#it is with a heavy heart that i must announce the gifs do look better while being smaller as files when you save them as webp. :(

[gilmore-angel]

unexpected pleasures || A.T x fem!reader

summary ♱ reader has just wed the infamous aemond targaryen, and though she's nervous, she will soon discover there are many pleasurable things to come (tldr reader gets finger fucked good)

warnings/contains ♱ arranged marriage, awkwardness at first, smut obvi, sub!reader dom!aemond, fingering, praise kink!! use of good girl, pretty girl, wife. overall very fluffy!! soft!aemond<3. let me know if I should add anything else!!

authors note ♱ okok this is probably trash but I'm literally forcing myself to write rn<3 lol anyways this is also my first time actually writing for aemond which is crazy bc I've been obsessed with him since like early January💀. if you enjoy please reblog! likes are obviously appreciated but reblogs are the thing that actually help the writer<3 oh and lmk if you want a part two!!

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married life isn't so bad after all.

of course, you've only been married for about three hours now, but it's going better than expected, which at this point is all you can hope for.

your new husband, prince aemond, has been quite pleasant thus far. you have only had roughly six full conversations since you were betrothed two months ago, but based off of them he was very polite and well educated.

though you had dreaded the wedding day, everything had gone smoothly. the ceremony itself was a big event, full of lords and ladies you didn't even know the house of, all eager to get on the new princesses good side. and of course there was the kiss you shared with aemond, one that sent an unknown feeling through you, settling at your lower belly. and now, the grand feast to celebrate the union.

it had less people there, only family and the very important houses were allowed to attend. you sat at the table in the middle, sitting in the center along with your husband. on your other side sat your father, mother and siblings, the same went for aemond. your husband stayed mostly silent during the feast, only speaking when spoken to.

your belly slightly ached with nerves for what was coming next; the bedding. thankfully, the queen had insisted upon a private bedding, just as she did for her other children when they wed. the action soothed your nerves a bit, but they still clung to you.

you had been warned by your mother that the bedding was an uncomfortable and painful process for the woman. but she also informed you that it is something all woman must do to please their lord husband and produce heirs.

you felt your heart sink when the king stood up weakly to announce it was time for you and aemond to head to your chambers. you both stood up and gave your goodbyes, your mother giving you a reassuring smile before you left.

there was an awkward silence as you walked with your husband to your chambers, escorted by guards. you glanced at him, only to see him looking straight ahead, blank expression on his handsome face.

once you arrived the guards pushed open the heavy wooden doors. you gave them a small smile in thanks before aemond dismissed them. as the doors closed aemond let out a small shaky sigh, you couldn't tell if it was out of nervousness or dread. you both stood awkwardly, unsure of where to begin. he spoke first, breaking the deafening silence.

"would you like help taking down your hair?" he blurted out. you nodded, giving him a awkward small smile.

"please," you moved past him to sit at the vanity. you began taking out the many odd placed pins and braids in your hair. aemond came up from behind you to start assisting in the process. the feeling of his long fingers in your hair made up for the times he would accidentally tugged too hard trying to take down the hairstyle. you both worked in silence, the only word spoken was his occasional 'sorry's when he would notice you wince.

now that your hair was down, the room was once again filled with an thick silence. eventually you stood up, turning to face him. you sucked in a breath, looking up at him nervously.

"should i..... should I remove my clothes, my prince?"

his eyes widened at the question, but he nodded, "yes, my lady... I can help."

he moved behind you, undoing the laces of the dress with shaky fingers. the gorgeous dress fell to the floor, pooling around your feet. you stepped out of the dress, leaving you in a silky shift and small clothes. you felt quite vulnerable as you begun taking your shift off, even more so once it was gone.

aemond let out a shaky breath at the sight of you in nothing but your small clothes. he looks up and down your body, desire filling his eye. he walks closer to you, looking deep into your eyes.

"may I kiss you, my lady?" he asked, his usual cold tone gone, now replaced with a soft, caring one. you nod, eyes wide.

aemond smiled softly before leaning down and kissing your soft lips. this kiss was unlike the other one you both had shared just hours before. this one was out of pure want, not obligation.

you gasp softly against his lips when he deepened the kiss, your hands flying up to his strong shoulders. his hands found home on your hips. he pulled away just enough to whisper against your lips, "is this okay?"

you nod, staring up at him with wide eyes. "yes, my prince, I just... I don't really know how to do this properly."

he smiles at you softly, moving one of his hands to caress your cheek gently.

"that's okay, just copy what I do, okay?"

he leans back in, kissing at a slow pace. his lips are soft and warm against your own. you feel something wet poking at your bottom lip and soon realize it's his tongue. you open your mouth slightly and gasp when he slides his tongue in, exploring where he can reach. the sensation causes a soft whimper to fall from your lips.

he begins pushing you backwards gently until the back of your knees hit the edge of the plush bed behind you, causing you to lay down on it. to your surprise, aemond gets on his knees before you and pulls you down so your legs hang off the bed. leaning up on your elbows you look down at him extremely confused. "my prince... what are you doing?"

he simply smiled and blushed, "let me know if you wish to stop, okay my lady?". his big calloused hands went up and down your thighs, pulling them apart. you laid back, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. his hands eventually found their way to your small clothes.

"may I remove these, my lady?" one hand continued rubbing you thigh gently. you hum and nod. that wasn't good enough apparently and aemond lightly pinched your thigh. "words, wife. I need to hear some words out of those pretty lips."

you blushed deeply, taking a deep breath, "yes, please take them off."

he smiles, murmuring under his breath "good girl". you felt a tingle in your lower belly, growing each time he touched or talked to you.

he carefully slid your small clothes off, throwing them somewhere in the room. he sucked in a big breath at the sight of your bare cunt. you squirmed slightly, his gaze lighting you on fire almost.

"may I touch you, wife?" he spoke softly, a poorly hidden desire behind the words.

you nod but quickly remember what he told you. "yes, you may."

with one hand he softly rubbed your thigh, with the other he rubbed one finger up and down your lips, pushing past them and exploring the wet outside. your back slightly arched at the unknown but not unwelcomed feeling. he moved his finger higher until he found your clit. a high pitched whimper escaped your lips at his soft but achingly good touch.

he looked up at you with a sweet smile. "does that feel nice, wife?". his finger moved in gentle circles, pressing ever so slightly.

a few breathy whimpers and moans slipped out of your mouth. "yes," you breathed, "so so nice..."

he let out a hmm, continuing his movements. he moved his finger up and down, gathering your wetness and then spreading it around your sensitive clit. as he rubbed on your bundle of nerves, his other hand came up, softly pressing against your slit.

"this may feel strange, my lady, but I promise it'll feel so good soon, okay?" he pushed a long thick finger into your previously untouched hole, groaning at how tight you were. your back arched off the bed as a loud moan rang around the room. he slowly started moving it in and out, sending waves of pleasure through your body when he curled his finger upwards. your gummy walls tightened around him, almost as tight as he cock felt in his trousers.

he looked up to see your reaction, smiling when he saw your head thrown back in pleasure. soft whimpers left your mouth as his movements quickened.

"may I add a second finger, sweet girl?" something about the way he said the affectionate name sent chills down your spine as you slightly bucked against his hand.

"hmmph, yes, yes please husband." he smirked as he added a second finger. he pumped them in and out fast, his other hand still focused on your puffy clit.

suddenly a new feeling hit you. like some sort of knot in your belly, ready to explode any second. a panicked expression washed over you at the strange sensation.

"aemond, aemond! something is, fuck, happening!" you cried desperately, clenching the sheets beneath you hard.

"shh, it's okay, it'll feel so good. just let it happen sweet girl." it was too much and too little, it was overwhelming yet you needed more. it hurt but felt so so right.

before you could reply waves and waves of pleasure washed over you, drowning you in the feeling of him. your whole body shook, hips bucking wildly into his hand. creamy white cum drooled onto his fingers and hand. he groaned at the sight and fucked you through your peak.

he eventually slid his hand out and climbed up the bed, hovering over you. he brought his cum covered fingers to you mouth, "open," he commanded softly, sucking in a shaky breath when you wrapped you lips around them. he pulled them out, moving to caress your cheek, "such a good girl."

he began kissing your neck, trailing his hand back down to your thighs. you whimpered sweetly causing him to chuckle.

"oh, sweet wife, we are just getting started."

[noona-clock]

Are You Sure? - Part 4

Genre: Exes to Lovers, Fluff, AU

Pairing: Jungshin x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: None

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Epilogue | Words: 2,183

It was honestly nothing short of a miracle that you were awake and functioning right now (even if you were functioning at the lowest possible level) let alone standing in front of a mirror in your hotel room putting on lipstick.

Red lipstick.

Red lipstick was tricky to put on even on the best days, but when you felt like this? When you were running on so little sleep and hadn't consumed a single drop of liquid caffeine yet? When you couldn't quiet your mind because every single word Jungshin had said at dinner last night was racing through your brain?

You truly couldn't believe you'd even been able to open the tube.

And, of course, you had no idea how to tell Emily about all of this. The wedding party was having brunch this morning, and everything was cherry-themed -- cherry mimosas, cherry french toast, cherry blossoms adorning the table. Red lipstick was a must, obviously, and your instinct was to teasingly complain about it to Emily. Asking someone to put on red lipstick after having such a distressing conversation with your ex-boyfriend the previous evening was basically a crime!

But how could you? Bringing this up would undoubtedly ruin the entire gathering, and there was nothing you wanted to do less than even think of ruining anything related to Emily's wedding.

Still, though.

You had no idea how you could act with a semblance of normality. Jungshin's words were still stuck in your head, and you couldn't see them getting unstuck any time soon.

You leaving... everything you said... it was a huge wake-up call. I'd had no idea you were so exhausted, and I was so embarrassed that I hadn't noticed. I'm still embarrassed. And I'm sorry.

You hadn't known you'd needed an apology until he'd given you one, but no matter how much you'd wanted to say 'thank you,' you hadn't been able to. Jungshin had kind of just blurted this out after the two of you had been sitting in silence for a good five minutes, so you'd been kind of in shock hearing his words.

(And, side note, you hadn't been surprised in the least that Jungshin hadn't been able to last long without talking.)

You were so right. A relationship should be a partnership above all else, and you took on way more than I realized. You did all of the heavy lifting. I was a terrible partner, and I will regret that for the rest of my life. I'll regret... losing you. For the rest of my life.

Your heart jumped into your throat now just thinking about it.

How were you supposed to be normal knowing that your ex-boyfriend would regret losing you for the rest of his life?!

And Emily knew you too well enough. She would immediately catch on that something had happened, and it's not like you could lie to her.

You let out a soft sigh before inhaling quickly, holding your breath, and finishing up with your lipstick.

There was no way you were getting out of this, so you might as well just get it over with.

Okay, no, that sounds bad. You didn't want to get brunch over with. You were looking forward to eating delicious food with your best friend!

You just... weren't looking forward to talking about last night. For your sanity, you would simply tell yourself you wouldn't have to.

If your internal clock was correct, it only took about five minutes after sitting down at the pink and red, cherry-covered table at the hotel's restaurant before Emily announced she had to go to the powder room. And then turned to look right at you.

"Y/N, can you come with me?" she asked innocently.

But you knew better.

She knew something was up, and you were so tempted to say, 'Oh, no thank you.'

Instead, you smiled and nodded and murmured a 'Sure.'

As soon as the door to the restroom closed behind you, Emily whirled around on her heel, her eyebrows raised halfway up her forehead.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her tone quite serious. "Is it Jungshin?"

You'd already opened your mouth to reply with 'What do you mean?' but then she'd mentioned him. Your mouth snapped shut.

"Did something happen? Did you see him already?" she continued, obviously concerned when you'd quickly stopped yourself from replying.

So, you let out a soft sigh. You shut your eyes and bit the inside of your cheek.

And then you answered, "Yes and yes."

You heard Emily gasp, and then you felt her take your hands. "What? What?! Tell me everything," she hissed.

"We don't have time for everything right now, but I'll give you the long story short," you relented.

Emily simply nodded fervently, and you let out another sigh, this one deeper and longer than the last.

"You know that I moved my plane ticket so we wouldn't be on the same flight, but he ended up doing the same thing, so we still ended up on the same flight after all, and then we ran into each other in the airport and he asked if he could hop in my rideshare and he took my luggage and put it in the trunk without me even asking him to do it and he asked if we could get dinner so we went to get pizza and he said that me breaking up with him was a huge wake-up call and he regrets losing me and will regret it for the rest of his life and he has been doing a lot of self-reflection the past few months and is actively working on being more thoughtful because he never wants what happened to us to happen again."

Emily's eyes had widened after your first sentence, and her expression only became more and more shocked the more you told her.

Before she could say anything, though, you whispered, "I barely slept last night because everything he said kept running through my mind. I don't know what to do or if I should even do anything!"

"What did you say to him after he told you all of that?" she asked.

"Not much," you admitted. "I was too overwhelmed, and he didn't push me to say anything. In fact, I think his exact words were, 'You don't have to say anything or ever even talk to me again. I just wanted you to know that I don't and have never blamed you, and you were one-hundred percent right.' I did tell him it was nice to hear that, but that's about it. What do I do?!"

You had opened your eyes by this point, and Emily was now searching them with the most empathetic gaze.

"...Do you want to do anything?" she finally asked.

That... was actually a great question.

"I have no idea," you answered truthfully. "Am I constantly thinking about him? Yes. But I don't know if that's just because he's my ex and I'm seeing him for the first time, or if it's because... I miss him, and I still want to be with him. Y'know?"

Emily's forehead wrinkled as she knit her brows together, obviously concerned and worried about you.

"I'm so sorry --" she began in a quiet voice.

"No," you cut her off before she could finish that sentence. "Don't you dare apologize. It's your wedding, and I am absolutely thrilled to be here, and I knew I was going to see him. I was prepared for that. I just wasn't prepare for... this. But that's not your fault, and if you even think of apologizing again, I will cross my eyes in every single wedding party picture. You got that?"

Your best friend's expression changed from 'concerned and worried about you' to 'you're something else.' She rolled her eyes good-naturedly as a smirk tugged at her lips.

"Okay, fine," she relented. "I won't apologize, but I am sorry you're confused. And I am here for you, you got that? I'm almost a married woman now. I have so much relationship advice -- good relationship advice -- it's not even funny."

You chuckled despite what she'd just said then assured her with a quick nod. "Don't worry. I will ask you for every single piece of advice."

"Until I go on my honeymoon."

"Right, of course."

"Because I will be totally unreachable on my honeymoon unless it's a complete and utter emergency. Which it might be! If you guys get back together while I'm gone, that classifies as an emergency, and you'd better tell me!"

Just hearing the words 'if you guys get back together' made your heart skip a beat. You weren't sure if it was a good skip or a bad skip, though.

"Absolutely," you murmured. "I'll only reach out if... that happens. I think it's a big 'If,' but. Still."

Emily simply nodded before pulling you in for a tight hug. "No matter what happens, I'll always be on your side."

You hummed in reply as you hugged her back, a wave of comfort washing over you as you smelled the perfume you'd gotten her as a birthday present a few years ago.

No matter what happens, I'll always be on your side.

Honestly, that lifted a weight off your shoulders. You had no idea what would happen with Jungshin -- if anything happened at all! If you even wanted anything to happen. But no matter what did or didn't happen, you still had your best friend. You still had your family, your job, your apartment.

With or without Jungshin, you had a lot to be thankful for, and you couldn't forget that.

"I think that was the best french toast I've ever had," you declared, your arm looped through Emily's as the pair of you and the rest of the bridesmaids dispersed from the hotel's restaurant.

"Right?!" Emily gasped. "I'm going to be dreaming about it for --"

Her ringtone interrupted her, and when you glanced at her screen like the nosy friend you were, you saw Yonghwa was calling her.

"Oop, hold on," she murmured before accepting his call and bringing her phone to her ear. "Hey you."

Despite the fact your love life was nothing short of, to quote Winston Churchill, "riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma," you couldn't help but smile at the look on Emily's face, the tone of her voice as she spoke to her husband-to-be.

(And, yes, Winston Churchill had been describing World War II when he said that, but was your love life also kind of a war zone? Figuratively speaking, yes. It was.)

"Oh, really? We just got out of brunch, so I can swing by, for sure," your friend continued.

You tried to lean in a bit so you could hear what Yonghwa was saying, but Emily said, "Okay, see you in a sec," and hung up before you got the chance.

"I need to go to the reception hall to go over the place settings," she told you, tightening her hold on your arm just slightly. "Would you like to come with?"

While place setting approval didn't quite sound like the most fun you could have with wedding prep (that award went to cake tasting, obviously), you would never pass up an opportunity to both spend time with Emily and help her make decisions. So, you followed her as she changed course, heading toward the hotel's rather large ballroom where the reception would be in just a couple of days.

Your eyes widened as soon as you walked into the grand, beautifully decorated room, and your arm slipped out of Emily's as you stood in place while she headed to her fiancé.

"Wow," you whispered to yourself as you gazed all around. There were flowers everywhere, a team of people was hanging up strings of lights from each wall to the middle of the ceiling, and yet more people were carrying out tables and chairs and covering them with elegant sky blue cloths.

In short, it looked absolutely magical in here.

Just as you were finished soaking everything in and were beginning to make your way over to where Emily and Yonghwa were standing, you heard the very familiar click of an amp turning on.

Your eyes immediately shifted to a stage set up on the opposite end of the room, and what you saw on that stage made you freeze right where you stood.

Had Yonghwa not known or not mentioned that Jungshin's band would be in here rehearsing and doing a souncheck? Or had he told Emily, and Emily hadn't mentioned it?

Either way, your heart jumped up into your throat when you saw Jungshin slip his bass guitar strap over his head and plug in the amp cord.

God, why were musicians so... so... just so? Y'know?

Watching him pluck at the strings, gently tuning it, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration... your mouth went dry. More than a million butterflies invaded your stomach.

And you feared you were very much in jeopardy of falling for him all over again.

Shit.

Part 5

[jcrsctrl]

— the night sky.

summary: Jacaerys heard his betrothed was bored, so he takes you out to look at the night sky.

pariring: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader.

w/c: 1,3K words.

notes: Hello everyone! This is my first ever one shot, I hope you'll like it. Don't hesitate to give me some feedback to improve my writing! Also, English is not my first language, I apologize in advance if some sentences/words don't make sense, let me know so I can do better in the future!

warnings: none ?

Lying on the side of your bed, you stared at the ceiling. This room was not the one you were used to sleeping in, but a brand new and temporary one. As a daughter of a Lord close to the royal family, they had decided to betroth you to the eldest son of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and her Prince Consort, Ser Laenor Velaryon. So here you are, lying on a bed that is not your own, while your family has been invited to spend some time celebrating the princely betrothal. You already knew Jacaerys and were happy to be able to marry him, you knew him to be a protective and good gentleman. You couldn't have hoped for a better fiancé, what bothered you at the moment was the distance.

Not being married, you and Jacaerys could not sleep in the same room, and during the day, you hardly had time to talk to each other: Jacaerys' duties as heir to the Iron Throne consumed much of his time. You only had time to see him when he was training with his brother, Lucerys, in the morning. You could watch him as he made a physically demanding effort, clapping lightly at each of Jacaerys' movements.

Here you were, lying on his bed thinking about Jacaerys, the way his jaw twitched when something upset him, the way the muscles in his arms tensed as he circled around Lucerys, whom he had just disarmed for the umpteenth time, giving him advice so he wouldn't be in the same situation again.

You loved the way his voice would speed up when a new idea came to him, or when he liked one of yours so much that he would lose himself for a moment and forget the mask he wore for other. By now, Jacaerys must have returned from his busy day as heir. What could he be doing? A bath, certainly, after such a busy day, a bath would surely relax him more than anything else. As you imagined Jacaerys' muscles slowly sinking into a steamy hot bath you heard footsteps in your room.

