good you looked already. You’re so needy.”

He growls, easily overpowering her and rolling on top of her. “I’ve been dieting. And I love food. C’mon.”

He leans down and starts nibbling on her collarbone, making her giggle. “Don’t eat me!”

“No?” He raises an eyebrow and smirks. 

She shoves his chest, laughing, and pushes him back off her again. They tussle back and forth for a while, giggling until they’re both out of breath. 

“You looked good when we met and you look good now. I love you no matter how you look.” 

The words are out of her mouth before she notices the inclusion of the word love. She buries her head in his chest, wondering what to do next. Does she love him? Well, she certainly just said she does. Does he love her? He has a wife. 

Elvis looks down at her, stroking her hair gently. “I love you too, Glory.”

It doesn’t matter whether we love one another, she thinks. That’s irrelevant. She looks up, slowly. “Elvis, I’m getting married.”

“You don’t have ta.”

Gloria swallows, hard. “But you’re already married. And I want to… I… I’m going to marry Roger.”

“His name is Roger?” Elvis is struggling not to smirk. 

“Stop it!” She shoves him again, laughing. 

“He’s not going to satisfy you, Glory.”

“And neither are you, Elvis. You’re married and you have a baby, and a career. And I… can’t wait around for my own family.”

Elvis sighs. “Cilla and I aren’t… I mean, we don’t sleep together anymore…”

Gloria shakes her head. “I don’t want to hear this. I don’t… I’m getting married and that’s all there is to it.” She pauses for a moment. “But I’ll stay here tonight if you want me to.”

“Of course I want you to.”

Elvis feels jealousy coursing through his veins, the urge to find this Roger and tell him to call it off with her is huge and he wants to demand to know her address so he can go right now. He tries to swallow it all down. Maybe she’ll change her mind if she stays tonight. Surely he can persuade her if she stays in his trailer for the next week or so, until filming wraps. There’s no way they’re going to be able to stay apart now.

They spend the rest of the night talking, rather than sleeping, and several hours in Elvis remembers something he’d brought with him to set. He pulls out a polaroid camera, it’s big and expensive and it produces photographs immediately. Gloria’s eyes light up when he explains the concept to her. 

“Can I take some of you, honey?” He asks. 

She grins. “Dirty photos?”

He blushes, a little of the old insecurity back. “Well, only if ya want to…”

“Of course I want to! You fucked me in front of a mirror with your Walter Hale outfit on. Obviously I wanna do filthy stuff.”

He takes a few photos of her face, and then she starts to pose like a pin up girl so he takes photos of her like that. Then she starts to pose like the centrefold of a dirty mag and he takes some of her like that, too. He finds himself between her legs, taking a shot of her pussy and barely even blushing. After a while she holds her hands out. 

“C’mon. I want some of you.”

He looks a little uncomfortable, so she gets up and grabs his white hat and another cigar. 

“Here. Let me have one with you like this.”

She lies back on the bed and takes a photo of him leaning over her, smirking around the cigar. 

“That better just be my face.”

“That one was,” she replies, gesturing for him to lie on his back and getting up on her knees to take another. “But this one definitely isn’t.”

He grabs her waist and pulls her on top of him, and it’s all she can do to avoid hitting him with the camera. “Let’s see.”

They tussle again for a while and then sit up, looking through the photos. He tries to tell her she can’t keep the photo of his dick but she just giggles and tells him she’ll keep it from falling into the wrong hands. Eventually they fall asleep in one another’s arms. 

Gloria wakes up after only a couple of hours of sleep and looks at her watch. 6am. He’ll be awake in an hour or so to start filming again. She looks at him sleeping peacefully next to her. Then she looks at the photos again and smiles. Slips them into her handbag and gets dressed quietly. She can’t stay here. Can’t stay on set. She’ll just end up in his bed every night and then what will happen with her and Roger? Elvis will never commit to her like Roger has. She sighs, pulling on her boots and coat. 

She can’t wake him up or he’ll just beg her to stay. But she feels funny about leaving without saying anything too. She looks around briefly for a pen, and when she can’t find one she takes her lipstick out of her bag. Applying it to her lips she picks up one of the pin-up style photos he’d taken of her and presses a kiss to it. Turning it over she scrawls on the back. 

“Sorry big boy. You know I love you. Glory xx”

Quietly slipping out of the trailer she thinks she will probably never see him in person again. She sighs. Well, they’d at least had some fun.

***

Taglist:

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978 @wildhorseinkansas

[gwenllian-in-the-abbey]

What are some pro-team green fanfics you would recommend?

Ohh I've been meaning to recommend a few! Most of these are Aegon-centric because I'm generally more interested in him than Aemond, but there are a couple Aemond fics in here as well, and at least one that's Alicent centric.

a poison tree by @branwendaughterofllyr is a Dance retelling in which Daemon and Viserys' younger brother Aegon lived and had a daughter, and that daughter ended up being raised with the green children. Branwen tells a compelling story with great attention to historical detail, and although the story is green leaning, I feel it is fair to both sides. It has many POVs and really tells the story from many different angles, some some reliable than others.

My co-author @aifsaath's series The Skies Are Always Red Above Valyria is an entire Dance retelling that starts with Alicent as a lady at court before her marriage but eventually will progress to the Dance itself (and involves our beloved Baela/Aegon pairing). Aife's fics always feature impeccable worldbuilding and lush descriptions, so check them out.

The Wrath of the Queen by @florisbaratheons has just started but is very promising, featuring a more proactive Alicent who gets a cooperative if reluctant Aegon on board with her plan to put him on the throne following Driftmark, as well as fully fleshed out versions of the Baratheon and Lannister sisters. After seeing Cassandra Baratheon and Jason and/or Tyland Lannister cast as antagonists in dozens of Dance fics it's nice to see them get a fair shake.

The Dog Days Are Over is a Aegon/Helaena fix-it by @franzkafkagfn which they escape to Essos to start over with the kids. She also has another Aegon/Rhaenyra fic that is I'd say slightly more green slanted simply because much of the rest of the canon black faction doesn't exist per se.

This one has been on hiatus awhile but In The Ripe and Ruin by @kingsroad will forever have my heart as the first OC fic I ever got into, featuring gorgeous worldbuilding and one of my favorite iterations of Aegon. He's awful but also incredibly endearing. According to the author it's not going to be super canon divergent, and OC is Aegon's mistress through the Dance! Crossing my fingers that the author returns soon!

Would That They Were Not is a one shot by @navree that deals with Blood and Cheese and Aemond's feelings of guilt in the aftermath. It's heartbreaking! Blood and Cheese happens here the way it does in the book so if the show ends up changing it and you want an idea of how it might have gone down, this one is very faithful.

1968 is a modern AU by @inthedayswhenlandswerefew In which the wife of presidential candidate Aemond Targaryen, who is running against Richard Nixon in the 1968 election, forms a connection with the family screw up, his older brother Aegon. This is technically a readerfic (hear me out!), although I'd really call it a 2nd person POV because the "you" is a fully fleshed out character more so than a reader insert. I do not usually go for readerfic but opened this on a whim because the history teacher in me saw the premise and went "what on earth" and proceeded to be blown away by delicate character work, symbolism, and gorgeous prose. I actually got several friends who do not usually enjoy Dance fic OR readerfic fully invested in this one. Is it pro green? I guess? It's not set in Westeros and Aemond is a real POS but Aegon is lovely and the blacks don't really feature so I think it counts.

[athanza]

Starlett - Final part

Cooper Howard/fem!OC (not self-insert)

Tags: Hurt/comfort (sort of?), non-allowed romantic connection, lots of tention, pre and post war drama, romance, some fluff

Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse (no graphic scenes or descriptions of that nature), angst, canon wasteland violence

This branches out from canon but I thought it was a cute story idea so I had to write it. Enjoy! ♡

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

2077

That night, after dinner, Irene found Cooper on the sofa with Janey asleep on his lap, watching an old noire film with the volume down low.

"Thank you very much for dinner Mr. H- Cooper." She corrected herself, speaking low so as not to wake Janey. "It was lovely."

He looked up as she walked over. "It was no trouble at all. Janey loved having you here."

She smiled at his daughters sleeping face as she sat down on the edge of the sofa. "You've got a good kid there."

He looked down at her proudly. "Yeah, I sure do."

"She reminds me of my baby sister, she lives with my folks in Sacramento. I don't get to see her much anymore with my work and everything with Frank and Lee. It'll be good to see her again."

"How long has it been?"

"Almost 2 years. I know my sister resents me for how much I'm away, but hopefully that'll change now that I'll be away from Frank, at least until the divorce proceedings." She sighed with uneasiness.

"You'll be fine." Said Cooper encouragingly. "You're stronger than you think."

"Ditto." She smiled warmly. "And don't worry about Janey, you both love her so much. She'll understand when she's older, I promise."

He smiled, touched by her words. "Thank you."

She looked into his eyes and saw something she never had, a good man, a man who loves unconditionally and stands up for his family.

She, just for a moment, imagined what it would be like if he was her husband instead of Frank, if Janey were their daughter, if this was her life and not the daily abuse she had been going home to every night.

She could feel emotions begin to well behind her eyes and she snapped out of it before she embarrassed herself.

"Well, I should get some sleep, I'll be leaving early tomorrow. Thank you again."

The warmness that emanated from her was a welcome comfort in the midst of everything that had happened in the last few months. He almost didn't want her to leave, but he couldn't let himself fall, not now, not for her. They were meant for another time, another world, not this one.

"Irene?" Said Cooper, stopping her before she left. "This whole thing with Vault Tec...something's happening, something I'm not sure we'll ever come back from.

You're free from it now. Whatever's coming...it won't be worth giving up your happiness."

What he said about Vault Tec concerned her, not that it was surprising, but he was right about her happiness, he was right about everything. She wasn't going to be held back any longer.

"Thank you." She said, smiling softly.

2296

The sky was still dark when he left the cave. He'd covered Irene with whatever he could find to try to conceal her from raiders, hoping nothing else would find her while he was gone.

He knew there was a clinic in this area somewhere but whether it had anything left in it was a gamble.

As he made his way hastily through the area, he couldn't stop thinking about her and it just made him angry, 219 years of trying to become the monster that he had to be in order to survive, only for her to show up and remind him of that warmth that he'd long since forgotten. It made him weak, but he couldn't let her die, not now.

He heard movement up ahead, two men laughing drunkenly as they stumbled to find somewhere to relieve themselves.

Raiders.

The cages and skewered bodies around the building were a dead give-away and their little base just happened to be the clinic he was looking for.

Jackpot. They definitely had a stash in there somewhere.

The two men separated to find somewhere to piss but just as one got comfortable, Cooper blast his head off and took the other one out just a split second later.

"Oh HELL no!" Came a voice from the doorway of the clinic.

Without hesitation, Cooper shot him too, a bloody mess left on the door frame behind where he had been standing.

He stormed inside, his pump-action shotgun in hand, willing to use up all of his ammo to get what he needed.

Bullets and wood chips were flying every which way, and he took a bullet or two, but it took him no time at all to obliterate every person in that building.

He searched hastily for supplies, and when he found a first aid box full of stimpaks and cotton thread, he grabbed it and left, picking up several blood packs on his way out.

2077

The next morning, Irene was up early, her bag already in her car when Cooper came out to meet her.

"You weren't kiddin' about leavin' early." He said, the clock in the hallway reading 7:12am.

"I thought it'd be best if I left earlier rather than later."

He knew why. He didn't argue.

"Give this to Janey for me, would you? I noticed she liked it and I know it'll be in good hands."

She handed Cooper a silver locket with a daisy engraved delicately on the front.

He looked at it a bit surprised. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I don't much care for it anymore. It'll be more appreciated with her." She smiled.

She did one last check of her purse to make sure she had everything and the tention in the air was starting to thicken. When she knew she had everything, she looked back up at him.

"Cooper?" She asked. "Do me a favour and don't let the world harden that heart of yours, ok? That part of people is important, even if it makes us feel weak, always remember that, ok?"

She leant forward and kissed his cheek. "See you 'round cowboy."

She smiled at him one last time before getting in her car, and as he watched her drive away he felt his heart ache a little. He would miss her, her warm smiles, and how she made Janey laugh, but it wasn't meant to be, and he knew that.

2296

He pulled off the foliage covering her now pale body and opened the case.

Her breathing was shallow and laboured, a puddle of blood underneath her that had started to coagulate.

He used one of the stimpaks, then another, then another until he had used all six, then pulled out the thread and started sewing up the deep gashes on her side that were sticky with blood.

He remembered the last time he saw her, her smile, the kiss. He remembered watching her drive away and wishing she hadn't. He remembered the last things she said to him.

"...don't let the world harden that heart of yours, ok? That part of people is important, even if it makes us feel weak..."

When he finished sewing, he hung up one of the blood bags and attached the long tube to her arm.

He was still and focused, hoping he wasn't too late, his hands now covered in her blood.

When she woke up after only a few minutes, she saw him sitting by the fire beside her and smiled sleepily.

"Hey there cowboy."

The End

[callsign-magnolia]

Undiagnosed // Ch. 17

Mature Content 18+

Jake Seresin x Neurodivergent OC

Summary: Katie Blair grew up trying to be the perfect daughter. She always struggled to be the prim and proper little girl her parents wanted. Big personality as a kid, but now at 25, she's the shy admiral's daughter who just keeps her head down and tries to get through law school. So what happens when she's had enough and with help from a certain Lieutenant, she gets out.

Warnings: Emotional abuse, trauma response, abusive parents, smut.

Word Count: 6.1k

Chapter 16 | Masterlist

I shook the entire ride to the venue. Jake held my hand in the backseat of the Bronco, calming me with his words. “I told you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you and I won’t.” He whispered into my ear before kissing my hair. “You promise?” I joked. I knew he was serious but I needed to lighten the mood, to get this weight off me. “I swear, darlin’.” His arm rested across my shoulder and held me close until we arrived. “Stay here.” He told me before him and Bradley slipped out, walking around to mine and Natasha’s side. Jake opened my door and kindly helped me out. “Careful with her, man.” Bradley said as he tossed the valet his keys before wrapping Nat’s arm around his. The hotel was a gorgeous stone structure towering over everything around it. We walked inside and all I saw were dress whites and ball gowns. “There are a lot of people here.” I said, squeezing his arm a little tighter. He just rested his free hand over mine and nodded. “There are. But it’s okay, no one here will say anything to your parents, coop or anyone else that would tell them.” I furrowed my brows as we stepped into the elevator. “How do you know?” I asked, looking up at him. “We may or may not have gone around to everyone who's attending and asked them not to say anything.” Natasha answered. I just stared at them, mouth gaping in disbelief. “You did?” I asked quietly and they all nodded. 

They all went out of their way to make sure that no one would tell my parents where I was. This is what having real friends was like. I was broken out of my thoughts as Jake tugged me from the elevator and into a grand ballroom. It was extravagant to say the least. “So what exactly is this ball for?” I asked. “The fiftieth anniversary of Top Guns' founding.” My eyebrows shot up and I stopped walking. “He’s not here. He may be Fleet Commander, but Admiral Simpson is the air boss. He runs Top Gun. Plus your dad is in a meeting back on base with the rest of the brass.” I took a deep breath just as a familiar face stepped closer. “Hey Mav.” Bradley said, pulling Maverick into a hug. Once he let go he came over to Jake and I. “Hi, Katie.” He said before pulling me into a quick hug. “Hi, Mav.” I said. “I’m glad you decided to come. Hangman here has been talking about this non stop for weeks.” He said and I raised a brow at Jake. “Oh, really now?” He nodded, a blush creeping up his neck. 

