#it's only been a week and he's already learned that screaming at us gets him nothing

[thebarkpaladin]

just a babby

[discoreptile]

Beasties of Greenhollow soundtrack! Some tracks on this are from older projects like elphame but all of them have been reworked in some way. Most of them are entirely new. Enjoy!

[itneverendshere]

how does a moment last forever - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

Rafe’s sitting on the deck of his family’s boat, the sun finally starting to dip a little lower in the sky, casting this beautiful orange-pink glow over the water. It’s a perfect evening—calm, warm, everything laid out exactly how he planned. But his hands are sweating so bad he feels like he’s about to jump out of a fucking plane.

You’re sitting across from him, legs crossed, sipping on a drink and looking out over the water. You’re not a big fan of all the fancy Cameron stuff, but you’ve always had this soft spot for the boat.

Rafe doesn’t know what it is—maybe it’s the quiet out here, away from everything and everyone. It’s just you two. It’s always been like that on the water.

He's embarrassed to admit he’s been carrying the ring around for a couple of weeks now, trying to find the right moment. He kept thinking he’d know when the timing was perfect, but here he is, overthinking it.

Should’ve just done it the second you stepped on board, but nah, he’s an idiot, waiting for the right line of conversation or whatever.

The problem is, you know him better than anyone else, even himself.

You always do. It’s like you’ve got this radar, and right now, it’s probably screaming at you that he’s acting weird.

Over the past three years you’ve learned all his tells. He feels like he’s coming undone, and not in the way he’s used to. He’s fought people, and had these moments that should’ve sent his adrenaline through the roof.

But this? 

Asking you to marry him? It’s on a whole other level.

You turn to Rafe, catching him staring, and you raise an eyebrow.

"You’ve been acting weird all day."

There it is. Busted. You always knew when something’s up. He takes a deep breath, "’not acting weird."

"Liar."

You lean back against the cushions, smiling at him like you know all his secrets. And hell, you do.

"You’re doing that thing again," you point towards his fidgeting fingers, and now you’re fully facing him, your glass resting against your knee. "Spill it."

Rafe moves in his seat, running a hand through his recently buzzed hair. You’d liked it so much the last time he did, last year, he decided it was only fair to do it again. 

This isn’t how he planned it.

He thought he’d get some big, romantic speech out, but he can't think straight now. He’s never been so nervous in his life, not even when he thought you’d never take him back after you saw him relapse. 

"Alrigh’, fine," He mutters, pushing up from his seat to stand. "Give me a sec."

Your eyes follow him, confused but curious, and he walks over to where he stashed the ring in his jacket pocket. He can feel you watching him, probably trying to figure out what the hell he’s doing.

He reaches in, fingers brushing over the small box, and for a second, everything gets real quiet in his head. He can hear the water lapping against the side of the boat, the hum of the wind, and then just... you. 

Just you both.

Rafe turns around, and you’re sitting there, waiting. Still waiting. Always patient with him, even when he was an idiot.

This is it. It’s not some high-stakes deal, no street fights, no mess of his past haunting him—it’s just him and you, the girl who’s been there through it all. 

And somehow, this feels bigger than anything else. Maybe you already know. Maybe you’ve known this whole time. Your eyes meet his, and for a second, he swears he forgets how to breathe.

Rafe crosses the short distance between you and drops to one knee. He doesn’t think about it. It’s instinct now, like muscle memory, the way he moves. The way he’s always moved toward you, like you’re the only thing pulling him forward.

Your eyes widen, and for the first time today, you look genuinely surprised. Your drink forgotten, you lean forward, hands resting lightly on your knees, mouth parted in a silent gasp.

"Look," Rafe starts, his voice catching, and he clears his throat. "I—I don’t have a big speech planned. You know me." He laughs, but it’s nervous, shaky. His heart’s still threatening to jump out of his chest, and he’s not sure how he’s supposed to get through this without his whole nervous system exploding. "But I’ve been carrying this thing around for weeks, waiting for the right time. Thinking I’d know when it was perfect or something."

He opens the box, revealing the ring. The diamond catches the last bit of sunlight, sparkling like it’s part of this whole perfect evening. Your eyes flicker down to it, then back to him.

"The truth is," He continues, "there’s never gonna be a perfect moment. Not for us. Because every moment I’m with you feels like it already is. Somehow, you’re still here, you’ve always been here baby, so I must be doin’ something’ right," He pauses, trying to stabilize his voice "And I want that. Forever. Just you and me."

You blink, and he sees the way your lips tremble, like you’re holding back tears. It’s rare for you to get emotional, but there’s something about this—about him, down on one knee, baring his soul—that’s gonna make you sob like a baby.

"I know I’m not perfect. Far from it." He swallows hard, his throat dry. "But I love you. More than I ever thought I could love anyone. And I want to spend the rest of my life proving that to you."

His heart is pounding so hard, he’s sure you can hear it. This is the most vulnerable he’s ever been, and it scares the fuck out of him.

Because if you say no, there’s no way he’s ever recovering from the heartbreak.  

"Will you marry me?" Rafe’s voice is just whisper, but it feels like the loudest thing in the world.

You’re silent for a second, staring at him with those wide eyes. Then, without warning, you laugh—this breathless sound—like you can’t believe this is happening and you’re nodding, tears falling over before you can stop them.

"Yeah," you manage, your voice breaking. "Of course I will. Yes!"

The relief hits him so hard he almost falls on his ass he but then he’s slipping the ring onto your finger, and you’re already pulling him up, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in there.

Rafe feels your arms wrap tightly around his neck, your breath against his skin, the way your body molds perfectly against his.

He’s still half in shock, still processing that you said yes, that you’re now officially his forever. You bury your face into his shoulder, and he can feel your tears soaking into his shirt, but you don’t let go. 

Before he knows it, he’s crying too. Really crying.

Not the kind of tears he’s able to swallow back or hide. These are the ones he can’t control, the kind that make his whole being shake as he also buries his face in your neck. 

You don’t say anything yet— you just hold him, one hand stroking the back of his head with your thumb, the other rubbing soothing circles on his back. Rafe pulls back slightly, his wet eyes meeting yours, both of you sniffling, your cheeks streaked with tears.

There’s this split second where you’re both just looking at each other, eyes puffy, noses red, overwhelmed by everything you’ve just shared. 

Then, you both start laughing.

It starts with a chuckle, but then it builds, like neither of you can help it. His shoulders shake as the laugh spills out of him, and soon enough, you’re giggling too.

Loud, uninhibited, like you can’t believe this is real.

"Are we really doing this?" you ask through your laughter, wiping your eyes, your voice still cracking from all the crying. "We’re actually getting married?"

He nods, "Yeah, we are," he says, there’s this huge grin on his face now, the kind that makes his dimples show. "Holy shit, we’re getting married."

You throw your head back, laughing harder, clutching your stomach like you’re afraid you might fall over from the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

Rafe watches you, the way the joy lights up your face, the way your eyes crinkle at the corners, and he can’t stop himself from laughing along with you.

This is perfect. You're perfect.

You’re still holding onto him, but your eyes are drawn to the ring on your finger. It sparkles in the orange light, the diamond catching the last bit of the sunset and making it glimmer like something straight out of a dream.

You stare at it in disbelief, turning your hand slightly to watch the light bounce off the edges.

"Holy shit," you breathe, eyes wide. "That rock is huge."

Rafe chuckles, leaning back to watch your reaction, wiping at the last of his tears. He seems a little proud of himself, though, seeing your expression. "You like it?"

"Like it?" You shake your head, laughing again. "I love it, but—baby, be honest, how much did you spend on this?" You give him a half-teasing look, your voice laced with shock. "Seriously, how much?"

He grins, you’ve seen a million times before, but this time, there’s so much love behind it.

"Wouldn’t you like to know, Miss Cameron-to-be?"

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face at his playful tone.

"Oh, so we’re keeping secrets now, huh?"

Rafe shrugs, but you can see the way his chest is still rising and falling like he’s calming down from all the emotions. "Maybe I just wanted to get you something special. You deserve it."

"Special?" You giggle, holding up your hand and tilting it toward the light again. "This thing could probably pay off the boat. You didn’t need to go this crazy.”

"I wanted to." He says it simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He reaches for your hand again, gently pulling it down so he can look at you. "I wanted you to have something that shows you what you mean to me. Even if it’s just a piece of jewelry, I wanted it to be something worthy of you, baby.”

Suddenly you’re not thinking about the size of the diamond or how much it must’ve cost. You’re thinking about him—how much this must’ve meant to him, how hard he must’ve worked to make this moment perfect for you. 

You’re thinking about how stupid you would’ve been back then if you’d never given him the chance. If you’d refused his ride home. If you’d continued to push him away when he so clearly only wanted you to be his. You feel that familiar warmth in your chest, the one that only comes from knowing how much he truly loves you.

You shake your head as you lean back into him.

"You know, you could’ve proposed with a ring pop, and I still would’ve said yes, right?"

Rafe laughs, his shoulders shaking as he pulls you closer. "Yeah, I know. But you’re not getting out of this that easily."

You smile, resting your chin against his chest.

"Fine, I’ll take the giant diamond. But seriously, Rafe—thank you. It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful."

He kisses the top of your head, his arms wrapping around you tightly, "You ready for this?" he murmurs his low against your temple.

You pull back just enough to peek up at him, your hand resting on his chest, the ring catching the light again. "For what? Marrying you?"

He nods, his blue eyes soft, his smile still a little shaky from everything that’s just happened.

"Yeah. Forever. You and me."

You smile up at him, and without hesitation, you nod. "I’ve been ready for that for a long time."

Rafe’s smile widens, and he leans down to kiss you—slow and sweet, like he’s savoring every second of it, he’s got all the time in the world.

He has you forever. 

You draw back from the kiss, grinning up at him with that playful glint in your eyes that he’s always loved.

You tilt your head slightly, "So," you start, lacing your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes, "How am I ever going to show my gratitude for this?" You wiggle your fingers, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, it is a pretty big ring."

His smirk spreads slowly, the kind of smile that makes your brain go fuzzy, and you can imagine the gears turning in his head. His big hands drop down to your waist, his fingers digging into the soft flesh there, pulling you just a little bit closer.

"I’ve got a few ideas," he murmurs, his breath warm against your neck as he leans in, his lips brushing your skin.

You shiver at the contact, the heat from his hands and mouth making your thighs clench.

“Yeah?" you almost pant, he’s always affected you like this. "What kind of ideas?"

His lips suck lightly against the sensitive spot on your neck, and you’ve never been so thankful to be holding on to him. His hands grip your waist a little tighter, his thumbs tracing slow circles against your hips as he speaks between soft kisses. 

"Let’s just say you’re gonna be thanking me for a while."

You laugh softly, the sound making him delirious, it’s somewhere between a giggle and a breathless sigh as his lips trail up to your jaw. "I see. So this is part of your grand plan, huh?"

"Mmhm," he hums, not pulling away, teeth still nipping at your skin. His hands slide down your back, squeezing gently. "You think I spent all that time planning this just for a 'thank you'?"

You chuckle, tilting your head to give him better access to your neck, "Now that you mention it, I did say yes. Isn’t that enough?"

He lifts his head slightly, enough to look at you, his lips still inches from yours, his smirk widening.

"You think you can just say yes and call it a day? Nah, baby, I want the whole deal."

TAGLIST: @italiekim @luannemarureis

if you ever asked me to me tagged in my all my works and you're not tagged here or haven't been tagged yet, please lmk!! i'm writing down every taglist from all my different works!

[inbabylontheywept]

Weird Grandpa Story #2

I remember asking my mom once, if her dad had gotten ornerier as he'd gotten old. I'd heard about that happening, and it would've made sense for him. He was already the orneriest old cuss I'd ever met. Couldn't even imagine him being grumpier than he was.

Instead of answering the question directly, she told me about what it was like going to church with him as a kid. Their church was a small Mormon ward out in the sticks of Colorado, and he served as their Bishop - mostly by virtue of being the only one willing to do that much unpaid work. He was also the ward pianist. He actually liked playing piano, and he liked having an audience, so it was more or less understood that he was willing to be the bishop in exchange for being the pianist. 

Which could've been a good trade, but there were a few problems.

The first problem was that Grandpa Dale played every song at about triple speed. He was a deeply impatient person, and that extended to how he played music. The second problem was that he had a bad habit of cursing under his breath. That would've been a scandalous  enough habit for a Mormon bishop, but was made much worse (and also much funnier)  by him being pretty damn deaf. So what he thought of as "quiet" cursing under his breath was more of just a verse hoarse way of yelling. I only visited him for a week or two every summer, and I still learned most of my bad words from him. 

So every Sunday would start with a quiet prayer, and then Bishop Grandpa Dale would go to the piano, sit down, and play the nightcore version of Praise to the Man. He would occasionally play other hymns, but he really, really liked that one. This would continue until he hit a wrong note, which was basically inevitable because his music philosophy was that if he could play a song flawlessly, it was time to play it faster. So he'd play until he hit that wrong note, at which point he would scream-whisper SHIIIIIT and, because he did not actually read music so much as memorize it, the only way he'd be able to get his rhythm back was by going back to the start. 

If it was a good Sunday, he could get it in two tries. Some Sundays took as many as five. 

I learned two things about Grandpa Dale from this story. The first was that he could play piano. I'd never actually seen him do that before. Still haven't, come to think of it. Second was that the man that I visited once a year, who always seemed on the verge of exploding, who scared the absolute dickens out of me, was actually the chilled out version of the man my mom grew up with.

And it helped knowing that, actually. I'm actually a pretty anxious person, and my mom is, also, a pretty anxious person, and as a teenager we'd sometimes get in these doom loops where we'd wind each other up until our springs cracked. She'd be worried about me growing up to be happy, and I'd be worried about letting her down, and my worrying would make me unhappy, and my unhappiness would make her unhappy, and we'd just kind of dissolve into these anxieties like cotton candy in the sea and become totally unbearable to be around for a bit. Then my dad would sit us both down and very politely tell us that we were being crazy. He had this quote how being sad that someone else is sad that you're sad is the emotional equivalent of being a Klein flask and that at some point you have to just say I am allowed one (1) single layer of emotional recursion, at most, and ideally zero. 

And it was always kind of embarrassing and silly, but when I was tempted to be more upset with my mom about it, I could remember the piano story and go: Sheesh. She has more of a right to be anxious that I do. For me it's really just genetics, but she grew up with the Cactus-Killing Gopher-Smasher. A whole 18 years of that. I spent two weeks every summer with that guy, and I love him, but I always came home feeling like I'd survived something. She's a trooper.

[milkteabinniechan]

♡Dark Cinema - Minho

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY MEMBERSHIP//M.LIST

pairing: bf! Minho x fem! reader

summary:Your boyfriend has been so busy lately. It will be nice to spend some quiet time alone in a dark theater together. And you know that Minho has a difficult time keeping his hands to himself.

warnings: exhibitionism, humiliation, fingering, dom! Minho, orgasms, squirting

“Movie night!” You tugged at Minho's shirt as the two of you walked into the crowded movie theater together.

Friday nights were always busy, but with the new Deadpool & Wolverine out, people were flocking to the theater in mob-sized groups. Minho stepped to the counter and bought your tickets. He bought popcorn and your favorite candy without even a second thought. You had long ago established that there were certain food groups that were absolutely necessary to consume during a movie, to this rule there could be no argument. So Minho had learned about the salty/sweet combination and never questioned you again.

Your seats were towards the middle so you could get the best view of the film. There was no one beside either one of you, but there were a few couples in front and behind you. You half expected Minho to pick seats more towards the back of the theater to give the two of you more privacy. You turned towards him before the lights went down and leaned into his ear.

“Thank you for this. I love you.” Your voice was soft and warm against Minho's ear. The sensation sent a shiver down his spine.

He groaned low and you leaned back to face the screen. He replied with a simple, “I love you too.” What he really wanted to say was,

I want to kiss you.

I want to taste you.

I want to make you moan.

I want to feel you squeeze around me.

Minho was desperate. He had been working like a dog for weeks. Every night he got home, you were already asleep. He could feel the blood pumping to his dick every time he looked at you. He needed to have you. Now. He couldn't take it anymore. He started to squeeze your thigh, slowly moving it up towards your most sensitive spots.

“Don't be too loud, princess. We don't want to interrupt the movie for everyone else, do we?” Minho's voice was thick with desire. His hands moved and swayed across the lining of your cotton panties.

You held your breath and tried to keep your whimpers low. The cushion of the movie theater seat was almost pulling you in as you pressed your back hard against it. Minho knew exactly what he was capable of. He loved to see you squirm like this. Like a little bunny with its legs caught in a trap. His breath was coming out in short and uneven huffs as he moved closer to your ear.

That's it, let's see how ready you are for me, princess.” Minho's long, slender middle finger slid beneath the hem of your underwear to the slick folds underneath. His finger dipped inside for a moment, bringing back a long, sticky string of juices to your clit. His index finger joined in on the fun and began to touch and incite along your swollen bud. Your legs squeezed together while you held your breath tight inside your throat. Your mouth was pressed firmly closed. You knew if you parted your lips for even just a second, a desperate, needy little noise would hiss past your teeth and out into the room. Movie goers would hear of the disgusting, perverted woman that moaned and whined inside a theater.

