#large locking dog door

[owenspets]

Secure and Convenient Pet Door for Easy Pet Access

A pet door is the perfect solution to give your furry friends the freedom to come and go as they please. Whether you have a dog or cat, this durable and secure door allows pets to access the outdoors safely while keeping your home protected from the elements and pests. Easy to install and designed for various sizes, a pet door provides convenience and independence for your pets. For more details visit our website: www.ownpets.com

[fishgirl514]

we just got a dog😭😭 im so freaked out about it ahahahhaaa

[yeyinde]

stalker!Simon decides to have a little fun with his favourite camgirl.

the message comes up halfway into your "show."

it's a boring night. slow. you wear a lingerie set one of your viewers sent in beneath a silk robe, all in a pretty pastel pink—cliche, but it works; an uncomfortably disgusting version of hair theory unfolding in front of your eyes—and discreetly chug wine when you twist away to grab a new toy. a series of pale pink vibrators, nipple clamps. mundane depravity for what's shaping up to be a lacklustre night.

but the money that pours in from these little shows (adult version of classic party games—hide and seek, would you rather, truth or dare) is one step closer to erasing your debts. student loans. car payments. rent. you smile so wide it aches, and put your best face on when you blink, coquettish and coy, at the camera where nameless, faceless men throw money in a ring for a scrap of your attention.

tonight's game is Simon Says. and it's supposed to be normal. boring.

but a message from a viewer named Simon (in a sea of many who cheekily changed their usernames to match the theme of the game) stands out.

Simon says... go lock your door.

you blink. between all of the Simon Says touch yourself for me baby, pull your shirt down, lemme fuck you for real it sticks out. a change in the routine.

you huff, pouting. "already did that, Simon. c'mon, gimme something else to do, honey."

another one pops up. Simon says... you shouldda got a dog.

your brows furrow. "that's not part of the game, Simon. i'm gonna move on—"

Simon says... open your door.

he's paying you handsomely. dropping coins, large amounts of money, for each message to shoot to the top. little superchats. why he isn't taking advantage of it and paying you to do something sexy, something lewd, unnerves you. your heart starts to race, thudding against your ribs almost painfully.

it's fine, you think. he's just a creep. a loser. "uh huh, not part of the game, Simon. i'm afraid i'm gonna have to cut you off—"

you block him. they don't normally get under your skin like this. ever. at all. even when they throw random names in your dms, hoping one of them happens to be yours, and try to blackmail you to your fake friends and family. it doesn't bother you as much as this. as him. get a dog. how absurd.

the next series of chats pass without the same odd comments. take your bra off, but leave the robe on. act coy, like you don't want to—

creeps, you think, in their own right. but. paying ones. so, you smile. stiff. uncomfortable. grinning so wide it hurts. pretending to ignore the strange unease growing in your guts. your eyes sliding back to the superchats saved in a glowing log. let me in. a troll. whatever. it's nothing. nothing. you'll drink wine after this, scrub your skin raw in the shower and buy yourself something pretty with the money these greasy losers threw your way—

Simon says... let me in.

you feel your heart in your throat. it can't be him. you blocked him. you have mods to keep trolls out of your chats, but wonder—hopefully—if maybe it failed. maybe they found your stream are just being weird. strange. but when you check, the filters are on. he's a registered user. paid the premium to watch you. to get an invite to your special game nights. it makes it worse, you think, that he paid to be here. to do this.

your hand shakes. you block this user, too, ignoring the discomfort churning inside your chest. the fear spiking along the nape of your neck. hair raising. there's a prickle on your skin. the feeling of being watched

no. it's fine. you're fine—

"ah, what else should i do, Simon?" you ask your viewers, pulling on another smile. one that hurts. aches. wobbles around the edges. you'll end the stream in a few minutes. order Thai food. drink yourself stupid. take the day off tomorrow. use this creeps money and waste it. blow it on something stupid. dumb. laugh about it with your friends.

your shoulders dip. the tension easing. you're fine. you're at home. the door—

you locked it. right? you definitely, absolutely, locked it when you brought in the package from the delivery driver. the massive, hulking man who loomed in your doorway, too wide, even, to fit inside, and growled out in a low, brassy timbre: sign 'ere. you took the pen, pretending he wasn't drilling holes into you with his gaze, eyes liquid in the dark. intense. wanting. and then scurried inside—

back pressed against the door, hands wrapped around the lingerie set.

you glance at the chat. "which Simon bought me this cute set? i'd like to thank them personally," you murmur, forcing your shoulders to drop. it's fine. you live in the middle of nowhere. no one is coming to your door.

there's no takers in the chat. you shift on the chair, licking your lips. "it's really cute, Simon. a perfect size, too, and i just—"

something catches your eye in the corner of the monitor. a movement. a slight shift. a whisper of fabric. you tilt your chin, peering into the hazy black reflection.

what you're looking at doesn't make any sense. your bedroom door is open. a curtain of black drapes over the wall where the pale strip of light doesn't reach.

the washroom light is still on, a yellow spill illuminating the hallway, but nothing is there. no one is in the hall. but you know you closed your door. you always do when you stream. your heart trips over itself. leaps to your throat. you almost choke on it—

another bubble pops up. Simon says... hey. uh, who is that guy behind you?

there's a ringing in your ears. your hair stands on end. something moves again. the black mass wasn't a shadow. it moves. takes shape. the covered head nearly reaches your ceiling, body filling the entirely of your room. massive. a mountain you remember thinking. a fucking mountain, you texted your friend. thighs the size of tree trunks—

a hand reaches out, grabs hold of your power bar. thick gloved fingers curling over the button. in the bluegreen glow of your computer screen, a man steps out.

"glad y'liked it, pet." the deep, brassy drawl sends shivers down your spine. you try to scream, mouth opening wide to choke it out, yell for help—

your chat bubbles up, feverish in their excitement. you skin through the messages, stomaching churning as it clicks in your head. their rabidness isn't about saving you, but—

(omg he's gonna fuck her pron??? we're getting pron????? no fucking wayyyyy god i wish it were me—)

this isn't a fucking bit, you morons, you want to howl. call the fucking police—

but he gets there first. two strides. it happens in a blink. the screen goes back and he's on you in seconds.

you're not even sure how someone so big, so heavy, could move that quietly—

"ah-ah, none o'tha' now," his hand curls around your neck, tight. choking. you try to fight but he just huffs, breathing in deep, chest expanding across your spine as his other hand snakes around your waist, trapping you against a corded forearm. he bends down, nuzzles his jaw into your crown. coos:

"Simon says... turn around for me pretty girl, an' be good, now. went through all this trouble t'find you. think i deserve a little reward—"

[baelarys]

𝘾𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙣

Aemond targaryen x Reader wife Velaryon

Word count: 1779

Warning: Fluff

Pt2 pt3 pt4

"Mommy! Vaera has my dress," little Vaerys complained, clinging to your skirt with the determination of someone seeking justice in her small, childish world.

"That's not true," Vaera retorted, her tone indignant, her voice reflecting the restlessness she also showed in her constant fidgeting as you tried to braid her hair.

"Vaera, stay still," you ordered her softly but firmly, your skilled hands deftly moving through her golden locks. Despite her agitation, your skill did not waver, and soon an impeccable braid began to form.

"Sweetheart, what you're wearing is very pretty too," you tried to negotiate with the little platinum-haired girl who was still clutching your dress.

"But I want it to be pink," insisted Vaerys, her lower lip trembling in a pout you knew all too well.

You sighed, knowing there would be no peace until the little one's wishes were fulfilled. "Alright," you relented, gesturing to one of your ladies-in-waiting. She hurried to tend to the twins, swapping their dresses with the efficiency born of routine. Meanwhile, your hands briefly rested on your swollen belly, caressing it with deep, protective love.

The sound of the doors opening behind you interrupted the moment, and you turned just in time to see Aerion, your only son, standing in the doorway. "Mommy," he called softly, almost hesitantly.

A gasp escaped your lips at the sight of your son. Your hands flew to your mouth, trying to contain the shock. The beautiful platinum and golden hair that used to fall in soft waves to Aerion's shoulders had disappeared, crudely cut. His face was smeared with smoke and dirt, as if he had been in the midst of a battle.

“Aerion, for the love of the gods, what happened?” you exclaimed, crossing the distance between you in an instant. You took your son by the shoulders, examining his face with concern as you searched for answers in his eyes.

One of the knights who had escorted Aerion to the room remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floor as if the shame was a weight he could not bear.

“What happened?” you insisted, your voice firm, seeking answers in the knight’s face.

The knight cleared his throat before responding, his voice full of a mixture of respect and concern. “Prince Aerion decided to escape from his training and ventured into the pit where Vhagar and Silverwing rest. We managed to pull him out of there before the dragon’s fire consumed him, but his hair caught fire in the process, and the maester decided to cut it to prevent further damage.”

He finished speaking with his gaze once again fixed on the ground, as if each word added more weight to his shoulders.

Before you could respond, Aerion quickly intervened, noticing the displeasure forming on your face. “But the maester said it will grow back!” he exclaimed with the desperation of a child seeking absolution, his large, anxious eyes searching yours.

You gestured for the guard to leave, and he obeyed with a bow before exiting the room. Then, you pressed your lips together, trying to stay calm as a storm of fear and anger swirled within you. The danger Aerion had exposed himself to was no small matter; the fact that he had emerged practically unscathed was a miracle. However, his recklessness could not be ignored or overlooked.

You took Aerion’s face in your hands, gently wiping the dirt from his cheeks, your gaze firm and worried. “Aerion,” you began, trying not to let your voice tremble with emotion, “we’ve talked about this before. Dragons are not pets. You cannot approach them as if they were dogs.”

“But I just wanted to see them,” your son responded in a whisper, his eyes fixed on the ground. Guilt weighed in his voice, and yet there was still a trace of his childish stubbornness. “I’m sorry, really,” he added, stepping forward and wrapping his small arms around your waist, seeking comfort and perhaps a way to avoid the punishment he feared.