Without trying to understand what was going on, the woman you are raised on her bed and grabbed a jug from her bedside table before placing your feet on the cold floor. The room was silent, and you looked around the entire chamber with an assertive gaze. Your heart pounding in your chest. You knew you were supposed to be alone in the bedroom, so why was someone breaking in without announcing themselves?

The tension made your arm shake as you held the pot in argyle as you felt muscular hands on your shoulders. You didn't have time to turn around before you were already lying on the floor, one hand covering your mouth to prevent you from screaming. Lying on the ground, you felt a heavy body with muscles under heavy clothing holding you down. You then opened your eyes, closed in fear, as you felt the jug being taken from your hand without a struggle. That's when you saw Jacaerys Velaryon over you with a smile on his lips.

"Are you trying to kill your betrothed now?" Susured Jacaerys at your ears remaining in the same position he seemed to like. He then gently removed his hand from your mouth. "Have you gone completely mad Jacaerys?" you immediately shouted out as Jace gestured to you to keep your voice down. "Breaking into my room at such an hour, of course I intended to kill you!"

The two betrothed now standing, Jacaerys stared at the argyle jug lying on the floor before raising his brown eyes to you. "With an argyle pot? Dearest, next time get something more... impactful." He says before sinking into the dark part of your room. "Jace, where are you going?" you ask. "I heard my betrothed was bored, so follow me, I have a surprise for you darling."

You didn't wait long and decided to follow Jacaerys as he went through a secret passage behind a wall, which was where he had entered. A few minutes later you were on the heights of the castle. The stars filled the sky like pale maize in freshly turned ground. It was the promise of life in the night, a touch of warmth out of the cold. It was a humbling immensity and an eternal space that made one grateful for the comfort of home. No matter how many years passed, Jace saw each night sky as a new gift given once again. It was the moment when everyone who knew him saw his eyes smile and his breathing deepen just a little.

"Isn't it beautiful (y/n)?" "It is, Jace... It is."

While you looked up at the sky, which was giving you the most beautiful show, Jacaerys found the most wonderful show in your amazed eyes. He contemplated you in a way that every girl in the kingdom wanted to be looked at by her suitor. Your eyes, your hair, the way your lips pulled apart as you were mesmerized by the landscape that was in front of you.

Everything seemed to spark the interest of the man to whom you were promised. "Jace, are you not scared sometimes?" you asked, as you gracefully turned your head towards Jacaerys. Caught in the act of looking at you, Jacaerys looked away as he quickly wetted his lips with his tongue, almost forgetting to answer your question. Raising his brown eyebrows as he thought about it further.

"Frightened of what, darling ?" He asked as he moved closer to you, staring at your sweet face. "Of the thought of us getting wed. What if it does not work out ? What if we are not meant to be with each other after all ? Even if we're in a true and deep romance now- What could guarantee that the same passion, the same love we have for each other will burn in our veins forever?"

Jacaerys was not upset by this comment of yours. Instead, the prince seemed pleased and proud that you felt sufficiently comfortable to share your fears with him. He allowed himself a few seconds of silence. A silence that seemed like an eternity to you, but was necessary for Jacaerys to answer you in the best possible way. Running his fingers behind your ear, Jacaerys placed your face between his two hands, your eyes focused on him.

"I am not afraid because I love you as if you were the last of my kind. It is as if you speak the same language as I do, and no other was capable of it. Being close to you, (y/n), is like finally not being lonely - as if all my life I've been alone, in a room with no way out... and then suddenly you come in as if you were walking through a summer meadow, you light up my heart. It's because I feel this way with every moment with you, that I know that this feeling that we have will remain intact for the rest of our days. How is it that you are so much more than a ray of sunshine for me ? How is it that you breathe life into me when no one else can? Who could love me more than you ? I don't have the answer to all these questions. But however, (y/n), my betrothed, my love, remember this: as long as I am breathing, I am yours in mind, body and soul."

Jacaerys did not permit you time to answer, as a couple of tears of emotion rolled down your cheeks, Jacaerys Velaryon gently caressed your face to wipe away the tears. The light of the moon high in the night sky came into sight for both of you. Jacaerys finally placed his lips on yours. The kiss was both, electric and soft, doubtful and certain, terrifying and incredibly good. You could feel the romance pass from you to Jacaerys and from Jacaerys to you from the tip of your lips. As your mouths tried to merge and you couldn't even breathe, your kiss was warm and tingly, youthful and antique, and most importantly full of life. Jacaerys was thinking it was true. What they used to say about falling truly in love.

[thedeathofduty]

Talisman II

@abrielleholland

Summary: Several long days have passed since news of your broken betrothal with Prince Aemond has passed through court. While you have managed to be strong in ignoring the pitying, mocking, or even envious stares thrown your way, your father has seemingly grown tired of dealing with the gossip and of your wounded heart. He goes away on some unnamed errand and leaves you behind to answer a frantic knock on the door to your apartments at an indecent hour.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x UnspecifiedHouse!F!Reader

Warning(s): N/A

A/N: I have no words. I didn't think anyone would even reblog the original Talisman, much less leave comments or ask for a part two. Thank you to everyone who asked for this. My heart feels very full. We are coming in hot at 4,486 words, so have fun :) Here's part three!

Word traveled fast, spreading through court like a forest fire. You poor little dove, Lady Y/N, daughter and only child to a widower, to a man who's dared to reach too high, had been cast aside by your betrothed Prince Aemond and by extension, by the whole royal family. You knew them to be salacious falsehoods, a more interesting story perhaps than the simple truth of it: that your father had brought you to King's Landing so you would not be lonesome at home without him and that your betrothed had not cast you aside, but had instead been called to answer a more pressing duty. Though, in truth, you did often feel cast aside.

Before, you would have breakfast with your father or the royal family or even in the gardens with Prince Aemond, but you were never alone early in the morning. Since your conversation with the Queen Dowager, however, you were now alone more often than not. The royal family was occupied with the coming war, whether there was to be bloodshed or not, and your own father seemingly did not even know how to look you in the eye anymore. Perhaps he could feel your heavy heart beating sluggishly in your chest and simply did not know how to reach you. It would have meant the world to you if he had only tried, but he never did.

You awoke one morning to a bottle of scented oil next to your bed with a note saying 'From Father', but it did not smell right and those were dahlia petals floating in the amber glass, not rose. You loved your father often enough, as he did you, but sometimes you felt you lived with a well-meaning stranger.

"I will be going away for a little while, Y/N," he announced one night at supper, carefully cutting the lamb on his plate.

"Whatever for?"

"Do not worry yourself with that." When he looked at you across the table, he looked impotent and inept and it made your cheeks flush in anger. Could he not even try to be a real father to you? "Focus on feeling better. When the Queen Dowager is ready to help you find a husband, you will want to be charming and in good spirits."

"I actually find myself quite charming like this," you said bitterly, taking a sip of your strongwine.

"No man likes for his Lady Wife to be bitter or contemptuous, Y/N. Let us hope that when I return, I will find the daughter I came here with instead of a phantom who mournfully haunts the halls of the Red Keep."

"Am I not even allowed to be brokenhearted?" You glared at him, holding the stem of your goblet in a tight, unyielding grip.

"Of course you are, my dear, so long as you do it quietly. You must know how people are looking at you, at me, now that the Prince is no longer your betrothed and yet we still occupy these apartments." He turned back to his meal, assuming the matter finished. Of course that was what mattered most to him. Never mind the yearning or beating of your own heart.

"How can you be so cruel to me?" Your voice nearly cracked, but you managed to control at least that. "I am your only child and yet you leave me to suffer this broken betrothal and those terrible people around court all by myself. You should be protecting me!"

"You are nearly a woman grown, Y/N!" His voice boomed and you swore it was so deep and powerful, it nearly moved your hair. "What am I to do for you in a time like this? He is just a boy and you are just a girl and in ten year's time, neither of you will remember the other at all! You will have your own life with which to busy yourself and none of this nonsense will hold any sway over you."

You could find no words for him, only a cold wind sweeping through your chest as your eyes watered. "Is that what you think you will feel for my Lady Mother in ten year's time? Indifference? And even if that is so, does that ease any of your present pain, father?"

Without a word or even a sound, he threw his napkin on his plate and calmly strolled into his chambers, leaving you to finish your meal by yourself. When you awoke on the morrow, he was predictably gone. Your father was ever a man of his word when it pleased him, and it seemed that being away from you when you were like this pleased him greatly.

Without Aemond at King's Landing, you felt like a ship with no star to guide it. You had only used to spend so much time in the training yard because you'd enjoyed watching him fight. The library was too quiet and stuffy and you felt that if you breathed even a touch too loudly in there, all the scholars would set you aflame with their hateful glares, but even that was preferable to wandering the gardens by yourself or trying to find peace in the Godswood where anybody could approach you and say a few barbed words disguised as kindness. You found that you could smile and wave away most comments, but one stayed with you like bile in your throat.

Just two days ago, you had been sitting at the base of the weirwood tree in the Godswood, a thick tome of Westerosi fairy tales in your lap. Foolishly, you had thought nobody would disturb someone who so clearly did not want to be disturbed. "Are you to be the Prince's mistress now?" The question was simple, direct, and offensive. You had never spoken a word to Lady Redwyne, but it seemed the fact that you had not even been acquainted was not enough of a reason for her to be well-mannered. All at once, your blood rushed into your ears and you looked up at her. The sun in your eyes partially blinded you, but you could clearly see the smile on her face.

"Are you asking to know if the position is still available, Lady Redwyne?" The pleasure that overcame you at the sight of her smile falling was immeasurable. What you desired was the time to salve your wounds in peace, but you were not so meek as to suffer an attack like that. "The Baratheons have a unique comeliness to them, so I am sure whatever Lady our Prince brings home will be able to please him as his bride." Now you were the one smiling even as your heart clenched at the reality of what you were saying. "You are still free to ask him, though, My Lady. Perhaps you will be lucky and he will honor you."

If any of the other Lords and Ladies at court had anything more to say about your predicament, they graciously kept it to themselves and that, at least, pleased you. After you had arrived in King's Landing, you had become taken with the Prince so quickly and he with you that you had become swept up by him. Nobody had pushed to become acquainted with you and so now you were without friends or allies. You did not want to be alone. You wanted things to be as they had been before.

You wanted breakfast with your new family and supper with your old one and days spent cheering in the training yard with a boring book you could care less for forgotten in the grass next to you as you watched Aemond, your Aemond, spin his sword and shatter Ser Criston's shields. Once or twice, you had even managed to convince Princess Helaena, now Queen Helaena, to come out with you, though she so abhorred the violence. You had always found it quite thrilling. Your Prince had known this about you and compared you to a Valyrian dagger wrapped in silk, to danger disguised by beauty. When he and Ser Criston would spar with real steel, your betrothed would bring you his sword so that you may kiss the blade to wish him good fortune. He always won and, though you were certain it was because of his years of practice, he said it was because of you. That was why he had started calling you his little talisman.

You reminded yourself that could not have any of that. So alone you would be.

You picked up the book of fairytales from the library again that evening, holding it close to your heart as you took the long walk back to your chambers to read it in bed. Childish though it may be, you had always found tales of love and chivalry to be quite moving. The idea of love being able to win over impossible circumstance sounded so beautiful to you. A shame that was not to be your story, but maybe your father was right. After all, as a small girl, you remember fancying a young stableboy back at home. It was nothing, just the pure-hearted love between children, but it had been nearly ten years and, as your father had said, you barely remembered him now. The only thing that remained of that young boy you had been so enamored with was a silhouette, an impression, nothing more. Still, you curled up in your bed and read as many stories as you could before sleep overtook you and pulled you into its embrace.

You awoke to a sharp pain in your wrist and the back of your neck from where you had been hunched over your book with your chin in your hand. With a grimace and a sigh, you stood and stretched. You'd no notion of the time, but it must have been very late. The fire in your chamber had almost completely died out where it had been a small yet powerful flame before. On your way out of your chambers, you tossed a small pine log into the fireplace. You felt the pangs of hunger and approached the table where you always had supper with your father, plucking an apple from the copper bowl at the center.

It was a little cold for your taste, not enough to make your skin break out in gooseflesh but enough that you did not like it and while you could have called for a servant to come and start the fire for you, you had never been very patient with menial tasks such as those. And after all, the hour felt very late. By the time you rang the bell and a servant arrived, you would have already frozen half to death. In a few long moments, you were sitting on the couch facing the balcony and finishing your apple with sooty hands and a crackling flame behind you. The sky before you was clear and beautiful, an ominous full moon watching you from a high point in the heavens above.

You found you missed your father now. He would often be awake at an hour like this, either drinking wine on the balcony or taking notes on the stars in his study. If you could not find sleep, you would pad barefoot over to him and he would bore you senseless with whatever bureaucracy had him up with the moon. Sleep would pull you in whether you were curled in a chair in his study or draped across the couch you sat in now. There was peace in the memory of it, a peace that was disrupted by a loud, desperate knock at the door to your apartments.

You were unsure if to answer the door at such an hour, but then again came another flurry of knocks, these even stronger than the ones before. Without thinking, you ran to the door, only to stop again.

"Who is it?" You would not open this door for any man on Planetos. It was surely well known at court by now that your father had gone and left you behind and you, without friends, without allies...

"My love," you heard Aemond's voice call from the other side of the door and you yanked it open so quickly, you nearly struck yourself in the face. So quickly in fact, that you immediately cursed yourself for being so eager and foolish. This man was meant to be nothing to you now but an unwanted visitor demanding entrance at an indecent hour, but you could not help the longing in your heart as you took him in for the first time in over a sennight.

His silver hair, usually so neat and straight, was knotted around his head and even looked a bit damp in some places. His lips were pulled down in a sharp frown, his nostrils flared as he breathed harshly. His cheeks were flushed and his blue eye bloodshot, wild, and wide.

"Y/N," he said your name quietly like a prayer, reaching towards you then pulling his hand back like you had burned him when you took a step away from him. "I apologize if I disturbed your rest."

"The hour is quite late, My Prince." He nodded and though you felt the warmth inside your chest returning, with it came the anger over your being abandoned. "Perhaps we can talk on the morrow." With that, you were ready to leave him for the night, but his hand flew to the door and stopped you. "My Prince-"

"Please," he whispered through gritted teeth, his frown deepening even further as you noted his hand trembling on the door. "I wish to speak with you, I need to speak with you."

Against every lesson you had been taught your entire life, you sighed and asked him, "is there anyone in the hall?"

"I would never put you in such a position, my-My Lady," he said quietly as he shook in your doorway, looking like he would crumble into ruins at any moment.

"Come in, quickly." Like your words were a spell, he all but collapsed through the door and you clutched at him as he breathed you in harshly with a fist in your hair and another in your nightdress. His clothes were damp and you wondered if he was shaking simply because he was cold. "Aemond, what is-"

"I had to see you. Something's happened."

Thinking he was referring to your broken engagement and his new Lady Wife, you tensed and started to pull away. "Yes, I know. Release me." A beat later, he did just that, swaying before you once more as he closed the door behind him. You felt horribly exposed before him, choosing to grab a sheet from a nearby chair to wrap around yourself and looking away when he gazed at you with more warmth and affection than you could tolerate from him at the moment. "Your mother told me about your new betrothal. So, when am I to have the fortune of meeting your Lady Wife? Does she know where you are?"

"I've no wife, Y/N, nor any betrothed to speak of." Your head snapped up to stare at him. He looked honest, yet you could not allow yourself to believe him. Surely, he was telling you these things to trick you somehow, but even as the thought entered your mind, you knew Aemond was incapable of such treachery.

"Impossible. Your mother sent you to Storm's End to secure a marriage pact. She told me so herself, and now you lie?"

"I do not lie," he hissed.

"Then what has happened, My Prince?"

"Please do not call me that, I cannot bear it," he grimaced, covering his face with one hand and turning from you. "I came here tonight to speak with you, only you, not behind the veil of titles and artifice, but with the only person who would-" He stopped himself as his voice broke, his breathing growing deep and even as if he was trying to control something feral and wretched inside himself. You found yourself reaching for his arm before you could stop yourself, pulling him towards the couch and sitting on his right so he could see you clearly. You gently ran a hand through his hair, trying to restore it to the sort of order you knew he liked to keep it in, but it proved futile. In time, he uncovered his face and your heart clenched at the sight of his eyelashes clumped together with tears. "Yes, it is true, my mother sent me to Storm's End to marry one of Lord Borros' daughters, but it was not my choice, Y/N. I could not say no."

"And neither could you tell me yourself?" Your vision was swimming with tears now as you gripped Aemond's arm with as much force as you could muster.

"How could I tell you such a thing?" His face twisted.

"Is that really your excuse? Weakness? I should have heard it from you, not your mother." You stood abruptly, leaving the sheet you had wrapped around yourself behind to pace in front of him and wring your hands together. "I thought-you and I-" You gasped, holding your own hair with both hands. "Do you not feel for me what I feel for you?"

He shot up, pulling your hands out of your hair and holding them in his own. "Yes. Please, my love, believe me. The gods brought you to me by chance, by some mistake, you are the stroke of fortune I have in my life, and I am..." He sneered in unbridled disgust and pulled away from you. "I am cursed."

"Cursed?" Though you tried to meet his gaze, he refused to look back at you. "Aemond, you have to tell me. What's happened?"

"Vhagar, she... gods, she was meant to listen." You shook your head, trying and failing to understand. "When I went, that... Lucerys was there, the Princess' son, and he was not meant to be there, Y/N. If she had just accepted the terms my brother gave her, then the boy would still..." His breathing was harsh and shallow, matching your own.

"He would still what, Aemond?" Your voice was only just above a whisper. There was a pit of horrible dread blooming in your stomach like a shard of dragonglass starting to press its way out of your body.

"He would still be alive."

You stepped back from him, shaking your head as a single word echoed in your head: Kinslayer. "No," you murmured, "no, Aemond, no. Do not tell me..."

He was no longer shaking, seemingly responding to the horror coming of your body in waves of heat and panic. Now his hands were up, palms exposed as he approached you as though you were a frightened bird who had accidently flown in during a storm. How could this man in front of you, one who was always so tender with you, be a killer? The gods curse kinslayers most of all and for good reason. They are all wicked and deceitful.

But you would never use those words to describe Aemond. Surely, it must be some mistake. He appeared before you now weak and repentant, not drunk off power and cruelty. If he had really done it, would he not be happy in his sickness? But if he had not, why was he here?

You let him touch you for only a moment before you sobbed and he let you go. "That is why, isn't it? Lord Borros would not have his daughter be wed to you because you killed your own nephew."

The words hung heavy between the both of you, making the air in the room feel heavy and oppressive. You felt that if you did not find some way to free yourself, you would die in here with him and it would be all your fault because you let him in and you would never force him to leave. Whatever curse befell him, it would be on you soon enough because you knew what he was and yet you could not bring yourself to condemn him for it.

"It was Vhagar." The words were strained coming past his lips like he had to push each one out with great effort. "Y/N, she roared when I lost my eye, she has been with me every day since. When I ride her, we are as one and I feel her even now." His hand struck his chest right over his heart and gripped the fabric of his shirt there. "I believed us to be of one mind and will. I never imagined she would betray me." He inhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Disobey me," he corrected.

You had never ridden Vhagar, despite Aemond trying to convince you on more than one occasion. Even just seeing her flying high over the Red Keep was enough to strangle your heart with fear and wonder. Swords and knives were one thing, but those weapons had no will of their own. You had read once that dragon eyes could pierce flesh and bone to see into the soul of a person. The risk of the Prince's dragon deeming you unworthy was too big a risk to take. She was the largest living dragon, battle hardened. What would you be to her? Just a grain of sand or a stray bone stuck between her stalagmite teeth.

"What happened?"

