#i've wondered this before but what was it that drew him to that house

[poguelandiarafe]

showered in secrets | drew starkey

pairings - drew starkey x secretgf!reader

warnings - smut, unprotected sex (p in v)

summary - you and drew are in a secret relationship. or at least it’s a secret until drew forgets it is and follows you into the shower, prompting madelyn to interrogate you as to what he was doing.

masterlist

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the house is buzzing with excitement, the kind that only comes from the anticipation of a night out with your closest friends. you, along with drew, madison, jonathan and chase have decided to get ready at madelyn's house and have some drinks there before going out.

you're always at her house due to living close by and she always jokes about how you may as well move in from how often you're there, even to the point of having your own drawer full of clothes, shower stuff and a spare toothbrush. it's perfect for an impromptu sleepover.

"mads, can i use your shower please?" you ask, already going to grab your stuff.

"course, you know where it is." she replies, flashing you a smile.

you grab your stuff and a fresh towel and disappear into the bathroom. the sound of the shower running fills the bathroom as you step in, taking a minute to relax in the hot water. you're wrapped in your thoughts, unaware of drew letting himself in and calling out madelyn's name when he's met with a seemingly empty apartment.

----

meanwhile, drew is looking for you, a frown on his face when he sees you're not in the kitchen or living room. his frown deepens when he sees you're also not in madelyn's room while she's doing her hair.

"hey, is y/n here yet? thought she'd have been the first one here. not me." he asks, leaning against the doorframe.

"she was actually," madelyn laughs, curling the last piece of hair, "she's just in the shower."

"oh, thanks." drew smiles, already making a beeline for the bathroom before he has a chance to realise what he's doing.

"drew?" she says, but he's already gone, "she's showering!"

his brows furrow in confusion, wondering why that was an issue, forgetting your relationship was a secret, "yeah, i know!"

stepping into the bathroom, the steam surrounds him and he takes a few seconds to stare at you, not having noticed he's in there.

"you should lock the door you know." he smirks, leaning against the door.

his voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you spin around, eyes widening in realisation that he might've just blown your relationship.

"what are you doing in here?" you hiss.

his smirk falters once the realisation seems to register and you watch as his eye widen, mouth opening to say something but nothing comes out.

"oh my god, drew." you groan, a sigh leaving your lips.

"shit." he chuckles awkwardly, "i asked madelyn where you were and she told me you were showering and well, i've never really not thought about joining you in the shower and i didn't realise and i'm so sorry i-"

"come here, stop rambling." you cut him off, reaching a hand out with a soft smile on your face.

stepping towards you, he grabs your hand and places a gentle kiss on your knuckles. your heart melts at the way he's looking at you and you can't help but lean forward and cup his jaw to bring him into a soft kiss.

"are you mad at me?" drew asks.

"no, but you have to sometimes think before following me into the shower."

his smirk returns and there's a playful glint in his eye, "i do think about it. that's why i always end up in the shower with you."

you roll your eyes but don't stop the giggle escaping your lips, "you're impossible."

drew hums in response before letting go of your hand and pulling his shirt over his head wanting to join you. you go to tell him it's a bad idea but he's already kicking away his trousers and boxers and stepping in, his tall frame towering over you.

"you know, i don't think mads would appreciate if we fucked in her shower." you mumble, but a smile tugs at your lips regardless, arms wrapping around his neck.

"hey, i said nothing about fucking," he leans closer, arms sliding around your waist, and whispers, "but i reckon we have at least a bit of time before she gets too suspicious, don't you?"

you scoff, shaking your head from his boldness, "you're a bad influence, drew."

"yet you still love me." he mumbles, starting to kiss your shoulder, trailing up to your neck.

"course i do," you reply with a genuine smile, "always going to."

drew smiles against your skin and playfully bites at your neck, teasing you. you're so close to giving in, enjoying the feeling of his lips on your skin and large hands gripping your hips to keep you in place. glancing at the door, you bite your lip, contemplating, knowing your friends might be just down the hall by now.

"fuck it."

pulling his face from your neck, you stand on your tiptoes and capture his lips in a heavy kiss. he reacts instantly, walking you a few steps backward until your back is pressed against the cool tiled wall. the kiss is intense, messy, desperate, making you forget all about the fact your friends are probably wondering where you two are.

he pulls back, breathless, "gotta be quick."

rolling your eyes, you tease, "wow, romantic."

"shut up." he murmurs, but there's no malice in his words, "don't have time for foreplay baby, you gonna be okay?"

"mhmm, i'll be fine."

drew's arms encircle your waist again and lift you up, letting your legs wrap around him. your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck and you look down in between your bodies, watching as he strokes himself a few times.

"ready?" he asks, noticing the way your breath hitches when he positions himself at your entrance.

"yeah."

he pushes forward, both of you letting out a low groan at the feeling. the stretch is teetering on the edge between pain and pleasure, your jaw dropping in a silent moan. slowly, he continues to fill you until he's bottomed out, patiently waiting for you to tell him to move.

"shit," he moans when your pussy clenches around his length, "feel so good baby, so tight."

"move." you breathe out, head lolling forward to rest on his shoulder.

the sound of skin slapping soon fills the small bathroom and you can't help but bite down on drew's shoulder to silence the moans threatening to escape.

"look at me," he demands, forcing you to lift your head and look at him, "you okay?"

"harder," you beg, pulling slightly at his hair, "please."

immediately, he complies, thrusting deeper and harder than before. you don't even realise how loud you're being until drew's lips are back on yours in an attempt to silence you.

you throw your head back when a particularly harsh thrust hits your g-spot perfectly and drew takes the opportunity to slide a hand down to rub circles on your clit.

"c-close." you whine, squirming in his arms due to your high quickly approaching.

as much as he loves to hear every moan and noise he can draw out of you, there's not a chance your relationship has the chance to stay a secret if he doesn't cover your mouth when you cum. so, he tells you to take over rubbing your clit and his hand covers your mouth instead, knowing any second now your high would hit you.

"cum for me y/n." he encourages, "come on pretty girl."

seconds later, your back is arching off the wall into his chest as your orgasm rips through you. his hips stutter, the feeling of your pussy clenching around him triggering his own orgasm.

"fuck, fuck, fuck." drew moans, his cum shooting into you.

his hand drops from your mouth, uncovering your giddy smile. you don't know how he still has the strength to hold you up, so you press a quick kiss to his lips and let him set you down, though your legs still feel like jelly.

"i love you." he mumbles, hands squeezing your hips as if emphasising his point.

"i love you too. think anyone heard us?" you question, grabbing your shampoo bottle, since you do still need to properly shower.

"probably."

----

ten minutes later, you're standing in front of the mirror staring at a faint hickey that's starting to form on your neck. clearly, your 'no visible marks' rule has gone out the window. you'd kicked drew out before getting on with washing your hair, not needing any more distractions. but now you wished you hadn't purely to get the chance to scold him for leaving a mark.

a voice brings you back to reality, "y/n? you out the shower? i need to pee."

it's madelyn.

"uh, yeah hold on!" you call back, readjusting your top and sorting out your hair, attempting to cover the mark.

when you open the door, she stands there, arms crossed. she's looking over you as if she knows something but can't quite figure out what.

then she spots it. what you thought was a faint mark turns out to be getting darker the more time passes. she decides not to bring it up though, wanting to see what you'll admit to her first.

"thought you needed to pee?"

"not anymore," madelyn replied, stepping into the bathroom and closing the door behind her, "took you ages in the shower, you shaving your legs or something?"

you narrow your eyes at her, trying to figure out if she's being genuine or if she knows something. normally, she's easy to read, but now you don't know.

"just wanted to relax before the chaos hits soon." you gulp when she asks the next question.

"any idea why drew's hair was dry when he got here and it's now wet? or why he seemed to disappear for twenty minutes?"

your stomach flips and you can hear your heartbeat in your ears. pathetic excuses fill your mind, excuses you know she'll never buy in a million years and you don't know what to say.

"what? how would i know? why're you asking me?" you laugh dryly.

"cause i know he had the whole 'greasy bangs' phase but i know drew enough to know he'd never be seen in public wearing this much hair gel and i don't have some luxurious pool he could've been using while i was finishing my hair."

"maybe he just... i don't know, splashed some water on his face or something?" you stammer, avoiding her gaze.

"okay, now i know you're lying. spill, i know something's going on with you two." madelyn smirks.

you sigh in defeat, "fine, but you can not say a word to anyone. i mean it."

her eyes light up and she nods quickly, "i promise. not a word. please tell me!"

you look between the door and her for a few seconds, thinking over the pros and cons, but she's your best friend. you have to tell her.

"i-uh, okay. me and drew are together. and not in a 'friends with benefits' kind of way. like, we're dating, have been for about four months," madelyn's jaw dropped, her hand covering her mouth, "but it's a secret so please don't mention it to anyone later. you're the only one that knows."

"oh my god, i knew it. you're so cute together." she squeals, hugging you.

"keep your voice down!" you whisper-shout but return her hug nonetheless.

"i want details later." she pleads.

"yes boss."

"also, i know you guys totally just had sex in the shower. i don't care, but if you don't want anyone to find out, cover the hickey. the hickey makes it so obvious." she winks at you before leaving the bathroom.

yeah, you definitely need to cover that.

[obx-4-life]

Teach me...

Bsf!rafe × inexperienced!reader

Warnings: Mastrubation (fem reader), use of doll, and princess, Rafe being a softie, fingering, virgin reader, inexperienced reader. 18+ MDNI

A/n: Sorry if this is no good, it was rushed and I didn't have time to proofread. Let me know what you think or if you'd want a part two. Loved writing a story for Rafe x reader. Tysm guys <3

Please don't copy my work

(Divider isn't mine, credits to whoever made it <3)

For a while now, every single time you saw your best friend, Rafe, you left with an achy feeling in your lower stomach. You wondered why? How? He's your friend, it's wrong, you can't want him.

Today was particularly difficult to peel your eyes away from his perfectly sculpted muscles as you sat on the beach together. Every touch set your body on fire, growing more and more desperate each time.

You managed to control yourself for those few hours, but when you got home, you could feel your core throbbing, begging for Rafe. You flop down onto your bed, drifting away in your thoughts, how hot your best friend looked when he unintentionally flexed his muscles, licked his bottom lip, smiled at you, gazed into your eyes. You felt like you were constantly being teased.

Without realising it, too busy daydreaming, your fingers had slipped below the hem of your panties, desperate for some sort of relief.

You tried rubbing your clit, using your fingers on your self, but it wasn't enough, you needed more and didn't know what to do about it. So you did what anyone else would do, ask their friend for help. It's just help, he's just my friend, I just trust him enough to show me how to have a good time, just that, nothing more... You try to convince yourself that you don't like Rafe, but how couldn't you, everything about him drew you in, made you want to be his, and his only.

So you text him.

You: "I know this is gonna sound so weird, but I need your help"

Rafe: "what with?"

You: "can't get myself off, and there's no one else I trust enough to talk to about this kinda stuff, and I really need some help right now, Rafe"

Rafe: "ok, ok, I'll be round in 5 minutes, yeah?"

You: "thanks Rafey"

Rafe has a key to your house, so he just walks in. He finds you sprawled out on your bed, your cheeks flushed pink, and a frustrated look on your face.

"Hey Rafe. Thanks for helping me with this"

"Mhm, no problem doll. How'd you want me?"

"Your fingers... please... I don't know how to do it to myself properly, I've never uhm well, you know"

"Finished or fucked?"

"Both" you admit shyly.

Rafe sits down next to you, reassuring you, he begins to whisper things into your ear to prepare you to take his fingers but you quietly mumble you "m'already really wet, Rafey".

He looks up to you, silently asking for you if you're ok with this, when you nod, he pulls down your panties before gently pushing your legs apart a bit further than they already were.

You'd heard Rafe fucking girls before, he was always rough and degrading, but here, now, he was sweet, caring, just like the boy you've been friends with all these years, you were the only person to see his soft side and you were eternally thankful for that.

"Y'ok with this, doll?"

You bite your bottom lip and nod. Rafe drags his long, thick, middle finger along your slit, collecting your juices and nudging his finger against your tight, pink, hole. He gently inserts his digit and you let out a whimper, not used to the feeling. His fingers are much bigger than yours and he's way more skilled at knowing the exact angles to position his fingers at.

"Mhm Rafey, you can move it."

He draws his finger back out before sinking it back into you, your gummy walls tightly clenching around his digit.

"Fuck, princess, you're so tight"

After a while, you get used to the feeling, mewls of pleasure slipping out of your mouth. Rafe notices this and adds a second finger and then proceeds to curl them, immediately finding the sensitive spot that makes you moan almost pornographically.

He repeatedly curls his fingers, hitting that spot each time until your walls flutter around him before you come undone. You orgasm coating his fingers in your juices.

Part 2...?

[little-diable]

Let the Rain Wash Away Our Secrets – Charlie Swan (smut)

It's been some time since I've last written for one of our fave DILFs, so here we go. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader is one of Bella's best friends. But as she comes to Forks to visit her younger friend, Bella is too distracted by her boyfriend, giving (y/n) and Charlie the chance to get to know one another.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, car smut, best friend's dad trope, quite fluffy, age gap (reader is legal ofc)

Pairing: Charlie Swan x fem!reader (3k words)

Clouds covered the sky, adding to the gloomy atmosphere (y/n) found herself trapped in. Her eyes kept wandering, taking in her surroundings as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Protected from the light rain by her jacket, (y/n) cuddled herself further into the fabric, while she hoped that somebody would finally open the door. 

Once again, she rang the bell while wondering where Bella was. It had been days since they had last spoken, but while (y/n) had reminded her friend of her approaching trip, Bella had seemed distracted, as if she was barely listening. (Y/n) had been hesitant to visit after the call, and yet she had missed her friend too much to back out of the trip. 

With a sigh clawing through her, (y/n) reached for her phone to call Bella, hoping that she had fallen asleep or was wearing headphones, so she wasn’t hearing the ringing doorbell. But Bella didn’t pick up the call, letting it go to voicemail as (y/n) plopped down on the stairs leading up to the house. 

Annoyance flushed through (y/n) as she ended the call. Bella had sent her Charlie Swan’s phone number a few weeks ago, telling her that she could always call him if (y/n) needed her but couldn’t reach her. But (y/n) had never spoken to the man before, unsure what to say to him, and if he would even know who she was, given Bella’s distraction these past weeks. 

Uneasiness clung to (y/n) as she clicked on Charlie’s contact, having to deeply exhale before pressing the phone to her ear. She counted every ring, while slowly losing hope that the Chief would pick up the phone if he was currently working. But seconds before she’d be sent to voicemail, she was graced by Charlie’s raspy voice. 

“Hello?” Something about the man’s voice left (y/n) trembling, having to clear her throat before she could focus on what she wanted to ask him.

“Hello, Chief Swan, this is (y/n), Bella’s friend.” She pressed her free palm against her trembling knee, hoping that she could ground herself as her nervousness kept flushing through her. 

“(Y/n), yes, of course. Are you alright? Is Bella okay?” The concern dripping from his voice left (y/n) smiling. Bella hadn’t told her much about Charlie, but the things the young girl had told her, had been enough to leave (y/n) intrigued. Something about the things Bella had told her, hadn’t matched up, leaving her aching for the man who was undoubtedly missing his daughter. 

“I don’t know. She was supposed to wait here for me, at your house, but it seems as if nobody is at home, I can’t reach her.” The groan leaving Charlie drew a soft gasp from (y/n), wondering why he was overcome by this clear wave of annoyance. 

“I’m so sorry, (y/n), she’s out with her boyfriend. Give me a few minutes, I’ll come home to let you into the house!”

……

“I honestly wouldn’t mind taking the couch, Charlie.” Charlie had arrived at the house a while ago, greeting (y/n) with a soft smile that had instantly made heat buzz through her system. She had only seen a few pictures of the man before, and none of them were doing him justice. Charlie Swan was handsome, more handsome than (y/n) had imagined, leaving her slightly distracted as he guided her through the house. 

“No, don’t worry. I have to get up for work early anyway, I would only wake you.” She followed him back downstairs into the kitchen, watching him reach for two cups. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.” The smile playing on her lips kept growing as Charlie poured both of them their coffee before placing the cups down on the table. “So, Bella didn’t tell me about her boyfriend. Who is he?” 

“His name is Edward, they met at school. He’s the son of Doctor Cullen, a friend of sorts.” The lack of emotions dripping from Charlie’s words left (y/n) smiling, instantly picking up on the chief’s dislike of Edward. (Y/n) studied him for a moment, taking in the clear confusion and annoyance as well as a hint of sadness. 

“Well, you know, I’ve been around Bella for years now, and I’m sure he takes good care of her if she is that focused on him.” (Y/n) couldn’t stop her hand from finding Charlie’s, softly squeezing before she pulled away again. His eyes followed her movements, seemingly as shaken up by the electricity that had buzzed through them the second their hands touched. 

“She should be proud to call you her friend, (y/n).” She had met Bella years ago, had helped around their house every now and then and had stepped in as a helping hand whenever Renée and Phil had left the city, given that (y/n) was a couple of years older than Bella. She had always supported the girl through whatever she needed, feeling like her older sister – ready to help her through every uneasy water she had been forced to sail through. 

“That’s nice of you, thank you, Charlie.” Their eyes held contact as (y/n) took another sip of her coffee. “So, do you have any tips for me? I think I’d like to explore Forks while Bella is out.” 

……

“Dad?” Bella’s voice echoed through the house. It was dark out, a comforting darkness that wrapped (y/n) and Charlie in its embrace as they found themselves surrounded by soft lights and candles. 

Charlie had shown (y/n) around town for the past hours before they had eaten out at the diner. The conversation between them had flown all too effortlessly, guiding them from one place to the other as if they were old friends, connected through shared memories and unspoken emotions. 

“Hey, Bells.” The girl stepped into the room, freezing in her step as her eyes found (y/n)’s features. Bella’s smile instantly fell, groaning with her head rolling back while speaking a few curses. “(Y/n), god, I am so sorry! I completely forgot you were coming today.” 

“It’s alright. Your dad kept me company.” Her eyes found their way back to Charlie, who shot (y/n) a soft smile, before redirecting his gaze towards his daughter. Bella seemed all too oblivious, not picking up on whatever was lingering between Charlie and (y/n), seemingly still focused on her afternoon with Edward. 

“How are the Cullens?” Charlie’s soft voice left (y/n) smiling. He had told her all about his dislike for the boy, and yet he still cared enough to hear about Bella’s experiences, her adventures, and whatever she was doing when she met up with the rather tense boy. 

“Good! I can’t wait to introduce you to them, (y/n). I think I’ll head to bed now, but how about we grab some breakfast in the morning?” (Y/n) could only nod as Bella disappeared upstairs, leaving her wondering if Bella even cared about her visit after all. Charlie seemed to pick up on her confused expression, letting his hand rest on her knee to softly squeeze it. 

“As much as I hate it, she’s in love. I’m sorry, she is so distracted these days. But feel free to call me tomorrow if she bails on you again, I’m not working in the afternoon.” 

……

“Hi, excuse me, is Chief Swan still in?” She smiled at the policeman who studied her with an unreadable expression. He turned from her to call for Charlie, watching the chief appear a moment later. (Y/n)’s eyes found his, drawing a soft smile to his lips as he guided her towards him with a simple hand movement. 

“Where’s Bells?” Charlie allowed her to step into his office, closing the door behind them to offer some privacy. (Y/n) plopped down in one of the leather chairs as Charlie took a seat himself, keeping his eyes on her with every movement. His office had an almost cosy touch to it, warmer than she had expected it to be. 

“She seemed quite antsy the longer I kept her from Edward, so I told her I’d roam the town on my own for a bit.” (Y/n) could tell that Charlie struggled to keep his eyes from rolling, while he sunk further down into his chair. They held eye contact as she let go of a soft chuckle, feeling sympathy for the dad of her friend who clearly struggled to accept his daughter’s boyfriend. 

“Well, I’m off in a few minutes, how about I take you to the beach I told you about yesterday?” The gratefulness she felt pushed heat through her body, a desperate heat that made it harder for her to ignore the growing crush she had on her friend’s father. (Y/n) could only murmur a barely audible “That’d be lovely” as Charlie turned back towards his computer to finish his report. 

It didn’t take long for him to stop writing, before guiding her out of the station and to his car. Soft music filled the small space as they drove through Forks, allowing Charlie to tell her some more stories of the town he had loved for years. She felt unusually comfortable around Charlie, searching his closeness as if he were an old friend, a lover she had been with for years, an all too familiar sensation she hadn’t felt with anybody else. 