Minho's fingers continued to swirl and move around and inside your cunt. The juices now abundance and spread across your clit. He leaned his head into your neck, mercilessly licking and nibbling your neck until you had no choice but to whimper softly. Some small squeaks of pleading and begging poured from your wet mouth as you dug your fingers into the armrest of the chair.

“Please, Minho…” was all you could muster as your boyfriend's fingers continued to slip and glide in and out of you.

“Please what? Use your words.” Minho let out a soft, taunting chuckle.

Every ounce of your being was screaming and clawing and begging for release. And Minho knew it. He could see it in your twisted expression just how close to the edge you were. He knew exactly how to make you come undone. Like a careful safe cracker, turning the dial a little this way, then a little that way. Until the door swings wide open, revealing the treasure inside.

Minho flexed the muscle in his forearm and allowed his fingers to slide deep into your walls. You clenched around him with a pathetic pull until he was knuckle deep. A possessive pace began as his middle and index finger worked in tandem, hooking their way up towards your belly button and hitting that perfect point that made the sparks in your brain flicker on and off and on again.

He wanted to see what kind of mess you could make in front of all these people, his little princess, his good girl. He wanted to know how unraveled you could get for him. You pressed your hand against your mouth and cried into your palm. Something unholy was happening between your legs and you needed to climb to the top of this ungodly mountain to see what lay on the other side.

“Fuck!” You moaned out loud, in between a car chase scene. The cars on the screen flipped and crumpled onto the unforgiving pavement, while your orgasm seeped and streamed out of you leaving you a limp and boneless mess.

Minho smiled proudly, sliding his fingers from inside your panties and into your mouth. Your mind was so fuzzy and distracted you didn't even fight it, with Minho's soaked fingers dancing along your tongue.

“You taste so good, don't you?”

taglist: @simply-trash5 @sugawhaaa @trixiekaulitz @chrizzztopherbang @cassidymb121 @roanns-posts @staysinbloom @yaorzu-blog @bubblebisk @cotton-candycloudz @beautyinhypnosis @domicaru @strawberry31 @slxtmeri @newhope8 @tinyelfperson @dandelions-143 @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @msauthor @fun-fanfics @ell0thebell @stephanieeeyang @juskz @kimahreummm @readr1221 @kayleefriedchicken @ovulatingrn @hwnglixho @darthmaddie25 @queen-in-the-shadows @itgirlalisaa @miinhoo @greyaia @chanchansgirly @skzleeknowcore @skz-smut-reader @thatisrankharry

[dcxdpdabbles]

Danny's Grill Part 2

Special thanks to @mkarchin713 for letting me use their idea.

Tim's night had been hectic.

Not only have things at WE taken a turn for the worst due to some random influencer that decided Wayne Enterprises was the cause of global warming and convinced all his fans of the same- despite the fact they were the nation's leading company in green energy- sales have been down.

The board was breathing down his neck to fix the stocks while being no help at all to get the youth back on their side. He's already pulled twelve hours of overtime this week and it was only Wednesday.

He's been dealing with the PR nightmare while trying to get to the bottom of data theft across multiple big-name technology companies. Reports of scams and total funds lost were reported all through Gotham and only his city.

Tim suspects someone had been planting screen recording devices in one of Gotham's shipping factories before they left the buildings, stealing all the information from new buyers.

Since his theory is so hard to trace, he's been having difficulty pinpointing the base of operations, never mind having enough proof for his thesis. After Bruce's lost-in-time fiasco, Tim learns to have evidence before going to the family with anything.

So that means he's been trying to fight his way on his own, which usually isn't too much to handle, but stress and lack of sleep have really been slowing him down.

Thankfully, a specific food truck appears in his line of sight, and his mood improves drastically. He finds a safe roof to quickly change into his civilians, already fantasizing about what delicious food he would eat.

Dressed in his typical Alvin Draper disguise- black, almost second-skin tights and an oversized sweater- he all but skips to Danny's Grill.

"Night, Danny," He says, smiling at the back of the chef. He leans on the little extended table outside the truck's small window. He takes a sniff of the air, mouth watering at the scent.

Looks like tonight is cheeseburgers, as Danny carefully flips some patties. Danny whirls around with a smile of his own, only to drop the spatula in horror.

"Alvin! What happened!?" Danny shouts, nearly flinging himself through the tiny opening. The vigilante blinks in confusion before catching his reflection in the napkin dispenser.

In his haste to have some of Danny's food, he forgot to cover up a black eye, swollen right cheekbone, and busted lip from his last faulty lead. A goon had gotten him by surprise and had nearly rearranged his face before he was able to get his wits about him.

"Nothing, really; it comes with the job, you know?" Tim tries to play off, laughing nervously when Danny's expression crumbles into pure rage. "Look, it's no big deal-"

"How can it not be a big deal!? Half your face is swollen!"

That happens when someone hits you with a metal pipe in the face. He thinks hysterically. "I've had worse."

"That's not comforting!" Danny screams, throwing off his apron. "Let me close down, and I'll take you to a doctor-"

"No hospitals. They'll ask where I got this, and I can't answer that." Tim cuts in, voice hard. There is a tense moment where he thinks Danny will force him to go anyway, but after a moment the other man growls slamming his hands on the counter.

"Fine. Fine. No hospitals. At least let me ice it." It takes everything in Tim not to shrink back from the hateful tone. He barely has the mind to nod as Danny quickly unlocks the little door that leads into his truck, ushering the Bat inside with barely controlled rage.

He knows it's not aimed at him, but being around someone so upset makes his skin crawl. Tim has problems with offending people; his parents had been masters in drilling into him from a young age.

That's why Tim always sought the approval of everyone around him, even if he couldn't stand the person.

He has been working on it, but old habits died hard.

"Sorry." He mumbles as Danny quickly gets a zippy bag full of ice.

"Don't. Apologize." Danny bites before taking a large breath, clearly trying to calm down. He gently places the ice against Tim's cheek, staring at him with such tender worry Tim can't help but feel butterflies. "You don't have to apologize for getting roughed up. Never. Okay?"

Tim nods, shyly looking away as his stomach is rapidly overrun by even more butterflies. "Okay."

"Come home with me." Danny suddenly blurts as if the words were forced out of him. He looked just as surprised by them as Tim was.

"What?"

"Just for tonight. Just so I know you're safe." Danny all but pleas, and Tim- well, Tim has never been known to be strong enough to resist his impulses. Sure, the family might worry, but he can send them a message claiming to be undercover, and frankly- it's been so long since Tim's had a break.

He's always wanted to know more about Danny outside his food truck. He hadn't been able to find much on him. Tim is a detective by heart. He wants to know everything there is to know about Danny Fenton.

"I can leave when I want." He says, as Danny carefully places a warm hand on his other cheek. "And I sleep in my own space. No bed sharing. I also want to take a shower but I don't have anything to sleep in."

"You can borrow something of mine/ Whatever you need." The words are practically a warm hug, and Tim feels relaxed. Already the shitty week feels less terrible, and he finds himself growing bold enough to take an obvious sniff of the air.

"Can I have a burger?"

There is a hint of an amused smile, but it does not cover up the worry. "Of course you can."

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

The shower is running in Danny's house.

It's a bit out of the way, about a forty-minute drive outside of Gotham limits, but it's spacious and private, just the way Danny liked it.

Ever since he inherited his title, he's found this house on the list of properties, and that was why he chose to take Gotham by storm in his little truck.

Danny isn't really sure what the story of the property was- the suspects the place was built around the same time Gotham got its curse; seeing as it was overseeing the city and had enough natural ectoplasm in the air, he would suspect the curse affecting the town lead to here. He never cared to check.

No, rather Danny had some ghosts remodel the old building to include wiring and functioning plumbing but asked that the general overall of the mansion stay the same.

He sort of like pretending to be a Lord of the Oldden days. If anyone asked if he walked around acting out old romances of the Victorian era, that was not else business but his own.

Alvin was undoubtedly impressed when they pulled up to his house. Maybe it shouldn't have felt so prideful to have the handsome man be impressed with his mansion given the circumstances.

He seemed to accept the excuse of having been willed the house by his late grandfather. He just hoped Alvin didn't think him the same as his wealthy clients.

Speaking of, he better make the call before Alvin finished.

Stepping to his balcony, he pulled out his burner phone and pressed the speed dial five. There are four rings before the call connects.

He gets no greeting, but he's not expecting one. Danny looks over his shoulder to ensure the bathroom door is connected to the master room- his bedroom, where Alvin will be staying, seeing as it has a bigger fireplace. He needs to have them install a heating system. Danny never bothered, what with his ice core and all- before he spoke.

"Hey, Red Hood, it's Danny. I'm calling in that favor."

There is a long pause before the other man grunts. "What is it?"

"My friend is a pro whose pimp or johns have been abusing lately. Can you help me....take care of the issue? I don't want to overstep in his life, but I'm pretty sure they broke his check bone tonight, and he claimed to have had worse before." Danny sighs, his stomach overturning at what that could mean. He hasn't gone out as Ghost King to show those assholes a thing or two because this isn't his haunt.

It's Red Hood's.

Danny had met the other man when a rouge attack had busted up all the main highways he usually worked in and had no choice but to try to sell in Crime Alley. He was right off the territory's edge, freaking out about entering without the main ghost's permission, until Red Hood confronted him.

Danny's frantic fretting had been suspicious enough that the main honcho had gone to find out why he was so nervous.

They worked a deal where Danny would sell his ware in peace, and as long as he let kids eat for free, Red Hood had no quarrels with him. He even got a favor from the crime lord after Danny provided free meals to some of his men's families struggling to get food a few months back.

He also allowed Hood to use his house as a safe house to hide a few people who needed to be out of the city. Is he part of Red Hood's gang? No.

Is he an alley? Yes.

Danny had been saving the favor for such an occasion.

There is silence on Hood's side, so Danny goes in for the kill. "My friend is seventeen; in a few months, he'll be eighteen, but he said he has been doing this since he was younger."

The silence is now laced with malice. If there was one thing they both agreed on it was that kids were never meant to be hurt by the scum of the city. "Give me his name and the area he usually works in."

"Alvin Draper. He changes per night, but I've often seen him on the east side of Crime Alley."

"I'll look into it. Is Alvin safe?"

"Yeah, he's going to be staying with me tonight. Don't come by until I convince him to extend his stay." Danny knows Hood will understand. This is one of many pros to see the Zone- his mansion's name- as a sanctuary.

"That's fine. Can you get me a picture of Alvin?"

"No, he's too skimmish."

Hood grunts again, his voice coming out tired despite the voice monitor. "Kids always are. I'll have my boys find Alvin's primp and johns. Ensure there aren't any other younglings before they make them swim with the fish."

Danny almost falls over in relief. "Thank you. Alvin...Alvin means a lot to me."

" Don't mention it. Stay well, Victorian."

Victorian is the code name Hood has given him to ensure Danny isn't tired of his gang. Yes, it's because his house is a Victorian mansion, but Danny also likes to think it's cause the other man appreciates the aesthetics of his house a little too much.

He once caught Hood admiring his Pride and Prejudice hardcover book displayed in his green sitting room.

"You too Hood. And thank you."

How would he convince Alvin that his house was a better place to call home than the orphanage and street corners without coming off as a wannabe savior or hopelessly in love creep?

Danny pauses at his own train of thought.

Hopelessly in love? He thinks in shock as the bathroom door swings open, and out comes Alvin, dressed in Danny's extra pajama set. He offers Danny a shy smile; even with the injuries, it is the loveliest sight he's ever seen, and- oh no, Danny is in love with him.

"You up for a late-night snack?" He asks, trying to not show the world-shattering realization on his face, and Alvin's smile grows wider.

"You're going to make me fat." The other laughs. Danny's heart skips a beat.

Danny Fenton loves Alvin Draper and will do everything he can to protect him. Even if Alvin will hate him for it.

[wittlesissyb4by]

Why do we keep letting these pigs get off scott-free? They think they can come in, play with our hearts and our heads, then cut and run and do the same to some other poor girl! Hell, sometimes they’re doing it to multiple women at the same time!

Well, I say “no more”! No longer will we let these immature men run around and take advantage of women! It’s time we take a stand! Starting with little Benjamin here.

Benny tried to slip a little something in my drink at the club last week and thought I wouldn’t notice. Little did he know, I’d already been watching him, planning a little bit of payback after what he did to my friend Lauren. She cried for weeks over this guy.

So when Benny wasn’t looking, I did the ‘ole switcheroo, he was out like a light 2 hours later.

Ohh you should have seen Benny’s face when he woke up for the first time! His hands and feet were chained to his new crib, and he kicked his little legs when he saw (or felt) what he had on. Every flail of his body only made his fresh new diaper crinkle louder and louder. He whined and cried and screamed as much as his gag would allow. But Benny had no idea that was just the beginning.

He thought, he really thought he wasn’t going to have to use his diaper, that it was just there for funsies. The way he moaned and groaned as he clenched and tucked his legs, trying anything he could to quell the painful throbbing coming from his very full bladder. I told him to save himself the torment, that all he was doing was delaying the inevitable, but still he resisted. To his credit, he made it a whole ‘nother thirty minutes before he sighed in relief and flooded his diaper for the very first time. His whimpers and whines after were pathetically adorable.

He drank the bottle out of desperation. He was obviously starving, and I made it clear he would not get out of his (now *very* wet) diaper until he finished the whole thing. I wonder if he could taste the laxatives and hormones mixed within? No matter, he certainly seemed to notice the effects about an hour later when he started fussing and complaining about the cramps.

“Just get over it,” I spat back at him, something I’ve heard way too many men say when they learn a woman is on her period, “just don’t be such a bitch!”

When I tell you: the man cried. Like, full-on bawled like a baybee when he couldn’t hold it anymore and started shitting all over himself in that diaper. He continued to cry for the next 3 hours when I refused to change him. I made him sit and wallow in his own filth while he thought about his life choices.

Reluctantly, his diaper was eventually changed, but so was his outfit. His eyes were wide as saucers when i held up the pink onesie and frilly skirt, but they closed soon after once the drugs kicked in. He woke up halfway through me doing his make-up, and seemed less than thrilled when the wig was put on.

Now, one week later, he’s mostly silent in his crib. I’m not sure if it’s the cocktail of hormones in his system messing with his brain, or he has finally accepted that this isn’t all a dream, that this isn’t going to stop, and this is his new life now. Any attempts to run will just lead to the thousands of pictures I have of him ending up all across the internet. The livestreams of him pooping his pampers notwithstanding. He’s quite docile now. He knows to keep that pacifier in his mouth otherwise it will delay his diaper change by several hours. It only took him a few rashes to learn to comply.

Lauren is now on her way over to get a look at the so-called “Man” that broke her heart. I highly doubt she’ll feel any sort of anguish now. Knowing her, she’ll have even more fun with him than I have.

So this is a call to all women, it is high time we put these deadbeat little fuck bois in their place. Take back what is ours. Let’s fight the patriarchy and turn it into a true Matriarchy, one pathetic little pervert at a time!

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Two ships (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Two people who do not understand each other, but keep coming back together. Familiar much? It’s the tale you share with your brother, Daemon.

Warnings: Crybaby! Reader. Medieval punishment for children. Canon character death (Alyssa and Baelor) Sexual thoughts. Prostitution. Mature language. Incest. Fluff.

A/N: In which we explore the complicated dynamics of the sister wife. Requested. We also suscribe to @just-some-random-blogger doctrine about Daemon being a scary unhinged man but soft for the reader.

THE FIRST TIME your brother makes you cry is when you are eight years old. It is, of course, not the first time you tear up because of him. But there is a difference between tearing up because he tugged too hard on your braid, or because he cut your favorite doll’s hair and what he did to you that day.

You shall never forget the reason for your mother’s death, not for the rest of your life. It’s one of those core memories, a truth of the universe. You cannot forget fire burns, you cannot forget water is wet, and you cannot forget your mother is dead because of you. Even if you do not know when you learned those facts, they are still there. Tucked into your mind.

As a child, you used to be quiet. You barely cried, or demanded things of anyone. As the youngest and only girl of the household, you often felt like there was an unbreachable gap between you and your family. And so, you filled your days with your lessons, and behaved well, eager for praise and attention.

Your relationship with your brothers was complicated. Your father was often far away, busy with his important position, so Viserys felt more like a parent than a sibling. The age difference didn’t help things along. While you were still learning how to walk, his betrothal was already negotiated.

Daemon, while much closer in age, is much more distant too. He is mercurial, playing the cruelest tricks on you, but also defending you from other children. Just last week, he had dyed your beloved white dog green, but he had also punched a steward’s son for mocking your braids.

He can never decide if he hates you or loves you. And today, it’s one of the days he hates you. You can’t do anything right, it seems. As you break your fast, with Viserys cutting up your food for you, he calls you a baby. When the Septa comes to get you for your lessons, you are a suck-up. His bad mood escalates during the day, and when your father arrives for lunch and dares ruffle your hair, Daemon doesn't hesitate to call you a cocksucker whore.

For his offense, his mouth is washed with soap. It is not a punishment you have ever endured, because everyone knows ladies don’t get physical punishments, but it looks unpleasant. Whatever cocksucker whore means mustn't be very nice.