You sighed, feeling the warmth of his embrace, but not letting it distract you from what needed to be said. “I know, my love, and I believe you. But you must understand that you cannot do this again. Dragons are powerful and dangerous creatures. I don’t want to lose you to a mistake.” With tenderness, you tilted your head and placed a gentle kiss on his head.

With the same softness, you pulled away slightly from him. “Now, go clean yourself up,” you ordered in a tone that left little room for objections.

One of your ladies-in-waiting approached and took Aerion’s hand with the usual deference, guiding him to the bath to prepare him for cleaning. As you watched them leave, you let out a slight groan of pain as you felt the baby in your womb give small kicks, reminding you of their presence with an energy that could not be ignored.

The door opened again, and as you looked up, you saw your husband, Aemond, who gave you a warm smile upon seeing you. There was a familiarity and affection in his gaze that always managed to calm your spirit. Carefully, he placed his sword on the table before approaching you, his presence filling the room with a tranquility only he could offer.

“Daddy!” Vaerys exclaimed with excitement, breaking the brief moment of silence. Without hesitation, the little girl jumped into her father’s arms, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck with the absolute confidence of a child who knows they will always be received with love.

Aemond lifted her effortlessly, holding her against his chest as his face softened even more. “And how is my little warrior today?” he asked playfully, as Vaerys laughed, delighted by her father’s attention.

Meanwhile, Vaera, who had remained silent, looked at her sister with bright eyes, waiting her turn to be hugged. With a gesture that showed Aemond’s natural skill in handling the dynamics between his children, he extended his other arm to draw Vaera to his side as well.

“Look at my dress,” Vaerys exclaimed, raising her arms to proudly show off her pink dress, waiting for her father's approval.

Aemond, always attentive to the details that mattered to his daughters, smiled and nodded appreciatively. “It’s a beautiful dress, Vaerys,” he commented with warmth that made the little girl’s eyes shine.

Not wanting to be left out, Vaera quickly interjected, spreading the folds of her own dress. “Look at mine too!” she proclaimed, her voice filled with a mix of enthusiasm and expectation.

Aemond placed a loving kiss on Vaerys’s cheek, then another on Vaera’s cheek, making sure both felt his affection equally. The twins, satisfied with their father’s attention, moved away with playful laughter, their pink dresses fluttering as they disappeared into their own world of games and giggles.

Your husband approached you with a tenderness he only showed during the most intimate moments. Gently, he placed his hand on your swollen belly, caressing it with the same devotion he showed each day, as if already attuned to the new family member who was about to arrive.

“You look worried,” he murmured, his voice filled with concern as he pressed his forehead against yours, a gesture you shared when seeking comfort in each other’s closeness. “What’s wrong?”

The warmth of his skin and the familiarity of his touch reassured you, but the emotions you had been holding back began to surface. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting his presence calm your thoughts before you responded.

“It’s Aerion,” you confessed in a whisper, feeling the worry still weighing on your heart. “Today, he ran off and got too close to Vhagar and Silverwing. He almost… I can’t bear to think about what could have happened.”

“He’s a brave boy,” Aemond said, his voice soft but with the firmness of someone who understands the complex nature of his son. “I’ll talk to him.”

You nodded, knowing that Aemond, with his patience and wisdom, was the best person to guide Aerion in these moments. As the weight of your worry began to lift, you allowed yourself a moment of vulnerability, resting your head against Aemond’s chest. The steady beat of his heart beneath your ear was a reassuring reminder of the strength and stability you always found in him.

Sensing your need for closeness, Aemond wrapped you in a warm embrace, his arms surrounding you with a tenderness that always surprised you, contrasting with his usual sternness. In that moment, the outside world, with all its worries and challenges, seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you, connected in a silence full of understanding.

“You need to relax,” Aemond murmured, his voice caressing the air as gently as his hand moved up and down your back. The gesture was comforting, almost hypnotic, as if he wanted to erase the accumulated tension from every muscle in your body, leading you to a state of deep calm.

The warmth of his touch and the firmness with which he held you sent a wave of tranquility through you. You rested your head against his chest, letting yourself be carried by the steady rhythm of his breathing, which slowly synchronized with yours. You could feel his strength and protection enveloping you, offering you a refuge where you could rest without reservations.

“I’m here,” Aemond continued, his voice low, almost a whisper, resonating in your ear like an unbreakable promise. “You don’t have to carry all this weight alone. Together, we can handle anything.”

His words, laden with a love that didn’t need to be expressed with grand gestures, comforted you in a way that few things could. It was a reminder that, despite everything you faced, you weren’t alone in this journey. Aemond was by your side, sharing not only the joys but also the burdens that life imposed on you.

You felt his fingers tracing gentle circles on your back, a simple gesture that spoke of his desire to see you relaxed and at peace. Each caress seemed to take away a bit of the tension you had accumulated, and in response, you held onto him a little tighter, letting his presence envelop you completely.

“Thank you,” you murmured, barely a whisper, but enough for him to hear. You lifted your gaze to meet his eyes, those eyes that always offered you the certainty that, no matter what came your way, you would face it together.

[spider-stark]

EVERYTHING

Kaz Brekker x Reader

Summary - Kaz Brekker doesn't make any sense—and trying to understand him is getting to be exhausting.

Warnings - fem!reader, reader worked at a brothel, subtle hints at past abuse, some major dog / master symbolism idfk, mentions of blood/weapons, close proximity, could deviate some from canon, based more on book!kaz than show, NOT EDITED SO IF THERE'S A TYPO IDK

Word Count - 3.8k

!MINORS DNI!

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

“Touch me.” 

You’ve only just slipped inside Kaz Brekker’s room at the Slat, and you’re convinced you’ve misheard him. The door’s still cracked, after all—and the mindless clamor of those playing cards down in the foyer is loud enough to play tricks on anyone’s ears. 

You push the door shut, habit making you click the lock into place before spinning around to face him. “Pardon?” 

The lanterns burn low, dim light chasing shadows across the spacious attic. Kaz stands over by his desk, leaning his weight against the edge in lieu of his cane. He’s dragging a gloved hand through his hair, looking uncharacteristically flustered. 

“Don’t act like you didn’t hear me,” he snaps. 

Your laugh comes out breathy and awkward. “We both know I’m a shit actor, Brekker.” 

It’s why you’re never picked when the Dreg’s need a decoy—some girl to saddle up next to a sleazy merchant or another hapless mark, distracting them with batted lashes and a well-timed hand on their thigh. In Jesper’s words, you’re so socially inept that you’d probably blow the operation before it even got started.

To your dismay, Kaz doesn’t repeat himself. With his gaze carefully pinned to the tops of his black boots, he demands, “Why are you here?” 

Your brow quirks. “At the Slat?” 

“In my room.” 

The answer eludes you. Why did you come up here? It’s not like tonight was the first time Dirtyhands has ever skipped out on playing Blackjack with the rest of the group, and yet he’d caught your attention when he slipped from the foyer and went limping up the stairs. 

Then again, that’s not so surprising. Kaz always catches your eye, doesn’t he? 

In the year since you joined the Dregs, you’d earned an unfortunate nickname for yourself around the Barrel: The Bastard’s Pet. Wherever Kaz Brekker goes, you’re sure to be hot on his heels, following after him like a dog, loyal and clingy. 

You tell yourself it’s because that’s your job—to keep Kaz safe, to watch his six. But the devil’s got eyes in the back of his head, and you know Kaz Brekker doesn’t really need protection. 

So, it begs the question: Why are you here? In his room, at the Slat, as a member of the Dregs? Why does he keep you around? 

Unsure of the answer, you simply avoid giving one. 

“You should play games with them sometimes,” you tell him, giving a subtle nod over your shoulder. Their voices are muffled now, but you can still hear everyone downstairs exchanging jeers as they shuffle another round. “It makes you look like a recluse, always sneaking off to be by yourself.” 

Kaz drums one finger against the desk. It’s an erratic beat, following no set rhythm. “I am a recluse,” he grinds out. 

You almost snort. Clearly. 

It’s not like anyone joins a gang with the hopes of making friends—and none of the Dregs are dumb enough to think they’ll find a buddy in the infamous Dirtyhands, anyway. Still, you don’t think it’d kill him to try being a little more sociable. 

The others would like having him around. 

You like having him around. 

“I’ll ask one more time.” Dark eyes flick up, heavy as stones when they land on yours. Suddenly, the large attic feels awfully claustrophobic. “Why are you here?” 

A lie comes easily enough, slipping right through your teeth. 

“I got bored playing,” you tell him. “And Jesper’s cheating, anyway.” 

“They’re all cheating,” Kaz points out. 

“But Jesper’s bad at it,” you argue. Lifting a shoulder, you add, “It ruins the fun.” 

His finger falls still against the desk, ceasing its rhythmless beat. Warm light flickers all around him, dark shadows dancing over the harsh angles of his face. You watch his jaw tick, note the subtle curl of his upper lip. You’re overcome with the distinct feeling that you’re staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. 

Probably because you are. 

You’ve seen this face before. Been the one to clean the bloody mess left behind by whoever was unfortunate enough to find themselves on the receiving end of it. Now, as the one standing in the line of fire, you feel your stomach start to twist. 

You tell yourself it’s dread. Anxiety for what’s to come. 

“From where I was standing,” Kaz grinds out, his stare unflinching, “you looked to be having plenty of…” A sharp breath, his tongue gliding over pearly teeth. “Fun.” 

There’s something hidden in the word. A meaning that goes well beyond its dictionary definition. Is it a challenge? A dare, maybe? Or—perhaps the most unlikely of the options—some sort of plea? 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” you ask, finally daring a step closer, slowly drifting from the closed door. 

Kaz shakes his head. “It means what it means.” 

As you draw closer, he moves around the desk and takes a seat. He stretches his bad leg out in front of him, mindlessly rubbing a hand down toward his knee. It’s always bothering him by this point in the night. 