“There we go, do you have a jacket with you?” Rain was falling from the sky as Charlie parked the car. Their eyes met, and for a second, (y/n) lost all strength to speak, fighting against the pull she felt deep inside of herself. She couldn’t cross that line, couldn’t try and move closer to her friend’s father, but it almost pained her to keep her distance. 

“Uhm, no, but it’s alright, I don’t care about the rain.” Charlie’s soft chuckles filled the car before he opened his door and stepped outside. She watched him open the trunk to pull out an umbrella before he found his way to her side. With the umbrella covering both of them, Charlie guided her towards the empty beach, watching the waves rush ashore as if they were racing one another. 

No words were spoken between them as she kept clinging to him, with her arm wrapped around his. The warmth Charlie emanated left her searching for his closeness, set on feeling him as close as he allowed her to. They walked along the beach with wandering eyes, taking in their surroundings, the dark sky and the high waves, letting an unusually calm atmosphere flush through them. 

“It’s funny how nothing around here has changed over the years.” He almost whispered the words, luring (y/n)’s curious gaze towards his handsome features. Charlie was already looking at her, wearing a soft smile on his lips as he slowly moved his hand, stroking one of the hair strands that had fallen into her face behind her ear. Shudders shot down her spine, pulling her closer to Charlie. 

“Did you ever think of leaving?” (Y/n) matched the quiet tone of his voice, she kept staring up at him as Charlie’s hand lingered on her cheek. His thumb explored her cheek, stroking her soft skin as if he had lost all will to fight against what was buzzing between them. She tried not to move, tried to stop herself from crossing the small distance between them, but the longing swimming in his pupils made it harder for (y/n) to hold still. 

“Tell me to stop, (y/n).” It was a soft plead, words (y/n) couldn’t reply to as she shifted her weight and finally pressed her lips against Charlie’s. The kiss left her lips tingling, letting the sensation buzz through her body as if lightning had struck them. She slung her arms around his neck, groaning at the sensation of his beard scratching her skin – a sensation that made heat pool between her thighs. 

His free hand found her waist to pull her against him, while their tongues met, deepening the kiss as rain kept pouring down on them. Only as the sound of thunder roaring in the sky echoed through their ears did they pull away. Both were heavily breathing, staring at one another with bright smiles that left them chuckling, feeling like teenagers in love. 

“Come, let’s get back to the car.” Charlie guided her along the beach, back to the empty parking lot. She felt giddy with every step they took, wondering how the next moments would play out while very well knowing that she hadn’t gotten enough of Charlie. She needed more, needed whatever he could offer her. 

Charlie pressed her against the car without another warning, kissing (y/n) again as if they were lovers reunited after years apart. Their movements were guided by an unfamiliar longing, something both hadn’t cared for these past years. 

He parted from (y/n) with a soft sigh before he opened the car door for her, letting her get inside as he did the same on his side. The comfort the car offered wrapped them in its embrace, drawing relieved sighs from them while the rain kept pitter-pattering down on his windows. Their eyes kept holding contact as (y/n) pondered over her choices, unable to bite down her grin. 

“Pull back your seat, Charlie.” He needed a moment before he set into motion, pulling back the seat enough for (y/n) to climb over the middle console and find comfort in his lap. Their lips searched one another like pilgrims, drawing groans and moans, filled with a desperation that urged (y/n) on to move her hips, grinding against his middle. The throaty groan that broke through Charlie left her grinning in success while she moved her hips again, feeling him grow beneath her. 

“We have to stop before I won’t be able to pull away, baby.” His words drew a whine out of (y/n), her lips were kissing their way down his throat as her hands worked on his belt, not daring to think of stopping. Charlie’s hand found her throat, forcing (y/n) to look at him as her hands stopped moving. 

“Charlie, I want this, I want you.” (Y/n)’s whispers left him groaning, forcing him to slowly nod to wordlessly allow her hands to keep on moving. With a grin stuck to her lips, she freed his hardening cock before she spat into her hand to pump him. Her walls fluttered around nothing, begging to be filled by him, needing to feel Charlie spread her. 

“I don’t have anything on me.” She let her eyes flicker up to meet his stormy ones, getting lost in his gaze for a few seconds as she kept moving her hand, feeling him twitch in her grasp. 

“I’m on the pill.” Grateful that she was wearing a dress, (y/n) began to shift on his lap, searching his lips for another kiss as she positioned herself over his cock. Their moans were swallowed by the kiss, echoing through the car while (y/n) sank down on him. For a moment, both held still, having to adjust to the new sensation, getting used to the way their bodies fit together all too perfectly. 

“You feel so good, baby, fuck.” His words encouraged (y/n) to keep on moving, supported by his hands that guided her. She grew wetter by the second, letting her arousal coat his cock with every hasty movement, chasing an orgasm that was already close. Both knew that this wouldn’t last long, having to get this first orgasm out of the way before he could properly fuck her back at home, touching her like she deserved to be touched. 

“Such a good girl, my pretty girl.” Charlie’s praises made her walls flutter, clenching down around him to push them both closer to the edge. (Y/n) kept moving, kept fucking herself on his cock with cries breaking out of her the second his fingers found her pulsing bundle, adding more friction to every movement. 

“Charlie,” she sobbed his name as her eyes fluttered close, knowing she’d cum soon, letting go with his name clawing through her any moment now. He began to meet her thrusts, pushing his cock even deeper into her tightness to watch her come undone on top of him. 

“Look at me, baby, look at me when you cum.” Their eyes found back together as (y/n) came with a cry, letting his name break through her. His hands kept supporting her, chasing his own orgasm while fucking into her. They were a trembling mess of tangled limbs, and yet both felt more relieved than ever before, thanking their lucky stars for pushing them together. Charlie followed her seconds later, letting go with a deep growl that forced (y/n) to shudder against him. 

“Fuck,” Charlie’s pants left (y/n) chuckling. He was still buried inside of her, even as she pressed herself against his chest, focused on the racing beat of his heart. He held onto her with his arm slung over her back, not daring to let go of the woman who fit into his grasp a tad bit too well. 

“I don’t know how we will tell Bella about this.” Her whispers rang in his ears, forcing a gritty chuckle from Charlie while pondering over her words. 

“I doubt she will notice anything while she is that distracted by her boyfriend.” And with a hum clawing through (y/n), she lifted her head to look at him. Another soft kiss was shared between them, wordlessly communicating their every emotion that grew stronger by the second.

[laurfilijames]

Worst Way

Pairing: Will 'Ironhead' Miller x female reader

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Mention of mutual masturbation/video call sex. Unprotected intercourse. Will in that polo shirt.

Summary: Will comes home from doing a stint of talks and his only priority is getting his fill of you, your time apart making him need you in the worst way.

A/N: I've been listening to this song on repeat and needed to write about it, and the character I felt that fit it the best was our Captain Miller. We'll consider this a little early birthday treat to myself, I was going to wait until Tuesday to post it but I'm too excited! A big thank you to @spaghettificationandpretzels for making me the beautiful banners to use!

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In the grand scheme of things, five days was a blink compared to the amount of days he’d been away from you before, but as he drew closer to being home, Will’s impatience to get there was becoming nearly unbearable.

He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, the leather feeling cool to his palm that was hot from his eagerness and holding it in the same spot for too long now, glancing at his watch on his wrist where he calculated he had exactly two hours and fifty-three minutes left until he would pull in the driveway.

Each day had been the same; driving from base to base all along the coast from Tampa to Houston, waking up in an uncomfortable motel bed he tried hard not to think about how many other people had laid in doing god knows what, and giving his memorized speech to a different room full of candidates considering signing on to be part of the Special Forces.

It was all automatic by now, having said the same words one hundred and ninety-two times, his mind able to drift off to what you were doing as he spoke without a second thought, wondering if you were making coffee in the kitchen wearing just his hoodie and your underwear, or if you were cleaning the house, feeling jealous of your fingers grazing over every surface and all the belongings that made up your home.

He imagined your smile; greeting the cashier warmly as you placed groceries onto the belt from the cart, grinning as you said thank you to the older gentleman who held the door open for you as you left the store, and knowing he was so close to seeing it for himself again kept him hanging on to get through each long day without you.

Late night video calls and texts sent between lectures helped carry him through, feeling grateful to at least have that compared to what little communication he would have when he was deployed, a crooked grin tugging his lip up as he thought to your last video call from the night before; both of you laying naked in your separate beds, touching yourselves in ways that were instructed by the other, the sounds of your moans brought on by your own hand still repeating in Will’s mind now.

He adjusted in his seat, his right foot pressing on the accelerator with slightly more pressure, the need to get home and have you increasing to a level he couldn’t tolerate anymore than he already had.

Rain started speckling on the windshield, a few drops at first before turning into a steady fall, the streams of it on the glass reminding him of all the showers you had solo in his absence, feeling envious of the water running down your skin and every curve, imagining you slipping into your bedsheets with drops still clinging to you and marking the cotton with darker spots.

Will wondered if it was raining at home, too, if you were sitting on the porch watching it pour, always loving the sound of the rolling thunder and the tapping of each drop on the roof, or if the skies were clear as the sun started to go down, picturing the pinkish-orange light casting on your skin to make it glow in its golden hour.

With a sigh, he rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, accepting that no matter how much he continued to dream about you, it wouldn’t bring him any closer to home any faster, accepting that he had to live through each of these minutes in full until he was able to have his hands on you again.

With the sun now tucked behind the horizon and the ground saturated with water, Will slammed the door to his truck, leaving his bags in the back seat to get tomorrow, nothing more important than getting inside the house and getting his hands on you.

His boots ground against the wet pavement as he took purposeful strides to reach the front door, quickly inserting the key into the deadbolt and unlocking it, the smell of home and of you filling his nose as soon as he turned the handle and stepped inside.

Before he could close the door behind him, you walked around the corner from the hallway leading to your bedroom, your smile making his heart leap in his chest as you locked eyes with him.

You rushed into his arms, your body warm and soft, the feel of your hands carding up his back making goosebumps break out on his skin. You both peeled away from each other slightly, exchanging a look that spoke more than words could before crashing your lips together, a shared moan transferring between your mouths as the desperation you both felt finally set in.

Will kicked the door shut with his foot, making it slam so hard the walls shook, his hands tearing to get to your form that was covered by an oversized t-shirt and quickly discovering that was all you had on.

He growled against your lips, his hands squeezing your bare ass and spreading your cheeks slightly, feeling you press your hips forward into his in a silent request for more.

Your chest rubbed against his body, the tight fit of his polo allowing him to feel how hard your nipples were through both of your shirts, your arousal clearly having built up as much as his had in anticipation of his arrival.

He felt drunk with lust, his senses working primally as everything about you made him feral, your scent and touch breaking him down to be nothing more than a man who needed his woman in the most raw and cardinal way.

Will grabbed at the hem of your shirt and ripped it up and off of you, his hand gripping your jawline when he met you in another claiming kiss, hearing your breathy moan die out in his mouth.

He forced himself to stop, his chest heaving as he broke the seal of your lips, seeing yours already puffy from his beard chafing against them and wet from his kiss.

You looked heavenly standing before him; naked and stunning, equally as vulnerable as you were strong, your frame small in the shadow of his. But what made him feel powerful was the love and lust held in your eyes, your heavy gaze consenting for him to take you how he needed, knowing you craved him as much as he did you as you shifted on the spot you stood, squeezing your thighs together while arching your back so your chest stook out.

A crooked, half-smile dressed his lips as he took a step toward you again, backing you up against the wall and shoving his thigh between your legs, watching with complete satisfaction as you closed your eyes at the feel of your bare sex contacting the rough denim of his jeans.

He dipped his head and latched onto your neck, sucking and nipping at your tender skin, making you squirm against him and begin to ride his thigh, his hand slapping the painted drywall beside your head.

His fingers dug into the flesh on your hips with his other hand, clawing at you in a way he knew might leave bruises but that you also loved, aiding your movements on him as you ground back and forth.

“Will…” you whined, his name the only word uttered between you so far, the sound of it coming off your tongue so desperately in combination with how your hands clawed at his shoulders encouraging him to kiss your neck even more and press his leg up harder against your core.

His mouth traveled upward along your throat and under your chin, pulling your earlobe with his teeth before making his way back to your lips, growling when your hands ran over his straining cock in his jeans and then tugged at his shirt to untuck it from his waist.

He lifted his arms for you to whisk it over his head, returning to your mouth instantly while your soft hands smoothed over his bare chest, his skin feeling like it was lit on fire wherever your palms had laid.

You worked next on his belt, the sound of the metal clanking undone and then his zipper sliding open almost lost in the wet smack of your lips, your fingers sliding behind his back to pull his jeans along with his boxer-briefs down over his ass. They fell at his feet and he stepped out of them as quickly as he could, holding your face in his hands to try to keep you near him, but feeling you sink away from him as you dropped to your knees.

The look in your eyes as you stared up at him made his cock throb even more, and when you took it in your hand and stroked it while bringing your lips to the tip, he knew he couldn’t go a second longer without being inside you, having you take him in your mouth not even enough to sate his need.

Will knelt in front of you, grabbing your face again as he kissed you hard, leaning his body forward to guide you back to lay you down beneath him.

Spread out beautifully for him, he covered you, his cock finding your entrance without assistance, and with the slight movement of his hips, he pushed inside your wet hole and stretched you out.

Your cry was suffocated by his tongue, your back arching off the floor as you succumbed to his size, and Will allowed no time for you to adjust, pulling out of you before slamming back in again.

His thrusts were powerful and unbroken, determined to give you everything you needed while taking from you everything he could, his pleasure controlling all of him and blinding any restraint he had left.

You met him with equal fervor, rolling your hips with his with a similar goal in mind, chasing what only he could provide you, feeling you get wetter by the second and already soaking his dick and groin.

Will held onto you tight, nearing his end, his hands grabbing at any part of you he was able to keep you as close to him as he could while he hammered into you, your cunt clenching around him in a way he knew that signalled you were about to come apart too.

Your nails scratched his back wildly, muscles tensing and straining in both of your bodies as you rode through your climaxes, Will continuing to pump in and out of you frantically as he coated your walls and filled you completely.

Feeling you contract around him again, he didn’t relent, fucking you more with all he had left as a second orgasm took hold of you, the feel of his cum leaking out of you extending your high in the most addicting way.

His panting breaths filled your mouth as your kisses began to slow, feeling you relax under him as he settled his pace until he eventually stilled in you, his hand smoothing over your forehead where he looked at you smiling sweetly at him after he’d peeled his face away from yours.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he purred, finally giving you a proper greeting.

You giggled softly, your finger tracing the crease beside his mouth. “Welcome home, Will.”

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Taglist:

@sotwk @dailydragon08 @sunnys-day @thedreadandthefugitivemind @glassgulls

@littlenosoul @glitterypirateduck @momia2910 @maggotzombie @rmwarn90

@paintlavillered @casa-boiardi @stealfromthedevil @kmc1989 @justreblogginfics

@spaghettificationandpretzels @whatever-lmaoo @steviebbboi

[maxinesgun]

hii, i loveddd ur last fic and was wondering if u could write jealous (but sweet) shane?? if ur up for it ofc ! either way btw I LOVE UR WRITING + THANK U FOR WRITING SHANE HER FICS ARE SO RARE

jealousy, jealousy ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

pairing: shane mccutcheon x fem!reader

summary: shane gets jealous when she notices a woman being flirty with you at a coffee shop.

cw: jealous!shane, smoking, some fluff, established relationship, oblivious reader, implied nsfw at the end. 2.1k

a/n: tysm anon!! love this request because i was definitely planning to write jealous shane are you kidding me? also sorry that the writing has slowed down, school has started back up again and I've been sick for the last week so I've been fighting for my life

It was almost the last straw for you when you reached into your bag and found that your wallet wasn’t there.

The first had been sleeping through your alarm, and the second was when someone had cut you off on the road, prompting you to let out a very rational string of curses. After throwing on the fist decent outfit you’d found in your closet and rushing out of the house faster than you probably ever had in your life, all you wanted was coffee to give you the strength to last through this day. That was why you’d taken your lunch break to head to your and Shane’s favourite coffee shop, conveniently close to your place of work and the gym she frequented.

Apparently, some caffeine was too much to ask for.

“God, I’m sorry, I must have forgotten my wallet,” you sighed to the guy behind the register, feeling more defeated than annoyed as you continued to rummage through your purse, as if expecting it to suddenly appear. You cast a glance over your shoulder to the glass doors hopefully, but Shane wasn’t here yet. She’d texted you saying she’d be there in five minutes or so.

You gave him an apologetic smile and were about to go sit and wait at one of the tables when a voice and a light tap on your shoulder drew your attention. “Excuse me, is this yours?”

The voice belonged to a pretty woman with blonde hair tied up in a ponytail and a smattering of freckles across her high cheekbones. Her smile was sweet and friendly, and she was holding out to you what was, sure enough, your wallet. 

You let out a relieved breath, giving her a look of gratitude as you took it from her. “Wow, I thought I lost it. Thank you. Seriously.”

“Found it out in the parking lot,” she said, pointing a thumb over her shoulder. “Trust me, it’s happened to me a few times.” The small laugh she let out was bubbly, the kind that made you want to automatically return it.

“You’re a lifesaver,” you said, holding up the wallet and flashing her a grin before moving back to the register to order your and Shane’s regulars. 

You stood by the counter to wait, and when the woman finished ordering for herself, she moved to stand beside you. 

“Heading to work?” she asked conversationally, her eyes flicking over your work attire.

You nodded, glancing down at yourself briefly. “Yeah. I’m on my break, actually,” you said with a smile. “I needed a coffee fix. If one more thing went wrong for me today, I’d be driving off a cliff right now.” 

She laughed again, a little too hard, in your opinion, at what hadn’t even been all that funny. Still, the smile on your lips grew a bit. Maybe you were just underestimating your own charm, here. “So you work around here?” she asked, to which you nodded. “So do I, actually. I own a flower shop on Millers.”

“No way! I’m down there a lot. You’ll have to tell me what it’s called so I can check it out sometime.”

The conversation flowed easily, drifting from discussing work to what you did for fun nearby. You were a little surprised by how easy it was, normally not being one for small talk in the slightest, but she was warm and attentive, reaching over to touch your arm once or twice as she laughed at some small quip you made.

The door swung open in your peripheral, and you glanced over to see Shane striding over to you with that relaxed, easy swagger she had. You shot her a grin as she made her way over, and she returned it, the corner of her lips crooking up, though you noticed that her eyes were flicking between you and the woman in front of you questioningly.

“Hey,” you greeted her, holding out the coffee you’d ordered for her.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” she said a little breathlessly, her hand brushing over your back lightly as she took the cup. A light, casually intimate touch. You were so caught up in smiling up at her in admiration that you’d forgotten momentarily that there was someone else standing right there. “Who’s this?” Shane asked, looking from you to the woman with an unreadable expression on her face.

“Oh! Right. This is…” you gestured to the woman, who was now glancing between you and Shane with a faint smile, but your words trailed off as you drew a blank. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I got your name,” you said with a laugh.

“It’s Sam,” she offered with a chuckle. “Or Samantha. But Sam’s fine.”

“Shane,” she introduced herself with a tight smile when Sam’s eyes turned back to her expectantly.

“Sam found my wallet. Apparently I dropped it in the parking lot,” you told Shane, who was taking a sip of her coffee, eyes roving over Sam as if sizing her up. “She was just telling me about the flower shop she owns downtown. We probably passed it before. Isn’t that cool?”

“Very cool,” Shane said in a noncommittal tone, eyebrows raising slightly. 

“You should definitely drop by sometime! I’d love to see you there,” Sam said brightly, eyes focused on you. “Bright yellow awning. Can’t miss it. Here, I’ll give you my card.” She began digging around in the satchel hanging from her shoulder. As she did, you felt Shane’s hand on your back again. It snaked around your waist, tugging you against her subtly.

When Sam straightened up, holding out a small business card between two fingers, you took it, eyes scanning over the picture on the front. “Don’t feel obligated to come, of course. I just thought… you know,” she said. You could feel her eyes on you as you flipped it over, murmuring your compliments about how it looked like a cute place. “That is such a pretty necklace on you, by the way,” she smiled, causing you to look up in some surprise as you touched a hand to your chest, flattered by the sudden compliment.