By the time his punishment is over, your father is long gone again. He has disappeared into his chambers, and Viserys has been left with the bitter task of reconciling you.

“You will apologize to our sister.” He orders Daemon. “Now.”

“NO!” Daemon shrieks, face blotchy from the humiliation of his mouth being washed with soap. He has not shed a single tear, which you find admirable despite yourself. The taste alone would make you gag, and that is without including the humiliation of a servant holding you while Viserys does the deed.

You feel awkward at the thought. Something doesn’t sit right with the thought of such a thing being a punishment, but you do not dare voice it. You simply sit in the chair Viserys has pulled for you and kick your feet. It soothes you slightly.

“Take it back, Daemon or so help me the Seven…”

“I will not take it back!” Daemon screams, pushing at Viserys. “She is a little whore! She has you all wrapped around her little finger, and now you will send me away…”

“Daemon.” Viserys grabs his wrists, in warning. With several years and a growth spurt on his side, he manages to subdue him easily. You worry that will not be the case for much longer. Daemon looks very different from your peaceful Viserys, shoulders broader, hands a bit bigger. In a few years, he will become a fearsome warrior, and Viserys will still be your bookish older brother.

“Why do I have to go squire for some stupid lord, anyway? We are the blood of the dragon! We do not need those fools.” At this new information, you frown. You clutch your doll more tightly. No one had informed you Daemon had to go squire away from Viserys and you.

“Fostering is important. It helps us form bonds with other houses.” Viserys explains, with the patience of someone who has had this argument already. You tug on your doll, feeling sadder by the minute. Everyone knew but you?

“Why don’t we send her away?” Daemon points at you, and a sudden wave of fear hits you. Viserys can’t agree with him. You cannot leave. Your panic almost makes you miss his next words. “She is the reason mother is dead. I hate her.”

And the world stops for a second. The argument goes on, Viserys screaming at Daemon, but you are still stuck there. Your ears begin to ring, so you press your hands tightly to them and shake your head.

By the Seven, Daemon is right, you realize with growing horror. Your father and Septa always told you your mother had died the way you were born, from the difficult birth. Tears begin to fall down your face, but you barely notice them. It feels like you are choking.

In your childish mind, the death of your mother in childbirth, and your birth had never been connected. You never thought it had been your fault. But Daemon was right. She was dead because she had birthed you. It was your birth that killed her.

Her death was your fault. You killed her.

No. No. It can’t be right.

“That is not true.” You turn to Viserys, uncaring they have long since moved on with the argument. He has always protected you and reassured you. Even takes care to get rid of the monsters beneath your bed every night. He will fix it. “Brother, he is lying again!”

Viserys makes a strange face. A cross between a grimace and a frown. He doesn’t refute it, nor tries to comfort you.

“It’s the truth.” Daemon smiles, with the smugness of someone who has delivered a killing blow. He advances, his eleven-year-old body seeming larger than life to you, and pokes a finger in your sternum. “You killed her.”

It feels like a rug has been pulled from under your feet. You stumble back. It’s all your fault. Your mother is dead, and your father is never home, haunted by the memory of his wife, because of you. Daemon and Viserys lost their mother, because of you.

You killed her. You killed her. You killed her. The world looks the same around you, despite the revelation, and you wonder if it is so because everyone knew but you. Is it why Daemon doesn’t love you? Why father is never around?

A sob makes its way out of your throat, and then another. And another. Soon, you are bawling like a dying animal, and feel like it too. You cry so much, your little heart feels like it will jump out of your chest and you will die. You cannot breathe, choking in your own snot and tears, and panic makes you nauseous.

Never in your life had you ever cried so. A nervous fit, the Maester will call it later, after you puke your lunch and stop making heaving noises like you are lacking air. One caused by extreme distress. Daemon will be standing guard at the foot of your bed when you come to be again. They had ended up having to give you three drops of Milk of the Poppy to calm you down.

It doesn’t happen again, and you barely remember it when you grow up. But Daemon never forgets it.

CRYING IS A weakness that cannot be tolerated. The three of you had been born dragons, but sometimes Daemon doubted Viserys and you had as much fire in your veins as he did.

Said doubt intensifies when he finds you crying in the gardens. Daemon has never been fond of crying women. He is not an empathetic man, and has a tendency to think he is surrounded by fools. Such a character trait doesn’t lend itself to soothing crying maidens. At least, not sincerely.

If he wants to bed the chit, Daemon can pretend like the best mummer. It’s not hard at all to fool highborn maidens into thinking he shares something special with them, convincing them that the pain won’t last, that it will start to feel good soon. When it comes to you, though, the problems start.

You are not a common whore, like most women at court. As a daughter of House Targaryen, you are closer to a goddess than a woman. Fooling a goddess is no easy task, much less when the goddess knows you so well.

His usual tricks do not work. When Daemon tries to apply faux pity, and forced pleasantries, you see right through him. It’s not because you are particularly cunning, but rather the fact that you have a long memory.

Long enough to remember all the pranks and fun he had had at your expense when the two of you were children. With how much Daemon tortured you, it’s no wonder you prefer Viserys.

Daemon never meant to be as nasty to you as he had been. He coveted the attention Viserys paid you, as the youngest in the family. He disliked how everyone fawned over you, how his mother had died, and his father had left, and all they had gotten in exchange was you.

Another part of Daemon simply enjoyed mischief. Causing chaos for chaos’s sake. Like any young boy, he had fun playing tricks on others. The disdain he felt for you had made you into the ideal target.

When the years began to pass, Daemon had noticed you were flourishing into a beautiful maiden. Targaryen custom dictated you were meant to be his, since you were too young to be Viserys’. There was no point in fixing your relationship, or trying to win you over like he did with the other maidens. You were a given thing. No matter your shared past, you would have to marry him.

It’s only the fact that you are embarrassing the family name that prompts him to approach you in the gardens. He has no intention of comforting you. It’s not like he cares that you are crying. Really. How ridiculous.

“What happened to you?” Daemon asks, sitting next to you. “Princess shouldn’t cry.”

It is quite recent, of course. Viserys' ascension to the throne has not actually yet occurred, but the succession issue has been settled in their favor. Daemon had gathered a small force of loyal men that hadn’t been necessary in the end, but Viserys said his first act as King would be rewarding him from his loyalty.

He knows what he will ask for already. Marriage. His grandmother had tried to marry him to a Vale woman, but the idea had ended up being discarded because Viserys’ own match ensured the allegiance of that kingdom. Daemon wanted to have his Valyrian bride before anyone, especially the Hightower cunt, got any ideas.

“Nothing.” You wipe your tears away, angrily. You scoot your cute little rear towards the edge of the tree you are sitting under. As far as you can go without losing the spot of shade.

Daemon sighs. He is used to you being difficult, but it would soon change. You would be informed of your duty and behave in a manner befitting your position in life soon enough.

“Do I need to protect your honor?” The very thought unsettles him. Three years his younger, you are still barely a maiden in his eyes. A pure, unspoiled being. The idea of someone else corrupting your innocence, something that is meant to be his, is infuriating. Daemon hates when other people touch what is his.

If anyone will corrupt you, it’s him.

You laugh, bitterly.

“If only!”

“What do you mean?” Your statement has clarified nothing. He feels more confused than before. Perhaps, you have a secret lover who refuses to take your maidenhead? Or are you suffering from unrequited love? But when? With whom? You spend nearly all your time in the library, pouring over dusty books, or on dragonback. Not much time for entertaining suitors.

You stay quiet. There is a strange expression on your face, a mix of embarrassment and sadness.

“Hāedus.” Daemon prompts, gently tugging on your braid.

“Some ladies Aemma brought were talking about knights, and kissing…” You get a fit of hiccups and nearly choke, so Daemon is forced to wipe the snot from your nose so you don’t suffocate to death. Let it not be said he is a bad brother. “They laughed at me!”

“They laughed at you?” How dare them. Only Daemon was allowed the honor of your tears. You were too important.

“No one asked to dance with me at the feast! And no knight has ever kissed me.” You pout, about to go into hysterics again. “Ever.”

“Doña hāedus…” Daemon wipes your tears, fighting his smile. He has an inkling you wouldn’t think it funny. “You shouldn’t listen to them. You are a Princess, the blood of the dragon. They are just sheep.”

You pout more. Daemon hurries to comfort you. Oddly, he dislikes seeing tears on your face. It must be because you are in public. As a Princess and his future wife, your actions reflect on House Targaryen.

“Ugly sheep. In fact, the actual sheep in the Vale are prettier.”

“But knights have kissed them! And they get asked to dance, and to walk in the gardens, and…”

Daemon raises his hand.

“Knights would kiss you too if they could. But you are too superior to them. They wouldn’t dare.” Or they would meet Dark Sister. All your first should be his. “It’s excellent that you have not sullied yourself with just any knight who looks at you.”

“But I am getting old.”

You are about to cry again. Your female vanity must be hurt, thinking yourself unwanted. Daemon will never understand caring about what others think of him. Dragons shouldn’t concern themselves with the opinion of the sheep.

But there is something about you, the soft little Princess who crumbles up completely when someone is mean to her, that tugs at his heartstrings.

It is why he leans in and captures your mouth with his. You taste like innocence and salt, melting on his tongue. It’s not Daemon’s first kiss, but it feels like it. There is a tug deep inside of him, a strange yearning on his chest, that has not been present when he has kissed other women. Not even maidens.

Cloyingly sweet, dripping on his tongue like the most enticing potion. His. Never has he experienced this before. Daemon wants to drown on it, drown in you. But before he has a chance, you give him a shove and run as fast as you can.

And he stands there, as if struck by lighting, pinned down by the unmeasurable realization that this is love. Love, in its purest form, for his soon-to-be sister wife. It leaves him dazed, confused, rooted to the spot. Utterly out of control.

“DID YOU HEAR?” The serving girl whispers loudly, her voice carrying through the corridor. Night has fallen already, and you pour over a heavy tome on constellations while sitting in one of the windowsills of the Red Keep. It is the best time to put your new knowledge into practice, but the constant chattering of the maids interrupts you.

You close your book, hesitating between scolding them and sending them away, or waiting for them to leave on their own. Scolding them feels unkind. It’s late enough for them to no longer be on duty, and there is no harm in what they are doing. This corridor is a heavily transited one.

Perhaps you should move to your rooms. But you do not have a balcony, and the view from your windowsill it’s quite limited. As you ponder on it, something they say catches your attention.

“And they say the Prince asked for a blonde girl. A maiden.” The Prince. Daemon! You have not seen hide nor hair of your older brother since he stole your first kiss. In fact, you have been avoiding him.

As children, he had played plenty of nasty tricks on you. Once, in a fit of temper, he had beheaded all your dolls and hanged their little heads from a window. But adulthood had mellowed him out. Or so you thought.

The worst thing wasn’t that Daemon stole your first kiss. It was that you enjoyed it.

“No!” The other girl sounds scandalized.

“Yes. And that is not all. He took her roughly, and was kicked out before even…”

Took a whore roughly? You knew he whored around, but hurting whores was a new low. You weren’t too approving of his behavior, but whoring was normal for young lords. Everyone knew they did it, even the most pious ones. Hurting them, though? It was no better than being a rapist.

The other girl lets out a gasp, but she sounds more delighted by the gossip than anything else.

“Imagine how rough it had to be for them to kick him out.”

“I would say plenty. Poor girl.”

“He is out again, is he not?”

“Every night, like clockwork. Something has roused his appetite, it seems. He used to whore, but not…”

Their scandalized voices drift down the corridor, and you think the rumor must be wrong. Daemon wouldn’t hurt anyone. Sure, he whored around, and took plenty of maidenheads, but your brother wasn’t cruel.

Was he?

He had stolen your first kiss. Beyond the softness and the sweetness of the kiss, Daemon had ruined a moment that was meant to be special. Now, it was forever tainted with the memory of being made a mockery of. Not only by those girls, but him too.

There was a difference between stealing a kiss and hurting whores, though. Much more, when it came to hurting them seriously enough to be kicked out of the pleasure house.

Was it your fault? Had he discovered with you he enjoyed taking from women by force? Was he taking out his anger with you on them? The maid had said the girl was blonde. Perhaps Valyrian blonde.

You needed to know. You ran to your rooms and got your black cloak, set on finding him.

Finding Daemon was no easy task. You made it to the city on foot, but once there, you had trouble locating the pleasure houses. There was no sign outwardly pointing to them, but you managed to get to Flea Bottom without getting mugged. Or at least, this looked like what you thought Flea Bottom looked like.

The streets were dirtier, the crowd rougher and drunker. There were people sleeping on the floor, no Sept in sight. This was a place far away from the Gods. The few Goldcloaks patrolling seemed uninterested in actually preventing crime.

You made sure to walk with purpose, afraid of being stopped if you looked like you were out of place. The streets were badly lit, and you could barely tell apart one alley from another.

A sudden tune caught your attention. A woman was singing in a tongue you didn’t recognize. You decided to follow her voice, but before you could do so, someone blocked your path.

“… A dragon for half an hour.” It was a woman. Her hair was dark and hanging limp around her face. She swayed as she walked. “My prince, I will let you choke me.”

You made a face, realizing a strand of your silver hair was peeking on the edge of your hood. She thought you were Daemon, you realized. Both your brother and you kept your hair long, and in the darkness of the alley, with your hood up, you may have looked alike. Was she a whore?

“I’ll let you. A dragon, please, I need to feed my children.”

Children. She had babes. You imagined them, tucked in their beds, wondering where their mother had gone. What if something happened to her? If the children had a present father, he would provide for them, and she wouldn’t be here. It was how the world worked. She must be alone with the babes.

You reached inside your cloak, and pulled out a gold dragon. There was an odd sort of pity building inside you. You imagined yourself, offering up your body to strangers to feed your children, and your heart shattered into little pieces.

You had never questioned the role of whores. They were sullied women, but they served a purpose. Entertain the men so they didn’t hurt others. Tend to their baser needs. It didn’t feel so clear-cut as you avoided the woman, in fear she might attempt to service you.

The voice sounded louder, so you ducked into the next alleyway. It was then you saw them.

The woman singing was sitting at the entrance of a small house. She was scantily clad, as were the surrounding women. But there was only one of them who caught your attention.

She was tall and willowy, with long limbs. There was a haunting elegance to her that looked out of place in the Street of Silk. Her blonde hair was long, and in the right light, could be mistaken for silver. It cascaded down her shoulders. Her face was eerily similar to your own. She was tragically beautiful, stricken by some unseen grief.

Sitting down and clapping along to the song, she looked as if she was praying. There was a dark stain on her neck, cleverly hidden by her hair. The closer you looked, the more it seemed like a bite mark. Not just any bite. A vicious one.

You gasped, hands coming to your mouth to muffle the sound. Whores had never been of concern to you, but now you were seeing their reality, and it was heartbreaking. The thought of women in brothels, in cages, as pleasure slaves, made you want to weep.

Women like you. That she wore your face was even more jarring.

WHEN CARAXES HAD been born, he had not done so alone. Out of the ether, his sister had come, hands linked with his. Meraxes, goddess of the sky, an eternity doomed to hold to her sibling. Caraxes only reflected his twin’s colors, gazing up at her as the flowers did the sun.

It was said that they met only once a day, thanks to the mercy of Gaelithox, who allowed the twins to embrace every sunset. It was the reason Meraxes hated him. He held on to her too strong, and prevented her from embracing the one who she truly loved. He invaded even her reflection, seeking to make himself a part of her, even invading her sacred reflection in the waters of her twin.

The story was always one of your favorites. You begged Viserys every night to tell it to you, sickening Daemon with your romantic tales. He isn’t sure why he is reminded of it today, of all days.

Foreboding, he will think later, when the storm has passed. But now, he chooses to focus on the coronation taking place in front of him, and bask in their triumph.

“Kings reward loyalty.” Viserys says, after the crown is placed on his head by a proud Aemma. “And my first act will be rewarding those that stood by my side.”

Daemon and you are kneeling, the first among the crowd. The first to take a knee to their King. There is a strange feeling in his throat, and he fights the urge to cry. Daemon has always considered tears a weakness, but the moment is so perfect, so magical, he feels the urge to do so.

Men don’t cry. Instead, they take big breaths, and savor their victory. Viserys on the Iron Throne, and Daemon about to be given your hand. All they have ever wanted, now ripe for the taking.

“Brother, please rise.” Viserys' voice is clear and loud. Daemon does so, pleased by the honor of being the first to rise in front of the masses. They had talked about it, of putting up a show for their political enemies, but Daemon had never expected Viserys to grant him honors before any other of his advisors. “Your diplomatic and martial skills were essential to securing my claim. As a reward, I give to you our sister’s hand, and name you my heir. May the two of you have a fruitful union and make House Targaryen proud.”

And when he turns to you, with a smile on his face, he realizes why he remembered the story of Caraxes and Meraxes.

Your beautiful, purple eyes, are wet with tears. You remain on bent knee, frozen.

Daemon pulls you up with the utmost tenderness, one reserved for family alone. The hand on your elbow seems to shake you out of your stupor.