“You should’ve seen him when he came in after you said yes.” Mav laughed. “Okay, why don’t we go sit down in our seats.” Jake said, gently pulling me away. He walked us over to a table where everyone else was. “Hi guys.” I greeted. Bob quickly stood, hugging me gently before kissing my cheek. “You look beautiful.” He said and I gave him a small smile. “Thank you.” As he stepped away Payback pulled me into a hug, then Fanboy, then Coyote. “It’s good to see you. Hangman’s been hiding away with you. We haven’t seen him much outside of work.” Coyote said as Jake pulled out my chair for me. I felt my face heat up at his words. “I’m sorry.” I muttered, my fingers playing with the skirt of my dress, rubbing it between my thumb and pointer finger. The feel of the soft material was almost calming. “Eh, don’t apologize. It’s been good for him.” Fanboy said and everyone laughed as Jake waved them off. “Alright now, I haven’t changed that much!” He said. “I wonder how Katie’s class is going?” Payback asked. “I should call Katie and check in with her.” Coyote said. “I can’t wait to get home and listen to Katie do her homework. She’s so smart.” Fanboy added and I turned to Jake. 

He had his head downcast, not looking at me or anyone else as a red color climbed his neck. I smiled, grabbing his hand from his lap, intertwining our fingers. He picked his head up and I met his eyes. “You’re so sweet.” I whispered before leaning over and kissing his cheek. Everyone oohed at us and it was my turn to blush. “How is school going, Katie?” Bob asked. “Good. Midterms are creeping up fast, but Jake has been a big help with studying.” I said, my hand resting on his arm. “What? Does he give you a kiss every time you get an answer right?” Payback teased. We haven’t done that, but I can’t say I haven’t thought about it. Maybe now that the idea has been put in his head he’ll try it. “Actually he’ll quiz me while we make dinner, or while we’re cleaning.” They nodded and Jake, still holding my hand lifted it, resting our intertwined fingers on the table. 

We heard a noise behind us and turned to see Cyclone taking the stage. “Good evening.” He said, holding up what seemed to be a glass of scotch. “It’s wonderful to have you all here to celebrate the founding of the Navy Strike Fighter Tactics Instructor program, or as we all know it, Top Gun.” Everyone cheered, the noise startling me. I jumped slightly and Jake laid his hand on my back. Cyclone launched into a long speech and as soon as he was finished, food was brought out. Waiters set our food in front of us and I looked at Jake. “You didn’t tell me this was a dinner.” I said and he gave me a sheepish look. “You kind of gave me last minute notice. But I got you the chicken.” I looked down at the food in front of me, it looked good and that’s when I realized how hungry I really was. 

We ate and talked, it was just a nice evening. Not long after we finished eating, Jake got up to go speak to someone but I still kept looking over my shoulder, waiting to see my parents and Bob must have noticed. “Come on.” He said as he stood, holding out his hand. “What?” I asked and he smiled at me. “You need a distraction. So let’s dance.” I stared at his hand for a minute but slid my hand into his. He led me out onto the dance floor where the other couples were. He held my right hand in his, my left rested on his shoulder as his free hand rested on my waist. “You’re tense.” He said and I scoffed. “You would be too if you were in my position.” I said. He just chuckled and smiled at me. “I would be. But you have nothing to worry about.” I huffed. “I know you keep saying that but-” “Even if they did show up, we wouldn’t let anything happen.” I smiled at him. “That means a lot.” I said as we danced. 

Everytime the song changed I was dancing with someone new. I made it through almost the entire team when Bradley took the next dance. “I’m glad you came.” He said as he took my hand. “I’m actually glad I came too.” I told him. I was finally relaxing, not as tense as I was earlier. “Maybe soon we can take you to The Hard Deck.” I furrowed my brows. “Isn’t that the bar you guys like to go to?” I asked and he nodded. “Mav’s girlfriend Penny owns it. I actually think she’s here somewhere. I’ll have to introduce you when we see her.” I nodded in agreement. “I’d like that.” I told him. Halfway through our dance Jake came over. “Mind if I cut in?” He asked and Bradley stepped away, heading back to Natasha as Jake took my hand. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself.” He said and I nodded. “I am. Thank you for the invite.” I said and he chuckled. “Thank you for saying yes.” I smiled up at him before laying my head on his shoulder. His hand rested on my back, his thumb rubbing up and down, calming me even more. We quietly danced and when the song was over he looped my arm through his. “Let’s go get a drink.” He said and I nodded, letting him lead me towards the table full of champagne. 

“Here darlin’.” Jake said, handing me a flute. “Thank you.” He grabbed his own glass, clinking it with mine before he kissed my cheek. “Well don’t you two make a cute pair?” I froze at the voice behind me. Jake’s hand tightened around my waist. “What are you doing here, Coop?” He asked. Jake set down his glass, turning us to face him. He kept a hold of me, tucking me into his side. “What? Am I not allowed to party too? Maverick gave Richardson and I quite a bit of work specifically to keep us from attending.” He swayed slightly and he had a glassy look in his eyes. “Are you drunk?” Jake asked and he scoffed. “It’s a party! I figured I’d indulge a little.” He said as he took a step closer and I immediately gripped Jake a little tighter. 

“Your daddies been looking for you.” He said tauntingly as he pointed at me. I swallowed the fear creeping up my throat “Well he can kiss my ass for all I care. I’m never going back.” I said as I glared at him. “Ooh! You grew some nerve since you left!” He swiped a glass of champagne from the table, taking another step closer. “It’s okay. It won’t be hard to beat it out of you.” Jake attempted to move me behind him but I stopped him. “I’m done being fucking scared of you and everyone else. I’m not gonna let you do shit to me and neither is Jake!” He just laughed in my face. “You think Hangman is gonna stop anyone?” He asked loudly, drawing attention. “Kate, baby. Do you remember your very first conversation with him?” He asked and I furrowed my brows. “After Iceman’s funeral?” It took me a minute but I remembered. “I paid him a hundred bucks to talk to you.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “He wouldn’t have talked to you if I hadn’t paid him. He even came back and told us all about how he thought you were weird and he would never speak to you again for even a million bucks.” A lump formed in my throat and tears threatened to gather in my eyes. 

“Go ahead, Hangman. Tell her about it.” I whipped around to face Jake and he flinched from the angry look on my face. “Darlin’-” “Is it true?” I seethed. His face fell and he sighed. “Is. It. True?” My hands were fisted at my sides, shaking slightly. “Yes. The first part is true-” I reared my hand back before flinging it across his face. The skin on skin contact echoed across the room and people stopped to look at us. Jake’s eyes were wide and his face was turned away from me. “How fucking dare you! I just- I can’t-” I just screamed at him, not able to form words. With that I turned and stormed away from him, gripping my skirt tightly in my hands. I shoulder checked Coop as I passed him, sending him into the table. Tears streaked my face as I walked through the doors, slamming them open and storming down the hall. Once I rounded the corner I took a deep breath, a sob taking up my exhale. I leaned against the wall, my head knocking into it but I didn’t care. It’s the same. It’s always the same. 

I gave myself a minute before I took a deep breath, halting my tears. No more crying, I’m done with the tears. I stood straight, wiping beneath my eyes. “Fuck.” I muttered, turning to walk down the hallway but screamed out as someone pulled my hair. “You think you can ruin my reputation and get away with it?” My blood ran cold as my fathers voice hissed in my ear. My hands were behind my head, gripping his hands but I brought my right one down, ramming my elbow back into my ribs. It was weak but enough for him to loosen his grip. I yanked my head away from him, surely losing some hair in the process. “I’m done pretending to be your perfect daughter! Fuck off!” I yelled. His hand flew out and he grabbed my neck. My hands flew up and gripped his wrist, hoping to pry his hands off of me but it was no use. He jerked me towards him, staring into my eyes. “You think you can run from me?” He asked. I glared at him before spitting in his face. He yelled before squeezing my neck. I thought he would choke me but he threw me to the ground instead. 

I managed to catch myself, keeping my head from bouncing off the floor. “YOU WILL RESPECT ME!!” “HEY!” I looked up, seeing Bradley and Bob rushing over. I managed to stand, stopping them from attacking him. “I have no respect for you. I don’t think I ever have. You’re weak! Tossing me around like I’m some kind of ragdoll because you can’t control your own rage! I’m not the one who’s going to ruin your image, you are!” He stepped forward, reaching out again but a voice stopped him. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Natasha rounded the corner, holding up her phone. “You’d lose your position if this got out.” She said, coming to stand next to me. “And if you put another hand on Katie, it will get out.” She said, smirking. “Lieutenant Trace, you delete that right now or I will have you dishonorably discharged.” She just smirked at him. “I’ll release this and you’ll be court-martialed within twenty-four hours.” With all the evidence I have against him, it could cost him his entire career. 

“So why don’t we just all walk away from this?” She asked with a smirk. I nodded. “Good idea. I'm tired.” I said, turning on my heel and walking away from them. “This isn’t over!” My father yelled and I just gave him the finger. I walked back into the ballroom and Jake rushed over. “Katie, darlin’ please. What happened?” He asked when he noticed my hair. “Just a run in with my dad.” I said and he stopped me as he gently grabbed my biceps. “Where is he?” He asked, his green eyes darkening. “Don’t worry about it. Natasha took care of it. Besides, I’m weird aren’t I? You also haven’t been paid a million bucks so why are you talking to me?” I pushed past him and headed over to the table which had my small bag. “You okay?” Fanboy asked and I sighed. “No. I’m sure Jake will explain at work.” I said before turning and walking away. I felt bad for being rude to them but I couldn’t talk about it. “Let’s go.” I said to Jake as I walked past him. We squeezed into the elevator with Bradley and Natasha and I stood quietly not even looking at him. Once we stepped outside the cool air felt good but my rage was bubbling inside, threatening to explode out of me. 

Jake attempted to help me into the Bronco but I smacked his hand away. Opting to gather my skirt and hoist myself into the back seat. I slid clear across the seat putting space between Jake and I. "Darlin'?" I held up my hand. cutting him aff. "I'm not speaking to you until I know I won't knock your teeth in." I was so angry I probably could've broken his nose, but that wouldn't make me feel better. Or would it? I shook my head. No. It wouldn't. Bradley drove us home in a loud silence. Everyone wanted to say something, I knew it but I wasn’t up to talk to Jake or about my father. Once we arrived Bradley got out before I could and opened my door. I let him help me out and before I could walk away he pulled me into a hug. “You call me if you need anything. Okay?” Even though I was angry, his words brought tears to my eyes. “Okay.” He kissed my head before he let me go. I turned for the door which Jake had already unlocked. I stormed past him, into the house and headed for the stairs. 

“Darlin’-” “Just… Just stop.” I said, looking up at the ceiling to keep the tears at bay. “I just… I should’ve known better, you know?” I said as I took a deep breath. “It’s always the fucking same.” My head snapped to him and he looked so… sad. “Did you get off on it? Did it give you some kind of thrill to make the weird girl think you cared? Because that’s sick if that’s the case.” My voice became harsher and he physically flinched. “No! Darlin, I would never.” I glared at him. “Is that why you won’t have sex with me? You think I’m weird?” I snapped as I narrowed my eyes at him. “What? No!” He said with a confused look on his face. “Then why? I want fucking answers Jake!” I said as I slapped my hands together. “Why did you say all those things and why won’t you fuck me?! So help me god if I don’t get answers I’m packing my shit and I’m out!” “I never said those things! Coop lied! I actually enjoyed our conversation till your bitch of a mother interrupted us. You can ask Rooster, Phoenix, anyone and they’ll tell you that I came back and said how awful your mother was and that I felt bad for you. But then Coop got in my head and that’s why I was an ass!” 

“Fine. I’ll text Nat. She’ll tell me the truth.” I texted Natasha and asked her what exactly Jake said after our first conversation. “You think I’m lying?” He asked astounded. “I don’t know! I don’t know anymore, Jake! I thought I knew you but I guess not! You can’t even tell me why you won’t sleep with me! I have been trying for weeks and you just brush it off!” He groaned out, throwing his hat across the room before he rounded on me. “YOU WANNA KNOW WHY I WON’T HAVE SEX WITH YOU?!” “THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN ASKING ISN’T IT?!” I yelled. “I wanted your first time to be special! There! You happy? I didn’t want it to feel like a quick fuck! I’ve been trying to come up with some way that I could make your first experience special!” I furrowed my brows in confusion. “My first time?” I asked and then it clicked. “You think i’m a fucking virgin?!” I yelled and he seemed shocked. 

“You’re not?” It was a quiet question, his neck flushing pink with embarrassment. “No! It’s been over two years but I’ve had sex before! God Jake! I’m twenty-five!” He shrugged. “I didn’t know! You seemed so sheltered that I didn’t think you ever slept with anyone!” I scoffed. “Oh I did, and it was all to piss off my father!” I snapped back and it was like the tension in the room snapped. The air didn’t feel as heavy but I still felt so angry. My heart was racing and my adrenaline was pumping. I felt like the only way I was gonna calm down was to run or something. Jake’s face fell and I could tell he was sorry but I still wanted to knock him out. My phone buzzed and I looked at it seeing Nat’s response. It was my turn to feel bad. I huffed, rubbing my face with my hands, not caring if I ruined my makeup. “I’m sorry.” Jake said and it almost made me more angry. “I’m still mad at you.” I didn’t really have a reason to be now, but my anger didn’t just go away. I guess that’s where my father and I are alike. “You were right, Coop lied but I’m still angry.” I kicked off my heels and went upstairs. “Where are you going? Katie, I think we should still talk.” I scoffed. “I don’t think we should talk until I’ve calmed down because you have no idea how bad I want to fucking throttle you!” 

I stormed into my bedroom and attempted to slam the door but he stopped it. “Throttle me?” I whirled on him. “Yes! I want so badly to just hit you! I’m so damn angry I feel like I could kick holes in the walls!” I squeezed my hands, attempting to keep them by my side. “I feel like I could run a goddamn marathon!” I yelled. “Deep breath. How can I help?” “You can’t!” I yelled, jerking my harm from his grasp and turning away from him. “Just leave me alone!” It was quiet for a moment and I attempted to calm down when he suddenly turned me to face him and his lips crashed into mine. I squeaked and pushed on his chest until he released me and my hand came up, slapping him in the face for the second time tonight. “Do it again.” I furrowed my brows in confusion. “What?” “If you wanna hit me, hit me. If you want to knock my teeth out, do it. Anything that’s gonna make you feel better.” His hand came up, knuckles brushing against my cheek. “Fuck it out of me.” My chest was heaving and I was breathless. ��What?” Now he was confused. “Fuck me, Jake.” He stared at me before he grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me into a heated kiss. 