You thanked her just as Shane abruptly turned to you, reaching out to take the business card. “Can I see this?” She took it, studying it for all of two seconds. “Yep, there it is. Yellow awning,” she said flatly, her tone dripping sarcasm as she held up the card. She was smiling, but it was unnaturally tense—the kind of smile you plastered on to hide your irritation. “That is really great. Would you excuse us for a second?”

You looked at her, your brows slightly narrowed in confusion. She clearly wasn’t happy, you could see that much, but you didn’t know why she’d be in such a mood. Before you could open your mouth to say something to her, Sam did first.

“Of course, you probably have somewhere to be! Don’t let me hold you up.” She flashed another sweet smile at the both of you, picking up her coffee. “So nice to meet you!”

You had hardly finished returning her goodbye before you were practically being whisked out the door by Shane, her hand on your waist gentle but firm. “Hey—What are you doing? We just got here,” you protested as she pushed the door open, leading you outside.

“We can sit in my car,” she responded shortly, as if that made any sense at all. You relented, following her over to her car and watching as she pulled the door open and ducked in. You slid into the passenger seat beside her, the doors kept wide open.

You watched as she set her coffee down in the cupholder and immediately began rummaging around in the armrest, the sharp line of her jaw tensed. “Shane,” you said, but either she didn’t hear you or was too distracted to respond as she pulled out her pack of cigarettes, promptly pulling one out and sticking it between her lips.

Your brows raised slightly as she grabbed her lighter and lit up. She rarely smoked in the middle of the day like this. “Shane,” you repeated, a bit louder this time.

“What?” she asked innocently, looking over at you with the cigarette dangling from her lips.

“You want to tell me what that was? What, you didn’t like her?”

She took a long drag before just staring at you for a moment, as if unable to tell whether or not you were joking. “She was hitting on you.”

“What?” You laughed in disbelief. “No she wasn’t.” Sure, she’d been all smiles and had paid you a nice compliment, but that didn’t mean it was flirting.

Shane gave you that deadpan look again. “Yes, she was.”

“Maybe she was just being friendly. How do you know she’s not straight?”

She scoffed. “She’s not straight.”

“She could be straight.”

“I saw where her eyes were going.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, attempting to play at indignant but unable to help the grin that played across your lips. “What are you talking about?” 

Shane exhaled, a puff of smoke unfurling from her lips, as her gaze fell very pointedly to your chest before moving back up, the motion exaggerated. 

“She was looking at my necklace. She complimented it,” you protested, rolling your eyes.

“Are you kidding? That’s, like, the oldest trick in the book,” Shane pointed out, exasperated. “You want to check out someone’s tits, but you can’t be too obvious, so you focus on the jewelry. ‘Oh, hey, I like your necklace. It looks so pretty on you.’ See what I did there?”

Your gaze trailed from her to a spot out the window as you fell back against your seat, considering her words. It did make sense. And Shane would know, after all. She had probably pulled it herself once or twice. 

“Huh,” was all you said, your mind turning over the previous interaction in light of this new information. You weren’t displeased by it; it had been awhile since you’d been flirted with. Or maybe you got hit on all the time but just completely failed to notice, if today was any indication.

“Yeah. Huh.” You felt her gaze lingering on you for a few moments before she turned back to the window, taking another drag. “N’ since when have you ever wanted to go to a flower shop?” she mumbled, disgruntled.

The grouchiness in the remark caught your attention, and you breathed a laugh, leaning over on the armrest. “Oh, come on,” you said teasingly, your grin only growing when she shot you an unamused look. You couldn’t help it—it was cute, the way she was pouting, the little scowl on her face. “I don’t, babe.”

“That’s not what you said in there,” she said stubbornly.

“I promise.” You leaned forward to pinch her cheeks in your hand, just to make her pay attention to you, to which she batted your hand away lightly. Your heart gave a sudden clench of affection as your eyes roamed over her face. “I do kinda like it when you’re jealous, though.” Your voice was soft, teasing.

“I’m not jealous,” she muttered, huffing a little. “I just didn’t like seeing her be all… touchy. And smiley.” She made a face.

You plucked the cigarette out of her hand, leaning back in your seat. With a sound of protest, Shane reached for it, grinning despite herself as she practically fell over you. She braced herself with an arm against the seat, your faces inches apart. “Give that back.”

You held the cigarette out of reach, your other hand coming up to cup her face, your thumb brushing over her lips. God, she was pretty. “You’re right. Only you get to do those things,” you said as you pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. “No one else.” You kissed her again, a little longer this time, and you heard her give a low grumble in her throat as she kissed you back. At the same time, her hand tangled with yours to retrieve the cigarette.

“Yeah?” she said in a low voice when she pulled back, her eyes still glued to your mouth. Her head lifted briefly to give a quick glance around before looking back down at you, that familiar mischievous glint in her eyes. “You want to prove it to me?”

The corner of your lips quirked up, your stomach giving a little flutter at the way she was staring at you. “Prove it to you how?”

She smirked, knowing you knew exactly what she meant. “How much time do you have left?”

You quickly dug around for your phone, clicking it on to check the time, then promptly dropped it back into your purse. You grabbed her cigarette again, this time earning no protest, and tossed it out the door, swinging a leg out and using the heel of your boot to grind it into the pavement. “Enough.”

[no-144444]

chancer- o.piastri

Day 31 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

summary: Can he figure out who you are at the masquerade ball before you leave forever?

a/n: thank you everyone for reading these stories over the last month! this has been so fun and i've loved getting to write everyday!

ps, these were the costumes i had in mind (plus random masquerade masks):

you: oscar:

(both from pinterest!)

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Oscar knew he wasn’t the first person anyone would choose to go to a party with. He was awkward, quiet, unknown, and uninterested in getting to know new people. He had his friend group; Logan, Lando, Alex, Charles, George, Daniel, Pierre, Arthur, Liam, and himself. He was happy just talking with his friends. He wasn’t looking for more, and he didn’t want to entertain small talk more than he already had to with his job.

“What if you meet someone there?” Alex had wondered out loud, trying to persuade him to go. He was the only girlfriend-less guy in the group. Alex knew he wasn’t looking for a girlfriend. He knew, because every single week one of their girlfriends would text him about ‘a friend that was really interested’ and every time he’d say no. He wasn’t looking for a hook-up (mostly because he didn’t believe in hook-up culture, not being into having sex with someone without knowing them), and he didn’t want to lead someone on. Objectively, yes, he knew he was an attractive man. He was a fucking racecar driver who was paid to take care of his body. He was paid to model clothes and go to nice events. He was paid to drive a fast car, on track and off it. Could he probably put more effort into his look? Absolutely. He didn’t even own a hairbrush, and he wasn’t going to start anytime soon. 

Yet there he stood, pirate costume on (complete with a masquerade mask, as to keep with the theme of the party), walking into the biggest house he’d seen in a while, with a bubbly sense of anxiety in his stomach. Logan was walking beside him, talking to Liam about something or other. 

“You’re nervous,” Arthur teased. Oscar rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t want to be here,” he sighed as he got handed a drink. 

“Why not? Have a bit of fun!”

“Fun to you, is drinking and making out with your girlfriend in the corner of a party. Fun for me, is going home and sleeping,” Oscar took a swig o f his drink, it burned as it went down his throat. 

“We should’ve invited Hattie instead,” he scoffed. Hattie and Arthur had become friends during Oscar’s overlapping time in F2 with Arthur. Hattie was always the more outgoing sibling, and Oscar wouldn’t have blamed them for inviting her instead of him. He could’ve at least gone home and slept. 

“Oscar!” Fernando cheered, resting an arm over his shoulders. “You came!” 

Ah, this was Fernando’s party. Of course. 

“Of course I did,” he smiled. Fernando had always been kind to him, especially in his time in Alpine. 

“I have someone I want you to meet,” he whispered. “It’s a girl…” Oscar rolled his eyes. “Is everyone trying to set me up with someone tonight?” 

“Maybe, I know I am,” he laughed. “Follow me.” 

Oscar dutifully followed behind Fernando, being brought further into the party. It was going to be impossible to find any of his friends again, so he sent the group chat a quick text to meet him at the front door in 1 hour, as that would be when he would be leaving. He was met with sad and angry emojis, but he didn’t care. The host had seen him, and he had a weekend's worth of sleep to get.   

“This is-” Fernando was too quiet to be heard over all the shouting and singing. But in front of both of them stood you. You were dressed as a mermaid. What a pair you two made. 

Oscar’s mouth literally fell open. You were gorgeous, the costume showing a great deal of skin and he was not complaining. What really drew him in was the bright smile on your lips as Fernando spoke (he had tuned everything else out) and the way you nodded along. 

“So, I’m sure you’ll get acquainted!” Fernando announced just in time for Oscar to close his jaw and stop drooling. Then your attention turned on him. 

“I think him telling me who you are defeats the purpose of the masks, right?” you chuckled. He chuckled. 

He was a goner. 

“You’re right,” he smiled. “I’m Oscar.”

“I know,” you bit your lip, smiling brightly. “He told me, remember?”

He internally kicked himself. “Of course, yeah. Sorry.” 

“No need to be sorry,” you shouted over the music. “It’s a little loud in here, want to go somewhere quieter?”

He nodded. “Yeah!” 

You took his hand and led him out to the garden, which was still full of drunk people. You brought him further, him following diligently. You brought him to the edge of the forest at the back of the house. “You trust me?”

He nodded, trusting you implicitly. You led him further, into the forest, until you made it to a treehouse. 

You helped him up (despite being in a skirt), and there you two sat for a moment, just enjoying the quiet. 

“What do you like to do?” you asked, out of the blue. 

“I like to drive-”

“Other than of driving,” you giggled. 

He smiled. “Well, I like to sleep, I like to play video games, I like watching movies, I like baking-”

“Baking?” you questioned. 

“Yeah, baking,” he nodded. 

You looked at him sceptically. “Explain.”

He chuckled. “Well, my mum and my grandma used to make me sit with them in the kitchen to learn how to bake, and when I was a kid, I fucking hated it. Now that I’m older, I love it. It’s so relaxing.”

“You learn something new everyday,” you smiled. 

“What about you?”

“Well, I like to read, I like to cook, I like hanging out with my friends and family, I like writing-”

“What do you write about?” he asked.   

You smiled cheekily, he could see the way your eyes crinkled, just slightly. It made him smile. 

“You chancer, I don’t know if I can tell a random stranger that…” you shook your head. “I’ll need to get to know you better.”

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So, there you two sat, talking about your lives, enjoying each other's company, and just having fun. The hour he was supposed to spend had long since passed, and he had silenced his phone the second you had started talking about your life. He didn’t see the messages from his friends about leaving, he didn’t see the missed calls from them, wondering if he was alright. He didn’t want to either. 

You ended up with your head on his shoulder as the topic of love somehow came up. 

“Have you ever been in love?” you asked, curious about his experience. 

“I don’t think so,” he answered, mildly confused. 

“So, no then.” 

He chuckled. “No, then. You?”

You shook your head. “Nope. But I do love racing.”

“You race?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “MotoGP.” 

“That’s awesome,” he praised. 

You looked into his eyes, the majority of his face covered by the mask. “I want to kiss you right now,” you admitted, your voice low. 

He gulped. “I want to kiss you right now.” 

You smiled cheekily again. “What’s stopping you?” 

And that was that. He kissed you.

His hands found space on your hips and held you against him, feeling the sparks between you two like a fuckign fire. He wanted so much more than just one kiss. Your lips against his was like the perfect symphony, your hands on his body the greatest touch, his hands on your skin like the softest connection. 

“Oscar,” you moaned against his lips as he bit down on your bottom lip, his tongue fighting yours. 

The loud bang of fireworks pulled you both apart. You both gasped, pulled away abruptly, then laughed as your adrenaline calmed down. 

“That was…” he started. 

“Wow,” you finished. 

He chuckled. “Wow,” he agreed. 

You checked your phone, wondering the time. “Shit!” you cursed. “I have to go, it was awesome meeting you, my friends-”

“Can I get your number?” he asked, rushing after you. 

“I think that defeats the purpose of the night Oscar,” you chuckled. 

“I-I don’t even know your name!” he stressed. He needed to see you again. “I want to see you again.” 

You ran ahead of him, rushing through the trees. He followed behind, thankful that his trainer makes him go on endurance runs. 

As you two got back into the house, you tried to shake him off, just for fun. He wasn’t budging. When you finally made it to the front door, he grabbed your arm and kissed you. Again, those same butterflies were sent free in your stomach, and this time it didn’t make you nervous. It made you happy. 

As he kissed you, he pulled your mask off, revealing your identity to him as he pulled away. 

“Shit you’re beautiful,” he chuckled. “Sorry if that was too-”

You cut him off with a kiss of your own, pulling off his mask. “Pretty handsome yourself.” 

He smiled. “Please. I want to see you again.” 

“You already have my number, idiot,” you chuckled. 

“I know,” he chuckled. “I’m just asking you out now anyways.” 

You smiled. “Yes, I’ll obviously go out with you.” 

He pressed his lips to yours once again, and both of your friend groups cheered, happy that you’d finally gotten together.

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[azrielwingspan]

SHATTERED (AZRIEL X READER)

Summary : You finally scraped up enough courage to tell Azriel how you felt. Unfortunately, not everything is meant to be.

Warnings : ANGSTTTTT, ANGSTTT.

Joy rushed through you as you took a moment to pause and look around. Your closest friends and family were gathered in your house taking a break from all the chaos plaguing your world.

Laughter poured out uninhibited, memories were shared and a cocoon of comfort and love was created. This was all you had ever wanted. This was everything you fought for. This was everything you had sacrificed the innocent part of yourself for.

Sighing in contentment, you let a memory from a couple of years back wash over you.

"I-I don't want you to go." you sobbed holding onto Azriel's hand. "P-Please Az. What if you---" you couldn't finish the sentence, just the thought of it sending more tears running down your sweaty and blood stained face.

"Y/N, I have to help them. I can't stand by and watch the others get slaughtered. I can't live with that regret Y/N, it's a slow death. At least this way, death might find me faster." Azriel pulled you to him, holding the back of your head close to his chest as you sobbed harder.

You couldn't be selfish. You knew your chance of winning would increase drastically if Azriel went out there. Even if it was at the cost of his own life. Yet, you couldn't help but regret all the moments you didn't have because you couldn't confess to him your true feelings.

You had been close friends for so long, you couldn't recall your life before him. The days felt brighter and happier, the nights were filled with drinks and laughter. He knew everything about you.

Almost everything.

You didn't know exactly when your feelings blossomed into something more but it was all you could think about most days. The colour of his eyes, the way he laughed with his head thrown back, the warm hugs he gave when he greeted you , the comforting touches on your arm when you were anxious about something.

Soon enough, you had started to notice the more...physical aspects. The way his tanned skin glistened with sweat after a training session, the curl of his biceps as he lifted his sword, the way his powerful back muscles stretched and defined the lines of his back and his tattoos. For the love of the Cauldron, his tattoos. Once, after a particularly intense training session, he'd taken off his shirt to cool off. A bead of sweat had trailed down his shoulders over the lines of his tattoos. You had wondered what it would feel like to chase it with your tongue and lick it off. A cold soak was how you had spent the rest of your afternoon.

You'd been so conflicted with your own emotions, you didn't have the nerve to tell him how you'd felt.

But now ? When this might be the last moment the both of you would ever share together ?

No. No. You couldn't do that to him. He needed to be focused out there. You wouldn't do that to him. Instead, you drew away from his chest and placed your hand on the back of his neck pulling his forehead to yours.

"You come back to me. Okay? You come back to me and I will tell you something I've never had the courage to tell you before okay?"

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and yet he nodded in agreement, his eyes hardening with resolve. Good. Placing a chaste kiss on your forehead in farewell , he left you alone in the dark confines of the room.

"Where did you go ?" a voice broke you out of your memory, bringing you back to reality. The stark contrast between the both made a rush of gratefulness encompass you.

"Was thinking about something." you said, shooting a smile at Cassian. His eyes darted across your face, understanding dawning upon him. "It's real." he said softly, gently squeezing your hand. "The war is over. We're all here and alive."

Emotions welled up inside you filling you to the brim and lining your eyes with tears. Sniffling lightly, you turned your head to discreetly wipe away a tear that had escaped.

Cassian's arm wrapped around you, tugging you closer to him. "Bask in the moment, Y/N. Everyone here loves you, let it heal you."

The both of you made your way to the seating area where everyone was sprawled. Your eyes met Azriel's, who was already looking at you with a slightly concerned look on his face. You gave him a reassuring smile gesturing to him that everything was alright. Satisfied with your answer, he continued his conversation with Feyre.

You needed to tell him tonight. It didn't matter if he reciprocated it or not. You needed to get it off of your chest so you could move on with your life. Your mind pulled you back into another memory reminding you of what had happened the last time you tried telling him.

It was over. They were alive. He was alive. You waited at the entrance to the healers tent where he was being treated with your hands trembling and heart pounding. You had to see him with your own eyes. Drink your fill. You thanked the Cauldron and the Mother and every other entity that the people of Prythian believed in for keeping him alive.

The healer stepped out of the tent and got startled when she almost ran into you. "Sorry." you said sheepishly, trying to peer around her into the area within. Following your line of sight, the healer let a small smile come onto her face. "He's fine. He'll be out in a moment."

Bowing your head in thanks, feet tapping to expel the nervous energy, you continued your vigil for a few more minutes.

Your felt him before you saw him. His scent enveloped you in a warm embrace dispelling your nervous energy and replacing it with relief. A grin broke out on your face, hands reaching out to him to tug him into an embrace.

You buried your face in his neck, making sure not to put pressure on his wounds.

"It's over Y/N. It's all over." Azriel's voice cracked as he held you close.

Tell him. Your mind screamed at you trying to overcome the barriers you had kept up. Pulling back , you stared up at his face your mouth opening and closing as you tried to gather your thoughts and form a coherent sentence.

Steeling your resolve, you pushed yourself over the line you'd drawn.

"Az...I---"

You paused as you watched his eyes widen at something behind you. Relief and something else..something you couldn't decipher but spoke volumes morphed his face.

"Mor..." he breathed out before letting go of you, the loss of touch feeling like a punch to the gut.

He rushed towards Mor who had been standing behind you at a distance nursing her own wounds. The cold air slammed into you at the loss of his body heat as if reminding you of your place in his life. Temporary.

You felt horrible. Mor had been injured as well and instead of helping her out, here you were feeling pitiful as you watched Azriel walk away. You couldn't move. You were frozen to the spot, a few tendrils of your hair whipping around you as the sting of the cold reddened your cheeks and cracked your lips.

You watched unblinking as he made his way to Mor , cradled her face in his hands and crushed her into a hug. You watched unblinking as his posture turned from tensed to relaxed the moment he hugged her. You watched unblinking as he shuffled away with her deeper into the camp.

Leaving you behind.

"You're doing that thing again." a voice broke you out of the memory yet again. This time it was Azriel. He'd switched places with Cassian, settling down on the floor next to you.

"Sorry. Long day." you said scooting closer to him as he draped an arm around you casually. You clinked your glasses and took a sip of your drinks settling into comfortable silence.

You'd noticed over the past few months that he'd stopped giving Mor longing looks and heated glances. The hope and feelings that you'd buried deep inside had come back to life despite your efforts to ignore them. Maybe you were foolish. But you'd never know unless you finally let it out. It was becoming too heavy for you to carry on your own.

"Az.." you said softly.

"Hmm..?" he leaned closer bringing his ear to your lips. Head buzzing at the proximity, you tried not to stammer as you said "I need to speak to you about something. Can you come to my room later?"

"Yeah sure. Everything okay?" he asked pulling back to look into your eyes.

"Y-Yeah."

"Liar." he murmured, eyes darting over your face. "You're nervous."

You gulped instinctively, his eyes taking note of the small action. He didn't miss anything. Except the one thing that mattered the most. He had somehow never figured out that his best friend is in love with him.

"Let's go now." he said bracing his hands on the floor to stand up.

"No...but..." you looked up at him dumbfounded.

"Everyone is going to head to bed soon. They're just waiting for someone to make the first move." he grinned holding out his hand for you to take.

Letting the warmth of his hand ground you, you stood up and dusted off your pants. You didn't notice the set of eyes that trailed you both as you left the room.

You went through all the possible scenarios in you head , braving yourself against the whirlwind of emotions that were about to be exposed. Now or never.

"Y/N." You stopped in your tracks noticing that Azriel wasn't beside you. Turning around, you saw him observing a flower pot that you had purchased from the market recently.

"Since when did you stop and stare at flowers?" you laughed walking back towards him.