“Thank you, my King.” Your voice trembles, but you speak the words dutifully. You know as well as him that this is Viserys’ day. Everything has to go perfectly. There can’t be any hint of division between the three of you, not when the rallying cry for Viserys had been that he was bringing back the three heads of the dragon.

Three siblings. Three dragonriders. Aegon, Visenya, Rhaenys.

“It is a great honor.” Daemon adds, tightening his grip on your arm. You look ready to bolt, and he is tasked with reminding you that you can’t.

A silent tear travels down your cheek. With your back to the crowd, no one but Viserys and Daemon can see it. Viserys gives him a long look, pleading him to do something. Neither of them had been expecting your reaction.

They had thought you would settle well into your duty. That marriage would give you a stable tether, a shield for your fragile soul. Viserys had chosen Daemon for the honor, had given you to him to care and protect.

But you seem even more scared that you were before. How wrong had they been.

“We are very excited.” Daemon hugs you to him, fighting to keep his composure. Your rejection stings, and he wants to rage, but he can’t. Because you are in public, and House Targaryen doesn’t air their dirty laundry in front of witnesses, but more importantly because your dam is breaking. You let out a little sob, and Daemon has to embrace you fully to prevent you from falling apart.

Fools that they are, the rest of the courtiers mistake it for a sound of joy. What else could you want? To marry the King’s heir, a Valyrian husband who can give you pure Valyrian babes.

“Good.” Viserys smiles, a bit strained. You take a shuddery breath, and straighten up under his arm. Daemon can practically feel the change, from scared girl, to experienced courtier. You know as well as he does the importance of presenting a united front.

You smile. It’s as fake as the silks whores wear, when pretending to be a Targaryen Princess. To the inexperienced masses, it tears all the same.

“How joyful days come ahead. Long live the King!”

You open your arms, the picture of the hopeful bride. The smile threatens to crack your face in two. The crowd cheers. A royal wedding is always something to admire, and there is no better way of celebrating a coronation than with one.

The hour is late when Daemon finally manages to catch Viserys alone. You have gone straight to your rooms after the feast, sulking. Aemma has been sat outside your door for hours by now, trying to coax you out like one would do to a skittish cat. Her talks of duty and royal wombs only got her a pillow to the face for her efforts.

Daemon and Viserys, much more used to your moods, hadn’t bothered. You were angry, but not hysterical. Both often manifested in tears in your case. Only one could prove lethal.

“I do not understand.” Viserys frowns. “What more can she want? The two of you will get Dragonstone, for a few years at least, and when I have an heir, you will not be kicked out. You are family.”

“I do not understand it either.” Underneath the simmering rage Daemon feels, there is only confusion. He is a knight, and has proven his skills sufficiently enough to be awarded Dark Sister. He is of an equal standing to you, a Prince to a Princess. He loves you so deeply it scares him.

The Seven know he has tried to get you out of his head through every means possible. He has deflowered more maidens that he can count this week alone, his cock is chafed raw, and yet, no matter how beautiful they are, your face still haunts him. It’s your name on his lips when he comes, and your body he pictures under him. The whores are never right. Their hair is the wrong shade, they are too thin or too fat, their tears taste of iron instead of your sweet salt.

You should not think it is a bad thing. Women love that sort of thing, leading men by their cocks, getting them so cuntstruck they cannot see straight. You should love it too because it is a weakness to him, but a power you can wield. And yet, you hate it. You had run.

“I cannot go back on my word now.” Viserys reaches for his cup of wine. He knows that his reign is still fragile, and if his lords see his sister defying him, they might get ideas. “She has to marry someone, and with her delicate constitution, I cannot in good conscience…”

“Handing her to a stranger is a bad idea.” Daemon agrees, not out of some selfish motivation, but because he knows it’s the truth. You have always been far more delicate than most ladies, with your books and silly ideas about the role women should play. Had you not been so closely tied to Viserys, you may have even supported Rhaenys.

If Viserys was Aegon, you were Rhaenys. The sensitive little sister, loved because of her innocence and kindness. You never tried to push your strange ideas, after all. You just looked like a kicked puppy when contradicted.

Any other man would crush you at the first hint of defiance. Daemon, used to you as he was, knew rage was futile. If you wouldn’t settle in your duties easily, he had to take action and ensure you did through other means.

Gentler means. Daemon still remembered the fits you used to have when little. Viserys did too. Neither wanted a repetition.

“I have thought about it, and you should forgo the bedding.”

“I agree. It might make her sick.” Sick is the euphemism they use for your fits when there are prying ears. Daemon gives a pointed glance at the guards. Viserys drops the topic after that.

Almost against his will, when the embers of the fire they sit in front of die, Daemon goes to your rooms. He isn’t really thinking, when he walks down the hallways that lead to your chambers instead of his. Nor is he thinking when he dismisses your guards, and opens your door.

You are laying on your side, a pillow held to your thighs. Your hands are made into fists over them, as if you had fallen asleep in your rage still. Despite it, your face is peaceful, with only dried tear tracks to disturb your childish expression.

Your body is curled into itself, tightly. You must be cold, Daemon thinks, and takes of his cloak to lay it over your form.

In dreams, you smile. And Daemon understands that he is no Gaelithox. There was a reason Caraxes and Meraxes were only allowed to embrace once a day, after all.

HORROR AND RAGE are not emotions that lend itself to permanence. At least, not in you. Not when it comes to him.

Not when he plays such strange game, and gets you strange prizes. Daemon has not asked for his cloak back. You have taken to sleeping wrapped up underneath it.

How can a man capable of such cruelty be capable of such tenderness? Confusion means ignorance, and ignorance breeds fear. You have known Daemon all your life, but you are still unable to understand him.

The only certainty you have is that when he is near, your rationality flies out of the window. It’s all instinctual. To fight, to fuck, to fucking fight.

The sleep of reason produces monsters. Monsters that take hold of your heart and squeeze it, until it is no more than liquid and pulp. Did he hurt that woman? Will he hurt you? Love you?

Daemon had stolen your first kiss. Daemon had gotten kicked out of a brothel. There was a girl in the Street of Silk with a bite mark on her neck. He had visited you the night of your betrothal and tucked you in.

It might mean nothing. It might mean everything. Whichever it is, you have no time to come to terms with it. Viserys wishes for the two of you to be married by the end of this moon. It makes you feel even more blindsided and betrayed.

None of them had thought to ask you before deciding. They had just done so.

The idea of marrying your brother wasn’t what came as a great shock. As a child, you had often daydreamed of honoring your ancestors and becoming your brother’s wife. It was the way things should be. But you had always thought you would marry Viserys.

When Viserys married Aemma, you thought you would marry someone outside your household. Daemon and you were clearly ill-suited, even before everything that had happened between the two of you.

Betrothing the two of you would be madness. You had never understood each other in the manner Viserys and him did. You were an outsider to their relationship, the other head of the dragon. Rhaenys to her conquerors.

But inexplicably, Viserys had done so. Being betrothed to him without even being asked about it stung. No one had thought to warn you, or ask for your opinion. They had simply announced it to court and hoped you would comply.

The feeling of betrayal had only mellowed out after asking Viserys his reasoning. He hadn’t been trying to blindside you, he had explained. He had thought you would be happy. Both Daemon and you yearned for Valyrian partners. It made sense to betroth the two of you, especially because Daemon had asked to marry soon.

Your brothers were just dumb. But their foolishness was a dangerous one, since they rode the two biggest dragons of your generation and sat on the Iron Throne. Common fools could undo the damage they caused.

But in your case, there was no way out but through. Viserys had begged you to give Daemon a chance, and so, you found yourself preparing for meeting him.

Viserys had chosen the place the two of you would meet. The Godswood was neutral territory, and far away from the castle that if you started shouting insults at each other, only the Kingsguard shadowing you would hear.

It only made you dread the encounter further. You had taken a liking to the Godswood, and were contemplating using it as a hideaway for when things at court got to be too much. If this went wrong, it would forever taint the place for you.

You decide to arrive early, to allow yourself some time to compose yourself. Daemon beats you to it, already waiting near a tree when you get there.

“Hāedus,” Daemon says, when he sees you. In a show of rebellion, you have decided to wear your more modest gown, with a neckline that nearly reaches your ears. Aemma had encouraged you to wear something more revealing, but you wanted to strangle the cow. “You look lovely.”

“Lēkia.” You press a kiss to his cheek, unsure if you should greet him like you always do, or the betrothal has changed the protocol. Kissing his cheek as you always do seems safer, but you regret it when his eyes flutter closed at your touch.

He is acting odder than usual. In an increasingly out-of-character charm offensive, he takes off his cloak and places it on the grass.

“So you may sit.” His tone is too formal. It makes you even more wary, but you sit. Daemon does the same, by your side. So close, you end up frowning more.

He leans in. His lips brush the shell of your ear.

“Despite my struggles, I have come to admire you.” Daemon noses along the hair right above your ear. “Rationality has left me, and no matter how hard I try, you haunt me at every corner, every hallway, every street of this damned city.”

“What am I supposed to say?” You complain, with a frown. You push him a little, to be able to meet his eyes.“I am well aware of your attempts at forgetting. Valyrian whores, Daemon? Really?”

“It was all in vain.” He pulls you back in, embracing you. His hands are warm around your stomach, his lips chafed against the skin of your neck. “Let me take down your hair.”

Your eyebrows raise. Out of all things he can ask for, this is the weirdest one. His petition is so simple and innocent, you almost think he is not Daemon.

“Let me take down your hair.” Daemon begs. The ardent tone in his voices surprises you. He sounds like a man possessed. As if he cannot survive if you deny him. “Hāedus...”

This devotion, this unexpected fit of love, surprises you. So much, you find yourself nodding.

You feel his chest contract with his sudden inhale. His hands are careful as they unmake your braid. His touch so tender, even the most delicate hairdresser would envy it. But when your hair falls down your back, in mussed tendrils, he shows himself to be Daemon.

His nose presses to your temple, breathing you in. His fingers run through your hair, and he presses feverish kisses to your scalp, your jaw, your ear. Licks the sweat behind it, samples your earlobe with his teeth.

Teeth. It makes you tense. You think of the girl in Flea Bottom, of the bite over her throat.

“I can’t stop thinking of you. You appear before me in the darkest corners, and in the brightest meadows.” Daemon inhales, hands grasping your waist tightly. “When I squired, away from home, I couldn’t get you out of my head. I didn’t know it was love then, but I have loved you since before I knew what the word meant. I fucked the tightest cunts of Westeros, sampled the prettiest maidens, and yet it is your face that I imagine when tugging at my cock.”

Something inside you snaps. Among the righteous indignation, a strange satisfaction takes place. You shove him off you.

“Don’t be crass!”

Daemon doesn’t attempt to embrace you again, but remains unbearably close. Your eyes drift to his lips. You would love him even if he were the one who mauled the whore. You would love him even if he did it to you. Because of it, perhaps.

“I want you to be mine. Put me out of my misery.” Daemon begs, tucking your hair behind your ears. “Marry me, and end my suffering.”

“You frighten me.” You whisper, without quite meaning to.

“Do you fear I will hurt you?” Daemon asks you, voice very gentle.

You avert your eyes. It’s not that what you fear. It’s how out of control you are when it comes to him.

“I would never.” He vows, leaning in. His lips brush against yours, before Daemon presses his forehead to yours. He looks into your eyes, and smiles. “Do you remember the last time we kissed?”

“Of course I do, you idiot.” You scowl at the memory. “You stole…”

“No. You were crying because no knight…” He gets up, and begins to tug you to your feet. You remain sitting. “Oh, get up, you stubborn thing.”

“Daemon!” You complain, but get up. He stands a few feet away from you. Curious about the point he intends to make, you cross your arms over your chest and glare.

He offers you his hand, as if to dance. You take it, eyes full of distrust.

“I have been a cunt. But you have to stop running.” Daemon circles you, pulling on your hand slightly. Is he…? Your confusion must show on your face because he gives you a mocking glance. “To dance from afar is not to dance.”

“What do you mean?”

“You might as well be in Essos.” Daemon keeps circling you. “Let us dance properly, for once.”

“Here? Dance?” There is no music. And your brother has never been one for bursting into spontaneous song and dance. At least, you don’t think so.

“Together. You wanted knights to ask you to.” Daemon pulls you close, into a hug, and the puzzle pieces finally fit. The day he had kissed you, you had been crying because no one had asked you to dance. That Daemon remembers the reason when you had nearly forgotten it yourself astonishes you. “Now a Prince asks you. Do not make me ask twice, please.”

“Let us try. To dance as if glued by fire. Let me prove I can be good to you. That I listen to you. ”

And it’s stupid. It’s silly, there is not even music. But you let him pull you in, this time, and realize Daemon has always been capable of tenderness. At least, when it comes to you.

[stayinlimbo]

We Become We

pairing: husband!lee minho x reader genre/warnings: friends to lovers, marriage of convenience, fluff, poor attempts at me trying to be funny, mc's gender is not specified word count: 1.02k note:  i am not dead yay. i tried my best since i haven't had time to write for almost a month so please take this as a peace offering ♡

Marriage. It’s an interesting concept, isn’t it? 

You’ve always thought so, at least. Two people agreeing to sign a legal document and tethering their lives to each other for whatever reason, be it love, societal expectations, familial pressure, financial security, etc. 

Yours happens to be a man named Lee Minho. The same man you’ve been friends with for as long as you can remember. The same man who asked you to marry him for a reason you didn’t get to learn until he was already down on one knee. 

(“I’m sorry, you want me to WHAT?” “Marry me. Please, I need health insurance.”

“Okay, yes, sure, whatever; now please get off the floor. People are staring.”)

Lee Minho, who, after dragging you to the courthouse and legally becoming your husband, finally elaborated on how his job would pay him more and cover both of your health insurances if he was married. So really, in his words, he was “doing you a huge favor” by marrying you. 

And, in all honesty, he really was. No, you didn’t have a ring to show off your new husband’s weird skill at finding loopholes in company policy, and you’re like thirty-five percent sure the two of you are committing some kind of marriage fraud, but does it really matter when you can finally start using the hot water in your dingy apartment without worrying if you’ll have enough money to fund your crippling caffeine addiction? The government will have to drag you kicking and screaming before you resort back to mankind’s cruelest form of torture: cold showers. 

Not to mention that marriage didn’t even change your relationship with Minho. And why would it? You’re still you, and he’s still him. He gets on your nerves just the same, maybe even a little bit more after he decided to frame your marriage certificate in his living room and send a photo to all your mutual friends. You’ll never forgive Minho for laughing at your helplessly panicked state when the group chat wouldn’t stop exploding with messages and incessant calls. 

You’re still his best friend that resides in his apartment four out of seven days of the week while he inhabits yours for the other three. Maybe that’s why, two weeks after your “wedding,” when it was time to renew your lease, Minho suggested with a simple shrug of his shoulders that you move in with him since “you’re here all the time anyway.” 

You’ve really got to learn how to say no to him because now you wake up next to your best friend/roommate/husband in his one bedroom, one bathroom apartment at the crack of dawn with a light pressure on your chest and fur in your face when his cats decide you need to wake up right now to feed them. 

Not to say you don’t like the new arrangement! No, that would be the furthest from the truth. 

Sure, you didn’t appreciate your skin care routine being interrupted by the unexpectedly high-pitched scream Minho let out when he saw you in a face mask for the first time, and what kind of person still has their phone’s brightness turned up all the way before bed? But who else would willingly tolerate your deliriousness before your morning coffee or indulge in your pleas to cook your favorite food three days in a row? 

Living with Minho has only made the purely platonic feelings you harbor for him grow stronger.

That’s what the fluttering in your chest means every time you see him, right? The reason for the smile that grows on your face when you hear the distinct jingling of keys at the front door?

Yeah, that must be why heat spread across your cheeks when he handed you his phone to text one of his friends back, because since when did the heart emoji make an appearance next to your pinned contact name?

You just care about each other, that’s all. It’s normal to want to make sure he arrived at work safely and ask how his day is going during your lunch breaks. It’s normal to start receiving back hugs before bed—a comforting weight as Minho’s chin rests on your shoulder while you apply the rest of the products to your face. 

It’s natural to have doubts about the nature of your relationship during an evening walk, acutely aware of his fingers lightly brushing against yours as you silently study his features illuminated by the soft glow of the scattered streetlights. What if he meets someone else and falls in love with them and wants a divorce and– oh. 

Has he always looked at you like that? With his gaze softening as it locks with yours? With the corners of lips lifting into the gentlest smile you’ve ever seen? With all the stars shining above you finding a second home in his eyes? A look so loving that it takes your breath away and you can’t tell if you’re about to laugh or cry in relief. 

And when you return home to get ready for bed, the familiar feeling of hands wrapping around your waist and a careful pressure resting by the crook of your neck quells the remnants of your worries.

It’s you and Minho. Minho and you, just as it always has been. Just as it’s always meant to be.

The distance between your bodies on the bed becomes nonexistent when you curl yourself into his side, laying your head on his shoulder and intertwining your legs with his as he immediately, unhesitantly, adjusts his arm, his fingertips finding purchase on exposed skin and roaming across the span of your back. A kiss to the top of your head is the last thing you feel before the gentle lull of breathing and the rise and fall of his chest begin to soothe you to sleep. 