My hands came up gripping the front of his dress whites a moan escaping me as he bit down on my bottom lip. “Fuck.” He backed me up until my back was pressed against the wall. ”Jake.” I whined. My hands drifted lower until my fingers brushed the button on his pants. “Uh uh.” He said, grabbing my hands and pinning them by my head. He kissed just under my jaw and my back slightly arched off of the wall. “I’m gonna take my time with you, darlin’.” My breath caught in my throat at his words. “You gonna be a good girl for me?” He asked, his hand gently gripping my throat and I grinned at him. “Why don’t you find out?” He just grinned at me before he slammed his lips into mine again. He let my hands go and I tossed them around his neck. I squealed when he smacked my ass. "Jump." I didn't hesitate before jumping and wrapping my legs around his waist. He pressed me back into the wall, causing a moan to escape me. "The bed." I whined against his lips "You want the bed?" He knew that's what I wanted, he just wanted to tease me. I nodded, lips pressing against his cheek before moving to his jaw. "Alright darlin’." He pulled me away from the wall and walked over to the bed before carefully laying me down. Like magnets our lips found each others again. I arched my back, my chest pressing into his. "My dress." I moaned, the fabric of my dress rubbing against my nipples. "Oh no. The dress is staying on." He sat up on his knees and I could tell just how hard he was. “Oh it is?" I asked, looking up at him through my lashes. He ran his hands along the sides of my thighs before gripping them and lifting. 

I bit my lip and held his gaze as he leaned down between my legs. I watched in anticipation and gasped as his nose nudged me through my panties. "You're soaked." He said as he brought his hand up, a knuckle pressing into me before he tugged the fabric to the side. "This thin little thong did nothing to hide it from me." I moaned as he ran a finger through my wetness before slowly pushing into me. I whined, hand reaching behind my head and gripping the pillow. "C'mon darlin. Tell me how it feels." I moaned, hips rolling into his hand. "Good." I gasped as he added a second finger. “Jake. Stop teasing." I begged and he chuckled. "This isn't teasing. This is foreplay. I have to get you warmed up." He sat up, leaning over me. His free hand came to rest on the side of my neck, his other hand continuously pumping in and out of me.

"You're not leaving this bed until I've pulled every orgasm I possibly can from you." His words struck something deep in my belly and I moaned, arching up into him. “You're going to cum on my fingers, my tongue and my cock. By the time I'm done with you, you won't even remember why you were mad in the first place." With that he lowered himself between my legs again, fingers still working inside me. But I cried out in shock as his tongue roughly licked my clit. His eyes met mine before he gripped my thighs, separating them until the sides of my knees pressed into the mattress. His tongue flicked my clit before he added a third finger and I whined. "Can't wait to bury my cock in you. You're so fuckin' tight darlin'.” He curled his fingers and after a few thrusts he brushed one spot inside me and everything went hazy. "Jake." I moaned out. "I know. You're so close, darlin’." He licked my clit again and my body jolted. "Cum for me, Katie." A fire started in my belly and it felt like flames erupted as Jake wrapped his lips around my clit and sucked harshly. I wanted to close my legs but he pulled his fingers from me and used both hands to pin my knees on the bed. 

“Jake!" I squealed, but he didn't stop. He continued to suck until my hands gripped his blonde locks and my legs shook. He stopped sucking and I took a deep breath. I thought he was done, but was startled when his tongue prodded my entrance.  He slipped his tongue in, licking me as he buried his face in my pussy. I was still gripping his hair as I rolled my hips against his face, riding his tongue. After a moment he pulled away and sat up. He smiled at me as my chest heaved. He leaned over me, hands resting next to my head. His left hand moved to rest on the side of my neck. "Good girl." Those two words had me preening for him. "So good for me." He kissed my neck and I dragged my heel along the back of his calf. "You gonna take my lock like a good girl too?" I nodded. "Yes." I moaned out. I reached between us, feeling how hard he was in his dress whites. He groaned before grabbing my hand, intertwining our fingers and grinding his clothed length into my bare core. "Jake, please." He groaned and sat up. "I don't think I could ever tell you no." He went to take his jacket off but I sat up, stopping him. "If my dress stays on, so does the uniform." He stared at me for a minute before he grinned. He reached and unbuttoned his pants, I leaned back on the bed again and I couldn't help but spread my legs wider. He freed himself from the confines of his boxers and I stilled. I forgot how big he was and how heavy he felt on my tongue. He leaned in, kissing me again. I tasted myself on his tongue, a taste I never imagined I'd enjoy. My hands rested on his biceps as he lined himself up. "You sure?” I nodded, rolling my hips. "Please." I've been waiting so long, I am not above begging. He pressed his forehead to mine as he pushed in. I bit my lip, feeling the head of his cock slip past my entrance. He pushed farther in and I could feel my walls stretching to accommodate his size. "You okay?" He asked, thumb brushing my cheek. That's when I noticed the tears. 

He pushed in farther and I gasped. "Talk to me, darlin’." I struggled to find the words and when I finally did it was only two words. "So big." He chuckled before kissing his way across my jaw. "I know. I know, but you're doing so good for me." He slowly withdrew before pushing back into me. It wasn't long before he found a steady rhythm, hips rocking into mine. I gripped my thighs, pulling my legs back against. my chest. Jake leaned forward, broad shoulders keeping my legs back as he kissed me. "Gonna cum for me, darlin’? " My moans were growing louder as the trimmed hairs at the base of his cock rubbed against my clit. "Jake." I was writhing beneath him, my second orgasm coming in quick. “Fuck!” I yelled out before clinging to him. He kissed me as my orgasm washed over me, his hips not stopping as I fluttered around him. “Squeezing me so tight, darlin’.” He said, moving to kiss my neck before slowing his thrusts, eventually stopping. “You okay?” He asked and I nodded, pulling him into another kiss. “Take it off.” I said, starting to unbutton his jacket. I needed him out of his uniform, totally naked. “Woah,” He gently grabbed my hands. “We got time, darlin’.” I just leaned up, kissing him. “Sooner we strip, the more time we have.” He immediately sat up, pulling out before he stripped. He had to unzip my dress for me and he carefully pulled it off of me, laying it across the chair in the corner. He wrapped his arms around my waist, pressing kisses to my shoulder. 

“I’ve been dying to get my hands on you. Especially since you decided to lay out topless.” His hands came up, pawing at my breasts. He took one of my nipples between his fingers, rolling it harshly, making me hiss. “Mm, I did that for you.” I said breathily, pushing my ass back into him. He turned me around, picking me up again before gently laying me on the bed again. He lined himself up, slowly pushing in again. I know we just finished, but I felt the burn of the stretch all over again. “Jake.” I moaned as he bottomed out. “Look so pretty underneath me.” He muttered, lips dragging across my chest. “Jake.” He picked his head up, looking at me. I brought my hand up, cradling his face as he looked at me. “Don’t be gentle with me.” I said and he raised a brow. “You sure? Just a few minutes ago you had tears rolling down your cheeks.” He said and I nodded. “I like it. When you’re not gentle with me.” He searched my eyes for any kind of hesitation, but when he found none, he nodded. I pulled him into another kiss just as he started thrusting into me. I moaned into the kiss and was surprised when he pulled away, sitting up. His large hands held my hips, his thrusts becoming harsher. “Fuck! Jake, yes!” I moaned out, my hands reaching out, resting on his knees. “Look at you, my good girl taking my cock so well.” I never knew words could affect me this way, but all I wanted was praise from him. 

He grabbed my legs, moving them to one shoulder as he fucked me. “Ngh, Jake!” I whined. “So full.” He took up every free space inside me and I wanted him impossibly closer. I sat up, pulling him into another kiss. “Stop.” Immediately everything stopped and he looked at me with wide eyes. “You okay? Did I hurt you?” I pushed him to sit up by the head board and crawled into his lap. “Not in any way I didn’t like.” I reached behind me, lining him up before I sunk down around him. “Fuck, Katie darlin’. You’re so tight.” His head fell back against the headboard as I stilled. “I love the way you feel inside me, Jake.” I moaned in his ear, lips attaching to his neck. His hands held my waist before he gripped my ass attempting to move me. “Bounce on my cock, darlin’. Be a good girl for me.” I did as he said, slowly finding a rhythm that had us both moaning loudly. My hands rested on his shoulders, head falling back as I gasped and moaned. “I’m gonna cum.” With that he held me still, fucking up into me. “I’m not done with you yet.” He said before he lifted me off of him and laid me on my back again. 

He grabbed my ankles, pushing my knees by my head again. “You’re gonna take my cock like a good girl and you’ll cum when I tell you too.” I don’t know if I could do it. But I wanted to, I wanted to try. He entered me in one thrust and I moaned loudly, hands gripping his wrist as he held my legs back. He was brutal in his thrusts and I encouraged it. “Jake! Right there! Oh god!” I threw my head back, hardly able to form a coherent sentence. “You like that?” He leaned down closer, letting go of my legs, allowing me to wrap them around his waist. He gently cradled my neck, no pressure as he stared into my eyes. “You like taking my cock?” I moaned, tears flowing down my cheeks. “Yes! Fucking love it!” I yelled out and he smirked, leaning down and taking one of my nipples between his lips. I buried my fingers in his hair, keeping him there as he buried his cock in me. “Jake, I’m gonna cum!” I yelled out and he smirked. “Cum around my cock, darlin’. Make a mess for me.” Seconds later my back was arching off the bed, toes curling as he buried himself inside me. He pulled out and I sat up. “C’mere.” I reached for him, leaning down as I jerked him off. “Oh shit. YOu don’t have to darlin’.” I shook my head, tongue darting out to lick the tip of his cock and that’s all it took. 

Hot ropes of cum shot out of his cock and landed on my face. I closed my eyes, letting him coat my face as he threw his head back, throaty moans leaving him. Once he was done I opened my eyes and looked up at him. Our chests were heaving and I sat up. “Goddamn.” He muttered, sitting up on his knees and pulling me into a kiss, not caring that his own cum was covering my face. “Let’s get you cleaned up, darlin’.” He smiled at me, getting up and going to my bathroom and grabbing a warm wash rag before he came back, wiping my face clean before he cleaned between my legs as well. I laid back on top of the covers before Jake stood, grabbing his uniform. Panic settled in my chest as he headed for the door. “Jake?” I asked as he reached for the doorknob. He looked at me, eyebrows raised. “Will you… will you stay?” I fully expected him to say no, but relief settled in me as he smiled and walked over. “Of course. Let me put my uniform away.” I nodded and he walked out. I pulled the covers down and crawled under them, waiting. Five minutes went by before he came back, smiling at me as he crawled under the covers next to me. “How do you feel?” He asked, turning on his side and propping himself up on his elbow. “Better. A lot better. Thank you.” I said, looking at him. He leaned down, kissing me gently. “Do you regret it?” I asked and he quickly shook his head. “No. I never could.” His thumb brushed my cheek and my eyes fluttered closed. A yawn hit me and he chuckled. “Let’s get some sleep.” He said, sliding down in bed and pulling me into him. “Honestly, I could go again.” He just chuckled. “Not tonight.” He said as a yawn of his own hit him. “Trust me, this won’t be the last time.” I closed my eyes, pressing back into him. He placed a kiss on my shoulder before kissing the back of my head. “Goodnight, Jake.” I muttered. “Goodnight, darlin’.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[endereies]

FUCK IT - MATT STURNIOLO - PART 7

Spotify Playlist:

Pairing: Matt x Oc

Contains: Growing up with parents who make her feel isolated, what happens when she meets Matt. A person who introduces her to new people, new experiences and new feelings.

Requested?: no

Author's notes: This chapter was so hard to write and for why :,)

Word Count: 2489

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

“Is this something we are meant to do?”

“Fuck it.”

7:30am

Alyia pov:

I groaned, burying myself under the warm covers, hiding myself from the rays of lights that had started to creep through my curtains. My arms rested above my head, finger-combing my hair gently trying to find a small way to pass the time. Another morning of pure silence wasn’t one I was willing to opt for. I sigh and reach my arm over to grab my headphones, and take them out of the case. My phone lay next to them and I connect my headphones to my phone as I scroll through Spotify. One of my old playlists grabs my attention and I put it on to shuffle.

Softcore – The Neighbourhood

I make sure that the volume is high enough that I can’t hear anything else around me clearly. The music distracts me from any other silence in my house, but this time it isn’t necessary. I walk down stairs drowsily while rubbing my eyes somewhat. Once I get to the bottom of the stairs, I notice my parents both sat down on the sofa, my father preparing some eggs in a bowl and my mother applying some makeup. I look around and notice bags of suitcases around the sofa and I know they must have only arrived this morning.

“Ally! There you are. I was beginning to think you had forgotten about school.” I can barely make out my father’s words, still having my headphones in my ear. I take them out, however, so that I could talk to him.

“Father…When did you two get home...?” I walk towards him, giving him a side hug while he pours the eggs into a pan.

“Only about an hour ago, but due to time zones, we slept on the plane.” He tries to focus on his words but he quiets himself to focus on the food. I simply change my attention over to my mother.

“Did you have a good trip, mother.” I speak more bluntly towards her, adapting a cold attitude which she instantly matches.

“Not now Alyia. I’m busy” Yet her version of busy obviously only meant her eyeliner and I roll my eyes.

“Scarlett, we have been gone a week, at least greet our daughter.” My face scrunches up whilst a sour expression grows on my mother’s face.

“Hello, Alyia. The trip was fine and the contract went well” She places her make up on the counter, still limiting her eyesight to the products sprawled over the table.

“Contract?”

“Yes, the contract, I told you I ha-“

“No, mother. I wasn’t aware…” I mumble quietly but it’s enough her to drop her brush harshly and she finally turns to face me.

“What have I said about interrupting me, Alyia.” Her tone is angered and makes me break eye-contact with her.

I only go silent and face the ground under my feet. I blinked repeatedly, trying to get rid of the tears that pricked at my eyes.

This was pathetic that such a small sentence could affect me so much.

“So now you have nothing to say to me? Just go and get ready for school alright.” I normally would try and argue back but I simply wasn’t in the mood to fight today.

-

I had tried to distract myself with designing an outfit for school but considering half of it was mother’s brand, that grew hard quick. A simple white shirt is covered by a bold red tie that hung loosely around my neck, barely remaining under my collar. Then, it’s tucked into a tartan plaid skirt with a black belt tightening it to my waist. The sharp red complimented my brunette hair which I had put into a ponytail with my curtain bangs subsided, behind my ears. I grab an old pair of doc martins and slip my feet into them, no longer caring about the leather creasing whenever I step on the heel.

I just grab my headphones and place them back in my ears. I change over my school books and throw some main products like my keys in the front pocket and run back downstairs, slamming the door as I leave the house.

The day had barely started and I was in a sour mood. My parents were gone for a week and the most I get from my mother is a petty argument. At least my father had the decency to look at me when he spoke. Music wasn’t helping my mood as much since Mitski has started to play through.

The bus was late again but that wasn’t a surprise, they were always unreliable. I could easily get my license; I practically already have a car…or two. But the bus makes me feel more natural. My parents run fashion designs, but I don’t want to flaunt any money around like everything is expendable. I picked out what I wanted within reason and anything else of mine went into savings and my friends, mostly Jenny.

Thankfully the hallways were reasonably empty, I wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone. I simply make my way to the music room as quick as I could. All I wanted to do was play music and focus on anything other than mother’s words, but getting to my locker was first.

For once I was grateful for my parent’s money as it allowed me to keep my guitar in my locker with the added space inside, even if I had to constantly rearrange it around my books and other equipment. It takes me a moment but I manage to shift around all my belongings so I can remove my guitar. Once I do I lean it against the locker door next to me to free my hand and pick up a few makeup products from the floor. However, when I bend down to pick it up the guitar’s weight starts to shift and slams on the tiles below, echoing a light strum from the force. I grimace and close my eyes as an exasperated sigh leaves my lips. The case slides across the floor when I pull it closer and I slam my locker door shut.