A slight blush rose up on his cheeks making your smile broader.

"I got it at the market. Redecorating the whole place because I wanted it to be more lively. Do you like ?"

"Yes." he whispered as your face started giving way to confusion. He was acting very strange.

"It's just a plant Az. If you like it, have it. I'll just get another one." you watched his face closely.

"No..no I won't take it. I was just admiring it." He straightened up, pulling his eyes away from the plant.

"Ooookay, if you say so." you said brushing away the confusion. Yet, a bad feeling had taken root in your stomach. Nerves, you told yourself brushing that away as well.

"Actually..." he cleared his throat. "Can you give me the name of the seller. Maybe I'll get one for...myself." He wouldn't meet your eyes instead choosing to look right past you. He looked embarrassed, maybe shy even.

The bad feeling pushed its roots deeper, curling itself around you and making its way to the heart. You suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

However, you managed to choke out "Yourself? Or...someone, Az?"

He shuffled his feet , scratching the nape of his neck.

The roots reached your heart, slowly squeezing and fracturing the already delicate thing. You didn't need him to say the name. The sweet beautiful girl who had caught his eye. The female who was everything you weren't. The stark opposite.

"E-Elain?" you rasped, willing yourself to not show any reaction.

A faint smile appeared on his face at hearing her name.

Oh.

Oh.

You know the moment in time when you realise that something will impact you so detrimentally , you will never be the same again?

This moment defined it.

You almost heard your heart shatter...all over again.

Unfortunately this time, you didn't know if you had the energy to pick up the pieces and put them back together.

You felt hot and cold at the same time, frozen in time but feeling the burn in your eyes and heart. You'd gone still, oh so still wondering and horrified about how you would deal with this.

You'll never be his first choice. Your mind whispered making your heart clench painfully.

"Y/N?" Azriel stepped forward , concern etched into his face.

You instinctively stepped back, hoping that physical distance could repair something ..... anything within you.

Hurt flashed across his features as he noted the movement. You were exhausted . You were so tired of hiding your emotions behind a shield.

So you let him see.

You let him see the pain, the love, the anger, the regret and the fear behind your eyes.

You let him see the tears that trailed down your face and the tremble of your hands.

You let him see what you could've been and what would never be anymore.

Once the understanding dawned upon him, you turned around and walked away leaving behind the fragments of your heart at his feet.

A/N: That was DRAMATIC SHEEESH.

[thecordelialetters]

Homelander x Vampire! Reader

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Summary: There's nothing that taste better than the blood of the strongest supe in the world. Warning: Fem! reader insert, smut, explicit sex Wc: 1,778

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Since you developed them at the age of 8, your powers were a blessing and a curse. Gifted with an immortal indestructible body, the speed that rivaled A-Trains, and the strength of a thousand men, you had one flaw, your insatiable thirst. As a young girl who knew nothing of control, you tore right through your parents, ripping them limb from limb and sucking them dry. You've gotten a lot better at self-control since then, though the memory still haunts you. Starlight, or Annie as you knew her from her childhood was the sweetest girl you ever met. You had known her since she was a little and babysat her when her mom was away. The ball of sunshine always asked to see your fangs ( not that her mom knew until Annie was older ) and loved riding on your shoulders while you ran. She would ask you to throw her up and down, always falling into a fit of giggles, before making you chase her through the house.

You saw Annie all the way to adulthood being a loyal friend by her side when she joined the Seven and even after she met the boys and her boyfriend Hughie. As much as the spineless man annoyed you with his nerdy tendencies and sweaty smell, he was good to Annie. That's how you end up in the Vought Tower as a double agent. Ashley was the one who found you, she saw some articles about the good deeds you had done a few years back and wondered why with powers such as yours, you had flown under the radar. You could hear her voice in the meeting room introducing you. "Homelander this is Night Crawler, she would make a great member of the team, her abilities include super strength, hearing, and speed." You could smell her blood pumping and her heart rapidly beating under the scrutiny of Homelander's eyes. Pushing the door open with one hand you strode in head held high while looking around the room.

"Hello, I am Night Crawler." Before you could say any more the sweetest aroma hit your nose making you close your eyes and inhale deeply. What is that smell... It was sweet and musky enough to make you feel yourself salavate. When you opened your eyes to look at the direction of the smell your gaze landed on... Homelander.

"Well Night Crawler... what else can you do? Other than the basics." You drew your fangs out and dashed behind him wrapping your hand around his waist. He turned around the retaliate but you were faster and blinked in front of him. "Interesting...very interesting." Homelander hummed while his eyes ran up and down your revealing costume. Your costume consisted of a black spandex suit where the shorts stopped right under your butt and the top had long sleeves with a v cut down the middle. Your leather boots went all the way up your thigh leaving a sliver of skin. It was simple but effective, though Butcher thought you could stand to show more skin. "I've decided. Congrats Nightcrawler, you've made the team." He flashed a dazzling smile showing off his pearly whites. "In fact let me give you a tour of the building, as the Seven's leader it's my job to show around the newbies." Ashley went to object, but her face was met with a large red gloved hand. "Come, Nightcrawler." He commanded. You scurried after him, the scent of his veins luring you closer. Homelander gestures behind him "So as you know back there was the team meeting room, we meet there every now and then to discuss missions, stats, new marketing promos etc." Moving his hand forward, towards the elevator "Each person on the team has their own suite, mine is up here, the biggest one, since I'm the leader." Okay seems like overcompensating but who knows. The two of you stepped into the luxurious surprisingly small space. The air was suffocating; you felt like he was planning something. The ding of elevator made you jump. "Ladies first." paired with that same fake smile. You nodded and walked forward and felt him pressed on your back hard. "Come on little lady, we have lots to see and do." You looked up at him towering over your frame. "Of course sir." As you followed after him you felt your throat run dry. Shit you didn't think this meeting would run so long. You tried to distract yourself with thoughts about anything, counting how many lights where on the wall or clawing your hand at your side. "Did you hear me? Are you even listening?" You could tell Homelander was yapping about something or boasting about his saves and was annoyed that you missed the whole speech. But your mouth was watering and your head was pounding. You looked up into his eyes, gazes met. Homelander furrowed his eyes. Earlier your eyes were a bright green and now they matched those of crimson rubies. You felt your fangs poke your mouth. "Sorry," you blinked rapidly to come back to your senses. "Well then...come on Ill show you your room." He swiftly turned, cape trailing behind him. You felt like you wouldn't last any longer, you needed to get into your stash. You had asked Ashley to fill your fridge with donated blood, all you had to do was wait Homelander out. "This is where you'll be staying." He swayed his arm across as if to say "You've probably never seen a place this nice before". The room was very...stereotypical of what was thought of as vampires. Black and red colors were splattered through the room, it looked as if you stepped into a victorian gothic home. "There better not be a fucking coffin in here." You whispered to yourself. Homelander chuckled at your comment. "Do you do much...sleeping?" He cocked his head to the bedroom, strolling in as if this was HIS place. You could feel your hunger surging, if he didn't get out in the next 2 minutes you where going to go crazy. Next thing you know Homeland is by yourside, hands on your shoulders. "You know, I think I know what might help you rela-" He was cut off when you spun around and jumped onto him, legs wrapped tightly around his mid section. One of your hands wrapped around his jaw, the other one holding his shoulder for balance. You bared your fang and bit. It was the sweetest blood you ever tasted. It was like a delicacy and you couldn't stop, hunger clouded your mind. You kept sucking, relishing the feeling on your tongue. Your legs and hands squeezed tighter as if it would keep the blood coming.

Homelander stiffened, what the actual fuck. Here he was trying to get in the new girl's pants but not she was sucking him off, and not in the way he intended to. But he was getting lightheaded and turned on. The feeling of your lips on his neck, core pressed so close to him. He let out a strangled moan. He felt himself stiffening, suit a little tighter than usual. Eventually satisfied you let go, lapping up any extra spills with your tongue. Realizing what had happened and what position you where in you looked at Homelander ready to apologize. He couldn't help himself and slammed his lips on yours. The feeling of you sucking his neck was euphoric. His hand grazed your side, gentle like a lover. Before grabbing your neck and holding your body out. You hand grabbed his to release the tension. "What the fuck was that." You flashed your fangs towards him. "I need blood to sustain myself. And you have the best kind." Your smile was bloody and sadistic. It opened something up in Homelander. It was what he needed. Someone like him, you wouldn't mind his bloodshed you'd probably embrace it. He liked that you thought his blood was the best. I mean of course it was the best he was the strongest person in the world. He brought you closer to him, letting you stand on the ground.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚NSFW BELOW ⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧

Since you developed them at the age of 8, you're powers were a blessing and a curse. Gifted with an immortal indestructible body, the speed that rivaled A-Trains, and the strength of a thousand men, you had one flaw, your insatiable thirst. As a young girl who knew nothing of control, you tore right through your parents, ripping them limb from limb and sucking them dry. You've gotten a lot better at self-control since then, though the memory still haunts you. Starlight, or Annie as you knew her from her childhood was the sweetest girl you ever met. You had known her since she was a little and babysat her when her mom was away. The ball of sunshine always asked to see your fangs ( not that her mom knew until Annie was older ) and loved riding on your shoulders while you ran. She would ask you to throw her up and down, always falling into a fit of giggles, before making you chase her through the house.

You saw Annie all the way to adulthood being a loyal friend by her side when she joined the Seven and even after she met the boys and her boyfriend Hughie. As much as the spineless man annoyed you with his nerdy tendencies and sweaty smell, he was good to Annie. That's how you end up in the Vought Tower as a double agent. Ashley was the one who found you, she saw some articles about the good deeds you had done a few years back and wondered why with powers such as yours, you had flown under the radar. You could hear her voice in the meeting room introducing you. "Homelander this is Night Crawler, she would make a great member of the team, her abilities include super strength, hearing, and speed." You could smell her blood pumping and her heart rapidly beating under the scrutiny of Homelander's eyes. Pushing the door open with one hand you strode in head held high while looking around the room.

"Hello, I am Night Crawler." Before you could say any more the sweetest aroma hit your nose making you close your eyes and inhale deeply. What is that smell... It was sweet and musky enough to make you feel yourself salavate. When you opened your eyes to look at the direction of the smell your gaze landed on... Homelander.

"Well Night Crawler... what else can you do? Other than the basics." You drew your fangs out and dashed behind him wrapping your hand around his waist. He turned around the retaliate but you were faster and blinked in front of him. "Interesting...very interesting." Homelander hummed while his eyes ran up and down your revealing costume. Your costume consisted of a black spandex suit where the shorts stopped right under your butt and the top had long sleeves with a v cut down the middle. Your leather boots went all the way up your thigh leaving a sliver of skin. It was simple but effective, though Butcher thought you could stand to show more skin. "I've decided. Congrats Nightcrawler, you've made the team." He flashed a dazzling smile showing off his pearly whites. "In fact let me give you a tour of the building, as the Seven's leader it's my job to show around the newbies." Ashley went to object, but her face was met with a large red gloved hand. "Come, Nightcrawler." He commanded. You scurried after him, the scent of his veins luring you closer. Homelander gestures behind him "So as you know back there was the team meeting room, we meet there every now and then to discuss missions, stats, new marketing promos etc." Moving his hand forward, towards the elevator "Each person on the team has their own suite, mine is up here, the biggest one, since I'm the leader." Okay seems like overcompensating but who knows. The two of you stepped into the luxurious surprisingly small space. The air was suffocating; you felt like he was planning something. The ding of elevator made you jump. "Ladies first." paired with that same fake smile. You nodded and walked forward and felt him pressed on your back hard. "Come on little lady, we have lots to see and do." You looked up at him towering over your frame. "Of course sir." As you followed after him you felt your throat run dry. Shit you didn't think this meeting would run so long. You tried to distract yourself with thoughts about anything, counting how many lights where on the wall or clawing your hand at your side. "Did you hear me? Are you even listening?" You could tell Homelander was yapping about something or boasting about his saves and was annoyed that you missed the whole speech. But your mouth was watering and your head was pounding. You looked up into his eyes, gazes met. Homelander furrowed his eyes. Earlier your eyes were a bright green and now they matched those of crimson rubies. You felt your fangs poke your mouth. "Sorry," you blinked rapidly to come back to your senses. "Well then...come on Ill show you your room." He swiftly turned, cape trailing behind him. You felt like you wouldn't last any longer, you needed to get into your stash. You had asked Ashley to fill your fridge with donated blood, all you had to do was wait Homelander out. "This is where you'll be staying." He swayed his arm across as if to say "You've probably never seen a place this nice before". The room was very...stereotypical of what was thought of as vampires. Black and red colors were splattered through the room, it looked as if you stepped into a victorian gothic home. "There better not be a fucking coffin in here." You whispered to yourself. Homelander chuckled at your comment. "Do you do much...sleeping?" He cocked his head to the bedroom, strolling in as if this was HIS place. You could feel your hunger surging, if he didn't get out in the next 2 minutes you where going to go crazy. Next thing you know Homeland is by yourside, hands on your shoulders. "You know, I think I know what might help you rela-" He was cut off when you spun around and jumped onto him, legs wrapped tightly around his mid section. One of your hands wrapped around his jaw, the other one holding his shoulder for balance. You bared your fang and bit. It was the sweetest blood you ever tasted. It was like a delicacy and you couldn't stop, hunger clouded your mind. You kept sucking, relishing the feeling on your tongue. Your legs and hands squeezed tighter as if it would keep the blood coming.

Homelander stiffened, what the actual fuck. Here he was trying to get in the new girl's pants but not she was sucking him off, and not in the way he intended to. But he was getting lightheaded and turned on. The feeling of your lips on his neck, core pressed so close to him. He let out a strangled moan. He felt himself stiffening, suit a little tighter than usual. Eventually satisfied you let go, lapping up any extra spills with your tongue. Realizing what had happened and what position you where in you looked at Homelander ready to apologize. He couldn't help himself and slammed his lips on yours. The feeling of you sucking his neck was euphoric. His hand grazed your side, gentle like a lover. Before grabbing your neck and holding your body out. You hand grabbed his to release the tension. "What the fuck was that." You flashed your fangs towards him. "I need blood to sustain myself. And you have the best kind." Your smile was bloody and sadistic. It opened something up in Homelander. It was what he needed. Someone like him, you wouldn't mind his bloodshed you'd probably embrace it. He liked that you thought his blood was the best. I mean of course it was the best he was the strongest person in the world. He brought you closer to him, letting you stand on the ground.

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"In that case. Continue." He stepped back slightly to undo the top of his suit and pulled it all the way down, letting his cock spring out for the bottom, slapping against his stomach. You were the worst double agent, but you were doing this for Annie, why not have some fun. You leaned against him, feeling him pressed on this stomach. You kissed his shoulder, opposite hand running down his chest. "So smell so good." His hand gripped your waist harder. You bit into his shoulder as he lifted you once more, legs going around his waist. His cock rubbed up against you, mouth moaning in your ear. You moved towards his neck again and bit the other side. Releasing your lips from his neck you pressed them against his, smothering the red liquid against him. He was such a passionate kisser, way better than any man you've ever dated. You broke the kiss only to shed your suit, blue eyes scanning every inch of your body. It was like you were the perfect specimen, not a flaw in sight, utterly beautiful. "I knew you'd be a great addition to the team." He said. You smirked in retaliation before sauntering to the bedroom. He followed, like a lost puppy and their owner. The bedroom was the same black and red color scheme, black silk sheets covered the bed, surrounded by dark wood furniture. There were red and white spider lily bouquets placed in vases throughout the room. There were way too many ornate vintage lamps. But the details didn't matter to you, not when Homelander was rubbing himself up and down your slit. He kissed your neck in a similar fashion as you, before slamming his hips against yours. There was no need to be soft, you two were the strongest in the world, and the sounds definitely proved it. The best rocked with each moment, the wood creaking from the pressure. He cried out loud as you bit his chest. His cock was pulsing as pushing in and out of you. He slammed into you again, the tension of the bed finally breaking and falling to the ground but that didn't stop him. Your pussy clenched around him. He grunted in your ear speeding up slightly before releasing his hot cum deep in you. He rolled off you and the two of you laid there panting filling the silence. You turned over to him with a smile, fang pushing out the bottom of your lips. "Again?"

[softhwl]

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 Quick Ride

(2k) | cw: age gap, fingering, riding, unprotected sex, dirty talk, clit play, praising

A few minutes passed and they were on the road, him driving and her sitting like he titled her his passenger princess. The lights from the nightlife in the streets lit her face, letting logan sneak in looks, analyzing her. 

"Its not safe to let an old man drive you home ya' know" he gruffed, keeping his eyes locked to the road.

"You saying I should be scared?"

"...No. Just seems like you dont care what happens. Reckless." he said lowly.  

"Right- I forgot older people love living the same day every day, my bad" she stiffeled a laugh.

He turned his attention back to the road, his grip tightening on the steering wheel as he navigated the busy city streets. It was late, but the nightlife was still in full swing, with people spilling out of bars and clubs onto the sidewalks.

"So, where exactly are we headed, princess?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly. "Got a place of your own, or are you crashing with friends tonight?"

He knew he probably shouldn't be asking such personal questions, but something about this girl drew him in. Maybe it was the way she challenged him, or the sparkle in her eye that hinted at hidden depths. Whatever it was, he found himself wanting to know more.

"Friends house...bachelors night" She raised her eyebrows with fake enthusiasm making him chuckle.

 "Not a fan of romance?"

"...I dont know, I like the idea of love, but it never satisfies me in reality, I always end up bored" she admitted. She felt foolish for confiding a random burst of personal truth to him but something drew her to him. 

"You?"  looking to him as he drove. She took the chance to analyze him more specifically. His features, his grip on the wheel, the subtle bulge that his pants formed.

Logan let out a low, rumbling chuckle at her admission, his eyes flickering over to meet hers for a brief moment before returning to the road ahead. "Love's a funny thing, ain't it? Never quite works out the way we want it to," he mused, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness.

He shifted in his seat, the leather creaking beneath him as he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. "As for me...let's just say I've had my fair share of heartbreak. Learned the hard way that it's easier to keep people at arm's length."

His gaze drifted to her lips for a fleeting second before he caught himself, clearing his throat awkwardly. "But hey, that's just me. Maybe you'll find someone who can keep up with you, give you what you need."

He pulled up to a red light, the glow of the streetlamps casting an eerie orange hue across her face. In that moment, he couldn't help but notice the way her dress hugged her curves, the soft swell of her breasts rising and falling with each breath.

Logan swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry as he tore his gaze away. "So, uh... which way to your friend's place?" he asked gruffly, trying to distract himself from the inappropriate thoughts creeping into his head.

"Just two blocks down to the right, it'll be the only house with the driveway lit up" she said softly, feeling slightly flustered. She noticed his stare, the unique glimmer in his eyes. She felt herself lick her lips subtly, suddenly having the returning feeling of longing. Her eyes trailed down to his hands on the steering wheel once again. Taboo thoughts filled her head, making her subconsciously clench her thighs.

Logan followed her directions, turning down the street and pulling up to the house she indicated. As he put the car in park, he couldn't help but notice the way her thighs clenched together, the movement drawing his eye to the creamy skin exposed by her short dress. He cleared his throat, trying to focus on the task at hand rather than the growing heat in his groin.

But as he looked at her, with her hair tousled and her eyes dark with some unspoken desire, he found himself wondering if maybe she wasn't quite ready for the night to end. And truth be told, neither was he. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his fingers grazing her cheek. 

"You keep looking at my hands..why?" he murmured, his voice low and husky. His hand dropped to her thigh, his touch searing even through the thin fabric of her dress, her breath hitching slightly.

"You usually go after older guys?" he mumbled gruffily, belittling her.

"...not usually" she said no louder than a whisper, nearly ashamed.

 "Tell me what you want to do now. We're here, the balls in your court" he said sternly. She watched as his fingers press soft circles on her inner thigh.

 "I-...I should get-" she tried.

Logan's hand slid further up her thigh, his touch firm and possessive. He could feel the heat of her skin through the thin fabric of her dress, and it sent a jolt of desire straight to his core.

"You should get inside, huh?" he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. "Or maybe you want to stay out here a little longer, princess. See where this leads."

His other hand came up to cup her jaw, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. She was so soft, so responsive to his touch. He could tell she wanted him, even if she was too shy to admit it.

"I can be rough, sweetheart," he warned, his hazel eyes boring into hers. "If you can't handle it, you better run along now."

But even as he said the words, he knew she wouldn't leave. There was a fire in her eyes, a hunger that matched his own. And he was more than happy to oblige.