"She would not heel. I begged her to serve me and she tore the boy and his dragon out of the sky. In pieces." His nostrils flared again, his lips pressed into a hard line. Aemond was a dangerous swordsman to be sure, but he had never known real battle. He had never taken a life and it showed in the horror and fatigue on his sickened face. "There was no saving him."

Silence stretched taut between the two of you before you broke it, your mind working to patch together the pieces of the story Aemond was trying to tell you. "She disobeyed you without cause or reason? What happened before?" His lips were pressed in a hard line and he turned his good eye away, not bearing to look at you. "Tell me."

"I wanted what the boy owed me," he said gravely.

"His life?"

"His eye!" He met your gaze again and you could see everything in him: the rage, the shame, the fear. "He stole mine all those years ago, but he never paid a price for it."

You swallowed thickly, not trusting yourself to speak. Was it truly worth a curse on his entire bloodline to settle a single feud? Was it worth starting a war? What little you knew of Prince Daemon Targaryen was terrible, and that man was the Princess' husband. What would he do when he found out? But then again, what could you know of the pain your Aemond had suffered that night? You were not there, you were at home and when you learned the news of what had happened, the Prince was not a person to you yet but a story. The only comparable pain you had was the loss of your mother, but you knew that to be an entirely different sort of grief.

"Do you hate me very much?" His voice was so small, it seemed to belong to a child. Your lip quivered as you shook your head and he sighed in relief, approaching you once more and holding back until you melted into his chest like a piece of wax next to a roaring flame. He held you close with one hand cupped behind your head. "Nobody can know," he whispered, "that it was a mistake."

"You would have them imagine you to be a kinslayer?" He flinched at the word. "Even your mother?"

"I will tell my mother in the morning, but only you and her are allowed to know the truth of it." You nodded, pressing your face further into his chest. "Swear it to me. Swear that you will guard my secret, Y/N."

"I will guard all your secrets," you said and the weight of it settled on your tongue, the reality of your vow to him.

He breathed you in deeply, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. "I missed you so dearly, my little talisman. My days are long without you."

Your heart fluttered in your chest. "As are mine, my love."

Reluctantly, you let him pull away from you, your protest dying on your lips as he stroked over them with his thumb and that same affection from earlier shining out of his eye. "Can you forgive me for leaving you behind?"

"If you would fix the injustice of our broken betrothal, you can consider the matter laid to rest forever." Your lips moved against his finger and he smiled, leaning down to press a chaste kiss against them. There was something inside you pulling you up, higher and higher, until you were above the clouds with him once more. You never believed the Targaryens to be closer to gods than men, but wherever Aemond is, that is where your heart is destined to reside. If you could be lucky enough to be with a man you truly love, what curse of the gods could possibly touch either of you? Your fortune was strong enough that it could shelter the both of you from any unhappy chance.

He lowered himself until he was on his knees before you. "Would you be with me still, even cursed as I am now? People at court will say I forced this on you and your father would be furious."

You thought about your father and the indifference he preached, about how he had left you behind and Aemond was here kneeling for you, praying at your altar for your love and forgiveness. You wanted to give him every single piece of yourself. If there was anything these past few days had taught you, it was that you could weather any storm of gossip so long as you had a port to call home and that was what Aemond was to you most of all.

"They are of no consequence."

He smiled at you then, kissing each hand in turn. "You honor me with your graciousness, My Lady Y/N."

"With my love, Prince Aemond."

His smile was a bashful one and it made you laugh. "Love it is, then."

You wound your fingers into his messy, silver hair, marveling at the fact that he let you have this sort of sway over him as you tilted his head just a little farther back. His lips were parted and you longed to claim them, to claim him. "So you are all mine again?" you asked, already knowing his answer.

"Completely," he whispered.

[itsthestutterforme]

“Friend of Eadith” 2/2

Summary: You sought out to find Eadith when she goes missing. Thankfully, you find her just in time- her and a few others.

Notes: GIF is not mine, all mistakes are my own, sexual themes (morning sex, sub!Osferth, dom!reader), mentions of past relationship with Aemond Targaryen

**

“You must join me,” “Aemond, I can’t.” “You said until death do us part, did you not?” “I did, but-“ “Then you must do this,” your eyes narrows at the dagger in his outstretched hand. “Please, don’t make me do this-“ “Do it! Now!” “I won’t!” You yelled back at him, slapping the dagger from his hand.

He lunges at you and you awoke with a scream. Your eyes snap open, frantically searching for a weapon until you realizes you were in the confines of your hut back in Mercia. Your chest heaved with heavy breaths. The door bursted open, earning a sharp inhale from you.

It was Osferth holding his sword as his eyes searched the room. “Is everything alright, Lady Y/N? I heard screaming.” He states, continuing to analyze the room. “It’s alright.. I was just having a bad dream.” His face falls when he sees you wipe the tears from your face. You must have been crying in your dream.

He retires his sword and closes the door behind him. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asks, sighing when you shake your head no. He sets his sword on the table and sits next to you, cupping your chin to press kisses to your temple. You’ve been seeing each other for a week. It’s been the longest Uhtred has stayed in one place, and you’re not ready to see him leave.

“Come,” He lays with his back to the door, protecting you from any harm and you laid down facing him. “I fear I’ve grown attached to you, Osferth.” He blinks softly at your words. “And I you, lady.” “That can’t be good for either of us, is it?”

“It feels right. That’s what matters.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and you wrapped your arms around his neck, the side of your face resting on his. His soft breaths tickled your neck and your eyes naturally closed, feeling the safety in the warmth of Osferth’s body.

Sunrise came and Finan went into Osferth’s tent to see it empty. He huffed in annoyance and made his way over to your hut where the two of you were fast asleep. Finan knocks on the door of your hut, startling you both. “Put your clothes on, you rabbits. Prince Edward has arrived and wants to meet with us.” Finan announces through the door. You groaned as you sat up, smoothing your hair down with little progress.

“You look beautiful,” Osferth says, gently pulling at one of your smaller curls. “I look like something exploded in my face,” you say, causing him to chuckle. You both stood from the bed and you grabbed a brush on your vanity table. Osferth watched as you brush your hair down with some tree oil.

You caught his gaze in the mirror and a revelation came to mind. “Osferth,” “Yes, beloved.” You heart fluttered at the pet name. “If Uhtred stationed you on the other side of camp, how did you hear my screams?” “I.. w-well, you see..”

You turned to face him, setting the brush back down. “You came in seconds later. Which meant you were right outside when you heard them. What were you doing out there that late?” His adams apple bobbed anxiously as you neared him.

You walked him to the bed, he sat at the edge and you stood between his legs. He looked straight up at you with the most innocent of faces, but you knew better. “Tell me,” you said with amusement. “I w-wanted to check if you were awake,” “To do what?”

“To hump you,” he said softly, his gaze falling to the swells of your breasts in your night gown. “Hm. You would think you would get tired of me by now.” You state. “I could never get tired of you, lady.” You slowly piled yourself in his lap, he leans on his back with his hands holding your hips.

He whimpers when you rolled your hips against him, he takes the fabric of your night gown to pull over your head. “Oy! I’m still here. Go bathe in some holy oil, you heathens and get your arses out here. Jesus Christ!” Finan exclaims. “I mean it!” He adds.

“Alright, alright. Osferth is going. I still have to put on my dress.” When you try to slide off his lap, he holds you steady. “We have a problem,” he whispers when you raise a brow at him. You follow his gaze to the tent in his gown and bit back a smile. “We’ll be right out, Finan. I promise.”

“Jesus,” you could practically hear his eye roll from where you were. You waited to hear his descended footsteps. “Aw, you needy boy. I barely even touched you and you’re already this hard.” “Please,” he ruts his hips into your hand. “Guess we’ll have to make this quick then.”

**

Since Prince Edward arrived to Mercia, things have been odd to say the least. Osferth has been distant. Finding excuses why he couldn’t see you. You were a bit confused and a little hurt.

Edward hasn’t been shy with his interest in you, but that’s never been new. Men haven’t wanted to pursue you since before you turned 18. The only man that succeeded in winning you over were Aemond and Osferth. You had no interest in Prince Edward.

Osferth glanced over at you and Eadith walking your horses back to the stable. He looked away once he saw Prince Edward approach you. “You’re just going to give up a woman that has your heart so easily?“ Uhtred asks him. “There’s no comparison, Lord. I’m a mere bastard. He’s next in line to the throne.”

“Lady Y/N, may we walk through the garden together?” Prince Edward asks once you reached the stable. You and Eadith shared a look and she gave you sympathetic eyes. “I have some business to attend to with Lord Uhtred, your Grace. Perhaps later?”

“Of course. I’ll be waiting.” You walked away with Eadith and she falls into stride with you. “So what are you going to do?” “I’m going to get to the bottom of what’s wrong with Osferth.” You approached Osferth and he stands from the table. “Sit.. down.” You commanded, holding his gaze until he sat back down.

His embarrassed gaze fell to his hands folded in his lap. “Can you gives us a minute?” “Of course,” Uhtred says with a smile, standing from the table. Sihtric and Finan follow him to the alehouse, you smiled when you Finan nudged you as he walked by. “Go get ‘em,”

You sighed as your focus settled back on Osferth. Sitting on the bench in front of him, he refused to meet your eye. You leaned forward and lifted his chin until you saw his sky blue orbs. “Talk to me, please..” “He’s interested in you. He’s the better choice.” “And you’re willing to give me up at the sight of a challenge?”

When he doesn’t respond, you scoffed and stood from the table. You turned to find Eadith when you felt a hand on your forearm. “Of course I’ll fight for you. But why would you want me as your..” “Your what?” “I want to be more than your lover. I want to be your partner, your husband.”

“You wish to be my husband?” A wide smile making its way to your lips. He takes your hands into his and pulled you to where he was sitting. “I do, Y/N. I-If you’ll have me.” “Then why have you been avoiding me whenever Prince Edward nears?” He squeezes at the name.

“I’m a bastard. Prince Edward and I share a father. And if he’s interested in you, there’s nothing that can stop him from having you. He can give you things I can’t even fathom. He’s… better than me.” He pulls away from your hands. “I see.. you think that because your father chose him over you, that I’ll do the same?”

You took his silence as an agreement. “I never cared for status or money. I care about who makes me feel safe and wanted.” You added. He grew confident in your words, his eyes narrow when he saw your lips twist into a mischievous smirk. “Tell me when he’s looking,” you said. Osferth looks to the table across the walkway to see Edward staring at the two of you with a bewildered look on his face.

“He’s look-“ you held his face and pressed a warm kiss to his lips. You chuckle when he moaned into the kiss only to whine after you pull away from him. “Where are you going?” “Taking a bath,” you made your way to the lake, stopping to look over your shoulder. He scrambled to his feet when you beckoned him over, nearly losing his footing on the way to you.

[littlefreya]

The Devil’s Tongue

Summary: A mask of virtue hides a man riddled with lust and while his stoicism proceeds him, even he can’t withstand a begging girl. 

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x OFC (3rd person POV)

Warning: 18+. Manhandling, abuse of power, MaleDom/FemSub, some thigh riding, unprotected sex, deflowering, loss of virginity, mild mentions of blood, sex in front of mirror (auto-voyeurism), profanities, bodily fluids, possessive behaviour. 

Words: 4.5k

A/N: Many thanks to my muse @agniavateira for supporting me through this story and for betaing. This was inspired by a certain scene in the film. My pervy mind took it elsewhere. Sincerely, I am not sure how I feel about it, so I’ll let you be the judge while I’m having my panic attack. 

Please reblog and give feedback if you enjoyed. 🖤

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own*

Title: The Devil’s Tongue

The treacherous moon was already high in the midnight sky and winds of melancholia whispered through the ivy leaves that grew timidly around the window’s panes. Despite the solace of night, her blood seeped with venom, and vicious thorns grew beneath her skin.

Striding through the desolate corridors of Holmes’ estate, Vanessa fumed while listening to the sounds of the old house: the creaking of the floorboards, the glass panes rattling in the wind, and the scratching of mice that ran between the walls. A kerosene lamp hung heavy between her sweaty fingers; her knees cracked as she marched forward to face her master.

Same as every night, Sherlock hid in his library to chase adventures behind thin sheets of paper. He was not to be disturbed, though he left her no choice.

Sent her away he did, claiming that her service was no longer needed even though she was promised a home at the estate, despite Enola’s departure. The worst of it was that he didn’t even bother telling her himself, but simply sent another servant to announce that she must pack her belongings tonight.

‘Like hell, I would!’

Vanessa willed her heart to beat slowly as she tiptoed, cursing every wooden plank that grated beneath her feet. It’s been over a year since she started working for the Holmes family, and despite battling her concupiscence tooth and nail, Mr. Holmes has possessed her very existence. Sleepless nights left her yearning to drink the mead of his mouth and feel the slapping of his skin onto hers.

Wistfully, the brooding detective only stared at her with a lustre of ice. But the notion of never seeing him again felt like holding a blade pointed to her chest; the wish to confess nibbled in her gut like a pesky little fish.

‘At least I will have the chance to say farewell…’ she mused as she finally reached the open doorway of the library. It was a cosy cavern, stuffed with endless shelves of books and vases of pink roses to mellow its austerity.

Wood burnt to a crisp within the hearth, its aromatic scent bleeding into the air and a light layer of ashen mist wafted over the chamber. There sat her master, resting comfortably on his maroon leather armchair with a book in one hand and a pipe pressed between his succulent lips like a king on a throne of solitude.

Silently she stared, brow furrowing at his sight. It baffled her how a man can be so oblivious to the dangerous power he had over women. Sherlock was as divine as the coldest day of winter: eyes of crystal snow, curls darker than the night, and sharp facial features that gave a tinge of intimidating flavour. The ancient god Hades would have been jealous of his divinity. Even in these serene moments, Sherlock’s presence exhumed dominant masculinity, consuming oxygen like the fire that burnt in the mantle.

Clad in a white cotton shirt loose over his broad chest, he calmly turned a page on his book and sighed.

It was impossible not to sense her nearby. The young woman was a breeze of autumn wind: spiced yet soothing, bringing the omen of a season’s change. She tried very hard to hide her feral nature, abiding, serving, and acting polite. While she fooled everyone, including herself, he detected the brazen kiss that raged within her.

Nights were riddled by dreams of dismantling her shackles, only to bind her further to himself. And yet, every time he looked at her a loathing rage gnawed inside. To him, she was a dire trap meant to expose the thing that hid behind his mask of virtue—a reckless savage, sick with twisted desire.

It took true power to send her away. Yet, here she was, barging into his shelter to pour another drop of simmering turmoil into his already seething blood.

“Can’t sleep, Nessie?”

Vanessa jolted with a startle. His deep voice threaded tendrils of dark silk around her heart, attempting to draw it further out of her fragile ribcage. Maintaining attention on the book in his hand, Sherlock’s mouth twitched into a cold grin of respect, sensing her glare stabbing at his nape.

“You might be a mouse, but you have the stomp of an elephant.”

Forcing the book shut with a soft thud, Sherlock turned his head aside, daring to catch a glimpse of her. His pretentious smile died, and a surge of passion seized at his groin. Like the virgin Persephone, she stood before him wrapped in a sheer nightgown, the creamy fabric barely hiding her delicacies. A mystic glow of sweet honey and amber gold rimmed her flesh, kissing down her clavicles and leading his enslaved gaze to the soft heaps at her chest.

By courtesy, he should have looked away, but the wish to incinerate the silken threads that retained whatever left of her modesty whispered in his ear like a little devil that sat on his shoulder. It was cruel of her to provoke him like this.

Quirking an eyebrow with disdain, he finally battled the sight away.

“Something ails you, girl.” Sherlock’s rich baritone dropped. Touching the pipe to his maw, he took a long whiff and suckled his lip. “You seem unnecessarily emotional,” he noted dryly, pretending as if her appearance was a mystery.

Noticing the uncaring shift in his tone, she scowled and stepped carefully into the room. Placing the lamp on a nearby stand, she purposely stepped into his line of sight and looked at the frowning detective with the feral wilderness growing inside her chest.

“You’re sending me away tomorrow,” an unmistakable hint of rage seeped between the cracks in her voice. Grasping her knuckles, she began striding back and forth across the Parisian rug as if lost in her own musings, “why? What have I done to you?”

A small huff escaped his nose, and he rubbed a finger beneath his bottom lip. His patience spread thin as the young lady scurried about with hysteria. The mere idea of bending her over and teaching her some discipline caused the fabric of his trousers to stretch over his engorging desire.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, it was simply my decision.” He answered, striving to sound neutral and remorseless. “A lady’s maid without a lady is useless in a place like this. But now, Vanessa, it’s late, and I’d like to get back to my book. No reason for you to stand here in your... undergarments.”  

Lips agape and feet nearly colliding on to one another, Vanessa paused on her steps. His words crept a chill down the length of her spine, making her cheeks blaze. Passionate and irrational, she never even noticed her lack of chastity when she left her room.

“I… didn’t think much, I was upset…”

‘Of course, she didn’t think much. Irrational, savage thing.’

A string twitched in Sherlock’s cheek, and a dark errant lock fell rogue upon his pale temple as he turned his head aside, adamant to brush her away. His self-restraint was but a delicate, dying leaf, hanging by its last yellowing strand.

“I came here to ask you to…”

“I’m afraid it’s not negotiable.” Sherlock interrupted and swatted his hand flat on the leather binding. His stern glance floated out the window, focusing on a large spider that threaded lines of silver amidst the peeling frames. “You will find a new job in London, a better house,” he apprised and took a deep inhale, turning the book over to open it where he paused. “Now please leave before we’ll both hurt one another.”

‘Before I will pierce cavities in your soft flesh.’

Stunned by his dismissive, arctic demeanour, her stubbornness and frustration only grew to monstrous proportions. With clenched fists and water pooling at her lids, she grunted and took a courageous step closer, standing at the fore of his couch while shaking her head.

“No!”

“No!?” he scowled, eyebrows lowering with dismay. “You forget your place, woman.” He flashed her a quick warning look, his icy glare tinted midnight black as he stood at his wit’s end.

If only it didn’t make her heart shrivel with wanton. Their proximity perilously close, Sherlock’s strong scent pervaded into her lungs: a musky blend of whiskey, leather, and fine tobacco that made her thighs wobble. Before she could even register what’s happening, her knees were brushing the thick carpet, her decorum and dignity gone.

“I want to stay here. With you.”  Slender like stalking vines, her fingers crawled onto the armchair, squeezing at the smooth leather with pitiable desperation.

“Keep me, please!”

“Vanessa,” Sherlock drawled, still refusing to meet her gaze while his thumb circled deep into the coarse binding. Furious tides rose in his eyes, whisked by the rageful storm that inhabited his mind, “Do not make me regret this night.”

He didn’t want to hurt her, but she was pretty when she begged.

“You don’t know what it is that you’re asking, I am not the gentleman you think I am.”

Ignoring his warning, she insisted. Daring, needy talons rose from the armchair to claw at his arm, clutching it with demand. Even through barriers, a surge flushed between their bodies.

“Sherlock,” she half-whispered, crystal droplets of sadness gliding down the smooth slope of her cheeks. Not caring the least as they dribbled onto the soft sleeve of his shirt, leaving tiny stains that dampened his arm.

“Guide me, teach me, make me yours!”

Nostrils flaring and breath rigid, the large man finally snapped his stare at her with the sanguine hunger of a starved vampire. The mask of his virtue fell shattering to the floor, and a harrowing silence took over the room, diffused only by the sound of crackling embers and Vanessa’s shaky breath.

“Remember this tomorrow when you’re raw and hurting; this is what your begging bought you, little Nessie.”

A strangled gasp died at her sternum as his hand suddenly grasped her throat. With a quick yank, she was up on her feet, her toes barely scraping the ground as the hulking man held her up to his face.

“Oh the things I’ll do to you..” he whispered as his thumb dug deep onto her cheek and the rest of his fingers etched at her throat.