…

Ah, marriage—what an interesting concept. Two people agreeing to sign a legal document and tethering their lives to each other for whatever reason, be it love, societal expectations, familial pressure, financial security, etc. 

You love your husband, and you’re beginning to think he loves you too. 

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

taglist: @linospuddin @linocz @spicyhyunn

[jaysgirlx]

❝ 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ❞

❥ pairing: valentines jason todd x f!reader

❥ summary: this is your first valentine's day with jason after well he died and came back, he needs everything to be perfect for you to make for all the lost time.

❥ warnings: bit of angst, mentions of abuse/torture, tons of fluff & smut, unapproving dad Bruce Wayne

❥ wc: 4.3k

"Jason stop it, c'mon Bruce is going to catch us" you squealed, while your boyfriend pressed kisses all over your neck. "I don't want you to get banned from seeing me again, especially with Valentine's upcoming!"

Jason groaned and lifted his head up from your hickey-stained neck. "Even if Bruce does ban me, there's no way in hell I'm missing our first Valentine's," Jason says, laying his head on your chest. The two of you comfortably lay in your bed, cuddling while your parents were asleep a couple doors down.

You'd grown up with Jason, you'd always known him as a troublesome kid but that didn't stop you from developing a crush on the guy. You never thought of saying anything until you learned he'd gotten adopted after his dad kinda just disappeared.

For weeks you'd missed him, you missed how dumb antics, you missed the way he was always following you around and you missed his dumb smile. God, you loved that cheesy grin he always gave you..

Until one day he appeared on your doorstep, telling you that Bruce, his new dad was finally allowing him to visit his old friends. You thought he'd forgotten you but it was far from it and you knew then and there you definitely had a thing for Jason Todd.

It still took a while for either of you to confess your feelings. You thought you would crack first but Jason did instead when he learned that some guy from your school had a crush on you. He didn't mean for it to come out but he was just so jealous, "Why go out with him when you have me huh? I'd make a much better boyfriend. Just go out with me"

He wasn't wrong because he did, a week later you were on the best date of your life. Jason took you to this amazing amusement park that was happening in the middle of Gotham City. The whole night was spent on games and junk food, and Jason Todd got his kiss on the cheek that wasn't from Barbara.

Over time your relationship developed into something more, you couldn't help but spend more and more time with him. He eventually asked you to be his girlfriend and you've been his ever since.

"Well, I don't want to risk it okay? You need to get home before Bruce notices, don't you guys have patrol tonight"

"Okay fine, fine but first, I have something for you princess"

You watch as Jason pulls out what looks to be a ring box. "Woah, wash slow your roll buster, we are only 15 you can't freaking propose!" you whisper scream, praying that your shock wouldn't wake up your parents.

"Princess calm down, it's just a promise ring," Jason said rolling his eyes as if this was normal. "I wanted to give it to you before our date tomorrow, so you'll already be wearing it"

Jason sat up a bit and cleared his throat while he looked at you nervously, "I'm not sure if I've made this clear but…I love you y/n. Like really love you and you're the girl I want to spend the rest of my life with. So I got this promise ring, it's like a sign of me promising myself to you if that makes any sense"

"You love me?"

"Yes, I love you y/n and you don't have to say it back okay? We're young, I have years to come to hear you say it"

You were silent as he slipped the ring on your finger. You could tell from the moment he opened the box it wasn't cheap but you couldn't complain he bought it for you. Because he loved you. And you wanted to say it back but you were scared, scared to fully accept that you loved him.

Jason didn't care if you said it back or not because, in his eyes, you were the only one who accepted him. He looked at you sweetly and gave you a soft smile before getting out of your bed and heading towards your window. Now was the time to say it, to tell him you loved him but you just couldn't m

"I'll see you tomorrow okay sweetheart? I'll pick you up at 7" He says climbing out the window with one of his cheesy grins.

At the age of 15, you'd never be happier to be young and stupidly in love with Jason Todd. Ever since he moved in with Bruce, the two of you didn't get to see each other a lot, and that caused tension between him and Bruce. Jason believed he deserved a later curfew so he could visit you but Bruce was against it, he didn't think it was safe.

Tonight Jason snuck out to see you, the two of you had Valentine's Day plans and wanted to confirm them and we'll spend time with you. You were his world, you were one of the biggest reasons he became Robin. You were the one he wanted to protect no matter what and you knew that.

What you didn't know was this would be the last time you'd ever see Jason at least until you saw his casket. The two of you never celebrated your first Valentine's and you never got to tell Jason how much he meant to you. You never got to tell him how stupid he was for sneaking out, how much you didn't deserve this wrong, and that you did love him back.

7 years later

Everything had to be perfect.

Currently, it was February 14th and Jason had woken up with what was probably the worst news he could've gotten over a phone call.

Dear Mr.Todd, we're sorry to bother you on such a busy day but your reservation at Gotham Restaurant has been canceled due to a surge of higher-paying customers. We can reschedule your reservation for free at any time. We are sorry for this inconvenience.

"You're kidding me right!" Jason yelled, banging his fist against the wall. Out of a day, it had to snow today huh? Your first Valentine's since the two of you got back together. The first Valentine's since he died. Jason had never been able to give you the Valentines you deserved and when the two of you got back together, he immediately started planning.

"No Sir, we are very sorry for this inconvenience and we can try and get you another reservation elsewhere but-"

"Nowhere else is going to have any free spot and even ignoring that my girlfriend wants to go the Gotham Restaurant not anywhere else"

Well, that is what you had told him when he asked what restaurant would you like to go to that you hadn't been to yet. This wasn't how today was supposed to go. Jason had the whole day planned out. What should've been waking up in his followed by breakfast in bed, shopping, lunch, more shopping, dinner at your favorite place, a movie, dessert at your favorite ice cream shop, and ending with hopefully some cuddling if you didn't mind was now all ruined.

Jason had needed today to be perfect especially after you got over the fact that your dead boyfriend was not only alive but also vililangte who was formerly a crime lord. The fact you still wanted to be with him after all this time bewildered him this led him to believe he was probably on thin ice with you so today had to be perfect.

Since it was already Valentine's Day he knew no other restaurant would have any space for a reservation so that meant he'd probably have to cook the two of you dinner. Jason had quite the stocked fridge so he didn't see it as a bad idea but he knew you'd be disappointed for sure.

His entire relationship was riding on today being perfect and it was already failing. While Jason tried to get dressed he quickly noticed that it was already passed 8 o'clock. He was late, He said he'd make you breakfast in bed at 8 which made him late. Could today get any worse?

And it did when you told him you wouldn't eat breakfast with him because your boss really needed you at work for a couple of hours and he had already been on his way to your apartment. "I'll be back early enough for us to go shopping, and go to the restaurant. mkay? I guess we'll have to miss the movie" you said through the phone while simultaneously getting dressed for work. "Can't wait to go the Gotham Restaurant, can't believe you got us a reservation babe."

"Yeah about that…" Jason couldn't do this, he couldn't tell you that actually, you guys weren't getting dinner anywhere and that he was going to cook at home. You sounded so excited and so happy and he didn't want to be the reason that went away. "You'll love it alright. I'll pick you up from work around 6 for your shopping spree and then we'll get dinner"

"Jay I don't need to go shopping, dinner is enough really-"

"I want to take you shopping okay? I have enough saved up to spoil you and that's what I plan to do sweetheart"

Your heart hummed at the word sweetheart. It had been so long since Jason had called you that. It felt surreal because at times he didn't feel like Jason, well not like your Jason. The Jason who kissed you like his life depended on it, the Jason who was obsessed with holding your hand, the Jason who told you he loved you.

When Bruce called you and told you Jason was alive you didn't believe him. Jason was dead, you were at the funeral just like everyone else and knew how he died. A small part of you blame Bruce, this wouldn't have happened to Dick and even if it did he would've found him. Bruce tried telling you a couple more times but you ignored him. Your boyfriend, no your Jason was dead. The next time you hear about it was from Dick because Jason was out for blood. Joker's if we had to be specific.

You didn't want to believe him but Dick had loved Jason like they were biological brothers and you knew he wouldn't lie. He warned you that Jason was different and that I should be wary of him.

You took his advice and made sure not to walk home alone and tried not to go out at night but one day you had a rough day at work and you decided to visit Jason's grave. You left red dahlias on his tombstone and sat down next to it. You started talking to it about how your boss yelled at you and called you incompetent. "You would have called him an asshole for that if you were here," You told him how much you missed him. You knew he was alive but it felt so much easier talking to the tombstone because it felt like he was really there.

You did this consistently for about 2 months, you had caught on that someone was watching you. It was Dick because when you did actually see the figure they were much taller than Dick and they stayed hidden, Dick wouldn't have a reason to do that. It made sense to alert Dick but you didn't because you knew who it was and you weren't ready to face him.

Eventually, you heard from Dick that Jason had changed and that maybe you should talk to him but you still needed time. That didn't stop Jason from approaching you at your apartment. You were startled because your little high school boyfriend was suddenly 6 feet and over 200 pounds. He was practically all muscle and you were kinda scared. That didn't stop you from crying in his arms.

It took a while for the two of you to adjust to being in each other's lives especially when you never stopped having feelings for him. When you admitted that to him, he asked for a second chance. That he'd be yours even if you weren't his. So you let him be yours.

"Okayyy, I'll see you at 6 hun," you said just as you cut off the call.

Jason paces around his bedroom trying to figure out how the hell he was going to get the reservation back.

The two of you arrive at the mall, and you wait while Jason parks his motorcycle. It was shocking how there were barely any cars in the lot. Jason assumed that maybe people were just busy cause of Valentine's. You were so excited to go in that you ran over to the doors to get inside except you couldn't.

Closed for Construction, the sign read.

Jason didn't think today could get worse but it did. "No no no! This wasn't supposed to be Damn it!" He said angrily. He had even called the building, they were supposed to be opened. Construction wasn't for another 2 weeks, it was just his luck that they decided to start early. "Jason it's fine, I told you I don't need to go shopping. It was very thoughtful of you though to want to spoil me but you're already getting me dinner at the best restaurant in the city"

"There is no dinner! Our reservation got fucking and canceled and…Today is ruined y/n. Let me just take you home."

"Jason why didn't you tell me, I can promise you today is not ruined. Jay, are you even listening to me?"

Jason was hardly processing your words though because all he could think was losing you. You would dump him and he would go back to hating himself and his very existence. Would life go back to being a reminder that he died? He was tortured endlessly until he was finally out of his misery. No matter how hard the Joker tried to convince him that you hated him he wouldn't believe him. The part of you wearing his promise ring is what kept him going. What got him through the beating. What made it easier to look at the scars.

What left did he have if he wasn't able to love you. He was yours, he didn't know how to love others and he didn't want to because he would always love you. When he was watching you he realized that even though it had been 7 years you were still the same.

Still had the pretty smile and that contagious laugh, still had a knack for books and enjoyed it. You were still his, at least he believed so. And the one thing you asked him, he couldn't deliver. You messed up your first Valentine's and now he was going to mess up this one too.

"Jay for fucks sake, would you look at me!!"

Jason wasn't sure if it was that cursing that made him snap out of his spiral or maybe it was the fact that you were holding his hands. It had only been 2 weeks since he reintroduced himself into your life, and had been avoiding affection. He knew it was cause he was so big now and you were a bit scared. But right now you weren't. You were holding your hands with his. You were looking at him with what looked like pain and so much regret but you were smiling at him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Just shut up okay? And listen to what I have to say"

After you had finally managed to calm him down you knew you needed to tell d him how you had felt. "When I lost you, I regretted so much Jay but what I regretted most was not telling you that I loved you and it hurt. It hurt knowing Joker had you and that you were in pain but what hurt more was that you were really gone."

You paused and slowed your breath a bit.

"I know it seems like you owe me something like you need to make up for lost time or show me you're worth love but I already know that Jay. I've been yours since we were kids, m'kay? "

"But I do owe you, I owe you the goddamn world if possible"

"For what Jay?"

"Accepting me again I know I'm different than I'm used to be. I'm more shut out and I know I definitely look different. There is so much you accepted just cause I love you"

You groaned annoyingly and raised your hand up and shook it in his face, "Have you even noticed that I'm still wearing this promise ring? The one you gave me?"

Jason had, you wondered why you still wore it. It was so tiny and was probably uncomfortable. It was a tiny gold band, he had paid Selina for that had a diamond on it. To others, it clearly looked like it could be an engagement ring and you still wore it because you still, did being to someone whether was dead or alive. People tried to convince you to move on and take off the ring but you didn't listen.

"You still have it..."

"Mhmm, believe me now?"

"How about we get dinner to go at some random place, come to my place and we'll eat and cuddle while watching some movies"

"You're okay with just that?"

"I'm okay with anything as long as I'm doing it with you Jay, that's the whole point"

Jason smiled and held you in his arms, "can't believe you're still all mine"

"C'mon let's go to the movie theater and see what they've got"

And that's exactly what you did.

The two of you were cozied up on your bed, with a bunch of food. Jason bought himself chili dogs and got you pancakes to make up for breakfast. Who knew pancakes tasted better at night?

Jason also bought 2 tubs of Ice Cream to substitute as dessert. You may not be eating at that fancy restaurant but you were still having the time of your life.

"I swear you hated chili dogs when I was alive?!"

"I always liked them I just never wanted to admit it else that would've been the only food we'd ever eat"

While the TV played in the background you looked over at Jason who looked the happiest he'd been all day. There he was, your Jason. He was there, under all those scars he was still there. Jason noticed you were staring you looked over at you, and leaned in to place a soft kiss on your lips. "I've missed the taste of your lips" he whispered quietly

He kissed you again and this time you wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. "I've missed you, Jay," you said in response. Jason didn't hands on his way to your hips and he pulled you closer, right onto his lap. You still hadn't adjusted to Jason being so big, so when your hands found your way to his muscles you were surprised to feel him groan while you felt him up a bit.

"Sweetheart, if you keep this up I'm going to do something you might regret"

"I didn't regret my first time with you, I'm not going to regret it now babe"

He groaned again this time grinding his hips upwards against yours. Jason swiftly switches your position, putting you underneath him. His kisses quickly became more eager while his hips rutted into you, "Baby, I don't have any-"

"Don't need it, got on the pill a couple years back" you said softly, gripping his shirt. "I promise I want this, so let's get these out for he was please?"

Your pleas were enough for Jason to take off your dress, you'd worn a red satin dress. He'd always liked you in red, especially when it was just for him. Jason had on a tux except he replaced the jacket with his favorite leather one. Regardless, he still looked so good, as he always did.

His leather jacket was already on your bedroom floor, you tried to undress him but he stopped you. "The scars…I don't want to scare you again"

"You won't, I promise. I'll even kiss them, they're a part of you Jay and you're mine" you say tugging on his shirt. With a sigh, he silently takes off his shirt. You raise your hand to touch him but stop and make sure it is okay. He doesn't verbally answer but he gives you a nod. You trace his scars with your finger but one sticks out the most, his neck scar.

You move your face closer to his neck, and kiss his scar, "You're still as beautiful as ever, you're still my Jason" you say while you pull away from his neck. Before you can even read his reaction, Jason kisses you again, rough and with more of a need. Jason had told you he'd met other people but in the end, he could ever think of you. You were the only person who made it just for him.

You'd had your own set of boyfriends which all seemed to end up the same, they'd get too close and you'd dump them. You couldn't imagine loving anybody the way you loved Jason. Jason's body pressed against yours with his hand on your back, pushing you into him. Your hands made your way to his pants, tugging at the waistband. "Patient baby, I'll take em off for you"

The sound of a belt hit your floor but you didn't care, you kept kissing him like your life depended on it. You didn't fully remember when Jason took off your underwear but you remember him, "Jay when did get so..."

"big?" he finished for you with a chuckle, "Yeah, there's a lot you're going to have to get used to with me" His tip pressed at your cunt, earning a disapproving groan for you. You didn't like how slow he was going, you knew he was doing it because he didn't want to hurt you but you weren't 15 anymore you could take it.

You wrap one leg around his waist pushing against his back. Jason liked the way you squirmed underneath him, practically begging for him to fuck you. After a couple minutes, he gave in and sunk his cock right into you. Your nails dug into his back, feeling the stretch of his cock inside you. You felt so embarrared you came on his cock from just him entering"

"Did you just-"

"Shut up please"

Jason looked down at you, his cheeks flushed red, while he was breathing very quickly

"Jay why aren't you moving"

"Can't baby"

"What do you mean you can't?"

"I mean if I move, I'm going to cum on the spot sweetheart so please bare with me" he groaned out, trying to adjust to your warm cunt hugging his cock. Slowly he began to move, using one hand to grip the sheets in hopes he wouldn't blow his load too quickly. His other hand was on his hip, trying to steady your body. Your hands were on his face, caressing his cheeks. Whenever he blushed it was so obvious, you used to tease him all about it even though you loved it.

He down to capture your lips again, allowing your arms to find themselves around his neck. Each thrust was messier than the last, getting rougher after each second. Sex now was so much more different than when the two of you were teens. Jason did things you didn't even know he could do. Once he'd found your g-stop he began to abuse it, earning a chocked moan from you every time. He was studying what you liked, what made you feel good and you loved him.