It slings over my shoulder and I’m finally on track to the music room.

I take my seat down on the leather sofa and lean back with my head against the wall and finally exhale deeply. My hands quickly find the cable for my guitar and fidget with it between my fingers trying to untie it.

The door opens beside me and I don’t even bother to check who it is and I just plug my cable into my guitar.

“Good morning, Alyia” Matt’s voice is immediately bright and fills the room around me.

“Mhm…” I simply hum in response, still not looking up to him. I wasn’t in the mood to appease him after the rough morning I have been having.

“Alyia?” His body tilts down to face me more directly.

“Yeah?” I finally look up to face him and try to avoid looking pissed off so that I can change the subject.

“You alright?” I only nod at him, knowing my attitude would stem through my words.

He doesn’t push anything any further and sits on the stool behind the drums and takes his drumsticks out of his back pocket. His hand grips the bottom of the stool and drags it across the flooring, immediately proceeding to tap the skin on the drums lightly.

“You wanna play Dark Red again or…Rise?” Matt’s voice drags on as he simultaneously tries to decide on a song.

I take a deep sigh and just strum on my guitar, tuning one of the strings as soon as it doesn’t match within my chord. I lack any response to Matt, spending my time on tuning instead. The silence is awkward but at this point, I wasn’t bothered. Those seconds drag on internally and I try to relax myself in to the melody of my guitar. Rise is decided quickly in my head as I begin to pick at the strings to produce a chord.

Matt quickly catches on to the song but is still caught of guard by the time he is meant to start drumming and he speeds up in order to catch up.

“O-okay Rise it is…”

As the song progresses, I gradually speed up my pace to the song, subconsciously playing faster counts of eight in my head. Initially, Matt doesn’t notice the increase in pace. But, the more he plays, he starts to miss one or two beats and looks up towards me occasionally, trying to read my expressions.

I don’t even get to the end of the song before I give up with it, holding my guitar tight in my left arm but letting my right one drop to the side of my leg.

“Okay, what is up with you today.” Matt’s voice is sterner towards me and I do my best not to link it to my mother’s.

“Nothing, Matt. I’m fine.”

“Oh? Are we doing this again. Firstly, you have been cold towards me, barely speaking any full sentences. Then, you speed up the song and don’t even finish it before you stop in frustration. And finally you seem so much more shut off, just like when you stayed over my house.” He pauses and walks towards me, leaning down to face me.

“So, Alyia. I’ll ask again. What is up with you?.”

As much as I didn’t want to tell Matt, when he brought up the night in his kitchen, all I could think about was what he said to me.

“I want to know you.”

I practically freeze in my spot and he rubs his neck softly and drags his palm up and down his arm lightly.

“You do?”

“You doubted that?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t know that, I stay to practise with you when I can, I make extra meetings for the English project simply because they typically end with us hanging out over a movie or something.” He starts to walk closer. “I want to be your friend Alyia. Besides you are one of the only friends I have that Nick hasn’t shit talked right away and that Chris feels comfortable being himself around.”

“I am?”

“You are. And frankly you are fucking awesome at guitar, don’t think those mornings are gonna stop any time soon.”

“I want to be your friend Alyia.” He gives me a genuine smile but I give him a tight-lipped weak one back.

“If you don’t want to talk, I get it, but you don’t have to restrict yourself, okay?” I can only nod in response but he only repeats himself. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Fine…” I lay my guitar at my feet and look down from Matt.

“Are you going to tell me, for real?” He takes a seat down next to me and looks at my face, reading my body language.

“I might as well, I have known you several months and you haven’t given me any reason to not trust you. It might also be better to have a new perspective than just Jenny.” I lean back into my chair as an attempt to calm my body down.

“Well, thank you...That does mean a lot.” He speaks through a breathy laugh and faces away from me and towards the drum kit he just left.

“Okay, uh shit how do I start…” I take a deep breath and internally analyse my situation, figuring out the best ‘script’ in my had that allows me to express the most.

“You know how whenever we go around to my house and do anything, my parents are never home and things are so bare apart from my own material?” I scan Matt’s face but he is hard to read in comparison to me so he nods in acknowledgement. “Well…they are never home because they are at meeting or business trips that take them across the world. My mother is a fashion designer and my father arranges all of the meetings and background things.”

“I guess that makes sense. Do they call you with updates or anything” I can only shake my head in response.

“Not really, my dad tries to but with so many calls from management to models and stuff, it only ends in voicemails. You would think when they get back they would think to update you on, y’know…their life. But no. My father wants to sit down with me and talk about the trips and the small details that you would never normally care about, yet my mother interrupts or gives him things to do.” My sentences start to ramble and I breath in quickly once I finish.

“It was just so different this morning, normally I can handle the shit my mother gives me but it felt like she hated me this morning. She fucking shut me down and told me to stop interrupting her as if that wasn’t all she ever did herself. She hadn’t seen me in a week and yet her eyeliner was far too important to trade…It feels so pathetic that she feels so low of me.”

Matt falls silent next to me and continues to face away from me.

“Alyia…I’m so sorry” His arm snakes around and lingers on my shoulder but once I flinch slightly, he jolts his hand back and places it back on his lap.

“It isn’t your fault Matt; in fact you have helped me.”

“I have? How?”

“By actually being there, after you leave my house, it actually feels like the place was lived in and not a decoration to flaunt.” I start to admit things to Matt that I wasn’t planning on telling him for months but it simply felt like I wasn’t restricted. He was right, I didn’t have to be.

“Alyia…I’m only being your friend”

“I don’t exactly have many of those, I fucking lack in social skills.” I try and lighten the mood but I’m only met with a tight-lipped smile back.

“You can always stay at my place whenever you need company?” He shrugs next to me and I can easily pick up on the sincerity in his voice. I look up at him, not even realising the smile that automatically grows on my face.

“And I don’t want to hear that ‘I don’t want to bother you’ shit because that’s the last thing you do.” His words halt as he processes his words.

“Thanks Matt. Really, other than Jenny I don’t exactly have anyone.”

His palm finds its way to my knee and rubs my leg slightly, his head nodding at me softly and we stay in silence for a moment.

“We should probably start to play music again...” I perk up and he snaps out from zoning out and immediately removes his hand and stands up.

“Right! Right. Yeah, you want to try Rise again.?”

© ENDEREIES 2024

@melliflws @axolotllover225 @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @sturniolosmind @worldlxvlys @patscorner @breeloveschris @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @mayhem-72

[sentientcave]

Two Graves - Phillip Graves is haunted by the memory of his older brother

Fuck-ass Mohawk - Johnny likes it when you're mean to him (And Ghost does too)

Pompeii//Good Grief - Dealing with loss during a mission gone wrong- Or maybe gone right.

Please, Mommy - A little gender fuckery with everyone's favourite Captain. (FtM Reader, read contents for kink warnings)

And They Were Roommates

Fem!Soap x Fem Reader - You're looking for a roommate, and Jaime Mactavish figures she's the right woman for the job.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Heavy Weighs the Crown

Fantasy AU - A princess in self-imposed exile is forced to come home to face the man who took her father's crown and the life she left behind. 141 x Reader.

Chapter Index

Retirement Party

Price has retired from Military life, and he's not handling the change well. But on the one year anniversary of him hanging it up, his boys bring him something special to help keep him busy. You. (Dark fic! Read the content warnings)

Chapter Index

Honey It's Alright

Slasher AU with some of my OCs. Dark fic!! Read the warnings

Part 1

Sadie Blackmoore-Price in

Nobody Does it Better - Sadie and John reconnect for a night

You Only Live Twice (In Progress)

Hit Me With Your Best Shot

When Rory "Scout" Price moves in with her dad after a rough break-up, she's looking forward to reconnecting while she gets her feet back under her. But unfortunately, a post-divorce Kyle Garrick is moving in too, and he seems determined to be a pain in the ass. But then again, he is kind of hot.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

Please Say Yes

Starting fresh after a divorce, Chelsea really only has one thing on her mind: Starting a family. But going through the process of dating and marrying another man that could very well be lying about wanting kids, just like the last one, she's determined to make her family all by herself. She only really needs a man for one part of the process, and she has a particular man in mind, her neighbour, one John Price.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Let's Riot!

When the Reader St arena gets bought out from under them by Morgan’s vengeful ex, Pippa Graves, The Reader St Riots suddenly find themselves without a practice space. Pippa may say she’ll play nice, but Morgan knows that she’ll either have to get back under Pippa’s manicured thumb or the whole team will be out on their ass in no time. Problem is, the only other practice space around that’s not booked up to the tits belongs to Jo Price, captain of the Femme41, and well… Morgan has a bit of ugly history with her too.

Still, Jo’s at least a little more reasonable than Pippa, and Morgan may hate to beg, but she’d hate to see the Riots disbanded more. And well, maybe there’s room for a little cooperation, especially when their teams get along so well.

Part 1 - Part 2

Mace of Bakes

"Are you happy, Mason?"

A question Mace hadn't asked himself in longer than he could remember. And when he finds he doesn't like the answer, he sets out to build a new life, a long way away from all the blood and dying on the battlefield. Happiness is not a warm gun. But it might be a warm loaf of bread.

Chapter 1

Sparrowverse

Fics in an extended original character universe. I'll get around to posting Sparrow one of these days.

Cherry Bomb - Nikolai meets one of his Aunt's old school friends and tries not to fall in love.

You Drive Me Wild - Nikolai and Helena meet again three years later

WIP WEDNESDAY

Snippets and previews of things in the works

Rugby - Rugby Again - More Rugby - The Righteous Hand - Impound - More Impound - Sparrow - TNT - Lucky Bunny - Daddy's Girl - Sparrow Again + Retirement Party

[bijouxcarys]

Fine Wine (Robert Plant x fem!OC)

Masterlist

Description: Our fiery OC from Cherry Lips receives a call from the man she's seen the world with, after months of distancing himself. She may just be the medicine he needs in his time of uncertainty…

Word Count: 6.5k

Tags: @celestial-dragoness @firethatgrewsolow @callmethehunter @strsmn @m-faithfull @chromations @angrychicksposts @friccinfricks @inanebula

He was greeted with an icy draft as he pushed open his door. A stark contrast to where he’d been two hours prior. A fleeting bask in the heat of his past. But that’s all it was. Fleeting. In the past.

Robert knew it had to happen. Ahmet would have enjoyed seeing the lads back together, even if it was just for one last show. It was necessary to remind himself of that fact, otherwise the work gone into the past month would be for nothing. Though, his brain—that guy up there—tried to convince the rest of him that it was truly fruitless. And he knew what he’d have to deal with for the next year or so…

Robert, is there any chance of a Zeppelin tour again?

Mr Plant, how did it feel to be up there again?

Do you think Jason lived up to his father’s name?

Are you and Jimmy planning on working together again?

What’s your relationship like with John Paul Jones?

Why wasn’t Stairway To Heaven released as a single?

How do you think your voice has changed?

Robert, why don’t you want to talk about Led Zeppelin?

Bob, can you sign this for me? Bob?! Who the fuck do you think you are, mate? You’re only gunna sell it on eBay.

Scratching at his head, Robert reluctantly turned the light on, revealing his current home exactly how he left it. Hah, why wouldn’t it be? There’s nobody here to disturb it…

There was so much of the world he still needed to discover, to figure out. More music out there to be made. So much bigger than the walls of this London flat sat high up in a building full of more flats, with even more people, with even more stories–Oh, shit, are you Robert Plant? I need to call my best friend and tell her you live right near me!

Thankfully, that common situation was less common in the area he chose to live. It made him feel dirty, buying such a luxurious flat in such a well-established complex. Some called it a penthouse, but no, that was two floors up. Alas, he did have a pleasant view of… the city. Okay, maybe not that, but at least he could go for a walk to the nearest coffee shop… Okay, maybe he couldn’t have that human experience, either. 

To think that 34 years ago, he would be in the deep end, engaging in whatever post-show debauchery the band could muster up, and now he was here… A 59-year-old man unable to escape the 25-year-old boy that hadn’t experienced the true meaning of heartbreak yet. He was free, seeing everything in bold, whilst now he lived in a precarious state push and pull.

Desperately wishing for the world to see him as Robert Plant the musician, as opposed to Percy of Led Zeppelin.

Oh. There it is… There lies the conflict—his conflict. If he was hell-bent on enjoying music in all forms, being who he was at heart, why on Earth was he sitting on the edge of his bed, curtains drawn, dwelling on the fact that he wasn’t, in fact, Percy anymore?

Nobody told him the truth. Nobody told him when he was wrong, how he could improve himself. With the odd exception, there wasn’t a single person he came across in his ventures of life, who didn’t automatically compare him to, what he considered, that peacock prick of the 70s.

However, be that as it may, the audacity of Percy still ran rampant through Robert’s veins. If there was one thing age taught him, it was to grab life by the horns, come hell or come victory.

In his self-pity, still slightly buzzed from the bit of alcohol he’d already ingested that night, he took the leap in finding that familiar contact name in his phone, holding it to his ear as the dial tone held his breath with its frequencies.

Her phone rang just as she was about to take her first sip of wine, idly wandering in the kitchen of her sleekly designed flat. Half expecting it to be another call from the supervisor, she answered with an exasperated “Hello?,” bypassing the sensical act of glancing at the caller ID.

“Cherry…” he rasped, the name tasting bittersweet on his tongue.

Stiffening her posture, her previously tired eyes had blown open at the voice on the other end, as clear and crisp as it was in person. “Robert?”

“Cherry,” he repeated the silly nickname he’d given her a decade prior.

“Uh…” Delicately setting her wine glass back on the counter, she leaned against it, quizzically dropping her eyes to the floor. “This is unexpected…” She heard a gruff sigh, followed by some movement, coming from his end.

“I’m sorry…” he apologised, running a hand over his face as he stared out of his bedroom window. His phone felt heavy in his hand, bearing the weight of his audacity. Audacity he knew he should have kept at bay. “I guess age makes ya more of an arsehole…” he mumbled.

“Age? What are you talking about? Are you alright?”

“I’m as alright as an old man can be…”

“Your crypticism isn’t helping you seem less like an arsehole, if that’s what you’re concerned about.” Rolling her eyes, she moved to grab her wine again, making her way over to the sofa.

A lengthy pause followed. There’s a reason they describe silence as deafening. It irritated her to no end; she was able to take two whole sips of her wine during the time he left her in this ominous limbo.

“Why are you calling me?” she finally asked through a sigh, perching herself on the arm of her sofa, swirling the fragile liquid in her glass.

“Just… wanted to talk.” His words were unconvincing. Like a stroppy teenager insisting they want the beef stew bubbling on the stove, all whilst eyeing the takeaway menu on the fridge. She could read him, even through the phone. Plenty of practice by now.

“Well, so far it’s just been me talking…” She waited for an answer, even checking her phone to see that they were still connected. “Are you gonna tell me what’s up?”

“Nothing’s up…”

“Okay, and I’m currently in Russia,” she responded dryly.

“Are you?”

“Seriously, Robert?” she huffed, scrunching her eyebrows up at his atypical ignorance. “Look, if you’re not going to tell me why you really called me, I’ll just hang up, I’ve got zero patience for this right now.”

Yes, that’s it… Tell me I’m wrong. Give it to me straight. A satisfied smile tugged at his lips as he dropped his head in relief.

“Please tell me what’s wrong…” Her voice softened, almost mimicking a beg.