Swinging on his boots, he swept her across the silent halls. His stride a dark ceremonial gyrate, the creamy fabric of her pristine nightgown floating mid-air like a sheer tongue of white morning mist.  

“I will make you mine as you begged,” he rasped barbarically, one hand pushing the door open while the other held her attached to his chest, “I will teach you what you asked…” his lips brushed her ear, his breath hot over her cheek, “your first lesson begins... in my bed.”

With a swift shove, she was forced into his realm. Feet stumbling upon the tepid wooden floor, her ears throbbed with shock. Her hands reached to grasp onto the engraved bed column to prevent herself from falling.

His bedroom smelled of dying roses and smoked wicks, echoing the putrid decadence that gnawed at Sherlock’s mind. A dozen melting candles burned in every secluded corner, their little orange tongues licking the reflection of a sizable mirror that stood opposite of his large bed.

A dull metallic click broke the air, followed by Vanessa’s sputtering breath as she saw him lock the door. Her faith sealed - now caged in the lair of the beast. Reduced to his own shimmering shadow, Sherlock advanced toward her, ripping his shirt off.

Fingers biting into the wooden pole, Vanessa stared, unable to determine if it was a man or a lycan god who stood before her. Every breath made his bare torso look menacing. Under the deep dusky twilight, his muscles curved and stretched, coated by a virile, dark fur.

Curious, her gaze followed the striking veins and the trail of unkempt hair that paved its way down his fine abdomen and disappeared beneath his trousers. Guiding to that which she feared and wanted at once.

Eyes of blue flame shone with absent remorse, brows arched with a pretentious demeanour as he reached a hand to seize her to him. “Your innocence dies here tonight,” he hissed in her ear, “from now on, you’ll be my little whore to plough as I please.”

The air died in her lungs as his firm chest collided with hers and his knee forced her legs apart. Bulging and muscular, his thigh rose to brush at her clit, the thin fabrics a shy barrier.

Shuddering, she swallowed hard in a dire battle to find her voice. “I will be whatever you need me to be,” she retorted as the thought of being exploited by her master released fluttering butterflies of fear and excitement in her chest.

Sherlock smirked and captured her jaw between his finger and thumb as he leaned in. Torrid lips hovered over her own, offering a phantom kiss to distract her from the greedy fingers that pushed the sleeves of the gown off her shoulders.

Like warm milk it poured down her body, exposing her delicacies to the night and to the gluttonous hands that kneaded her breasts while he flicked his tongue over her closed mouth, tasting the plumpness of her lips.

A true creature of the underworld, Sherlock’s touch was cruel like his promises; he took as he pleased, leaving his sigil seething on her skin. Her sputtering gasps served as an opportunity to invade her hot cavern. The detective’s kiss was even more ruthless, his tongue smooth as silk seized and conquered her breath.

She could feel him streaming in her blood, tasting him all the way down through her gut. Dark and intoxicating like poisonous absinthe, the promise of death swung amidst their hot, serpent-like dance.

Yet she only yearned to drink to her demise.

As if under a stupor, she swayed to his spells, bucking her hips to ground herself on the meat of his thigh, leaving the coarse fabric wet with sticky arousal. A condescending grin tugged at his lips, and his hand rushed to the back of her head, weaving through her hair and yanking her back.

“Already the wanton harlot,” he spat, swiftly turning her over and holding her against his chest. “Look at yourself,” he growled hoarsely in her ear, forcing her doe eyes to stare at their reflection. Sherlock rested his dimpled chin on the top of her head with his brows lowered like an apex predator examining his prey.

His hand disappeared behind, hastily fumbling with his trousers, “You wanted me to show you, you want to see,” he called as his trousers piled at his feet and he carefully stepped out.

Something hefty and hard nudged at the small of her back, turning her veins into thin tendrils of ice. Abysmal panic coiled at her gut at the realisation that Sherlock meant to reshape her as the vessel of his primal urge.

Hand snaking around her belly, he snatched her to fall back onto the mattress with him pillowing her fall. Her firm buttocks slid across his hairy abdomen, hands fumbling to grasp his thick thighs while her eyes flared at the sight of his hardened cock displayed in front of her in its full generous size.

It was nothing like the medical illustrations she saw in books: bulging tendons swerved across an imposing, meaty rod. Ridges rippled across its girth like soft silk, and the heart-shaped head dripped of glistening, pearly arousal.

Curious, her trembling hand wandered to feel him, stunned by the liquid-like texture that engulfed the absurd rigidness. By order of her touch, he twitched and swelled, causing the radiating heat at the apex of her groin to palpitate.

Pressing his lips to the shell of her ear, Sherlock growled, “Do you like what you see, little one?”

His taut hands reached to grasp her thighs, spreading her wide over each of his legs and holding them apart to expose her untouched sleek at the mirror. The thundering in his throat was nothing but animalistic as he glowered at her perfect sight: his little Nessie, his little untainted flower blooming fresh with dew, yearning to be plucked.

“Look at yourself,” Sherlock demanded with a whisper drenched of fervour. His coarse hand dragged to capture her chin and forced her to face the salacious spectacle reflected before them. Her breath shuddered; she saw their skin mapped onto one another, their bodies entangled and their souls unmasked.

How could something so forbidden be so beautiful?

“I dwell in the darkness, Vanessa.” Sherlock explained, his voice stroking her temple as his lips inched closer, “You must know that, you must have me as I am.”

He laved his tongue over her cheek as if he was tasting the sweetest delicacy and reached for his erection, stroking the pulsating girth between his fingers. Eyes still glued to their likeness on the glossy surface, she glanced as he pressed his pink, meaty tip between her dripping petals.

“Watch as I take something from you that can never be given back, something that will forever belong to me.”

“Sherl….”

His name died on her tongue, the moment forever lost in a loud shriek. Savagely and unceremoniously, he pried her virginal cunt open the way a predator rips at its prey’s throat. His massive shaft tore through her purity with no resistance to fight back against his brutal invasion.  

Pain rattled its way through her entire entity while the dark spectacle of the loss of her innocence played right in front of her eyes, spurring grievous tears. Lost to the bliss of her warm cavern, Sherlock chanted in loud groans, continuing to force himself all the way between her squeezing walls. Remorseless of her cries, he never stopped until every hollow inch inside her was full of his cock and his sac smacked against her stuffed opening.

“My! You feel good!” He panted with astonishment, his virility twitching within the lush sanctuary between her thighs. Noxious pride flowed in his veins at the reflection of the naked young girl, spread open with him inside her.

“Do you like having me inside you, my little harlot?”

“God!” Vanessa screamed, stunned by the sensation of him swelling at her core. His invasion seared, her legs trembled against his in a plea to be kept together. But he only stretched her wider, hooking both hands below her thighs.

“It will feel good in a little while,” he promised and slowly shifted his hips back. Inch by inch, his cock slid out of her now defiled slit, coated by blood and a sheer layer of arousal. It was something of decadent theatrics; his broad chest puffed against her spine, a blissful hum leaving his bobbing throat at the image of the crimson stain that decorated his sword.

“From this moment and beyond, this belongs to me,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck and planting wicked, butterfly kisses along the tender slope, “do you understand? Your little cunny is my property, your moans, your pleasure, all belong to me.”

Her cunt clenched around nothing as she watched his full length slipping out, tainted by broken purity, the empty void leaving pure urgency to course through her tendons. Hopeless for something she couldn’t even recognise, she whined and writhed on top of him. Her eyes levitated from their sexes to meet his icy glare.

“Sherlock, please, more! Please put yourself back inside me!!!”

“Fuck!” Sherlock rasped in awe of her wanton, his control nearly lapsed. Fingers digging into her thighs, he undulated his hips and pulled her down the length of his throbbing erection. Low melodies of pleasure rolled on his tongue as her wet cunt pressed around him again.

Gawking at the mirror, she nearly fell apart in his arms, cries of daze escaped her as Sherlock's drove back into her sleek. Every bit of his flesh unfolding hers, disappearing within her body to defy the loneliness aching in her cove until his entire shaft was lost in her depth and the tip of his cock hit something lush and tender. She could have sworn she felt him waver deep in her gut.

“Sherlock!!!” she cried, shutting her eyes at the sharp twinge that shuddered through her core.

“Don’t you dare close those eyes, dove,” he warned, and the authority in his voice left her no choice but to obey. Wickedly, his fingers slithered to the little nub of flesh above her slit and ruthlessly tugged at it to expose more of her battered sex. He continued to pound into her mercilessly, quickening the rhythm with each one of his thrusts.

“Look at you, taking me so obediently. Perhaps I was wrong about you, perhaps you are easily tamed.”

The thick bones of his hips crashed into her rump vigorously, his girth violently splitting her protesting walls. He was fast, wet, and hard inside her, his cock drilling into her over and over, every plunge stripping more layers of her soul and pushing her higher toward the heavens.

Enslaved to the beguiling aphrodisiac, she squirmed on top of him, her body beginning to push down to meet every thrust. The vision of herself being brutally taken by the large, civilised beast made the blood pool at the seams of her womanhood and tingle with frustration.

A shuddering quake began to spread within her, spiralling out in a sequence of spasms sourced at the spot where they connected. Bliss and ecstasy shattered her body and a sudden flush of pleasure exploded through her body as she came all over his cock.

Engulfed in her milking cunt, Sherlock could hardly believe what beheld his eyes. His beautiful nymph, coming undone around him, ethereal and divine. Her blissful chants a song to his ears only, she was like dryad humming a hymn to call upon a lonesome hunter.

“‘My Vanessa, I wanted you for so long.” He called, fucking her wildly through her orgasm. “Tell me you want me to come inside you,” he choked out on his grunts, her sugary walls closing around his thickness like a predatory flower, demanding to suckle his sweet elixir.

Still riding her climax, she shook her head, hesitant of speaking such profanities. But the stern glower on Sherlock’s face instantly forced her into submission.

“I want you to come … come inside me!” She panted and then screamed as another wave of intense rapture swept her away.

Her squeezing cunt forced the thick stream to vibrated through his shaft, making him drill into her with zeal. His fingers clutched her waist as he slammed her down onto his swollen cock, burying himself the deepest he could. Vanessa yipped as something hot sprouted into her, flooding her womb like a soothing kiss that slowly began trickling between their tight flesh.

Still locked in an embrace, they shivered together. Soft maple hues glimmered over their wet skin, their bodies heaving against one another while a symphony of pants and gasps filled the silence.

Sherlock’s glaciers sought to capture her reflection, a dark, brooding look on his sweat-silken face while his lips ghosted over her shoulder. There was no question in the rough expression of his face.

Nothing spoke louder than the possessiveness that pierced through the sharp reflection.

~*~

A tender stream of sunshower kissed her lids awake. The cerulean sky winked at her through the open window while her senses gingerly regained their functions after what felt like graveyard slumber. Finding herself alone, she wondered for a moment if the night before was only a fantasy; but this bed was too soft and far too large, and the sensation of shame licking between her thighs told her otherwise.

Even in his absence, Sherlock’s presence lingered. His pungent sweat layered on her skin, and from her torn seal trickled the pearly, forbidden essence of his loins. She allowed herself a moment of coy bliss, pressing her lips upon her bare shoulder to kiss the taste of him off her flesh when the thud of inching footsteps and creaking wood made her sit up with fright as if her presence was forbidden.

Huddling the blankets around her chest, she gulped as the door flung open.

Already dressed in a clean shirt, a vest of golden brown, and a long black jacket, the hulking man offered her a small wrinkle on his brow. Fine silks were folded on his forearm, and his eyes fell upon the naked beauty in his bed. A shadow of dark desire danced upon his slanted smirk as he noticed the little inkling of dry blood on the edge of the mattress.

“Slept well, my little Nessie?” He asked, passing a finger over his neatly combed locks before gesturing for her to approach him. Obedient as ever, his little servant quickly climbed out, immediately regretting her haste as a spear split through her core. With jolting legs, she swallowed her discomfort and approached him with her head lowered to the floor.

“No, we will have none of this,” Sherlock chided, his finger stalking beneath her chin to fix her stare on his. Their gazes met for a shy second and then he stepped back, unfolding the fabrics held beneath his arm.

A waterfall of black and crimson flowed down, hanging from his hands.

Vanessa’s eyes rounded with wonder; being a woman of lower status, she never owned anything as beautiful and expensive as the dress he held before her.

“Lift your arms, dove,” Sherlock commanded and she did as he bid.

The soft fabrics felt like warm liquid washing over her skin as Sherlock carefully slipped the dress over her head. His hands smoothly roamed her body, tugging at the delicate fabric to fit over her figure. The tall detective stepped to stand at her back and began working the laces of the corset embedded into the gown.

One by one, he tightened the silk binds as he pulled at the laces. Vanessa slightly hissed when her breasts squished against the generous cleavage.

“Forgive me,” Sherlock mumbled as he heard her distress, “I am not used to such… arrangements.”

“Arrangements?” she asked naively, though it quickly dawned on her that her dear master never had a wife or a mistress, which didn’t come much as a surprise after witnessing his bohemian desires the night before. And yet, no regret touched her heart as Sherlock pressed his hand over her torso and perched his chin atop her head once again.

“Look at us.” His lustrous eyes carried to the mirror, guiding hers to follow as he stroked his hand lower to flatten the folds of her dress and pushed her hair over her shoulders with the other.

“Don’t we make a pair?”

Glancing forward, Vanessa took a deep inhale. Crimson and black were unusually beautiful as they graced her figure. The rim of the cleavage was beaded with fine black jewels that gave her appearance an elegant, yet erotic flavour.

Taken by her new design, she allowed herself to be swallowed into Sherlock’s beautiful darkness.

She wouldn’t have him without it.

___________________________________

Additional notes: I don’t own Sherlock Holmes or Enola Holmes franchise. Thanks to @wondersofdreaming  @wolvesandhoundshowltogether and @sapphirescrolls for moral support. 

[imagine-docx]

scent market

Summary: Wanda stumbles upon this tiny gem of a candle shop. Does she keep going back because of the amazing scent range? Or is it because of the cute shopkeeper?

Warnings: None.

A/N: i apologize for being mia. university has been killing me, and i have had zero time to write because i am busy pulling essays outta no where. please enjoy a minor comeback! - amanda 💛

⚛》》》》》◆《《《《《⚛

Everyone knows that Wanda Maximoff is the biggest candle consumer ever. Something about the warmth of the candle and the scent that follows, just seems to make everything better. 

It was one of the rare days that Wanda had off, and decided to go to one of her favourite parks in New York, Prospect Park. 

On her way out, Wanda was walking down Empire Avenue and was automatically drawn to this small candle shop. The exterior automatically had this warm aura to it. The open glass windows gave Wanda the opportunity to look in, and it screamed ‘home’ to her. 

Wanda opened the door to the tiny shop, upon her arrival a little bell dinged and she was greeted with soft radio pop and a heavy peach scent.

“Hi there! Welcome to Scent Market! Let me know if you need any help!” She heard a voice beam out from the corner.

Wanda turned her head to the corner to track the sound, and was blown away. You had to be the most breathtaking woman she has ever seen. Yet you were only wearing a pair of ripped jeans, a form fitting long sleeved shirt, and a pair of sneakers. “Hi,” Wanda managed to shyly get out.

You smiled at Wanda, and Wanda swore she resembled melting candle wax. Wanda looked around the tiny shop, grabbing some candles and smelling it as she went. But she still kept an eye on you out of the corner of her eye.

It seemed as if you were either doing inventory, or were picking out orders. As Wanda turned herself back to the candle that was marked as Frozen Margarita. The hints of citrus, and melon jumped out at her. “If you like that one, I definitely do recommend the Citrus Splash,” you said coming up to her. “Less lemon and lime, more orange.”

“That sounds up my alley,” Wanda laughed, “Can I see it?”

You let out another smile towards her and she swears she never felt that much warmth from someone, “Of course, follow me.”

You handed Wanda an orange candle encased in a glass jar, she took the top off and smelt it, “This is wonderful. I also want to know which scent do you currently have burning?” Wanda asked, while smelling the candle.

“Oh that’s Peach Sugar Kiss! Here lemme get it for you,” you responded, before going to the fixture next to Citrus Splash.

“Are these handmade?” Wanda asked, taking the Peach Sugar Kiss from you.

“Yes they are, they are soy candle wax with essential oils mixed in,” you responded.

“Wow, you must be super talented,” Wanda said looking at the Tropical Mango candle, while looking at you.

You let out a giggle, and Wanda swore that as time passed she would melt even more, “No, that’s my business partner Trish. She makes them, I sell them. Unstoppable duo, you know?”

Wanda smiled at her giggle, “Ah so you’re the brains.”

You chuckled, “Pretty much.”

You and Wanda walked around the store, with you recommending different candles, her smelling them, and you both basking in each other’s company. Upon doing a lap around the whole store, you turned to her, “Is that it for today?”

“I guess so,” Wanda said, placing the Citrus Splash, Peach Sugar Kiss, and Apple Blossom candle on the counter.

“Lemme get that rung up for you,” you smiled.

As you were cashing Wanda out, you two continued to crack jokes. You wrapped the candles in a light peach wrapping paper, and into a black bag. “See you around?” You asked.

“With candles like these? You will be seeing me more often,” Wanda said, smiling.

“Have a good day!” You called out, as Wanda was leaving. 

⚛》》》》》◆《《《《《⚛

It was almost like clock work. Wanda would buy a single candle every time she goes, burn it until there is nothing left, and she would be back at the shop. 

“So is there a reason today we’re burning,” Natasha squinted to read the candle, “Apple Blossom? What happened to Blooming Berry?”

“I finished it,” Wanda nonchalantly responded as she packed away her hoodies.

“Wanda, that's your 3rd candle this week.” Natasha retorted.

“What can I say? The candles are good.” Wanda responded as she packed away her jeans. 

“We all know you are a massive candle consumer, but this? This is a new level.” Natasha said, studying Wanda.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Wanda responded.

“Take me to this candle shop, I wanna see what the fuss is about.” Natasha responded.

“No!” Wanda responded too quickly, which resulted in a raised eyebrow from Natasha, “I mean, no they’re closed right now. I’ll take you when they are open.”

⚛》》》》》◆《《《《《⚛

Wanda forgot how serious Natasha is, as Natasha held her to taking her to the candle shop. The two were walking to the shop, and the pair stopped in front of it, “It looks cozy, now I know why you like it.” 

Wanda let out a small sigh of relief, that Natasha thinks it’s because of the aura the shop gives off. Upon the two walking into the shop, they were greeted with a, “Hi! Welcome to Scent Market!” You beamed from the back, which Wanda naturally returned with a smile. 

“I’m back!” Wanda announced, to which you now smiled at.

“Welcome back Wands, we got some new candles for you to try out,” you said, coming up to the duo. “Hi there,” you smiled at Natasha as you introduced yourself to her.

“I’m Natasha, Wanda’s best friend,” she said, shaking her hand. “I gotta know, do you have more fresh scents? Wanda keeps burning fruits, and I’m kinda getting tired.”

“You are just a downer, you don’t like cutesy smells.” Wanda stuck her tongue out.

“Lucky for you and your sanity, we do,” you chuckled, “Are there certain scents you like?”

“I just want to feel like I spent the entire day cleaning, and there’s that after scent,” Natasha responded.

“I got a good one for you,” you walked over to the fixture, “Lakeside Waters. Smells kinda like the ocean, some driftwood, and minor hints of orange.”

Natasha took the candle from you and took a small inhale, “The orange is very minimal, I like this, do you have anymore?”

You took Natasha around the store and showed her similar scents to Lakeside Waters. Natasha holding onto the scents that she loves the most.

Majority would be pissed off at how easily the two of them bond, but not to Wanda. She was in awe that you managed to mesh in with them so easily.

You managed to introduce Natasha to Lakeside Waters, Sugared Lemonade, and Eucalyptus Spearmint. Whereas Wanda got Raspberry Mimosa, just so she has a reason to keep going back to the shop.