He let go of the sheets and placed both hands on your hips, giving you even tougher thrusts and even biting on your neck. Your entire body was on fire, you were overwhelmed notnonkynfrom his size but the feeling of Jason's body pressing into yours. You couldn't feel so good.

You always knew Jason was a bitter, also long as he didn't draw too much blood you were alright with it. A soft moan left your mouth as you came again, cum running down your thighs while Jason continued to fuck you. Jason thought about overstimming, making you beg for him to stop because you'd feel too good.

"Didn't know my girl was into biting" He said, while lifting up one of your legs to push deeper into you. You'd cum for tbr second time but he needed you cum one last time at least before he came. The rough slaps of skin and moans filled the room. Making it hard for you to not cum again on the spot. You felt so good you couldn't even complain that he was teasing you "Fuck you're really sensitive sweetheart"

You hid your face in the crook of his neck while his hips pounded into yours. Your legs shook while you whispered in his ear, "If you don't stop m'gonna cum again, Jay pleaseeeee"

He didn't stop though, instead, you came another two times. Makes a mess of cock. "Such a good girl f'me, just let me fill you up and we'll be done. I promise sweetheart" He gripped your hips tightly before releasing inside you. The two of you exchanged a couple more kisses while you both rode out your orgasms.

You whimpered while he pulled out of you, missing his warmth already. He watched as his cum poured out of you, dripping on the sheets. You laid back on the bed, while he hovered over you for a brief moment.

Once he laid down next to you and though he was panting he pulled your body onto his lap. You rested your head on his chest just as he used to do to you. That reminded you, there was something you needed to say, "Jay can I say something I've been holding in for a long time, yeah?"

"Mhmm, what is it, sweetheart?"

"Jason Peter Todd, I love you"

❥ a/n: happy valentine's to all my lovelies!! i hope everyone enjoys this fic and also has a nice valentines day, whether it's with someone or by themselves.

❥ taglist: @meowkn, @kazzattack, @woodenanemone, @yourlocalcringydaydreamer , @orchidsangel, @millyhelp

[ladykailitha]

Steve is powered AU.

It's after Vecna and the Upside Down collapsing on itself before anyone finds out.

When Steve was seven, his mother had a psychotic break, saying that Steve was a changeling and tried to drown him the large bath tub in his parents' bathroom.

It was during this time she was admitted to Pennhurst.

They're cleaning up the Harrington Estate when his mother comes home and just starts screaming about the mess. Steve finally gets her calm down and tells Eddie that she didn't always used to be that way, she used to be a sweet and loving mother.

That's when Stella Harrington comes screaming back in that she didn't change. He did. He was the imposter. She knows her son and this creature before her isn't him.

But she won't explain how she knows.

Then a couple days later Nancy was talking to Robin about how someone should go back to Pennhurst to tell Victor Creel, that his son survived and is the cause of the all the destruction.

Robin is against it, because his mind was already shattered and that might destroy it. Nancy thinks he would want to know that he wasn't crazy.

When the name finally pinged in Steve's head. When they were trying to figure out who Vecna was, the name kept ringing a bell in his head. And just then it hit him.

His mother had been admitted there when he was younger.

But he keeps it to himself, because the last person he wants to know his mother was/is crazy is Nancy.

So he calls up the Hospital and requests her file and finds out that someone else recently accessed her file. Her doctor, Martin Brenner, had called just two weeks before the events that would lead to his death.

The receptionist asks if the address in Reno, Nevada is still good.

Steve's blood turns to ice in his veins.

Holy shit.

He corrects the address to Hawkins, Indiana and she brightens. Tells him that it's nice she's home again.

Steve needs to talk to El and he needs to do it away from Hopper. Because Hopper can't know about this. No one can.

Only Eddie starts noticing how withdrawn and twitchy Steve has become lately and manages to show up at the house when Steve gets his mother's medical files.

They learn that only reason Stella survived the Nina Project massacre was because she was on her to another facility for testing.

When Steve was seven his powers manifested so strongly, that his mother who was an empath, tried to suppress it so that Dr. Brenner wouldn't get his hands on Steve and it broke her mind. But Dr. Brenner didn't want Steve. Incorrectly assuming that she had succeeded, he wanted to harness her ability to break other's powers. Because if she could break Steve's, maybe she could break Henry's.

It was that research that led the device that controlled Henry's powers.

But Dr. Brenner realized that Stella didn't suppress Steve's powers. Steve did.

But his exposure to the Upside Down had eroded the block and that's why Steve was able to sense what was wrong with Nancy, knew that Max was in trouble.

He could sense it.

Dr. Owens tries to be respectful when asking Steve if they could run tests on him.

Everyone shouts NO at the same time.

But now everyone knows that Steve is powered, too, and El helps him learn to control it and take the break off completely. The first time they tried Steve got so overwhelmed with Eddie's love and affection for him that he passed out.

They were both pretty embarrassed that that was the way they got together. But Eddie liked to joke that his charm literally knocked Steve over.

Over the years it gets more fine-tuned. He knows Eddie is going propose before he does.

Knows when Max is pregnant with her first. Lucas couldn't keep his emotions down for shit.

Knows when Mike and El finally break up and realize they're better as friends. Their emotions are very angry for awhile before they mellow out.

Knows about Will and Mike's first kiss. Will is practically bursting with it.

[h0rnyauth0r]

ghost never noticed just how much you squirm when he talks until now :)

i apologize for my break but i needed it and i should be back for now! (also this was a requested work!)

word count: 3.3k

tws: blindfolding, voice kink, unprotected sex, reader with a vagina, pussy eating, fingering, rough sex, cumming inside

ghost would like to say that he’s an observant person. he kind of has to be with his career, but when it comes to you he feels like it’s impossible to understand anything. you seem so shy around him and he doesn’t know if it’s because he did something wrong or if you’re just shy.

he’s interested in you, to say the least. you’ve been a member in the force for several months now, only speaking to him on occasions where it’s absolutely necessary. it’s certainly different from soap, who doesn’t shut the hell up.

something is definitely off though. it’s the way that you react to him sometimes. most of the time there’s only professionalism, a firm stature that screams confidence and seriousness, but other times…

he just notices the way your body shudders when he’s speaking to you. is it fear? some sort of arousal? he can’t be certain at this point in time, but he has added this observation onto his list of things he wants to learn about you.

tonight you’ll be doing training with soap, and he’s decided that he’d like to join even if it means he’s just standing there doing nothing. he wants to test your reactions to try to understand you better.

you, on the other hand, have no idea about that. you’ve been more focused on trying to get your punches down after dislocating your thumb during a mission a few weeks ago. you almost died because you didn’t punch right, so soap offered to help teach you how to throw them without injuring yourself too bad.

as you’re on your way to the training room, you can overhear soap talking with someone. it intrigues you, how whispered and rushed his words are. so you decide to stop walking to avoid confusing him as you listen in.

“are you sure about joining us? you know, she’s quite shy around you. she might not be able to learn a lot if the man who makes her stutter is around!” his voice sounds frustrated, and you feel your whole body become flushed once you process his words.

so, ghost wants to join in on the training session? that doesn’t make sense, and the worst part of it is that soap somehow noticed that you have a crush on the older man. you avoided him so much, but you figure that’s probably what made it more obvious.

you suck it up and push forward, walking down the hallway and approaching the room. most of the usual training dummies have been put away, mats placed on the floor with only one of the larger dummies placed to the left of the mats.

soap is standing in there by the dummy, ghost standing a few feet away from him with his arms crossed. you won’t back down and shy away today, you’ve decided. you’re truly hoping he doesn’t say a single word though.

soap notices you as soon as you shut the doors, waving you over with a grin on his face. “i decided that you can use the dummy and we can practice using myself as well, i just want to test out the dummy first so we can get your formation down.”

you nod, looking over to ghost to see him staring at you already. “hi, lieutenant.” you say to him, turning back to soap and getting prepared for the training session.

“hello.”

after a little while, you’ve gotten the basics down better than before. your issue was mainly not throwing punches properly, which led to your thumb being in the line of your shots too. soap helps you adjust accordingly, finally landing punches that only affect your knuckles rather than your thumbs.

soap announces that he has to use the restroom and excuses himself, leaving you alone with ghost. you decide to not say anything, opting to focus on punching the dummy in front of you rather than focus on him.

“you’re doing good.” his voice comes from right next to you, startling you and causing you to jump slightly as you look over at him. 

“thank you.” you say, looking down at your now seemingly bruised knuckles and rubbing them gently with your other hand. they hurt pretty bad, but you know that soap will probably ask you to keep going for a little while longer so you’re more prepared.

you notice his shadow loom over you as he gets closer, a hand reaching out and grasping onto your bruised one. “you know, this will get a lot less intense over time. the more you train, the less it’ll hurt.” his voice is right in your ear, causing your eyes to shut as you try your best to not make anything obvious.

everything about his voice just gets you going. from his accent, to how it sounds when he’s calm versus yelling. no matter what he does, his voice makes you melt and turns your panties into a sopping mess within just seconds.

his hand drops yours, causing you to open your eyes as you look at him. he’s looking at you intensely, eyes filled with emotion you can’t read. your whole face feels hot, though, and you’re almost ashamed to even look at him.

he knows what he does to you, and he’s going to be doing it on purpose now.

you opt to ignore him, waiting impatiently until soap finally comes back into the room with a fresh bottle of water and a sheepish smile on his face. he senses the tension in the room, but doesn’t mention it at all since he knows it’d be awkward.

the three of you remain in the room for some time longer, before eventually an hour has passed and it’s time to leave and focus on other things. there’s an upcoming mission you’ll be going on, so you decide to spend some time with gaz to figure out the details.

your walk in the dark is mildly terrifying. the light heading towards the building where gaz stays is limited, several areas of shadows that cause your vision to be impaired. you don't feel right, an anxiety developing that normally isn't present.

several vehicles leave gaps in between certain spots, a feeling of someone following you causing you to stop in your tracks and take a look around. 

nothing.

you sigh in relief. it must be some sort of paranoia from how tired you are after training. you did break quite a sweat, which was made worse with ghost’s gleaming eyes on you for the majority of the time you had been in the room.

you decide to continue forward-

but something stops you, from the shadows. a small reflection of someone’s eyes, a large figure looming in between two large trucks. your heart begins to pound harshly, quickly trying to make a break towards the building so you can find some sort of defense against the figure.

but you’re stopped, large hand grabbing and pulling you back into the shadows. you let out a scream, adrenaline pumping as you kick and punch as hard as you can muster. a low grunt is all you hear, an ease in the way the figure carries you away.

something is put over your eyes, a blindfold perhaps? you’re shaking now, being led to who knows where in the darkness and you can’t even be sure if anyone will ever find you. you’re certain that death looms closely now, deciding to just give up because no amount of force is stopping this human wall from taking you.

you want to cry but stay strong, keeping a cold and stoic appearance (you think at least) as you’re finally let go of in what you think is a small building nearby. wouldn’t this person have locked you in a car or something? why here? you’re confused now, not understanding what’s going on.

“you don’t need to kick so hard.”

you feel embarrassed as the voice speaks. of course it’s him. but why you’re blindfolded, you still don’t understand. ghost is probably trying to prepare you for something, maybe a training on how to escape a kidnapper.

he keeps your arms pressed tightly against your back, though. not a single ounce of movement on his end, just the heat of his body near yours in the dark.

“where are we?” you ask, trying to move your arm with no luck present in him leaving you be. 

“nowhere that matters right now.”

you feel kind of nervous. this man has saved you many times before working together. you can’t help but feel in your gut that he may somehow be plotting your murder or disappearance with the way he’s acting.

not having any sights of what’s going on has led to the smallest of noises feeling so much louder, so you’re flustered when you can hear and feel his breath right at your ears.

“an annoying bird has told me that you’re interested in me. and my observations seem to have proven him right.” he whispers lowly, hotness of his breath brushing against your skin slightly.

you’d be lying if you said you weren’t turned on now. his voice makes you unbelievably wet, and you don’t understand how you’re not dreaming right now.

the heat that has developed between your thighs is almost burning, a desire bubbling up in your abdomen that has you almost shaking. “hmm, see? you’re not too great at hiding that, love.”

you clench your jaw, sucking in a deep breath. you have goosebumps along your whole body, the cool air around you making the feelings of his warmth so much more intense.

“now, i’m going to let your arms go. but if you even move a muscle i will leave you here alone and we won’t speak again. got it?” you nod hastily at his words, feeling his arms finally release the tight grip on you that makes your shoulders and arms crack lightly.

he shuffles around the room, and you can hear as he leans down and abruptly has your pants tugged down slightly. the cool air hits your panties, making you shiver. one of his hands grasps onto your thighs tightly, squeezing and slowly working its way up.

you realize he’s down on his knees in front of you when he easily slides your panties down too, now at your ankles with your pants. you’re absolutely dripping, feeling wetness leak down your thighs to where his hands are.

that’s when he lets out a soft, amused laugh. “so wet already and i haven’t even touched you? you’re desperate.” he says, a single finger pushing between your folds and gathering up wetness.

you can hear the way his fingers move, entering his mouth with a soft squelch. the way your face heats up when you realize he’s unmasked sends you reeling for more, wanting him to do anything to you now.

“you’re in luck, as i’m desperate as well.” he whispers, making you bite down on your bottom lip tightly. the heat of his words is close to your pussy now, a light blow of his breath against your clit.

you’re trying hard not to move, staying so completely still despite the shake in your bones. “please…” you whisper, wanting him to touch you or just something.

when his tongue laps right up your folds, you inhale sharply, eyes clenched shut despite the blindfold on your body. a small and quiet moan breaks through your lips when he pushes a finger in, curling it into you as he blows air onto your clit.

“please what? you want me to make you cum?” he asks, and you nod desperately as his finger stays still.

he smacks your clit with his other hand, making you cry out and tears sting at the corners of your eyes. you feel disgusting for finding that so pleasurable. “use. your. words.” his voice is quiet, and you inhale sharply.

“yes. please make me cum.” you mumble out quickly, words rushed and almost slurred. he hums in approval at that, finger moving in and out again and sending your mind straight to the gutter.

light squelching sounds turn louder once he adds two more fingers, stretching you out as his lips latch onto your clit. you’re almost in disbelief from how good it feels, eyes rolling back and legs shaking. you almost feel like you could fall over, but one of his hands remains on your hip to reassure you that you won’t.

your orgasm builds steadily, arms remaining tucked at your sides out of fear that his words were true. you can’t just let this end now, now when he’s eating you out like his life depends on it. he’s so skilled at what he’s doing that you can barely contain your composure.

you know you’re going to cum soon after he starts getting rougher, wetness becoming more and more until it’s almost so loud you can’t hear anything else. when his mouth leaves you and he starts talking again, that’s what sends you over the edge.

“such a pretty pussy. you’re so good for me, you know that?” he says quietly, thumb swiping at your clit and making your spine tingle.

“i can feel how close you are. go on. cum for me.” the raspiness in his tone has you moaning out, orgasm crashing through you as your walls clench around his fingers. you can’t think straight, mind becoming absolutely fried as he continues finger fucking you through your high.

your hips are shaking as his fingers slide out, a small dripping noise of your arousal hitting the floor below you. you hear him stand up, arms gripping your waist as he pushes your body into his.

his nose brushes up against your own, and you force the gap closed with urgency. you can’t keep away from him anymore, not now. his lips move against yours roughly, tongue forcing itself into your mouth.

you push your hips against his, feeling the rough fabric of his jeans and, more importantly, the feeling of his hard cock against you. you can even feel how big he is, and you know it’ll make you sore later. just the thought of that has you soaked again, lips leaving his for a moment for air as your heart rate picks up.

“i’m not done yet.” he whispers in your ear, pushing his lips onto yours again.

and just when you thought he couldn’t get any hotter.

as you kiss, he leads you to the wall. it’s cold, pressing into your ass hard as he leans further into you. his hips grind into your naked bottom half, the mild overstimulation making you mewl against his lips.

you’re basically heaving, barely able to breathe when his lips leave yours. “you ready?” he asks, and you mumble out ‘yes’ as he fumbles with his belt and eventually tugs his pants and boxers down.

you can’t see his cock, but you imagine it’d be nice and pretty. you can hear him stroke it a few times before it’s pressed against your folds, sliding up and down and making you bite your lip in anticipation. the tip feels big against you, just the right amount of stimulation to make you want him to fuck your brains out.

the tip presses into you, making your hips twitch from shock as your nails dig into your palms. as he slides in, your mouth falls open and you moan shakily. “fuck, you’re tighter than i thought you’d be. such a nice cunt.” he says, hips bumping into yours as he bottoms out.

tears stream down your face from the feeling of fullness, so overwhelming but you already can’t get enough of him. the tip just barely grazes your cervix, and when he slowly begins thrusting it slaps against it over and over again. it’s painful, but you love that.

he decides to lift you up by the back of your thighs, legs wrapping around him and the new angle feeling more pleasurable as he fucks you into the wall harshly. his hands are squeezing your ass, lips finding their way to your neck as he bites down on your skin roughly. 

he moves at a steady pace, cock hitting all the right places that send you closer and closer to your peak. his movements are hard, dick ramming into you in a manner that makes you finally move your hands and grip onto his hair.