He chewed his lip, glancing at the clock on his bedside table. Was he really this pathetic that he needed a woman to come over and make this already stressful evening a little less gruelling? Well, yes, he was. To him, at least.

“Do you, uh… think you’d be able to come over?” His voice faltered.

Pausing mid-sip, she double checked that she was hearing things right. That her ears weren’t playing tricks on her. It wouldn’t be that outlandish to suggest auditory hallucinations at this point; it was bizarre enough that he was calling her in the first place. “You want me to come over? As in… to you? Right now?”

“Please…”

The silence that followed was thick with anticipation, punctuated only by the distant hum of traffic outside Robert’s window. He held his breath, waiting anxiously for her reply, acutely aware that he was asking a lot.

Finally, she broke the silence with a soft exhale, her voice tinged in a subtle mixture of disbelief and curiosity. “I guess I could… Why do you want me to come?”

Robert’s mind raced, searching for the right words to explain the tumult of emotions swirling within him. “I… I just need somebody,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Someone who won’t sugar coat things… Someone who knows me.”

She felt her heart stumble at his vulnerability, how fragile his voice sounded on the other end of the phone. Despite the fact that their interactions had become sparse over the last year, she couldn’t ignore the connection that still lingered between them, forged in the crucible of the years they’d spent in each other’s company.

Without another word, she made a decision, fuelled by compassion: rarely felt, but cherished when present. “Alright,” she said softly, her resolve firm. “I’ll come over. But you have to promise me something…”

A spark of hope ignited within Robert’s chest as he listened intently, hanging on her every word.

“...You have to tell me what’s bothering you. And don’t try and downplay it, either. Deal?”

A wave of relief washed over Robert as he nodded, a sense of gratitude playing eagerly at his heart. “Deal,” he agreed.

That leads them to the present, sat across from one another in his living room. Neither of them knew how the night would end, but all Robert knew was that he appreciated her willingness to come over at all.

“I thought you might have been out,” she speculated, accepting a glass of wine as a gallant replacement of the one she had to pour down the sink at home. Robert immediately shook his head, resting into the sofa with a hand rubbing around his bristly beard, unknowingly complimenting his fine wine allure. “Didn’t fancy another rodeo, huh?” she wittingly asked.

“I should imagine Jonesy’s all cosied up with Mo by now. Don’t know if I can say the same about Jimmy, though,” he huffed through a rueful laugh.

Biting her lip, she smirked to herself at his implication that Jimmy hadn’t lost his wild streak. “Well, I think it would be rather bizarre if Jimmy was with John’s wife right now, don’t you?” Injecting a bit of light into the atmosphere with her jesting tone, her smile grew with Robert’s in response.

Robert’s gaze lingered on her, from the light dimples on her cheeks, to the lips he would kill for. Though, now, they remained painted with a more natural tone as opposed to the deep cherry tint he associated with her. So beautiful.

She had to admit, upon noticing his wandering eyes, a familiar flicker kindled in her stomach, taking her back to the moment he first surveyed her from afar, all those years ago. “So…” she breathed, angling forward with her elbow resting into the cushiony surface of the chair arm, adjacent to the matching sofa Robert had relaxed on. Nestling her chin into her hand, she studied him. “What’s going on?”

Smile falling slightly, Robert cleared his throat and took a sip from his wine. It was discernible how desperately he was clambering to find the words, thoughts racing a millions miles a minute.

“Robert, I can’t help you if you don’t tell m–”

“Do you think I’ve lost my looks?”

Now, she wasn’t expecting that one. 

Anyone who took one transient careen at him instantly concluded that Robert Plant knew of his appeal. So aware of his allure, it bordered on arrogance. He always played the game, no questions asked.

She let out an unintentional scoff, amused by his inquiry. Surely, he wasn’t serious. However, upon leering into his eyes a moment longer, she quickly realised he was being anything but frivolous.

Through a fated smirk, she asked him, “Is that really what you’re so upset about right now?”

He winced, huffing as he shifted on the sofa. “Not really. Well–yes, but no…”

“My God, men are so indecisive.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” he shot back with a boyish grin.

“Stop,” she pointed her finger at him. “Stop being so charming and funny, it doesn’t work on me.”

“Are you sure about that, darlin’?”

“You’re diverting.”

“So are you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not the one who called after not bothering for months on end, am I?” And…there it is. 

He knew this was going to come up at some point, and he was inclined to agree with the vexation it bestowed upon her. As he kept his eyes firmly locked on hers, he saw as clear as day the betrayal that encompassed her. Perhaps a strong word for their situation, but the hurt in her eyes spoke of nothing less.

“Cherry… I’m sor—“

“That seems to be the only word you know lately, Robert,” she interrupted him coolly. “Y’know, I came over because you sounded upset, and believe it or not, I still care about you.” She rose from the seat, making steady back and forth paces across his flat. “God knows why I care about you, but I do.”

Robert parted his lips to speak, but she kept going.

“Do you know how happy I was when I got your text the other month?” she asked, turning to look at him. “Even if it was just to say happy birthday.” She shrugged. “Maybe some tiny little part of me wished that you’d have kept in touch, but then I came to my senses and realised that you’re Robert fucking Plant!” She chuckled airily, running her hand through her hair.

His gaze fell to the floor, pondering her words like a bout of bad news. With a swallow, he slowly responded. “And why is Robert Plant so different?” Her scoff brought his eyes back to hers.

Then, almost as if it pained her to utter the words, a stern gleam in those big brown eyes, she answered with the truth. The whole truth. Nothing but the truth.

“…Because nobody comes close… to being like you.”

Compliments. More compliments. He shook his head with an exasperated resolve.

“No, don’t shake your head, when you know it’s the truth.” Taking a deep breath, she stepped a little closer to him, staring him down like a predator cornering its prey. “So I’m gonna ask you again…” she uttered, “What’s wrong?”

“I told you—“

“You asked me if I thought you’d lost your looks, you told me nothi—“

“I’m old!” He finally snapped, voice uncharacteristically raising. Distressed. Vulnerable. He shot up from the sofa, peering down at her with hesitant eyes. “All those people who came to see me tonight,” he pointed in the direction of the window, “They wanted to see that bare-chested young lad strutting around the stage and wailing like a newborn fuckin’ lamb!”

Robert breathed out heavily. It was his turn to start pacing, everything that had built up all evening practically spilling out of him like nickels from a glass bottle.

“Ya know, I’ve tried for the past 25 years to not be that anymore, to get as far away as I possibly could from all the bollocks, but tonight was a real fuckin’ grim reminder that all anyone ever cares about is my name!”

She’d never seen him this irate. He had his moments, irritable and unsatisfied with certain situations and people around him, but never failed to remain calm and respectful at all costs. The man she watched bounce back and forth in the dim light of his very un-Robert-esq home was the personification of a life lived to the fullest, only to reach a point in which there seemed very little left.

“Robert, I—“

“I realise I’m a massive fuckin’ hypocrite, by the way—being upset about people always expecting the young, virile Robert Plant, but also wishing I could have been that tonight.” Spinning on his heel to make another lap of the room, he was halted when she stepped in front of him, hands coming up to hold onto his arms. “Does any of that make sense, Cherry? Or am I going bonkers?” he asked with a hushed tone.

Sighing, she looked over his attire. Silky shirt with some sensible black slacks, encasing a body that displayed his advancing age. The lines on his face spoke of an earthy wisdom and a lifetime of laughter. Hair, previously a vivacious blonde, now faultlessly whisked with an ashy tint. His stomach was no longer landscaped, and one could no longer catch the intensity of his muscular build.

No, he wasn’t what the world instantly pictured when faced with his name. But he was still, without a doubt, the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

“Robert…” she breathed, bringing a hand up to gently trace the pads of her fingers over his beard, along his jaw, before stopping to place her hand flat against the side of his face. “My sweet, darling Robert… You have no idea, do you?” Dropping her voice to a whisper, she took in the edges of his features, how the blue in his eyes still shone brighter than any star in the sky.

The warmth of her hand against his skin made him weak. His eyes hooded, and he found himself instinctively resting into her touch. “About what?” he replied, matching her tone. His hand wrapped around her wrist, keeping her near.

Endearing was the word that sprung to mind. He was so endearing at that moment. So naively heedless. She couldn’t help but smile, as if a whole new light was gleaming down on him. Layers she had never been able to peel away were now crumbling at the lightest touch.

“How perfect you are…”

“I’m far from perfect.”

“Maybe not by the official definition,” she agreed. “But my definition… it’s all you, Robert.” 

Any anger she may have felt for his distancing himself, any iota of annoyance at his unintentional ignorance, was insignificant when compared to the kind of love she felt for this man. “I don’t care how old you are. I mean, you’re not even that old,” she chuckled. “I don’t care that you’re not… Percy, or however you want to describe yourself back then.”

Robert’s eyes shut as he gently rested his forehead against hers, hands lowering to grip onto her waist like he’d never get to again.

“I never knew you as that person, and I don’t want to. Because the man that’s been in my life for the past 10 years has given me more to live for than any arrogant little peacock could,” she grinned at her own wording, knowing she was using his own opinion of himself as ammunition. He picked up on it, a low chuckle rumbling in his throat.

“And let’s not forget,” she smirked, snaking her arms over his shoulders. “A lot of girls have a preference for older men, Robert, and as far as I’m concerned, you’re the ideal. Plus, we don’t call you Daddy for no reason…” she giggled.

Even through his subdued demeanour, a tint of light pink coloured his cheeks; he hid it by dropping his head to her shoulder, tilting to take in her scent. “I don’t care about a lot of girls right now…” His words were muffled, but the way his lips gently tickled the side of her neck spoke for him.

“Robert?”

He lifted his head to look down at her. “Hm?”

“You’re beautiful,” she told him firmly. “Okay? I don’t ever want to hear you saying otherwise, because it’s bollocks. Pure bollocks. Alright?” 

Okay, well maybe one person tells me the truth…

With a smile, he bit his lip and nodded, willing to take any word that fell from her perfect lips as gospel.

“Good.”

“Can I kiss you now, or am I still in troub–”

She cut him off with a heady kiss, hand holding the back of his head and fingers gripping at his corkscrew locks. A sigh of relief fell from him as he mirrored the passion, wrapping his arm around her shoulders to cradle her, encompassing her in his hold. His own fingers made a venture, delicately threading through her thick hair.

Eventually, he found himself backing her in the direction of his bedroom, willing footsteps following his lead. She didn’t even have to give herself to him. All she needed to do to keep his mind at bay, stop the intrusive thoughts from swirling in the recesses of his rapid mind, was be there.

But his Cherry was always insatiable, no matter the situation she found herself in. Like his own, her libido intensified in her 30s, and he deemed himself lucky to be on the receiving end of such licentious longing.

“I’m not gonna lie to you,” she hummed as Robert trailed his kisses along her cheek, eventually stopping at her neck. “When I got home from work, I wasn’t expecting anything like this to be happening tonight.” His bristly facial hair was tough against her skin, but provided a stimulating tingle nonetheless.

Chuckling, he nipped at her neck and guided her further backwards until she had no choice but to let her weight fall onto the bed, his following suit. His face hovered closely over hers, taking in her features. Admiring. Silently worshipping. She was everything.

“What?” she whispered up at him, stroking her thumb over his cheek.

Shaking his head, a small smile appeared on his lips. “Nothing… Just happy you’re here. With me.”

She huffed out a small laugh, placing a barely-there kiss to the tip of his nose, before nudging him to lay down so she could settle on top of him, legs trapping him under her. Using her hand flat on the bed beside his head, she propped herself up as she lingered over him. His hands were urgent as they gripped onto her hips, needily pressing his fingers against her curves. God, he wanted her so bad… It was next to impossible to be in the same room as her and not experience the familiar twitch below. That bloody blazer… She made every article of clothing look perfect, and she looked perfect wearing them.

Clocking his distracted gaze with a smirk, she smoothly brushed stray curls from his face. “What do you want, Robert?” she whispered, watching the way his eyes dilated and flickered through a mirage of emotions. “Tell me…” she encouraged, her lower lip slipping between her teeth in anticipation of his answer—an answer she was certain she could predict.

He sighed heavily, tilting his head to the side. “I don’t want you to think it’s all I called you over for, darlin’...”

She responded with a sweet smile and an airy laugh, shaking her head. “Hmm, no…” she mumbled, glancing down at his lips. “You told me why you called me over…” Lowering her face to his, their lips narrowly skimmed over one another. 

“Now, I need you to tell me why you want me to stay…” Her voice had dropped to a sultry whisper, accompanied with a bold shift of her hips.

Jaw clenching, his grip on her tightened, goading her to keep up with her movements, to which she complied. “You really want to know, luv?” he gruffly asked.

“Dying to know…” she replied through a breathy sigh and a subtle smirk.

It seemed a mere millisecond had passed before one of his hands came up to hold onto the back of her head, pulling her down so he could speak directly into her ear.

“I want to feel you again,” he began, inching his other hand steadily from her hip in the direction of her backside. Guiding the paced movements she was still conducting. “Want to feel you forever,” he continued, words muffled against her.

By now, the strength keeping her propped up had waned and she found herself collapsing against him, once again completely wrapped up in his embrace, adhering to his ministrations, playing into his hands.

“I miss the way you wrap around me, baby,” he kept talking, barely realising each syllable sparked flutters between her legs. “And how sweet you taste…” Maybe he’d forgotten how much she enjoyed his voice in these intimate moments, but as she continued the rolling motion of her hips, the friction against her heightening arousal dragged a choked moan from her throat.

“Oh, ya like the sound of that, do you?” he provoked, his hand now holding onto her rear, but no longer guiding her; she was doing that all on her own. Taking her face in both of his hands, he brought her back up to face him. The familiar flush on her face, hooded eyes, the way her lips had parted and gentle gasps had fallen… “You like me talkin’ like that, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” she breathed with a wanton nod. “Please…”

“Please, what, darlin’?”

“I-I need you…”

“You need me to do what?” His fingers began a steady journey over her chest, down to her stomach, where he inched his hand under the thin material of her blouse. Skin to skin. Fuck…

She whined, gripping onto his shirt, a furrow in her brow. “You know what I want, Robert…”

“Hmm, not sure I do–”

“I will leave if you keep playing with me.” As much as she wanted her threat to sound genuine, stern, her body was completely ablaze, and there was no way it sounded any stronger than a desperate plea.

Robert smirked at her, sneakily managing to slip his hand further down, until it was snuggly hidden within her trousers, her arousal prominent against the soft lace of her underwear. She gasped as he applied pressure, grounding her hips involuntarily.

“Somethin’ tells me yer not going anywhere, luv.”

Smug prick… Always so fucking charming…

Her eyes fluttered shut as he released the pressure against her underwear, but instantly reapplied it.

“I can already feel how badly you need me, sweetheart,” he casually commented, loving the way he could break her down. Just with a mere touch. “You just have to tell me… then I can give you everything you need and more…”

“My God, just fuck me already…” she murmured, craving more than a simple touch over a layer of clothing. Robert responded with a throaty chuckle, beaming at her as he removed his hand from her trousers and swiftly pulled himself up into a seated position, her legs immediately wrapping around him to stop herself from falling back.

With a challenging glint in his eye, he leaned forward, arms encircled securely around her as she dangled from his lap off the side of the bed. Her hands were holding onto his shoulders, giving him a warning glare.

