#it's been buggering me for months so it needed to get out of my mind

[musing-and-music]

About Jaime Lannister and Gregor Clegane

One thing that baffled me when I learned about Gregor Clegane's age is that he's the same (or almost) age as Jaime Lannister.

Gregor Clegane

Jaime Lannister

Both have been knighted prior to the tourney at Harrenhal (281 AC), so at 15 and 15-16 and both have loyalty to the Lannisters. But the similarities stop here.

Jaime is young and hopeful about knighthood, happy to be part of an order such as the Kingsguard before his illusions are destroyed by the reality of the situation.

Gregor is already a violent man by that time (he burns his own brother's face when he's ~11), and keeps being brutal and merciless

Jaime is helpless when he hears Rhaella's cries and his sworn brothers tells him he can't do anything for her

Gregor is suspected of killing his father, sister, and two wives (I don't know when but one after the other), and of course Elia Martell and young Aegon Targaryen

While Jaime protects a city by killing his king, Gregor sacks that same city, then kills the child who could have been the future king

One is sneered at for what's his best act, the other feared but still asked to do the same he already did

And they were the same age

[fingertipsmp3]

My sister messaged me

[cameronspecial]

Birthday Surprise

Pairing: Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.1K

Summary: With Drew's birthday on the horizon, Drew's daughter and wife wanted to do something special for him.

A/N: Happy Birthday to someone who absolutely makes butterflies in my stomach! Hope this day is amazing!

Masterlist

November 4th. The day Josepth Andrew Starkey entered the world thirty years ago. Drew doesn’t like to do anything big for his birthdays. He prefers to spend the day with his family rather than partying in a crowded club with annoying drunks, but for this milestone birthday, his family had other ideas. His daughter wants to make a big deal out of her father’s birthday and has helped her pregnant mother plan a surprise party for him. This has been kept from the man up until the morning of his birthday. Y/N is up earlier than expected because of the tiny kicks the human growing in her uterus is giving her. Her rolling back into bed in a struggle pulls Drew from his dreams of his wife and daughter. “Is mini-me giving you a hard time again?” he whispers, bringing her back into his hold. She nods against his chest, “Yes, the little bugger seems to think my bladder is a kickstand.” Drew gives a small chuckle, pressing a kiss to her forehead and then her stomach. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart. You only have three more months,” he reassures, rubbing her belly to help soothe her. Her hand finds his, “It’s okay. It will all be worth it in the end. Happy Birthday, my love.” 

She leans over her stomach and kisses him on the lips. He smiles in the kiss, “Thank you. Ugh, I can’t believe I’m thirty. I’m so old.” “No, you aren’t! You are young at heart, love. Just yesterday you were eating an Uncrustable and colouring in a book,” she giggles. The image of yesterday comes to his mind, “I was only doing that because Millie wanted me to do those things with her. Speaking of Millie, what time did you guys go to bed? I swear I felt like I heard you guys up pretty late last night.” In her tiredness and pregnancy fog, Y/N lets the secret slip out of her mouth. “She went to bed at twelve and I was in bed by four I think. I was going over everything for your surprise party so it took me some time because I kept getting hungry and needing to pee.” Her eyes rival the size of the moon when she realizes what she has done, her hand finding way over her mouth. 

Drew chuckles as he processes the words and tries to end her endless apologies, “It’s okay, Sweetheart. You didn’t mean to. You were up late and have a lot on your mind.” “Right. Well, you have to act surprised at the party. Millie is so excited to surprise you; it would crush her if she knew I spoiled it,” Y/N warns, looking him directly in the eye to make sure her point is getting across. Drew gives her a nod, “Got it. I’ll be so surprised that it’s almost like I act for a living.” Y/N giggles at his joke and her smile grows at the pitter-patter of their three-year-old’s footsteps. 

——

Millie shooed her father out of the house right after lunch, sending him with a laundry list of things he needed to do before he got home. As he drove around doing the chores, his heart would warm every time he looked at the non-sensical scribbles that were his daughter's “writing”, which had a translation written by Y/N beside each scribble. Even if he didn’t know about the party, he knew he would gladly do these errands for his girls on his birthday because all he could ever want was to take care of them. 

His hand meets his front door and he takes a second to get into character, almost like he is on set. The handle is pushed down to reveal a dark room, which is suddenly set alight with the screams of ‘surprise’ by his family and friends. He lets his shock show on his face, both hands covering the o-shape of his mouth. “Wow, this is amazing. Thank you guys so much,” he thanks the crowd, looking around for his girls. It isn’t long before Millie is running into her father’s arms. “Happy Birthday, Daddy,” she greets him, letting herself be picked up into the air by the older man. He gives her a massive grin, assaulting her cheek with multiple kisses and thanks. “Daddy, your moustache is tickling me,” she complains with joy in her voice. He pulls away, letting the hand not holding up his daughter adjust the dad hat on his head, “I’m sorry, Baby. Maybe Daddy should get rid of his moustache.” 

“No! Mommy likes it. But Daddy… Were you surprised by my party?”

“Yes, I was, Baby. I was so surprised. I love it so much.”

She looks at him in disbelief, “You are lying! You weren’t surprised.” Drew doesn’t know how his acting doesn’t seem to fool his daughter. “No, I’m not. Daddy really was surprised by the party,” he promises, starting to bounce the girl, who is about to cry. “Okay, maybe Mommy accidentally told Daddy, but it’s okay. Daddy still doesn’t know what you have planned for me.” This causes the girl to pause her cries, “Can we have cake now? I want you to see the cake.” Wanting her smile to return to her face, he nods his head, booming to his party guest that it is time for cake. Nobody objects that the cake is being served before dinner or other party activities. Instead, they all gather around the kitchen table and begin to sing the famous song. “Happy Birthday dear Daddy! Happy Birthday to you.” Millie’s loud singing is the one mainly invading his senses. Maybe because of her proximity to him with her being on his lap or maybe because his focus is mainly on her. “Make a wish, Daddy,” she orders. He obeys, blowing on the candles in the form of a thirty.

“What did you wish for?” she questions. Her eyes bore into his with curiosity. He is about to tell her when Y/N speaks up, “If Daddy tells you, Millie, it won’t come true.” Drew shakes his head, smiling down at his daughter. “It’s okay, my wish is already coming true so it can’t hurt to tell. I wished for more happy days with you and Mommy and everyone else that I love.” The crowd awes at how adorable his words are. “And the baby?” Millie clarifies with concern that her father forgot her baby brother or sister. He nods, “And you baby sibling.” He gives her a kiss on the forehead, allowing her to help him with cutting the cake. 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia

[mlmxreader]

Be My Victim | John Price x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ “You're stuck with me, honey, forever” with price x gn!reader, please and thank you, sir 👁️👁️ ❞

: ̗̀➛ Price has been sent away to Verdun, but when you try to summon an urban legend, you get something very different instead.

: ̗̀➛ major character death, suicide, blood, graphic depictions of burns and scabs, swearing, body horror

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Price had been gone for so long, and you longed for him; you longed for his touch and his kiss, even though you were forbidden fruit and he was the same. He was an SAS Captain, you were a lower ranking officer in the Royal Marines; for him to be close to you was forbidden, a higher ranking officer sworn to secrecy when it came to his work.

The only time that you ever had together was when you somehow either got put together on missions or when you were both deployed. You weren't so lucky this time, staying at home while he buggered off to fuck knew where.

The stinging smell of napalm still thick in your nostrils; it had been months since the incident, yet you had been written off of work by the doctor. Post Traumatic Stress. You scoffed at such a thing.

But the bed beside you was so cold, and the soft dips in the pillows with flecks of short cut brown and grey hairs only made you ache that much more.

One of your comrades, a man by the name of Gareth, had told you about an urban legend; if you looked in the mirror and said his name five times, he would appear.

With his hook and his fur coat, he would slash throats to ensure that his legacy stayed alive, forever cursed to seek revenge for killing him in a racially motivated attack and forever obsessed with keeping his legacy, his fear and the faith in his ghost, alive. A vengeful phantom.

You figured it would take your mind away from being lonely if you tried it, even if you didn't believe in such a thing. You approached the mirror, sighing heavily as you nodded to yourself.

"Candyman," you started, "Candyman, Candyman, Candyman, Candyman… wherefore art thou, Candyman?"

You scoffed, shaking your head and daring to laugh softly; of course nothing happened, it was stupid to assume that-

The lights outside the room flickered. A sudden warmth in the room as if a fire had been lit in the corner, but when you checked the radiator, it was stone cold. Odd.

Maybe it was just a last blast through to make sure that all the water had been used up so the boiler didn't explode or something. The lights probably just needed a bulb change, nothing more. It couldn't have been anything more than that.

Shrugging, you left the room and entered the kitchen, intending to light a cigarette; but you weren't alone. You could feel something staring at the back of your head, an intense glare that made you frown as the hairs at the back of your neck stood on edge.

You bit down on the inside of your lips, frowning as you growled under your breath. You slowly turned around, meeting a cold and lifeless glare. Blue eyes sharp on you as the figure slowly reached out.

"Oh, John, it's only you," you breathed out. "I thought you were over in Verdun? Did they send you back?"

Slowly, he nodded. "Had to. The fire got me."

You furrowed your brows, your eyes going up and down his form and trying to pick out any detail. But in the low light, you couldn't see shit. "Come closer."

He nodded again, and although you didn't hear it, he stepped forward slightly, coming out of the shadows. His face. His eyes were still blue, but there was a milky sheen over them. His hands were black like charcoal, only a few specks of dark red on his fingers and the backs of his hands. He stank of smoke.

Across his face, the flesh was dark pink and red, some of it stretched to reveal gashes that showed off crusty and dark green scabs where muscle should have been. The edges of his trousers at the end were torn and ripped, frayed and looked… looked almost as if they had been burned.

You looked closer, noticing the holes in his shirt; the one on his chest was gaping, letting you see all the way to his bone and how it was slowly chipping away with falling ash. You swallowed thickly.

"John?" You asked hoarsely. "What happened?"

"An accident," he stated, shaking his head. The bones and thick scabs cracked loudly. "I met a man, Daniel Robitaille… he told me that we can be together forever, Lieutenant."

You shook your head. Although you weren't sure where, you had heard that name before, and a soft feeling of dread washed over you. "John… this can't be."

"You can be with me forever," Price told you, pulling a knife from his ripped and torn pocket and holding it out to you. "Be my victim, puppy."

You took the knife, not sure what you were doing as you let out a shaky breath. "John…"

"Shh, shh, shh," he hushed gently. "It's alright."

"I want to know what happened, first."

"Me and Gaz were searching a warehouse," he explained with a harsh sigh, "standard procedure, we just needed some scraps and Kate said there was plenty in there… we didn't think that the yanks would mistake us… and throw Molotov cocktails through the windows… I made sure Gaz got out safely… I knew the fire would get me… I knew… knew I had to go back to you. The second I felt the flames, I knew I had to get back to you."

You clenched your jaw, your grip on the knife tightening as you nodded. "What do I have to do?"

"Slit your throat," he told you, his voice trembling slightly. "Or your wrists. I don't want you to suffer."

You sat down on the floor, rolling your sleeves up as you stared up at him. "And I'll never have to be without you again?"

"No," Price replied, sitting beside you and putting his hand between your shoulders. His touch was scorching, and made you flinch slightly. "Once you do this, you're stuck with me, honey, forever."

You nodded. "I'm scared, John."

"It's alright," he told you, shaking his head and gently rubbing your back, leaving a trail of dark grey smeared across your clothes. "I've got you. I'm not leaving. We'll do this together."

Gently, he laid his hand on yours, and began to guide you as you slowly raked the blade down your wrist as hard as you could to make sure it was deep enough; he rolled your other sleeve up, and although the blood splashed onto your skin, you managed to do it again.

Weak, you fell into him, and Price was quick to get behind you, holding you in his arms as your blood seeped and coated the grey laminate floors. He took the knife, and stuffed it back into his pocket.

"It's alright," he kept saying, "in no time, we'll be together forever… you'll always be my ghost, and I'll always be yours."

[whump-card]

Oneshot: Tempeter

This is a story I started and then abandoned a while back, but rereading it today I realized it's rather quite nice and works as a one-shot!

4952 words.

CW: This one's pretty light! Name-calling, exhaustion, overworking, collapse, bumps and bruises. Medieval-ish semi-ownership of servants.

~~~

“Is there anything else you need, Lord Hyland?” Tempeter stepped away from the tray he had set on the Lord’s desk with a shallow bow. The Lord’s dinner, grilled fish, was beautifully plated with a dark sauce and greenery. The cutlery and glass of white wine were flawlessly aligned beside the plate, just as they should be. That was Tempeter’s job, as the Lord’s steward: to deliver perfection, in every category. He’d already overseen the preparation of the next room, Hyland’s bedchamber, for the Lord to retire for the night. His dressing gown was laid out, and an iron bedwarmer was heating in the merrily burning well-stoked fireplace. The ebb and flow of his many tasks came naturally to Tempeter after decades of service. Perhaps he took the stairs a little slower in his old age, but he didn’t let that impact his duties. As the head of the Lord’s servants, he knew how to wisely delegate and lead the staff to achieve an efficient and silent machine of a household.

“Actually, Tempeter… I wish to speak with you.” Lord Hyland shuffled aside his papers to focus his full attention on Tempeter, looking him up and down. Tempeter was an elegant older gentleman with a long pale face and silver hair neatly pulled into a low tail at the nape of his neck. He alternated between two finely tailored suits that befitted his high station in the house - he wore the burgundy one today - and stood in highly-polished black shoes.

The Lord’s request might have caught a younger version of Tempeter off guard, but the aging manservant took the break in routine in stride.

“Of course, my Lord.” He folded his hands behind his back and waited, already anticipating what the Lord might be after. One of the Lord’s prize horses was lame, and the Lord had been stalling putting the poor thing out of its misery. Or perhaps, he needed assistance writing a letter to his ailing aunt - the Lord struggled with gentle words. Or maybe -

“I’m giving you to Prince Leofold,” Lord Hyland blurted out, unable to look Tempeter in the face.

Tempeter’s face remained neutral. It would be horribly unprofessional to show his shock and confusion. He wasn’t about to ask any foolish questions either; he waited silently for the Lord to continue, his hands gripping each other tightly behind his back.

“I’ve tried absolutely everything to get the little bugger’s attention.” Lord Hyland fussed meaninglessly with the papers on his desk. “Perhaps with a reminder of me in his daily life, he’ll… come around.”

To the idea of marrying Lord Hyland’s daughter, he meant. Questions danced in Tempeter’s mind - when would this happen? Would they travel to the Palace? But he knew that, contrary to the state of his desk, Lord Hyland was an organized man. He would explain it all, if only Tempeter could still his shaking hands and rising breath and focus.

“You have served me well, Tempeter, so well, just as you served my father before me. Truly, you are… the greatest gift I can offer him. I hope you understand that my decision is a compliment. You are fit for a future king.” Lord Hyland’s words flowed awkwardly, as they always did when he spoke emotionally. He cleared his throat, seemingly deciding that he’d said enough, and moved on to the logistical side of things, speaking more easily.

“The prince’s birthday is in two months. We will attend his feast at the Palace. In the meantime, you will choose and train up a replacement for me. The prince will be notified so that his household can prepare accommodations for you.” Lord Hyland’s eyes finally found his servant’s face. “Please, Tempeter. Speak freely. What are your thoughts?”

Tempeter’s thoughts were of a far too hurt and ridiculous nature to express. Servants and nobility cannot be friends. A noble giving away a servant is not a betrayal. He fell back on his professionalism.

“If that is your will, I will serve the prince to the best of my abilities.” He inclined his head.

Lord Hyland’s shoulders slumped.

“You hate it.” He rubbed a hand across his face, slick with nervous sweat. “I’m sorry, Tempeter, I truly am, but you’re my last resort. As I said, you’re the finest thing I can gift to him. My only other option was a horse, and I won’t do that.” He shuddered. “I hear he beats his horses.”

~~~

“An old man?” Prince Leofold demanded. “You’re giving me an old man? On my birthday?” He glared down his nose at them from where he lounged in his throne in the back of the great hall, banners and guards stationed behind him. His raised voice attracted the attention of nearby lords and ladies, who watched cautiously from over shoulders and behind fans. This was hardly a shift in the mood of the party; nearly every gift had been met with scrutiny and ridicule.

Lord Hyland bowed again, unnecessarily, anxiously.

“Your Highness, Tempeter Wolfstan has served my household for his entire life, and been the steward since I was a child. He will serve you with wisdom and experience for years to come.”

“Tempeter Wolfstan?” The prince rolled the name around on his tongue, playing with a curl of his long dark hair. “You look nothing like a wolf. With that long face, you look like a horse. A horse, which I would have preferred,” he said pointedly.