“Go back downstairs.” An order—not a suggestion. 

Across from him now, you place both palms on his desk. The smooth wood is cool against your skin, though the rest of you feels impossibly warm. It’s a side effect of standing too close to him, you think. The flushed cheeks and the vice around your lungs, always leaving your mind fuzzy and your pulse erratic. 

You hate him for it, sometimes. For the effect he has on you. 

“Why?”  you ask, riding out your little bold streak. “So you have a reason to gripe some more about me having fun?” 

“I’m not griping,” Kaz shoots back, very evidently griping. 

“Griping, carping, quibbling, or complaining—doesn’t matter how you word it, all of 'em fit you to a T right now, Brekker.” 

He’s not looking at you anymore, focused instead on the swirling patterns of the wood grain or the neat stack of papers or anything else that gives him an excuse to keep his head low. A month or so after you joined the Dregs, Kaz told you that you had a talent for getting under his skin. Maybe that’s why you don’t need to be able to see his face to know just how annoyed he looks. 

“Go downstairs.” 

“I will,” you vow. “After you explain what you meant.” 

Frustrated, he insists, “There’s nothing to explain.” 

“What did you say when I came in?” 

“Go downstairs.” 

You throw your hands up. “If you won’t tell me what you said, then at least explain why ‘fun’ is such a problem!” 

“Go. Down. Stairs.” 

“Make me.” 

Wood screeches, the chair flying back as he shoots to his feet. The stiffness in his leg makes the movement a little clumsy, and you don’t miss the subtlest flash of a wince before he leans against the desk. 

“Do you know why I brought you in?” 

For a moment, it’s all you can do to blink at him. Because, no—you don’t know why Kaz offered you a place with the Dregs. 

You’re not a sharpshooter like Jesper or a trained Grisha like Nina, not as smart as Wylan or as silent as Inej. You’re decent when it comes to sleight-of-hand and slightly above average with a blade, but even those skills are ones you’ve only learned since joining the gang. 

Back when you first met Kaz, you were nothing and no one. An unlucky girl roped into an indenture with Pekka Rollins, forced to work out of the Sweet Shop—the nastiest, most dangerous brothel in all of Ketterdam. 

“Because you’re secretly a big softie with a heart of gold?” You hope your sarcasm is enough to mask the twinge of shame brought on by your past. 

But Kaz is too good for that. Nothing gets past him—evident by the tiny wrinkle of concern that forms between his dark brows, instantly picking up on the faint dip in your tone. 

Fortunately for you, being observant doesn’t equate to being consoling, and so he doesn’t mention it. 

“Because you didn’t make me sick,” he answers, low and even. You’re not so sure if it’s an insult or compliment, and before you get a chance to ask, Kaz continues, “It was late. And raining. I’d just finished teaching a Razorgull lackey what happens when you breach parley. He was a real bleeder—made a mess of my suit. I ended up leaving him for Jesper to deal with. Thought I’d avoid eyes by sticking to the shadows, walking in the alleys behind the brothels.” Your eyes must be betraying you, because you almost think that’s a smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “Imagine my surprise when a runaway harlot nearly knocked a helpless cripple like me off his feet.” 

You bite your cheek, still deciding if you want to slap him for calling you a harlot or laugh in his face. In spite of his limp and cane, Kaz Brekker is far from what you’d consider helpless. 

“So, what? You had me join the Dregs because I nearly bulldozed you in an alley?” That whole night was spotty for you, the panic you’d felt having rendered your memory foggy and incomplete. 

“Inej had told me about you,” Kaz says. “That Pekka Rollins got a new girl—an escape artist, always trying her luck at running away.” 

You didn’t know that, but maybe you should have. Inej isn’t the best spider in the Barrel without reason. She knows everything—and all she knows is reported directly to Kaz. Even so, you’re not sure you’re catching his point with all this. 

As if he can see you trying to mentally connect the dots, Kaz says, “Maybe I had another purpose in walking behind those brothels. Maybe I wanted to see just how quick on her feet Pekka Rollins’ escape artist was.” His head tilts slightly. “Or maybe I just didn’t want anyone to see me when I wasn’t looking my best. Either way, I left that alley knowing you’d be a part of my crew.” 

Your memory of that night may be spotty, but the one after is still crystal clear. A Suli spider had crawled through your window at the Sweet Shop, told you that Per Haskell was willing to pay a very hefty sum to buyout your indenture if you agreed to work for the Dregs. To this day, you’re still unsure of how Kaz managed to convince him you were worth it—or why he bothered. 

“You’re not making any sense, Brekker,” you admit, rubbing at your temple. A headache burrows there, seeming to grow worse with every minute. “Is that why you wanted me for the Dregs, then? Cause I’m… fast?” 

It sounds stupid. It is stupid. 

You’re no faster than anyone else—and you certainly hadn’t been fast enough to outrun Pekka Rollins’ goons. Everytime you made a run from the Sweet Shop, they dragged you right back, kicking and screaming the whole way. 

“No.” Kaz sighs. Drags a hand through his hair, tugging at the dark locks. “I wanted you-”

Kaz doesn’t finish that thought. 

A violent CRASH! steals your attention. Both of your heads snap toward the closed door, listening intently for any sign of danger.

Instead, you hear Jesper’s boisterous cackle chime. Wylan starts shouting about something indiscernible—vase, shattered, and moron among the words you catch.

A smile sneaks up on you. 

But, when you turn back to Kaz, it’s promptly wiped away. 

He looks like he’s had a lemon rind forced into his mouth, scowling at the door. “What’s going on with you and Van Eck?” 

You blink. “What?” 

“You heard me.” 

You did—but hearing him is a far stretch from understanding him, and it’s seemed like Kaz has been talking in circles since you came in. What’s Wylan have to do with any of this? 

“I don’t get what you’re asking.” 

“Stop making me repeat myself.” 

“Then stop being so confusing, Brekker!” you huff, crossing your arms. “I don’t understand-”

Kaz cuts you off with a look. Cold as death, he grinds out, “Are you fucking him?” 

Shock. Confusion. 

They course through you in equal measure, coupled with slight amusement. The latter must show on your face, because Kaz’s scowl deepens before he looks down at his desk, pretending to fiddle with something. 

“I have work to do,” he says stiffly. “Go downstairs.” 

Your feet stay firmly planted, the desk’s width all that separates the two of you. “Why would you think that?” 

Of all the assholes and degenerates in the Dregs, Wylan’s probably the closest you have to a real friend. It came with the territory—both of you having become newbies around the same time, trying to learn the ropes and fit in. 

You’re not fucking him, though. 

Kaz sinks back into his chair. His usually-squared shoulders curve slightly, as if some weight is pressing down on them. “Go downstairs.” 

“I thought you didn’t like repeating yourself?” you ask, almost taunting. 

“Go.” The word strains between his teeth. “Now.” 

For no good reason, you make a stand. Stare down the barrel of the gun, unafraid and unrelenting. How strange, you think. The tightness in your chest has never once been apprehension. 

It was excitement. Anticipation. 

You’ve always liked getting under his skin. Finding out what makes him tick, figuring out which words earn the sharpest glares. You want him to pull the trigger, if only because it means you have his attention—and like a dog waiting at its master’s feet, you could care less if it comes with an open hand or a closed fist. 

So long as it comes. So long as he notices you. 

“What did you say when I came in?” You uncross your arms, make yourself stand up tall. “Tell me.” 

Dark eyes shoot up. Kaz almost looks shocked, the dull echo of emotion creasing the lines of his face, parting his lips. You wait, but no sound comes out. 

Dirtyhands is used to giving orders. Not taking them. 

“You’ve heard what they say about me.” You wave a dismissive hand toward the shoddy window overlooking the Barrel. “Brekker’s Pet. Always with you, always following you around! Ask any sod in Ketterdam and they’ll say the same—the only way I’d have time to fuck someone is if you were in the room!” And even then, it wouldn’t be Wylan. 

A steel rod takes the place of Kaz’s spine, turning your words over in his head. “Fine. Maybe you haven’t,” he relents. “But you want to.” 

It’s a gamble. An unusually shitty one, at that. 

You blow out an exasperated breath. This whole thing is getting old. “Saints, Kaz. What’s your deal?” 

He opens his mouth. Shuts it. Then opens it again. 

“I saw you downstairs,” he says. “Touching Van Eck.” 

Your brows lift, fists clenching. You don’t know what you expected from him, but it certainly hadn’t been a bold-faced lie! 

But then you start thinking of the moments before you saw Kaz head upstairs, laughing and playing Blackjack before you folded your hand to follow after him. You’d been sitting cross-legged on the threadbare rug, wedged between Wylan and Raske, when you noticed—Shit. 

Kaz is right, and that makes you want to scream. Why is Kaz always right? 

It was after you noticed Jesper was cheating, that he’d poorly marked the deck with daub; a sticky, ash-colored substance. You’d leaned in close to point it out to Wylan—your hand against his forearm, your lips dangerously close to the Merchling’s ear. After he noticed the marks, you both exchanged quiet giggles over just how bad Jesper was at swindling. 

Still, there had been nothing sexual about it. Nothing between you and Wylan. 

But, even if there was, why would Kaz care? 

I saw you—touching Van Eck. His words race through your mind, pulsing in time with the dull ache in your temple. Touch me, touch me, touch me. 

All of a sudden, the fog begins to clear. Something in your memory clicks. 

That night behind the brothels—when you were running from the Sweet Shop, when Kaz had been drenched in the blood of some Razorgull. Barefoot and frantic, you really had almost knocked him off his feet. Gloved hands had held your arms tight, keeping you still. His hair had been messy and your mind a blur—and when you’d seen the crimson smeared across his cheek, you hadn’t thought twice before wiping it away. 

You’d done what so few have. You had touched Kaz Brekker, skin-on-skin. 

Because you didn’t make me sick. 