“fuck.” he mutters, hips picking up speed as he kisses you again. small noises leave his mouth, muffled by your lips but still so hot to hear coming from him. he sounds so good to you, his grunts and groans causing your pussy to clench against him. 

he fucks into you harder and harder, the stimulation of his groin smacking into your clit making you feel as if you’re melting. the way your eyes have rolled back again, clit throbbing from the stimulation, you know you’ll probably cum soon.

“touch yourself for me.” he says, a small break between your kisses. you comply instantaneously, fingers reaching down and circling your clit and smacking harder against yourself from his thrusts hitting your hands.

his lips separate from yours, leaning towards your ear and biting down on your earlobe. the stimulation of that causes your fingers to start moving faster.

the feeling of your fingers is what sends you reeling, a loud moan escaping as you finally cum for a second time. “fuck, just like that. cum like the desperate slut you are.” he mumbles in your ear, making you cry out again.

his hips don’t falter for even a second as you hear him inhale sharply, small grunts leaning his mouth as his hands slap into the wall behind you. “gonna cum in you. i think you can take it.” he mutters, words making you feel like you could explode right now.

“please.” your voice cracks.

he finally cums afterwards, ropes of it warming your insides as his hips stutter into you. he rides out his high with a few more thrusts, gentle noises finally being let out again as he slowly comes to a stop.

he pulls out after a few moments, cum leaking out of you and streaming down your thighs. you stand still for a moment, not sure of what to do now.

"you can take the blindfold off now." he says, and you decide to do so.

you still can't see great once it's off, the room very dark with minimal lighting coming from the occasional light outside shining into the windows. but you glance over to ghost anyways, noticing that he still kept his mask off in front of you. while you can't see too well, you smile anyways in adoration.

"as handsome as soap always claims." you say to him, hearing him sigh out as he shakes his head. his hand smacks your ass and he pulls his pants back up, a grin forming on your face as you gather your clothes back onto yourself as well. your thighs and cunt are sore, but you feel almost floaty despite the pain.

"of course you'd think that." he mutters, noticing the way you're off balance as you pull your pants up and over your thighs. one of his arms reaches out for you to help balance you and you thank him quietly before standing upright and looking him up and down.

"so, an annoying bird?" you ask.

"quite annoying. certainly not wrong though."

as you go your separate ways that night, you can't contain your excitement. gaz can immediately tell what took you so long when he sees your messed up hair and crooked smile, but he doesn't bother to say anything. you've talked about ghost for months, he's just glad you finally got it over with.

-

taglist: @kovieky

(my taglist is open! send ask/dm if interested!)

[reiderwriter]

🌞 Just Hanging Out 🌞

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Genre: Fluff, suggestive MINORS DNI 18+

WC: 3k

Summary: To kick off your vacation, you find yourself at Rossi's mansion with your team for a big summer barbeque. A hammock in the garden catches your eye, and you enlist Reid to help you have some fun in the sun.

Warnings: reader is a tease, shy Spencer, sexual arousal (M and F) no physical smut (god I wish we still used the citrus system).

A/N: Here's my second entry to @imagining-in-the-margins CM Summer Sunshine Fic Challenge! Thanks to everyone who helped my pick the plot for this one :) I was also intending for this to be a reply to one of my requests for more BAU reader, but unfortunately tumblr deleted that request so 🤡 I'm tagging the account below anyways, and I have three more BAU reader fics coming in the next two weeks-ish, including my new series That's What You Get, so I hope you like this fic and be sure to look out for the others! Enjoy~

Here's my masterlist and my requests are open!

It was mid-August, and thankfully, the serial killers of America had given up crime for one week of the year to allow you to enjoy some much needed vacation time. The entire team had been put on annual leave, and you were determined to enjoy it to the absolute capacity of your ability.

Despite being together year-round, you actually enjoyed the company of your coworkers, so when Rossi announced he was planning a summer barbeque at his place to kick off your vacation time, you were ecstatic. If Rossi’s barbecuing skills were anything like his pasta making skills, you were expecting to eat yourself into a food coma and not wake up for the next seven days.

“Not a single one of you will touch this grill, stand within a 1 foot radius of this grill or even dare to look at this grill, so help me God, are we understood?” Rossi announced as soon as you arrived, the last of the BAU team to gather in his self-proclaimed mansion. The gardens were beautiful, and the kids were already running riot on the slip and slide that he had set up for them, screaming and giggling in delight.

“Trust me, you’re not getting me near that thing today, Rossi,” you laugh as you pour yourself a glass of wine from the refreshments table. “Last time I was anywhere near a grill I almost died.”

“I don’t remember encountering any unsubs who used grills as their weapon of choice,” JJ laughed at you as she held out her own glass and you gladly filled it for her.

“That’s because it wasn’t on a case, it was a family barbeque when I was 17 and my grandfather thought I should learn some ‘practical skills,’” you shot a grin at her as she rolled her eyes at you and walked away.

You grabbed your glass and looked for somewhere to perch yourself while you took in the sun. Morgan and Prentiss had already grabbed the two sun-loungers on the patio and were both sitting shirtless (with a bikini top on in Prentiss’s case) taking in as much sun as they could. Garcia was similarly sprawled on the deck sofa, and JJ joined her their after grabbing her refreshment, Will stood by the edge of the deck watching over the kids. Hotch had the amazing foresight to bring his own camping chair, and was set up similarly with one eye on Jack and the other on a book in his hand.

And just where you were expecting him, Spencer Reid was stood awkwardly at the edge of the house, in the only spot of shade he could find, leaning slightly against the door, and squinting into the sun.

“Rossi, you got any other chairs I can grab for me and Reid?” you called out to your host.

“There should be some over by the shed, they might need a bit of a dusting down though.”

“Come on pretty boy, you can’t just be standing all day, you’re going to make me feel tired just watching you,” you laughed up at him and caught the flush of his cheeks as he finally caught that you meant him to follow you.

“I’m really fine here over in the shade, I don’t do too great in the sun, anyways. More of an autumnal person, really…”

“I’d feel bad seeing you stand all day, and besides, what if I need a big, strong man to help me carry my chair over?” As he gaped his mouth open and closed looking for a retort, you felt the small flash of victory spread warm your chest. It wasn’t that you liked messing with Reid, it’s that he was an easy target and actually you loved it.

Having joined the team only the year prior, you’d quickly found the genius incredibly endearing, loving to listen to his little monologues about whatever topic had popped into his head that day, often earning groans from your other colleagues as you encouraged him to keep going.

You’d discovered your love of making him squirm a few months into the job, when you had to interrogate a submissive partner of an unsub together. After theorising that the submissive personality had a thing for women who looked like you, especially ones that were pretty dominant and controlling, you’d decided to give him what he wanted. You’d popped the top button, walked into the room and given him your best shot before having to re-strategize.

“What if we send Reid in there with her?” Morgan was the one to suggest, “Have him act a bit touchy, show him something he’s missing out on. We already tried giving him what he wanted, let’s see how he reacts to someone he doesn’t view as a threat getting everything he thinks he’s entitled to.”

It was a good guess, and it worked. You’d walked into the room, and let Reid start asking the questions. He’d gently laid a hand on your thigh, just high enough for the suspect to notice, and you’d done nothing but quietly whisper directly into his ear, watching the entire time to see how the man in front of you would react. He’d cracked in ten minutes and started spewing misogynistic drivel, so angry that he accidentally confessed to the crime and gave away his partner’s location.

It seemed Reid had cracked just a bit too. He’d avoided eye-contact with you for an entire week after that, and whenever he talked to you in that time, it was like his brain short-circuited. You’d bought a genius with an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory to his knees with a few whispers in his ear, and you loved the rush of power you felt remembering it. The memory of his strong hand on your thigh did nothing to quell your growing attraction towards the man.

“If you wanted someone big and strong, you should’ve asked Morgan,” Reid snapped you out of your thoughts as he diligently followed you in the direction Rossi had pointed. It was a pretty secluded spot in the garden, a little bit away from the action and you were glad to be out of earshot so you could begin your teasing of the Good Doctor.

“I’m sure you’re big and strong in certain places, Spencer,” you smiled at him, and began looking at the chairs.

You spotted it in the corner, then, the perfect tool for your torment. It seemed relatively new, barely used but still pretty sturdy, and you knew this was it.

“Hey, Rossi, what about this hammock in the corner, can I set this up, too?” you shouted back over to the group and grinned up at Reid.

“Do you have a death wish? Because if so, go ahead and tangle with that devil.” Rossi shouted back, not even looking up from the miriad of sausages and burgers he was working on.

“That sounds like a challenge to me, Doc.” You say and you start pulling it out into the sunlight, Reid steps behind you sighing in defeat. He knew that once you had your mind set on something, you were pretty stubborn about completing it.

“Okay, can you give me a boost?” The bed of the hammock fell to about your chest height, and whilst you knew you were probably able to climb in by yourself, you were wearing a particularly short sundress, and as much as you teased Reid, you didn’t exactly want to give the rest of your team and their families an eyeful.

“You want me to try to lift you into this thing?” Reid squeaked out, a look of confusion passing over his features.

“Yeah, just grab my hips and give me a boost and I’ll swing my legs over and straddle it. Then we can see what’s it's like.” He moved cautiously up behind you, letting his hands graze your waist.

“Reid, you’re going to have to hold me a bit tighter than that if we’re actually going to get anywhere.” You placed your hands over his and pushed his grip down stronger; you could practically hear him gulp from behind you. He pushed you up, and you almost had it, but you couldn’t quite pull yourself up and into it.

After a few attempts, you realised it wasn’t going to work. Reluctantly pulling yourself out of Reid’s grip, you turned to face him.

“New plan, you get in first and pull me up.”

“What? I don’t want to go anywhere near that thing, didn’t you hear what Rossi said?”

“Come on Reid, just this once, for me? We have to try at least!” you pouted up at him now with pleading eyes, hoping that you wouldn’t have to resort to batting your eyelashes at him to get him to agree.

“One attempt, and then I’m grabbing a normal chair and leaving, okay?” He negotiated, but you didn’t care and excitedly wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him in for a hug.

“Yay, thank you! I love you, Reid, you know that?” you pulled back slightly to deliver that last line, your arms still around his neck, watching the redness spread upto his cheeks.

He mumbled a quick whatever and pulled away to begin his attempts.

Perhaps it was his few extra inches of height or spindly frame, but Reid managed to climb up quite easily, not even rocking the hammock that much in his ascent.

He sat up pretty steadily, and you lifted your arms to him, and that’s when it all started going wrong. You’re combined weight wasn’t enough to break the hammock, but it was enough to set it off into an unsteady rocking that made your stomach lurch slightly. You swung your leg as best you could over Reid’s, already in the hammock, and as soon as you found some purchase there, he lowered one hand to pull your lower body up as well.

It was just unfortunate that the place his hand landed was directly over your ass, and you let out a sharp gasp as he grabbed it tightly and hauled you up to sit directly over him, chest to chest, practically straddling his entire body in the cramped space of the hammock bed.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I meant to grab your hip.” He tried to let go of you and push his hands up where you could see them, but the sudden movement made the hammock lurch dangerously so you snapped your hand over his and forced them back to their previous position.

“No sudden movements, Spencer, I don’t particularly want to be the butt of all jokes for the next year if we fall out of this thing.” You panicked slightly and squirmed a little in your position, trying to explore your range of movement.

“How are we going to get out of this if we can’t move?” he shot back at you, a look of mild discomfort on his face, and an I-told-you-so begging to escape his lips.

“If you just give me a minute to explore our options, maybe I would be able to figure that out.”

“If you keep squirming like that we’re going to have more problems than just how to get down,” he huffed under his breath, but he was so close that it was impossible for you to miss it.

It was your turn to blush now, as you caught his insinuation. With his hand firmly on your ass, and your legs either side of his, you could feel the entire length of his body below you. Each squirm you made the dampness between your legs pool a little bit more and then you in-turn squirmed even more in a vicious cycle.

After a few minutes, there was no denying that the thing prodding your core was Spencer’s sizable… appendage.

“Shit, Y/N, I’m sorry, it’s just a natural reaction,” he groaned out from below you when he realised you could feel it too, and you’d never heard anything so beautiful as the moans he was accidentally vocalising.

“It’s my fault, I’m sorry for being so stubborn about this. Let me see if I can figure something else out,” you cautiously slid your hands up his chest, and he screwed his eyes shut. Pushing against his shoulders, you slowly pulled yourself up to a seated position, doing your best to not rock the hammock too much. The new position did nothing to dampen the friction the two of you were feeling, and you knew that you were a few seconds away from a point of no return. Your hips bucked slightly against him against your will, and you really hoped he hadn’t noticed that was totally not to the benefit of you getting out of the hammock.

You looked down to the ground so you could see how far the descent would be, and if you’d have to call for backup anytime soon. Luckily you thought you’d be able to make it if you just swung your legs over the side and got out as quickly as possible, but fate had other plans.

“Spencer, Y/N what are you two doing over here?” came Emily’s voice from behind you. Spencer’s eyes shot open and he pulled his head up slightly to look at her. However, his movement had rocked the hammock a little bit harder than before, so he had to grab your hip to steady the two of you, pushing you further down into him. You did your best to stifle the moan, biting down hard on your tongue as you did so.

“Oh you know, just hanging out,” he managed to get out in reply, his voice notably higher than it usually was.

“You sure you guys don’t need any help? That doesn’t look like the safest of chairs.” Emily’s questioning stare never lifted and you knew that if she caught wind of what was actually going on, you wouldn’t be able to look her in the eye for an entire year. You couldn’t accept the help.

“Yeah, we were just going to climb down in a second, we’re just checking to see how… sturdy it is right now.”

“Sturdy. Right. Well, Rossi said the food would be ready to start serving in a few minutes and asked me to call you guys over.”

“We’ll be right there, thanks Emily.” You smiled at her and she made to walk away, a suspicious look still on her face.

“What do you mean we’ll be right there, I can’t go over there like this!” Spencer whisper yelled into your ears.

“What else was I supposed to say to get her to go away,” you whisper yelled back. You ran a free hand through your hair, and shifted again, your legs beginning to cramp up a little in the awkward position.

“Okay you get down, I’ll make a break for the bathroom, say all this moving around made me need to pee or something, and then we meet up again on the patio and pretend this never happened?” he said and you nodded quickly.

You began to lift your body weight up and remove your legs from the tangle you were stuck in, and that’s when the hammock reared it’s ugly head for the final time. As you lifted your leg slowly, you accidedntally got your foot stuck in the side of the fabric, and pinned there but still moving, the hammock toppled and spat both of you out unceremoniously.

Reid landed ontop of you with a hard thud. You let out a sweet curse, just as Reid pushed his body weight onto his hands, taking some of the pressure off of you after the fall. You stared up into his eyes as you realised you’d found yourself in yet another compromising situation and you deepeded to a scarlet red as you realised your sundress had blown up completely in your descent, and he was now neatly nestled in between your legs, with your damp underwear on display for him.

Looking down at you, he took a beat too long to react, and you squirmed under his gaze, feeling appropriately trapped, before he sprung up and offered you a hand up.

You took his hand and rearranged your dress, thankful that the smell of the food had distracted everyone from your embarrassing fall.

“Okay, we’re out.” You were flustered and you didn’t know what else to say.

“Yep, that was certainly one way to do it,” Reid replied, as you avoided his gaze. You wrapped your arms around yourself, and he made to do so similarly, trying his best to rearrange himself so the bulge in his pants wasn’t so noticeable.

“You should get to the bathroom.”

“You should get to the food.” He retorted and you finally made to move, but stopped yourself turning around quickly to face the man again.

“Before I go,” you said and you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss into his mouth, feeling as giddy as a teenager braving her first kiss. You turned away just as fast and made your way back to the party, leaving a flustered and spluttering Reid behind as you made a beeline for the food.

“So, what’d you think of the hammock?” Rossi asked you as you began loading your plate up. You put on your best poker face and begged noone had noticed anything out of the ordinary.

“You were right. That thing is dangerous,” was your only response, and you retreated into the corner to finish your food. You sat there waiting eagerly for Reid to return, not just so you could be in his presence again and see how he was reacting to your kiss, but also so you could get the image of him dealing with his situation out of your mind.

It seemed that being a tease and working him up hadn’t quite ended so well for you that day.

You blamed the hammock.

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

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[highvern]

Baby Blues

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, domestic!au

Warnings: gross tooth rotting fluff, dad!gyu mom!reader.

Length: ~500

Note: Drunk Goggles couple is back! for a moment! I'm in a bit of a slump and needed something easy and they're so near and dear to my heart. I saw a tiktok of a baby refusing to say dada and i couldn't let it go. threw in some speech development bc im annoying (babies use their lips to say M and B sounds and their tongues to say D which is a skill they develop later)

also GIRL DAD MINGYU SUPREMACY

read more here

“Say da-da.”

“Mama!”

“Your daughter hates me.” Mingyu huffs, head falling to the kitchen table with a thunk. 

Hana delights in her fathers dramatics, squealing her joy while yogurt goes flying. Her chubby fists clap against the plastic table of her high chair and little legs kick out. Mingyu smiles through the pain, never able to truly be annoyed with his favorite person in the world.