It wasn’t Tempeter’s place to say anything. So he didn’t, of course. He stared evenly at the prince’s ribbon- and gem-studded shoes, and was not insulted. Not sad. Not terrified. He half-listened, waiting for something that would cue words or actions from him, as Lord Hyland expounded upon his servant’s many qualities. None came. They were shortly ushered off to the side so that the next gift-giver could be similarly tiraded.

A tan young man with close-cropped curls approached and greeted them.

“Lord Hyland,” he bowed, “And Mr Wolfstan. I’m here to show Mr Wolfstan to his new chambers.”

“Oh!” Lord Hyland seemed startled that Tempeter was actually about to be taken away from him. “Of course, naturally, I see, I…” He looked at Tempeter, swallowing hard. “This is goodbye, then.”

Tempeter felt heat behind his eyes and lump in his throat but nothing made it through to his calm exterior. He bowed.

“It has been an honor and a pleasure serving you, Lord Hyland.”

“Oh, none of that, my man,” the Lord said gruffly, “Here.” He held out his hand, as if they were equals. Tempeter couldn’t tell whether it felt wrong or right when he clasped the Lord’s hand and they shook.

“Someday, when the prince marries Eloise, we will be one household again,” Lord Hyland said, still squeezing Tempeter’s hand, “I look forward to that day.” He released his hand and stepped back. “Fare thee well, Tempeter.”

Tempeter inclined his head. 

“Safe travels home, Lord Hyland.”

Tempeter straightened and watched as the man he’d seen born, seen grow up, seen become a strong young man and then a father, turned and walked away.

We are not friends. We are not family.

Tempeter refused to unstop the well of tears within him. He refused to create a poor first impression upon the new staff he would be leading. His new household. The first member of which was speaking to him.

“I’m Chastain Lowett,” the young man bobbed his head, “I look forward to serving under you, Mr Wolfstan. Your fine reputation precedes you.”

Tempeter had to breathe for a moment before he could trust his voice to speak.

“Well met, Chastain,” he said. Chastain was already gazing up at him, expecting orders. That, Tempeter could manage. Work would be a welcome distraction. He reached into his jacket - a new brocade that Lord Hyland had gifted him, fit for a servant at a royal feast - and consulted his pocketwatch.

“At what time do you expect the prince to retire?” he asked briskly.

“From a feast like this, two or three o’clock, sir,” Chastain informed him, “More regularly, midnight.”

So the prince is a night owl. Tempeter filed that information away for later.

“Then we have time for you to give me a brief tour of the prince’s quarters. Then we shall prepare the prince’s chambers for him.”

“We can take care of that, sir, if you’d rather spend your first night here settling in,” Chastain offered, “You must be exhausted from traveling all day.”

Tempeter was indeed tired, but he also knew what an evening to himself would mean. He would only sink into his feelings of homesickness, loss, and anxiety. That simply wouldn’t do.

“Unnecessary,” he replied, his voice clipped, “I will begin my duties immediately.”

Tempeter would choose work over taking time for himself any day.

~~~

The entire northern wing of the Palace was Prince Leofold’s domain. It had its own, smaller, dancehall and dining hall, as well as kitchens, laundry, and servant’s quarters. A grand polished wood staircase in the dancehall lead up to a balcony overlooking the hall, and then to the prince’s chambers: a sitting room, a private dining room, a study, and the bedchamber, all decorated with handcrafted furniture, draping brocades and ornately framed oil paintings. There were two guest bedchambers as well. Narrow passages and steep staircases behind the walls connected the prince’s chambers to the kitchens and the servant’s quarters, and a complex system of bells and pull-strings could be used to summon his servants at any time. Outdoors, across a garden courtyard, stood a stable with several fine horses.

Tempeter’s new quarters were larger and finer than his accommodations at House Hyland. He had his own study, with a handful of books left behind by a previous tenant. The bed was large and curtained, and when they arrived a chambermaid was already transferring Tempeter’s clothes from his traveling trunk into a large wardrobe.

Introductions to the staff were made along the way - the other chambermaid that they passed, the kitchen staff, the stablemaster and his boys, the laundress and her girls, and Chastain explained there was another manservant aside from him who was currently attending to the prince at the party. Tempeter took in their names, and had little anxiety about forgetting them; he’d learn them in time, and as their new steward it was much more important for them to remember his name.

It did leave him with a question, which he posed to Chastain as he eyed the abandoned books in his new study.

“Who was the previous steward?”

Chastain hesitated before answering.

“We haven’t had a steward for half a year, sir.”

Tempeter looked at him, aghast.

“Half a year? However did you manage?”

Chastain’s face told Tempeter it hadn’t gone well.

“We did our best, sir. The prince’s bodyguard often directed us, sir.”

“Bodyguard?”

“The lady knight, Lady Gracelyn Brock.” A hint of awe snuck into Chastain’s voice.

“A lady knight?” Tempeter had heard of this, distantly, but had never quite believed it.

“Yes, sir! She had some business today outside of the palace, but should return in the morning.”

“Shouldn’t a bodyguard be with the prince at all times?”

“It’s a symbolic position, sir, it’s…” he glanced away, “It’s a little complicated.”

No time to satiate his curiosity, then. Tempeter checked his pocketwatch once more.

“It’s time we began preparing the prince’s chambers,” he declared.

“But sir, he has yet to return from the feast,” Chastain said. Tempeter glared at him.

“You expect him to sit and wait while we work?”

“Oh, um, well,” Chastain stuttered, “He usually takes a glass of warm wine in his sitting room first, sir.”

“And when do you send for the wine?”

“... When he asks, sir?”

Tempeter sighed.

“We must anticipate the needs of the master, Chastain. Tell the kitchen to start warming wine now, and then fetch one of the chambermaids and begin preparing the sitting room, then the bedchamber. Everything should be ready and waiting for him, not the other way around.”

Chastain nodded, wide-eyed.

“Yes, sir!”

~~~

“A’fire?” Prince Leofold slurred, “There’sssnot usually a fire.”

The prince stood swaying in the sitting room, staring into the bright hearth. Tempeter, standing in the corner by the bell pulls, watched him carefully. The prince gave a grunt of approval and raised a hand.

“Warm wine!”

Tempeter’s hand shot out and yanked a cord, sounding off a bell out of earshot. The prince slumped into an armchair by the fire.

“Heyyy,” he grumbled, “Who’s been sitting in my chair? It’s warm!”

“No one, your highness,” Tempeter spoke soft and clear, “I passed an iron over it so that it would be heated for you.”

“Oh, horse-face.” The prince seemed to only just now notice Tempeter’s presence. “You’re here.” Tempeter let the insult flow past him and focused on what a fine job he was doing - no detail was left out.

The door opened, and Chastain entered with a goblet of wine on a silver tray. Tempeter couldn’t help the small smile creeping onto his face - he’d get this household in order - but it faltered when he saw the prince’s eyes narrow in suspicion.

“That was fast,” Prince Leofold said, plucking the goblet off of the tray and glaring at Tempeter. Chastain glanced nervously at the steward, but Tempeter said nothing. The prince had not asked a question. Speaking unprompted was a recipe for disaster with men like him. Tempeter knew this very well.

Leofold suddenly lurched to his feet and tipped the goblet at his lips, chugging the entire thing within seconds. Then he placed the goblet back on Chastain’s tray with a flourish, and grinned at Tempeter wildly.

“Lessee what else you’ve done!”

He strode to the door and Tempeter moved to open it for him, but the prince pushed through on his own and marched down the hallway to his bedchamber. At the very least there were guards in the hallway who opened the next door for him. Tempeter and Chastain followed him in as he swept around the room, taking in all the ways in which it had been prepared for him. Another fire burned in this room’s hearth. The wall sconces were lit. The prince’s silken nightshirt and dressing gown were laid out neatly on the canopy bed. The bed itself was turned down and warmed. The prince came to a stop in the middle of the room, arms akimbo on his hips. Tempter was relieved to see he looked pleased - until he spoke.

“I want a hot bath,” the prince demanded, lifting his chin to look down his nose at Tempeter, “Prepare one for me.”

Tempeter bowed automatically.

“Yes, your highness.” He turned to Chastain to start issuing orders.

“Wait!” Leofold boomed, and when Tempeter looked at him he saw a suppressed smile playing at the edges of the prince’s mouth. “I want you to do it. All of it. Since your work is… So impeccable,” he gestured widely at the room, “I want the water fetched by you. Horse-face.”

Chastain gasped. All of it. That meant… bringing the wooden tub from wherever it was stored to the bedchamber. Boiling water in the kitchen. Carrying the water, bucket by bucket, up to the prince’s room. Helping the prince get undressed. Bringing the prince whatever he wanted during his bath. Then draining the bath, bucket by bucket. It would be unseemly to pour it out the window, Tempeter would have to carry it back downstairs. Then the bathtub as well, to be set out to dry in an appropriate place.

None of it was within the steward’s high station. None of it was meant to be done by one person alone. It could take hours, without anyone helping him, and Tempeter had been awake since dawn of what was now the previous day.

In spite of everything, Tempeter felt a surge of adrenaline. He could do this. He would prove himself. Prince Leofold would see his value. He inclined his head.

“Of course, your highness. I’ll see to it personally.”

A moment later he was striding down the hallway, Chastain trotting alongside him.

“Where is the tub?” Tempeter asked.

“In the storage room, here - Sir, you can’t really do it all alone -”

“Oh, I intend to!” Tempeter threw open the storage room door and couldn’t help but smile. This would be challenging, certainly, but once he passed this test (and he knew he would) surely the prince would warm up to him.

He started having some doubts on the fifth bucket.

His thighs burned and wobbled from going up and down the servant’s staircase. The insides of his arms were painfully strained. His back ached. His knees complained. He’d already splashed near-boiling water on his hands more than once.

The bath was only half full.

Prince Leofold smirked at the steward from where he leaned against the post of his bed.

“Bring the water up the front staircase, horse-face,” he ordered, “I want to watch.”

Tempeter could only bow in acceptance.

“Please let me help, Mr Wolfstan!” Chastain hissed, as Tempeter nearly stumbled on his way back into the kitchen. Tempeter resisted responding, silently carrying his empty bucket to the line of cookfires, all burning brightly with a host of waterpots hung over them. Chastain and the kitchen staff, all thoroughly warned off of helping by their new steward, watched as Tempeter found a boiling pot, emptied it into his bucket, and refilled the pot at the water pump. It was just as tedious as it was taxing.

“Don’t you all have better things to do?” Tempeter called out, without looking away from his work.

An uncomfortable silence was the only reaction to his words.

Prince Leofold grinned delightedly down at Tempeter from the balcony as the steward climbed the grand staircase in the dance hall. Each step made the next once feel impossible, but Tempeter breathed, and moved, forcing his quivering arms and legs to cooperate. He felt sweat beading over his entire body, running like bugs down his temple, his spine, the backs of his knees.

The prince whistled.

“Maybe you’re a workhorse after all!”

Tempeter suddenly realized he didn’t know what the prince wanted out of this. He obviously didn’t want an actual bath. But if this were a test of Tempeter’s abilities, it was one that was impossible to pass. Tempeter could see that now; his legs were going to give out before the bath was even full. He’d been given an insurmountable task, and the prince knew it, and now Tempeter knew it too.

Tempter paused on the stairs, chest heaving and legs trembling. He knew what the prince wanted.

Entertainment.

This whole affair was a cruel game to the drunken prince, and Tempeter was a fool for not seeing it sooner. A complete and utter fool. Prince Leofold was practically vibrating with anticipation, waiting for the moment that Tempeter’s body - aged and frail, the steward now realized - would give out and send the old man tumbling down the stairs.

“Don’t give up now!” the prince’s mocking voice cut through Tempeter’s thoughts, “I’m sure you can do it, horse-face!”

Something snapped within Tempeter, and his blood ran hotter than the water he was carrying. He surged up the steps, fueled by a cavern of rage that plunged far deeper than the current situation. This was not the time to explore it, however, as his mind was overcome by the pain of his leg muscles stretching and contracting as he labored up the steps. Eight more. Five more. Three more - 

He didn’t make it.

He shifted his weight onto the next step and his leg folded beneath him like a ragdoll. His back leg couldn’t bear his full weight alone, so it followed suit. He instinctively dropped the bucket to try to catch himself, but his hands slapped uselessly against the smooth wood of the stairs and slipped off. The bucket thunked-splash-thunked down the stairs past him, spilling its contents. Tempeter’s feet slid out from beneath him and his shins cracked against the edges of the stairs, then his ribs and forearms. He felt as if he were falling in slow motion, seeing every impact coming and being helpless to stop it. He heard laughter, but was too panicked to process it. His legs kicked weakly, trying to find purchase on the polished wood, but that only sent him sliding down faster, each jutting angle of the steps dragging along his body, causing countless bruises. The muscles holding his head out of danger faltered, and a step slammed into his chin, knocking his teeth together with a painful clack that reverberated through his skull.

Suddenly, he was still. A strong hand was fisted in the back of his collar, halting his slide.

“Prince Leofold!” a powerful voice boomed - a woman’s voice, full of rageful indignation. “What the hell is going on here?”

Tempeter grabbed at the stairs, and managed to get his knees underneath him, gasping for air, as the prince hemmed and hawed from the balcony.

“I was just… Testing the new steward. It was only a bit of fun, Grace, honest!” the prince whined.

“Fun?” The woman’s voice echoed through the hall and vibrated Tempeter’s aching ribs. “I have been fully informed of your actions tonight, highness, and how dare you treat a servant this way, and a steward, no less!” The hand on Tempeter’s collar shook with fury. “Go to your room, I’ll deal with you in the morning when you’re sober.”

“You’re not my mother!” the prince taunted.

“I wish I were, so that I might bend you over my knee and beat the daylights out of you! Go, away with you!”

Tempeter remained crouched, head bowed, and listened to the prince’s retreating steps and the woman’s heated breathing. His face was flushed bright red. He was unbelievably embarrassed - not only had he fallen, but he had been rescued by a woman of a far higher station. Anyone who could speak to the crown prince like that was someone to be feared and respected, and Tempeter’s first impression on her was that of a clumsy old fool.

Inevitably, the hand on his collar tugged.

“Up with you, man. Let’s see you.”

Tempeter attempted to rise, but his body refused to cooperate. The woman caught him more securely this time, under the arms.

“Here, here, just sit.”

She awkwardly maneuvered him around to sit on the stairs. Temepeter could now see that she had caught him about halfway down - who knows how badly he might have been hurt had he fallen the whole way.

The woman crouched next to him, keeping a steadying hand on his shoulder, and Tempeter finally raised his eyes to look at her.

She was a stunning woman with strong features, about ten years his junior. She had a thick build, and wore a dark gold gambeson with a high collar over - trousers. Tempeter dared not look. Golden-brown hair streaked with silver fell loose around her shoulders, and her deeply suntanned and wind-weathered skin contrasted her dark blue eyes like a beach against the ocean. Tempered had been to the ocean once before as a boy, and was struck speechless then just as he was now. 

“I’m Lady Gracelyn Brock.” Her lips were moving, but it took Tempeter a moment to register her words. “You must be the new steward, Mr Wolfstan?”

He nodded mutely. This was her, of course. The lady knight.

“Did you break anything?” she asked.

Had he? Tempeter’s eyes found the bucket at the bottom of the stairs. It had a wide crack down the side.

“The bucket…” he breathed, awash with guilt.

Lady Brock blinked.

“I meant your bones, sir.”

“Oh!” Flustered, Tempeter raised shaky hands to pat down his chest. “I do not believe so.” He came to himself a little more, remembering his manners. He dropped his head.

“Thank you, Lady Brock,” he said emphatically, “I am greatly in your debt.”

She scoffed, though not unkindly.

“Truly, I should be apologizing for the prince’s mean streak. I’ve done what I can, but I’m very limited in my ability to discipline him. I should have thought ahead and been here when you arrived, to prevent exactly this.” She sighed, and offered a hand. “Can you stand?”

Tempeter stared at her hand for a moment. It was calloused and strong, undoubtedly the hand of a knight - but she was a lady as well. Tempeter didn’t know what the rules were for interacting with her. As she was of a higher rank, he decided to follow her lead. He grasped her hand and tried to stand with a grunt, but his legs felt like they were made of jelly and he sat back down again, hard.

“Here,” Lady Brock sat down next to him and slid an arm around his waist, “Put an arm over my shoulders.”

Now this, surely, was inappropriate in some way. But Tempeter saw no other option, so he obeyed. Lady Brock smiled encouragingly.

“Three, two, one, hup!”

They stood together, and the lady knight easily lifted Tempeter’s weight. He may as well have been a straw-stuffed scarecrow, the way he sagged against her. He felt his face flush with renewed embarrassment. He clung to her as they eased down the staircase, one step at a time. Neither spoke, too focused on the task at hand. Tempeter’s whole body trembled, and at every step he feared he would fall and bring Lady Brock down with him. But she held him upright, steady and unwavering, all the way to the bottom of the stairs.