When you don’t speak, Kaz shifts in his chair. Straightens an already-neat stacks of papers. “You won’t try and deny it?” he asks. 

Maybe you imagine the quaver in his voice. Or maybe you don’t. 

Either way, you start around his desk. Your every step is slow—cautious. 

You stop beside him, and Kaz shifts again. You’re standing closer than you’d usually dare to get, so close that you can hear it when he swallows. 

“You should go downstairs,” he tells you, lower than before. 

Your head tilts, hair shifting over one shoulder. “Is that what you want?” 

His answer hides in silence so thick it’s a tangible presence. It curls around you, makes gooseflesh prickle along your skin. Your mouth feels dry, your stomach like it’s tied in knots. 

Suddenly, you don’t need him to repeat what he’d said. 

As always, Kaz was right—you'd heard him the first time. 

“Ask me again.” The words drip from your tongue, an order and a plea. “Ask me and I’ll do it.” 

Kaz gives you a look, one you’ve never seen before. Dark eyes rove over you, brimming with worry and stress and—and Saints, a sense of desire so strong it makes your toes curl in your boots, a feeling like lightning coursing up your spine. 

In a voice like stone on stone, raspy and urgent, Kaz breathes out, “Touch me.” 

So you do. 

You cup his face, graze your thumb over his cheekbone. Kaz stiffens, swallowing once more—but he doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t try to pull away. 

“You know, to be such a bastard,” you start, a note of teasing in your voice, “you’re awfully pretty, Brekker.” 

Heat blooms against your palm, a deep blush crawling over his pale cheeks. 

“Shut up,” Kaz grumbles. 

You grin. “Want me to go downstairs?” 

A gasp rips from your throat as a gloved hand clamps around your wrist, Kaz pulling you down toward him. Anxiety still tightens his features, but beneath it he looks all too pleased with himself when you stumble clumsily into his lap. 

For the sake of comfort, you adjust your legs—careful for his bad one—and settle your arms over his shoulders. Then, when it fully settles that you’re straddling Kaz-fucking-Brekker, it gets a lot harder to breathe. 

“Should I take that as a no?” It sounds like a pant, your lungs constricting. 

He lifts the hem of your shirt, the feel of leather cool against your skin as Kaz jabs a finger into your side. “Do I always have to repeat myself around you?” he asks. Dark eyes dip past your jaw, his tongue gliding over his lips. You don’t think he actually cares to hear your answer, which is good—because you’re pretty sure you just forgot how to speak. 

Kaz drags his finger up the curve of your waist, his touch tentative and featherlight. It feels a lot like being studied—the way his dark brows knit together, staring at you as if you’re a magic trick he’s yet to master, a puzzle he hasn’t quite figured out. 

“It’s not because you’re fast,” he says, somewhat distracted. It takes a minute for you to realize that he’s referring to your earlier question—Is that why you wanted me for the Dregs, then? 

“Good,” you manage. “Because I’m not.” 

The slightest twitch of a smile. “No.” He takes his time tracing over every divet in your ribs, slowly trailing up, up, up. “You’re not.” 

“But I didn’t make you sick.” You’re not prepared for the wave of sickness that comes with the reminder, stomach roiling. 

The Bastard’s Pet. Is that truly all you are? All you’re worth to the Dregs? Useless at saddling up next to sleazy merchants, but good enough to curl up at Kaz Brekker’s feet. 

As if he can read your mind, Kaz’s hand goes still against your side. “Wipe that sour look off your face, would you? If I only wanted you to touch me, I would’ve just come to the Sweet Shop instead of getting my ass chewed by Haskell.”

You wiggle just enough to knock one knee into his hip, glaring at him. Both of you pretend not to notice the catch in his breath—or the growing hardness straining against his trousers, pressed against your core. 

Gruff, Kaz continues, “You were in an alley and saw a man dripping with blood, and your first thought was to reach out and clean his cheek.” His head shakes, a strand of coal-black hair swaying near his temple. “It was ignorant,” he tells you. “And… decent. Innocent.” 

You almost laugh. Innocent. That’s hardly a word you’d use to describe yourself. Especially right now, your every muscle straining in an attempt to keep your hips perfectly still, hands folded at the base of his neck. 

“I didn’t know innocence like that could survive in the Barrel.” His hand starts again, tracing little shapes against your side. “Even if you never touched me again, I wasn’t gonna let Pekka Rollin’s crush someone like you between his grimy little fingers.” 

“So that’s the answer?” you ask, nibbling on your lip. “I’m in the Dregs cause I’m innocent?” What a reason to have someone join a gang. Hey, you seem pure! Wanna get corrupted? 

“You’re in the Dregs because you know how to persevere,” Kaz answers, holding your gaze. “How to get up and try again, no matter how many times you’re knocked down.” The sensation of smooth leather drifts higher. “Because you’re a survivor.” Your eyelids flutter, sucking in a breath as he palms the plump curve of your breast. “Because you’re loyal,” he starts, and it’s almost reverent the way he almost whispers, “my perfect little pet.” 

The world grinds to a halt. 

Outside of this room—this moment—nothing exists. 

Too quiet, you ask, “What do you want from me, Kaz?” 

You want him to feel in control, to be the one that decides how this is gonna go. But your self-restraint is a fraying cord, mere seconds from snapping in half. 

If it were up to you, how far would you go? How much of Kaz Brekker would you explore? As far as I could, you think, desperate. As much as he’d let me. 

That’s the trouble with dogs. They’re loyal and clingy, forgiving and insistent. They want for everything and take whatever they’re given. They’ll spend hours begging at your feet. Lick scraps from the floor until their tongues begin to bleed. 

When it comes to Kaz Brekker, you’ll take whatever he has to give. 

And you’ll never stop begging for more, more, more. 

“Everything.” His breath is warm against your lips, the leather cool on your breast. “I want everything.”

a/n - just in case anyone couldn't tell, i obviously just finished reading six of crows (yeah ik i'm very late to the party). i randomly started writing this while i was stuck in traffic and it just sort of spiraled over the past 24 hours and now here we are! this was born! idk if i'll get anymore kaz ideas, but it was fun writing something more dialogue heavy (dialogue has my heart<3)

[yandere-writer-momo]

Thinking about a yandere werewolf, but not just any werewolf… a bounty hunter. And he has it bad for his you. Cowboy Werewolf!

Yandere Shorts: Like I Love You

Yandere werewolf x fem reader

TW: obsession, delusional themes, abo dynamic, horror, gore (mentioned), death of characters, neglectful husband, betrayal, cheating husband, forced relationship, mention of baby trapping, and behavior that should not be romanticized

Rolfe was currently on a hunt… his target is a sickly preacher’s, one that should be easy enough. Her own husband had paid him quite the pretty penny to off her. Poor little lamb didn’t stand a chance in the wilderness of this world. Not when she had enemies close to her side such as an unfaithful husband and a conniving best friend. He almost felt sorry for his prey

He arrived a day later, his clawed fingers dragged through a lock of her hair as he inhaled her scent. She smelled… delicious. And she was so vulnerable too with her nape out that just begged for his teeth to be driven into…

Rolfe shook his head before he went back into a trance when she subconsciously leaned into his touch. His hand moved up and grazed her temple that felt as if it were ablaze. Poor woman had a fever…

“Darling? Did you finally come to me?” Her voice was a bit delirious with sickness as she kissed his hands. Each kiss made him feel as if he was her beloved. It took everything in him not to loudly whine like a dog. “I missed you so much James. I’m sorry I got sick again.”

Rolfe didn’t say a word before he continued to drag his rough palms through her hair. His heart hammered in his chest and his wolf clawed inside his brain to be released. It seemed this woman before him… was his fated mate.”

Rolfe bent down and buried his nose into the crook of her neck to deeply inhaled. Oh yes… this lassy was his for the takin.

Rolfe began to slowly nurse her back to health rather than off her. An action that made his employer question him. Why on earth would a monster nurse such a nuisance back to health? She was always near death’s door. What use was such a delicate woman in the Wild West?

“When are you going to off (your name)? She’s an easy target.”

“I have honor as a bounty hunter. It must be a hunt.” Rolfe snarled at (your name)’s husband, James, the man who dared to keep her sick due to his lack of care. Had that scrawny man have no pride as a man? The pastor made him sick.

“She’s easy to pick off right now. I’d really like this to be over and done with so I can marry Helen. This is why I hired a monster-“ Rolfe picked James up from the ground by his throat as James gasped for air.

“You are a foolish, greedy man. Are you sure you are truly a man of god?” Rolfe growled, showing his fangs. His dark, muscular form largely towered over James’s lithe frame. “You’re a pathetic man.”

Rolfe soon went back to the care of (your name). The werewolf rubbed his cheeks all over her bed and her body to scent her… he needed to get rid of James’s scent. Rolfe wouldn’t let another have her and hurt her again… he’d spirit her away.

Rolfe wondered how many pups she’d want. If they’d be pretty like her but strong like him… if she’d pepper him with nips and kisses everyday. If she’d beg him for his knot on the next full moon as he properly mated her?

“Darling?” (Your name) reached for his face and Rolfe was quick to put his face in them. A needy whine escaped his throat while he nuzzled her. She was his precious mate…

He snarled when he saw Helen enter. The woman scoffed at him in disgust.

“Ugh. James and I are tired of waiting. You have been here over a month! We want you gone beast. We’ll do it ourselves.”

“So you’re cancelling the contract?” He hummed while he continued to tenderly kiss (your name)‘a palms. “Are you sure? Did you read the fine print?”

“Yes. We don’t need your kind here, true love will prevail-“ Helen didn’t even have time to scream before a giant black wolf hybrid had dug it’s fangs into her throat and ripped it apart like wrapping paper. Blood splattered all over the floor and walls as Helen could only helplessly choke on her own blood.

“Yes… true love will prevail.” He muttered with a a satisfied hum. “My mate will be so happy.”

Meanwhile, James fled into the forest for dear life. That beast had gotten Helen! The two of them couldn’t believe the werewolf would turn on him.