“Now, now, don’t give me that look…” he chided, lowering his gaze down to her attire. “You look gorgeous in this blazer, but I think it needs to come off now.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” She obediently shrugged the heavy fabric from her shoulders, trusting that Robert wouldn’t drop her in the process. It fell to the floor, landing in a crumple—she’d surely chastise herself when the time came to put it back on, but at that moment, she couldn’t have cared any less.

A sharp squeal exited her mouth as Robert suddenly stood up, swung around and dropped her on the bed. He gave her a cheeky smirk, before lifting her legs to perch on his shoulders. Turning his head, he delicately worked the buckle on her heel loose.

“I like these shoes,” he nonchalantly complimented as he pulled it off her foot, dropping it down the side of the bed, before he repeated the action on the other. He pressed a kiss to her ankle and lowered his hands to unbutton her trousers, tugging at them when she lifted her hips. 

There she was, laid over his bed, in nothing but a white, gossamer blouse and the contrasting underwear in a characteristic black lace.

“Y’know…” Sighing, he crawled over her, allowing her to slowly pop open the buttons of his shirt when he got close enough. “I’ve always wondered—with you in particular—how I managed to get so lucky.” He ran his hands up and down her bare thighs, savouring the smooth skin under his fingertips.

She didn’t necessarily answer him, only sent him a playful eye roll before pushing the intricate silk from his shoulders, where it was then tossed to the side to join her trousers on the floor.

Robert displayed no sign of hesitancy in his shirtless glory; he looked like a transcendental entity—a god of his own likeness. So deserving of everything good, yet the creator of the very same thing. 

Her wandering eyes flooded with lust. She cursed the inability to squeeze her thighs together at the sight, at the situation. But before she could mourn the friction, he was down there in its place, as though he saw right through her longing. The soft fabric of her blouse became too constricting as her heart hammered away at the image of Robert knelt down on the floor with his upper body slotted between her legs, so she unbuttoned the garment, the air around them hitting her skin in a stark revelation.

“I told you I missed how you tasted,” he mumbled against her thigh as he peppered small kisses along the flesh, inching closer to her aching core, but bypassing it to replicate the motions on the other leg. His beard added a bout of sensation, hips rolling upwards in her thinned patience.

When he pressed his mouth against her clothed centre, she exhaled deeply, the simple touch sending sparks all throughout her body. Robert hummed against her as he caught her scent, mouth aching to taste what laid beneath the flimsy material. Soon enough, his own stoicism scattered—he had to have her against his tongue, now.

With a hungry resolve, he pulled the lace down her legs and pushed her open, the sight stirring his fervour below. He glanced up at his Cherry, deftly tracing his thumb over her already teary folds. She had her head settled against the soft sheets, managing her breathing in preparation for the delicious sensations that were to come. My perfect girl… Robert leered proudly, looking back down at the view.

He gently spread her open, her bijou pearl enticing and ready for the taking. Pink, glistening… 

“So pretty…” he murmured to himself, taking an experimental lick just below the sensitive nub, eliciting a small flinch from the goddess laid in front of him. He licked his lips, relishing his appetiser. Next, he flattened his tongue against her entrance, collecting her arousal, and dragging upwards until he gave her the contact she so desperately needed.

By the time he attached his lips to her clit, she was already pining, throbbing. A small cry fell from her lips as he performed a suction motion, tongue swirling around her in lazy circles. She was trapped in his hold as he wrapped his arms around her legs, keeping her open and completely at his mercy.

Robert proved, with the sublime movements he bestowed upon her, that old men do, in fact, do it better.

With a grunt, he pulled his head back long enough to lewdly spit, mixing their fluids together in a union of lust. Her pants were a pleasant breeze to his ears, and her writhing form was his reward.

“That feel good, darlin’?” She nodded her head, one of her legs pulling him closer to her. “Look at me.” With a whimper, she lifted her head with the strength she could muster to meet his stormy eyes—eyes punctuated by grooves of sagacity. “Yer still my good girl,” he praised with a knowing smile, the wisps on his lower face shimmering with her juices. “Aren’t you?” She nodded again, practically unable to speak through her yearning. “Words, luv.”

“Yes… I’m still your good girl,” she shakily succeeded, swallowing thickly.

“Yeah, you are…” he whispered, pressing a brief kiss to her core. “Still Daddy’s good girl…”

She furrowed her eyebrows at the name she hadn’t heard in so long. The name she hadn’t even uttered to anyone else since the last time she found herself in this position with Robert. 

An untamable animal under a gentle predator with an even stronger desire to tame.

“I’m gonna make this pretty little cunt cum now, darlin’,” he hummed, “You just lay back and enjoy every second…” He eased her back down with a hand on her stomach, before lowering his head and resuming with his erotic assault.

An elongated moan expelled from her body as Robert seemed to return with a vengeance, tongue rapid against her pulsating, swollen clit, edging her—driving her—towards a much craved release.

Once he slipped a finger inside, stroking upwards in tandem with his tongue, she was done for. Her moans turned to cries, her whimpers turned to whines, and his name flew from her lips at a rocketing pace. 

Hips gyrating, back arching, she was in ecstasy.

Gripping tightly onto the bed sheet beside her head, her legs tightened over his shoulders, drawing him closer than ever.

Another finger.

More suction.

Closer.

And closer…

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum—don’t stop,” she gasped.

He didn’t.

What followed was nothing short of an otherworldly climax, tensing all over, gripping his fingers and pulsating into his mouth. Her hand shot to his hair, grabbing at the ash-blonde curls as he growled in validation, drinking in her release with the vigour of a water-starved cheetah.

She rode her orgasm out, body shaking and twitching as his comedown kisses hit sensitively against her. Eventually, he ceased his motions, snaking up her body, marking her on his journey. Each searing kiss to her flushed skin accompanied an indentation of his teeth. When he got to her chest, he dragged his lips between her breasts, up her neck, and finally punctuated with a heated kiss to her lips. 

Her remaining clothes were quickly shed, as was his, as they fell deeper into their salacious reunion. Inching up the bed in the scorch of their connection. Both eager, desperate, urgent. It didn’t even feel real when he eventually eased his cock between her legs, filling her up with a steady thrust of his hips.

Robert never seemed to pull back from her; only stayed as close as possible, absorbing her every reaction, even the most miniscule, the most subtle… He noticed everything.

The pace he set. The small tightening of her limbs wrapped around him. The rhythm of her breathing. And, of course, the ripples and twitches and flutters from her welcoming cunt. She took all of him so well—she always did. 

How he’d gone so long without her was a mystery. A foolish decision on his part, for he never felt more alive than when in her presence.

Hooking his arm underneath one leg, her body titled, cock kissing the hilt of her walls with every passion-filled jive. Her moans were melodic at least, with no limitations in their effect on Robert’s reverie. Fingernails raked over his back. Noses brushed against one another. Eyes fought to stay adhered. It was the copulation of a lifetime; even the first night they spent together sat miles from this.

“Cherry…” he groaned, evidently darkened chest hair grazing along her bare skin.

“No…” she managed to choke out, shaking her head. “D… Don’t call me that…”

Even more than her words, her eyes begged him to drop the silly nickname; it scarcely matched the moment, and gave their kinship too superficial a meaning.

With a smile of admiration, he pressed his lips to hers, free hand raking through her hair as his thrusts gained a jolting flair, building them up. Closer, and closer…

“Grace,” he finally whispered against her lips. “Grace, Grace, Grace…” he breathed, dropping his head to her neck.

Her name was exemplary on his lips. He practically chanted it the more he drove into her, knowing he was bringing them both closer by the second.

A lifetime could have passed, and neither one of them would have noticed. Completely, utterly, wrapped up in their mutual admiration for each other. Nothing else mattered. Their jobs, and all the emotions that came with them, were peripheral. Faded into the background. All that remained were the two of them.

Robert and Grace.

“R-Robert…” she panted, lips brushing against his shoulder. “God… fuck, I’m close…”

“Yeah?” he mumbled against her neck, his nipping quickly turning into biting, sucking, claiming.

“Mhm,” she nodded with a whimper, lifting her hips to meet his eager thrusts.

“That’s it, baby…” he approved, ensuring to match their rhythms. His breathing waned in its regularity, a heat rolled over his entire body. Just need to feel her…  “Cum for me, Grace, please… can’t hold it any longer—fuck, you feel so good.”

It took mere minutes after Robert moved to press his forehead against hers, staring her down, for her to finally succumb to his behemoth gifts. She held onto the side of his face, nails digging into his shoulder painfully as she clung to him.

Ears buzzing. Eyes blurring. Head thumping with the beat of her heart. The way she gripped around him, paired with the breathtaking expression of her face as she reached her zenith, was almost too much for him to handle.

“Fucking hell…” he groaned, taking in her responsive form as validation of his abilities. During her descent, he spilled into her, restrain seeming like a fargone possibility. He gyrated, growled, and ensured to empty himself completely inside of her.

Their bodies were tacky, hot, flustered, trembling, as they laid there, entangled in each other’s limbs. Her eyes fluttered open, focusing on the overhead lights in his room that were yet to be switched on since his return home. Having him in her arms, in his bed, was a long-awaited scenario she never thought would come to fruition.

But it had.

Eventually, he rolled over, bringing her into his protective hold. Somewhere, lingering in the back of his mind, he feared she wouldn’t be here come sunrise. That she’d realise she was making a mistake, take one look at him upon waking up, and disappear as quickly as possible. The grip he had on her was his way of keeping her there, with him, for as long as he could.

Though, it just wasn’t enough to ease his mind…

“Grace…” he called out slowly, his voice practically shot.

“Yeah?” She looked up at him, head resting on his chest.

“Can you stay?”

What a question to ask… She raised an eyebrow, looking into his eyes. The uncertainty baffled her. How he thought she might leave was an enigma to her.

“I wasn’t planning on leaving,” she assured him with a whisper.

He responded with a sigh of relief, and a kiss to her hair, before shifting the two of them further up the bed so they could comfortably bury themselves under his sheets.

There was no second guessing herself as she wrapped her arms around him, his back pressing against her chest. She held him close, smiling to herself when he found her hand, lacing their fingers together in such an affectionate position.

They laid there, lit by only the city lights that spilled through the edges of his curtains, for a few more minutes. Listening to the beating of each other’s hearts, and the steady rhythm of each other’s breathing.

“Will you stay for breakfast?”

Grace opened her eyes, giggling softly. “Yes, Robert. I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

Oh, darling… that would be forever.

[evita-shelby]

No one but you

Or Buck and Diane won't leave me alone and they demanded an au of them getting together.

Cw: unplanned pregnancy, mentions of illegal abortions, cheating, spoilers for Masters of the Air (and some for Peaky Blinders since Diane is a Peaky Blinders OC)

Link to No one has to know

They shouldn’t have let come this far, and yet they are meeting up in a hotel room because neither can stop themselves from this. They loved each other, they were each other’s peace in this hell and yet, there was no guarantee this would change for the better tonight.

She waits for him on the bed that might as well be theirs considering how often they come here. She’s nervous, she’d broken up with Tom last time he was on leave because she knew he would never raise a baby that wasn’t his. It had hurt, she loved him, but she loved Gale, and it was his baby she was having.

He didn’t know yet. He would leave this room knowing that but whether he is willing to leave his Marjorie to raise a child with her is another thing entirely.

Diane had known of someone here who could take care of it before it even showed, and yet, she hadn’t wanted to erase a future with a blond-haired baby boy that was a perfect mix of them both.

John Gale Cleven, blonde haired with his smile and her mismatched eyes. Conceived in love and sin under a tree.

“Are you feeling better, Di. Helen said you weren’t in today because of it.” He asks with concern as he left his jacket on the hook and, for a moment, became Gale Cleven, not Major Gale Cleven with a sweetheart back home.

“Yeah, just needed some time off.” She smiles nervously and hates herself for not being careful. This was the last thing they needed, but she doesn’t want to get rid of it, and it’s better if she tells him now. “Actually, I need to talk to you about that.”

Buck knows exactly what she means and goes through every stage of grief--- except anger----as he crosses the room and joins her on the bed. “How far along are you?”

“A month, maybe more.” Diane answered avoiding his eyes, she has no idea why she’s bracing herself? Rejection? No, Gale Cleven isn’t the type to do that. Shame? Actually, both were already keeping their entire relationship a secret because both had someone waiting for them, so it could be that.

“Does your Tom know?” Gale held her hand in comfort, and she shook her head. He knew she’d ended things with Tom, but never the specifics of it.

“He thinks it’s just the guilt of our arrangement that led to me breaking things off with him. I didn’t want to make it worse when I still wasn’t sure if I was pregnant.” Diane leaned against his shoulder knowing her fears about him tossing her out like last week’s trash for getting pregnant. “You don’t have to do right by me, I have enough money to not care what people think of me as an unwed mother,”

That is a lie, the word whore will be thrown around enough for Gale to feel the insult all the way in America.

“I’d marry you even if there was no baby, Diane. At least we won’t have to hide any longer.” A small consolation even if it means setting themselves on fire to make this wrong into a right.

“A small consolation, isn’t it?”

And it is.

While what men did off the clock was no one’s business, Gale’s reputation of an honest and principled soldier does take a hit.

Bucky is angry on Marjorie’s behalf, and angry at him for not listening to him. Even worse for not telling him.

“I love her, Bucky, and she’s having my baby. I feel terrible for what I did to Marge, but its too late for that now.” He can’t just abandon his own child, and even if everything’s gone to hell, Buck can’t regret choosing Diane over Marge.

She understands what he’s going through, she is here and perfect and this was their only chance to be together.

“Can’t argue with that, Buck. So, when’s the wedding?” he gives him a pat on the shoulder, still smarting for this betrayal of their friendship and yet still there for him as always.

“As soon as her folks come from Birmingham, and we get a license. I don’t want to risk the baby being born on the wrong side of the sheets if I don’t come back.” Buck answered getting to the good part. “I was thinking of you being my best man.”

“Only if I can sing at your wedding.”

Even with Bucky’s caterwauling and the night bombings, it’s one of the happiest days in his life.

It’s September, when Gale Winston Cleven marries Diane Elizabeth Shelby a month and two weeks since they made love under their tree.

She looks beautiful, in a plain white dress and whatever flowers the children at the base managed to make into a bouquet for her.

He gets three days in London as his honeymoon, three days and two nights in a townhouse owned by Diane’s father, a man who understands why he can never accept a medal in this godforsaken war.

“I’ll come back; I promise. Take care of yourself and the baby, Di.” He said before every mission and kissed her goodbye because now she was Mrs. Gale Cleven not the nurse he pretended was only his friend.

The letters from home had come, angry, disappointed, and resigned. Marge’s had tearstains from crying, his mother was happy for him even if she compared him to his father, but they understood why he did this and wished them the best.

If she makes you happy in ways I couldn’t, then I hope the two of you will be happy together, Marge had written and with that her letters ceased all together, her photograph sent back and replaced with Diane on their wedding day.

When he asked her what she thought Tom did with his picture of her, she shrugged and answered, Tom had torn it up, burned the pieces, and tossed the ashes in the shitter.

But Tom and Marge were their past, Buck and Diane were now each other’s present and future.

“I love you.” The words still come as whispers, and yet they no longer carry the guilt or shame they used to come with.

He has six more missions to go.

Six more and he will get to see the mysterious Arrow House before going to train boys in the States. They’d have to face his family and friends sooner or later, sooner seemed better if it took them away from the bombs.

Being Mrs. Cleven is great, they are out in public as husband and wife with nothing to stop them. Some dirty looks are there because everyone knew about Tom and Marge and yet none of them can truly judge them because everyone sought comfort any way they could.