Upon reaching level ground, Tempeter started to let out a sigh or relief; but it caught in his throat when he spotted the group of people watching from the archway into the dining hall. Nearly the entire serving staff was watching him, rapt and wide-eyed. How long had they been there? Had they all borne witness to Tempeter’s humiliation? What would they think of him now?

Lady Brock seemed to be seeing them for the first time as well.

“Gawkers!” she scolded, “Away! Shoo!”

But Tempeter knew there was only one thing he could do in the face of this mess; his job.

“Wait!” he called, drawing himself up and straight as he could while still being held up by the lady knight. “Chastain!”

The young man jumped forward. “Sir!”

“You must see to several things,” Tempter said, willing his voice to be strong. “First, the prince is still waiting on his bath. It must be filled and he must be attended to. Second, have a maid clean up the spilled water on the stairs and the broken bucket. Third, enough time had passed that the prince’s bed must be rewarmed, remember to do this before he retires. Fourth -”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Lady Brock interrupted him. “Tiff, run along and prep the steward’s room, will you?”

One of the maids bobbed a curtsy and scampered off.

“With all due respect, Lady Brock,” Tempeter said loudly, turning his head to look her in the eye, “Please let me do my job.”

The lady knight blinked at him in shock, and for a moment Tempeter was terrified he’d overstepped. But then she smiled, tilting her head to the side as she examined him curiously.

“As you wish, Mr Wolfstan. Carry on.”

Tempeter cleared his throat and looked back at Chastain.

“Fourth, ensure the prince’s breakfast will ease his hangover. Plenty of breads and tea.” Tempeter sucked in a breath, wracking his brain for anything else, but let it out with, “That is all.”

Chastain bobbed his head with a smile. “Yes, sir!”

Tempeter frowned slightly. Why was he smiling? Was he laughing at Tempeter? In fact, as Lady Brock assisted him through the small crowd and towards the kitchens and servants quarters, he saw that much of the staff held small, guarded smiles. He didn’t know what to make of it until Lady Brock murmured in his ear.

“They’re impressed with you.”

“Impressed?” Tempeter hissed back without thinking, “I made a complete fool of myself!”

“But you almost succeeded. And you didn’t beg for mercy.” They made their way through the kitchen, silent except for the several boiling pots. “Also, you gave me a good reason to tell him off. Everyone loves seeing that.”

Tempeter still couldn’t shake the sickening feeling that he’d made a poor impression on everyone, especially the lady knight. When they reached his room he was at least a little comforted to find a fire burning and his dressing gown laid out. Lady Brock eased him down to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Do you want me to send one of the boys to help you?” she asked, moving to stand in front of him.

“No, thank you,” Tempeter shook his head, “That won’t be necessary. But do tell Chastain to wake me an hour before the prince rises.”

Lady Brock smiled at him incredulously.

“You do realize you’re not going to be able to walk tomorrow, yes?”

Tempeter nodded.

“I will work from my study. I can still receive reports and give orders.”

“You are too dedicated,” she said, shaking her head with an enchanting laugh.

Tempeter suddenly realized he was alone in his room with a woman. Anxiety gripped his heart. 

“I - I thank you again, Lady Brock,” he bowed his head, “Goodnight.”

She didn’t seem to pick up on his nervousness, or his soft dismissal. 

“Your thanks are unneeded, Mr Wolfstan,” she said, “Is there anything else I can do for you before I go?”

“No, thank you, Lady Brock.”

She hesitated, now realizing she was being gently ushered out by words; but she smiled, and inclined her head.

“Goodnight, Mr Wolfstan.”

[thatqueerbat]

✨behold✨, the tale of my seemingly simple trip to the gps that got so. so. So overcomplicated. it was A Time i do not wish to experience again, so get cursed with it so i don't have to suffer alone

/hj it wasn't actually That bad. but still.

>get a text from my gps saying i need to update my height*/weight/bp with them before they can represcribe my adhd meds. pretty standard, sure whatever

>i go to the gps finally after a week bcus i haven't actually had my adhd meds for a dew months Anyway bcus theres supply issues 🙂🙂🙂

>in the waiting room theres an obvious blood pressure machine and set of scales. weight is easy to take

>bp machine says it's out of ink, plz write down your numbers. ok sure, bit of a pain, but i can do that

>take the reading, something i hate doing. just feels all wrong and claustrophobic. but get it done

>the numbers flash on the screen. for a Literal Second. if that. very helpful for trying to write down the buggers. no warning from the post it note saying its out of ink

>i add a warning to the post it note about how the numbers disappear immediately

>i have to take the reading Again, Filming the damn screen so that i dont miss the numbers again. Fun Fact those flash so weirdly on a recording so one frame doesn't actually have the whole number. you have to watch for a few seconds to decipher what the reading actually was. Fun 🙂🙂

>but hey its done now at last. now height, that should be easy. except

>i cannot see a height... stick. scale. measure. thing... whatever. anywhere. so i go back to reception to ask them

>the queue is out the door now. it was empty earlier.

>i can't even make my way around the barrier to get into the queue, even though i was here before all of them.

>im stuck waiting to ask a stupid question about getting my goddamn height for genuinely 5 minutes or so. bcus more people Keep On Arriving. and blocking my way to even join the queue properly. the world decided that no, you will be stuck here awkwardly.

>finally the queue dies down enough that i can actually get into the damn thing. bless the old guy who was the last person before me, who was the only person who said 'hey this person is before me, go ahead'. i let him go ahead, not like i haven't waited enough already (besides hes probably there to sign in for an appointment or something more time sensitive)

>get seen by a receptionist. turns out the height fucker was actually right by where i was standing that whole time. except its just a tiny slider stuck to the wall thats totally inconspicuous so i had no idea it existed the whole time 🙂🙂🙂🙂

>(also its My turn to hold up the queue bcus i need to take off my stompy boots where one zips broken so i have to use pliers to pull it down. hehehe vengeance for all the waiting i had to do /j)

finally was able to give them everything, and also tell them i need an appointment about my meds Anyway bcus they've been a mess this whole time. but christ i was not expecting all of that to happen during what i assumed would be a simple 3 minute stop in.

🙂We Love Dealing With Healthcare 🙂

*never mind that was never mentioned, i made that up somehow. it was a logical assumption based on everything else they wanted tho, i think. but it does mean a decent two thirds of the shenanigans were for nothing and an absolute waste of time 🙂

[fuzzyfancreatorbiscuit]

Ok this was that one shot I cleaned up, hope you guys enjoy it.

Not so bad!

It was a nice enough place, to go on a blind date. It was a hole in the wall café, that I liked to frequent. Most days would have been perfect, if I wasn't being stood up for the 8th time this month. I had corner table next to the front window as rain fell on the pane of glass in a relaxing retheme, mix with the muted tone of the brick walls and soft jazz playing in toon with the weather. Any other day it would have been perfect just sitting here with what ever drink I felt like that day. But as my luck would have it, I'm sitting alone again in brand new sun dress. He could have texted me telling me he didn't want to come or that he changed his mind, no he couldn't do that. Instead he texted my sister telling her that he took one look at me and didn't like what he saw, told her I wasn't his type and to let me down easy, say that he was in a business meeting or something. Huh business meet my foot, he owned his own company and he was the only employee. That would be a sight to see him talking to himself and getting mad at whoever ate his lunch that was clearly marked, his. My sister on the other hand is lovely and told me the truth. So I texted her back, thanks for letting me know so I don't end up sitting here until closing time waiting for someone that wasn't going to show.

Don’t let this get you down, they're are plenty of guys out there that would love to see you in that new dress we purchased together. He's an idiot for not giving you a chance. Thanks sis, but I think I'm done with blind dates for awhile if you don't mind. My sister tried to cheer me up but fails. Hey at least he wasn't as bad as that guy who shook your hand said he needed to go to the bathroom and left through the window, or the guy who came up looked at you and said, "wow you look fatter than in your photo." Nice sis did you ever work for a suicided hot line cause I think you missed your calling. Ok, ok I just don't want you feeling bad after all that hard work you did losing all that weight. I get you are trying to make me feel better but I still have a long way to go and I really should try to get to my final goal before I try again, and no more blind dates. Alright just as long as you are sure you are ok? I'm fine and I get to walk in the rain to calm down so by the time I get home I'll be as right as rain. Wink, wink. Uh boo that was terrible, get better material. Lol you love it and don't try to hide it, I know your husband after all and he's 10 times worse than I am. Just text me when you get home so I know no monster has eaten you. Oh come on they haven't had one case where a monster tried to eat someone so knock it off. Just text me please. Ok fine I will.

My sister could worry to much sometimes. She starting getting really bad when monsters set up a district roughly 5 miles away from my favorite café. She feels that some monster is going to kidnap me or eat me. Frankly I think its ridiculous that anyone would want to kidnap me, I was ok looking brown curly hair hour glass figure but I had some weight on me. I was losing it and I've lost quit a bit, but I am no where close to swim suite modal. I had no elusions of myself, I can be pretty but it took me long time to realize this cause I always felt like I wasn't good enough or pretty enough for anyone to take one look at me and say damn you look fine. I always struggled with weight and thought if any guy was going to look at me that way, was going to be one of those men that liked heavy set women. I found four and each one ended up choosing someone else. I sept out of the café hearing the bell ring for the last time this night and started on my way home. I didn't hail a cab nore did I drive here I knew it was going to rain and I was 90% sure that bugger wasn't going to show up. A text before the date told me he wasn't going to like how I looked even though I pull out all the stops. I had a hair cut, nice makeup but not to much, and new dress that made me look good. But it wasn't enough to get any guy to look my way. That’s fine, I was used to it, probably would go over my head if a guy gave me a compliment for once that wasn't related by marriage or birth.

I was so lost in my own thoughts that I didn't see the tall figure I was approaching. Next thing I know I'm falling over with my heals going over my head and landing something soft. I thought I was going to hit hard ground but something or someone broke my fall. Feeling awful that I wasn't looking where I was going I turn to apologize but before I could speak a word I'm met with sharp teeth and glowing eyelights. See somethin you like sweetheart? His baritone voice could be felt through my entire body causing me to blush like an over ripe tomato. Snapping out of it, I realize my hem of my dress had ridden up and his hands were on my thigh from how we landed. His sharp grin widens and I go to stand up only hit my head trying to stand up. Wow take it easy doll, you'll crack that pretty little skull of yours and I would feel bad if I had to take ya to a doc. Taking a slower approach I stand up this time avoiding the bar I didn't notice the first time. After readjusting my dress the best I could since it was sopping wet I realize how tall he was now that he was no longer on the ground with me on top. I feel another blush rise on me face, he had a nice suit on with no jacket but had a silver and red embroidered vest with a black button up dress shirt that he started to roll up his sleeves as he looked at the ground most likely look for his cufflinks. Feeling guilty, I start looking on the ground for something flashy that would go with his onesome. He cocked his head, what cha lookin for sweetheart? From the looks of it you lost your cufflinks I'm helping you look as sorry for bumping into you. A deep throaty chuckle that also vibrated through his chest that made you lose your train of thought. Damn it, what was this man doing to you, you just met him? Don't get to attached Y/N, he probably has beautiful girlfriend. How did ya know I lost my cufflinks toots? Don't call me that and you rolled up your French cuffs to get them out of the way and were looking at the ground a second ago. I just put two plus two together. Heh well I would much preferer looking at you doll but my brother will kill me if I have lost those damn cufflinks. You didn't hear what he said cause you spotted a couple of jewel encrusted skull cufflinks on the ground and bend down to pick them up Are these what you were looking for? Extending my hand holding them palm face up open with them in the center of my palm. His grin widens slightly reaching out to take them from hand only to get a strange tingling feeling when he touched my hand causing me to blush again, what the hell is wrong with me???

Thank you sweetheart you saved my life, how's bout I buy ya a drink to say thanks for findin them for me? I'm soaking wet I would feel bad giving some poor bar owner a mess to clean up, not only that I know my makeup is all running down my face and my once flowy dress is clinging to me and I don't have the energy to deal with all the jokes from drunk assholes about a fat chick walks into a bar, or wet one at that. Just look at me! Oh I'm lookin, com'n no one will mess with cha is you are with me. One little drink to say thank you. Sans didn't like how she talk about how people were treatin her. She had a beautiful soul not to mention sexy as hell looking temping for him to get her out of that wet dress and warm her up in the fun way, He also liked how he can make her blush so easily as well. Y/n rub her arm up and down looking across the street at the bar called Grilby's then turned to him and asked him what his name was. Sans, sans the skeleton, and your name sweetheart or do I keep calling you sweetheart? Laughing a little bit she told him her name was Y/n L/n. What's so funny doll? The way you deliver your name you sound like you are james bond. She told him with a snicker. hu does this james bond always get the girl? Lol yes he does sometime the girl doesn't last full day before they end up in his bed. Well call me james bond toots. Ha I'm not that type of james bond girl buy me dinner first. Oh if that’s all it takes I'll pay, he says with a wide grin. Down boy buy me a drink first lets see how it goes cause you might not like me as you get to know me. Not possible, I'm not so bad of a guy you might fall for me before you finish your first drink. Well see. And don’t call me toots.

[martincwhitney]

The Red Lion

I met Dave at The Red Lion, one of our old haunts from the time we worked together twenty-two years before. My memory of that time was not great because, to be honest, it was pretty boring. I was an IT contractor and Dave was not exactly my boss, but a senior employee of the client with a supervisory role over my job. So far, so dull. However, fortunately for me, Dave was a decent guy and fun to be with. We went out drinking fairly regularly after work. He was into rock music and football and knew how to have a laugh. We weren’t best mates or anything but more than just work colleagues. There was some mutual respect there. He could be a bit difficult sometimes at work. A bit of a blocker if he didn’t agree with something, a stubborn bugger in fact, but we got on fine almost all the time, and the pub was another matter entirely. Dave was always good with a beer in hand.  We never discussed work down the pub, it was taboo, apart from bitching about the bosses of course. He was a bit older than me and maybe a bit wiser, certainly wiser about the company we worked for. Anyway, I was looking forward to meeting him again after all this time. It would be fun. We would have a laugh.

The Red Lion was an old-fashioned pub. You know, loads of dark wood panelling, booths down one wall and a long bar with stools. Back in the day, the air would have been thick with smoke and the ceiling was still nicotine-yellow, even though nobody could have smoked in there for years.

Dave was there ahead of me. I saw him right away in a booth near the door, half a glass of bitter in front of him. He smiled when he saw me.

He looked like shit.

I smiled back, badly, hoping my horror didn’t show while knowing it must be obvious.

‘Hello, mate,’ I offered him my hand. I was glad he didn’t try to get up and greet me. His hand was thin, dry and cool. His eyes were grey ringed and sunken in his pale face. I slid into the booth opposite him, unable to think of anything to say. My mind was frozen blank.

‘How are you, John?’ His voice was as thin as his face. ‘Keeping well?’

‘Yes, thanks,’ I nodded like an idiot. I should have asked how he was, the obvious reflex question, but I stopped myself and the question hung in the air between us like a glass wall of silence. I didn’t ask because I knew the answer would be bad and I didn’t want to hear it. I wanted to get away from this horrible situation and was disgusted with myself. I was appalled by my reaction. I needed to get away for a second to collect myself. I needed a drink. ‘I’ll get a drink,’ I slid out of the booth. ‘Want another?’

Dave shook his bald head very slightly and gently as if his skinny neck might break so he had to be careful. I hurried to the bar feeling clumsy. The pub wasn’t busy, and the middle-aged barmaid served me immediately. She smiled a welcome and I ordered a pint of London Pride. As she was pulling it she nodded her bottle-blond head towards Dave and looked me in the eye, lips pursed and painted eyebrow raised. Her unspoken question was obvious—Is he alright? She seemed a friendly sort and I liked her for taking an interest in people. I was grateful for her concern and humanity, but all I could do was shrug with a rueful smile. I felt inadequate, somehow a lesser human than her. I needed to get a grip.

‘There you go, love,’ she said, passing my pint. ‘Need anything else?’

‘No, thanks,’ I gave her a fiver.

‘Well if you do just shout,’ she said with another nod towards Dave.

‘Yes, I will, thank you.’

As soon as I sat down Dave answered the obvious question before I had a chance to pluck up the courage and ask it.

’Prostate cancer. Inoperable.’

‘Jesus. Mate.’

‘It’s okay.’

‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘It’s okay,’ he made a smile.

I took a long pull of beer, blinking hard.

‘I’ve got a month, maybe six weeks.’

‘Jesus.’

‘Yeah.’