James loudly leapt when he heard something large chase him through the underbrush on all fours. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears and feel his sweat pool down his back in puddles. He needed to get to the church! A demon such as the bounty hunter couldn’t possibly enter there-

But James was knocked to the ground as an agonized shriek fell from his lips. The werewolf began to shake and mangle his leg like the bloodthirsty beast it was…

“Let me go! Let me go! I didn’t do anything-“

Rolfe chuckled darkly. The black werewolf dropped his legs and glanced his beastly head at James. “Oh but she never did anything either… all she did was foolishly love you.”

“W-what do you mean? Are you talking about-“ James’s words were muffled by the paw like hand that covered his mouth. Rolfe shushed him.

“Shhh. You may have failed to pay me and cancel my contract but I had gotten something far more valuable from this transaction. Something most werewolves dream to find in their lifetimes… a fated mate!” Rolfe sighed dreamily. “You may have failed as a protector and provider, but I surely won’t! You have given me something more valuable than any coin could offer… yet you were neglectful to her. Such a shame really.”

“I… I’ll do anything! Just take her and let me live.”

“Ah but I can’t do that. Not when she still calls for you at night. No… you have to be eliminated. Destroyed, really. You can no longer exist on the same planet as her! You are in the way of my love!”

Loud screams of terror ringed out throughout the crisp night air and then it was silence.

Rolfe returned hours later scrubbed clean of blood while he crawled into the bed with his darling mate. He sighed in contentment when she cuddled him. Yes… it may take time to train her properly, but he was sure he could do it. He could make her love him. Just like he loved her.

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗬𝗢𝗨'𝗥𝗘 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗘

　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N is a ray of sunshine, and Matt is her dose of grumpness.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by @httpsm4tti

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

"Get out."

Y/N smiled as she heard Matt's short and authoritative voice echo through the walls of their shared room.

"Hi baby, are you okay?"

Matt lifted his head instantly, pulling his attention away from the computer screen in front of him and toward the door, where his girlfriend was standing.

A tray was resting securely in her open palms as a teasing gaze looked back at him.

A sigh escaped his lips, and Y/N knew it wasn't because he was stressed about seeing her but rather completely relieved. His tense posture gradually eased, and his frown dissolved, giving way to a calming stance.

"What are you doing here, petal?" Matt's tone came out soft, his hands leaving the keyboard and resting on his gray sweatpants covered thighs.

"You've been locked in here for hours. I haven't seen you get out to eat or drink anything until now..." Y/N began, starting her quick steps towards the brunette. "And since I know you're on a task to answer every email sent to the channel, I decided to bring you some snacks and drinks." A big smile spread across her face, her hands working on resting the tray on the empty space of his desk.

Matt glanced briefly at the contents on the wooden surface, fighting back a smile as he noticed all of his favorite snacks, plus a handmade sandwich and a can of rootbeer.

"You didn't need to do all this, sweetheart." The boy brought his blue orbs back to his girlfriend, his right hand coming up and resting on her hip lightly, gently stroking the covered skin.

"Anything for you, my love."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The sound of the door to his shared room with Y/N opening ​​echoed through Matt's ears. The boy was in the kitchen preparing breakfast for himself and his girlfriend, the sun's rays streaming through the living room's large windows serving as his only source of lighting.

Y/N's muffled and quick footsteps sounded through the small hallway that led to where he was.

The boy didn't need to turn around to know that she was now standing behind him, probably just the large wooden table separating them.

"Good morning, baby!" Y/N's voice was like music to his ears, and Matt found himself wondering how she could be so happy at this time of the day, a small "morning" escaping his lips in response. "You won't believe the dream I had."

A smile almost imperceptibly appeared on the right corner of Matt's lips, the kind of smile that only Y/N was capable of eliciting from him.

The boy turned around with Y/N's favorite mug in one hand and a small plate with flowers drawn on it in the other, both containing coffee with a dash of milk and waffles with honey, just the way his girl liked.

The brunette placed them both on the surface in front of the seat that Y/N had already designated as hers, picking up his own plate and mug before sitting down in front of her.

"Nick and I were at this different theater, and we were going to watch a horror movie, which already started out weird because we know how much he hates horror movies..." Y/N started quickly, pausing momentarily to take a bite of her waffle, a hint of honey smearing the corner of her mouth. "But the weirdest thing was that the movie wasn't horror. It only had two main characters, and they rode horses the whole time. And then, out of nowhere, they adopted a mute dog and a blind cat, which were the cutest little things I've ever seen..."

The girl kept going, her voice changing intonation with each word while her expressions moved quickly, her free hand gesturing while her other hand held her waffle tightly, taking bites from time to time.

Matt remained silent, a serious - but relaxed - expression took over his face, while his mouth slowly chewed the pieces of his own toast, nodding his head every now and then, showing to her that he was paying attention, just like everyday.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

To outsiders, the scene unfolding there seemed to be amusing.

Y/N, with a big smile on her face and yellow flowing dress surrounding her, was quickly pulling a serious-looking Matt with completely black clothes, which covered almost his entire body.

"Come on, baby! There's an ice cream cart right there." The girl repeated the information that had already been given previously, pointing enthusiastically with the index finger of her free hand at the small pastel-colored cart on the other side of the street.

"I can see that." Matt muttered, feigning annoyance, but everyone who knew them knew how much he was loving it.

"Can I get a strawberry one? Please! Oh, and which flavor will you want? I know you love the chocolate one, but it's so nice to change things up sometimes." Y/N rambled, finally approaching the cart, smiling big at the salesperson in greeting. "So?"

"You can order anything you want for me." Matt surrendered, catching the intense gleam in his girl's eyes with his response before averting his own, fishing his wallet out of his pocket, ready to just make the payment and seat on a random wooden bench, looking forward to hearing her ramble about her week.

"Good afternoon! Can I have a strawberry one and a cream one, please?"

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"Baby, can you get me a Diet Coke? Please." Y/N briefly interrupted her conversation with Tara, looking at her boyfriend.

Matt was sitting next to Y/N on one of the couches at Tara's big 1 million party, his arms were crossed and his expression was serious - almost angry -, his eyes carried a steady gaze that circled around the people in the room, ignoring the screams and loud music, only his girl's voice echoing in his ears.

The brunette looked at her momentarily, nodding and leaning down slightly, sealing his lips on the side of her head gently before standing up, walking with firm steps towards the nearest bar.

It didn't take long, and soon the boy was returning to his previous spot, his hands balancing a can of Diet Coke and a can of Rootbeer.

His blue eyes almost instantly found the figure of his girlfriend, who was still talking to Tara, but now Nick was with them as well.

A small smile appeared on his lips as he watched her speak with so much passion, gesturing too much and changing her expressions too quickly.

But his own smile quickly fell when he saw a strange guy sitting in his previous seat, wrapping his arm over the back of the couch right behind Y/N's head and bringing his body closer to his girlfriend's, too close for his liking.

It was obvious that the guy knew Tara, as he immediately started talking to her, but his body language showed his interest in Y/N.

"Move. Now." Matt's serious and rude voice suddenly sounded as soon as he approached them, startling the small group. His eyes were fixed on the unknown boy, glaring at him.

His action brought small reactions from the others; Nick rolled his eyes, already used to his brother and his way of acting with everyone - except his girl. Tara raised her right eyebrow, her eyes traveling from the boy to Matt and back again.

But Y/N just smiled sincerely, ignoring the rudeness of his tone. Her eyes instantly lit up upon meeting her boyfriend and even more so upon seeing him holding her order.

"I won't repeat myself." Matt demanded, keeping his gaze steady on the guy, who quickly understood the message and got up from the couch, raising his hands in surrender before leaving.

Matt sat back down in the now empty space, handing his girl the Diet Coke before placing his arm right where the other boy's was, his fingertips caressing the exposed skin of her right shoulder.

He took advantage of Tara and Nick starting a new topic and brought his head closer to Y/N's, pressing his lips against her ear.

"You're mine, babe. Only mine."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"Are you ready, honey?" Y/N asked as she finished fastening her necklace around her neck, her eyes fixed on the mirror next to their closet in the room she shared with Matt.

"I just... I don't know which sneakers to wear." Matt's voice sounded tired, his brow furrowed as his eyes traveled over the extensive row of sneakers he owned.

The girl turned around, approaching him while throwing her hair over her shoulders, running her hands over the light pink dress that hugged her body just right.

The two were getting ready to go to the Snapchat event that would take place in a few hours, and as usual Matt always asked his girlfriend for some tips on one of the pieces he would wear for the day.

"Wear the white and blue Jordans. I like how they look on you." Y/N opined, pointing to the indicated pair, caressing his right bicep before turning around, crossing the already open bedroom door to check if Nick and Chris were ready.

The duo was lying on the sofa, both ready and using their respective phones, just waiting for the couple.

"Finally! If I knew how to drive, I would have left you two behind." Chris grumbled, adjusting his posture on the upholstery and putting his cell in his pants pocket.

"You still didn't learn to drive properly because you're lazy and too comfortable with me just driving your ass around." Matt's voice echoed behind Y/N, his figure leaving their room and closing the door behind him, his expression straight and his eyes carrying a serious gaze.

"Oh my God, you look handsome, baby! I knew Jordan would work out just fine." Y/N ignored the small fight between them, her eyes traveling over Matt's body, admiring his clothes despite them being simple and black - as always.

Matt rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance, but the traces of an almost non-existent smile appearing on the right corner of his lips while his cheeks took on a red hue said otherwise.

"Oh, how handsome you are, Matt." Nick joked, imitating Y/N's voice and fawning his right hand over his face, blinking his eyes repeatedly, earning a loud laugh from Chris and an amused smile from Y/N.

"Shut the fuck up. Get moving. Now!" Matt barked back, glaring at his brothers before finally approaching his girl.