As you were cashing them out, you continued to crack jokes with the two of them. You were walking them to the door, “So Wands, will I see you soon?” You smiled.

Wanda instantly let out a goofy smile, “Of course. I’ll make sure to leave Natasha at home.”

“I’m offended,” Natasha feigned offence.

“Don’t worry, you’re always welcomed back,” you smiled at the duo.

The three of you bid your goodbyes, you walked to the desk and bit a small corner of your lip trying to hide your giddiness.

On the other hand, the moment Natasha and Wanda left the shop, Natasha let out a, “No wonder you keep going back to this candle shop.”

⚛》》》》》◆《《《《《⚛

Of course Wanda hit the bottom on Raspberry Mimosa within two and a half days of getting it. Which prompted her to return back to Scent Market. Every time she walked in, she felt as if she was greeted the first time, “Wanda!” You called out.

Wanda instantly smiled at the sound of your voice, “Raspberry Mimosa was amazing. Do you have any others?”

“I’m running low on options to give you Wands,” you joked.

“I might have to go and try something sweet next.” Wanda responded, following you to the fixture.

“We got everything you could possibly need,” you reached for the Peach Bellini candle, “ I know you like peach a lot, so tada, Peach Bellini; white peach, prosecco, and a hint of orange.”

“You got my scent notes down, huh?” Wanda said, amazed at the detail that you pay attention to her.

“Of course. I gotta make sure I have my favourite clients scent list noted,” you smiled, as you took her to the front to cash her out.

“I feel honoured,” Wanda said, pulling out her wallet.

The two of you continued to joke, while you cashed Wanda out. Every moment that passes, she feels more and more drawn to you. Wanda knew that when she got home she would have to try and work out a way to ask you out, but until then she would bask in your companionship. 

⚛》》》》》◆《《《《《⚛

That night Wanda sat at her desk, pen and notepad in front of her, trying to come up with ideas to go about asking you out. Each idea was futile. 

She reached for her phone to call Natasha over for some help, but remembered she was out with Clint for their weekly dinner. Wanda groaned, and ran her fingers through her hair. She leaned back, struggling to come up with ideas.

Wanda decided that maybe burning the candle she got today would help flow her ideas. She opened the tiny black bag, and to her surprise, there was a second candle. 

Wanda cautiously took the candle out of the bag and noticed a heart sticker rather than your usual clear tape. She gently unravelled it, to reveal a beautiful peach coloured candle with no label.

She was confused. Opening the candle she saw a piece of paper, she gently placed it on her desk and continued to smell the candle; heavy on the peach, light vanilla notes. She smiled and picked up the note.

Wanda let a goofy smile escape her lips as she read the note that was signed as you.

I have no name for it yet. I call it Peach Tea and Vanilla; peach tea, vanilla creme, and some oat milk. This is a special one for you, call me sometime and we could work out a name over coffee? (XXX)-XXX-XXX

[zi-i-think]

Practicing

Pairing: Jade West x fem!reader

Rating: SFW

Word Count: 1800+

Warnings: mention of drugs

Request: no

AN: I know I’m still not done with requests, but I just really wanted to get in a Jade West oneshot. I don’t think Jade is out of character all that much, but I’d love feed back.

          Things sucked. Like. They royally sucked.

         When Beck and Jade broke up for the second time, it felt like a dark, ominous was looming over the group of talented teens. No one needed to be a genius to realize that both Jade and Beck with miserable. Not just because they were no longer together, but the breakup was emotionally draining.

         And despite it all, y/n couldn’t help but feel a little bit hopeful. She and Jade had been friends since middle school when Jade pushed a boy off his seat because he was bullying Y/n. They were pretty different. Actually very different personality-wise. Y/n was what Jade described as a hippie fairy. Which contrasted Jade’s vampire personality completely. 

         But there were just enough similarities to keep them together. Their hatred for the patriarchy. Interests in a feel-good green herb. They both started practicing Wicca together. And they were killer on the mic.

         It was a fine balance. 

         And over the years, Y/n couldn’t help but fall for the girl. Snarling personality and all. 

         She still recalls when Jade and Beck started dated. How at first she just thought she was annoyed at how Jade didn’t spend as much time with her but later realized that she was indeed feeling jealous.

         She knew it was terrible to be glad they’re no longer together, but she couldn’t help it.

         The first thing she saw when she approached her locker was the dark clothed girl waiting for her; standing cooly against the wall of lockers.

         “Morning.” Y/n greeted her with a smile. Jade hummed her greeting in response, waiting for her friend to get her things from the locker. “How you doing?” Jade sent her a glare, knowing that Y/n what trying to get her to talk about the breakup.Y/n mumbled a “nevermind” and closed the locker.

         “Do you have plans later?” Jade grumbled as the two started to walk to Sicowitz’s class.

         “Uh, yeah. I’m finishing up my script for my play.”

         “The one about the girl who turns into a dragon and then the prince who’s supposed to save her kills her on accident.”

         “That’s the one,” Y/n finger-gunner. “I’m trying to figure out how to make the finally really pull at the heartstrings.”

         “Make it gruesome,”

         “I’ll make a note of it.” 

         The class was already about to start by the time they entered and most people were engaged in their own conversations. Y/n saw Jade and Beck make eye contact. The same longing look on their faces. But stubbornness kept either of them from saying anything.

         “Hey, uh do you want to come over? Help me with the play?” Y/n asked, getting Jade’s attention again.

         “Sure. It’s not like I have any plans.” Jade shrugged before taking a seat upfront.

         Y/n smiled and took the seat next to her friend. A nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach grew as she already started to expect her friend’s arrival.

         “Good day, class!” The eccentric teacher barged into the room. “Your a pack or wolves engaged in a dance party!” He announced, prompting the teans to get up from their seats and act out the prompt.

         Knock Knock Knock

         The front door of Y/n’s house sounded. With a furrowed brow and her hair still wet, the girl opened the door revealing Jade with two coffees

         “You’re early,” Y/n stated the obvious.

         “Only cause I got bored. Now you want your coffee or not?” The dark haired girl outstretched her arm to hand her the tall cup.

         Y/n smiled appreciativly, taking the cup and stepping to the side.

         “Alright. So what does your play need?” Jade asked, already getting down to business. She walked straight to the living room and plopped herself on the blanketed couch.

         “Well, uh. It's mainly the last scene. Where the dragon turns back into a maiden and the prince realizes what he's done.” Y/n described, sitting next to Jade and grabbing the laptop from the coffee table.

         “Ah, so it’s angsty.” Jade smiles and leaned closer to Y/n to get a look at the document with the script.

         “Yeah.” Y/n’s voice cracked as she tried to compose herself over her friends close proximity. “So, I was thinking that once he realizes his mistake, he holds her close. I want him to have a monologue. Describing how he'd never get the chance to talk to her, see her, you know typical human relationship things.”

         “Alright so what's the problem?” Jade asked, not seeing why Y/n needed her there. Not that she was mad, she loved being around her. And truthfully, she missed hanging out and not having Beck in the back of her mind.

         “It just feels like it's missing something. You know.” Y/n said with a tinge of frustration in her voice. “Like. There's something that isn't making the plot complete enough for him to have that monologue. He loves her, but it doesn't feel like he does enough.”

         Without warning, Jade took the laptop from her lap.

         “I’ll read it.” she grumbled. “You go dry your hair or something.”

         “Good idea.” Y/n agreed, leaving the couch and beading back to her bathroom.

         “And order a pizza!” She heard Jade shout.

         It didn’t take long for Y/n to dry her hair and put the pizza order in. And by the time she got back into the living room, Jade was finished with reading over the script. Instead, she was now holding her new pair of scissors and examining the blades.

         “Figure anything out?” Y/n asked, getting the girl’s attention.

         “Yeah.” Jade put down the scissors and turned her body to face Y/n as she came in and sat down. “Your characters don’t kiss.”

         Y/n month dropped and she bit her bottom lip awkwardly.

         “Well, I was thinking about putting one in, but I thought it would be better if there weren’t one. Think about the symbolism behind it. Without the action, it’s expressing how the two never truly experienced being together.” She explained.

         Jade hummed and nodded as if she were understanding.

         “That’s stupid.” she said. Somehow both calmly and aggressively. Y/n furrowed her brow and tilted her head. Asking without words for Jade to go on. “Y/n the script is good, the storyline is paced well, blah blah blah. But the only thing that isn't good is the way you're presenting that they are in love. You want the audience to be heartbroken for the guy, show them that he loved her.”

         “Okay, so, where do you recommend it goes?” Y/n asked, grabbing the laptop and scrolling through.

         “Obvious. Scene 4, during the confession, I think after she falls from the tree.” Jade said. Y/n quickly went there and read it over, thinking about how to go about it.

         “You don't think it's a little fast?” Y/n asked, twisting her face as unsureness creeped into her mind.

         “Course not. You've already presented their infatuation for each other, and after that scene their relationship is already escalating more quickly. If anything it makes more sense.”

         She was right. Y/n knew it. But she couldn't shake the fact that having this discussion with Jade felt unreal. Perhaps because Y/n was crushing on her, but also because while Jade was very knowledgeable in entertainment, relationships were more of a ‘on the surface’ knowledge.

         Typing quickly the placement of the kiss, Y/n let out a heavy breath.

         “And it’s in.” She announced mainly for herself.

         “Good.” Jade nodded, now smirking at her friend. “You wanna see how it flows with the scene?”

         Y/n kept scrolling down the document to the ending, avoiding looking at the vampiresque girl.

         “Uh, ” She cleared her throat to avoid cracking her voice. “What do you mean?”

         “Well do the scene, me and you. As then you can make the final choice on whether you like it or not.” Jade explained casually.

         “Yeah, okay. We can do that.”

         Despite sounding calm and nonchalant on the outside, Y/n was screaming on the inside. Surely Jade wasn't actually intending on kissing her right? They’d work up to it and then stop, right? No kiss?

         “Cool, I'll be the guy and do you have it all memorized?” Jade started, grabbing the laptop and placing it on her lap.

         “Yep, it's all in my noggin.” Y/n knocked on her head awkwardly, receiving a disapproving look from Jade.

         “I’ll start at the beginning of the confession.” The dark haired girl announced, reading the lines. Then she looked up, right into Y/n’s eyes. “Tell me, Ayleth, do you feel what I feel.”

         “Why, I'm not quite sure what you mean, my prince.” Y/n continued, swallowing her nervousness.

         “When you look into my eyes, do you as well feel that fire? The one raging inside of your heart and coursing through you. Making you think illogically, wanting nothing more than to be consumed completely by you.”

         “One shouldn't think illogically. One must think about their duties, their-”

“That wasn't the question.” Jade acted, her usual roughness and anger dropped as she said her lines. “Do you love me?”

         “I suppose it would be unwise to try to divert the conversation.”

         “Most unwise. Especially to your prince.”

         “Well. Yes. I believe I do.”

         There was silence between the two. This was where the kiss was written. In the quiet, they both seemed to be questioning whether they would actually kiss or not. They both leaned in, slowly but surely. Y/n’s heart sped up and she wondered whether Jade was feeling the same. No, of course not. It's part of the scene. She's just acting, obviously.

         The inches between them soon turned to fractions of an inch. And their lips were so close to meeting.

         Knock knock knock.

         They were interrupted by the door. “Y/n pulled away immediately.

         “Pizza. I’ll get it.” She chuckled nervously and got up.

         “They can wait.” Jade said instead. She grabbed Y/n’s wrist and pulled her back down on the couch.

         Before Y/n knew it, Jade placed a firm kiss on Y/n’s lips. Though shocked, Y/n quickly reciprocated the kiss. Jade placed her hand on Y/n’s cheek, while the other girl’s hand went to Jade’s waist. By now, Y/n’s heartbeat was going a million miles per minute and both girls forgot about the person waiting at the door.

         Until they knocked again.

         “Give us a minute!” Jade shouted angrily before turning back to her, uh friend? Y/n was giggling at her rage over small things like that. Jade noticed not only that her dark blue lipstick had smudged onto Y/n’s face, but that she also had a deep red blush that covered her face almost completely.

         “Should we practice again?” Jade asked instead of bring it up. And when Y/n nodded, she didn’t waste another second to lean in again, kissing her with more depth than the one before.

[jamespotterthefirst]

Flirt (Ethan x f!MC)

Book: Open Heart, Book 2 Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 1.1K Premise: Who would have thought that Ethan Ramsey would one day follow Bryce Lahela's romantic advice?

Author’s Note: This takes place in book 2, sometime after the attack and before the gala when Ethan and MC are in a secret relationship. Thank you anon for the request (sorry it's so late!). Thank you @aestheticartsx for the ideas!

The beginning notes of Lahela's playlist resound around the otherwise empty gym. With a groan, Ethan releases the heavy weights, the clashing metal serving as a glorious reprieve from the electronic, fast beat of the music. From beside him, the newest member of their workout entourage groans as well, with as much disdain as Ethan. He feels a surge of vindication at the fact that, though they may disagree on music preferences most of the time, they can at least agree on this.

“Bryce,” Lilac calls out over the song. Her voice fails to carry over the music and over the sound of Lahela’s sneakers hitting the belt of the treadmill. “You’re welcome to torture yourself on that treadmill but don’t torture us too with your awful music.”

Ethan fights back a grin at the quip. Lahela, meanwhile, clutches his heart with exaggerated flare.

“Ouch, Lil. You wound me.” He punches a few buttons on the dashboard, bringing the machine to a much slower pace. In spite of the exertion, his smile remains as charming as ever, not a hair on his head out of place. “I’ll have you know this is beast mode music. It’s a running remix created at 150 BPM to optimize performance—”

“It’s overproduced garbage.” Ethan interrupts the impassioned speech.

“It’s Ice, Ice Baby,” Lilac adds.

Despite himself, Ethan snorts, which in turn elicits a lovely bout of laughter from her. He sobers up at once, too preoccupied with watching how her attractive features light up the entire room. A second too late, Ethan realizes he is gaping at her, like some kind of moron.

To his dismay, the surgeon catches this. Then again, how could he not when Ethan must have looked like an entranced imbecile gawking at her. Luckily, Lahela doesn’t comment, instead choosing to hop off the treadmill with impressive agility.

“If I would have known you two would gang up on me, I would have never invited you, Lil.”

“That’s the reason you invited me and you know it,” she returns with easy charm. “To keep you two on your toes.”

Her eyes swivel to Ethan’s and his stomach swoops pleasantly.

“As fun as this has been, I have to go stretch. I have a kink in my back I really want to get out.” She announces this quite suddenly and with a rather enthralling sway of her ponytail. She turns to go, giving Ethan a deliberate view of her curves in the colorful leggings she wears. Before she makes it further than a few steps, however, she glances at Ethan over her shoulder. “I might need some help getting it out.”

Those green eyes he dreams about on most nights are heavy on his, shining bright with promise under a fringe of dark lashes. Ethan’s throat feels suddenly very dry.

“A colleague of mine is a chiropractor,” he blurts out. “I can give you his contact information if it's a persisting problem.”

Lilac's smile falters imperceptibly, nodding once before moving to the mats and out of earshot. Ethan can't help but notice there is less enthusiasm in her gait as she goes.

From beside him, Bryce lets out a low whistle.

“What?” Ethan asks, unable to keep the edge off his tone.

Bryce takes it in good stride, laughing. “You're so lucky she's already crazy about you.”

“She's—” Ethan pauses to collect the jumble of thoughts in his consciousness. His heart, meanwhile, beats with such ferocity, he can feel the echoes of his pulse in his throat. “What makes you— I can't imagine what you mean.”

The young surgeon mops the sweat off his brow with a towel, laughing. “Lilac was totally flirting with you just now.”

“She was?”

“She wasn't exactly subtle.”

Ethan cringes internally as his mind replays that encounter and his less than stellar reply.

“And all you did in return was offer to set her up with your chiro friend?”

It sounds worse when someone repeats it out loud, Ethan realizes.

“You do know chiropractors are the most attractive doctors? Aside from surgeons, of course.”

It is the most ridiculous claim Ethan has ever heard. Yet, he pauses.

“Lilac complained about her back. She could be misaligned…”

The incredulous look Bryce stabs him with makes him stop talking.

“What was I supposed to do?”

“Offer to help her stretch?” Bryce offers as though it is the most obvious alternative imaginable. “Or better yet, offer to make it worse.”

Ethan opens his mouth to voice his confusion, but his mind catches the innuendo belatedly.

“Whatever you do, do it with confidence.”

As Ethan stands there, glancing at Lilac gracefully stretching a distance away, he is hit with the ridiculousness of the situation.

For starters, Ethan and Lilac are already in somewhat of an unofficial relationship. They haven't exactly defined it yet, but given that she spends most of her free time over at his place and steals kisses from him when no one is watching, Ethan is confident they are an item. It shouldn't be surprising that she is attracted to him, but somehow, Ethan finds himself unable to believe he'd ever be so lucky.

Also disconcerting is the fact that Ethan is receiving flirting advice from Bryce Lahela himself. The worst part is that said advice is sounding pretty reasonable to Ethan at that very moment.

“However you decide to play it, you better go do it now.” Bryce glances at the digital clock mounted in the wall. “Those guys from ICU always start their workout at six and that's in like ten minutes.”

With renewed confidence, Ethan starts towards Lilac. As a worrying thought occurs to him, however, he halts, frowning at Bryce.

“About Lilac and I,” he begins, but the surgeon is already shaking his head, grinning wide.

“Don't worry, Dr. Ramsey. My lips are sealed.” He follows this proclamation by pantomiming closing a zipper over his lips. “Plus, I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who's noticed you two pining for each other.”

“Sienna knows.”

This actually elicits genuine shock from him, which is as comical as it is uncharacteristic.

 “She never told me. I can’t believe she never said a word,” he says, already throwing on a shirt and heading for the exit, as though determined to find the tiny doctor and demand more information.

After he vanishes, Ethan moves over to Lilac, stopping at the foot of her mat. She is attempting to do a complicated maneuver with an arched back and tangled limbs. Despite her evident struggle, Ethan watches her fondly, thinking her the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

“How's your back?”

“Stiff,” she returns, giving up on the stretch and getting to her feet. “Are you referring me to your friend?”

They are alone. Ethan celebrates that fact by wrapping his arms around her, her back pressing pleasantly against his chest.

“Not a chance in hell.”

She laughs. “So you've decided to help me after all?”

“I could,” he murmurs darkly into the shell of her ear, his hands gripping her spandex clad hips. His voice dropping lower still, he says, “Though what I have in mind might blow it out instead.”

“Ethan!”

Lilac quivers in his arms, twirling around to face him when she recovers. She gives him a surprised yet impressed look before her eyes darken.

“That was…” She trails off and Ethan is pleased to see her blushing. The way she kisses him in response, hungry and hard, forces Ethan to admit that the scalpel jockey's advice had been correct after all.

*Sorry again, anon! This is over five months late.

Anon is referring to this post.

Thank you so much for reading this!

*Tagging separately!

[hello-everyfandom]

“On my heart, Love.”

Warnings: N/A

Pairing: James Potter x Reader

Words: 2k

Summary: You’re tutoring Peter in Herbology and James loves to distract you.

(Enjoy! A little James Potter heals all wounds)

James Potter was widely known, across the grounds of Hogwarts, to be quite arrogant and rather self-absorbed. In classes he was the student who sat in the back making snarky comments back to the Professor and the student who, along with his friends, were quite mischievous. It seemed that James Potter had quite a large head, being quite popular as well as star Chaser for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. So, by the time you were appointed to tutor Peter Pettigrew on Herbology, you were fully aware of the presence of Mr. James Potter. It was quite frequent that Peter’s friends interrupted study sessions and you, sadly, had gotten used to the presence of James’ big head.

“Peter,” you sighed, “You really must focus, and I do not say this as your tutor who wants you to do well, but literally because if you do not study these plants and you could actually die in class.”

Peter, who sat next to you, groaned loudly, “But why!” Peter whined making you snicker.