We sat in silence for a few minutes which felt like a few hours. I looked at my beer until he cleared his throat. I looked up then but couldn’t help my eyes flicking away from his face almost immediately. I couldn’t bare to look at his pale, big-eyed, hollow-cheeked face. I stared hard out the window at the crowded street and then over to the bar where the barmaid was serving a young couple white wine. She looked so alive and happy. She was smiling like she was proud of the youngsters for being so grown-up as to come in here and order wine rather than cokes or alcopops. She welcomed them to her establishment like a mother, happy to serve these nice young people—.

‘I have something to say, John.’

My mind and face snapped back to point at Dave.

‘I have something to tell you.’

‘Okay.’

Dave looked down at his hands while he told me why he called, after all these years, to arrange this drink with me. Because something had haunted him for all those years. Because he needed to unburden himself before the end.

‘I hope you can forgive me, John.’

I was shaking my head, ‘Dave, please—‘

And then he told me what it was.

Ten seconds later I was on the street striding away from the pub as fast as I could go without actually running. I made for the tube on autopilot. Heading home without thinking about it as I had done hundreds of times. Thousand of times. The familiar streets, stations, stairs, platforms, and trains went by without consequence. I passed five thousand people who didn’t know or care about me and I ignored them all. I stood with my face to the black window of the underground train and watched the blackness rushing past. I left the last station and walked the dark, wet streets to my front door and stopped, key in hand. My head was full of questions without answers.

How can I go in?

How can I face her?

What will I say to her?

I stood in silence for a few minutes which felt like a few hours.

The sound of footsteps came up the road from the station. It would be one of my neighbours coming home from work. They would see me standing in the porch light in front of my own house. They would wonder what I was doing there, but I didn’t care what they thought. I really didn’t care. The steps passed behind me and for a second I thought I heard them falter as if the person was about to stop. I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself and relax my face enough to turn and smile, but no, the steps continued and I breathed out shakily.

I opened the door and went inside silently as if I could creep in without her noticing. As if I could avoid her completely. As if I could be invisible and ignored, like a ghost in my own house.

‘Hi,’ she said coming down the stairs. ‘You’re early.’

‘Hi,’ I said.

‘Good day?’

‘Not too bad,’ I smiled and took off my coat.

‘How was David?’

‘Yeah, pretty good. Enjoying retirement.’

‘Oh?’ The barest hint of a frown.

‘Yeah, he’s looking good too, lost a bit of weight.’

‘Really?’ She turned away. ‘That’s good then.’

‘Yeah, it is,’ I followed her into the kitchen.

---

Inspired by the Reedsy.com prompt Write about two old friends meeting for the first time in years.

Photo by Zach Rowlandson on Unsplash

[madchild-dennis]

I do not want to be EVERYTHING. I HAVE NO DESIRE TO BE EVERYTHING.

I just wanted to created clothes and movies. Do it in a life changing good way. Create jobs, create films that change lives, which even comedic films can do. I just want to solve problems or be creative in these desires NOT world domination nor strike fear through violence. BUT ALL in the same breath I understand what God is doing.

Up to a certain point I liked what God was doing. I could change Jamaica especially make it a sustainable paradise not just to tourists but it’s citizens. Which would help to retrain everyday Jamaicans that they don’t NEED to be EXTREMELY EXCEPTIONAL, wealthy, connected or such to be valued or deserving of good thing.

Then the slavery reparations. My mind blew with SO MANY ideas to smartly enrich the everyday Caribbean citizens (if they wanted it). I loved the idea and with the right team, system and more it would be amazing.

Then the problems or knowing I can’t do it all by myself or without people who can already see the vision weighed in me. Then God making it worst. The person God insist on making the closest to me is the person that CHOSE to cause the MOST PAIN. I might be happier there might be a way out. But to kill, plus knowing the effect it might have on me is a lot to add with ALL the other responsibilities, I’m starting to feel might be too much already. Then if that keeps him in line forever, what kind of FUCKING MARRIAGE IS THAT. Someone who is there only out of fear of death. But I can’t change because God won’t let me. Plus that now make him another job NOT a partner. Then seeing videos online or hearing people like RBG have amazing supportive partners. Partners doing what I’d need like a frigging hug. Or help me out a frigging panic attack or out of frustration with whatever.

No what I get is someone I have to monitor, which I WILL NOT DO. Someone to put on a leash demanding much while hoping for a fuck up to that be able to Ben free of him...kill him. Maybe even making it easier for him to fuck up. Like if he & his mom choose that life but I don’t trust them yet. I might demand he doesn’t speak to her but that she lives with us. A thing that isn’t centered on torture or cruelty but training and hopefully I can regain my trust. But all at the same time hoping for the fuck up to be truly finished.

Which in of itself is RIDICULOUS, yet still necessary. Like why the FUCK do I need to train my husband who is a fucking ADULT to be a husband. All while I WILL not let little thing stress me while I have SO MUCH BUGGER SHIT TO FRY.It’s like why have him in the 1st fucking place. But I also KNOW I can’t do it by myself/without a life partner (a good one).

Thennn if I kill him, anyone after will think I’d do them that. Someone brought that fear up to me when I mentioned it Tom someone who see me & like my wife potential. I also had to highlight how he spent 2+ year since doing what MANY OTHERS would never. Just simply lying denying or saying he don’t me privately or publicly or more is more than enough to be free of him. Especially after the months or such where they happily say otherwise.

Plus if I don’t, I’d be allowing all the 2+ years of shit to be the rest of my fucking life and NO PROGRESS in anything else. Plus I’m certain God won’t let him die any other way. Because I know how to NOT take bullshit and God is demanding (as it has been from the start of this WHOLE journey) BLIND TRUST, by entering the marriage first before I should see the good I was promised or the way out/his death.

Sigh,

Did I mention I HATE MY LIFE.

Because now God adding more and maybe NOT stopping there. Which is frustrating because I don’t want any more responsibility no matter how much more power, money, whatever else or even if it helps others. Especially if I can’t do a good/great job at it. I don’t want to even be missing out of my children’s life, but the amount of meetings, planning. Shit man. Then add that I’ll have a shitty husband or have to leash him. I want to not have to fucking worry about him. Hence NOT letting go of the consequence/threat because I know it’s easier than the stress of worrying/having that emotional stress especially with everything else. Then FIFA or whatever else. Plus having court to deal with people trying to fuck up good/great things. Especially the execution have to be by me cause I am the one with the God-anointed/led responsibility. So not delegate-able. Then making sure it’s fair, true and the right person/persons is executed, especially if God give me a case I have to use my brain and not a God-said this or that.

I get it people aren’t fond of that. But I understand because God knows all. Especially these days people take an inch and turn it into a mile. Or the fact God is all knowing. He knows who’ll change and who won’t. Or who would create future avoidable problems like in the bible. I don’t remember which king was ordered to kill ALLL down to the babies. But a baby & mother or just a baby was spared. Who grew up and generations later Queen Esther risk her life to appeal to the king so that she could help spare the lives of the people.

It’s there over and over again in the bible. 

I just didn’t think I would need to but knowing the bible I wasn’t surprised when I reached there.

Hence why this era I call it the New-Old Testament.

First it’s doing what the Israelites failed to do, as God’s asked in Genesis which was to SHARE the blessing and goodness of God to OTHERS not just keep it to their people.

Second it’s also learning from their mistakes and showing God’s glory all at the same time. NOT repeating it. Especially after having all that evidence of what disobedience, doing you’re own thing and more caused, especially in the long run.

It still doesn’t change the fact that I hate my life.

[head-empty-only-sunshine]

Not So Bad

Moon X Reader

A/N: This is a piece for a little contest in a discord server I'm in! I'm the hottest of garbage at the prompt enemies to lovers, so this is as good as it's gonna get lads. So sorry but I am physically incapable of not cursing in my fics. You have no idea how many times I replaced the word 'fuck' in this LOL

Description: Oh how Moon hated you. As a parts and services worker, you were natural enemies. Alas, he would eventually have to let you do maintenance on him one day, and you decided that day was today. Surprisingly, all it took was a little sweetness to get him to change his mind and convince him it wasn't so bad after all.

Tags: fluff, gn!reader, cursing, enemies to lovers (sorta), Chad is back and more of a dickhead than ever, parts and services!reader

Word Count: 2803

Oh how you hated each other; so much so as that you needed a second person with you at all times when working with them to reduce the chances of either of you ending up dismembered. Sun wasn’t an issue because he was just scared, but Moon was your designated enemy. Why? Because you wore that dreaded clothing that said ‘parts and services’ right across your back, labeling you as a target and an enemy for no other reason than just that. It was almost comical that you had a physical one on one scrap with an entire animatronic on the weekly, though the leftover scars weren’t very funny to the med team. As much as you hated the guy, you still fought against every suggestion to decommission him because deep down you knew that you could work it out. As long as he would let you, that is.

This situation was no different than any other, except right now, Moon had been giving you the slip for an entire two months. The weekly maintenance had been pushed back over and over again by his evasive maneuvers, some encounters ending with claw marks all over your forearms. Today you wouldn’t let him hide any longer though. You could now see the issues going on from the outside, and he would regret not getting maintenance done pretty soon. You’d have to really assert yourself now, because the worry you had for him was starting to get more and more genuine with each passing day. The first task would be to get him to lower his guard, which luckily, you knew exactly how to do.

You still needed to bring a coworker for safety reasons, but said coworker would be the bait. Your buddy Chad was the one coming with you this time, and he was always so easy to roast. One good joke would surely reveal Moon’s location and allow you to get in close to do your job. You were absolutely sure of it.

“Tell me why I need to accompany you again? Aren’t you head tech?” Chad groaned as the two of you pushed your way into the daycare with arms full of tools.

“The owners told me I need someone with me to minimize injury, remember?” You reminded him, throwing a dramatic glance at your still scarred arms.

“Ugh, right. And why is it so damn dark in here? I can’t see anything!” He complained further.

“Sun is afraid so Moon is out to do the hiding for him. He’s damn good at it, I will admit. He’s given me the slip for two months.” You sighed.

“Why don’t you just take him down and shock the bugger? It’s just a robot.”

“Chad please. Dumbasses like you are the reason Sun and Moon hate maintenance. There will be no shocking. How inhumane can you be?” You scolded.

“It’s a machine, _______.” He argued.

“Yeah? And you’re a tool. Wait, no. I take that back. Tools are actually useful, and you’re about as functional as a piece of scrap you moron.”

Chad was horrifically offended by this comment, but you weren’t the only one who found it funny. Moon laughed loudly in the background, enjoying how you mocked him so. This was perfect for you. He was easy to pinpoint now, and this would be your only chance. While Chad stood there like a fish with his mouth open, you left him alone and darted off in the direction of the laugh, throwing yourself into the darkness until you made full contact with a large body of metal. Tackling him to the ground, you sat atop Moon with a victorious smirk, quite proud of yourself.

“You gave yourself away~” You hummed.

“If you don’t get the hell off of me right now I will throw you so hard into the ground your skull will split open.” Moon threatened with a low growl, already preparing to get up and throw you down.

You gave Moon a hefty push with your body and leaned in close, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Look I know we’ve had our differences but I can see the wear and tear on you. Please let me help.” You pleaded in the softest voice you could muster. “I’m not going to change you, hurt you, or decommission you. I’m the new head tech. Whoever worked on you last time… Whatever they did, won’t be happening with me around. Please.”

Moon would’ve snapped one of your limbs by now if it wasn’t for your tone. He’d never seen you look at him so desperately before. He was used to your angry expression you always wore when you gave chase to him. Or perhaps… It wasn’t anger. He analyzed those memories in silence, deciphering the possibility of your previous motives being genuine and worried. He thought that his scanners may have gone out of whack, which really reinforced how badly he needed work done, because he finally realized that your current request was out of desperation at this point.

“You’re awfully quiet so I’m going to take that as a yes.” You said, sitting back up on him. “Chad! Bring me my tools!”

The man responded to your call and dragged over your massive toolbox, thankful for it’s wheels. He finally located you and whistled, impressed by how you had Moon pinned.

“Ah, you got him! You sure he’s gonna stay down or do you need me to give him a shock or two here and there?’ He snickered.

Moon stopped analyzing you after hearing that and shifted his angry, red eyes at Chad. The shocked expression he wore morphed into an even meaner one, teeth gnashed as he tried to get up again. But, he stopped. Why? You spoke.

“Get the hell out of the daycare Chad. Before I make you.” You threatened, shooting your own glare of pure anger at him.

“What? What did I do?”

“Your comments are unwarranted. If you’re going to casually disrespect Moon and throw around jokes about shocking him, you can leave. You don’t get second chances from me.” You explained further.

“But I have to stay! It’s required! You’ve been attacked before! It’s just a damn robot _______!” He argued again.

“I don’t give a damn if both of my arms went missing this very moment by his hand. Get the hell out of my workspace NOW.” You yelled with such guttural force he even felt it in his chest.

He didn’t notice when you got a wrench in your hand, but by the time he did, he almost lost his head. You threw it at him violently enough to scare the hell out of him and send him running, leaving you alone in the daycare with Moon. A deep sigh finally left you now that you were at peace, and you turned your attention back to Moon.

“I am so sorry about him. He will not be present ever again.” You said in a much calmer tone. “Can I still work on you? I need to make sure, even though you’ve very clearly avoided me for two months… ahah.”

Little clicks and whirrs were all you heard for a moment as the intensity of the red glow in his eyes dimmed. Eventually, he did respond to you, which was a surprise since you’d rarely heard from him at all.

“Fine. You’re the last technician that gets a chance. One wrong move, and you’re dead.” Moon finally agreed, working off of how genuine you sounded and hoping that you were truly not going to hurt him.

“Oh thank you. God that’s a relief.” You breathed out, leaning back against his propped up legs for a moment. “In that case, I’m gonna open up your chest plate and get started, m’kay? You let me know if anything feels wrong.”

He’d never been asked that before. No one has ever asked him to give warning when things felt off, let alone warned him of what they were going to be doing next. He watched in a stupor as you flicked on your dim headlamp and carefully popped open his chest plate, handling him as if he were made of porcelain. You did that consistently too. Every time you touched something new, you warned him beforehand. You were probably the only one who knew how well those touch sensors of his worked and how deep they ran, so he watched cautiously as you went about your work.

“Hey, There’s a couple frayed wires in here. One of them is related to your sense of touch, so there’s a chance something weird might happen. Let me know if anything cuts off while I disconnect them to strip them and get them back together.” You said.

“Why do you keep telling me everything you’re doing?” Moon finally asked.

“Why? Why not is a better question. I don’t want you to be afraid of maintenance anymore. You deserve to know what’s happening to your body without getting shocked for it.” You replied softly.

“... You’re the first one to ever consider that for- OW!”

Moon jumped a little while you fiddled with the wires. Instantly you held the copper ends together with your fingers and began to fret, hoping he wouldn’t throw you off of him while you held it steady.

“I’m sorry! These were the ones I was talking about. They’re frayed so badly… But I do have a work around so it won’t hurt again. Can I… continue?” You asked again.

“... Yes.”

Relieved, you nodded and kept the wires pinched between your fingers. They were hot. Hotter than you had hoped thanks to the mass amounts of current running through them, but if you let go it would cause another shock of pain. For some reason when they disconnected they did that, so you held firm to them and carefully stripped away the old casing on either end. It was harder to do with the searing pain in your left hand, but you got it done and twisted the fresh ends together before covering it with heat shrink tubing. The wires were hot enough on their own to shrink it perfectly, leaving nothing exposed.

You nodded when you were done and continued the rest of your work, mostly doing assessments. There was some rust you cleaned up, a bit of tuning up to the fans, nothing too serious at all. The only real issue was the motherboard which had some failing connections and a processor that was far too out of date. That would have to be taken care of down in the actual parts and services area where you could better complete your job. For now though, you considered the checkup done and closed his chest cavity, grabbing a can of WD-40 and giving all his joints a little spray to keep movement smooth.

“Alright, I’m done!” You announced proudly. “You still need a diagnostics check with our head programmer, but this should be enough for today. I can come with you for the check, if that would make you feel better. I’ll give them hell too if they try anything stupid.”

Surprised that you were done and he experienced little to no pain compared to before, he stared at you blankly before nodding. “We would… Like that.”

“Perfect! We’re taking steps in the right direction then~” You said cheerily, flashing him a big thumbs up.

He noticed the burn now. Your thumb was blistered and red with a pointer finger to match, clearly singed from how long you held the wires in place. He surprisingly took your hand and sat up a little, inspecting the injury you inflicted upon yourself for his sake.

“You’re hurt…”

“Ah it’s nothing. I just forgot my gloves.” You brushed off.

“You burned yourself on that wire, didn’t you? And your arms… were my fault.” He said again, looking over the clear scarring that wrapped around either of your forearms. “I thought…”

“You thought I would hurt you, and you had every right to protect yourself. For your benefit, I did chase you with a wrench on more than one occasion. I am a bit of a menace myself.” You chuckled. “I just needed a different tactic. I’m glad that being honest was the one that worked.”