Slowly, he leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over her ear. "Tell me what you want, pretty," he growled, nipping at her earlobe. "And maybe I'll give it to you."

She parted her lips slightly, in awe of his touch. "You" she softly swallowed.

Logan's eyes darkened with lust at her breathy response, a low growl rumbling in his chest. He could smell her arousal, sweet and heady, and it made his blood sing with primal need.

"That's what I like to hear, princess," he rasped, his hand sliding higher, his fingers brushing against the damp lace of her panties. "You want this old man to make you feel good, don't you?"

He pressed his thumb against her clit, rubbing slow, firm circles, relishing the way she gasped and squirmed beneath his touch. His other hand tangled in her hair, tugging her head back to expose the slender column of her throat.

"Such a mess for me already" he chuckled, his teeth grazing her pulse point. "Spread your legs a little wider" he ordered in a mumble. She acted quickly, spreading her legs shyly as she looked out at the window making sure no one was out on the street seeing her own pathetic acts. Her soft moans picked up as she began to fill the empty limo.

Logan's fingers delved beneath her panties, finding her slick and ready. He groaned at the feel of her, hot and wet against his calloused skin. "Fuck, you're soaked," he growled, sliding a finger inside her tight channel. She was so small, so tight, gripping him like a vice. He pumped his finger slowly, savoring the sound of her needy whimpers.

Logan's fingers delved deeper, curling to stroke that sensitive spot inside her. His thumb circled her clit, pressing down just enough to make her see stars."That's it, baby," he crooned, his voice low and rough with desire. "Let me hear how much you like it."

She was so responsive, so eager to please him. He could feel her walls fluttering around his fingers, could hear the hitch in her breath as he brought her closer to the edge.

But he wanted more. He wanted to taste her, to feel her come undone on him. With a final thrust of his fingers, he pulled them away, bringing them to his mouth to lick them clean.

"Mm, you taste so fucking good," he groaned, his eyes dark with hunger. "Now I want to see you come for me, princess. Touch yourself for me, nice and slow."

He sat back in his seat, watching her intently as she began to explore her own body. Her hands trembled slightly as she slid them beneath her skirt, her fingers seeking out her aching clit.

Logan licked his lips, his cock throbbing in his pants as he watched her pleasure herself. She was so beautiful like this, all flushed and needy.

"L-Lo" she whimpered, feeling herself hug her own hands with her thighs, coming undone at the distress she was in over him.

Logan's eyes darkened with lust as he watched her come undone, her body trembling with the force of her orgasm. He could see the way her skin flushed, the way her lips parted as she gasped for breath. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Slowly, he reached out and pulled her into his lap, his strong arms wrapping around her waist. He could feel the heat of her body through the thin fabric of her dress, and it made his cock throb with need.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful when you let go like that," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. "I want to make you feel even better, baby. Want to see you become a mess on my cock."

His hands slid down to grip her ass, squeezing the plump flesh as he ground his hips up against her core. She could feel how hard he was, how much he wanted her.

"You want that, don't you?" he growled, his teeth nipping at her earlobe. "Want me to fuck you right here in this limo, where anyone could see?"

He knew he was being reckless, knew he should take her inside and lock the door before they did anything else. But the thrill of possibly getting caught, of showing off his prize, was too tempting to resist.

"Beg for it, baby"

"Fuck me" she breathlessly begged. She rested her hands on his chest as he lifted her ass to hover his bulge while he unbuckled, swiftly pulling his erect length out.

Logan wasted no time, swiftly pulling her panties to the side and positioning himself at her entrance. He could feel her heat, her wetness, and it made his cock throb with anticipation.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned as he pushed inside, stretching her open around his thick length. She gasped at the intrusion, her walls clenching around him like a vice.

He set a brutal pace from the start, pounding into her with deep, powerful strokes. The limo rocked with the force of his thrusts, the leather seats creaking beneath them.

"Take it," he growled, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. "Fucking take my cock like you need it."

"Shit" she panted as he guided her up and down, her head slightly hitting the roof of the limo. "Right there- right there-" she moaned, softly smiling in ecstasy.

He achieved what no one else could, finding all the right spots for her. Logan smirked at her reaction, pleased that he could make her feel so good. He loved the way she clenched around him, the way her body responded to his every touch.

He changed his angle slightly, hitting that sweet spot inside her with every thrust. Her moans grew louder, more desperate, and it spurred him on.

"That's it, baby," he rasped, his voice strained with pleasure. "Moan for me. Let everyone know who's making you feel this good."

He could feel his own release building, his balls tightening as he neared the edge. But he wasn't about to let go just yet. He wanted to feel her come first, wanted to see her fall apart in his arms.

His hand slid between their bodies, finding her clit and rubbing it in firm, steady circles. He could feel her trembling, could hear the hitch in her breath as she teetered on the brink. Her back hit the steering wheel slightly as she arched for him, making the limo honk as he readjusted their position.

Logan grunted as he felt her body tense, her walls fluttering around his cock as she teetered on the edge of orgasm. He could see the desperation in her eyes, the way she clung to him like he was her lifeline.

With a final thrust, he sent her over, her body convulsing with the force of her release. She cried out, her voice echoing off the walls of the limo, and it was music to his ears.

He followed soon after, his own orgasm crashing over him like a tidal wave. He buried his face in her neck, muffling his groans as he spilled himself deep inside her.

For a long moment, they simply clung to each other, their bodies trembling with the aftershocks of their shared pleasure. Logan could feel the stickiness between their bodies, the evidence of their coupling, and it made him grin.

"Fuck, that was good," he rasped, pressing a kiss to her temple.

He knew he should let her go, should send her on her way before things got any more complicated. But he found himself reluctant to let her out of his sight, to lose the warmth of her body against his.

[aziraphales-library]

Hi! I've been saving all your rec lists for a while now, going through them slowly, and I wanted to say thank you for the wonderful work!

I also have a request: could you please rec fics that focus on pining Aziraphale, preferably from his pov? Or first kisses initiated by Aziraphale? However you wish to categorize it is fine. Any length works, but please no extreme AUs.

Thank you again <3

Hello. We have a #pining aziraphale tag you'll want to check out. Here are more to add...

It seems that I'm in love by Fan_Joy (G)

So apparently Aziraphale was in love. He was in love and he couldn't do anything about it. Or: A lot pining by Aziraphale + an unexpected love confession

Our Touch Through Time by oddityofstars (G)

Over the years, Aziraphale started to notice how lovely Crowley was, and how much he longed for him to be his. - Or, a realization over time through touch and small moments, Good Omens style.

Hold My Hand (and never let it go) by KannaOphelia (T)

Not much of their skin was touching, when he thought about it. The fabric of their sleeves, their trouser legs, holding them carefully apart, despite the strangeness of wearing each other's skin. But this point, this point of contact, was almost unbearably intimate, until Aziraphale could barely tell where he ended and Crowley began. One hour, forty minutes, and neither of them acknowledged the way sometimes one of their hands would tighten suddenly, and the other would squeeze in return. Once Crowley drew his thumb in soothing strokes across the back of Aziraphale's thumb, and neither of them mentioned it.

what if we could? by rocketshoes (T)

six thousand years since Aziraphale met Crowley. two thousand years since he began to fall in love. eighty years since he realized it. what happens when, after all that time, he realizes that maybe, just maybe, something could come of it?

Apple Jelly by HolRose (G)

Crowley and Aziraphale are retired in the South Downs and living as house mates. Aziraphale wants to declare his feelings, but is nervous after all that happened the morning before he went to Heaven. What if Crowley no longer feels the same? A planned afternoon of apple picking in their garden changes everything. A post Season 3 getting together fic, with apples and much softness.

through the tides by viperinz (T)

With that thought, Aziraphale takes to asking experts if his feelings are something more or just love for his dearest, most sweetest friend. If he wasn’t sure himself, then surely the experts on the internet will have something for him. Which brings him to the front of his computer, ready to search something up on the search engine he has pulled up. He’s not one to ask too many questions, but he supposes it won’t hurt. He starts typing, and is satisfied with his search of "Am I in love with my best friend?" Straight to the point, and very concise. Aziraphale has no doubt he’ll find what he’s looking for. He presses enter on the keyboard, and a bunch of results flood in. “Oh, dear,” he gasps at the mass amount of answers. Where is he supposed to start?

Aziraphale discovers the wonderful world of online love quizzes and WikiHow, all in the process of wooing and confessing his love to Crowley.

- Mod D

[carmyberzattosjournal]

Entry 21: A Crowbar Called Love

GIF Credit: @carmen-berzattos

Bearblr Promptober Day 21: Drunk Confession

Summary: Carmy's girlfriend (who he calls Darling) drunkenly confesses something that sends him into a tizzy; that she wants to have his kids.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of trauma, self-doubt, evolving Dad!Carmy, maybe the start of a breeding kink(?), fem reader/generic lass who is a trauma surgeon, she/her pronouns. (822 words)

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

Thank you for reading. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list. Sideblog for commentary and yapping: @m-z-shoroi

Also, if random letters or words are black/white instead of the colors they should be, that's Tumblr being dumb, I've been fighting it for days.

21 Oct 2024

She said she wants to have my babies, and I honestly don't know what in the fuck to do with myself.

How did I get here?

What the fuck did I do to earn that?

What?

How?

I'm a fucking disaster, why the fuck would anyone think I'd make a not-shitty dad?

And she said it in front of Richie and Nat. That asshole is never gonna let me hear the end of it. This is what I get for taking my eyes off the cider for five minutes. Richie probably didn’t even fucking measure before spiking it.

Fuck. My. Life.

I have no business having kids, I'm just gonna end up like ma! No! No! Abso-fucking-lutely not!

Okay, yes, they'd be cute, but this is a terrible idea!

I can’t stop fucking thinking about this. The adoration in her eyes, the way she whispered it into my mouth, the way she pulled my hair and repeated it—whined it—until my brain checked into reality in a confused state. Carmen, I wanna start a family with you. I love you so much. I want babies. Carmy… Carmy, please? Please, can we talk about kids?

It’s the next morning, and I woke up an hour before my alarm, invaded, besieged, strangled by thoughts of cradling her belly, of feeling little kicks against my palm through her soft, supple skin. The thought of baby shoes while I stared at my own, hand trembling as I dragged it through my hair and tried to recompress so I could make it through a workday. What was more was that I couldn’t stop fucking thinking about how wonderful of a mother she’d make. She’d be sweet, kind, understanding, protective, a great advocate, teacher, counselor. I thought of being home with a kid in my arms. Nat’s daughter is so precious, so innocent, so pure. I could have one. A few. And I could do better than ma or dad did.

I wanted to do better than ma and dad did.

I wandered back into the bedroom, leaned against the doorframe and just watched Darling snuggled up in bed, her face buried in my t-shirt, a cute little croissant under the covers. There existed in my mind, sometime before then—couldn’t figure out exactly when it changed—this looming understanding of this arrangement being temporary. This relationship was a ticking clock, a sword dangling over my head by a horsehair, and in all likelihood, I was going to fuck up, and she was going to leave. It seemed like an inevitability. But permanence, comfort, routine, it crept up on me. Could I imagine an existence without Darling? Did a future without her even exist? Did I allow myself to love her so completely, so deeply, that my forever was staked in the ground with her?

Two kids. And a dog. Our own house. It’d be nice if one of them liked cooking, but I wasn’t going to be upset if they wanted to try something else. I’d support them trying new things. I’d reduce my hours at The Bear, too, so I could be around to hug them and read them bedtime stories. My vision abruptly blurred. Droplet of warmth fell from my eyelashes and drew a streak down my face.

Of course, I was fucking crying again.

Ever love someone so much that it hurt? That the love embedded itself so deep into you that it burrowed roots in the same places that all your fucking trauma lived? That it crumbled and frayed the armor of bitterness, apathy, hatred, and anger you’d been using to hold yourself together against the assault of being alive and being so many things the world didn’t like—short, sensitive, warm, caring, quiet, shy? For your curly hair, for your features, for your weird fucking quirks and habits? The world stabbed you in the fucking kidneys for daring to exist, and you walled off yourself behind protective mechanisms to stop the knives going any deeper than they already had, from piercing the softest parts of you; and out of nowhere, this little thing called love shows up as a crowbar and jams under that armor with no ceremony and certainly no warning. It fucking hurts at first. It hurts like you can’t fucking believe or imagine, and it scares the shit out of you because if that armor comes off, you feel like you’ll die, but eventually? Eventually, the armor starts crumbling away, and you feel the saccharine mercy of love in all the places that the armor hurt. Yeah, you thought your trauma was the thing that inflicted agony all these years? Your fucking armor wore chasms in you all the same.

This wasn’t a contest, baby girl, but you win. I surrender. I love you. I love you so much that it hurts, and I can’t get enough of it. So, yeah. Yeah, we can talk about kids.

[maraschinomerry]

Meddling Git

Pairings: George Karim x gn!reader

Summary: When George connects with Arif's new shop assistant, Lockwood makes it his mission to make more opportunities for them to meet

Content: fluff, meddling Lockwood, insecurity about agent work, slight mention of blood

A/N: I'm back!! After an unintentional 7 month hiatus, I've finally been inspired to write again! I've also decided to switch from using (name) to y/n if anyone has any opinions on that. Thank you to everyone who shared anniversary/meet content for reminding me how much I love this fandom, and all my love to the multiverse of George chat for giving me so much inspiration and encouragement 💛

Word count: 4k exactly!

Taglist: @neewtmas @marinalor @ettadear @honey-with-tea @mischiefmanaged71 and also tagging @bobbys-not-that-small @bella-rose29 @oblivious-idiot @uku-lelevillain @lewkwoodnco

Lockwood, Lucy and George marched proudly towards Arif's. They'd completed another house call and been tipped generously by the owner, so Lockwood had promised to treat the team to breakfast. Of course, with the first rays of the morning only just beginning to peek through the clouds, there weren't any cafes open yet.

“I'll cook,” George offered, “as long as you buy the ingredients…”

“Of course.”

“...and those strawberry cream doughnuts.”

“Fine,” Lockwood rolled his eyes dramatically. Lucy grinned.

The bell above the door rang out lightly. Only agents would be around at this hour, and Lockwood & Co was the only agency who ever came to Arif's. In fact, their presence was so regular that the boy who worked the morning shift, Max, would greet them before they even came into view. Today, however, the shop remained silent.

“Morning, Max!” Lockwood called over a shelf when the quiet lasted a moment too long. “I don't suppose you have any of the strawb-” He hesitated as the group rounded the corner and finally came into view of the counter.

—

You frowned a little to yourself at the gentle chime of the bell. Surely there wouldn't be anybody about this early? Though you couldn't see the front door from behind the counter (a bit of a security flaw, you reckoned) there was a small window to your left which showed only the slightest hint of sunlight. Then again, Arif had mentioned a group of agents that would come by often. You weren't aware there was a local agency, but you were so new to both the area and the job that you didn't like to question it. The bell had been followed by overlapping footsteps and more than one hushed voice. Maybe this was them.

“Morning, Max!” one of the voices suddenly spoke up, a little deeper than you expected but unmistakably that of a boy and not a man. The footsteps drew closer. “I don't suppose you have any of the strawb-” At last the owner of the voice appeared from behind a shelf. The words stuttered to a stop, as did the movements of the tall boy in the black overcoat. Behind him, a girl in a blue jumper almost ran into him with the sudden pause.

“You're not Max,” she stated bluntly.

“No, I'm not.”

“Is he…?”

“Moved back to Cornwall with his parents,” you reassured her. You knew what it was like, wondering whether someone's absence meant the Problem had claimed another victim. “I'm y/n.”

“Well,” the boy cut back in with a charming smile, “morning, y/n. I'm Lockwood, this is Lucy, and George is around somewhere. As I was saying, do you happen to have any of those strawberry cream doughnuts?”

You returned his smile with one of your own as you fetched a square box from the chilled cabinet. “You're in luck, but I suppose you'll have to fight over who gets the fourth.”

“We won't,” another boy piped up from the far corner of the shop - George, you assumed. “If I'm making breakfast, I'm calling dibs.” Lucy giggled and you felt yourself suppressing one of your own.

“You'll have to forgive George, he's-” Lockwood began.

“No, no, he's got a point.”

“Finally, somebody gets it!” George's voice sounded triumphant, and much closer than before. After a beat, he arrived and you were able to put a face to the voice.

George was taller than Lucy but a little shorter than Lockwood, with dark curly hair and round glasses. Under his jacket was a vibrantly orange T-shirt, and in his arms he cradled a carton of eggs and a few different vegetables. He shuffled closer, attempting to place the produce on the counter without dropping the eggs but having trapped his hand in too awkward a position to keep a good hold of them.

“Let me,” you found yourself leaning over the counter, your fingers brushing the crook of his elbow as you rescued the carton and set it down gently. The boy blinked at you in surprise before quickly recovering and placing down the bulb of garlic he was holding. “What are you making?”

“Gojeh farangi, a sort of omelette.”

“Sounds good.” You handed him the ingredients, now bagged, and slid the box of doughnuts towards him as well. Lockwood stepped forwards with a handful of cash, and George shrunk back.

“It's been a pleasure meeting you, y/n,” Lockwood gave you another of those smiles. You got the sense he was the head of the team, the diplomat, the charisma. “No doubt we'll see you again.”

“Nice to meet you all too. I'll be here most mornings, in case you want to beat the regular crowd to the good doughnuts.” Without realising, you found yourself directing the latter part to the other boy, and you could have sworn you saw a flush tint his cheeks as he gave a slight smile and a nod of acknowledgement. What you didn't see was the glance exchanged by the other two.

—

The trio were back at Portland Row, the kitchen filled with the smell of fresh tomatoes and the glow of a job well done.

“Y/n seemed nice,” Lucy remarked as casually as possible.

“Mm,” Lockwood agreed into his cup of tea. “What did you think, George?”

They turned their attention quite unsubtly to their friend at the oven. He stayed with his back to them, and they couldn't be sure it was just because he was focused on breakfast, as he shrugged. “Suppose so. Didn't get much chance to judge.” He turned at last, not making eye contact as he slid two plates across the table.

“Ah well,” Lockwood continued after thanking George, who had turned away to collect his own plate, and he took the opportunity to throw Lucy a conspiratorial wink. “Plenty of time for that.”

Lucy almost choked on her mouthful.

The next day, George was halfway down the main stairs on the way to the training room when Lockwood poked his head out of his room. His hair was dishevelled, the collar of his shirt was wide open and his tie was hanging loosely around his neck.

“Ah, George! Do me a favour and run down to Arif's? We're out of detergent.”

“Why can't you go?”

“I've got that meeting with Mrs Pemberley to go over the details of the case and I'm running late as it is.”

“And Lucy-”

“Has gone to see Barnes.”

“Right.”

George held the door open for an elderly man just leaving the shop before slipping inside. He made his way to the detergent, stopping for a packet of chocolate digestives. Seeing you at the counter made him falter a little. You'd said you worked mornings, but it was almost lunchtime and he thought someone might have taken over by now.

“Oh, hello,” you greeted him cheerily. “Didn't hear you come in. George, right? Are your friends with you?”

“Just me,” George huffed. You picked up on the huff and wondered whether he was just having a bad day. From the small interaction you'd had yesterday, he seemed to get on well with his fellow agents and his annoyance was playfully exaggerated. Was it too soon to play along? You'd only met him yesterday. Then again, it was ordinary enough for shop workers to make conversation with the customers, and you wanted to at least try and make an effort at this new job.

“One of those days?” you prompted.

“Tell me about it.” The response was dry but not sarcastic, and you got the sense that he would have opened up more if he knew you better.

“Surely these will help,” you held up the biscuits as you passed them back to him, which earned you a slight smile. That was all you got, however, as he paid and walked away with only a muttered thanks. For some reason, you found yourself fishing for a way to make him stay and talk more. There weren't many people your age who came by while you were on shift (not many people at all, to be honest), as most of them worked the night shifts and barely went out and about until later in the afternoon. You just wanted someone, anyone, to talk to, and he was right there and getting further away by the second. Plus, you couldn't deny you were intrigued.

“Can I ask you something?” you blurted.

The boy turned, curiosity colouring his gaze. For a moment, you thought he'd still leave, but he came towards you and placed the detergent bottle back on the counter with a thud. You continued, “Which agency do you all work for? I noticed your rapiers yesterday, and Arif mentioned you being in the area, but I wasn't sure where."

George brightened. “We're Lockwood & Co, on Portland Row.”