“Why!!” you mocked him in a childish voice, “Because if you aren’t careful in dissecting and are too busy staring at the butterflies, a Venomous Tentacula will snap it’s jaws at you and well...” you clicked your tongue, “I’m afraid you fresh out of luck then.”

Peter sat up and grinned, “You know what?”

“What?” you responded,

“You may be the cruelest Ravenclaw I’ve ever met.” 

“Peter,” you pretended to coo, “that is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

Peter held his hands up, “I tell the truth and nothing but the truth.”

You snorted, “Yeah, right.”

As the two of you continued to read through the textbook, Peter took notes on exactly what you said. It was peaceful studying until you heard two heavy footsteps marching towards you. 

“Wormtail!” Sirius Black emerged. He flopped onto the bench next to Peter and slung his arm around him. “What the bloody hell are you doing here?”

“Taking the intellectual advantage of this poor lady, here.” James Potter answered his friend, pulling the chair next to you out abruptly. 

“Learning about Venomous Tentacula,” Peter shoved Sirius Black’s hand away from his notes. 

“And Remus can’t teach you this hub-bub?” Sirius raised his eyebrow. Peter shook his head.

“Absolutely not. Y/N is the best there is.”

James cocked his head. “Is that so? She’s the best there is in...” he paused to look at the cover of your textbook, “Herbology?”

You were quick in response, “She sure is. And, now that it has been mentioned, she is also quite skilled in the art of jinxes and hexes. Though my word may not be enough to suffice, would you prefer to see an example?”

Your voice was cool but the threat of making James Potter’s fingers into feathers and his nose into a beak was quite prominent. Sirius Black let out a bark of a laugh, holding his chest as he laughed. Peter watched amusedly as his best friend and his tutor (and admittedly also his friend) began to bicker.

“Alright, alright,” James grinned back, “Y/L/N, you’ve won. Don’t unleash your wrath onto poor me.”

“Yes, Y/L/N,” Sirius added, “I’m not sure he could take the humiliation.”

Peter nodded and continued to tease, “His ego is too fragile, like a little teacup.”

“You know what,” James defended, “You’re all pricks, and the only one I respect here is Y/L/N, purely because she knows how to properly articulate an insult.”

“Insult?” you grinned, “You are not worth my time to insult, love. Think of my teasing to be nothing but a mere brain exercise.”

James Potter bit his lip to hold back a smile, “I love nothing more than to be considered a brain exercise of yours.”

Sirius groaned disgustedly, “Alright, enough with the flirting.” He stood and brushed off his trousers dramatically, “Pete, we came to announce that we are going to find the Pixies that Professor Kettleburn keeps locked away and unleash them on some first years.”

Peter immediately looked at you with little begging eyes, “Please! Please Y/N, can I go?”

“We still have to study!” you protested, “Peter, you have an exam on this tomorrow!”

“He’ll be fine!” Sirius pulled Peter up, slinging his arm around him again, “Pete’s been tutored by the best.”

“But-” before you could protest further, Sirius dragged Peter away, ruffling his hair. You sighed loudly and began to clean up the notes and textbooks that littered the table.

“Don’t worry,” James said, leaning to hand you a book, “He’ll be fine.”

You sent him a knowing look, taking the book from his hand and placing it into your bag.“It’ll be on your head if he gets a low mark.”

“I swear on my soul,” James put his hand on his heart, “If he gets a mark lower than Acceptable, I will sit here, myself, and help you tutor him.”

You let out a laugh, “As if.” 

“Swear on my heart!” James called as you walked away.

“Then I’ll see you next Thursday,” you waved your hand, not bothering to look back at him. James watched you walk away with a smile breaking his cheeks. 

That Thursday, as you expected, Peter approached the study table with James in tow. Both of the marauders held their heads low.

“So, I’m assuming-”

“Your assumption is correct.” James answered solemnly.

“I thought so. James, I assume you will be joining us then?”

“Your assumption is,” he let out a breath of sad air, “correct.”

“Wonderful.” you grinned smugly back.

From then on, James Potter attended your study sessions, never late. At first, he absentmindedly looked around the room, busy enchanting paper cranes to fly and twirling his wand to make soft swirls of colours float around. You hated it. James Potter seemed to distract you, even if he didn’t try. He always came in, smelling of grass and cologne and would always reach up to run his fingers through his hair. Sometimes, he’d crane his neck to see what you were writing or make some witty comment that received a not so subtle eye roll from you. 

You didn’t think he cared, not truly, and your blind prejudice made you begin to think James was only there because his ego would be bruised if he backed down from a promise. It was when James began to fly cranes too close to your face for your liking did you blow up.

“You know what.” you stood up, “If you are going to be a prick and distract poor Peter from his studies then you may as well not be here. No one is gaining anything by your presence,” you said rather harshly. 

You turned quickly to go to the bathroom in order to cool off. As you rubbed some water on your face, you began to feel the guilt ride up your neck. You didn’t mean to talk so grating to Potter, you were just having a rough day with your own studies and your own academic life. 

You paced back slowly to your study table feeling sorrowful and thinking of how you’d apologize to Potter. As you approached, you saw James with his arm slung over Peter. Squinting closer and making your steps quieter you could hear their hushed whispers.

“I’m going to fail,” Peter cried pathetically, his head was buried in his arms “I can’t do it, even with a tutor I am absolutely failing this god forsaken class. Maybe I should just drop out now.”  

James clicked his tongue and shook his head, “Don’t say that, Worm. You’re not doing terribly, it will just take a few moments for it to truly click.”

“But you and Remus and Sirius are all doing better-”

“Sirius has skipped at least half of his classes this year and Remus has pulled out half his hair trying to study for O.W.L.S. Really, Worm,” James said seriously, “You’re doing better than any of us combined.”

“But-”

“Wouldn’t lie to you,” James patted his back encouragingly, “Besides, Herbology is one of the hardest courses for our year.”

“Really?” Peter asked, raising his head to look at his friend.

“Really really. Now clean yourself up, don’t want Y/L/N to see you in such a state. Why don’t you go grab a snack from the kitchens?”

Peter agreed, noting that a cookie may make himself feel better, and rose to recollect himself on the way to the kitchen. He didn’t see you in the shadows, looking in surprise at both Peter and James. You had no idea Peter had thought so harshly of himself, in fact, he was steadily improving in his studies. You hugged your arms and walked towards James who was leaning backwards in his chair. He straightened up when he saw you and cleared his throat.

“You’re looking refreshed.” he commented, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

You paused before saying, “Thank you.”

“Listen-”

“Listen-” the two of you said at the same time. You both looked at each other, unable to keep a smile off of your faces. Yours was small, shy even whilst his was large and cheeky.

“You go first,” he waved his hand. 

“I wanted to apologize,” you whispered lowly, fiddling with your nails, “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I thought... well I thought-”

“Thought I was a prick?”

“Precisely,” the two of you laughed together. 

“But, seriously, I am sorry,” you acknowledged seriously.

“I am too,” James answered back, “I know it has been... less than pleasant with me being around your study dates.”

“Study period,” you corrected.

“Whatever it’s called. The truth is...” James looked around to see if Peter had miraculously appeared and let out a sigh. He ran his fingers through his hair in a stressed manner, “The truth is... Peter is a little bit embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” you asked incredulously.

“He feels as though he isn’t doing as well as he should... and I... well, I attend your study sessions to cheer him up a bit.”

“Oh.” you mumbled.

“And, I-” James seemed to struggle a bit trying to find his word, “I suppose I try and distract you so Peter doesn’t feel like all the attention is on him.”

“Oh.”

It grew quiet between you two. James stared at you, scratching the back of his neck nervously. You bit your cheek, wondering what you could say.

“But-”

“But?” you interrupted.

“But... that doesn’t mean... I don’t want to come.”

“Oh?” your voiced curiously.

“I mean,” he laughed, almost a little embarrassedly, “I guess I come for Peter, but I also come... for you?” he trailed off quieter and quieter, blushing a bit.

“For me?”

James glanced at you. He saw your smile, one he had grown to love. “Yes.” 

“Oh.”

“Is that all you can say? ‘Oh’?” James mocked lightly. You shoved his arm and he acted as if he were being punched. “Do I render you speechless?” James’ eyebrows wiggled.

“Wow,” you whistled, “Just as you were beginning to warm my heart, you decided to go and be a prick again.” you teased back. 

“No no!” James exclaimed, “I can go back to being cute.” The two of you smiled at each other, no longer feeling the awkwardness in the air.

“James Potter,” you observed slowly, “you’re a good friend.”

He began to flush, his ears went red and he waved his hand, “What are mates for?”

“I guess you’re right,”

“Does that mean you’ll let me stay for study sessions?”

You pretended to think, tapping a finger on your lips, “I suppose so.” James cheered loudly. Your eyes widened at his cheer and quickly shushed him.

“And then maybe... we can-”

“Can what?”

“Meet... for something other than studying?” James Potter, the boy who was charming and confident grew nervous waiting for your reply. 

“We’ll see.” you finally answered, making James let out an exhale of relief. “But only if Peter gets higher than Acceptable on his essay.”

James leaned in close to you, “On my heart, Love.”

And yes, with much studying and preparation from both you and James, Peter received an O.

[sapphicwhxre]

you

♥︎ pairing: ginny weasley x fem!houseneutral!reader

♥︎ summary: ginny distances herself from you because she thinks you love someone else.

♥︎ requested: yes | no

♥︎ warnings: angst, heartbreak, self hate/comparison, total inconsistency since if you're in the trio’s year you wouldn’t have class with ginny + astoria isn’t in ginny’s year but shush its a fic

pumpkin pasties, chocolate frogs, and all your other favourite treats jumped around in ginny’s bag. the gryffindor girl had gone to help ron woo some mystery girl who he’d taken a liking to and stumbled upon his stash of candies. ginny had called it a fee for her services and decided she’d share her earnings with the girl she loved most, both as a friend and more ─ that girl was you and as far as ginny knew, you were completely oblivious to her feelings.

it was a wednesday afternoon so she could only assume you were having your weekly study session with the gryffindor golden girl herself, hermione granger.

the pep in her step made her red hair bounce on her shoulders, her excitement to see you growing with each one she took. ginny turned the corner, finally at your study spot and she paused. you looked emotional, to put it simply, and you clutched what appeared to be a crumpled piece of parchment that someone had changed their mind about tossing.

there was a nervous gloss to your eyes and ginny thought she should leave, letting you and hermione talk alone. but her curiosity and just the way she cared for you got the best of her.

taking a deep breath and not noticing ginny behind the pillar ─ where she wasn’t so much as hiding, but quietly observing ─ you started to read off of the parchment. “there’s no easy way to say this,” you read clearly, but your shy, quivering smile gave away how you felt about reading what was written. was it a letter? had you written it? “but i love you.”

ginny’s heart stopped. she swallowed thickly, uncertain of how to process the sinking feeling in her chest. you exhaled shakily and smiled, biting your lip and staring down at the words you'd written.

“i love your hair,” you laughed, running your hand over your own nervously. “i love your eyes when you’re happy and the sound of your voice. did you know your nose scrunches when you laugh? it’s adorable. i’ve never met someone who brights up my life like you do. i love how you always know what to say and i love that i can be myself with you. i love your heart, you’re everything i adore. i love when i can look into your eyes because mine fill with the love i’ve only ever felt for you. the only thing more beautiful to me is you. it’s that same look that i’ve never been able to tell if you’ve given me back. my thoughts go cloudy when i’m with you. i love you so much. you’re... you. how could i not have fallen in love with you?"

as she looked at hermione’s angel-like face, ginny felt hot drops of some form of sadness more intense than she even knew possible well up in her eyes. hermione’s lips were parted in awe and she was smiling.

hermione granger, brightest, most beautiful witch of her age. beside you, in ginny’s opinion, but you were right. how could you not have fallen in love with hermione?

you folded up the letter and sighed, no longer reading but still going. “even if you don't love me, it was worth every word. i’ve never regretted anything when it comes to loving you. yours, y/n l/n.”

hermione grinned at you, “that was beautiful, y/n. truly... gods, i didn’t know you had that in you.” ginny fled, not wanting to watch what came next or hear what hermione had to say about how she felt for you. she’d break like the porcelain her skin resembled if hermione said she loved you back... if hermione kissed you, like ginny had only dreamed of.

wiping away the tears that stained her cheeks, she hated herself. y/n loves hermione. she just wished she hadn’t listened. she shouldn’t have fallen for you in the first place or let herself have foolish hope. even more foolish to think she could ever win you over when you could have hermione. older, brighter, and beautiful. she was fool, and now ginny believed had paid the price for it.

but had she stayed only a second longer, she’d have heard hermione’s stunned words. “ginny’s going to love every word, y/n, i know it.” bubbling with nerves, you threw yourself to hug her and squeezed tightly, just as ginny turned to steal one last glance at you. “thank you ‘mione, you’re the best.”

you were inaudible from the distance but there you were in hermione’s arms, giggling and chattering. despite the fact that you were joking about her own crush, ron, the sight only made ginny sick. ginny lost her appetite and made her way to her dorm, instead of the great hall where dinner would be starting in just a few minutes.

the heartbroken girl probably would have thrown up right then and there, had she seen you and hermione walk into the great hall. arm in arm, you were practically shaking with anticipation. of course, she’d incorrectly imagined that you’d be parading in with intertwined fingers and smeared lipstick but through a made up mind, it’d look like all the same.

“where’s gin?” you found a seat next to ron and harry, scanning the table for her red ponytail. through a mouthful of food, ron shrugged and answered, “must have gotten held up.” hermione rolled her eyes with disgust, silently scolding him for his ill manners.

you took the opportunity to tease the two. “never invite me to dinner at your home, save the fighting for your kids.” they both blushed heavily and stammered out how they’d never fancy the other, then immediately spewing out offense at the implication. ron huffed and harry spoke over them, rolling his eyes heavily.

“what about you, y/n? i thought you and ginny would be an item by now,” harry didn't really care either way, but it did seem ridiculous for the two of you to dance around dating for so long, especially since he somewhat saw her as a little sister. and truth be told, everyone was curious about you two.

even ron perked up and hermione smirked knowingly. “leave her alone, it’s none of your business,” she announced.

ron narrowed his eyes and started, “hermione, do you know something?” hurrying to stop them from bickering again, you cleared your throat. “i wrote ginny a letter, laying out exactly how i feel for her. now if you’ll excuse me, i’m going to go find her because i don’t think she’s coming.”

you hopped out of your seat, taking some food for her, and left poor harry alone with the arguing lovebirds to go confess your feelings.

you hummed to yourself, going to knock on ginny’s dorm door. her dorm mate opened the door and looked you up and down, glaring angrily. “what do you want?” she crossed her arms and scoffed. taken aback, you blinked and searched the room for ginny, who was curled up in her bed crying.

“excuse me? get out of my way, i need to see ginny. is she alright?” the girl eyed you, as if scanning you for a lie, and she supposed you were sincere in your concern. “she’ll be fine, just give her some space.”

without another word, the gryffindor slammed the door in front of you and you were left staring at the shut dorm, filled with confusion and a harrowing worry. your hand fell and defeated, you shoved your love letter into your pocket.

you didn’t see ginny the next day in class. or the day after that. she wasn’t talking to any of her brothers, you, or harry and had even turned the other way when you waved her down. it was like she was avoiding you and after a week of it, you came to the conclusion that she must be. ginny’s schedule resided in your mind so you set to confront her after potions. a girl with a mission was a force that should never be reckoned with ─ ginny taught you that.

“it shouldn't be too hard if we get some studying in,” ginny was discussing an upcoming exam with astoria greengrass, a slytherin girl in her year. you rather awkwardly stopped in front of the two and watched them part ways, ginny sending you a scarily pissed off glare. the tension could be cut with a knife and you and ginny blurted at the same time.

“you’re avoiding me!”

“i heard you and hermione!”

anger slipping, ginny avoided your eyes. “well that’s why i’ve been avoiding you. i’m sorry, i know i should be happy for you,” she started to ramble and you stared at her, baffled. happy for you and hermione? “i thought i didn’t care, that i could just push my feelings for you aside. it’s just that when you read that letter to hermione, there was so much... love in your voice. it hurt. i want to be the one you love.”

dumbfounded, you realised that she’d thought the letter was for hermione. “oh fuck, ginny no,” you stumbled, making her step back, assuming you were rejecting her. this wasn’t how you wanted to tell her that you loved her, it was supposed to go better than this. “wait! what i mean is─”

“you made it pretty damn clear what you mean, y/n,” ginny sniffled. “i think it's best if i just─” you cut her off with a kiss. you grabbed her face, kissing her like you’d never tasted something so sweet and you just couldn't get enough. she pulled back, breath heavy on your lips. “but... but hermione,” she whispered and you laughed, eyes fluttering shut and head shaking.

“i was reading it to her to practice on you. it was always for you ginny, it’s always been you.” the smile that you missed all week finally enraptured the lips you’d be kissing as much as you possibly can now that you knew you could. “and besides, she fancies your brother.” ginny thought for a moment and then sighed in embarrassment. but she said nothing as she knew you’d only reassure her and she knew this was how things ought to be.

ginny wrapped her arms around you and melted into your embrace, burying herself in your warmth and tugging you closer ─ though with no distance between you two, the gesture wasn’t very efficient. “so you love me?” she just wanted to hear you say it.

“i love you, ginny.”

“i love you, y/n.”

──────♥︎

[robthomissed]

Life With Sammy

enjoy these little slices of life that I wrote based on a song that really doesn't mean anything but gave me the idea

inspired by Sentimental by WMD

Before Sammy

Life was…..fine. You were living and things weren’t bad but things just felt a little hollow. Every rainstorm or trip to the art museum or meal cooked for one was nice in a lot of ways but you couldn’t help but look around sometimes and feel like it would be nice to have someone there to share it with. Over time the light and color started to drain and each day was just more of the same. The small voice inside you saying it just wasn’t going to happen, time to make peace with being alone.

But then there is Sammy. He barrels into your life all big blue eyes, loud laughs, and warm hugs. You soon realize life with Sammy means more…

Laughter

He was laughing at you. This boy had the nerve to laugh at you even after you told him you had never learned how to skate. Sammy was managing to keep his amusement to soft chuckles as you wobbled along the wall of the Blues practice rink during a pre-season family skate.

“Come on babe, just slow down and watch me.” Sammy said as he helped you off the ice after your fourth fall in the last ten minutes. You weren’t one to stay patient while learning a new skill because your perfectionistic streak took over which was causing your brain to move faster than your feet could learn.

You let out a heavy sigh and took his hands as he proceeded to skate backward with infuriating ease. You focused your attention on his skates to try and pick up on what he was doing. Just as you thought you were getting the hang of it, Sammy's right skate caught a gash in the ice and he flailed backward dragging you down with him. There was a short moment of panic on your part when Sammy stayed quiet and still on the ice after you landed on top of him with his head tucked into your neck. Then after a few excruciating seconds, you felt him start to chuckle and you breathed a sigh of relief.

You both just laid there laughing to yourselves for a minute before he said “Okay, not that I don't love having you on top of me but let’s save it for when we get home.”

This sent you into another fit of blushing and giggling which you tried to hide by tucking your face back into Sammy’s shoulder. When you did finally manage to get yourself up off the ice Sammy still looked overly proud of himself that he had made you blush that hard.

Rain

You were sitting in Sammy’s car one night in the rain and just talking about life. Nothing and everything. Solving the world's problems and ranking the best place to get frozen custard in town. The rain is hitting the car just hard enough that it blocks out any noise from the outside world and creates a little bubble in time and space. It is only you two and the rest of the world is far away. The light from the streetlights coming through the rain-covered windows is lighting up his face in the most gorgeous way. The raindrops are casting shadows that cascade down the side of his face and make the shine of his eyes that much brighter.