Mingyu had been trying to get her to say dada for the better part of an hour. So far each request was either answered with "mama", bubble noises, or unintelligible baby gibberish. You'd simply watched the entire thing unfold from behind your coffee cup, smirking into the rim at Mingyu's desperation.

“Our daughter doesn’t hate you." You say, rolling your eyes. "She’s a baby.”

“No, she hates me. Watch. Say dada, Hana.”

Hana doesn’t pause before shrieking, “Mama!”

“See!” He argues, arms out towards the babbling baby like she's torturing him on purpose.

“She just loves her mama, don’t you Hana?” You coo at her, stroking the top of her head covered in wispy hair as you wipe the mess of drool and her breakfast away.

“Ggggh!”

“Daddy is silly, isn’t he?”

“Bfffff.” Hana spits, ungracefully wiggling in her seat.

Eyes wide, you agree with her ramblings. “Exactly what I was thinking.”

“Hey! Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.” Mingyu pouts.

“We would never!” You give Hana a cartoonish wink that sends her into a fit.

Returning to the sink with dirty dishes, you listen to your husband try desperately to get Hana to say the words he’s been begging to hear since she called you mama for the first time a week ago. Hana humors him, pure sunshine under Mingyu’s constant attention; giggling at his crestfallen face every time like its new.

Deciding to take mercy, you approach Hana’s chair and lift her into your arms. “Gyu watch this. Hana, where’s baba? Baba?” You ask, pointing one of her pudgy fists directly at Mingyu.

“Bah…Bah?”

“She—she said—I’m baba!” Mingyu repeats dumbstruck, staring at your smiling face.  “LETS GO!” He whoops, rising to bolt around the kitchen. Jumping around the room like he won the lottery, fists punching the air in victory. 

It’s the same way he reacted when he found the positive test waiting for him on the bathroom counter almost a year ago. Unfiltered, unadulterated joy. Except there were far more tears when he found out he was going to be a dad, a broken lamp, and a broken couch.

Now, he grins like a mad man, chest puffed in pride that his daughter finally recognized him. As if it was ever a question despite Hana being a spitting image of Mingyu except for her nose which clearly comes from your gene pool. How she screams when he gets home from work and immediately picks her up for smothering kisses like he’d been gone more than a couple hours. Or when you’re all curled up on the couch and she falls asleep on his chest, her mouth open wide as she snores just like the man holding her. And the times all the boys visit to coo over their niece, bribing her with funny faces and silly voices to let them carry her, but the only person she reaches her little arms for his Mingyu.

Hana is Mingyu’s mini me, attached to his hip since her first day. But she's already learning how to get the best of him, no doubt a skill she inherited from you.

You and your daughter cackle in unison as Mingyu sweeps you both into a bear hug, alternating kisses between your lips and Hana’s almost bald head. 

“My girls,” he says with a squeeze, content seeping into his words.

“Mama!”

There's a sigh of resignation, and a nod of his head. “We’ll work on it.”

[bearwithegg]

Fight Like a Girl || B.Blackwood || Part 2 ||

My thoughts have just been plagued with scenes I can write for this, i honestly intended this to be 2 parts but I ALREADY HAVE IDEAS FOR PART 3 SO FUCK IT WE BALL???

PART 1 HERE

PART 3 HERE

Kieran!Benjicot Blackwood (fancast) x f!Reader

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: Swearing??? Idiots in love but they dont know what that means

Tags <3: @spider-stark

***

War, for all that it brings with it, destruction, pain, suffering on a scale hitherto unknown remained a constant and unchanging conundrum. Were the gods so cruel as to let brother kill brother over trivial squabbles? It was a fascinating thing, to understand, to learn. You, however, decided in this current juncture it felt like a personal punishment aimed to torment and break you down. Realistically, the suffering it caused on a wider scale was insurmountable and that was something you could acknowledge. But in this instance, the way your body aches and screams from constant use makes it feel like a personal sleight.

“Your grip is weak.”

A soft groan of frustration exhales when you sigh, “I cannot hold the sword otherwise.” Dropping the sword by your side, it had been hours without respite and weeks of training for what? You still couldn’t even hold a sword properly and that frustrated you only more.

Benji laughs, softly, circling you with his head tilted to the side. You want to hit him but decide against it. After all, he didn’t need to visit your tent and assist in getting you battle ready — yet he did it either out of some sense of male honour or he secretly enjoyed overseeing your own personal agony.

“Does my ineptitude amuse you, my Lord?” You throw the sword on the ground, it landing with a thud on the canvas flooring. In the throes of frustration, you wipe the sweat from your brow and run a hand through unevenly chopped locks of hair.

“Your petulance, perhaps.” The boyish smile breaking through his hardened demeanor always caught you off guard. A gentle reminder that he was not some battle beaten man, he was young and had his innocence ripped from him; more or less like you. “You may not see it but there is improvement,” he dips down to pick the sword up, holding it out for you to take it again.

Right or not, it didn’t matter in the present. The improvement may have been so miniscule it might as well not have counted, though it was always difficult to see one's progress without the lense of the past. And with a sigh of concession, you snatch the sword from his hand and give him a goading look, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Again,” he instructs firmly, tongue protruding slightly out from between his lips — he was too good at that, switching from his natural charming disposition to a commanding authority in an instance. As if two halves of him were at odds with each other, another part of him lay dormant but the crazed look in his eyes often betrayed his steadfast composure. You weren’t sure if you liked it or feared it.

With a roll of your wrist and standing with a sturdy bearing, you take an offensive stance. His eyes wander all over you, in a completely different scenario it may have been flattering or intrusive, but there is no desire hidden away in the deep brine pools of his eyes. Under his scrutinous gaze you hold firm; at least my wrist doesn’t feel like falling off.

Improvement.

He steps to your side flank, head tilted in thought. The low hum accompanying the loud thoughts you wished he’d say out loud.

When did he get so close? You swallow nervously — he was a practical man, but often opted to show you how to do something by watching him first. Surprisingly gentle to the touch he brings a hand over yours, the one that grips the sword and adjusts your grip. Tilting your wrist slightly and nudging your thumb to a different position.

“Can you feel the difference?” He murmurs, an unexpectedly tender moment that would have floored you entirely had you not spent weeks training at his command. Even now though, you feel composure waning, creaking away like a tree that has had its trunk chopped halfway.

“Feels like… I have more control,” You utter, looking slightly over your shoulder. Oh. He was much closer than you thought.

He nods, softly adjusting your grip to keep the blade upright, though he doesn’t move his hand this time. “Your stance is good and solid. But means little if you have no strength to fortify it…” His other hand is held up so that you can see it and slowly brings it down to your hip. Not once during this small interaction does he break eye contact, it was as though he was giving you the chance to stop him if you wanted to.

You don’t, of course.

A moment of hesitation as he tentatively touches your hip before holding it and rotating you ever so slightly, “what you lack in strength, you have in speed… This stance is better for your momentum.”

“Right,” you whisper, blinking out of the daze you felt yourself fall into by the pull of his gaze. His eyes were so lovely. In moments like this they were bright with a golden hue, as if marked by the Gods. Other times they were dark, dangerous abyssal pits that you could equally get lost in. But not now.

“Good,” he smiles, the same boyish smile that makes you a little nervous and nauseous concurrently. Which was a strange feeling because you weren’t repulsed by him and yet your body reacted all the same. No one had ever elicited such strange reactions within you like he did.

“Try and disarm me.”

“What?” You feel your arm immediately drop as he steps away and unsheathes his own sword. No longer honey touched eyes boring into yours, they were void and wild. He doesn’t give you a chance to process anything before swinging his sword, you have no choice but to stumble back, practically flailing your own sword to stop from getting hurt.

Clang!

The metal blades ricochet off one another and you take the chance to scurry across the bed swiftly before he can attempt another blow, “fuck, fuck — fuck!” You hiss, standing on the other side of the tent, barely a chance to think properly before he’s back onto you like a grounded tempestuous storm.

With wide eyes you jump out of the way, his sword connects with the side table and wood splinters off into pieces. The first casualty — you’d have laughed or joked if you weren’t absolutely fearing for your life in a way. Heart pounding hard as you take a chance to counter, using a leg to disable him by going for his knees but he sees it and contorts his body just in time.

“C’mon!” He shouts, eyes wild and borderline murderous.

Unsure what possibly possessed you other than it felt right. Call it a childish rebuke or not, you instantly straighten your stance and yell back at him, a deep and guttural yell, like one would trying to fend a bear off an attack.

He licks his lips, the grin of a mad man apparent, “there she is.”

This time you swing first, kicking off the back leg gives you a good enough propulsion and wind up with the sword. Cling! He cross blocks, letting your blade slide down his own and the two of you are practically face to face, the slightest smirk pulls at his lips and you match it with a barely audible snarl.

Using your full body weight, you push into him to get distance which only just works.

Another swing from him, narrowly missing your shoulder as you jump aside, his sword clashing with one of the bed posts, it snaps under the force and limply hangs onto the unmarked wood. You take advantage of his over extension, ducking beneath his arms and opting for the best option, shouldering him in the waist and bringing him down to the ground.

Not your finest work, but he tumbles - and you with him - onto the canvas flooring, but at least you had the upper hand and though strength was not in your arsenal just yet, speed was. Pinning him to the ground, you straddle higher than the waist to keep him from bucking you off or swinging his legs around.

Both of you held your blades to each other's throat in a stalemate, chests heaving with heavy breaths.

“A fair play, my lady,” he pants quietly, though the impish grin on his face suggested otherwise. Your eyes travel down to his other hand where he had his dagger pressed softly against the leathers of your tunic, no doubt a lethal puncture in the abdomen if you were in a real fight. He lowers his blades, “you are improving — getting better at trusting your instincts.”

“You went easy on me,” you whine, tossing your blade indignantly. The semi victory loses its glory almost instantly, souring in your mouth. Standing back up seemed to be more effort today than usual, muscles shaking, screaming for a modicum of respite. But war does not rest so neither shall your body.

“If you wish for me to kill you, then you need only ask,” he jests, you knew this — he was holding out for a reason. You hadn’t seen him in battle but can very well imagine without much stretch of the imagination how he has coined the notorious namesake of ‘Bloody Ben Blackwood’. Even more it seemed, he was often harsher, stricter and more brutal when he would lead training with the younger boys.

“Don’t offer such a tempting proposal,” you laugh, tired, exhausted.

He looks at you, seriously for but a moment, “if you desire rest, it is okay to take it.” And the sweet, caring and kind Benji fronted, flecks of gold honey in his eyes as he steps forward and grabs your hand with a touch so kindly it seemed foreign. He need not force you, tugging you to the bedside and sitting you down, “you are not weak for needing rest.”

You chuckle softly, “there is no rest for someone like me, I need to be ready for when we march forward within the tenday.”

“You won’t be much use to us if your legs cannot even carry you. Rest.” He says firmly, pushing gently on your shoulder which didn’t need much for you to collapse onto the bed. “We can resume overmorrow.” He’s seated on the side of your bed now, you open your mouth to contest but he glowers immediately, tilting his head forward and setting his jaw as if to silently say ‘don’t you dare’.

So you don’t dare.

“If I was less encumbered by my exhaustion I’d have hit you for looking at me like that,” you bite, rolling onto your side and instinctively curling in on yourself.

“You certainly would have tried.” He laughs.

“And succeeded, I pinned you already today — I could do it again if I willed myself.”

“Is that so? Perhaps we should get a maester to check those ears of yours, did I not request you disarm me? I don’t recall asking you to pin me.”

“Hmmm,” you hum, narrowing your eyes at him though the barely suppressed smile betrayed your poor attempt to keep a straight face. “I stopped thinking the moment you attacked me like a brute.”

He nods along with your words and though his words are vaguely threatening, his smile indicates a hint of mischievousness, “a Brute am I? You have a crass tongue, My Lady, you’d better keep it in check.”

“Clover.”

“Hm?” His head tilts to the side, like a dog hearing a command.

“Call me Clover… Garrus finds it easier… Less likely to accidentally call attention to my identity.” You run your fingers over the furs of your bed, naturally you omit the little part of the nickname because that seemed sacred to Garrus. Only he can call you that. But Benji had your trust, and you had his, even if it be an unspoken bond that grew stronger the more time elapsed within one anothers company. He at least deserved a little part of you.

There is silence, as he sits on your words, a faint smile ghosting his lips and he nods singularly, “As you wish, Clover.” And the strangest feeling encompasses the tent, it was thick but not suffocating, warm but not a hellfire. His hand moves so deftly, you hadn’t seen it until his fingers barely grazed your temple, pushing back a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

He holds it, a moment, two moments, before his eyes blink rapidly, something reminding him of his place and he flushes red, retracting his hand quickly as though he had touched hot coals. “A-Apologies… forgive me — that was wholly inappropriate. Please do rest, I will see you overmorrow.”

It happened rather quickly, he stands and you sit up as swiftly, “Benji.” You call but he was out quicker than bat out of the hells. Your shoulders slump, a faint pout on your lips as you try to decipher what that could’ve been about. Whatever it had been, you liked it, you liked him but that could mean a plethora of things.

You sigh, falling back into the bed and staring at not particularly anything. Perhaps it would be prudent to speak on the matter with Garrus when he returned.

[writingstoraes]

tour guide 🎥

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!actress!reader

type: instagram imagine, social media au

notes: saw the post abt apex filming at silverstone this week and got this idea lol lmk what u guys think! atp you already know who my fc is (it's hailee steinfeld 😝)

about: a well-known actress stars in a film that is set in the world of formula 1 and scuderia ferrari happens to be the leading team to guide the production team and its cast!

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, zendaya, madelyncline, and 1,249,247 others

yourusername Film prep starts now. Currently glad my parents forced me into getting my driver's license as early as I could as well as my brother introducing me to Formula 1 years ago 🏁

Beyond excited for this movie!

allhailyn WE LOVE U QUEEN WE CANT WAIT

filmthusiast this is such a new role for her im so excited

f1lover film + f1 is always going to be the biggest bestest combo ❤️

lecsluv LMAOOO NOT CHARLES LIKING THIS

zendayyn mans a fan norrisbaby Oh hes quick 😆

yourusername recently added to her instagram story!

yourusername recently added to her instagram story!

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari, pierregasly, and 1,482,2058 others

yourusername 3/4 done with filming for First Gear 🤍 So much work has been done for this movie and it's been the good kind of overwhelming so far. I've learned so much and experienced so many new things.

Included the one and only charles_leclerc here because majority of the things I learned came from him. He's pretty nice except he was beyond nervous when I drove the car for the first time.

scuderiaferrari We're glad to know Charles was the best tour guide ever! ❤️

lecsmmylove NOT FERRARI STICKING WITH THE TOUR GUIDE DESCRIPTION???

hamilfilm charles leclerc making his way into y/n's official ig account is not something i have on my bingo card

popgirltay u guys r so cute <3 friendship goals!

livelovelecs no, dating announcement next LOLOL

charles_leclerc Why do I seem like the bad guy here, I taught you pretty well didn't I?

yourusername I didn't say you were a bad teacher 😕

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, carlossainz55, scuderiaferrari, and 1,102,358 others

charles_leclerc Everyday's karting day 🚘

lecsferrari the red nails??? sir u aint slick who is that

sainzmclaren It's Y/N 😭 She posted karting pics today too

yourusername What do you have to say for yourself that you lost?

charles_leclerc I let you win, jolie 😁 Pretty. ferarrimercs HE CALLED HER PRETTY?????

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, zendaya, kendall, and 1,395,299 others

yourusername The student has become the teacher 😎

charles_leclerc Anyone would win if they were fighting kids on track

yourusername I sense sore loser 😝

leclercsyn TOO CUTE IM GONNA COMBUST

scuderiaferrari ❤️❤️❤️

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, zendaya, florencepugh, and 2,034,551 others

yourusername Feeling so emotional that filming for a movie that holds a special place in my heart has come to an end 🤍 I am so ecstatic for all of you to see First Gear because everyone involved put everything they had for this film. I hope you guys love this as much as I do, possibly more.

So many people to thank — the directors, producers, scriptwriters, my co-stars, everyone who's worked so hard to make this into reality, I owe you all so much.

But I also never thought I'd meet someone so special. Charles, this past year for us have been so crazy and I'm glad I got to spend it with you. If it helps, the moment they told me you would be giving me a tour of the paddock, I fell instantly 😝

leclercsyn MY PARENTS AAAAA IM SCREAMING

scuderiaferrari We are so proud of you, Y/N ❤️ The whole team is waiting for the movie!

charles_leclerc What do you mean if it helps, I was literally sweating while telling you what a pitwall is

lecslover HES SO FUNNYHTBHRHB

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, ynleclercs16, pierregasly, and 1,673,992 others

charles_leclerc Most talented person I've come across. Watching you on set has become one of my favorite things to do; it reminds me of just how amazing you are. To more karting sessions with you ❤️

Sincerely,

Your paddock tour guide

lecshamilton hes owning the tour guide title, mad respect

sainzlove I AM MELTINGGGGG

f1luvr power couple me thinks?

yourusername Get ready to lose 🥱

--------

tagging: @slytherheign, @honethatty12, @siovhanroy

notes: why i take so much time making these ill never understand anyway i hope u guys like this hehehe thank you sm for reading <3