He placed his left hand on the small of her back, gently guiding her to the stairs that led them to the garage, ready to go.

taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd @hearts4chris @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @sturniolho @ksskianshd @ccolleenn @sturniolo-lover1317 @soimightlikeoldmen69 @hrtyjy @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @iammattswife

(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[asoiaf-bambii]

𝔇eformed 𝔇og

summary: in a strained marriage of political convenience, you and Jacaerys Velaryon are often at odds. But when Jacaerys brings a small creature as a peace offering, something the ladies at court seemed to all enjoy, apart from his stubborn wife.

paring: jacaerys velaryon x reader

The sun had long since dipped beneath the horizon, casting the Red Keep in the soft hues of evening. The large stone walls of your chambers were bathed in the warm glow of flickering candles, but their gentle light did little to soothe the irritation that simmered just beneath your poised exterior. You sat on the edge of a chaise, your hands fidgeting with the intricate embroidery of your gown, your thoughts tangled in the heated exchange from weeks prior.

It wasn’t unusual for you and Jacaerys to argue. From the moment you were wed, it had been clear that your marriage was one of convenience, not affection. You, the daughter of a powerful magistrate from Pentos, had been brought into this foreign land with the expectation of securing an alliance. Jacaerys, heir to the Iron Throne, was burdened with the weight of responsibility and political machinations. Love, in this case, had never been part of the arrangement.

Your differences—cultural, personal, and otherwise—had been apparent from the start. Where you were bold, confident, and unapologetically sassy, Jacaerys was serious, driven by duty, and far too level-headed for your liking. You had been raised in the courts of Pentos, where wealth and power meant indulgence, and you had never been denied anything. The transition to life in Westeros had been jarring, to say the least.

A small sigh escaped your lips as you stared at the fire, the memory of your latest argument still fresh. It had been over something insignificant, as most of your disagreements were, but the wounds it left behind lingered. Jacaerys had tried to apologize, of course, sending flowers and trinkets to your chambers, but you had not been so easily swayed this time. You were stubborn, after all, and you were not one to let him off the hook that easily.

Just then, a knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. Before you could answer, the door creaked open, and Jacaerys stepped inside. In his arms was the strangest creature you had ever seen—a small, fluffy animal with large eyes and a squashed face. You narrowed your eyes at it, unsure whether it was meant to be some kind of dog or a rabbit.

“Is.. is that some sort of deformed bunny?” You asked, head tilted to the side as you state at the small mutt in the prince's arms.

Jacaerys’ smirk was apparent as he closed the door behind him. “A deformed bunny?” he teased, his voice rich with amusement. “I expected something more creative.”

You huffed and crossed your arms, refusing to meet his gaze. “I still think it looks more like a bunny than a dog,” you muttered, glancing at the animal in his arms. The creature gave a soft whine, wiggling its nose.

“I think you know very well that it’s a dog, and you’re just trying to annoy me,” Jacaerys countered, taking a few steps closer. There was a certain charm to the way he moved—graceful yet deliberate, as if he knew exactly how to play the game of diplomacy, even in your marriage.

When he reached you, he gently lifted the puppy toward you, but his other hand moved to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. The intimate gesture caught you off guard, but you refused to let it show. Instead, you shot him a pointed glare, though your heart stuttered at the sudden closeness.

“Or,” Jacaerys continued, his tone softening slightly, “perhaps there are no small dogs in Essos? You might be unfamiliar.”

You snorted, finally allowing yourself to look at him. “We have dogs in Pentos, Jacaerys. Large, beautiful ones. Not whatever this is,” you motioned to the puppy, though there was no real bite in your words. The creature was, admittedly, quite adorable.

Jacaerys chuckled, setting the puppy down on the chaise beside you. “This is a gift. I thought it might cheer you up since flowers didn’t seem to do the trick.” His voice was sincere now, and though you were still annoyed, you couldn’t help but soften a little at the thought. He was trying, at least.

The puppy immediately wriggled toward you, its tiny paws tapping against the velvet of the chaise. It nuzzled into your side, letting out a soft whimper as if begging for attention. You stared down at it for a moment, then reached out to scratch behind its ears.

“You think this will fix everything?” you asked, though your voice lacked its usual sharpness.

Jacaerys sighed, his smirk fading into a more serious expression. “No. I know it won’t. But I don’t like it when you’re angry with me.”

For a moment, you didn’t respond. The room was quiet except for the crackling of the fire and the soft sounds of the puppy. Your fingers continued to pet the small creature, and your eyes focused on the flames as you mulled over his words.

“I don’t like being angry with you either,” you admitted quietly, though the words felt foreign on your tongue. It wasn’t easy to admit vulnerability, especially not with him.

Jacaerys knelt in front of you, his brown eyes searching yours. “Then let’s stop fighting like this. I know we’ll never agree on everything, but I don’t want to spend our marriage at odds. We’re supposed to be a team, aren’t we?”

You raised an eyebrow, still hesitant to let go of your stubbornness completely. “A team?”

He nodded. “Yes. I know our marriage wasn’t exactly our choice, but that doesn’t mean it has to be miserable.”

For the first time in weeks, you felt a flicker of something other than frustration toward him. Perhaps it was the honesty in his voice or the way he looked at you now, as if he truly wanted to bridge the gap between you.

With a sigh, you finally relented. “Fine,” you muttered, though a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “But next time, don’t bring me a deformed rabbit.”

Jacaerys grinned, his eyes lighting up at the sight of your smile. “I’ll make a note of that.”

You reached for the puppy, lifting it into your lap as it licked your hand eagerly. “What is its name?” you asked, your tone now more playful.

“I thought I’d let you name it,” he replied, standing and moving to sit beside you on the chaise.

You hummed, considering for a moment. “How about... Bunny?”

Jacaerys groaned, though there was a laugh in his voice. “Of course you would.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, the tension between you eased, replaced by a sense of camaraderie. You still had your differences, and you probably always would. But at that moment, with the puppy—Bunny—in your lap and Jacaerys beside you, the future didn’t seem so daunting. Maybe, just maybe, this marriage could become something more than just an arrangement. 

[keerysfreckles]

superglue — steve harrington

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: when y/n is needed by steve and a middle schooler to fight an interdimensional dog

warnings: use of y/n, she/her pronouns, mentions of wounds and blood, some lines will not be accurate to the actual scene, possible spelling errors

a/n: back in my writing era specifically for my pookie aly @keerysbrowneyes <3 (going through my inbox asap i promise)

masterlist !

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

y/n loved steve.

her and steve have been the best of friends since the middle of second grade, when steve asked if he could have one of y/n's chocolate dipped marshmellows her mother packed her. how could seven year old y/n say no to eight year old steve's lopsided smile and missing front teeth.

ever since the two have been inseparable. throughout middle school and high school steve somehow managed to drag y/n into all of his antics and strange behavior.

in eighth grade steve managed to get her to go with him to egg the principals house as a dare. and in freshman and sophomore year he convinved her and his large group of friends to go skinny dipping while it was barely thirty degrees outside. (they all got frostbite and couldn't feel their fingers or toes for a solid week).

these reasons explain why him and some middle schooler were standing in front of y/n's red front door.

"why are we asking this girl for help? we could've been halfway down the train tracks right now!"

"will you relax? you said the more help we get the better the plan will be."

after three knocks on the door, it opens to reveal y/n with the most confused expression steve has ever seen on the girl.

she points to the kid, "why do you have a child with you? what-"

the child in question raises his hand to shake y/n's, catching her off gaurd.

"dustin henderson, pleasure. now we need to go," with that he walks back towards steve's parked car, making him deliver some form of an explanation.

y/n crosses her arms as steve finally responds.

"it's a very long story, but me and dustin need your help with something."

steve's big brown eyes lock with y/n's in a plead, as he flashes a dopey smile. she sighs, not questioning anything while slipping her shoes on to follow steve to his car.

steve taps the passenger seat window.

"what?" dustin asks.

"it's y/n's seat, get out."

"the hell? i was here first steve. make her sit in the back."

y/n chuckled at the boys' bickering, smiling proudly as dustin fussed even more while getting in the back seat.

"can one of you explain why you dragged me out of my house on this fine saturday?" y/n asked a few minutes into the drive, watching steve drive towards the woods near her house.

"we're baiting a monster to a junk yard," dustin deadpans as steve parks the car next to a set of train tracks.

y/n only laughs, but still gets out of the car, only to be met with steve and dustin pulling buckets of meat, gloves and backpacks out of the trunk.

"you can't be serious right now. there's no such thing as monsters," y/n chuckles again.

"just put some gloves on and help," dustin demands.

"only if you have proof of said monster."

"oh we'll have proof," steve replies. the slight waver in his voice confirms well enough for y/n not to take this lightly, as she grabs a bucket of meat in her gloved hands.

the trio started walking down the train tacks, y/n and steve stayed relatively close to each other, while dusting walked a few feet ahead of them.

"so what kind of monster are we baiting with all this meat?" y/n asks.

dustin stops and turns to the older teenagers before responding, "picture a dog. now add slime and teeth and gross viens and a long tail. oh and no face."

y/n simply nods, while dustin turns back around.

the trio walked a few feet again before steve starts a conversation with dustin.

"all right let me get this straight. you kept something you probably knew was dangerous just to impress some girl?"

"okay that's grossly oversimplifying things," dustin exaggerates.

"why would she like some slug anyway?"

"i thought you said it was a dog," y/n pipes up from behind the boys.

"it was a slug, but now it's a dog," dustin answers, before looking back towards steve, "and it's an interdimensional slug? cause it's awesome," he giggles.

"don't you think you're trying to hard? what if she doesn't even think the slug is cool?"

"not everyone can have your perfect hair all right?" dustin lets out a sight of defeat.

steve shakes his head, "it's not about the hair man. the key with girls is to act like you don't care. drives 'em nuts."

y/n can't help but roll her eyes as dustin asks, "even if you do care?"

"exactly."

"then what?" curiosity fills dustin's voice again.

"you uh, wait till you feel it," steve smirks.