“... Maybe you’re not so bad.” He mumbled.

“I could say the same about you~”

He groaned and let go of your hand, his fans kicking into high gear. There was some clicking and the sound of strained metal, which made you curious. It was near his head, and that’s when you realized it.

“Who… Who the hell installed your face plate? You’re not emoting correctly. God- Do I have to do everything in this damn place?” You sighed. “Tilt your head up a little please?”

He was confused, but did so. All along the seam where sunbeams would normally poke out, you could see the misaligned plates. With a fair warning, you gave the back a sturdy knock and wiggled them back into place, which revealed a couple of disconnected wires just hanging about at the back of his head. You connected them, and the magic really started to kick in. When you leaned back, the expression he really tried to make earlier came forth, showing how flustered he really was by everything. His face was no longer stuck on just angry expressions, and thanks to those wires, a blush bloomed on his features while his eyes shifted to a soft blue.

“There we go! All your expressions work perfectly now! I knew something was still off. You’re lookin’ mighty cute now~” You teased.

“Knock it off you foolish mechanic.” Moon groaned again, knocking your back with his leg to force you forward and into his chest where he hugged you. “Don’t look at my face.”

“I designed your face, silly~. I kinda have to look anyway. You mad that I revealed more than one emotion from you~?” You snorted.

“... No.” He sighed. “Can I… request that you be the only one who works on us? No one else ever does our maintenance with as much care and consideration.”

“Of course! I was actually going to submit a personal request to not let any other workers from parts and services work on you without me present. I won’t hesitate to break anyone's fingers who touch you without my authorization. There won’t be any more shocks in your future.” You nodded, resting your chin on your hands with your elbows pressed into his chest.

The look Moon gave you was so incredibly soft you almost couldn’t believe your own handiwork. Yes you designed it, but the fact that such a sweet expression came from Moon was amazing and adorable. You scoffed and leaned forward, kissing the top of his head affectionately and laughing when he flared up an even brighter blue.

“I think I did a mighty fine job with how expressive you are now. Damn I’m good~” You hummed.

“Yeah. Not so bad at all I guess.” He muttered, forcing you back down into a hug.

You accepted it more openly this time, snickering while you wrapped your arms around his form. It was warm; one of the warmest hugs you’ve ever had. Surprising for someone who spent his time trying to kill you for the past two months. Before the moment could get any nicer though, the door to the daycare swung open again. You knew who that would be.

“Oi! You done in here yet?” Chad called out. “Oh. OH. Should I uh, leave you two alone or…”

“Moon let me go.” You muttered.

Moon did not question you and released his grip on you. The rage flared up inside your eyes once again as you slid off of Moon and whipped around to stare at Chad with your full height.

“Get outta here before I give you a new hole where the sun don’t shine.” You threatened.

“Hey I’m not the one topping an animatronic.” He snorted.

“CHAD YOU BETTER START RUNNING BEFORE YOU END UP SIX FEET UNDER!”

You threw yourself in his general direction once again and sent the man screaming like a little girl out of the daycare. You pursued him regardless, leaving your tools behind and intending to give him a good run for his money with nothing but your bare hands. Moon still sat on the floor, wondering if he should’ve stopped you. His job was to protect, but Chad was someone he wasn’t too interested in protecting. Instead he snickered, watching you dart back and forth after him through the door you left open.

“... That’s kind of attractive.” He huffed, admiring the way you projected your hostility at someone else in the name of protecting him for once.

You definitely weren’t so bad after all.

[cursestothemoon]

A Cruel Favor

Regulus Black x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

Request: Could I get and angsty and sad blurb with Regulus? Nothing specific in mind, Regulus’ entire life is pretty tragic already- just throwing some strained and kind of heartbreaking romance into that mix sorry i like pain this is how i cope

Summary: Your relationship with the youngest Black brother in the form of memories seen in a pensieve by Sirius Black.

Warnings: Death, sadness, crying, the dark mark, ghosts

Word Count: 3265

Author's Note: babe you asked for a blurb and i just did not listen i am so sorry, if you'd still like a blurb let me know and i'll whip up a little short piece but regardless i hope you enjoy this 😌

“You didn’t know him! You didn’t want to know him!” Your voice bellowed, trembling with the burning anger you held in your heart for the eldest Black brother.

It was true, back when the war was just ‘politics’ and the ‘Dark Lord’ a name whispered behind closed doors, Sirius Black had already made up his mind about his family- Regulus included.

“He was my brother.” Sirius spoke the statement as if just the mere fact of relation was supposed to trump that he hadn't even spoken to his brother in the months prior to his death.

You let out a bitter laugh, “Don’t lie for the sake of saving face, you never saw him as a brother; not then and certainly not now.”

Sirius seemed taken aback by your accusation, his words getting lost on his tongue for a moment before he quickly regained his fiery passion for argument.

“He betrayed me.”

“You were the one who betrayed him!” Your accusatory finger pointed at Sirius.

The eldest Black brother’s features went stoney, “The moment he decided to get that mark, was the moment he lost his name as my brother.”

Everything in the mangey old house seemed to still, a silence falling so powerful you could hear a pin drop. Your slow footsteps were exaggerated in the quiet, each creak ringing in both yours and Sirius’ ears. With a tired hand, you pushed a small pouch onto the surface of the dining room table, the vials inside clinking together softly.

“They’re numbered.” You breathed out. “There is so much you don’t know, Sirius.”

You walked through the door and onto the street hastily, not wasting any time to apparate back home.

Sirius sat down in the nearest chair with a huff, his knees spread as his shoulders slid down the back of the chair. He hadn’t remembered just how far up his brother’s ass you were.

Roughly, he rubbed his face with his palms before lazily reaching for the dark velvet pouch on the table. The emerald green reminded him not only of his brother, but of his entire family, the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Sirius couldn’t help the groan that left his mouth at the memories of his family that seemed to plague his mind.

Fittingly, Sirius opened the pouch to reveal just that. The silvery, viscous tendrils that floated through each vial were immediately recognized by the pureblood. You had given him your memories...and a letter.

You deserve to know him.

Y/N L/N

Sirius’ curiosity regarding what secrets of his brother’s seemed to be swimming in the vials bubbled over, he was sure 12 Grimmauld Place was harbouring a pensieve somewhere within its walls, he’d just have to get up and find it.

17 October 1974

Barty Crouch Jr. was an insolent child, the type to collect bones and listen to them rattle. He had a nervous tick, his tongue slithering past his lips every so often in a manner that was so serpentine it made your skin prick.

“Come on then, L/N, be a good little girl and do as I say.”

You threw down your quill in frustration, “Bugger off, Crouch. I’ve said no.”

“Don't be like that,” Barty smirked, coming closer to where you were sitting. “It’s only some homework. You were going to do yours anyway, why not get some extra practice in by doing mine too?”

“I’d rather have unforgivables practiced on me than do anything you ask.”

His sickly sweet smile wasn’t one you were expecting, his voice low and threatening, “That can be arranged.”

Your blood ran cold as you watched his nimble fingers move toward his wand pocket in his robes. Truthfully, you should’ve known better. Being in the same house as Barty allowed you the luxury of hearing all the gossip surrounding him and his hobbies, dark magic and curses being at the top of that list.

“Barty.”

The cold baritone made the sandy-haired menace stop in his tracks, his face contorting into an expression of mild annoyance and frustration.

“There’s no need for you to be acting like a child. Quite humiliating asking someone else to do your work, isn’t it, Crouch? Are you too thick to get it done yourself?”

Barty turned to look at his friend, words jumbling as he tried to figure out how to get himself out of the hole he had dug.

“Reg-” The stone-like stare had Barty cowering and mouth snapping shut, the boy seemingly trying to fold in on himself.

With a simple nod of his head, Regulus directed the him to make himself useful elsewhere, but you were far too taken by the handsome boy in front of you to notice the stomping footsteps of Barty’s as he left. Of course you had known of Regulus Black, seen him from afar and even once had Transfiguration with him, but seeing him up close was an experience in and of itself. His skin was ghostly pale, hair dark and wavy as it fell just below his ears, and his cheekbones were high accentuating the slant of his nose. Regulus Black was beautiful, everything about him seemed to be placed just right and sculpted with the utmost care and attention.

He turned to you, your eyes meeting before he gave you an appraising look.

“Regulus.” His hand struck out, a rather rugged introduction.

Slowly, you took his hand in yours and proceeded to shake it. You couldn’t seem to rid yourself of the feeling that your hand was far too dirty, far too boring to be touching his, to even be near his.

“Y/n L/n, thank you- for that.” You were proud of yourself for not allowing your voice to shake.

“I’m sorry he was a bother.”

Regulus seemed to lack the ability of holding a conversation, he nodded- you assumed a goodbye- and got ready to make his way to the dorms.

“Wait,” Your voice came out before you could stop it. “You could stay, I’m almost done anyway. We could...talk.”

The suggestion had the boy's ears turning pink, his words coming out stuttered and jumbled, a stark contrast from the boy who had told off Barty so eloquently.

“If you- alright.”

You thought for a moment before speaking again, “You’re not very good at talking to people are you?”

“Excuse my blatant honesty, but you make me quite nervous.”

It was your turn to have your ears turn a soft hue of red, “I could say the same about you.”

5 April 1975

“Haven’t you got your own side of the blanket? Must you be so close to me?” You giggled, trying to roll away from Regulus while still avoiding the grass.

Regulus smiled, his eyes closing and nose scrunching in thought before he spoke, “I prefer to be close to you; making sure you won’t run out on me.”

Both of you began giggling, his head falling to nudge your shoulder. Ultimately, Regulus shuffled away from your side, allowing just about a foot of space in between your bodies. The wind rustled your hair as you turned your neck to look at the youngest Black as he sat up, his legs stretched and crossed at the ankles, arms propping himself up as his palms pressed flat against the floor.

It was no secret that Regulus was beautiful. His dark hair- now gently flowing in the cool breeze- stood out against his pale skin, freckles were dusted delicately over his aristocratic nose and sharp cheekbones. You could tell he’d never worked a day in his life with how handsome and soft his hands were. His fingers were long and slender, never dry or rough, and his nails perfectly trimmed and always clean.

Regulus Black was absolutely perfect and you were regretting ever complaining about his proximity.

You were quick to right your wrong, bashfully you raised yourself onto all fours and crawled over to your boyfriend. Regulus tried to hold in his smirk, avoiding turning to look at you directly but you could tell his resolve was breaking.

“Regulus…” You spoke his name with an innocent lilt, sitting back on your shins once you were close enough to have your knees touching his thigh.

He hummed, not giving you the satisfaction of having his full attention.

A huff of frustration fell past your lips at his stubbornness as you threw your leg over his thighs, straddling his legs just above his knees. His composure was thinning, a wide smile threatening to spread across his thin lips.

“You’re far too close,” he teased, his hand coming up as if trying to stop you from getting any closer. “I believe you are on my side of the blanket, L/n.”

“Don’t be so fickle, Black.”

Regulus’ pale blue eyes found yours, his delicate hand coming up to run across the delicate collar of your dress.

“It’s in my nature isn’t it?” His eyes held a certain sadness that you could not place, one you wouldn’t see again until a few years later.

Your lips parted to respond to him, only to be interrupted by a Hogwarts ghost floating nearby. It was a ghost neither you nor Regulus were familiar with and as she passed she mumbled something- rather spitefully- about young love. The event had your train of thought derailed, a quiet giggle erupting from your throat as the transparent, deceased woman floated on.

Regulus seemed to find the woman just as amusing as you did, his eyes crinkling with laughter as you two now looked at each other in fits of hysterics.

“Oh her poor soul!” You exclaimed, eyes looking off in the direction she had gone. “If you were a ghost, Reg, where would you haunt with your undead presence.”

His expression contorted into one of reminiscence, “Uncle Alphard’s cherry orchard just a few kilometers from Monts de Venasque. When we were little, Sirius and I would play in the trees. I could sit in those cherry trees for hours, everything just seemed to disappear. Alphard’s been burned off the tapestry since, but he’s left the property in my possession along with the small house on the land. I think if I were to choose one place to spend eternity, it would be there.”

You smiled softly at his answer.

“And you?” He asked, bringing you out of your lovesick haze.

“Me?” You chuckled. “I’d suppose my eternity would be well spent as long as I was somewhere with you.”

28 June 1976

It seemed the entirety of 12 Grimmauld Place shook with how hard Sirius had slammed the front door.

He was gone.

Completely and entirely gone.

And Regulus was completely and entirely alone now.

Regulus swiftly made his way up the stairs and to his room, just barely avoiding a collision with the poor house elf.

“Y/n’s room.” The words were spoken clearly and concisely as the floo powder fell from his shaky hands.

The time of night- 2:27 am- was of little importance to Regulus, he needed to see you.

You woke up with a jolt, the sound of someone stumbling into your room and panicked mumbling doing nothing to ease your nerves though the mop of dark curls had your heart calming down.

“Reg?”

He turned to look at you with heartbroken eyes, watery and bloodshot.

“He’s gone.” He choked out.

You kicked the blankets off yourself and stood up from your bed, bare feet hitting the cold floor.

Keeping a calm tone you slowly got closer to him, “Who’s gone, love?”

His pain was so evident, rolling off him in waves, “Sirius- he’s not coming back.”

“Oh,” You sighed, treading lightly. “I’m sur-”

“No!” He cried, “Burned off the tapestry, probably with the Potters- he’s gone an-and he left me with them.”

Regulus’ anguish, tear stained cheeks, had your own eyes welling with unshed tears. It was clear words would do nothing to calm him, instead you opted for pushing yourself into him and taking his crying form into your arms. His body seemed to give out as you held him, his tears soaking your shirt as he wailed into your neck.

Neither of you could tell how long you stood in the middle of your room seemingly holding him together, but his cries subsided into gentle whimpers and the occasional sniffle as his nose nudged the side of your neck.

His voice came out rough and strained, just barely above a whisper, “Please don’t- don’t leave me like Si- like he did.”

You could feel your heart shatter, “Wouldn’t dream of it, darling.”

“I don’t know how I would’ve survived in this mess if I had never known you.”

Your breath came out ragged as you spoke the truest words you've ever dared to speak, “My heart beats for you, Regulus.”

30 December 1979

His forearm itched.

It seemed to always have an odd itch ever since he was sixteen.

Regulus watched your form get closer, bundled in a thick overcoat and a dark blue scarf- Christmas present from himself- wrapped neatly around your neck. You were the picture of beauty, like a living doll with your soft smile and adoring eyes.

“My love.” You greeted him, leaning in to place a soft kiss against his cold cheek.

His eyes seemed distant, your only greeting a tight lipped smile.

Your eyebrows knit together, “Everything alright?”

Regulus nodded, his eyes swimming with a sadness so familiar, “Just taking you in.”

He pulled off his leather gloves, stuffing them deep in his coat pocket before reaching his hand out to hold your jaw, his thumb running across your skin. The action was comforting and you couldn’t help but close your eyes to savour the feeling of his thumb caressing your cheekbone.

You let out a small gasp when you felt him take your lips in a slow kiss. It was passionate, loving, yet there was a certain finality to it that had a shiver run up your spine in the most unpleasant way.

“I have the cruelest favor to ask of you, and I can only hope you’ll forgive me once I do.”

Your stomach dropped, “What do you mean, Regulus? What- what favor?”

“Please, try to understand-”

“What favor?”

“I couldn’t-”

“Tell me what the favor is, Regulus.”

Your voice had an edge to it that made him compose himself almost instantly.

He took a breath before speaking, his eyes looking off somewhere behind you as he spoke, “He’s getting stronger.”

You didn’t need to ask who this ‘he’ was, the tone made it very clear.

“He has these… horcruxes. Incredibly dark magic, I don't know how many but I know of one. It’s hidden and I’ve found out the location, I can destroy it I know I can but-”

His tone was hushed and your heart rate had started to pick up speed.

“But you don’t know if you’ll live to tell the tale?” You asked with a humorless laugh.

The look in Regulus’ eyes had told you, you were right.

“I can’t let him continue. If this could stop him, weaken him even, it’s worth whatever the consequence to myself may be.” He argued.

You pushed yourself further from him, “I can’t- I won’t lose you. No, there’s no way.”

His expression shifted into one of sorrow and pleading, “I have to.”

And you knew there was no changing his mind.

You bit the side of your lip anxiously, looking at the ground before asking, “And this favor?”

The heartbreak was almost palpable, his voice going raw.

“I cannot be fully prepared to do anything that is necessary to destroy this horcrux if-”

He cut himself off with an intake of breath.

“If I know you’ll be waiting for my return, if I know what I have to leave behind I may be tempted to not go through with my plan.”

You couldn’t help but feel and look horrified, “What are you asking of me, Regulus?”

He seemed to flinch at the tone of your voice, a tone you’d never used before and one he couldn’t name.