—

A few more days passed, and the longer it went on the more George was unable to stop thinking about the new shop assistant. There was something about their question - most people didn't pay much notice to off-duty agents, much less care about which agency they were from. Sure, Arif had mentioned or warned them about Lockwood & Co, so perhaps it was just polite conversation, but they'd seemed genuinely invested in the answer. And with the shop opening in the early hours specifically for agents, it often took someone with Talent of their own to be brave enough to be out so early. Maybe…

His thoughts were interrupted by Lucy wandering into the study. She flopped into the armchair opposite, trying not to pay too much attention when George peered at her over the top of his book.

“Everything okay?” he asked. It wasn't often Lucy joined him for research.

“Lockwood's going to buy food so I thought I'd come and hang out with you. Don't mind me,” she shrugged. George took that rather literally, turning his attention back to the book on his lap. In the distance, they heard the front door open and close again, marking Lockwood's exit.

Lucy spoke again. “Oh, I almost forgot! He said we're out of cornflour but can he just use baking powder instead?”

George's eyes widened, and Lucy heard him mutter something particularly cutting as he dropped his book onto the arm of the chair and darted from the room. Moments later, the front door sounded again.

Lockwood turned in his stride and met George with a sharp grin, almost like he was expecting the other boy to come after him.

“I take it we do need cornflour, then?”

“You're such an idiot.” George fell into step beside him, and the two walked quietly for a while. George wondered whether it was worth going back to the house at all after this or whether to carry on to the Archives; it was early enough in the day that they might not be full yet. At least it would mean not being a part of whatever scheme his friend seemed to be cooking up.

—

You were greeted by Lockwood remarkably quickly after the bell alerted you to his presence, but he barely got a word in before you apologised, explaining that you hadn't meant to be rude when you first met, you just didn't know the agency to put his name to it.

“It was only when George explained-”

Almost as if you'd summoned him, the curly-haired boy stepped into view and gave you a small nod.

Lockwood's grinned, wider than before. “You didn't tell me you'd been chatting to y/n, mate.” He turned his attention back to you. “You must have quite the impact if you're getting more out of him than I am.”

A glowing warmth spread through your cheeks, and instinctively your eyes flew to George, whose expression reflected your own. The other boy glanced between you both with delight. “I suppose so,” you mumbled. “I was just curious because-”

“You have Talent.” It was George who had spoken, and he moved forward with his gaze levelled on yours. The words were spoken not as a question or a statement, more like a realisation. It struck you that behind the unassuming first impression the boy gave off was a quiet but brilliant intelligence for him to have figured you out so quickly. Very few people ever figured you out at all, especially not about your Talent.

“How did you know?”

George seemed to suddenly realise how close he'd come, practically leaning over the counter to study you; he pulled away and dragged his gaze to his shoes. “Educated guess.”

Lockwood, on the other hand, was having none of it, eyeing you up mischievously. “Don't be so modest,” he elbowed his friend in the ribs. You tried very hard not to fixate on the way the movement tightened his shirt across his chest and waist. “He's not our researcher for nothing, he's a genius.”

George sighed, but his head lifted with a burst of confidence. “I figured you must to feel safe working here before dawn, I just wasn't sure why you're not an agent. Oh, and the iron cross above the counter is new.”

There wasn't a single other person this week who'd noticed the cross you installed on your first day. This boy was really something.

“Wow,” you breathed subconsciously. George's cheeks reddened; this time he was definitely blushing. As for why you weren't an agent, what were you supposed to say? That you were less scared of the Visitors than you were of never finding your place within a team or worse, finding the right people but then losing them? How could you possibly explain that to him? So you didn't, and after a few more pleasantries Lockwood headed for the door. George threw you a backwards glance and a small wave, and the butterflies that had appeared in your stomach waved back.

Lockwood was positively beaming as they stepped out into the midday sun. Golden rays danced across his face, the air was mild, a soft breeze ruffled through his coat. It was all far too cheerful.

“What's got into you?” George frowned. “I haven't seen you this happy since we watched Kipps fall over his own rapier.”

“Am I not allowed to be happy?” Lockwood feigned outrage, clutching his chest. “And it's you that I'm happy for!”

George stopped. “What?”

“Come on, I've known you long enough to see there's something between you and y/n. Why don't you ask them out?”

“It's not like that! We've only spoken a couple of times, I don't know them well enough for anything like that.”

“If you say so…”

—

God, Lockwood was insufferable. He'd abandoned all subtlety, and it was driving George up the wall.

The smell of strong black coffee drifted up the stairs as George drifted down them. Lockwood had booked a big case for that night with absolutely no background information, so he'd spent the whole night on initial research. Hopefully caffeine would keep him awake long enough to get through the day.

Lucy was standing by the toaster, wielding a butter knife and humming to herself. George slumped into his usual chair with a groan.

“Coffee? Toast?” she offered.

“Please.”

“Sorry,” Lockwood appeared from the basement. “That's the last of the bread, you'll need to pick up more while you're out today.”

“You're joking,” George looked up. “There's still three slices in the bag there.” This was the third time this week he'd pulled something like this. The first was ‘accidentally’ stepping on an entire packet of biscuits. The second was announcing the milk was off, pouring it down the drain before anyone could check with enough force that it splashed back and went all over his trousers. And now this.

Lucy opened her mouth to respond, but Lockwood was faster. Before anyone could react, he pulled out the remaining slices, folded them all in half and took a massive bite. When he unfolded them, it left a gaping hole down the middle of all three slices, which he held up and peeked through triumphantly.

“You're ridiculous,” George scowled.

“ ‘m miwwian’” Lockwood mumbled around the wad of bread in his mouth.

George wanted to put his foot down. He didn't want to let Lockwood win. He knew he'd be so smug about it. But he also knew that every time he was sent to Arif's he stayed a little longer, talked a little more, watched you smile a little brighter. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he'd started looking forward to being sent out for things.

“Oh hey, Georgie!” Your face lit up when he entered the shop, and he smiled back. You weren't sure when you'd started calling him Georgie, he'd been here so often it was hard to tell which day was which any more. Not that you were complaining - he was easy to talk to, more interested in your Talent than anyone else had been, understanding when you'd finally explained your concerns about becoming an agent, and undeniably cute on top of all that. “What do you need today?”

“A boss who's not a meddling git,” he scowled dramatically, “...and milk.”

“I can only help with the second one,” you teased as you made your way out to the shop floor. Speaking to him from behind a counter felt so impersonal now, so you'd taken to wandering round the shop with him. You really hoped he didn't think you were overstepping or anything. As far as you knew, he thought of you as just the shop assistant, nothing more. You hoped it was more than that, could be more at least.

Another customer came and went, and George was still there, enraptured by your opinions on the Problem. He'd taken up a stance leaning against the shelves, one hand tucked into his pocket and looking the most relaxed you'd seen him since that first time he came into the shop. A light smile played across his face as he watched you hop onto the counter, not breaking your train of thought at all.

“I should get on before my shift finishes,” you sighed eventually. George immediately stepped forward and offered his hand to help you climb back down. His skin was warm and slightly calloused. You stumbled a little as you hit the ground and his other hand flew to your elbow, eyes scanning yours in concern.

“Thanks,” you murmured, painfully aware of how close you were. You'd put your hand out to steady yourself; it was clutching at the soft fabric of his orange plaid shirt. His eyes met yours once more and you both hastily pulled away.

“I'd better get back,” he cleared his throat.

“To the meddling git?”

He chuckled, a low sound which rumbled pleasantly in his chest. “Exactly. We're, um, we're out on another case tonight, but I'll see you soon, okay?”

“I hope so,” you replied, hoping he knew you didn't just mean because he made it back safely. “We'll have those doughnuts you like again tomorrow, if you're back in time.”

“I'll definitely be here for that,” he grinned.

—

It had been a hell of a night. The man who hired them had tried to bolster his ego by downplaying how intense the Visitors were. ‘A couple of Type 1s’ had turned out to be three particularly vicious Type 2s and it had taken until dawn to neutralise all the sources. The team emerged into the dewy morning covered in dust, rubble and, in George's case, blood. He'd taken a piece of debris to the face and, while it wasn't a serious injury, it had left him with a small cut which throbbed when he spoke. They were quite far from home too, and it was almost midday before they made it back to Portland Row.

George flopped onto a sofa in the living room as soon as they were through the door, while Lucy fetched the first aid kit. She sat down next to him, clicking open the case, and her face paled even more than it had with the exhaustion.

“We're out of antiseptic.”

“Lockwood,” George glared at his friend. He really wasn't in the mood.

“This isn't me this time! Look, you stay here and rest, I'll go and get more. Anything else we need?”

George pushed himself up to his feet. At least venting to you might make him feel better, and you had promised him doughnuts. “It's fine, I'll go.” Lockwood glanced at Lucy, taken aback by his insistence. He'd only been teasing George about going to see you, he never expected it to actually work.

“Please tell me you've still got those doughnuts, y/n,” George groaned as he pushed open the door to Arif's.

“Sorry,” came the reply from a voice distinctly unlike yours, as Arif glanced up from the shelf he was reorganising. “They took the last box at the end of their shift, maybe ten minutes ago.”

The last glimmer of hope that George had harboured fizzled out in his chest. Of course there was going to be no silver lining to the day. He was tired, he was hurt, and he didn't even get the doughnuts he'd been holding out for. Worse than that, though, he finally admitted to himself (and practically to his friends too) that he wanted to see you, that he liked you, and for what? Of course you weren't, you'd finished work and why on earth would you stick around just in case he showed up? It was unreasonable, he knew, but he couldn't help but feel disappointed. He'd have to wait until tomorrow, when he'd recovered a bit and could have a proper chat to you about everything. Ranting with Lockwood and Lucy was alright - they'd been there, they knew what he went through - but you were so gentle and understanding with him every time that he was desperate to hear your thoughts.

A figure on the steps of 35 Portland Row made George stop in his tracks. A new client, perhaps. Nothing unusual there.

The figure turned.

“Georgie?”

His face split into a grin the instant he recognised you. You'd changed out of your plain uniform into more casual clothes. The vibrant colours made you look almost radiant.

“Y/n, what are you doing here?”

You shuffled awkwardly on the step, suddenly aware of just how much of a risk you were about to take.

“When you didn't show up this morning… well, I was worried about you on the case. And I know I said I was scared of becoming an agent in case I made friends with my team and then lost them, but I realised I could just as easily lose you like this and I'd never get to really know…” George watched you in awe, silently gravitating closer with every breath. Your own breath was trembling, the sound of it echoing from your chest up to your ears. Finally, he was close enough that you noticed the stark red line on his cheek. “Oh my god, you're hurt.” Just imagining him in pain sent ice through your veins.

“I'm okay,” he assured you gently. “Just a scratch. I've just been to Arif's for antiseptic and…” he looked almost as nervous to speak as you, “I missed seeing you.”

You wanted to reach out to him, to take his hand or hug him close, but instead you held up the box you'd forgotten you were holding. “Me too. I brought those doughnuts just in case, figured you might need the extra one.”

His expression softened. “It's not an extra if you're here. I mean, if you want? You could come in and we can share them with the rest of the team.” Team. He gave you a look that showed he meant the implication behind it. You were one of them now, if you wanted to be. With a smile, you wound the fingers of your free hand into his and allowed him to lead you into the house.

[inkspiredwriting]

Meet the In-Laws

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

The time had come, and as much as Five tried to maintain his usual stoic demeanor, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of anxiety. Y/N, sensing his unease, gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"They're going to love you," she said with a warm smile. "Just be yourself."

"Right," Five muttered, straightening his tie. "Be myself."

They arrived at Y/N's family home, a charming house with a perfectly manicured lawn and a welcoming front porch. The door opened before they could even ring the bell, and Y/N's mother, Susan, greeted them with open arms.

"Y/N! It's so good to see you!" Susan exclaimed, hugging her daughter tightly. She then turned to Five, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "And you must be Five. We've heard so much about you."

Five extended his hand, giving her a polite smile. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Thompson."

"Oh, call me Susan," she said, waving off the formality. "Come in, come in!"

They stepped inside, and Five was immediately introduced to the rest of the family: Y/N's father, Robert, her younger brother, Mark, and her older sister, Emily. The room was filled with warmth and the smell of a home-cooked meal.

"So, Five," Robert began as they settled into the living room. "Y/N tells us you have quite an interesting background."

Five glanced at Y/N, who gave him an encouraging nod. "You could say that," he replied, trying to keep his explanation simple. "I've had some...unique experiences."

"Unique? That's an understatement," Y/N interjected with a laugh. "Five here has traveled through time and saved the world more times than I can count."

The family chuckled, but Five noticed the curious glances being exchanged. He decided to steer the conversation to safer ground. "So, what do you do, Mr. Thompson?"

Robert launched into a story about his career, and the conversation flowed more easily. Five found himself relaxing a bit, the initial tension easing as he got to know Y/N's family.

Dinner was an elaborate affair, with Susan going all out to impress their guest. The table was laden with delicious dishes, and Five couldn't help but appreciate the effort. They all gathered around, and as the meal progressed, the questions continued.

"So, Five," Emily said, leaning forward with a grin. "What's the craziest thing you've ever done?"

Five paused, thinking of the myriad of wild experiences he'd had. "Well, there was that time I fought a squad of armed agents while trying to stop an apocalypse," he said casually, causing the family to erupt in laughter.

As the evening went on, Five found himself genuinely enjoying the company of Y/N's family. They were warm, welcoming, and had a great sense of humor. He could see where Y/N got her kindness and strength from.

After dinner, as they sat around the living room with coffee and dessert, Susan leaned over to Five. "You know, we've always worried about Y/N finding someone who could keep up with her. But I think you've proven you're more than up to the task."

Five smiled, feeling a swell of gratitude. "I'm very lucky to have her."

Y/N beamed at him, squeezing his hand. "And I'm lucky to have you."

Just then, Mark, who had been mostly quiet throughout the evening, spoke up. "So, Five, do you think you could teach me some of those time-traveling tricks?"

Five laughed, shaking his head. "It's a bit more complicated than it sounds, but maybe I could show you a thing or two."

The night drew to a close, and as they prepared to leave, Susan hugged Five warmly. "You're part of the family now, Five. Don't be a stranger."

"Thank you, Susan," Five said sincerely. "I'll definitely be back."

As they walked back to the car, Y/N looked up at Five, her eyes shining. "See? That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Five wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "No, it wasn't. Your family is wonderful."

Y/N smiled, resting her head against his shoulder. "I'm glad you think so. They really do like you."

Five kissed the top of her head, feeling a deep sense of contentment. "And I really like them. But most of all, I love you."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes filled with love. "I love you too, Five."

As they drove away, Five couldn't help but feel that he had gained more than just a family that night. He had found a home, a place where he truly belonged, with the woman he loved by his side.

[rosanna-writer]

Out of the Woods (1/3)

An AU that diverges from canon after Rhysand leaves a head spiked in the garden. Aware of the unsnapped mating bond and unwilling to get between another High Lord and his mate, Tamlin hands Feyre over to Rhysand. Panicked, shocked, and desperate, Rhys scrambles to gain Feyre’s trust, find her a hiding place, and cover his tracks before returning Under the Mountain. And then learns the hard way that Feyre Archeron can never leave well enough alone.

A huge thank you to @amnevitahwritesstuff for the beta read and encouragement, and to @thesistersarcheron for dropping a casual "huh I wonder what would have happened if Tamlin knew Feyre was Rhys's mate the whole time?" in my comments section like a year ago. And a happy @officialfeysandweek to everyone!

Some text is lifted directly from both A Court of Thorns and Roses and A Court of Mist and Fury, and just a note that I've chosen not to use warnings for this fic.

Read the first chapter Here on AO3 or under the cut.

We'd been speaking of the blight, and Tamlin shot to his feet so quickly that for a moment, I thought I might have summoned it. His claws gleamed in the midday light as he snarled at the open doorway, canines elongating.

The house, usually so full of busy footsteps and servants chattering and so much life had gone silent.

The way the forest did when a raptor passed overhead.

And like a field mouse, I wanted to scurry under the table and tremble until it was safe to emerge. Or just start running and hope for the best. Lucien swore and drew his sword.

“Stand down,” Tamlin growled, all command. The voice of the High Lord. “He’s here to collect what’s his, and we will not stop him.”

“You can’t be serious,” Lucien hissed. “We’re not really going to—”

“No one will ally with us if we try to stop him. You know the laws.”

Lucien sheathed his sword, even as the baldric of long, serrated blades appeared from thin air across Tamlin’s chest. I snatched one of the knives from the table, and neither one of them made any attempt to stop me.

Perhaps because a measly steak knife would do no good against whoever was coming. Someone awful enough to frighten them, even as Tamlin slouched in his seat and picked at his nails in a vain attempt at looking unaffected.

They hadn’t been like this with the Attor. Or the naga or the Suriel or the Bogge. My grip tightened around the knife.

Footsteps sounded from the hall. Even, strolling, casual.

Tamlin continued cleaning his nails, and Lucien sat down, tension radiating off his body. He’d curled his hands into fists and bent his knees like he was ready to fight or flee a moment’s notice.

The footsteps grew louder—the scuff of boots on marble tiles.

And then he appeared.

No mask. He, like the Attor, belonged to something else. Some one else.

And worse…I’d met him before. He’d saved me from those three faeries on Fire Night.

With steps that were too graceful, too feline, he approached the dining table and stopped a few yards from the High Lord. He was exactly as I remembered him, with his fine, rich clothing cloaked in tendrils of night: an ebony tunic brocaded with gold and silver, dark pants, and black boots that went to his knees. I’d never dared to paint him—and now knew I would never have the nerve to.

He stopped in the doorway and stared and stared at me. For a moment, I could’ve sworn pure shock flashed across his features, but the look he leveled at me was pure predator. As if I were nothing more than prey to him.

“I remember you. It seems you ignored my warning to stay out of trouble,” he purred, like a cat playing with its dinner. He turned to Tamlin. “Who’s your guest?”

“Feyre Archeron,” Tamlin said. He said my name with a heavy finality, like a judge delivering a death sentence.

“Did you really just give that— that bastard her name? Lucien cried.

“Names have power. It’s Rhysand’s right,” Tamlin said.

I braced myself for an attack—slashing talons, snarling and growling. But Rhysand just laughed—a lover’s laugh, low and soft and intimate. A shiver skittered down my spine.

“A bastard? Is that really something you ought to call a High Lord of Prythian?” he said.

My heart stopped dead. This High Lord, with darkness rippling from him and violet eyes that burned like stars, could only belong to one place.

The High Lord of the Night Court had come to Spring.

With the hand that wasn’t holding the knife, I gripped the table as my knees threatened to buckle under me. Rhysand’s eyes slid to me, and his perfectly shaped lips twitched for just a moment.

But Lucien was undeterred. “This isn’t the Night Court—you have no power here. So scurry back to Amarantha’s bed where you belong.”

“Enough. If you can’t behave yourself, leave us, Lucien,” Tamlin said.

Lucien moved slowly, as if he were fighting the High Lord every step of the way. I’d never seen such anger smoldering in his expression. Rage and, if I wasn’t mistaken, a hint of betrayal.

But he obeyed. And cast one last apologetic look at me before the dining room door shut behind him. Something told me I’d just lost my only ally.

I tried not to tremble at the thought.

Tamlin turned back to Rhysand. “My apologies, High Lord. The Spring Court wants no quarrel with Night, and we won’t keep you from taking what’s rightfully yours.”

“She’ll be pleased to see the brutal war-band leader finally learned his manners. And just in time for you to join the rest of us.”

“I’m obeying the old laws, nothing more and nothing less,” Tamlin said tightly.

“Now?” Rhysand said, arching elegant, groomed brow. “They’ve been dead for centuries. I don’t see what would cause a change of that stone heart of yours after all this time.”

“What are you talking about? I burned them when— Oh, you wouldn’t know, would you?” Tamlin barked a humorless laugh, the harshest sound I’d ever heard him make.

Rhysand’s face became a mask of calm fury—terrible, fearsome, and heartbreakingly beautiful—as he stalked towards the High Lord of Spring. Tamlin raised his claws but made no other move to attack. I nearly ducked under the table to shield myself from whatever was coming, but I didn’t dare so much as breathe.

“Explain yourself.”

“I hardly believed it myself when Lucien told me he saw the mating bond—a High Lord and a human girl are far from equally matched. The clever magic of his mechanical eye doesn’t lie, but I thought it was a trick nonetheless. You and your mistress, forcing me into a war with the Night Court if I dared attempt to save my lands.”