Beauty

Sammy is beautiful in the small moments…

The way the summer sun brings out the auburn in his hair

The way his hand looked holding a wine glass

The furrow of his brows when he really focused on something

The way he always opened the door for you

The hugs after a long day

The way his voice sounds talking to your cat when he doesn’t think you are in the room

The crooked smile he gives you in the morning

The way he blushes whenever you tell him how breathtaking he is

Sammy is beautiful in so many ways and you hope one day he’ll actually believe you when you tell him

Relief

You aren’t stupid. You know the risks of playing professional hockey. You had seen numerous guys go down with various injuries in your years as a hockey fan. But having that knowledge in your head couldn’t prepare you for seeing Sammy crumpled in the corner after a crushing hit from you don’t even know who. The play continues up the ice but you can’t make yourself care as you watch Sammy lay still. Why haven’t they blown the whistle…. don't they see him? Finally, Torey gains control of the puck and the refs blow play dead as Ray trots out onto the ice. Robby quickly skates over to help him get to Sammy as fast as possible. The arena has gone so quiet you are sure the people around you can hear your heart pounding. Sammy begins to stir just as Ray and Robby reach him and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Okay. He’s moving. That’s good. Vince and Rouzy deliver a couple more trainers from the bench and then join Robby who is hovering just far enough to be out of the way but close enough to feel involved.

After a long few minutes, Sammy gets to his feet mostly on his own, and after a second of leaning on Vince and one of the trainers he skates off by himself. You stay in your seat for a few minutes unsure of what to do until Sammy texts you telling you they are sending him home but they want you to drive. You are greeted by Sammy’s widest smile as soon as you enter the training room. It makes you feel better that he isn’t flat on his back and seems to be mostly normal.

He gingerly gets himself off the training table and gives you a hug.

“You okay?” you ask into his shoulder

“Yeah babe, I’ll be okay. Just shaken up a bit so they don’t want me driving home” he says after placing a kiss on the top of your head.

“Okay good because I want you to stick around for a while,” you say with a sigh.

“Don’t worry you are going to be stuck with me for a long time” Sammy punctuates his teasing with a poke to your ribs which gets a giggle out of you.

“I think that is a burden I am willing to bear.” you tease back and break into giggles when he sticks his tongue out at you.

“Alright goofball let’s go home and get you off your feet”

Quiet

Sammy has a bit of a reputation for being loud. And he is when he is out with friends or when he gets excited about something but he also has a quiet side. Your favorite times with Sammy were when he was just walking around the apartment in his comfy clothes, a glass of wine in hand trying to decide what movie to watch. It was just so quietly domestic and made your heart do all kinds of fluttery things.

One night he catches you just staring at him while he is puttering around the kitchen making himself a late-night snack. When he notices he just stops what he is doing and asks “What?”

“Oh nothing.” you say quickly looking away trying to hide your blush from being caught.

“No no, tell me.” Sammy says as he circles around the kitchen island to stand in front of you and lean on the counter to block any potential escape.

“It’s- it’s just… I don’t know. I’m just really happy I get to see you like this.” you say blushing and barely making eye contact. Feelings are hard okay.

“ Like what?” Sammy says with just an adorably confused look that twists your gut a little bit more.

You sigh a bit and take a moment to find the right words. “Just this quiet side of you. I love your big and bubbly side but it is nice to know you are comfortable around me like this.”

Sammy looks at you still kinda confused, not saying anything and you begin to panic. “You know what, never mind just ignore me. Just go about your business”

After a few moments of silence, you suddenly find yourself pressed into Sammy’s chest as he tries to almost climb into your lap which is difficult since you were already perched rather precariously on the kitchen counter. You really can’t do anything besides hug him back and chuckle a bit.

When Sammy pulls back he just takes your face in his hands and kisses you on the forehead. “I love you babe. Of course I’m comfortable around you. So stare at me as much as you like.” He gives you a cheeky wink and turns his attention back to his snack.

Pleasure

All the years around various trainers and medical staff must have been what gifted Sammy with the unique ability to consistently find the knot in your shoulder with devastating speed and accuracy. The first time you had asked him to give you a quick shoulder rub after a long day you were not prepared for the targeted attack of his thumbs on your shoulder blades. He actually got a little scared when you let out a little noise of pain after he found a particularly sore spot one night.

“Oh no, did I hurt you!? My mom says I don’t know my own strength sometimes.” You didn’t even have to look back to imagine the way his eyebrows were knitted together with concern.

“No babe it’s fine. It’s that ‘hurts so good’ kinda thing. Keep going” You reassure him while rolling your shoulders to encourage him to continue.

Sammy seemed less than convinced but resumed his task nonetheless. He seemed to be holding back a bit though until he found a particularly tough knot and really went to work on it. You couldn’t hold in the winces and sighs as you felt the tension melt out of your body. It was your turn to be confused when you heard Sammy start quietly laughing behind you.

“Oh what now you are taking pleasure in my pain?” you asked with more than a little sarcasm.

“No, it’s just that I have only heard you make those noises under….different circumstances.” Sammy said with a smirk clearly heard in his voice.

You just rolled your eyes and turned to stick your tongue out at him because you couldn’t really come up with any clever retort. Sammy just continued to look very proud of himself when you announced you were going to make popcorn and he better have a movie picked out by the time you got back.

Struggles

You would be lying if you said that Sammy being out of town so much for a large part of the year wasn’t a strain on the relationship. You were the kind of person who really valued routine and knowing that your partner would be there when you got home most nights. You knew that that wasn’t going to be possible with Sammy and it had actually been the reason you had turned him down the first time he asked you out but thankfully he had persisted and you had decided he was worth it in the end. There were still hard days though because you would come home wanting to cook dinner together and cuddle on the couch but would be greeted by only your cat who was a great cuddle buddy but no replacement for Sammy. On those nights you would call Sammy just to hear his voice and see his smiling face. You were also usually treated to a few guest appearances by Vince and Rouzy who seemed to be ever-present around Sammy on road trips.

So while you still have bad days and crave the stability of a partner with normal working hours you know you wouldn’t trade Sammy for the world when he stumbled in the door dead on his feet but still trying to tell you every stupid thing Wally did and handing you some random airport trinket from whatever city the team had most recently visited.

Promise

Since Sammy had come into your life things had just felt better. You looked forward to getting up every day and seeing what was in store because you had someone to share it with. Sammy being in your life made you want to strive for more. He pushed you to be your best just like you did for him. You both made the other want to keep going to see where life would take you next. You never knew what was around the bend but you did know that you didn’t have to face it alone anymore.

Life with Sammy means more of everything...

[imaginesbymonika]

Camille | Harry Styles x Reader

Plot: Y/N meets an ex and she’s quick to remind her that their relationship will never be as strong as their previous one.

Warnings: angst, fluff at the end

Song to listen to while reading:

Harry had never been entirely public about his relationships, yes… after a while gossip would circulate and people would figure out who he was dating. But paparazzi would never manage to actually get a picture of him and his current girlfriend.

That was until he met Y/N.

Suddenly Harry was seen all over town with the young woman. They went on coffee dates and his fans were quick to notice how his dimples became even deeper, whenever he was around her. He was happy and everyone could see that.

“Are you ready?”,Harry asks as he softly grabs Y/N’s hand. She nods before the car door opens. Then all hell broke loose. Camera lights were coming from all directions and Y/N worried for a minute that she would eventually turn blind. as she holds on to his hand even tighter. He giggles.

She wears a beautiful red dress while he wears a red suit. A couple, straight out of a magazine - she suited him like no other woman had ever before.

“I am going to the restroom real quick.”, she whispers into his ear, after both of them found their table:” Freshening up my lipstick.”. Harry nods and watches her until she steps through the doors into the restroom. She swallows thickly at the scenery of supermodels and actresses in-front of her , who all seem to turn at the same time. A few of them smile at her, while others stare at her in pure enviousness.

She walks past them and when she stands in front of the mirror, she meets eyes with a specific somebody in the reflection. A shiver runs down her spine. “Oh, it’s Harry’s new ladylove.”, she announces and Y/N tries her best not to look as intimidated by Camille as she felt. She nods as she hears giggling in the back:” You must be Camille, it’s nice to meet you.”.

“Cut the bullshit.”, she hisses:” We all know that Harry and I were the one couple, no red dress of yours could ever compare to me. Remember-.”, she leans closer:” What he does with you, he did with me first.”.

Then she leaves.

“There you are.”,Harry says as Y/N sits down next to him again, she smiles at him softly as he leans forward to give her a short but sweet kiss:” You’re looking so stunning tonight. As always.”.

“I-.”.

But before Y/N can complete her sentence the lights on the stage go on and Harry begins to clap.

A few hours later, when both of them arrive back at his house they’re equally drained. But while Harry rambles on and on about the award show, Y/N realizes how her heart grows heavy- she shouldn’t feel this way about what his ex had to say, after all, she’s an ex for a reason.

“Are you okay?”,Harry’s deep but soothing voice brings the young woman back into reality as he walks up to her. He takes her hands in his. Y/N nods and wants to let go, but Harry’s grip tightens gentle. She sighs. “Please, don’t lie to me.”

Y/N licks her lips:” Okay. I-, well, I met Camille in the restroom.”. As soon as the words leave her lips Harry’s eyes widen in realization:” What did she say?”. His voice was suddenly lower than before and Y/N can hear the anger building up in it. “She did not-.”.

“What did she say?”, he repeats himself more sternly.

“That she is- better than me. And that everything you do with me- you did with her, well, first.”

Harry scoffs, while letting go of Y/N hand. He wanders off into the kitchen and takes a water out of the refrigerator, without saying anything he takes a sip. “Harry?”

He takes out his phone and dials some number while his girlfriend sits down on one of the barstools in front of him. ��Yeah, hi. Camille? This is Harry.”, he speaks, his voice oddly soft:” I heard you came across Y/N this evening.”.

Y/N feels how her stomach turns. How could he be so peaceful and gentle? How could he speak like that to a woman that verbally tortured her just a few hours prior? Embarrassed her and made their relationship sound like a joke to all those celebrities.

“I heard what you said-.”

And then Harry changes. His eyes turn darker, while he snatches the water bottle and tosses it through the room:” What the actual fuck, Camille?!”.

Y/N’s eyes widen. “After our break up I composed a fucking number one album about you- for you, because I believed we are friends. You humiliated me in that fucking restroom- why? Because I fucking trusted you. I trusted our friendship- stop me asking me why? Why? Why? Why? Because I trusted you, Camille! Yeah right, don’t try to behave all innocent- Oh Je suis désolé, my ass! If you try to degrade Y/N or our relationship ever again- I swear to god, Camille. You will regret that, you got it?”.

As soon as the last word leaves Harry’s lips he ends the call and throws his phone onto the sofa. He licks his lips while his hands shake slightly. A silence falls upon the two lovers. Y/N who is still sitting on the barstool opens her mouth, but when no words come out she closes it again.

“I’m sorry, you had to-.”.

“I love you.”.

Harry chuckles as he walks around the corner. He takes her in his arms:”I just want you to know, I am on your side. Always. No matter what. Okay?”

Y/N smiles into his chest.

“Love you too, Y/N.”

[lay-z]

once upon a dream | 1 of 10

Fandom: MCU | Pairing: Thor x Reader x Bucky

Summary: You know him; have walked, talked, and fought with him. You know the look in his eyes, a familiar gleam. And you know it is true, visions are seldom all they seem. But if you know him, you know what he will do. He will love you at once, the way he did once upon a dream.

Warnings/Info: Ok, so this is basically a “you get send to an AU (the MCU) where the Avengers exist, and you get the chance to change the outcome of the story”. I have been thinking about this idea for a while now and I just want to get it out of my head (: Idk if this has been done before, probably yes, but I couldn’t find anything so, yeah, here it is. No warnings for this chapter! Hope you’ll enjoy, cheers ♥

The muddy park trail squelches under your boots as you keep a comfortable pace; your dog following a few feet behind, thanks to the flexi leash. The air is chilly and humid, the post-rain scent still lingering around the rich green leaves of bushes and trees.

The downpour has been necessary after a week-long drought and a non-characteristic blazing Spring sun.

You have taken your dog, Toast, for the last walk of the day, fearing that the timeframe between the last rainfall and the next will be cut short soon. A look at the sky is telling enough, with thick dark clouds keeping away any sunlight, and the deep rumbling in the distance announcing a thunderstorm.

“Come on, bud, let’s speed this up”, you coo over your shoulder, clicking your tongue to get Toast’ attention.

You walk the usual round around the currently deserted park until your furry friend stops dead in his tracks. Looking between the trail and Toast, you furrow your brows with confusion, lightly tugging on the leash.

“What’s wrong, Toasty? Come on now”

Dragging Toast along, you keep marching down the trail, ignoring his stubbornness for his own sake. You know he still must go potty and there is no way you will take him for another walk as soon as he realizes he must go, better yet when it is storming outside once more. No, thank you.

You are not aware that you should have listened to Toast; not until thunder roars just above you, shaking the ground, and the leaves rustle violently as the wind turns, lashing through the park.

There are voices around you, distorted at first before they come clear. But your eyelids are heavy, squeezing shut against the bright light above you.

“She’s stable for now. Just a minor head injury from the fall”

“So, she’s gonna make it?”

“Yes, Rhodey, that’s what stable means usually”

“What if she’s…you know…an alien? We should make sure, Tony”

Your head throbs violently and as you try to cup your forehead, your wrist strains against metal. You half-whine, half-groan as you try to free your limbs from their bindings.

“Jarvis, any sign of alien in her blood?”

“No, sir. The tests confirm that she is indeed human”

“You hear? She’s human. Can you calm down now?”

Still too discombobulated to panic, you muster up all your strength to announce your consciousness.

“What…where – who”

“What is this? A guessing game? Wakey wakey, sunshine. We have a few questions for you”

“Tony, she just fell from the sky, give her a break, man”

You open your eyes slowly, peering up at the faces hovering above you. These voices are too familiar, but your vision is still blurry.

“There she is. See? She’s fine. Hi, sweetheart”

You blink nervously until your vision clears eventually, and your heart skips a beat at the sight.

“Robert Downey Junior?”, you mutter under your breath, eyes widening as you stare at his bemused face.

“You still think she’s fine?”

Your eyes shift to the man standing by your other side, and you recognize him too.

“Don Cheadle?”

As both men stare at you with lost confusion, you can feel yourself panicking. The bindings seem tighter, breathing becomes nearly impossible. This cannot be real. They cannot be real.

“Tony, I think she’s having a panic attack”

“Yes, I can see that. Let me just –“

You’re hyperventilating, unable to form a coherent sentence by the time Tony draws up a tiny syringe. You shake your head, and the dizziness is overwhelming. Suddenly, another man steps into your field of vision.

“How is she doing?”

“As you see, not too well, Cap. Rhodey, gimme a hand here”

Wait, Cap? Your eyes meet his intense yet soft blue eyes, full of concern for you, and it is too much. Darkness consumes you once again as you lose consciousness.

[that-damn-girl]

(8) Bucky and The Bed

Completed

Chapter 7

Bucky and The Bed Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x (cis)fem!reader

Words: 3100+

Summary: You and Bucky are stranded in the middle of a snowy nowhere when there is an ‘electronic blackout’ during your mission. With no back ups or any way to contact your team, you take refuge from the worsening weather in the only cabin you find  in miles. Not to mention, with no power, Bucky has become your personal heater and there’s only one bed.

Chapter type: Fluff.

Chapter/Trigger warning: Language? Like teensy weensy bit of angst?

A/N: Thank you for continuing to read this series still. After the end, which I will start on a Bucky x Rogers!reader miniseries. I am particularly excited to write the next two chapters. Hope you like this part!

Bucky looked at it. Kept looking at it. And looked at it some more.

The metal armed man was sure he couldn't ever get tired of the sight in front of him. It was simple and yet so complex he felt he could get lost into it and never regret a second. It might not be much, but it was enough for him to lose himself. He didn't know how to describe the sense of serenity it brought him. 

Peeking through the light fluffy clouds, the setting sun cast warm golden rays that gave every snowy surface around you a honey like glaze. As the time gradually passed, various colours in the most brilliant of their shades blended beautifully to embellish the never-ending sky. As the slanting rays of the sun flitted through the clouds, the yellow filter in the sky gave way to a graceful braid of pink and orange before shrouding everything is it's vermilion hue.

In the handful of days you had taken refuge in the cabin, not one day had the sun been kind enough to grace you with its presence. When today it finally did, you and Bucky realised it was too good an opportunity to miss the sunset view these mountains offered. Without any further ado, a bonfire was created outside the cabin with dry leaves and firewood arranged meticulously. 

The splendid view of nature in its finest forms was exploited to its full content. You and Bucky sat around the bonfire, taking in the furiously blushing sky and the snow covered peaks shining golden in the distance as the clouds traversed through them.

Bucky was taken aback by the raw beauty in front of his eyes. It reminded him of the sunsets in Wakanda. Sure it wasn't comparable to those in the futuristic and fascinating country, but it was a close second. He only grew more in awe of the view the more he looked at it. Majestic was one word for the sight in front of him. It wasn't the sky though. 

It was you. 

A small, unconscious smile took a hold of his lips as he took in your face, peacefully resting on his shoulder. Your arms were tightly curled around his vibranium one, your body leaning its weight on him. A shared blanket was thrown over your backs, trapping in the heat the fire provided.

For Bucky, it was majestic, really. How could it not have been, looking at your face, at the blend of the colours from the setting sun and the fire casting a beautiful glow to your already beautiful self? Your serene features were highlighted by the natural light and the dancing flames. You looked elegant and exquisite, more so than anyone he had ever known. As bewildering as it sounded, Bucky had met a god but the warm colours grazing your skin truly made you more divine than any other celestial being. 

Bucky was utterly whipped.

Sensing his gaze on you, you tilted your head to look at him. Bucky had always had an intense face, even when he was relaxed or didn't mean to do it. You had encountered it many a times and dealt with the increase in your heart rate it brought, but you could never get used to his soft smile and gentle eyes looking at you with such adoration, such love, such trust, as if you had hung the stars and the moon for him. It overwhelmed you, always, but in the best of the ways. Especially since you had discovered a couple days ago that it wasn't just in your head. 

Unable to stifle your own giddy smile, you reached up to kiss his lips. It was only meant to be a peck, but he drew you in even before you had the chance to pull back, always eager to taste you, to have you, to kiss you, to cherish you. You galdly gave into the kiss. It was soft and sweet, the way his lips molded around yours, moving in sync. The kiss slowly grew intense, but not heated. It was only filled with love and care, making him unable to put in the conscious effort of letting you go if you were okay with it. 

Instead his strong arms wound around you and brought you to him lap so that you were straddling his thick thighs. His lips moved slow but firm, just taking the time to worship your lips as they deserved to be. One hand tightened around your middle, keeping you secure in his hold while the other drifted down to your butt, his large hands kneading your cheeks gently with utmost care and fondness. You slid your arms up his broad chest and around his neck, holding him close. Smiling in between the kisses, neither of you were able to let go, clinging to each other as none could get enough of the other.

When you finally did let go to breathe in lung fulls of the crisp, cold air, you moved to relieve him of your weight. His arms tightened around you in a slight moment of panic, refusing to dismiss the comfort you brought him just by your touch, your closeness. "Stay, please?" He softly pleaded.

You looked down at the heavy log of wood Bucky sat upon. It was broad enough to sit, but not enough to be comfortable if he kept your weight on himself for long. "Your legs are going to hurt, Bucky"

"Y/N, I don't know the true limit of the powers the serum gave me, but I think it's enough to stop a helicopter from taking off. I think I can hold my precious girl without hurting myself." He smiled at you with the boyish charm and the innocence of a first grader announcing that he got A+ in an assignment.

"Show off," You chuckled, booping his nose with yours. "But an adorable show off."