“I need you to obliviate yourself from my memory.”

It felt as though your chest had collapsed in on itself, “I-I couldn-”

“You have to!” Regulus cried, his arms gripping the sides of your face as you couldn’t help but let a choked sob escape from your lips. “It’s the only way I’ll be able to go through with it, I can't know that there’s a possibility of leaving you.”

“Please, Regulus, you can’t ask this of me.” You choked out, searching his eyes for some sort of humor, something that told you it was all a cruel joke.

He pressed his lips against your forehead, both of your eyes closing as you two took in short, ragged breaths.

Everything seemed darker. The flowers in the Black garden were cold and dead, the snow wasn’t snow at all, instead dangerous sheets of ice. It was then you realized the war, the death eaters, everything had become so real.

“There is a letter on your bed at home, I’ve settled everything for you. I’m going to stand against the pillar, my back to you, and you are going to do it from behind the hedges so we won’t see each other after. You need to leave once it’s done alright?”

You nodded solemnly, knowing there was no use in fighting it. The cause was bigger than you, bigger than Regulus. Everyone made sacrifices, this just had to be yours.

“My heart beats for you, Y/n, whether I know it or not.”

“And mine for you, Regulus.” You smiled sadly, pulling his wrist up to your face and pulling back his sleeve to reveal his dark mark, pressing a kiss to the skin you spoke, “You aren’t them, you never were and you never will be.”

Regulus smiled but said nothing as he lowered his arms and put his gloves back on. With slow steps he walked to the pillar and looked back at you one last time.

“I’m just taking you in.” He whispered, before slowly turning.

You took your wand from your coat as you took even slower steps to stand just far enough for him not to notice you after it had been done. Regulus felt his resolve crumble with each crunch of your boots against the frozen ground, his eyes screwed shut- tears rolling down his face freely- as he prepared for what was coming.

With a shaky hand you raised your wand.

“Obliviate.”

Present

Sirius seemed to be thrown back from the pensieve, as if the memory had rejected him from viewing any longer, still sensitive. He felt an odd tickling sensation run down his cheek, his hand raising to brush away a stray tear as he fell into a nearby chair.

He never knew…

***

You pushed open the backdoor of your small home, the warm scent of cherry trees welcoming you. The sun was just barely starting to set as you looked off into the horizon of the vast field of trees, if you looked long enough you could make out the handsome silhouette of a boy you once knew sitting up in a cherry tree.

Only a few short months later, the lone figure would be joined by another… a brother.

tags:

@amourtentiaa

@vsawyer1989​

@lifeofkaze

@siriusement

@erinruby003

@maybesandohnos

@onlyfreds

@tayyx

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

Could I have 13 and 70 from the smut list with King Arthur?

A/N: Yes, yes, you can. :D Also took some inspiration from the live-action Cinderella movie. Thank you for reading, reblogging, commenting, and liking. 

Pairing: King Arthur x F! Reader 

Warnings: 18 + only for smut, p in v 

Masterlist 

Prompts: “Your parents would be royally disappointed if they saw what you have on right now. Even more disappointed at what I’m thinking about doing to you.”& “I know all of your weaknesses.”

You fidgeted in your pretty gown for the eighth time in the last ten minutes, and your mother was less than pleased. “Stop moving, ungrateful child, this is your chance to impress the King! A chance for us to rise among the nobles!” she hisses at you, pulling your shoulders back. A ball in King Arthur’s court, wearing a corset that did little to help in the way of breathing, and your overbearing mother is breathing down your neck. Your sister beside you covered her giggles with a cough as you rolled your eyes. 

“Oh, Lady Charlotte!” Mother smiles and thankfully leaves you for a moment alone. You take a deep breath and lower your shoulders, eyes scanning the room for exits. 

“She will catch you, you know,” your sister giggles again, “and drag you right back.” 

“I feel more like a prized bird on display than a woman,” you scoff, “does she honestly believe that the King is going to look at me in this ridiculous get-up and fall madly in love? We are peasants; how did we even get invited to this?  Besides, I haven’t even seen this King before; what if he’s some hideous brute? Maybe that’s why they haven’t commissioned any portraits of him.” 

“I’ve heard he’s quite handsome and young.” 

“The average life span of a person is only fifty or so years, so how young can he be, twelve?” you groan at seeing the large plume of your mother’s hat coming back your way. “I need to get out of here before mother sells me to the highest coin.” 

“Quickly then,” she shoos, “I know why you don’t want to meet the King; he’ll never compare with your handsome stranger.” She grins mischievously at you, and you hold your breath waiting for the fallout. 

“How did you know about that?” 

“Sister, darling, you are not very good at hiding your feelings.” You glare at her, and she giggles, “I also saw the two of you by the creek when I was out fetching berries last week. He’s quite handsome.” 

“There you are!” Mother returns and puts her hands on your shoulders, pretending to show affection. “The King is coming,” she whispers with a grin and moves to stand between the two of you. You look over at your sister and give her your best pleading face, mouthing the words, ‘please don’t tell’ she smiles and nods with a wordless ‘promise.’ 

The trumpets sound loud, and a man stands forward to announce the King. People sitting rise to their feet, girls around you giggle like children, several pushing up their chests, biting their lips, or pinching their cheeks for some extra color. You stand there with a lump in your throat, trying to swallow around it. 

When the King makes his entrance, the crown glistening off the top of his head, your mouth slowly falls open on a gasp. “Art?” you whisper, your mother shushing you; you can feel your sister’s eyes burn into the side of your face. Everyone around you bows and curtsies low in honor, but your body has frozen, your limbs no longer working. 

“Curtsy,” your mother grabs your hand and pulls you down with a hiss, and you gasp, nearly falling to the floor with force. The noise draws his attention, and when the crowd rises, his eyes are staring intensely into yours. Those eyes you love, Art the apprentice, is the King of England. “He’s staring at you,” you can hear the glee in your mother’s voice, but all you feel is dread. 

The music begins to play, and several Lord’s come up to him showing their offspring off like a cow at the market. And for a moment, his eyes leave yours, and you bolt. “Where are you going?” your mother moves to grab you, but your sister intervenes; God bless her. You walk as quickly as your skirts will allow towards the door to the gardens, and when you are on the threshold, an arm comes out to stop you. 

“Wait, milady,” you freeze, half wanting to rip your arm from his grasp and slap him across the face for his misdirection, the other half wanting to turn and get lost in the deep blue of his eyes. “My love,” he whispers only for you to hear, “let me explain.” The second half wins, and you turn slowly, noticing the entire ballroom is watching the scene with rapt interest. His eyes, as blue as the sky reflecting off the sea, have you unraveling before him. “Dance with me?” he straightens to his full height, letting go of your arm and holding out a hand, “please.” 

Your hand trembles as you bring it up and place it in his. The warmth that is usually so comforting seems to set your skin ablaze as you follow him to the middle of the ballroom. The music is slow, and you follow the steps with him in a carefully orchestrated dance. “Talk,” you whisper, “why did you lie to me?” 

“I didn’t lie,” he grins, “not exactly; I am still learning my trade, just like an apprentice.” 

You know all the eyes are on you, and you smile when he gives you a turn, stepping hard on his foot when you come around. He grunts but doesn’t stop the dance, continuing each step. “That wasn’t very nice,” he smiles and says under his breath. “Did you forget love? I know all your weaknesses.” His words light the fire in your belly, and you see the mischief in his eyes as the dance comes to a close. 

“Would you join me for a stroll in the gardens, Milady?” he asks loud enough for everyone to hear. 

“Your Majesty?” Sir Bedivere strides over quickly, “there are many ladies who wish to dance with you, my King; you wouldn’t want to insult them.” 

“I need to make sure to give each of the ladies my adequate attention. Isn’t that what you told me, Sir Bedivere?” he grins as the other man nods with a thin line of his lips. “I won’t be alone, don’t worry, Sir Tristan will be my guard.” He looks over at the Knight, who has several ladies of his own to tend to, who nods with great reluctance. “See?” he claps the older man on the shoulder and offers you his elbow. “Milady?” 

You don’t have much choice, taking his elbow and following him over the threshold and into the gardens. Sir Tristan follows several steps behind, and you walk into the sprawling greenery. When you are about halfway in, he turns with a whistle, “Oi, Wet Stick, bugger off for a bit; we need to have a chat.” 

“You know this bird, boss?” he asks with a raise of his brow. 

“Yeah, she’s the one I asked you to bring the invitation to,” you look up at him, alarmed. 

“You invited us? Well, aren’t you just full of surprises,” you huff and walk further into the orchard part of the gardens, far from the prying eyes of the partygoers. 

“Shit,” he follows quickly behind, and you hear Wet Stick snigger and walk off in the other direction. “Wait, darling, please.” 

You whirl around with a finger pushing into his chest, “What game are you trying to play? Find some pretty peasant girl, make her fall in love with you, and then embarrass her in front of all the Nobility in England. Was that your game?” You walk away from him and pace back and forth, “I can’t believe I was so naive to think you cared.” 

“I do!” he reaches for you and holds you by the shoulders to face him, “I do care, love. I didn’t want you to love me because I was a King, I wanted you to love me! Arthur, the man, not the crown. I never lied to you,” you glare at him with a hand gesturing to the crown on top of his head, “okay I neglected one small detail.” 

“One,” you huff out a laugh pushing away his hands, “one small detail?! Arthur, you’re the fucking King of England! I’m only a poor seamstress, with an insufferable widowed mother, who only dreams of becoming a part of the upper class!” You feel the tears swell in your eyes as the truth all comes crashing down on your shoulders; the man you’ve been in love with for months is unreachable; theres’ no way he can marry you. 

“Listen to me,” he reaches for you again and takes three enormous strides pushing your back up against one of the apple trees. “Look at me.” 

Your mind won’t slow down, “what was your goal with having us come tonight? So you could shame me? Show off to the nobility that you are one with the people? Do you fuck every peasant girl you meet?” 

“Listen to me!” he shakes your shoulders, and your eyes widen, looking up to see him. “Listen to me,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to your own, “there was no game. I saw you in the market ten months ago when I was in the city.” 

“Ten months ago? I’ve only known you for six….”

“I didn’t know how to approach you; I couldn’t just go up to you and say hello I’m the King of bloody England, fancy a pint?” You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips, his curving up at the edges. “So I dressed in my old clothes, snuck out of the palace, and started slowly talking to you. Then we went for a walk, and I couldn’t stay away. You’ve bewitched me, love. My love for you is more powerful than the magic of the Mage.” 

“Honest?” you ask quietly with trepidation, “do you mean that Art?” He smiles at the nickname he gave you, leaning down to kiss your lips softly. 

“Promise, love. It’s only ever and will only ever be you.” He runs his hand against your cheek, and you lean into his touch, letting yourself breathe for the first time all evening. 

“I love you too, Arthur; I’m in love with you.” His eyes soften as he gazes down at you. 

“We have to go back soon,” he whispers, kissing you softly, “but do you think we got time for?” He wiggles his eyebrows, and you smack his arm with a laugh. 

“Is that all you think about?” 

He grins and takes a step back, “turn around,” he whispers with a wink. You turn around slowly, gasping when your hands are pressed further into the tree trunk. “Quiet love, don’t want anyone to hear us do we?” 

He moves quickly, unlacing the top of your corset and peeling the back open, letting it fall to the ground, your breasts sagging with the relief of being free. He palms your breasts, placing rough, scratchy kisses over your exposed shoulders. His hands come around to his waist, and he pushes up several layers of your skirts, reaching for your pulsing heat. He turns you around, and you reach your hands quickly down to palm him through his leather breeches. 

Your hands falter on the fabric, and you look down with wide eyes, “I-I made these,” your voice shakes, “they were commissioned a few weeks ago.” You look up to meet his warm eyes as he nods. 

“I wanted to support you, and you are the best seamstress in the city. Only the best for the King,” he murmurs, almost shy.

“Well then, my King,” his eyes darken, “I will need to show my appreciation.” You tug open the breeches, and he slips them down his thighs, lifting your skirts the rest of the way. 

He fumbles with the layers, and you giggle at the annoyed look on his face. “I swear, when we marry, I demand you just walk around naked at all times. These skirts are ridiculous.” 

You don’t have time to respond, the words caught in your throat, as he lifts you and slides inside with ease. “Fuck, always so wet for me, love,” his hips snap inside you, and his mouth tangles with yours, swallowing your moans. 

“Arthur,” you moan, feeling him stretch you on his majestic royal cock. This is not the first time you’ve fucked, having given Art the apprentice your virginity in the woods several months ago, but this was the first time you’ve fucked Arthur, the king, and he didn’t disappoint. 

“That’s it, love, let me hear you, but only me, don’t want any of them damn nobles to know I already made my choice. That I already fell in love months ago with a beautiful seamstress in the market.” He grunts, and your cunt flutters around his cock with every word. The love between you flowing over with each thrust of his hips. 

“I- ah, I love you, Arthur,” you whimper against his neck, slick with sweat. The air is thick tonight, the incoming storm leaving the air thick and dripping. 

He pulls back to look at you, punctuating each word with a snap of his hips, “I love you, you’re my Queen, always have been.”

You buck your hips against him, cumming with a silent cry, head thrown back in ecstasy. He thrusts three more times, and then you feel him cumming deep inside you, thick and warm it dribbles down the inside of your thighs. He’d never done that before, always pulling out at the last moment. You open your eyes and look at him; his pupils are wide, almost black as he stares at you.

“Now they can’t say anything,” he mumbles, and you furrow your brow. “You may be carrying a little Prince or Princess now; I have to marry you.” 

You grin at what he’s done, his cock still buried inside you. “You’re naughty,” you giggle. 

“I’m naughty?” He asks with a smirk, “your parents would be royally disappointed if they saw what you have on right now. Even more so at what I’m thinking about doing to you.” 

“And what’s that?” You shift your hips, and his eyes widen as you tighten around his cock. 

His eyes soften, and he cups your cheek gently, bringing your lips softly to his own. The rub of his beard is rough on your cheek as he moves to your ear, “I’m going to end this party early and show you. I already made my choice a long time ago. But, are you ready?” He pulls back, looking deep into your eyes, “Can you stand by my side and love Arthur the King, as much as you love Art, the apprentice?” 

Your heart catches in your throat, blood roaring in your ears at his words; you lean into his hand warmly and on your cheek and close your eyes. Opening them slowly and looking into the sea of blue, “I love you, all sides of you, that doesn’t change because of a shiny crown and a title.” 

He slowly pulls out, and you whimper as he lowers you back to the ground, pulling down your skirts and fixing your corset. You both work in silence to be presentable again, his eyes bright as he smiles at you, “Then, let’s go,” he murmurs, reaching for your hand, “I think it’s time to announce our engagement.” He snickers as you walk along beside him back towards the party. 

“What are you laughing at?” you chuckle, watching his eyes filled with mirth. 

“Your mother is going to faint,” he laughs beside you. 

You groan and roll your eyes with a laugh, “Good, maybe she will be quiet for a few moments.” 

He booms out a laugh and pulls you close, kissing the top of your head, “oh my love, our life will never be boring.” 

Taglist: @lunarthoughts @jedi-mando @idreamofboobear @aerolanya @rebelliouscat @veracruz-djarin @marvelprincess1994 @thirstworldproblemss @spacelatinoss  @martellthemandalor @kesskirata @waatermelon-sugaar @jitterbugs927 @helga1031  @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal @oldstuffnewstuff @yespolkadotkitty @heythere-mel @justanotherblonde23 @artsymaddie @anetteaneta @aellynera @lucifer- @houseofthirst @phoenixhalliwell @chicken-ona-stick @agirllovespancakes @ghostwiththemostbitch @the-purity-pen @paintballkid711 @wasicskosgirl @fantasticcopeaglepasta @sarahjkl82-blog @boxdyeblonde @rosiefridayrogersunday @yeah-seems-legit  @mimimi-stuff  @ladyblogger-margie @memyselfandellasworld @peterhollandkait @itspdameronthings @emmy626 @luv-nd-serenity @randomness501  @littlebopper96 @alexmarie29 @hell-is-my-second-home666 @thisshipwillsail316 @madslorian @no-droids-on-sunday @glixxr @sfr99 @pedro-pastel @we-can-be-himbos  @sleep-tight1 @sarhabee @its--fandom--darling @im-an-adult-ish @princess76179 @demoncrypt1066 @the-dendrophile-bookworm @amneris21 @deliciouslydisturbed365 @princessxkenobi @Kirstg42 @flaireandsynch @rayslittlekitten 

[getlostsquidward]

The gaps in your hearts (Part 2)

Lou Miller x fem!reader

A/N: You asked for part 2, and I shall deliver. I hope it's worth your wait!!

Summary: After your departure, an unexpected circumstance had you arriving back at the loft, back at Lou. Will the gaps in your hearts only become wider or will they be finally filled?

Part one

“Oh, bugger. Baby? I’m home.”