I’d hoped they’d both forget I was there, but Rhysand turned and stared at me again. Really looked, as if he were searching for answers written in my eyes, my face, my body.

I raised the knife, though I knew he’d kill me long before I could bury it in his chest.

An invisible, talon-tipped hand pressed its way into my mind. I couldn’t move. Against my own volition, my muscles went taut, and the knife dropped from my hand and clattered against the floor.

One swipe of those mental claws and who I was would cease to exist. And I could feel them rooting around in my mind, flipping through my thoughts and memories like the pages of a book. Everything laid bare to him, no matter how private or personal.

I would have vomited if I had enough control over my body to do so.

“Leave, Rhys,” Tamlin said. “You can do this elsewhere.”

It wasn’t—I noted—a plea for Rhysand to release the magic binding me. No, Tamlin hadn’t lifted a finger. Perhaps I meant so little to him that he’d hand me over to appease a monster. Perhaps…he hadn’t cared, after all.

I would have whimpered at the thought if I’d had the freedom to draw breath. But even my heart only beat as Rhysand willed it.

“Tell me who she is,” Rhysand demanded, a slight frantic edge to his voice. The first crack in his cool demeanor.

“Feyre Archeron is your mate.”

The talons in my mind stilled but did not release their hold on me, and Rhysand’s eyes widened in pure shock. Tamlin grinned wolfishly.

Like he’d just delivered devastating news to his worst enemy.

I heard Rhysand’s voice inside my head, far softer and gentler than anything he’d said aloud. If I’d been able to move, the sound would have stopped my trembling.

Has he hurt you at all? You can be honest with me, love.

No. If anything, he’s protected me.

I felt a rush of relief—Rhysand’s relief, not my own. Whether he’d deliberately shared it with me or it had just traveled along some sort of connection between us, I couldn’t say.

Those invisible claws caressed my mind, then pulled out gingerly and vanished. My knees finally gave out, but Rhys moved with inhuman speed and caught me by the shoulders before I could sink all the way to the floor.

He hooked his other arm under my legs, cradling me against his chest. Too overwhelmed to fight, I merely tried not to sob or scream. Rhysand had seen everything—I hadn’t known it was possible to be violated so deeply in my own mind.

And yet, I had the strangest urge to bury my face in the crook of his neck.

“We’re finished here,” Rhysand said coldly. “Needless to say, if you breathe a word about her to Amarantha when we meet again, I’ll reduce your court to ash and skin your pelt for fur-lined mittens.”

He sounded like he’d go to war over me. I could barely understand it—faeries looked down on mortals, and a human girl should have been far below a High Lord’s notice.

But Tamlin had called me Rhysand’s mate. A bond so deep, it made even marriage seem insignificant in comparison, he’d once said. But plenty of husbands considered their wives little more than property—and I had no doubt Rhysand guarded his belongings jealously.

If I was no more than a thing to him, then perhaps I was a valuable one, at least.

“I have no desire to see Feyre harmed, either,” Tamlin said, though he didn’t even get up from his seat. “Take care of her.”

Rhysand inclined his head. “I’ll see you Under the Mountain.”

And with that, he carried me into the void between worlds, like a bride over a threshold.

***

We emerged in a wood. Somewhere I could feel in my bones was older—more aware—than anywhere in the Spring Court. The Night Court, perhaps. But I wondered if we’d left Prythian entirely.

“I’m sorry,” Rhysand said, before I could ask. “Fuck. I am, so so sorry.”

“Put me down. Please,” I said.

I’d almost expected him not to, but he did, moving slowly and bracing an arm behind my shoulders until I was steady on my feet. Then he stepped back and left a healthy distance between us.

His violet eyes had gone wide and wild. Desperate.

And yet…when he spoke again, his tone gentled, as if I were the feral creature that might bolt or lash out at any moment. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

I believed him. But nothing else made a lick of sense, and I’d never known a forest as quiet as the one where we stood. No birdsong, no distant breaking branches, no hum of insects. It set my teeth on edge.

“Then what do you want with me?”

“My first priority is keeping you alive. There is quite a lot you don’t understand and very little time to explain. So…may I?”

The invisible talons hovered at the edge of my mind but did not pierce it. Rhysand looked at me expectantly.

The silence between us stretched on and on. But those talons did not encroach any closer. I waited to feel them slashing through the very core of myself, but…they never did.

He was waiting for permission, I realized. It set me at ease just enough to say, “Alright.”

A party, somewhere underground. A throng of fae dripping in finery—jewels, elaborate clothes, displays of wealth and power. The crowd parted, and my eyes landed on a surprisingly plain, redheaded female.

Amarantha. The woman I’d come here to kill tonight.

I gasped, realizing it had been a memory. That he had been the one intent on killing Amarantha.

Gods, hadn’t Lucien said that was the woman whose bed Rhysand warmed?

“It’s a painful memory, but one you need to see,” Rhysand said.

There was a gentle pressure against my palms. Caught up in the vision, I hadn’t realized I’d reached out and clasped his hands, and he’d squeezed back. I didn’t let go; the touch was…grounding.

It was a wonder my hands didn’t shake with rage as I plucked a glass of wine from a try proffered by a passing servant. How unfair—how monstrously unfair—that she sat here tonight in a gown of glittering rubies smiling and surrounded by sycophants, thriving and unpunished after all the lives she’d ended. The human slaves she’d killed, the soldiers she’d tortured in an attempt to break me…they all deserved justice.

I couldn’t wait to see her brain leaking out her nose.

But her mental shields were damned difficult to tunnel through. I slunk to a corner of the room, grateful for once that no one wanted to come make small talk with the High Lord of the Night Court. Breaking her defenses would take all of my mental concentration.

I didn’t bother listening to the speech as a toast. It was probably some utter bullshit about ushering in a new era of peace. No, I just kept digging, desperate for a way in. But to avoid arousing suspicion, I lifted my glass along with everyone else.

I sipped my wine and realized my mistake the second the bitter taste hit my tongue. Poison. The well of power I drew from, a vast sea of magic, began to drain away.

In the last few seconds my power was wholly my own, I wiped memories, flung out shields, and cried desperate mental warnings to my friends to stay away. And then it was done. I’d become her slave.

The memory faded, and when I came back to myself, I realized my nails were digging into Rhysand’s hands. He didn’t seem to notice or mind—his violet eyes bored into mine with single-minded intensity. “She intends to help the King of Hybern tear down the Wall and invade the mortal realm. Now do you realize the danger you’re in?”

I nodded weakly. “She’ll kill my family.”

“It gets worse,” he said, and the next memory sucked me under like a riptide.

Another party, a masquerade this time. I sat at Amarantha’s right side, and the lingering scent of what we’d done together in bed still clung to me. She hadn’t let me bathe—had wanted the smell clinging to me, marking me like a brand.

I might as well have attended the revel with a sign around my neck declaring me her whore. And if it continued to keep my court and my family safe, I’d endure a thousand more humiliations.

But I wasn’t the one she was most interested in that night. Tamlin had been foolish enough to slap her hand away when she’d tried to touch him. He should have known how badly that would enrage her.

“I’d sooner touch a human—sooner marry a human—than ever touch you,” he said, the fool. “Even your own sister preferred Jurian’s company to yours.”

The crowd tittered at that—some in shock, others in excited anticipation of the coming bloodshed. By bringing up Clythia, Tamlin might as well have been digging his own grave.

“You’re lucky I'm in a generous mood,” Amarantha drawled. Dangerous words. “I’ll give you a chance to break the spell that binds your power to me.”

Tamlin, the idiot, spat in her face. She laughed.

“I’ll give you seven times seven years before you join the rest of us Under the Mountain, my dear Tamlin. If you want to break the spell before then, you’ll have to find a human girl to marry you. And not just any girl, one with ice in her heart, willing to kill a faerie. Maybe after sending your sentries across the wall like lambs to slaughter, you’ll learn your lesson. Your courtship can only begin after she’s murdered one of your men in an unprovoked attack, killing for hatred alone. Perhaps then, you’ll understand my grief for my sister, and you’ll change your mind.”

This time, as the memory faded, another one pulled me in immediately.

In the dream, I saw a hand. A beautiful, human hand painting flowers on a table. Such a simple thing, but whoever she was, she was living in relative safety if she was painting something entirely ornamental. Something beautiful.

There was still hope.

I tried pushing back an image—the night sky. Stars and the moon. It had been so long since I’d seen an open sky, but the thought of it had kept me going for nearly fifty years. I wasn’t sure the human would receive it, but…I had to try.

“There’s more,” Rhysand said aloud, as the talons in my mind retreated again, “but that’s the gist of it. There isn’t time for me to explain the details right now.”

I just gaped at him as I tried to process all of it. The girl with ice in her heart had been me. But so had the painter from his dreams. His mate.

No wonder Tamlin had thought it was a trick—he’d known I was another male’s mate. Winning me would save his lands…only to earn the ire of the wicked Night Court.

Lucien’s words came back to me. The Night Court, of course, manages to remain unscathed.

But that was all due to Rhysand’s sacrifices. I didn’t quite understand what it meant to be mates, but I had his loyalty. That might be enough to keep me alive. And I needed to get a warning to my family, a message to flee to the Continent before Amarantha made it below the Wall.

I straightened my spine. “What are you planning?”

“To fake your death. Enough people have seen you that I’m sure word of your existence will get to her eventually. When I go back Under the Mountain, I’ll say you fled for the Wall and were eaten by some creature before you could make it home.”

As sound a strategy as any, I supposed. He’d need evidence if it was going to work. My blood, perhaps. Locks of my hair, torn up clothes with my scent still clinging to them. Anything to fake a struggle.

“I don’t know what happened to the body that belonged to the head you left in the garden,” I said, reaching for the buttons at my collar, “but if you’re in need of a mangled corpse, a faerie bled out in the manor after Amarantha took his wings. Tamlin buried him nearby.”

I slipped off my tunic, leaving me in just my pants and the thin undershirt I wore beneath it. And despite the gruesome turn the conversation had taken, I watched Rhysand’s eyes trail down towards my chest, then very quickly back up to my face.

Pig.

Rhys laughed—a real one, I realized, not the affected one meant to intimidate that I’d heard in the dining room. It might have been the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. “Oh, most definitely. But you didn’t have to think it quite so loudly.”

I tossed the tunic at his face, and he caught it handily. In an elegant movement that spoke to refined manners, he folded it over his arm like a dinner jacket.

“If we’re faking my death, where am I to hide in the meantime?”

“Here, in the forest to the east of the sacred mountain Amarantha claimed as the seat of her court. Neutral territory. In this wood, there is no High Lord, and the law is made by who is strongest, meanest, most cunning. She does not dare touch these creatures or disturb this wood.”

If Amarantha wouldn’t set foot here, I shuddered to think what monsters lurked among these trees. Something far worse than the Bogge or the naga or even the Attor.

So much for thinking Rhysand wouldn’t throw me to the wolves.

“You won’t be entirely without help,” he said, sounding almost…affronted. If he had wings, they would have rustled. But he’d clearly been listening to my thoughts again, so I couldn’t help but scowl.

A tang of magic stung my nose. I shivered at the way the spell skittered along my skin, though there was something oddly familiar about it. Like I knew Rhys’s power.

I glanced down at my arm, which had become a blur of color, like I was made of half-mixed paint. When I tried to focus on a specific part—my fingers, my elbow—my attention merely bounced elsewhere. I’d seen something similar before.

“A glamour?” I guessed.

“The scraps of power at my disposal aren’t enough to completely glamour you, but you’re…camouflaged. Not entirely invisible, but the creatures here will pass you by as long as you don’t draw attention to yourself.”

I’d manage. Out of habit, I moved quietly through the woods anyway, intent on not scaring away any game. I knew how to keep myself hidden.

A pack appeared at my feet, laden with supplies. A small tent, some rope, a flint, a bedroll, a bandana, another set of clothes. The sort of things I would have killed for when I was hunting in the woods.

“There’s no knife—she limited my magic so I’m unable to summon weapons. And I can’t give you food, either. But this should be a start,” he said.

I picked up the pack and slung it over my shoulder. “Will I see you again?”

“I don’t know,” he said, face darkening. “She rarely lets any of us out from Under the Mountain. And give it a wide berth—get too close, and her sentries guarding the entrances will spot you.”

I’d be alone in the woods—besides the more fearsome creatures, it wasn’t all that different from my life below the Wall. And at least this time, there was only one mouth to feed.

“So is this…goodbye?” I said, hating the way my voice wavered.

“For now. If you stay in the forest, you’ll be close enough that I’ll be able to reach your mind. We can speak that way when I’m not…” He trailed off, but his wince and the memories he’d just shown me spoke volumes about whatever duties he carried out in Amarantha’s hellish court.

“And you’ll answer my questions?” There was so much I needed to know.

“I won’t keep secrets from you, especially not after rifling through your mind earlier. I’m sorry for the harm it caused.”

Something told me Rhysand didn’t apologize very often. That he’d bothered, with time running so short…

“Thank you,” I said with a nod. “You should go.”

My jacket was still folded over his arm. He lifted his other hand and started to reach towards me, then dropped it as if he’d thought better of it. His fingers curled into a fist at his side.

“I’ll find you again as soon as I can,” he said. It sounded like a vow.

His violet eyes held mine until he faded completely into mist. It was just me and the moss and gnarled trees and lichen. And somewhere…the unholy creatures that called this place home.

Day after day, I’d survived and kept my family alive by stepping into the trees and putting my feelings aside. Without even a sigh, I set off to find somewhere to camp.

[shelbystales]

Story Time - One Shot

Tommy Shelby x Reader - Masterlist

Word count: 1672

Summary: After a few days being absent in his familly, Tommy arrives late, once again. But to his surprise you and his son are still awake.

Warning: fluff, fluff and more fluff?

A/N: I could EASILY have turned this into a long SMUT, but hey... all my one shots are smut 😂. But if you guys want i can write a part 2.

Oh and please dont forget to comment and interact, tell me what you think! it means a looot to me.

English is my second language so I apologize in advance for the grammar mistakes

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Thomas Shelby trudged wearily through the dimly lit streets of Birmingham, his mind still reeling from the day's events. It had been a long and exhausting day, negotiating business deals, and handling the never-ending challenges that came with running the Peaky Blinders. 

The Peaky Blinders' operations had been especially intense lately, and the weight of responsibility rested heavily on his shoulders. All he wanted now was a moment of peace and a good glass of whisky.

As he finally reached his home, a beautiful Victorian house tucked away in a quiet corner of Small Heath, bought especially for you, he let out a sigh of relief.

The familiar sight of his residence offered a small respite from the chaos of the outside world. He pushed open the creaky front door, the familiar scent of his home enveloping him as he stepped inside.

The living room was dimly lit, the fire crackling in the hearth casting a warm glow over the room. Thomas made his way to the worn-out leather couch and sank into it with a grateful sigh. 

With a heavy sigh, he poured himself a glass of his favorite drink and took a sip, relishing the familiar burn that washed over him. The warmth of the alcohol began to soothe his frayed nerves, and he allowed himself a rare moment of relaxation.

As he closed his eyes, the sounds of his home enveloped him—the crackling of the fireplace, the ticking of the clock, and the distant creaking of the floorboards. But amidst the background noise, he heard something that brought a small smile to his face, a soft chuckle, unmistakably belonging to his son, Charles.

It was such a joyful and carefree sound that he hadn't heard in a while. He furrowed his brows, wondering why Charlie would be awake at this hour. 

Curiosity getting the better of him, Thomas set down his glass and followed the sound. He made his way through the hallway and stopped outside his son's bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and the flickering light from the hallway revealed a heartwarming scene.

There, on the bed tucked under the covers, was his son Charlie, just three years old, and you, his mother, playing with him. Charlie was giggling uncontrollably as you tickled him, a smile on your face that lit up the room. 

Thomas felt a softness in his heart, a tenderness he rarely allowed himself to feel amidst the harsh realities of his world.

"Well, look who it is," you said with a playful grin, noticing Thomas at the door. "Come join the fun, Tommy."

Thomas hesitated for a moment, his mind still clouded with the weight of his responsibilities. 

But something about the sight of you and his son together drew him in. He stepped into the room, his eyes locked on the scene before him.

He approached you with his usual confidence, but as he got closer, he found himself momentarily at a loss for words. 

You looked up, your eyes meeting his in a moment of unspoken understanding. It was as if you could see the pain and darkness that lay hidden behind his steely exterior.

"Seems like I've walked into a tickle battle. Why are you still awake little one?" he remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Aye, you have" you replied, giving him a knowing smile. "Charlie was missing his dad, weren't ya, love?"

The little boy nodded enthusiastically, his eyes shining with adoration as he looked up at his father.

Thomas moved to sit on the edge of the bed, the weariness in his bones momentarily forgotten. He reached out to ruffle Charlie's hair, earning another delighted giggle from the boy.

"I'm sorry, I've been busy all these days" Thomas said, his voice softened by genuine regret. "No need to apologize, Tommy," you said, laying a hand on his. "We know how much you have on your plate."

He sighed, his eyes never leaving the two of you. "It's not an excuse, though. Family should always come first."

"You're right," you said, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "And you're here now. You can help me put this one to sleep"

“I don’t want to sleep. I want to play with da!” Charlie cried, the crying giving away the little one's tiredness

“How about we play tomorrow, hm?” Tommy asked

“You won’t be here tomorrow,” Charlie spoke in a weeping voice.

You just sat there, with Charlie in your arms. Just watching.

Charlie just missed his dad, but Tommy was needed out there. You could see the pain in Tommy’s eyes, to be an absent parent was not in his plans. 

“How about I tell you a story?” Tommy asked “and tomorrow I can take you and your mom out, maybe we can go to that park you like, ey?” 

Charlie got agitated in your arms, happy with his dad's promise. But you feared he wouldn’t keep it, again. Making you go silent. 

Charlie got out from under the covers and crawled into his father's arms, who received him with a strong hug.

Thomas found himself immersed in the simple joy of being you both, a rare respite from the constant struggles of his life.

“Okay, now lie down" Tommy ordered, pulling the blanket back for Charlie to get inside.

"Lie down here too daddy" charlie called him

Impossible to resist his son’s request, Tommy kicked off his shoes and crawled under the covers, Charlie between the two of you.

"What book are you going to read?" charlie asked

"No books. the story is here" Tommy pointed to his head making Charlie smile “Once upon a time, in the green hills of Birmingham, there lived a magnificent horse named Midnight."

"Like cocoa?" Charlie asked, refering to the brown horse Tommy had bought. Cocoa wasn't his race name, but the one Charlie chose for him.

"No, this was no ordinary horse, my boy. Midnight had a coat as black as the night sky, if you looked close by, you could even se the stars. He was magical and he could run faster than the wind…” Tommy went on telling the story. 

As Thomas spun his tale, the room seemed to come alive with his words. He painted vivid pictures of the horse's daring escapades and heroic deeds, capturing his son's imagination with each passing moment.

You watched the scene unfold, your heart swelling with love for the two most important people in your life.

You marveled at how effortlessly Thomas could transport your son to another world with his storytelling, and you couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of admiration for her husband.

As the story reached its end Charlies's eyelids began to droop, his exhaustion finally catching up with him. 

Thomas leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to his son's forehead and you gently tucked the covers snugly around him.

Once Charlie was fast asleep, you and Thomas went back to the living room. The fire had died down, so you gave it life again, with a few woods and a single match. 

Thomas poured another glass of whisky, and you sat beside him on the couch, streching your legs across his lap.

"I never thought I could have this," Thomas admitted quietly, his gaze fixed on the dancing flames. "A family, a home... it was never part of the plan."

"But here we are," you said, taking his hand in yours. "Life has a way of surprising us, doesn't it?"

"Aye, it does," he murmured, his fingers entwining with yours. "And I wouldn't trade this for anything." he pulled your face gently for a kiss

"Where this is coming from? all this declaration of love for us?" you chuckled lightly "had a hard day?" you asked and he nodded

“Yes" He sighed "you were silent back there” tommy pointed out

“Well, good you noticed. I don't want you promising Charles things you can’t do,” you admitted. “We both know how it’s with you. You can’t stay away from work”

“I have a lot of work to get done, y/n” he said almost in a whisper

“I know. Just, please don’t lie to him. You’re his hero” you asked

“I never plan to” he sighed

“So you're taking him to the park tomorrow?” you asked and he nodded “good. you better, I can’t stand to look at the disappointment at his face again”

“What do you mean again?” he asked frowning

“Oh, come on Tommy. ‘i’ll be home dinner’, ‘i’ll pick you up at school’, ‘i”ll do this or i’ll do that’. you may not remember tiny promises, but he does. Everynight he asks if you are coming home before he sleeps” 

“every night?” he asked, sounding defeated

“Yeah, and even though i know the truth i say ‘i don’t know, maybe’” 

he went silent

You could see the guilt wash over Tommy's face, and you knew he was grappling with his own emotions. You didn't want to add to his burden, but you also couldn't bear to see Charles disappointed again.