"What?" Bucky quietly, softly muttered, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. "I like holding you, hugging you, having you close. That's all." Your heart fluttered in your chest, swelling with emotions. The simplicity, the vulnerability with which he admitted favouring your presence made you wonder just how much open and comfortable he was with you. You knew he liked you, trusted you, but it never ceased you from being overwhelmed everytime he expressed it.

Heart brimming with affection for the man in front of you, you didn't trust yourself not to confess then and there how deeply in love you were with him. Instead you said the only thing you could think of to draw the attention away from your racing heart. "You also like my butt."

The metal hand tenderly kneading your butt cheek stilled. Hesitance crept in every being of Bucky. He cursed himself, worried he had offended you or made you uncomfortable somehow. What he heard was unassuming, but he didn't want to take any chances if you didn't like it. 

Bucky realised that since the day you had agreed to be his girl, he had given an awful amount of attention to your butt. He'd always rest his hands there while cuddling or gently knead the soft muscles as he was doing then. He would never deny that your behind was alluring to him, but his touch wasn't meant to be demeaning or enticing, at least not until you partook in sexy times. He'd only ever meant for his actions to treasure you, admire you, but he would not do it at the cost of your comfort. 

You caught onto what must have been going inside his head. Bucky meant to draw his hand back and apologise, but you stopped him and quickly added, "I love the attention, honestly."

"You're not... offended by it?" Pulling back to look at you, he asked unsurely, making himself look as small as possible.

"Should I be?"

Bucky shook his head, "I like you and I respect you, a lot. You know that, right? I only do it, because...well, what's there not to like about your butt?" He emphasised it by giving a small squeeze to your soft muscles.

"I believe you," You chuckled, giving his plump lips a sweet peck."And I meant it, I love the attention you give it. But why do you like it so much? My ass is so-"

"It's perfect." Bucky finished your sentence before you could add in any negative comment about yourself. "You're perfect, doll."

"You're such a charmer." You mumbled, going for his lips with a wide smile.

"Only for you." Bucky replied, happy to taste you, feel you. When he pulled back, he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

With the fiery flames warming your back and Bucky's heated body pressed to your front, you snuggled into him further. Head resting on his broad shoulder, eyes closed, you basked in the comforting embrace, in the heat seeping into your bones. It was your own little heaven.

Feeling the sun on his skin after so many days had felt great. Although he was used to staying in the dark before he was rescued, he didn't like it one but. It felt good, immensely so. But with you at his side, with him, enveloped in his arms, your touch calming him, anchoring him, everything was better than never before. 

It didn't take long for Bucky to realise that you had dozed off on his shoulder, your chest tranquilly rising and falling against him. Chuckling, he gripped both the ends of the blanket and curled his arms around you again, the pair of you now cocooned in the heat of the blanket. 

He rested his chin on your shoulder, his head leaning against your, and looked at the dwindling flames in the darkening sky. Nightfall loomed at the corners, impatiently waiting for the sun to complete its descent before it could take over. The lowering temperature was palpable in the chilling air. He knew he would need to carry you inside soon, but he waited for the soothing heat of the fire to die down before he would be forced to retreat inside. 

Looking at the sky in the far distance, Bucky took in the myriad of changing colours with time. He couldn't help but think about Steve. What Steve would have done if he would have been there. There was no doubt in Bucky's mind that Steve would have ran inside to look for a pencil and paper with the speed of a cheetah. 

He would have taken down the various shades on the trees and the mountains and the clouds floating above their heads with the monochromatic beauty of grey and created a masterpiece. Bucky smiled, thinking about the concentrated look Steve would have had in his face, brows furrowed as his eyes would have shifted like at a ping pong game between the sky and the paper. He remembered his days in the military camps with his pal, when the newly bulky man still testing his strength would sketch in any free time he got to deal with the stress he felt.

Bucky...missed his childhood friend very much. He didn't realise when his eyes had moistened when his vision grew blurry.

Not that Sam and you weren't few of the greatest friends he had had, but Steve was... something else. Steve Grant Rogers was his brother, truly so. 

Everytime Bucky thought about his pal, his Steve, limitless emotions flew through him, all different for different reasons. One of the most lasting ones though was that gratification. Bucky firmly believed he owed his life to Steve for saving him from the torture he had suffered from the hands of HYDRA. Not once, but twice, in Austria and in D.C., when that fool had nearly died instead of fighting him. Steve had also saved him from the governments of the entire freaking world, trusted in him when nobody else did. Steve had fought with his friends of the twenty first century, his only family, for him. The Golden Boy of America preferred his name being dragged through the mud and being counted in the ranks of the criminals he put behind the bars over losing Bucky. Though he knew it wasn't just for him, Steve had helped resurrect him and all the others when Thanos had snapped them dead. He didn't know how he could ever repay Steve for all that he had done, for all the sacrifices he had made for Bucky. 

Out of all those plethora of emotions, one of the few which weighted heavily on him was that of regret. For a man who had lived for over a hundred years, Bucky didn't have the chance to do as many things as he would have liked. Maybe it was because he hadn't lived as much as he had survived, but he didn't let that be the base of his excuses. He had meant to do many things right. 

Bucky never thanked his Ma for the man she had raised him to be. He was never there for his sisters when he had promised them he would be. He never properly thanked Steve for saving him time and again. He never thanked Howard for helping Steve save him when he was captured in Austria or for keeping Steve company when he couldn't. He never got to thank Tony for reversing the snap or apologise to him for all that he had done to his parents, Bucky's own friends, while in evil's control.

Bucky had always thought that he would have time; time which he lost partially because he had taken everything for granted, partially because fate had been cruel to him with a vengeance. Life of an Avenger was... unpredictable at the very best. They could be overly cautious, but never fully prepared. Many a times they had to deal with hostage situations or - Bucky still couldn't get used to believing it - alien invasions without a moment's notice. 

Bucky had learnt never to take things for granted the hard way. Now that he thought about it, lady luck had never been on his side for long. Everything even remotely good had been taken from him when he thought he had time to enjoy them and bask in their glory. 

He didn't want it anymore. Bucky didn't want the guilt weighing him down, knowing he could have done something or said something but didn't, because he thought fate would be kind enough to give him some time. 

He didn't want to take chances anymore.  

Glancing down, Bucky saw you napping peacefully on his shoulders, really making him a human pillow. Hot puffs of air fell on his neck through your open lips. His heart fluttered in his chest, mentally cooing at how adorable you looked.

He couldn't help but think back to the time he had first met you as himself. His metal arm was trapped in a hydraulic press in some abandoned factory. Both Sam and you had pure disbelief on your faces when Steve trusted Bucky enough to believe his every word...just because he could recall Sarah and how Steve wore his shoes. But then you had gotten to know each other, slowly but surely.

It hadn't been all rainbows and sunshine. The trio of you had had your asses kicked by the spider kid, a literal teenager. You and Sam had been imprisoned in the Raft and had to live a couple years as criminals because you had helped Steve in rescuing him. After Thanos happened, Steve had decided to go on his own journey, leaving Bucky with those who didn't really know him and neither did he know them.

But efforts were made on both the sides. You and Sam had welcomed him into the Avengers like your own. Sure he had been more open and closer to Sam first, but that hadn't deterred from trying to befriend him. 

Much like Sam, you had helped him through his night terrors. Been awake with him at odd hours of the night because he couldn't sleep. Helped him discover himself again. Listened to him when he needed an out without any judgement, or talked for the two of you when he wanted to communicate but couldn't. Trusted in him when he didn't even trust himself. Helped him believe in himself and forgive himself. You had helped him recover.

You were with him at the darkest times to guide him to the light, and celebrated with him when he did find his light. There were relapses, but you were with him to help him get back on track. 

You had trusted him enough to let him see your vulnerable spots, to confide in him, to let him take care of you, to let him help you just like you had helped him. You had trusted him enough to let him see you, the real you. 

But most important of all, you had been a friend before anything else. A friend whom he had needed had needed more than anything else.

Feelings had developed along the way, which he was glad for being reciprocated on both sides. The journey to where you and him were now had been a long one. It had never been easy, but it hadn't affected either of you. 

Bucky never wanted to lose you. He couldn't ever possibly lose you. You meant too much to him. He also knew he couldn't dare to think he'd have much time before something akin to Thanos happened again. Being an Avenger guaranteed that nothing was ever guaranteed. Most of all time, in Bucky's case at least.

Looking at you, Bucky realised he couldn't not let you know how he truly felt. No matter what your decision might be afterwards, he had to let you know. He wanted to be his own man, making his own decisions. And he wanted to love you, so goddamn much, if you allowed him.  His heart beat faster in realisation when he realised what that would mean. It made him nervous, but he was ready.

The risque wasn't lost on him. He was very well aware that you could run away in the opposite direction, thinking he was going too fast. You could break it off and your friendship wouldn't be the same again. If you wouldn't want to speak to him again, you would respect your wishes.

But if there was even the slightest chance that you felt the same, he needed to do it. Because the bliss of having you, being with you and loving you was worth every risk in the world.

The divider is made by @writeyourmindaway​

Chapter 9 

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[disgruntledspacedad]

Save a Horse 

pairing: Javier Peña x reader

summary: (fluff, slice of life) You ride a horse. Javi has a heart attack. 

words: 2kish

warnings: language. Utter ignorance of ranch life, but Ears is enthusiastic, at least. No horses were harmed in the writing of this fic.

a/n: unbeta’d.

It was Pop’s idea to start with. 

“Have you ever ridden a horse, Orejas?” he breaks the easy morning silence suddenly, resting his empty mug on the counter and shooting you an expression that can only be described as conspiratorial.

“No,” you answer honestly, thinking wryly that Pop certainly knows how to catch your attention. 

Beside you, Javi stiffens, and you can feel his gaze heavy on you. He’s been a little jumpy ever since he’d got you back, and with good reason, really. You rest a reassuring hand on his thigh and squeeze, receiving just as much comfort from the gesture as you’re offering.

This man is your rock.

Pop is still watching you expectantly, and you feel your lips tug upward. It’s so easy to smile at Chucho Peña. “But I’m game to try anything twice.”

Pop grins, and Javi blusters a deep sigh.

It’s nice outside. For being early November, the weather is surprisingly mild in Laredo, the air smelling of grass and hay and maybe a little bit of horse, but in a good way. The sunshine is warm on your skin, the sky extending bright blue as far as you can see. 

Pop leads you to the stables, prattling on about horses and saddles and other things that you don’t understand in the slightest. Javi follows silently, catching your fingers in a vice grip. His jaw is tense, his brow furrowed in that little frown that seems to be permanently affixed to his face ever since Colombia.

Your heart flip flops, and you stop, pulling him close enough to rest your head on his chest. Automatically, Javi’s arms wrap around you, pulling you in, and he sighs deeply into your hair. 

“Freaking out,” you remind him gently. 

He huffs a tiny laugh. “I know.”

You lift your lips for a quick kiss, and Javi obliges eagerly. “It’s going to be okay, babe,” you murmur as you pull away. 

“I know,” he repeats softly, looking for all the world like he really doesn’t. 

“Come on.” You tug at him, noticing Pop carefully not watching you in the distance. “It’ll be fun.”

“I doubt that,” Javi mutters darkly, but he follows anyway.

“This is Caballo,” Pop announces, stopping in front of a freakishly huge black stallion.

Creative, you almost say aloud, reminding yourself to be nice just in time. This man is as good as your father-in-law. It’s probably wise to keep that favorable impression you’ve made.

As if sensing your thought, Pop winks at you. “Javier named him.”

You shoot a little smirk in Javi’s direction, knowing that he’ll pick up on your teasing. He doesn’t rise to your bait, though, the killjoy.

In no time at all, the horses are saddled up and ready to go. Javi is perched atop a cream-colored mare, Cerveza, and Caballo is all yours.

Pop declines to ride, preferring to supervise you from the ground. “He’s very gentle, Orejas,” he tells you as he helps you into the saddle. “Won’t throw you or buck. Not like Cerveza.” He winks up at you. “Es una pequeña perra.”

Together, you laugh. You’ve picked up on enough Spanish curses during your time in Colombia to get the message.

Javi and Pop offer you some last-second advice - relax, sit up straight, and keep the reigns loose - and then you’re off, plod-plod-ploding at a mind-numbingly sedate pace around the fence line. 

By the third lap, you are thoroughly, utterly, completely bored.

“I think I’m ready to go faster!” you shout to Pop. “Can I make him go faster?”

Pop tips his hat at you, shooting you a toothy grin. “Tap him on the sides with your heels, Orejas, and say, ‘giddap!’”

“Gently,” Javi warns you sharply.

You shoot him a glare that’s only half-mocking. As if you’d just kick this poor horse in the ribs - god, it’s like Javi doesn’t know you at all.

“Giddap,” you say in your most dignified voice, nudging Caballo with your feet like Pop had told you. Caballo jolts forward, cantering half-heartedly for a couple of steps, then slowing to a walk with a disdainful snort. 

Ugh. You toss a questioning glance back at Javi. He’s doing a very poor job of hiding his grin.

Motherfucker.

Pop is smiling, too. “Try it with a little more authority, Orejas!” he advises. “He’s a big animal, and proud. You’ve got to tell him what to do, not ask politely.” 

 Javi snorts. ”Shouldn’t be too hard.”

You whip around to stare at him, lurching forward when Caballo reacts to your sudden shift in body weight. Behind you, Javi breaks out into snickers.

Well, then.

Exasperated, you decide that Javier Peña is far more of a big, dumb, proud animal than the horse you’re riding, and you manage to climb atop him every day and submit him to your will just fine.

Caballo shouldn’t be a problem. 

You square your shoulders, determined to get it right this time, and summon every John Wayne movie you’ve ever seen to the forefront of your mind. It’s not an impressive anthology to pull from - you’re more of a sci-fi kind of girl - but it’s more than enough to get a clear picture in your head of what needs to happen. 

You gather the reigns in one hand, straighten your back, and take a deep breath. 

“Hyah!”

Caballo is off like a shot, surging forward with an enthusiasm that sends your body rocketing backwards. Your feet fly up, suddenly free of the stirrups, and its all you can do to hold like mad to the reigns with your right hand - why the fuck did you decide one hand was better, anyway?? - while your left flaps free in the wind.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,” you tell Caballo. You’re not begging, you’re not.

You’re vaguely aware of shouts behind you.

You manage to pitch forward just enough to avoid falling off the ass-end of the horse, but it’s a near thing. Caballo is in a full-out gallop, lungs chugging beneath you, mane flapping in the wind and stinging your eyeballs. You lean in and hold on for dear life, and goddamn, none of those westerns ever mention just how rough it is on horseback. You are going to be so fucking sore tomorrow, ass, tits, and bits, but you can’t find it in yourself to care, because you are riding this horse, dammit.

You realize your mistake a moment later. Pride goeth before the fall, and your feet had shaken free of the stirrups on Caballo’s initial leap forward. Now, your legs are free-floating, flap, flap, flapping in the wind, and each bounce is sending you just a hair further over to the side. 

Oh shit shit shit.

You flail, arching your toes in a desperate attempt to find purchase somewhere, but it’s a done deal. Grip with your knees, some primal instinct screams, or maybe that’s just Javi - you think he might be chasing you in the background.

By this point, you’re flat sideways on Caballo’s body, curled up more on his ribs than his back. Flop flop flop. He hasn’t slowed one bit, and you realize with sudden, horrifying clarity that gravity is a fucking bitch, and it’s a matter of where, not if or when, you fall.

You decide to do things on your own terms and let go, dumb as it may be. You pitch forward and roll, tucking your shoulder into the ground like your gymnastics teacher had taught you when you were six. There’s a horrifying moment of chaos and pain - the world is spinning, nothing is under your control, and the breath is knocked completely from you, but it’s over in an instant, and you’re left staring at the shockingly blue sky, blinking into the sunlight and listening to the receding hoof-falls of that goddamned horse.

“Ears! Ears! Ears!” Javi is making a lot of fucking noise somewhere over your shoulder. 

The ridiculousness of the situation hits you all at once, along with a truckload of relief. You relive it all in an instant, picturing how utterly fucking stupid you must have looked, clinging to a runaway horse with your hair wild in the wind and your short little legs bouncing like chicken wings, and before you can find your way to your feet again, you’re laughing so hard that you can’t fucking breathe, which is almost a problem, because there wasn’t much air left in you to begin with -

Javi’s kneeling over you now, blocking the sun with his body, panting hard. “Oh, fuck. Fuck, Ears, are you okay?”

You can’t stop laughing long enough to answer him. You curl up in a ball on your side, trying push yourself up on your elbows, but you can’t.

“Oh… Oh my… Oh my god,” you stutter, breathless. 

Beside you, the tension bleeds from Javi’s body in one long, broken sigh. You realize that he’s laughing, too. He leans his forehead into your shoulder, slumping into you bonelessly.

“I… I couldn’t… the fucking foot loops -” in your discombobulated state, the word ‘stirrup’ is lost to you. “My feet, Javi!”

He shakes his head into your neck, hot little breaths puffing on your bare skin. “I know,” he giggles, pressing a quick kiss to your jaw. “I saw.”

You try to stagger upright and don’t quite manage it. You’re feeling dizzy, almost a little drunk, but before you can stumble again, Javi is right there, hauling you to your feet and catching your lips in a deep, gentle kiss.

“You.” Javi breathes into you, his mustache tickling at your lip, and you lean heavily against him, allowing him to do most of the work of holding you up. “Ridiculous girl,” more kisses, “What do you have against me, huh?” a soft nip at the corner of your mouth, “It’s like you just try to scare the life out of me, Ears.”

“Dunno.” Your voice trembles, and you’re unsure whether that’s leftover adrenaline or the way Javi’s gigantic hands are stroking possessively at your ribcage. The flannel he’s wearing is worn soft with age, and you nuzzle into it, sighing. “It’s a hobby, I guess.”

“I can think of better hobbies,” Javi growls at the skin of your neck.

“Not right here,” you laugh, suddenly aware of Pop approaching. Javi whines like a puppy as you push him away gently, his hair mussed and his lips swollen, and your heart swells in your chest.

Christ, sometimes you still cannot believe how fucking lucky you are. 

“Besides.” You can’t resist stealing one last kiss from his chin. “You know you love it.”

Javi’s breath catches. His eyes darken. One thumb strokes softly at your cheek, tucking back a stray hair. “Querida,” he starts -

You’re startled by a slow clap behind you, and both you and Javi jump back as if burned. Pop has finally made it to the scene. “Buena, Orejas!” he teases, his dark eyes dancing. “Well done!”

Asshole, you think fondly. Sarcasm runs strong in the Peña clan, it seems. You shake your head at him, a grin pulling at your cheeks.

Pop reaches to grip Caballo by the reigns. The motherfucker had finished his flight around the the ranch and wandered back toward you, sedately, almost nonchalantly, as if to say, ‘who, me?’

“Ready to go again?” Pop asks, holding out the reigns in your direction. 

Javi groans. “No, Dad.”

You’re not sure if Pop’s serious, but you are. “Absolutely!” Fresh air and adrenaline have made you giddy, and you decide on the spot that, apart from almost dying, riding a horse is the most fun you’ve ever had in your life. 

Caballo takes a little half step back, side-eyeing you with as much expression as a horse can muster, as if he’s sensed your intent and wholeheartedly does not approve.

You glance back at Javi. He’s sighing hard, head in his hands, rubbing his palms to his eyeballs with a ferocity that must have him seeing spots.

You decide to have mercy. “How about tomorrow?” you suggest, bumping shoulders with Javi in a gentle reminder that you’re here, you’re okay. “I know there’s still some beer in the fridge.” 

Pop nods sagely, still grinning as he pats Caballo on the haunches. “I think so.” He offers you a quick wink, and you decide for the third time this morning that you really, really like your almost father-in-law.

“Thank fuck,” Javi mutters to himself. 

You elbow him hard enough to draw a grunt, then offer him a quick peck on the lips in compensation. “Come on, babe. It wasn’t that bad.” 

He huffs in response.