"feel what?"

"y'know like before it's gonna storm, you'll feel this like, electricity."

dustin starts going on a small rant about electromagnetic currents, before steve cuts him off.

"no no no, like a sexual electricity. you feel that, that's when you make your move."

y/n can't believe her best friend was giving a twelve year old relationship advice. she starts zoning out, continuing to plop down chunks of meat every now and then on the weathered train tracks.

the boys in front of her continue their conversation.

"what type is y/n?"

steve looks behind him, noticing the girl is a bit farther behind them, "what about her?"

"well is she a ninja? lion? some other secret third option?"

"y/n's different. she's not like any other girl i've met. that's why she's my best friend."

"bullshit."

steve's caught off gaurd, "sorry, what? what's bullshit?"

"you two are way more than friends."

"oh yeah? how do you know that? you just met her today, and have some analysis on us?"

"well considering you've brought her up in almost every conversation we've had, wanted to go to her for help with dart, and now are calling her different from other girls. i'm just doing the math."

"yeah, well stop," steve deadpans, sighing as he looks back at the girl again.

a few minutes of silence goes by, as y/n now catches up to steve and dustin.

"faberge," steve blurts out.

both y/n and dustin's eyebrows furrow.

"what?" dustin asks.

"it's faberge organics."

y/n starts giggling from besides steve, knowing where this is probably going. in all eleven years of knowing steve "the hair" harringon, not once has she been told his secret hair care routine.

"use the shampoo and conditioner when your hair's damp, not wet okay?"

"not wet, damp," dustin repeats.

"then four puffs of farrah fawcett spray."

this makes y/n burst out laughing, making dustin join in as well.

"something funny to you?" steve turns, annoyed by his best friend.

y/n shakes her head, "no, no of course not. other than the fact you use a girl's hair styling products."

"you guys tell anyone i told you this," he points at both dustin and y/n, "your asses are grass, got it?"

they both nod, before dustin asks, "farrah fawcett, really?"

"i mean she's hot."

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

after what felt like forever, y/n, steve and dustin made it to the junkyard dustin was leading them to.

"good call dude," steve praises as y/n pats dustin on the back, making the boy smile.

they pile the rest of the meat into a large pile in the middle of the junkyard, when a new voice makes them look to the right.

y/n guesses it's some of dustin's friends, but he doesn't look happy about them being here.

dustin drags the other boy behind a red rusted car, while the girl walks over to y/n and steve.

"hey, i'm max," she holds out her hand.

"i'm y/n, and that over there is steve," max nods. "i think the plan is to grab any trash we can find to cover the windows on this bus, alright?"

with that the new trio quickly begin covering the bus with old plates of metal, car doors, and wire, before steve goes off to find dustin and his friend.

the second friend of dustin's soon introduces himself to y/n, making the girl smile at all the kids' kindness towards her.

time went by far too quickly, as the sun was now setting and the group of five was sitting in different places around the bus.

lucas was on top of the bus with a pair of binoculars glued to his eyes. max was sitting in one of the torn up bus seats. dustin was anxiously pacing. y/n and steve were sitting next to each other on the floor, while steve was busy flicking a lighter.

"so you really fought one of these things before? and you're sure it wasn't a bear?"

"shit, don't be an idiot okay? if you don't believe us, just go home," dustin pouts.

"jeez, past someone's bed time?" max replies, before going up the ladder in the direction of lucas.

"dustin!" y/n scolds.

"that's good, just show her you don't care."

y/n punches steve in the arm.

"i don't," dustin responds.

steve turns as dustin sits down. he notices y/n's nervous habit of picking at her nails. the last time he noticed her do it was sophomore year before her driving test. and now a year and a half later she was doing it again.

"hey, you okay?" he stops flicking the lighter.

y/n nods, "yeah. i mean i've never fought a monster before," she smiles slightly.

"you'll be fine, trust me. i'll protect you," steve smiles at her, watching as the worry leaves her tired eyes.

"thanks steve."

the sweet moment however was cut short, by a distant growling noise, and dustin jumping up to the wire covered slit in the side of the bus.

"lucas, what's happening?"

"hold on!" lucas yells.

"who knew twleve year olds could be full of so much sass?" y/n questions as steve helps her up off the floor.

"right?" he agrees with a low chuckle.

everyone on the bus soon spots the monster they were looking for. y/n couldn't help but grip steve's jacket sleeve tighter than she was a minute ago, when she sees the monster's face.

well, resemblance of a face. she shivers at the light chittering noises as he sniffs the pile of meat.

"why isn't he taking the bait?" dustin asks no one in particular.

"maybe he's not hungry," y/n guesses.

"maybe he's sick of cow," steve then answers, beginning to back away from y/n and dustin, just as max climbs down the ladder.

"steve, what are you doing?" dustin asks.

"just get ready," he tosses y/n his lighter, as he grabs a bat from besides the door.

"steve are you insane? you could get killed out there," y/n hisses, only wanting him to say he's joking and stand next to her again.

y/n's breath hitches as steve goes out the busted doors and into the lion's den. or would it be dog's den?

whatever it may be, it only stresses the older girl out more once the demodog can be seen in front of steve.

as steve stops mocking the demodog, he swings his nailed back more times than he can count, as he runs away from the monster whenever it chases him.

the three younger kids begin yelling for him at the same time, panicking for him. y/n can only bite her nails and watch in terror as her best friend might be killed in the next five minutes.

"he's insane," max calls out.

"he's awesome," dustin responds with a smile.

lucas calls out from above, alerting steve of the other dogs approaching.

"there's more of them?" y/n questions dustin.

dustin avoids her question before yelling through the window, "steve! abort!"

max and y/n join in on the yelling, until y/n begins opening the bus doors.

steve stumbles up the steps and is out of breath after he shoves the door closed, now only inches away from y/n.

"you're an idiot."

"are they rabid or something?" max asks.

"they can't get in! they can't!" dustin yells as one of the dogs rams itself against the metal doors.

steve grabs y/n's arm to bring her away from any form of danger, something he's gotten used to doing over the past few years.

dustin begins yelling god knows what into his walkie talkie set, as lucas climbs down the ladder and into the group of worried kids.

y/n takes in a deep breath and grabs steve's bat from out of his hands.

"y/n what the hell?" he asks, before his eyes widen, watching her begin the trek up the ladder.

he grabs her waist, stopping her, "what on earth do you think you're doing?"

"what if more are up there?"

"then let me handle it!" he whisper-yells.

"no, you stay here with the kids. they seem to trust you more."

y/n starts walking up the ladder again, definitely missing the feeling of steve's big hands on her waist.

y/n makes it to the top of the bus, clutching the nailed bat in her hands until her knuckles practically turn white. her head twists and body turns at any sound she hears, not wanting to take any chances at missing one of those dogs.

she fully turns around at the sound of claws on metal, watching as a demodog crawls onto the top of the bus.

the color in her face drains as she beings walking towards it. steve and the kids inside the bus can't help but start calling out her name, just like they all did when steve was outside.

the demodog growls at her, as y/n holds the bat up, ready to swing. however another demodog makes it way up from the other end of the bus.

thankfully, dustin notices the faint prints of the dog's feet towards the back and is quick to alert steve.

"y/n!" he yells up the ladder, "there's two, you have to get down!"

"i'm kinda busy here!" her voice shakes, and she prays that steve doesn't notice. he does.

once the first demodog is close enough, she swings the bat with as much force as she can muster and it rolls off the bus onto the dried grass beneath her.

she lets out a sigh of relief, althoguh steve's words finally register, just as the second demodog runs towards her and slashes it's claws through her left leg. the force makes it so y/n falls forward, making steve's bat fall out of her hands and lands with a thud farther down the bus.

steve's head immediately picks itself up as he hears y/n's ear splitting scream, followed by the call of steve's name. he skips two rings at a time as he climbs the ladder, scrambling to get through the opening.

his eyes widen as y/n's trying her hardest to kick the demodog away, but move away from it at the same time. however she can't move much because of the pain seering up her leg. steve turns his head, noticing his bat behind him, and is as quick as possible to swing at the dog. he gets the dog off the bus in two swings.

as soon as he takes another look at y/n, he drops the bat and kneels in front of her.

"hey, hey you're okay," his calm voice is an exact opposite of everything the two teens just went through.

y/n shakes her head and cries more as steve looks down at the gashes in her leg. there's three thick lines of skin missing, with blood dripping down her leg, ruining her pants and single converse.

out of instinct, steve takes off his signature grey jacket and places it over y/n's leg. she reaches forward and holds onto steve's arm as if her life depended on it.

"steve!" she cries more.

"i know. i know it hurts baby," the petname rolls of his tongue before he can stop it, "but we need to stop the bleeding okay? it'll help in the long run."

y/n leans her head forward, crying into steve's neck as he continues tending to her.

"dustin! max! lucas! i need your help!"

the three middle schoolers come up quickly, dustin already looking for things in his backpack as he sits down besides steve.

lucas helps dustin find anything to help stop the bleeding, as max sits next to y/n and rubs her back.

steve throws his now bloodied jacket somewhere on the top of the bus, as dustin hands him a few paper towels. steve's heart rate calms slightly as the blood flow has slowed down since he began helping y/n.

"will this work?" lucas asks steve, holding out a worn out bandage wrap from his own backpack.

steve nods, before dustin quickly takes the paper towels, only wanting to help steve.

"this is gonna sting a little okay? and it might be tight, but it's okay, yeah?" steve's calm voice floods her ears again.

he feels her nod against him and mutter oout a 'yeah', before he carefully wraps the bandage around her leg. once he finshes, his hand hovers over the area, as he rubs his tumb back and forth.

"you're okay," steve whispers against the top of her head, and kisses her hair.

her hold on his shirt loosens and her breathing starts going back to his normal state.

"hey there champ," steve smiles as she brings her face out of his neck. steve wipes under her eyes with his thumb.