“Nice place.”

“Try heating it.”

“There’s a room for you upstairs. Your stuff’s upstairs too.”

Lou called your name a couple of times but she got no answer. Maybe you went out and got something from the store. She furrowed her eyebrows at the notion that you didn’t let her know you’ll go out like you usually does.

She can’t wait for you to meet Debbie.

The sun has set down and you weren’t at home yet. Lou was growing worried each minute that passes. She’d left you text messages, she tried to call you several times, but all of it went to voicemail. Where did you go?

Debbie had returned from her closure meeting with Claude. She had bought takeout for dinner but Lou wasn’t in any mood to eat. She was antsy but keeping it down so her friend won’t notice. Maybe you were called in at work? Maybe you went out with a friend and forgot to send her a text. The blonde knows you can perfectly take care of yourself but she can’t help but be worried.

“Where’s your girl?” Debbie asked, reminded of Lou calling someone ‘baby’ when they arrived earlier.

Lou just shrugged her shoulders, not really knowing what to answer.

“Maybe she hit her head and woke up from the truth,” the brunette joked.

Lou glared at her friend. “Not funny.”

“Tell me about her.”

The blonde started to tell her friend everything. From how you met, the ups and downs of your relationship, and how loving and wonderful you are. You were patient and understanding; you were perfect in every way and she hated how she’d managed to hurt the one person that did nothing but love her.

The day you moved out of the loft was the most devastating day of her life. It was way much worse than when Debbie left before.

She knew that you were checking in on her through Matt, and she was wracked with guilt. Even after what she’d done, you still care for her. Lou unconsciously checks her phone to see if you left a message but to no avail. You really honoured your word that you’d give her time, and she was thankful for that.

In your two-month break, she really had thought about it all. She used the time to sort out her feelings. Hell, she even opened up to some of her other friends for help, something she rarely does even with those who know her. Unearthing her feelings.

Lou had feelings for Debbie. She didn’t know if it was romantic or if it was just a deep affection. She didn’t really think much of it. Debbie was one of the few of the persons she knows she could trust with her life and in the conworld, such a person was like a rare gem. It was hard to find, and if you do, you’ve got to treasure it. And so she did.

“Maybe you’d mistaken the concept of love and affection. You told me you really didn’t think anything about it and that explains it. The moment you felt that that person was dear to you, you immediately equated it to romantic love.”

The words mentioned had hit Lou, hard. Once she realized that, she promptly had to find you. She called you, but you didn’t answer. She didn’t know where you were staying so she asked your friends, and that’s how Lou found you drowning in liquor in some alley.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Debbie berated, feeling rather guilty about how she was probably the reason you left for the second time around.

“I do. No need to remind me.”

“I’m gonna tell you to go find her, but I also need you to focus on the job. Can you do both?”

“Of course,” Lou sighed. She won’t know what she would do if she were to lose you for real this time.

-

You were feeling rueful for leaving Lou without a word. You knew she’d be worried sick, but it was the best for the two of you. Once again, you fell into your routine. It was incredibly helpful that an event was coming and you can spend all of your time at work. Though this time, the constant drinking was out of your to-do list.

Your mind often wandered to Lou. She said something about a job, maybe that’s what they’re doing right now. Has she been thinking of you too?

The messages and missed calls Lou had sent you were not in your knowledge as you’d let your best friend hide your phone, and bought a new one for you. At first, you thought that it would be ridiculous and childlike of you but maybe she had a point. The worst-case scenario would be Lou filing for a missing person’s case, but you knew she wouldn’t dare cross paths with the police.

-

“Oh my god, you guys. This party is nuts. I’m not kidding! If your dress is ugly, you can’t wear it, no shit! They will bower your wardrobe!” Tammy rambled and rushed to get into the loft where she got everyone’s attention.

“I love that!” Lou quipped.

“Oh I gotta pee,” Tammy continued to ramble. “Every table cost a quarter-million dollars that if they allow you to buy one! I mean not just any $250,000 check will be approved, I mean they literally have to tell you whether or not they’ll take your money, it’s crazy!”

Everyone was standing outside the bathroom, still listening to Tammy rant about the Met.

“And then you can’t bring anyone, that you clearly go by yourself. They spend a hundred grand on food and apparently no one eats, it’s really crazy,” the blonde finished as she went out, kind of out of breath from the continuous rambling.

“Did you get the seating chart?” asked Debbie.

“The what?”

“The seating chart.” Tammy handed the special glasses she was wearing to Debbie.

“If I haven’t said it, it’s really crazy. This one person that I’m working with maybe is the only saving grace of that place. Thank goodness for Y/N,” the blonde sighed, capturing the attention of Lou.

She shared looks with Debbie, hoping that it was you their friend was talking about.

After discussing the seating chart, they approached Tammy and straightforwardly asked about you, if you were the same person she’d mentioned. Apparently, you quit your last job and had started few weeks prior to Tammy. Lou asked if you’re doing well, and almost cried when she nodded. When Tammy asked why they are curious, Debbie answered. “Lou’s girl. Left because of this dumbass right here.”

The blonde had a surprised expression on her face, a bit amazed at how small the world is. The person they’ve been looking for was only at their reach this whole time.

“She’s sweet. If you’re planning to get her back, which I know you would, you better not mess up.”

Since that day, Lou was itching to contact you but inhibited herself. She’d finish the job first, then she would have you back. If she was lucky enough to be given a second chance, which she wouldn’t fucking waste, she can finally go to California riding with you on her new bike like you always wanted to do.

Finally, it was the first Monday in May. Lou was still in the van with Nineball, preparing food for her. She remembered you telling her she would look good in a chef’s uniform. She wasn’t actually a chef right now, but she still owes you a hundred bucks.

What if you weren’t gone? Maybe you would be in on the heist too, and you would be the most beautiful woman in her eyes, everyone else in the Met is damned. She knew you would have loved and drooled over the green jumpsuit she was wearing.

The heist was successful, and the ladies were lounging at the loft. Their dillydally was halted when an unexpected guest has stormed the loft. Daphne Kluger.

“You guys are fucked,” the actress huffed. “Wow, nice place.”

“Excuse me, you are trespassing-”

“No, we asked her to come,” Lou cut Tammy’s accusation.

Debbie started to explain how Daphne might have gotten a sense of what they were doing, so they roped the brunette in. Daphne then asserted how she was the one who was saving everyone from insurance fraud. Another revelation had caused panic to those who didn’t know, scared that they might be busted and imprisoned.

“We will not be the prime suspect.”

“Then who will be the prime suspect?”

Lou listed several people like the security guys and the busboy. Their attention was focused on Daphne that they didn’t notice another person coming in. You quietly opened the door in purpose, glancing at each of the women inside. You’d heard the last bit of their conversation and captured their attention by announcing your presence.

“The shady guy who put Debbie away,” you casually commented, walking towards everyone.

“Wow,” Daphne chuckled. “The boyfriend.”

Everyone but Debbie and Daphne was shocked, for the third time around. They didn’t really expect guests today. Lou looked like she had seen a ghost but didn’t take her eyes off you.

“Yup. If they were gonna be looking for somebody, just had to make sure it wasn’t one of us.”

You whispered a “Hi, Tam” to your coworker, and took a sit in the middle of her and Daphne. “The precision, right?” the actress turned to you. “The attention to detail, a little grace note that really makes something sing.”

While she was blubbering about how well-thought the job was, she scooted closer to you and put a hand on your thigh. Lou raised an eyebrow at the action, jealousy bubbling in her chest.

“Why are you doing this?” Tammy asked, referring to Daphne. “And Y/N? You were in too? How?”

You let the brunette answer first and when she finished, Debbie had answered for you.

“She was our other mole in the Met, aside from you and Nine.”

“Oh, you were an angel, Y/N. She made sure I was okay after hurling my guts out. Much much better company than my date,” Daphne preached, leaning her head on your shoulder. You rest your head on hers in return.

Lou’s jaw was gritted, it was too much for her and she couldn’t look any longer. She looked at Debbie and gave her a perplexed look, asking for further explanation.

The brunette just shrugged her shoulder, knowing it was up to you to talk to Lou. After all, it was the reason she approached you. At first, she had only talked to you about Lou, but later called to ask if you were willing to join in the job. You’d said yes right away.

That night, you saw Lou sitting near the shore. She was staring straight ahead as you sat next to her.

“Lou?”

“You know, I planned to talk to you after we got the money. But you got to me first,” she whispered.

“You have to thank Debs for that.”

Lou chuckled, “Debs? What, you’re on a nickname basis now? She doesn’t even let me call her that.”

“She told me everything. And, I- I’m sorry, Lou. I shouldn’t have left like that, left you worried though you had a job to focus on-”

Lou cut you off as she pulled you in for a hug. “No, Y/N. I should be the one apologizing.”

Her hand was running up and down your back, the touch soothing all of your troubles. You can finally feel at peace. There was no snarling voice at the back of your head, no heavy feeling. You feel like a sailor in the middle of a calm sea.

“I’ll make it up to you, for real, this time,” Lou pulled back, giving you a smile. You nodded in return.

“Although you may have to explain first what was that earlier,” her smile faded, and glared at you playfully.

You were about to ask what she was referring to when you suddenly remembered. You told her how you may or may not have told Daphne that you were on a rough patch and she volunteered to help make Lou jealous. Both of you shared a laugh as she commented on how effective it was that she had to restrain herself from tearing you apart from the actress.

There was no time to waste, you thought as you pressed your lips against Lou’s. The kiss was slow and passionate, the both of you pouring all your feelings out. Her hand entangled itself on the base of your skull as she deepened the kiss, tongue swiping on your bottom lip asking for entrance. You let her dominate you, a soft moan coaxed out of your mouth.

The only thing you could focus on was the feeling of Lou’s lips; your hammering heart and the waves lapping gently at the shore.

“I love you, baby,” Lou murmured, both of you breathless.

“I know, Lou. I love you too.”

[spideyspeaches]

Sweet child ‘o mine ↬ a.r

sweet smily babie

A/N: Requests are open btw! I love writing Arvin and I don’t have any arvin requests so you can request for arvin btw :) 

Request by @kelieah​ : okay okay. let's get to it hehe. arvin right? oh my god you should write a dad!arvin 🥺🥺🥺 and reader is pregnant but he's like super protective and lowkey a wreck bc he doesn't know what he's doing? and reader is probably really close to popping the baby? up to you, can't wait to see what you write! :)

Kk so I went a little overboard with the fluff XD 

WC: 1.3k+ 

Pairing: Dad!Arvin Russell x Pregnant!Reader

Masterlist || Taglist 

Arvin was a protector by nature. He protected all the people he loved, whether it be his late sister, or his girlfriend, now wife and a mother of two. Before you had your first child, Arvin would constantly hover around you till it annoyed you to the point where you would sleep in a separate room.

("Hun don't lift those! You'll hurt the baby!" Arvin shrieked, rushing towards you as you held the shopping bag in your hand with an amused and angry expression. 

You were nearly six weeks pregnant, nowhere near your due date, and yet here you were.

"Arvin, this is one single shopping bag."

"Yes but you shouldn't! I saw what happened to the neighbour's wife when she tried to lift 'er bed!" 

"Arvin…" you said, tapping your foot impatiently, dropping the shopping bag near your couch.

He was looking at you with a worried expression. You didn't give him time to answer, instead pulling him for a deep kiss. 

And what if you were with a child? You were still horny and he was right there looking like a snack.) 

You found the protectiveness endearing, especially watching his gruff exterior cut through like a knife. But you were pregnant and you were grumpy, sick of his overbearing attitude and had finally asked him to leave you alone for two seconds, maybe have a cigarette or two. The poor guy had looked heartbroken that day, just enough for guilt to brew in your heart, but you stood your ground. 

That day also happened to be the day your first child, Willy, was born. You had convinced yourself that you would never witness such a site as of your husband holding your firstborn with utmost care and love radiating through his every pore, bobbing the baby’s little head as he hummed some lullaby, his soft voice lulling your tired form to sleep. 

“Mummy why is daddy walkin’ like that?” Your four year old son asked, looking at you with his daddy’s big doe eyes, making you coo at his adorable expression. 

You were sitting on the couch, nine months with your second child, way past your due date as your son sat besides you, a hand on your rounded belly, smoothing down your dress and “talking” to his brother. You found it cute, already feeling the love the little child was going to get from the second smallest member of the Russell family. 

You watched in amusement as Arvin paced the hallway, burning a hole in the rugs as he ran a hand through his hair, messing them up as he cursed softly. He had been like that from the day your second child was about to arrive, only for them to want to stay a little longer in your belly. 

"Honey you're gonna bear a hole in there." You said, burrowing your brows as he looked at you. He was a wreck, you could see it in how he tried to work two jobs, only to meet you when you were back in bed. 

“Daddy’s a little tense right now hun, he’s… he’s worried why the baby hasn’t come to us yet.” You said, caressing Willy’s head as he snuggled next to you, nodding with a faux serious expression. 

“Maybe the babe feels safer in your belly moma, it must feel very much loved.” He said with a toothy grin, bumping his nose to your bump as you laughed, hugging your little boy closer to you, tickling his sides, He shrieked with laughter as you bent down as much as you could to kiss his forehead.

“Well the little bugger has been kicking moma for a while now, I think he really wants to come, just findin’ it a wee difficult.” You said, hissing as you felt another kick under your ribs. Massaging the area just like the way your midwife had told you to. You sent your son a wink, hoping that he wouldn’t get too scared at your state. He, like his father, was also very protective of you and the baby.

Hissing at another contraction, you tried to do your breathing exercise, groaning at the pain you felt. 

“Daddy! Daddy moma is hurt!” Willy shouted, getting off the couch and running off to where Arvin had been pacing the room.

“No no no hun! Moma is alright, just a little- oh oh Arvin!” You groaned, stretching your husband's name at a painful contraction as you watch him frantically run towards you, stumbling at the carpet and falling on his knees in front of you.

“Hun? Baby speak to me, how far apart are the pains? Do you think it’s time? Should I-”

“Arvin?” You winced, holding your belly.

“Yes honey?”

“Shut the fuck up and do me a favour, get the bag ready will ya?” You said, clenching your jaw as tightly as you could without breaking your teeth, immediately feeling guilty at his crestfallen expression. He was only trying to help you.

“Yes, yes sweetheart, I'll be right back.” He said, scramming to go to your room to get the bag. You knew he had already packed it, unpacked and repacked it multiple times to keep his mind of the calendar. 

“Moma? Are you hurtin’?” You son asked, hearing a sniff. You sighed as you saw tears form in his eyes, running your hands through his hair as he sniffed loudly. 

“No bun, it’s nothing bad, moma’s fine. I swear.” 

“But you’re crying!” He cried out, launching himself on your chest. You sat down with a “oof”, the weight of your son sending you on your back sprawling on the couch.

“Willy! Be careful!” Arvin shouted, pulling your crying son off of you and palming his head as he buried his face into his father’s shoulder, wrapping his little arms around his neck as Arvin cooed at him, trying to shush his muffled cries. 

“It’s gonna be alright bubby, I’m not crying anymore, see?” You gritted, groaning loudly when you felt one resonate to your back, a pop sound startling you enough to widen your eyes.

A breath later, the only thing you could hear was your son’s sniffs and your breathing, the wetness between your thighs amplifying as you gave a loud groan, groping for your husband’s biceps, “It’s happening!” 

“Oh- oh fuck shit, sorry hun, Willy, do daddy a favor and open the car will you? We need to take moma to the hospital.” Arvin instructed your son, who obediently nodded, a determined expression taking over his adorable face as he ran outside. 

“Arvin!”

“Comin’ sweetheart, just a minute!” He grunted, positioning himself by your side, sliding his one hand under your knees and another at your back, You shrieked as he carried you bridal style, your son holding the door open for you.

You would have called the ride torturous had you not heard the shrill cries of your newborn, squishy wet cheeks and scrunched eyes fitted in the palm of your hands a few hours later. Laughing near hysterically, you gently rocked the newly swaddled baby boy in your arms, looking at your husband’s shiny eyes as he carefully touched the baby’s forehead. 

“He’s so tiny.” Arvin whispered, rubbing his thumb on the soft skin, watching in awe as the baby yawned, the little eyes scrunching up as they slowly opened, adjusting around the world in a newfound wonder. 

“He’s perfect.” You smiled, seeing your four year old hiding behind Arvin’s legs, watching you unsure of himself, “Come here bun, want to hold your brother?”

“I can hold him?” He asked, peaking at you through his eyelashes.

“Of course you can son.” Arvin chuckled, lifting the toddler as he sat on your bed, looking at you with wide eyes. 

"Here, hold his head, careful." You whispered, holding one hand on your older son's hands, guiding him to hold his little brother as he looked at the baby in wonder. 

"He's tiny!" Willy said, mimicking you when he saw you holding the baby. 