They are given a tiny house on the base because, they do provide space for married couples serving together. She does her work he does his and at the end of the day they are each other’s peace here.

Gale kisses her hungrily when he comes back from his missions, seeking release from his torments in her and relishing having no reason to stop loving each other anymore.

“Twenty-two. Three more and we get to go home.” Buck trails his fingers on her arm and kissed her shoulder so sweetly Di wished he didn’t have to go.

She had a bad feeling; she’d seen the results in the cards and felt a stab in her heart when Gale’s card came next in the sequence and known this was a mission he wouldn’t come back from. The young witch had told him about it, but he assured her he’d always come back to her.

He loves her and she loves him even if death tries to part them.

“I know, can’t wait to see where you grew up.” She pushed back the preemptive grief and smiled through it. She has good news too, something that will give him some bit of joy before everything goes to hell. “The cards say it’s a boy.”

He smiles broadly, almost silent in his joy as he embraces her tightly as they lay in bed. “Would you mind if we named him John?”

“Not at all, love.”

They decided on John Egan Cleven when he leaves for Bremen. Bucky would be his godfather, of course, and the godmother would be Janey Dogs, one of Diane’s best friends who happened to be Romani as well. Janey’s father, Johnny, had two wives even if it went against tradition and the law, but he was the exception amongst the families they traveled with, something Buck still couldn’t wrap his head around.’

“I’ll come back; I promise. Take care of yourself and the baby, Di.” Those are the last words he says before he goes on the mission he did not come back from.

No one save for Bucky understands the pain she feels and promises he will be avenged when they part ways, Bucky to Germany and Diane to her parent’s home in Birmingham.

Bucky’s captured two days after.

She writes to his mother to comfort her; she promises to use her dad’s and her own money and influence to find out what happened and if necessary, demand they return his body home.

He's not dead, Di feels it in her heart that he’s alive and tells his mother so.

They begin corresponding, taking comfort, and learning every little thing they can about Gale’s life before the war, during the war and now as he is held in a German Prisoner of War Camp.

Diane writes letters to him the moment she learns where he is, assures him they are fine here in Arrow House. She tells him about the estate, the gardens, about her family and how well she gets on with his mother through letters.

All of them holding anything that can help them survive long enough to escape the Germans. It takes a while for him to write back and sends Bucky’s apologies for getting captured too and asks her subtly what they should do next.

“You used to do the same with Marge’s letters,” Bucky points out as Buck inhaled the still fresh smell of Diane’s perfume in her letters.

It was as comforting as Marge’s had been back at Thorpe Abbotts, he had almost forgotten that. He still felt guilt for hurting her that way, but Gale couldn’t say he regretted choosing Diane and his son that day.

“I know. If I hadn’t fucked it up, they could’ve been friends.” The blond admits to seeing the similarities in the two women.

“What does Mrs. Cleven say?” Bucky asks as the most trusted of their men gather pretending to listen go on about his wife.

News from the front and what her readings say they should do are hidden in meaningless phrases, made up gossip and anything she can make up under the guise of a lovesick young bride. He writes back in a similar code asking her to ferry the information they manage to hide in love letters to anyone important enough to be of use.

Gale sees his twenty-sixth birthday at Stalag Luft III. He doesn’t tell her what he did to stay healthy enough to live, as far as she knows he’s being kept well. She tells him his namesake, Winston fucking Churchill, has put her in contact with Allied Intelligence to come up with a fool-proof escape plan when the invasion begins.

Stay put, stay safe, we will be waiting for you as we always are, she wrote.

Winter of 1943 turns to the spring of 1944 and on May 14th of 1944, John Egan Cleven is born in great health contrary to the lie of him being premature like they told his family.

On June 18th of that year, as his Father’s Day gift, Buck receives a photograph of his son and a lock of blonde hair wrapped in a thin ribbon with a code.

While the invasion of Europe had begun that summer, they couldn’t escape safely until 7 pm, January 27th, 1945.

“Di says evening of January 27th of next year. Do you think we can stay put until then?”

“Gives us enough time to plan this shit right.” Bucky lights up at the news and quickly forgets all the times he doubted Diane’s abilities for telling them to stay put. “Nurse, heiress, psychic and spy, you sure know how to pick them, Buck.”

“Meatball picked her, if anything I should be thanking DeMarco for the mutt.”

Seven months to have the allies close enough for them to escape safely.

And they do, with minimal casualties they reach allied soldiers after escaping during the Moosburg March on January 27th of 1945 at seven in the evening just as Diane had said.

“I told you; I’d come back, I always do.” Twelve days later, on February 8, 1945, he is reunited with his wife and his son at the same tree they fell in love under.

[asirensrage]

The Fall - Sano "Mikey" Manjiro x OC

Title: The Fall Rating: Mature Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Pairing: Sano "Mikey" Manjiro x Undescribed!OC Warnings: Dark!Fic. Suicide ideation and assumed attempted suicide. Obsession. Swearing. Mention of illegal activities and threats. Unbeta’d. Word count: ~2k Summary: She was drowning before she even realized he had dragged her into waters she couldn’t survive in on her own. Based on the prompt: “Step away from the window. Come back to sleep. Don't make me have to come get you.”

Notes: This went in a whole surprising direction, even for me. I kind of love how it turned out though. I just find this timeline and the characters compelling. I know this is a heavy topic for some people. Help is always available if you're experiencing thoughts of suicide. Reach out.

Heed the warnings!

The room is dark except for the city lights that shine from the window. It’s not enough to keep either of them awake. The blanket is pulled up to under her chin as her head rests on his chest. One of his arms is around her, holding her as she curled up against him. His lips press into her hair and she closes her eyes, letting herself relax in his grip. His heartbeat sounds in her ear, lulling her into sleep. 

---

She’s not sure where she is or how she ended up here, but it doesn’t matter. Not when someone’s standing on the edge, staring out at the people below. Her heart feels like it stops in her chest. She can’t let him jump. She can’t. She’s not the person to turn away from something like this.  

“Hey!” She calls out, moving forward. He turns slowly, not leaning forward but not stepping down either. “Don’t do it, okay?” 

His stare is blank, half hidden behind blond hair he’s letting fall in his face. He tilts his head slightly to the side as he finally looks at her. “Do what?”

“Look, I know things might seem bad right now but this isn’t the right choice. Things can change!” 

He looks back out at the city. “Nothing changes.”

“It does!” she insists. “I promise it does!” She doesn’t know why she’s so frantic, so determined to help him, but she is. She can’t let him do this. Not when she’s here. “I don’t know what’s happened in your life, what you’ve gone through, but nothing is bad enough to end it all because of how you feel in this moment. It will pass. I have no doubt that people will miss you! That there’s at least someone in your life who cares!”

He looks back at her. “No one would miss me. Not really.” He tilts his head to the sky. “My men would say they would but they’d be fine.”

“I don’t believe that,” she says, trying to be as earnest as possible. “What about your friends?”

“Don’t have any. I pushed them away. It’s safer like that. They deserve better and everyone–” He turns back to face the city, taking his hands out of his pockets. Fear shoots through her that he’s going to lean forward and it’ll be over. “No one’s gonna miss me.”

“I would!” She reaches for him, grabbing the back of his shirt, ready to pull him back if she has to. She’s not letting this happen. “I’ll miss you and if you take that step, we’re never going to get the chance to be friends. Don’t do it!” She says it quickly and feels a seismic shift within her, a heavy weight that she can’t explain. 

When he looks at her this time, it’s like he finally sees her. His eyes widen slightly but he shakes his head. “You don’t want to be my friend,” he says softly, looking away again. “Everyone around me dies.”

“So what?” His gaze snaps back to hers as soon as she says it. “Everyone dies. It doesn’t mean we should take their deaths for granted or let ourselves die with them. We have to live our lives to the best that we can, to take care of each other and find whatever can make us happy. Death doesn’t mean that life shouldn’t be worth living.” 

His mouth falls open slightly but she nods to herself, feeling like she’s starting to actually get through to him. If he’s grieving, he can heal from that. “Please. Come down. Talk to me.” She tightens her grip on his shirt. “Please.”

“Why do you care?” he finally asks.

“Because I do,” she says, unable to put it into words. She couldn’t live with herself if she never tried. “Okay,” he says and steps closer to her. She lets go only when he’s away from the edge of the roof.  

She doesn’t know how much time passes, but the sun is starting to rise and Mikey is staring at her like he’s never seen anything like her before. He’s sweet, even if he’s a little lost, and she can’t help but appreciate the way he listens to her, the way he teases her gently as they sit on this roof. 

When he calls her name, he’s no longer beside her. He’s standing back on that edge, silhouetted by the sunrise. He reaches for her and she runs to stop him, to grab his hand and keep him there with her. Her heartbeat races as he smiles at her. 

“Don’t you wish you pushed me?” 

He yanks her towards him, falling back off of the roof and dragging her with him. She tries to scream as she falls, but she doesn’t hit the ground. Mikey’s hands are on her, weighing her down as the world turns black around them. It tightens around her, leaving her clawing at the pressure to escape, to breathe, before she drowns–

---

She wakes up fast. Heart pounding, gasping for air that she can suddenly breathe. She sits up, looking around the dark of the room as reality slowly hits. It was a dream. Just a dream. But she almost feels like she’s still falling. It felt real. Too fucking real. 

She glances quickly at the man still sleeping next to her. A miracle, really, considering how little he sleeps. She eases herself out of his embrace, turning to press her feet against the cold floor. It was a memory. That’s all, but she needs to feel grounded. She doesn’t dare leave the room, but she takes the chance to get out of the bed. Arms wrapped around herself, trying to stop the way she’s shaking, she moves for the large window that’s the only source of light she can get without waking him. 

The city skyline is bright against the dark sky. 

It looks vibrant in contrast. Lively. Full of hopes and dreams and promises you know will never be kept. The lights of the city just highlight how dark the shadows are and how many there are. Everyone always focuses on the lights but it’s in the darkness that you know the truth of the city really comes out. There are those that thrive in the dark, those that wander in without warning and the unlucky souls who are thrown in. The city hides them all. She’s just not sure who to pity more. 

She hears movement behind her and she forces herself to relax. It’s no surprise he’s waking up. He never seems to sleep long, not if she’s not there. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, still sounding half asleep. It’s rare he lets himself show this sort of vulnerability. He only does it now with her and only when they’re alone. It should be an honour. It should be more than a noose around her neck. 

“I had a weird dream. Didn’t want to fall back asleep and I didn’t want to wake you.” She turns to look at him and offers a small smile. “You need your sleep.” 

His hair is tousled and his dark eyes are half open, still processing the situation. It reminds her of when he was younger. When he used to lay with his head in her lap in the sun and she’d run her fingers through his hair, listening as he talked. She can tell when he fully starts to wake up because his stare deadens and he sits up properly. 

“Come back to bed,” he demands. 

“I’m not tired,” she says softly, knowing that isn’t what he wants to hear. She hears him shift in bed, his back hitting the headboard as he sits up fully. She closes her eyes for a moment, wishing he had just kept sleeping so she could have this moment. 

“What did you dream about?”  

“When we first met, only it wasn’t…it wasn’t right.” She doesn’t say more than that. 

“The day you saved me.”

Her eyes clench shut. “I didn’t save you,” she says. “You were never going to jump. I just made an assumption and you let me talk and talk and talk until the sun came up.”

She had left once they parted ways, when he promised to take care of himself, to talk to his friends and she assumed that it was over. She had done her part, she had tried and she was never going to see him again. 

Except that she did. 

She greeted him with joy at the fact that he was still alive, unquestioning how he ended up at her work. He seemed surprised but pleased and before she knew it, she was introduced to his men. She was drowning before she even realized he had dragged her into waters she couldn’t survive in on her own. 

Mikey had made her fall in love with him before revealing the complete truth about himself. It was too late after that. Not only did he cling tightly, ensuring that she knew that she was the one who brought meaning back into his life, but his men liked him when she was with him. She was good for him. They didn’t care that he wasn’t good for her. 

“Come back to bed,” he tells her again. 

She doesn’t move. The distance between them seems like a gaping chasm that she stands on the precipice of. Like the dream that she woke from, except that this is a nightmare she can’t escape. She loves him, she probably always will, but she’s afraid of him too. She knows exactly what he commands. She can’t bring herself to crawl back in next to him, to feel the way he curls himself around her, as though his hands aren’t stained in blood. She turns back to the window. How many people down there are under his control? How many are mourning lovers, family, or friends because of the man behind her and his men? How much blood is on her hands, unable to stop him and unwilling to try?

She wonders if falling from this height would feel like flying. A last moment of freedom instead of fear, a choice of her own making, that would release her from this. A suitable punishment for what she’s never tried to stop. 

It’s funny. She used to be the one to talk someone off of the edge and now she’s lost that part of her. She’s always been too smart for her own good, even if she was a bit naive, and she knows that if she had protested any of the choices Mikey has made, it wouldn’t have made a difference. Not with the men around him. 

“Step away from the window.” He’s no longer willing to tolerate her disobedience. “Come back to sleep. Don’t make me come to get you.” 

She moves automatically at his tone. She swallows tightly as she crawls back into the bed. Mikey waits until she’s in before he moves closer, resting his head on her shoulder and throwing an arm over her waist. She lifts one hand and runs her fingers through his hair, nails scratching gently on his scalp. His irritation fades as he holds her tighter. She feels the way he breathes her in, how he relaxes against her. 

“You’re not leaving me.” His voice is quiet but there’s no room for argument. 

“I never said I was,” she replies just as softly. She was just thinking about it.

“You can’t. I refuse to let anyone have you. Even death. You’re mine.” 

She hums softly. “We all die eventually, Mikey. But don’t worry, I’ll let you go first.”

He laughs at that like she’s teasing him. “I’m not going anywhere without you. You promised forever, remember?” There’s a threat there. He would kill her before he killed himself, and if she somehow survived, she knows his men would never forgive her. Sanzu would ensure she followed Mikey whether she liked it or not. 

“Yeah,” she looks up at the ceiling. “I remember.” 

She just wishes she didn’t. 

taglist: @raith-way @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse @themaradwrites @kingsmakers @far-shores

[runningfrom2am]

on the one screen in my town; three

summary:

mason’s life with drew was absolutely perfect, she was happier than ever; until everything came crashing down all at once.

tags/warnings:

drew starkey x fem!popstar!oc, drug and alcohol use, death, grief, these tags are not exhaustive, idk i'll add to this as it goes on.

wc: 2.9k

series masterlist

masterlists

The extremely private funeral was only a few weeks later, and Mason was hardly herself anymore. Anyone who knew her could see she was just a shell of herself, hardly there, even when she spoke.

They managed to get a large, private estate in Washington, near her mothers home town, where Mason had grown up. This was perfect for the service, considering it was remote and by exclusive invite only. The last thing anybody wanted was photos or people showing up to ask questions. The media knows almost nothing at this point, just that something has changed and all of Mason's projects have been postponed. Spare, so far, her and Drew's wedding, which was scheduled to take place in two months and thirteen days.

Mason had been counting them down with a childish excitement, but now, as she stands over her mothers coffin, alone, she's dreading it. How can it go on when her mom won't be there to celebrate with them? She can't even imagine it.

"Mason.." She looks up quickly, turning to see Drew as he walks up to her. "It's gonna rain, we've got to head out." He says, wrapping an arm around her and kissing the side of her head.