"Tommy, I understand that you have a lot on your plate, i promise i do," you said gently, "but you need to make time for Charles. He's growing up so fast, and he needs his father in his life."

"I know, I know," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I just... I can't promise to be there all the time. It's not easy, y/n. You know what I do, what I'm involved in."

"I do know, Tommy," you replied softly. "And I know that your work is important, but so is your family. Charles needs you, and so do I. I also miss you. You come home after i am already sleeping and you leave before the sun comes out. I am getting abit tired of this loneliness"

Thomas took a deep breath, his gaze locked with yours. He could see the concern and love in your eyes, and it weighed heavily on his heart. He reached out to cup your cheek tenderly, his thumb caressing your skin.

"I'm sorry, love," he said sincerely "I can't promise you miracles, but i'll try to be home earlier".

You leaned into his touch, savoring the warmth of his hand on your cheek.

He gently kissed you. His lips slowly savoring yours. Tongue gently invading your mouth and sliding on your lips. 

“I love you y/n” He said resting his forehead on yours

“I love you too tommy” you smiled 

“Let me take care of you now, eh?” he smirked pushing you down to lay on the couch. 

“Yes please!” you said smiling in anticipation, making him chuckle as he lifted your nighgown.

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[cherrycola27]

false god

Series Warnings: Mythology!AU. Language, alcohol, drinking. Military inaccuracies. Mutual pining, unrequited love. Allusions to and full smut. Minors DNI. 18+. Individual chapter warnings will come as needed. Banner Credit @thedroneranger

Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

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Chapter 20: Right Where You Left Me

welcome home

Your brother's words rang in your ears, catching you off guard.

Home

Olympus

You were restored

But you weren't home. Olympus hadn't been your home in a long time—if ever.

Home was Earth. Home was a house in Coronado with your husband.

Home was Bradley.

You stood there, staring at Poseidon for a long while before taking a deep breath. "Si, this isn't my home." You tell him softly. "What do you mean? You're a Goddess. Olympus is your home." He questions you.

"This place may have been my home once, but not anymore. Not after everything—" You trail off, but your brother nods, knowing what you mean. He was the only one who took your side when everything happened with Persephone.

"My home is Earth now, with my husband." You tell him. "Husband?" Poseidon asks you.

"Yes, a mortal, his name is Bradley. He's the reason I'm here. There was an accident. I sacrificed myself to save him." You say, not wanting to tell much more.

"Does he make you happy, sister?" Poseidon speaks softly. "Happier than I have ever been." You smile. "Wonderful. I am happy for you." He smiles at you.

There is a beat of silence. "Well then, I would love for you to stay around, but I'm sure you want to go back to him. Promise to visit some, or I can come see you." Poseidon smiles.

"That would be wonderful, Si." You smile at him before hugging him. He hugs you back tightly before allowing you to take a step back.

You roll your shoulders back and touch your wedding rings. "Take me to Bradley." You whisper, waiting to be whisked back to him. Instead, electricity floods your body, jolting you with pain. You cry out and collapse. Poseidon runs to your side. "Sister? Sister, are you alright?" His voice heavy with concern as he helps you to your feet.

"Something is wrong. I can't, I can't travel. I can't feel Bradley." You stammer out.

"Your husband, are you tethered?" Poseidon asks you. "Yes, I checked, see?" You say waving your hand over your wedding rings, but instead of finding the golden string that once lived there, you find it dull and lifeless. It's been cut.

"Zeus." Your brother breathes out before you can. "He had Hera and Aphroditie cut your tether. He must have forced them because they would never do it willingly." He says. "I've always known our brother was wicked, but this—this is just cruel." Poseidon breathes out.

Your lip quivers as you look at the limp string tied around your finger as tears silently fall. But soon, the sadness morphs to something else.

Rage burns inside of you. Anger fills your senses as the centuries of animosity that you've choked back explode from you in a burst of white-hot flames as you scream.

Poseidon jumps back as the flames of hatred wrap around you, turning your white dress black with smoke and ash.

"Where is he?" You growl lowly. "Court, Zeus, is hold court today in the palace." Your brother stutters out, simultaneously terrified and in awestruck by you.

You nodded before vanishing in a flash. Moments later, you were in the middle of a white marble hall. Columns stood tall on either side of you. Flaming torches of gold lined the walls, lighting the way. Ornate carvings dripping in gold, silver, and precious stones adorned the high ceilings.

Beautiful busts, paintings, tapestries, and statues decorated the hallway. You didn't take time to stop and marvel at them as you marched by, though.

You were on a mission. Each step you took had a purpose. You quickly found your way to the Great Hall. The solid gold doors were manned by two sentries who drew back the moment they saw you.

"Open." You commanded. They nodded before each grasping a handle and pulling the doors wide. You could hear your idiotic brother speaking as the doors opened, but the moment you appeared in the doorway, silence fell over the hall.

"Zeus!" You yelled out as you charged at him, feet pounding on the cool stone.

"You! You bastard!" You shrieked as you launched yourself at him. You saw terror briefly flash across his face before two strong pairs of arms subdued you. You struggled as you turned to see Ares and Apollo holding you firmly.

"Hades! Sister! Welcome home! I am so thankful you have been restored!" Zeus taunted you.

"Do not vex me with your passive-aggressive words, Brother. You and I both know you don't want me here." You seethe.

"Sister, why do you say that? I mean, after you were restored, I had Hermes lift the charm that prevented you from traveling to Olympus." Zeus smirked as you still struggled.

"Yes, and then you made sure to have him create a new one so I couldn't go back to Earth, and you forced Hera and Aphroditie to cut my tether to my husband, you bastard." You gritted out.

"Hades, darling baby sister, you must understand why I did it. You've spent so much time on Earth. I thought it would be best if you spent some time here, at home. And as for your tether, you and I both know you can't be with a mortal. It compromises your loyalty to your family." Zeus says as he pats your cheek.

You cry out as you heat your body so hot that Ares and Apollo release you as they wince in pain from you burning them.

Zeus stumbles backward and calls for someone else to restrain you, but you produce the Soul Sword and everyone backs away.

You turn and see that Zeus has he bolt in his hand, ready to throw it at you. You stalk towards him.

"Loyalty? That's what this is about? Loyalty and family? Zeus, you wouldn't know the meaning of those words if someone slapped you in the face with them." You say.

"Where was family when Persephone falsely accused me? Where was loyalty when you imprisoned me in the Underworld? You act like you are doing me a favor by letting me come to Olympus when you are the reason I was banished in the first place! You flaunt there on your high horse acting like you have changed by giving me 'freedom,' but I am still trapped! I am still right where you left me all those years ago, trapped in my own personal hell that you created by taking away the one thing that I love!" You scream at Zeus. Through angry tears.

"Hades, please, calm down. I'm just trying to be a good brother and look out for for well being." Zeus says.

"You are not my brother. You're just some bastard keeping me from my husband. And mark my words, you will rue this day, because I will have my revenge. It will not be today, and it may not be tomorrow. But one day soon, I am going to burn you and Olympus to the ground and then dance upon its ashes." You threaten him before disappearing in a could of smoke.

Zeus lets out the breath he has been holding and lowered his bolt. The eyes of the other Gods and Goddess are all on him, none of them daring to speak until Hera breaks the silence.

"You stupid, stupid man. I told you that forcing Aphroditie and I to cut her tether would end badly, and Hermes warned you that taking her traveling away would have repercussions; but you didn't listen. Now all of us are going to have to suffer. I hope you're satisfied with yourself." Hera says before turning on her heels and walking away, the others following her.

................

The sound of pots and pans rattling in the kitchen downstairs alerted Bradley that it was time to get out of bed. He'd been up for hours, lying awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying your last moments over and over in his mind again. It had been two weeks since the accident.

Two weeks since he had seen your smile, felt your touch, kissed your lips. Two weeks since he cut those ropes and watched you fall into the waves below without a trace.

Maverick had been staying with him in one of the guest rooms, trying to keep Bradley from drinking himself to death while wallowing in his grief.

Today was a day Bradley had been dreading. This morning, he and Maverick were going to meet with Cyclone to officially declare what Bradley already knew, that you'd been killed in action.

Begrudgingly, he swung his legs over his side of the bed and stumbled into the bathroom. He needed to shave. The stubbly beard he now had was well out of regs, but helped hide the way his face had thinned out some as a result of him being too sick with grief to eat.

After a shower and a shave, Bradley pulled on his uniform. The khaki material that had once hugged his frame nicely now hung loose and limp due to his diet and lack of exercise.

After trudging down the stairs, Bradley was immediately greeted by Cerberus and Hydra. He pet both of them before walking to the coffee maker and poured a cup of the scalding liquid before taking a long sip.

"I made breakfast." Maverick said, breaking the silence. "M'not hungry." Bradley mumbled over his coffee mug. "You need to eat something. You can't sustain yourself on black coffee and whiskey. Remember what Hades made you promise her." Maverick said.

Bradley turned to face his uncle and snatched the plate of eggs and toast from his hand before sitting down at the breakfast nook. Sometimes Bradley hated that Maverick knew everything about you now. He didn't mean to tell him, but the first night back stateside, Bradley had come home and drank almost a full bottle of whiskey. Maverick had come over to check on him, and Bradley let everything spill out.

Every detail about your relationship and your true identity and how you sacrificed yourself for him and the promise you had Bradley make you. Maverick was taken aback at first, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense.

After breakfast, Maverick insisted on driving to base. He and Bradley climb into the beat-up red jeep Mav had purchased on a whim a few years ago and made the twenty or so minute drive to base. It was silent the whole way there.

Bradley was stoic as he sat in the chair across from Cyclone and some other officers as they gave him the official declination of your death along with their deepest condolences.

After the meeting, he was flooded with questions about the arrangements he wanted to make for your funeral.

People were asking him what kind of service he wanted, when, and where. There were questions about flowers and speakers, but the one that broke him was when someone asked him what type of casket he wanted to pick out for you.

"Excuse me?" He spit out. "Did you just ask me about a casket?" Heat flooded his cheeks. The man sitting across from him stammered a reply.

"Why the fuck would I need a casket? My wife was killed in action, and they never recovered her body. Why would I need a fucking casket if I'm never going to get to lay her to rest and give her a proper goodbye? What kind of fucking question is that?" Bradley growled as tears streamed down his face.

"I don't give two fucks about any of this. The casket, the flowers, a head stone! None of it matters!" He roared before slamming his palms down on the table.

Maverick quickly helped him out of the room before Bradley collapsed against a wall and sobbed.

"Mav, what am I supposed to do? Bury an empty box? Am I supposed to get a headstone with her name on it and put it beside mom and dad with an empty casket under it?" Bradley cried.

"If that's what you want to do." Maverick said softly. "Do you want to put a headstone in Virginia?"

"We talked about it once. When we went other there. She asked me where I wanted to be buried, and I told her with my parents. But if I do that, I can't stay here in California Mav. I'd have to go back to Oceana." Bradley explained.

"If that's what you feel like you need to do, we can start the paperwork. I'll help you get everything taken care of with it. What about your house, though? Maverick asked home.

"I'll sell it. It doesn't feel like home without her it feels more like a prison because it's so empty. We were supposed to raise our kids there and grow old together. But instead, I'm right where I was before I met her, alone." Bradley sighs.

Maverick pats his shoulder and helps him to his feet. "I can't help you put together a nice tribute for Hades. One that she'd be proud of." Maverick gives him a half smile before walking Bradley down to his office.

A week later, Bradley is standing in a hotel room, preparing his dress blues for your funeral. He looks at his reflection in the mirror and flexes his bicep. The Roman numerals that are inked there now have a pair of angel wings beside them. He'd first noticed them a few days after he lost you. He knows that you had to have put them there as a way to make good on your promise to always be with him. He smiled as he traced them.

Bradley doesn't remember what people said about you at your service. It all passed in a blur. He'd written a speech but doesn't remember giving it. He was, and still is on auto pilot.

The realization of everything doesn't hit him until he is walking up to the empty golden oak casket that Maverick helped him pick out and pounding his his wings into it that this is happening.

As the gun salute rings out and jets fly overhead, he feels his heart shattering like a red wine glass over a white table cloth.

After the service, people disburse, but Bradley takes a seat on the freshly broken Earth and stares at the granite stone that reads your name. He stays there for hours, unmoving even as the sun begins to fade, and the first few leaves off autumn drop from the trees and collect on him like dust.

It's only when Maverick and the rest of the Daggers come back at sundown that they are able to coax him away from your grave.

Bradley gets dressed and leaves his hotel room early the next morning, getting to the cemetery just as the sun is coming up. He just wants to be alone. He hopes that maybe in the peace and quiet, he'll be able to feel your presence.

.............

Despite being away from the Underworld so long, you were able to fall back into your routine as queen quickly. It helped keep your mind busy and thoughts occupied. If you were left to your own devices for too long, your mind wandered back to Bradley, and you'd cry so hard that you'd make yourself sick. Honestly, you felt sick most of the time since you'd been back. You chalked up to a broken heart.

Minthe and Hecate encourage you to go visit Bradley's parents in their piece of Paradise, but you were afraid. What if they didn't know who you were or didn't like you?

Right now, it didn't matter. You had to put those thoughts on the back burner because you had a meeting with the Council of Fates. You'd donned a simple but regal black dress and were sitting at the head of a long mahogany table. When Théama, the leader of the Council, walked in with the rest of the Fates in tow.

"Greetings, Majesty." Théama curtsied to you before shaking your hand. "I believe you know the rest of the Council members, but I would like to introduce you to my younger sister, Mantisa. She has just come into her gift of sight.

A younger girl who looked just like Théama curtsied to you before extending her hand to shake yours. The moment her hand touched yours, her head snapped back, and her body froze. Everyone stood still until Mantisa came around.

"Sister, what did you see?" Théama asked her.

"Pardon my ignorance Majesty, all of ours really. We were not aware congratulations were in order." Mantisa spoke.

"What do you mean?" You asked the young Fate with a puzzled look.

"Oh, forgive me. Are you unaware, my lady?" Mantisa asks you. "Unaware of what?" You say, a tad harsh.

"That you are with child." Mantisa says with a smile. You feel your eye twitch before you reach forward and grab her roughly by the arm.

"What did you say?" You grit out. You nails dig into her flesh. "You are with child, my lady. I saw it in my vision." Mantisa trembles out.

"How dare you say that. I have not laid with my husband in weeks. I died before being restored, plugged into the ocean from a tall cliff, and drowned. No babe, could have survived that. The words you have spoken are treason, and I could have your tongue, or better yet, your head for it." Your voice is laced with venom.

"Majesty, please. Mantisa has just received her gift. She does not know how to interpret her visions yet. She is just a girl. Please. Mantisa, take it back!" Théama begs.

"No, I'm not wrong. I saw it. I saw you with a babe. Please, Majesty. Take my hand. Please let me show you." Mantisa pleads. You battle with yourself before deciding to humor her.

"Fine. Prove yourself." You say as you let her go.

Mantisa takes your hand and places it on your stomach and puts her over your own. "Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and feel." Mantisa encourages you.

So you do.

You close your eyes and relax. You think of Bradley and the happy times you spent together. The warmth and the love that he made you feel. And suddenly, you feel it. It's no more than a flutter, but it's there. The beat of a heart that isn't your own.

You gasp as a golden light surrounds you before wrapping around your hand and lighting up your tether, restoring it.

"My gods." You whisper as tears streak your face. "But how?"

"Demigod children are resilient, that have had to be." Minthe tells you as she hugs you.

"You daughter is perfect. She will grow to be a strong and healthy princess and a wise queen." Mantisa tells you.

"Daughter?" You say. "Yes. A daughter. Strong like her mother and father." She smiles at you.

"Thank you." You tell her. "Thank you for this gift. Forgive me for my behavior. I—" you trail off. "You are forgiven. I could not imagine what you have been through." Mantisa says as she hugs you. You and the Fates decide to meet again at a later date. You have something more important to do.

...............

You rocked nervously on your heels as you stood on the porch of the small farmhouse that looked exactly like the one from the photos Bradley had shown you.

After visiting with the royal healers, you found that you were around ten weeks pregnant. Once you realized it, it explained much of your sickness and feelings. You only wish you had a way to tell Bradley. But now that you tether was restored, maybe you could find one.

For now, though, you wanted to tell his parents. So, you changed into a simple black sundress and picked a bouquet of poppies and sunflowers.

You took a deep breath before knocking on their door. You could hear footsteps as you stood there waiting, going over the speech you prepared in your head again.

But the moment the door opened, and you saw Carole Bradshaw standing there, just as beautiful as she was in all the pictures you'd seen of her, you froze.

"Well, hello there." She said to you warmly.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. Carole stood there, waiting patiently with a bright smile on her face.

"I—" you choked out. "I'm sorry—I should go." You say quickly, taking a step back. But before you can leave, Carole places a gentle hand on your arm.

"Nonsense. Please, come in. Goose and I have been so eager to meet you, Sweet Girl." Carole smiles as she guides you through the door.

"You—you know who I am?" You ask her. "Of course I do. Goose and I check on Bradley every day. And did you think I wouldn't recognize my own ring?" She asks you. "Oh." You say shyly.

Carole leads you into the living room that is filled with pictures that you know well. She offers you a seat and you offer her the flowers.

She takes them and calls into the kitchen. "Goose!"

"That's me, Honey!" A male voice calls back. "Get me a vase with some water and start some coffee. Our daughter-in-law is here for a visit!" Carole calls back to him as she walks in the kitchen.

A few minutes later, Carole comes back with coffee, and Goose follows behind her with a tray of sweets. You're stunned at just how much Bradley favors his father. It's uncanny.

"Bradley looks so much like you." You blurt out before you can even think. Goose laughs. "What a shame. I was hoping he would get his mama's beauty." Goose laughs. "Goose, you and I both know how handsome he is." Carole playfully pushes him.

You stand up to shake their hands. "Now, Hades," Goose begins, "we are family, and families hug, Sweet Girl." He says to you before wrapping his arms around you. Carole joins him, and for a minute, everything feels normal.

It feels like home.

You spend all evening with Goose and Carole. They tell you stories about Bradley's childhood, and you tell them about how he is now. Carole makes dinner, and you eat with them, and it makes you feel so warm inside. You only wish Bradley were here. If you could travel to Earth, you could bring him here. Yet another thing Zeus had taken from you.

It's late in the evening when you tell them you have to leave. They offer you their extra room to sleep over, but you decline.

"Before I leave, there is one thing I wanted to tell you. It's the reason I came in the first place, actually." You say.

"What is it, Sweet Girl?" Carole asks you.

"You're going to be grandparents." You tell them. Cries of joy leave their mouths as they hug you tighly.

"Does—does Bradley know?" Goose asks you. You hang your head. "No, I found out today, and with everything I've told you, you know I can't go to Earth and tell him or bring him here. But I'm not going to give up. Bradley is going to meet his daughter." You say.

"Daughter?" Carole smiles. "Yes, daughter." You confirm. "How wonderful. Hades, you are smart. I know you'll figure something out. And we are here if you need us for anything." Carole reassures you. You hug her and Goose once more before traveling back to your palace.

It's late once you get back. You fall asleep almost as soon as your head hits your pillows. You find sleep easy for the first time since you'd returned. You were content to drift off and dream about you and Bradley and your daughter. But hours later, Minthe and Hecate burst into your room.

"My lady! My lady!" They shout, rousing you from your slumber. "What? What is it?" You ask, still groggy.

"My lady, the guards have reported a disturbance at the palace gate. You must come quickly." Minthe tells you.

You jolt up out of bed and wrap yourself in a long, flowing black robe. You run down the hall and down the stairs and through the castle until you burst out the doors. You make your way through the courtyard and through the crowd that has gathered at the palace gate.

You don't believe your eyes when you see what—well who is there. You blink a few times and a pinch yourself to make sure you are awake. Sure enough, you are. Your heart rate quickens, and your palms sweat. You place a protective hand on your stomach before opening your mouth and speaking.

"Bradley?"

...........................................

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