"You were this tiny too once, son." Arvin said, smiling at you and Willy. 

"No way! I'm a big boy." Willy argued, pouting, which made you and your husband laugh.

"Whatever you say baby."

[sweetkingdomstarlight-blog]

they were roommates

Warnings - non consensual sex, anal sex, somnophilia, forced drug use

Pairings - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words - over 2k

A/N - READ THE WARNINGS - I can’t stress this enough. Also if you are under 18 just shoo, bugger off. I wrote this from a prompt on @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​ stalker writing challenge, the prompt was your roommate isn’t who you thought they were. I’m still super new to writing and this is new territory for me, as always a huge massive thankyou to my beautiful wife @buckyownsmylife​ she helped me a lot and continues to hype me up.

It’s been six weeks since your friend got a new job upstate and moved out,. You’ve had an advert out for a new roommate but so far everyone who’s applied has either been rude or hasn’t shown up. You’re running low on your savings and would probably accept Satan himself if he could pay his fair share. That’s when your latest applicant knocked on your door.

James was polite and charming, he offered to pay a month up front to secure the room and could move in as soon as possible. You felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders when he moved in later that week, it was a bit odd that he had no friends to help him but he didn’t seem to have a lot of stuff and had himself sorted while you worked in your home office.

The first night he offered to buy pizza and beers so you could get to know each other better, it turns out you two had a lot of things in common and he was easy to get along with. You must have had a few too many beers because your head felt fuzzy, deciding it was time to go to bed. You said goodnight to James and stood up but felt so dizzy you had to immediately sit back down. James was so sweet though, looking after you, he actually picked you up and put you to bed so you didn't have to walk the short distance to your room.

Waking up the next morning you realised you were wearing a t-shirt you didn’t recognise but you didn’t remember getting changed, your mouth felt strangely dry so you got up for a drink. That’s when the soreness hit you, in between your legs, rushing to the bathroom you were confused that you weren’t getting your period and nothing seemed to be different. You assumed you were getting sick and went for hot tea to soothe yourself.

Sitting at the kitchen counter drinking and nibbling on some dry toast, James walks in looking like he’s just been for a run. He grabs a bottle of water and walks over to you giggling “you can’t possibly be hungover you only had three drinks last night” you look up at him smirking and sarcastically respond, “yeah, well, maybe I’m just a lightweight”.

As you get up to clear away your mess he clears his throat making you turn. “Should we have a system for when we have people over in the future?” You look at him confused. “I’m sorry what do you mean? Do you want to bring someone over tonight?”

He chuckles at you, “Well no, not tonight but if you want your friend from last night to come back I can make sure you have some privacy,” he offers you, smirking at the confused look on your face.

“I’m sorry, I don't understand, I went to sleep last night. I didn’t have anyone over.” Taking a step closer, he leans on the counter separating you both. “Then who did I hear you with last night and who did I kick out this morning?” You stare at him open mouthed and scurry off to your room to check your phone for some clues, you feel your chest tighten when you see that you matched with someone last night and invited him over. How could you not remember? You were absolutely mortified, what is James going to think of you now?

Sitting in your home office talking to idiot customers on the phone all day, you try to take your mind off what happened last night. How can you have invited someone over, had sex and apparently stolen his t-shirt without even knowing? You vow there and then you aren’t drinking ever again. However, the end of the week rolls by and it's been the absolute worst, your boss is a dick, your customers are all idiots and to top it off your best friend hasn’t responded to your calls all week and you don’t know why.

You have a quick shower and decide to spend the night binge watching whatever you can find on Netflix when James sits next to you handing you a gin and tonic. “Thanks but I’m not drinking for a little while.” You go to put the drink down but he pushes it up to your mouth

“Don’t be silly, you’ve had a hard week. One drink won’t hurt” smiling at him you take a sip and he’s right, you instantly relax and get cosy on the sofa, ordering chinese and laughing at the show you both decide on. Waking up in the middle of the night with a dry mouth again, you find yourself laying on your bed but this time you have your own clothes on which is a relief. Standing up, you feel a bit weird round the back like you’ve been stretched out with one of your plugs but that’s not possible, they’re hidden in your box under the bed.

You drink a big glass of water and sit on the kitchen counter, a little uncomfortably, but quietly and relax. Something has been off the last week and you can’t put your finger on it, it's always weird when you get a new roommate and you’ve put it down to that but you just sense something isn’t quite right. You lean your head back on the wall behind you and get a surprise when James walks round the corner. “Hey doll, you feeling ok? You looked a bit sickly earlier and went to bed. I didn’t want to wake you up.”

You nod at how sweet he was and drink some more water before hopping down. “I’m fine just going to sleep it off.” He takes your glass for you, offering to wash it and says goodnight, watching you walk away very closely and licking his lips as his eyes roam over your body.

It’s been a few weeks now since James moved in, he’s got to be the best roommate you’ve ever had. He pays his bills on time, keeps the place spotless and he’s such a good cook, always making food and drinks for you. It's lucky that he’s so kind because none of your friends seem to be in touch anymore, you message them and even try calling them but no one ever replies.

You sit watching your usual Friday night film with drinks and Chinese takeout, talking to James about both your weeks, tonight though he sits closer than usual and his face seems to light up when you talk to him. He’s possibly the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in real life, you’ve never looked at him that way before because not only is he your roommate but he’s so far out of your league it's laughable. You tell one of your stupid jokes and he laughs with his whole body, his arm goes around the back of the sofa and he pulls you in close, hugging into him, you relax biting your lip when he kisses the top of your head.

That was the beginning of it for you both. You had daily movie nights, he cooked for you every day, listened when you got upset that your friends seemed to have dropped you and even encouraged you to start running with him. Everything felt perfect, you still occasionally woke up sore with a dry mouth but James told you it was just your body getting used to all the exercise you were now doing. Both of you had really found each other, loners who just needed someone to listen.

You went down to collect your mail one day and stood talking to your elderly neighbour when she told you how familiar James looked, she couldn’t work out where she knew him from but she praised you on finding such a nice young man who apparently had carried her groceries up the stairs for her when the elevator was broken. Smiling at her you told her to have a good morning and went back to your apartment looking at the thick brown envelope addressed to you, you never really got anything in the post except the occasional leaflet. James had made you a coffee and you smiled at him taking the package in your room to open while you got ready to have a shower.

In the shower you decided tonight would be the night with James, you shaved yourself from head to toe and used your best lotions. Winking at him as you walked to your room, he had a weird look on his face and couldn’t seem to look at you. In your room the envelope had been moved, it looked like it was open too. Bending down to pick it up you hear James behind you but before you can turn around you feel a pain in your neck and everything goes dark.

You wake up with a blinding headache and go to move but your body feels too heavy. “Ssshh sweetheart, don’t move, I had to tie you up for your own safety.” You look at him confused, trying to pull on your wrists but you can’t move.

“James, what’s happening?” Sitting next to you he slips some ice chips in your mouth to ease your dry throat and takes a deep breath.

“You can blame your friend, we were so happy and she had to try and take you away from me.” A tear runs down your cheek, you’ve never heard him talk like this and it’s terrifying. “I told your little friends to leave you alone or I’d take care of them all but they just didn’t listen.” He throws the envelope down and slowly shows you the newspaper clippings and articles they had sent you, apparently he was on the run and considered dangerous, something to do with what happened with the helicarriers that crashed a few months ago.

“I’m not the Winter Soldier anymore,” he says with a smirk, wiping your tears away and tutting. “Don’t be scared of me, I’m doing this for you, for us!” Pulling on the restraints on your feet and arms again he shouts, “Enough!” You stop immediately, scared of what he‘ll do if you don’t. “You were so nice to me on the phone when I first got free, you helped me hire that car that brought me to New York. I hacked into your company's database and found you. Your roommate was easy to convince with a little bit of money and I hired all those people to come and see you so when I finally got my chance you’d want me as much as I’ve wanted you”

“Why didn’t you just ask me out like a normal person?” You managed to stutter out, trying not to sound too pathetic.

“You never leave the house, you stay home all day working then sit watching TV all night, I saw you through the webcam. You really should be more careful.” He smirks before running his fingers over your naked body. Feeling how smooth and soft your skin is he smiles. “Did you do all this for me? Sweetheart, I’ve already had all of you, you don’t have to do anything special for me. I love you just the way you are”.

The realisation hits you and you sob loudly. “Have you been touching me while I sleep?” He tilts his head to the side and looks at you with so much admiration.

“You’re so smart, I’ve been preparing you to be mine. I didn’t know how long it's been since you’ve been with a real man, not those silly little toys under your bed and I wanted our first time to be special. I even set up that fake dating account so you would think you had a guy over on that first night.” He strokes your cheek and you have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from crying.

“James I’m cold, can you untie me and we can talk properly, please.” He studies your face for a brief moment before leaning forward and chuckling in your ear.

“You can’t think I’m that stupid baby, oh and you can call me Bucky now. If you’re going to be mine forever we need to get better acquainted.” He drops his sweatpants and straddles your hips. “We’re going to have so much fun”.

[sugar-bunii]

Adrenaline rush

You and Octane have been going steady for about 4 months now, everything has been perfect so far but something was missing. You’ve always wanted to be sexually intimate with him but he hasn’t been picking up on any of your hints.

First it was asking to shower together but he was too worried about taking off his prosthetics, next it was when you asked him if he wanted to try something new. He got exited but started going on about the new sushi bar that opened. Another time was just you walking into the room in a towel after showering, he quickly covered his eyes and left so you could get dressed.

As clueless as he was you decided to ask him directly once he got home from the arena. 9:47 rolled around and he opened the door excitedly, “Hey, you’re home early what’s up?” You ask him as he settled down next to you on the couch. “We got a flawless victory and the announcer said we deserved to go home early and take a break!” He wrapped his arm over your shoulder and you put your head on his arm. You thought if you were going to ask it might as well be now.

“What’s up with that look on your face, are you thinking about something?” He asked, taking his mask and placing it on the table. “I was just thinking of a way to celebrate this victory of yours.” You strattled him and kicked your leg on the other side of him. “Woah what’s this about?” He said with a smirk. You whispered in his ear “how about we take this to the bedroom?” A look of excitement washed over his face. “I thought you’d never ask!” He said with excitement, picked you up and practically ran to your room.

As he placed you on the bed he switched the playlist you were listening to, “Why’d you do that?” Slightly joking but almost offended. “I’ve got a special playlist I’ve been working on” he states and sticks his tongue out playfully. He puts on a playlist called “bangers” and the first song that plays is The hills by “The Weeknd.”

“Kay, now where we’re we?” You take off your shirt and he does the same, he stares at your topless body for what feels like forever, “wow,,,you look absolutely stunning” you feel a blush come over you due to the unexpected compliment. He began kissing your stomach, slowly moving his way up planting kisses all over your body, your scars, and taking his time with your stretch marks. You can hear him counting with every kiss.

He hovers over your neck, hesitating before resuming with the kisses “67, 68, 69 hehe 69, 70, 71…” he giggles and continues. The kisses started to become more and more passionate, leaving hickeys on your neck “mine, mine, mine” he mumbled as he ventured from your neck, to your jaw, moving to your lips.

As he pressed his lips to yours he moved one of his hands against your cheek and another slowly moving toward your sweatpants, “is it okay if I-“ you cut him off “oh please help yourself” you say as you waste no time getting back to connecting your lips. You place a hand on his chest and break away from the kiss gasping for air.

Octane pressed his forehead against yours as you both pant, “god I love you so much” he says “I love you too” he smiles as starts working his way into your panties and rubbing circles around your clit. The sudden movement sent a feeling of sensation through your body, your heavy breathing triggered something in Octane to start moving his long now dampened fingers faster at an exhilarating speed.

“Let me hear your pretty noises my love” Octane says as he began kissing your neck once more, as you moan in his ear you receive what sounded to be a mix between a growl and a moan from him. “Please~put them in me” you beg, with a slight hesitation Octane slips two fingers into your dripping wet pussy. “God you’re taking me so well, mi amor~ don’t cum yet, we still have a few more rounds to go and I want to make it last” He says with a raspy tone into your ear.

He pulls his fingers out of you as you’re on the verge of your climax, you let out a small simper and Octane seems to have noticed. “Oh what’s the matter baby, did you want me to keep going?” He says tauntingly. Octane slowly moves down your body trailing his hands, wandering almost like they had a mind of their own.

Octane propped himself up as he was hovering above your pelvis, he slid your sweatpants down every so slowly that you thought you would lose your mind if he didn’t hurry up. For being one of the fastest legends he sure did like taking his time with you. “Oh my, you’re soaking wet just because of these little guys” he says licking his fingers clean of your lingering taste. “And you did say I could help myself.” He says with a smirk.

He stood up and pulled something out of the nightstand next to the bed, “I picked this little bugger up last week.” He says sticking his tongue out at you. “You’re really taking your time tonight, aren’t you?” You ask impatiently “I’m exited and I kinda like making you wait.” He stuck out his tongue and opened the package to reveal a vibrating tongue piercing. He replaced the bar in his tongue with the rubber covered piercing and quickly got back to his position.

“Are you going to be able to handle this?” He teases. “It’ll depend on how well you can use it, but we’ll have to wait and see” you say in response. “If you say so” Octane says as he turns on the little bug in his mouth, as soon as the vibrations hit your lower lips your back arches and your hips buck upwards. Octane steadies your hips and pins then to the bed, for having such a small build he’s so much stronger than you’d think.

As he’s slurping up every drop that drips from your pussy the piercing is perfectly hitting your sweet spot. As he focused more on your clit one of his hands teased the surrounding area of your dripping hole. “God your little hole is so pathetic, dripping just from this piercing, let’s see if you can handle three fingers this time. Just tell me if it’s too much for you, okay?” Octane says reassuring you, making sure you feel comfortable. “Okay, I~” you’re cut off by his fingers curling inside you, keeping a steady pace but fast enough to satisfy his constant need for speed.

Steadily Octane began going faster and faster, in and out of your pussy, the noises from all of your juices leaking out with the speed of his fingers. You run your fingers though his hair and your other hand grips the sheets as you teacher your climax. “Octane, oh god, I’m gonna cum” you desperately say, bucking your hips and arching your back more and more. “Good baby, cum in my mouth, you’re doing so good for me”

As you finally reach your climax you thought it would be over from there, but as Octane held your legs down and locked in, you know you would be there for longer than you anticipated. “Oh good girl, but we’re not doing this for your pleasure, we’re doing this for me, it’s so fun to see you squirm and moan just because of me” You could feel your body getting hotter and hotter, the room smelt of sex and “It wasn’t me” by shaggy filled the silence in the room aside from the sound of the piercing in Octane’s mouth buzzing away as he started to ride you over the edge.

As you moaned his name and gripped his hair he would continue to rub your clit and finger your dripping hole, he moaned praises into your pussy and spat on it from time to time. Soon tears started to form in your eyes from the overstimulation, he had been eating you out for what seemed to have been hours but he didn’t seem to have lost any stamina from fingering you as fast as he did.

Octane started to slow down the pace of his fingers, looking up at you. Your body was twitching, tears stained your face, and you let out small whimpers and he finally removed his fingers from your drenched hole and replaced the burnt out piercing with the original bar that was in its place. “You did so good for me, baby. I’m so proud of you.” He said as he grabbed a wet rag from the bathroom. As he cleaned you up he praised you and told you how much you meant to him.

After he got you cleaned up he pulled an oversized shirt from the closet and clean underwear for you to put on. He placed you on the couch, put the bedsheets in the washer, and drew a bubble bath for the both of you.

He picked you up off the couch, undressed you and put you into the bathtub. “Are you gonna join me in here?” You ask with little energy. “Of course my love, I just need to remember if my legs are waterproof or not.” As he takes off his leg he looks at the small writing on the back of them: made for any type of terrain, adventure, and damage. “We’ll be fine”

He removes what little clothing he had left on him and slipped into the bathtub behind you, grabbing the shampoo and washing your hair. For how rough he was a few minutes ago he was quite gentle scrubbing the shampoo into your hair. “I love you mi amor, I really do mean it, you’re my everything and I would do anything to keep you happy” Octane rinsed your hair and planted soft kisses on your neck and shoulders. “I love you too, we should do this more often, Ive been trying to drop hints but I didn’t think you were picking up on any of them.” You respond as you move your hair to make way for his kisses.

“You have? I guess you just have to be more straight forward with me, but if I think you’re dropping hints I’ll ask before I assume.” He says in response rubbing body wash on your shoulders and arms. “Sounds good to me, thank you again, I love you.” You say with a slight hum to your voice. “I love you too y/n”

End

———————————————————————

Thank you for reading!! This is my first fanfic and it took me just about two days to make. Expect more in the future unless I get flagged for inappropriate content.

I may or may not have had to look up if octanes prosthetics were waterproof, but I’d say I like how this turned out!