Everyone else has left, including Este and her family, including Drew's parents, who were kind enough to make the trip from North Carolina, and including her father; and after waiting in the car for her for forty-five minutes, Drew decided enough was enough. He agreed to give her the time alone, of course he did, he wouldn't dream of saying no; but at this point it's not benefitting her anymore. Or him, to sit in the car and watch from a distance as she shakes and stares into space. It's hard to watch.

"Five more minutes?" Mason requests, not having the heart to look up at him.

"Of course." Drew nods, rubbing her shoulder gently. "I'm gonna stay, though."

She nods, leaning her head on his shoulder, lip quivering as she looks down at the coffin, yet to be buried. It's empty, she knows that, but that doesn't make it any easier for her to walk away.

"Jeez, Mace.." Drew sighs softly. He's never figured out what to say, he had hoped it would come to him eventually, but the only thing he's realized is that there is no right answer. Nothing can bring Catherine back, there is not a thing in the world he could do to make her feel better, and he feels so hopeless. "I miss her." He settles on, wanting her to at least know he kind of understands.

"I don't understand... I don't understand why." Mason chokes out, shaking her head and turning to bury her face in his chest, hugging onto him like her life depended on it. It was a car accident, of all things. Wrong place, wrong time. Why did it have to be her?

Drew just shakes his head. "I don't know. She's not gone, though, hey?" He makes sure she's listening, kissing her head again. "She's gonna haunt us like crazy, she could never leave you." He laughs slightly, trying to make her smile.

It works only a little bit, making Mason laugh slightly through her tears. "True. She's gonna be throwing eggs at me if I forget to eat breakfast." She adds, nodding slightly.

"I don't doubt it for a minute." Drew smiles, craning his neck to try and get a look at her smile. He's missed it, she hasn't smiled in weeks. They haven't really talked about any of this yet, but Drew knows he has to wait until she is ready. She's getting there, he can tell. "Can I take you home? I've got to get you fed before Cath uses her ghost powers to try and make you spaghetti or something."

"No." Mason shakes her head. "I hope she does."

"Okay, well, you can explain your late dinner to her so she doesn't come after me." He chuckles, giving her a gentle squeeze.

Three Years Ago

"Mason! I saw on Twitter that you went on a date this week. Twitter! How dare you not call me first!" Catherine says, excitement clear in her tone as soon as her daughter picks up the phone.

"Hi mom." Mason rolls her eyes playfully, dropping her hand to put it on speaker so Este can hear as well.

"Hi Ellen!" Este says, instantly putting her phone down to join the conversation. When they first met, Este had mistakenly remembered Catherine's name as being 'Ellen', and it was just too funny for the three of them to ever let go.

"You can't distract me! Tell me what's going on." Her mom says, making Mason blush and Este grabs the phone from her.

"Oh my god, Ellen, he's a dreamboat! Okay, so, his name is Drew, they met at that premiere I brought her to. That Netflix show I'm working on, Outer Banks? He's in the show. He plays Rafe."

"Oh yes, right. Okay." Catherine laughs, urging her on as Mason buries her face in her hands, shaking her head with embarrassment. "I haven't seen it yet Este but you know it's on my list."

"Yeah, of course! Anyway, you should have seen them, he was like all over her! I'm pretty sure he pretended to 'accidentally' bump into her so they could talk. It was so cute." Este gushes. "Hold on! There's pictures, I'll send them to you."

She grabs her phone again to find the pictures as Catherine fires questions at them. "What did he say? What's he like? Where did you go? Tell me everything I can't wait another minute!"

"Okay, mom, slow down." Mason intervenes. "It was just one date, it's not like he proposed or something."

"Well sorry for being excited! I didn't know that was a crime." She replies with a sassy tone.

"It's not. I just, I don't know. I don't know if I'm ready for another relationship, so I don't know if I'll see him again."

"Oh, shut up." Este says, rolling her eyes at her friend. "He's amazing. Seriously, he looks at you like you're the only girl in the world. Don't push him away because you're scared. Brady was a jerk, Drew's not like that."

"Okay but how do you know?"

"Uh, I don't know, maybe because I've worked with him for two years now?"

"No, you haven't, you've worked with Madelyn and Madison for two years. He was just occasionally around."

"Exactly, if there was any red flags about him they would have told me. I know all the tea, trust." Este insists, scrolling away on her phone looking for all the pictures of Drew and Mason from the premiere. "For example, okay, Rudy and Elaine? They're like, totally on the outs. They don't even know it yet but the rest of us can all tell. She's not great to him. Also I knew about Chase and Madelyn's break up before he did, okay? You always trust the makeup artist! I know everything, but with Drew? There's never been anything. No drama, no one has had a bad thing to say about him ever. Also, Ellen, I just sent the pictures to you."

"See! Honey, just give him a chance." Catherine agrees and Mason sighs. "Oh! Oh gosh, these are so precious! He's very handsome, Mason."

"Ugh, mom!" Mason groans, throwing her head back against the couch cushions.

"I'm not giving you a choice. You need to keep seeing him, it'll be good for you. Just one more date if he asks, then you can do whatever you want. Just give him a shot." She says seriously, pleading with her daughter at this point to at least try.

"I'm glad you say that because he did already ask!" Este tells her. "Mason just hasn't called him back yet."

"Of course he did! You're amazing! You're beautiful, you're so kind, I can't imagine that he wouldn't want to spend more time with you, Honey."

Mason sighs, cheeks totally red and she nods. "Okay, fine, mom. You've convinced me. I'll call him back."

Six Months Later

Drew's bouncing his knee rapidly as Mason drives them down the quiet block, on their way to her parents home in a small town in Washington. "Nervous?" She asks him with a giggle, looking over as he stares out the window.

"No, what makes you say that?" Drew replies, quickly ceasing the movements of his leg.

"Just a hunch." Mason shrugs. "But if you were nervous, I'd say 'Don't worry, they'll adore you'." She assures him, turning onto her block.

"This is it!" She smiles, and he tenses up as she slows down, pretending to pull over.

"Shit, okay, I'm scared." He admits, making her laugh.

"I'm kidding. That wasn't even the house." Mason giggles, pulling out onto the road again.

"Screw you." Drew laughs, shaking his head. "That's not funny, by the way."

"Okay, okay. Sorry. This actually is it though." She says, taking a right turn into the driveway.

"Oh god." Drew groans, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, taking a deep breath. He doesn't even know why he's so nervous, he just wants to make a good impression, but Mason has told him time and time again that they already have a good impression of him based on everything she's told them.

"Watch this. We have about five... four... three..." As Mason counts down, unbuckling her seatbelt and watching the front door of the small ranch home, which suddenly flies open and her mom comes running out, straight up to the car. "Yep, told you." She grins over at Drew, opening her door and stepping out.

"Mason! Oh, I missed you so much!" Catherine smiles, pulling her into a tight hug and kissing her cheek.

"I missed you too..." She smiles, hugging her back and looking over to her dad who is standing against the door frame with a smile on his face. He gives her a quick wave which she returns behind her moms back, before her mom is letting her go.

"Oh, you're Drew! Hi, dear! It's so good to finally meet you!" She's quickly at his side of the car, giving him a hug as well. Him and Mason share a look over her head, and Mason gives him two thumbs up as he chuckles awkwardly and hugs her mom back.

"It's nice to meet you, Catherine." He agrees as she lets him go.

"Oh please, call me Cath. Or Mom. Whichever suits you more." She waves him off, smiling up at him. "Geez, Este wasn't kidding, you are more handsome in person. And tall. My goodness."

"Oh my god, mom!" Mason laughs, blushing furiously as her dad makes his way down the stairs.

"What? I just want him to be comfortable!" Catherine defends, patting Drew on the arm and walking around to the back of the car.

"And you think saying that will help?" Mason giggles, quickly walking up to her dad and hugging him as well.

"Well, I don't know I'm just being nice." Catherine insists, opening the trunk to get their suitcases out.

"I've got it! We're good." Drew insists, cheeks still flushed as he joins her, grabbing them out for her.

"I should probably help him, hey?" Miles whispered to his daughter with a smile and she nods as he nudges her shoulder.

"Yes please, dad." She whispers back, laughing quietly as he walks away, and Mason returns to the car to grab her purse out.

"Here, let me help." Miles says, grabbing his daughters pink suitcase off the ground. "Mason doesn't travel light, hey?"

"No she does not." Drew chuckles, shaking his head.

"Something wrong with that?" Her dad asks, serious now as he raises an eyebrow at Drew.

"Oh- no! Definitely not, sir. Gotta be prepared, you know?" Drew says, the blood draining from his face as he tries to salvage the situation.

"Dad!" Mason scolds him, and he instantly breaks character, laughing at the boys response.

"I'm kidding, don't worry." He laughs, patting his shoulder. "I'm Miles, by the way."

Drew laughs awkwardly, clearly getting minor whiplash from the situation. "Nice to meet you, I'm Drew." He says, repeatedly glancing up at his girlfriend.

"Let's get everything inside before it rains, yeah? We don't have all that beautiful sunny weather that you guys are used to in North Carolina and LA." Catherine says, taking a bag from Drew before he can protest and making her way back inside.

By the time everyone else makes it inside, Catherine is already on facetime with Este, who's back in LA. Mason doesn't know who was more likely to call each other out of the two of them. "Gosh, honey, you were right about him he is lovely!" Catherine says, turning as she hears the door shut. "Oh, here they are! Want to say hi?"

"You know I do!" Este grins, still laughing about how quickly Catherine called her to talk about Drew once they arrived. "Hey guys! How was the flight?" She asks as Catherine passes the phone off to Mason.

"It was good. Not too long." Drew shrugs.

"Yeah. I miss you, though." Mason adds, pouting at her friend.

"Well why didn't she come?" Her mom cuts in before Este can reply.

"Work, unfortunately." She sighs dramatically. "But I'm free next week, if you'll still want some more company."

"Yes, of course! Come up here any time, honey."

"You heard her." Mason agrees, smiling at her friend.

"Alright I'll see you on Tuesday, then." Este giggles.

Mason passes the phone back to her mom as she says she's looking forward to it, grabbing her backpack to bring to her room.

"I guess I should give you the tour." Mason says to her boyfriend, pausing and looking around the open living room and kitchen space. "Alright that's about it. My room is down here, same with the bathroom, and my parents room." She says, making Drew laugh as she heads toward the small hallway, Drew following close after.

"It's such a cute house." He muses, looking around at the array of artwork on the walls.

"You can say it's small, Babes. It's fine." She giggles quietly as they step into her room, throwing her stuff on her bed under the window.

"No, I meant like, the decor and stuff. It's very cute." Drew insists, smiling at her and then looking around her room, which clearly hasn't been changed since she moved out a few years ago, to live with Este in LA.

"Oh, well, my mom will love the review so please tell her." Mason smiles, sitting down on her bed and laying back dramatically.

"I don't know what I expected your room to look like, but it was almost exactly like this." He chuckles, standing in the door frame and taking note of all the posters on the walls, mainly Taylor Swift, One Direction, some of her favourites. "Have you met any of them yet?"

"I met Taylor once." Mason says, sitting back up and smiling at her big 'Lover' poster. "She was really sweet, she said she wants to do a song together sometime, maybe grab lunch. I have her number. I feel like she just pitied me, though."

"No way, she knows talent when she sees it. Clearly." Drew smiles, pacing into the room and sitting next to her.

"Leave the door open!" Miles calls after them from the living room.

"Dad!" Mason huffs as her cheeks turn red and she stands up, walking to the door and looking down the hall at him. "I'm not sixteen anymore, I'll shut the door if I want!" She laughs, then pretending to dramatically slam it before she stops it and closes it gently.

"Who'd you bring in here when you were sixteen?" Drew laughs quietly, cheeks turning slightly red as well.

"Guess." Mason laughs, sighing and rolling her eyes as she joined him on the bed again.

"I've got a pretty good idea." Drew admits, looking around again and this time noticing all the music awards on one wall next to the closet, smiling a little to himself. "Brady still lives here, doesn't he?"

"Yep. Him and his new 'girlfriend'." Mason says, using a mocking tone to refer to her. "Well, not new anymore I guess. It's been over a year."

"He's an idiot, if she was smart she would have left him by now." Drew chuckles. "I'm lucky he's so stupid, honestly."

"Me too. I wouldn't have found out otherwise." Mason chuckles. "God, it's so embarrassing." She groans and covers her face with her hands. Drew laughs a little with her, reaching out and running his fingers through her hair. She shouldn't be embarrassed. It's funny to laugh about a year down the line, but it's hard to think about what she went through- when the world was watching. He wants to make sure she never goes through anything like that ever again.

"Mason! Honey, mind helping me with dinner?" Her mom calls from the living room and she sighs, sitting up.

"Coming!"

taglist:@veescorneroftheworld, @totalswag, @madelynie, @cecesrings, @slut4drudy, @mutual-mendes, @winterrrnight, @sadfury, @h34rtsformilli, @maybankslover, @ffgcfff (lmk if you want to be added!!)

[margindoodles2407]

*slams my star wars ocs down on the table for your inspection. part one*

@whyoneartheven @seeking-elsewhither do you. want to look

Anchor Squad

Anchor Squad, a subdivision of Jedi General Moralene Kallier's 924th Corps, is a special relief squad dispatched to civilian areas damaged by battles to provide aid and re-stabilize the people who live there, like an anchor- thus, their name. Their squad color is champagne golden.

I've had these guys for almost a year and have kept them very close to my chest because they've gone through so many changes. They are very special to me

Sergeant Spes (CC 2617): Warm and friendly, and absolutely terrifying to witness in battle. He’s good with kids and likes corny jokes and has a sweet, goofy smile. He’d be an excellent father. 

Lt Sgt Klik (CT 9620): Spes’s lieutenant and sterner counterpart. He had to have his left leg amputated about halfway down the thigh after an accident, and the stress caused parts of his hair to turn white. He uses a prosthetic now and will hit you with it. Galaxy’s stoniest RBF; very serious and more than a little scary, but he’s got a strong sense of justice and cares deeply for his brothers and friends.

ARC Trooper Varmint (ARC 4612): I wanna be a cowboy babey. A goofy goober. He’s got a full beard and it is a choice. I’m going to be serious here, I haven’t fully explored him yet but you know what? I will someday.

CMO Ticker (CMO 1029): His special interest is cardiovascular medicine, hence his name. He’s got an anatomical heart painted on his chestplate and is a very very good doctor, if not more than a little socially awkward. Doesn’t talk much, but when he does, listen up because it’s important.

CMO Alep (CMO 2002): A Ray of Sunshine. The kind of doctor who could and would give lollipops to children (and he does actually keep a stash for the times they DO have missions involving settlements with lots of injured children). Speaking of that, he actually does specialize in pediatrics. Will translate for Ticker when his conversation skills fail him.

Hotshot (CT 3168): A sharpshooter and pilot; Decaf’s best friend from Kamino. Pretends to be cocky and arrogant as a play on the negative connotations of his name, but he’s actually just a fun guy. He’s got a reckless streak, though, and he and Decaf are each, like, 75% of each other’s impulse control.

Decaf (CT 1206): Good with bombs; Hotshot’s best friend from Kamino. Got his name because, being an explosives expert, he needs steady hands to defuse bombs and thus refuses to drink anything caffeinated. To further train his hands, he’s also a tattoo artist, and everyone on Anchor Squad has at least one he’s done.