"you think you can walk?" dustin asks carefully, definitely not wanting to piss y/n or steve off at the moment.

y/n nods, "i'm definitely going to need some help."

the three kids are the first to go down the ladder, grabbing their bags, and steve's bat and bloodied jacket.

steve helps y/n down the ladder, and once she's at the bottom, lucas and dustin help her stand until steve reaches the bottom.

the same process is made until everyone is standing outside the bus. y/n is leaning practically all her body weight against steve, making sure not to lean on her injured leg.

"do you think steve scared them off?" lucas broke the silence, now noticing none of the demodogs were around them anymore.

"no, no way."

"jeez thanks," steve responds to dustin's response, after wrapping his arm tighter around y/n's waist.

"they were going somewhere," dustin continues.

"where?" max asks.

"the lab," dustin and lucas say at the same time.

just as the group begins walking towards the forest, after dustin hands out flashlights for everybody, y/n winces as she tries to take a few steps.

"you guys okay?" dustin asks.

"yeah, yeah, you guys start walking. we'll be there in a few," steve responds, helping y/n sit down on the hood of an abandoned car.

"are you okay?" steve rubs over the denim of y/n's pants, making his hands rest on her thighs.

she nods, "yeah it just feels weird."

now steve nods, before she speaks up again.

"you called me baby."

"what?"

"up on the top of the bus," she explained, "you called me baby."

steve's face instantly become pink as his cheeks felt hot.

"oh, i uh, i didn't mean to. it was kind of in the heat of the moment i guess. i swear i-"

y/n cuts him off, "i liked it."

"oh?" is all steve can get out.

y/n nods again, "i really liked it. and maybe this is just the blood loss talking, but i really like you steve."

steve is silent as she continues rambling.

"i've liked you since you took me to the eighth grade dance, in that stupid blue dress my mom made me wear. i've liked you since you invited me to that stupid pool party with nancy wheeler when you liked her. i've liked you since you helped me find my car in the school parking lot," she pauses as they both let out a laugh. "i've liked you forever steve."

steve lets y/n's words sink in. as he does his smile only grows wider.

"i've liked you forever too," he begins to lean closer to y/n.

he's now fully standing between y/n's legs, not letting his hands fall from her thighs. he captures her lips gently at first, feeling her hands move to hold onto his shoulders.

he deepens the kiss, both of them letting years of untold love fall onto the other's lips. y/n's hands move up towards his hair, holding the strands in the back between her fingers.

y/n is the first to pull back, solely to catch her breath and so she can admire a lovestruck steve. her hands move down from his hair to his biceps, as his still stay on her thighs.

"hey steve?" her voice is quiet.

he hums a response.

"do you think you could carry me to this lab we're going to?"

steve smiles and nods, "i was hoping you'd ask."

y/n giggles as he's being as gentle as possible to pick her up off the car and into his arms. he leans forward to kiss her forehead before he starts walking.

"i'm sorry i ruined your favorite jacket," she apologizes as she leans her head on steve's shoulder.

"it's okay, i needed a new one anyway."

[thelaisydazy]

Firefighter!Simon Riley x Reader - Locked Out Pt. 2

Johnny drags you inside the station, ignoring the confused looks he gets from the other men inside. He walks you over to the oldest of them, a man with a beard sporting a hat, and introduces you. 

“This is oor captain, Price,” Johnny says, his arm still over your shoulder. “Cap, bonnie ‘ere lost their keys doon th’ drain. Can we gi’ them a hand?”

“I’m sure Gary could get to them,” Price says, offering a warm smile and his hand to shake, which you do. “You rest here mux.” He turned to the couch where a man with dark, curly hair sat. “Kyle, keep our guest company, we’ll be back.” He pats Johnny on the shoulder and the two leave to find Gary and retrieve your keys. 

Kyle stands from the couch and walks over. He’s handsome, pretty you think. He definitely knows it too as he catches you staring, giving you a smile. “Hungry?” he asks.

---

Simon emerged from the showers, wearing only a pair of sweatpants, his damp towel slung over his broad shoulders as his blond hair was still dripping wet. The station house was quiet. Johnny must still be out walking Riley. 

A quiet laugh broke that silence though. One that made his stony heart skip a beat. Simon made his way towards the common area, finding the one thing he never expected. You. 

Kyle was sitting with one arm on the couch behind you, the other on his leg. You hadn’t noticed Simon yet, too engrossed in Kyle’s story about the time Riley climbed into the open window of a cop car to get into a bag of treats the officer had hidden under his seat.

“So Riley was hanging halfway out this cop’s car, an’ Johnny’s trying to get him out before the cop gets back,” Kyle said. “Turns out, the cop had a bag of treats in the car. Found out when Simon called Riley over. Rascal had the bag hanging out his mouth.” 

The sound of your laugh makes Simon’s heart race and he finds himself jealous of the way your fingers gently scratched behind Riley’s ear as the dog’s head lays in your lap. 

Simon can’t help but stare. He’d always known how pretty you were, but seeing you here in the station.. He only wished he was the one you were sitting with. That he was the one making you laugh so easily. 

“Bonnie! We got yer keys!” Johnny calls, coming up behind Simon. 

Your head whips around, catching a glimpse of Simon as he turns on his heels and retreats deeper into the station. 

---

In his room, Simon’s heart pounds in his chest. He runs a large hand through his blond hair, his mind racing. All he’d wanted these past few months was to know you better, though he’d never been able to bring himself to speak more than a few words to you. Never had he thought he’d see you in the firehouse, much less cozied up on their couch. What were you even doing here? 

A knock on his door brought his answer. Simon quickly pulled on his privacy mask, some part of him hoping it was you. Instead he saw Johnny. 

“Aye, Si, did ye see we git a guest?” Johnny asked with that cheeky grin of his. Ah. That was it. Johnny brought you here. 

“I saw..” Simon said, keeping his voice measured despite his urge to to tear Johnny in half for getting up the nerve to talk to you before he could. 

“Ye never told me tha’ wee thing wis so cuit,” Johnny pressed. “S’already git Kyle wrapped ‘round their wee finger.”

Simon’s dark eyes sharpened. Johnny always knew just how to get under his thick skin. 

“Am sure they’d lek t’ see ye,” Johnny continued. “Looked a might fash when ye stormed off.”

“Didn’t ‘ave m’ mask,” Simon muttered. “Wasn’t expecting them..”

“Aye, ha t’ git Gary t’ rescue their keys,” Johnny explained. His blue eyes briefly looked Simon up and down. “Y’should say ‘ello. Am sure they’d lek t’ see ye.”

Johnny was dense but he wasn’t stupid. He knew Simon could get anyone he wanted, he had the looks to make just about anyone, including Johnny himself, melt. If only Simon had the confidence to actually talk to anyone. 

When Simon didn’t budge, Johnny decided to push further. “Aye wis think’n, LT,” he started. “I might ask ‘em oot fer coffee.” Johnny shrugged as he watched Simon tense. 

Simon shoved past Johnny, making his way to the common area again. Leaving Johnny grinning at his door.

---

“Coffee.”

Simon’s gruff voice startles you. You hadn’t seen him enter the room, much less hear him walk up behind where you were sitting on the couch. 

You blink those pretty eyes up at him. “What?”

“With me.” He doesn’t seem to be asking by his tone, but his eyes are almost pleading. 

“Uh.. sure,” you say, unable to keep the smile from your lips. 

The tension in Simon’s shoulders melted away. If he had a tail, it would be wagging.

[owenspets]

Space-Saving Folding Puppy Crate for Travel and Storage

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[earthchica]

sweetest things

terry richmond x black fem! reader

summary: After losing the love of your life, you've been hesitant to open your heart to someone new, but that might change when you meet Terry, your next-door neighbor.

warning: FLUFF, strangers to friends, dog lovers, mention of death, grief, falling in love again, kissing, pet names { baby girl & more }

note: I genuinely enjoy writing, sweet Terry, and I see some of you do, too. So here's another one... this might be a mini-series, idk! Please, enjoy!

{ part two }

-

You recently moved back to your hometown and just settled into a new, comfortable starter home with your Bernese Mountain Dog, Zeke.

You were in the middle of unpacking when Zeke made a muffled bark to get your attention.

You turned your gaze towards him, and he was sitting in front of you, tail wagging furiously with his leash gripped his mouth firmly,

Indicating he was eager for a walk, you smiled at him before checking the time and decided you two could benefit from a walk.

You've been spending so much time cooped up in the house, trying to make it feel cozy and welcoming.

You feel the urge to explore the new neighborhood, so you put on some shoes, grab your keys and bag, and secure Zeke onto his leash before heading out.

The lovely neighborhood park contained a lively playground filled with children's laughter.

A dining area with picnic tables next to a lake where ducks swam and a dog park where dogs romped in the open spaces.

Once you unhooked Zeke from the leash, his tail wagged eagerly as he approached a group of dogs in the park.

His playful nature and sweet demeanor were evident, but he also displayed a sense of readiness to protect himself.

The sun shone as you sat on the wooden bench, your trusty bag by your side.

You were immersed in a captivating book, stealing glances now and then to ensure Zeke was still within your sight.

Your head lifted from the pages when you noticed him meandering to someone on another bench.

"Come here, Zeke." You called but he did not listen and dashed towards the man seated in the distance.

You quickly rose from your seat, hastily gathered your belongings, and dashed after him.

As you caught up with Zeke, you witnessed a man petting him softly.

The guy softly utters, "Hey," with a slight smile playing on his lips.

"I'm so sorry," You apologized, making yourself known. The man raised his gaze, and you found yourself locked in a gaze with his striking, grayish-blue eyes.

Your eyes widened in awe at the sight of his strikingly handsome features—his tall, muscular frame, captivating eyes, full lips, and caramel-brown complexion.

"It’s all good! I'm Terry," he said with a friendly smile, extending his large hand.

You took his hand to shake and introduced yourself with your name.

"And this is Zeke. He loves meeting new people and being playful."

"I could tell! if you hadn't shown up, I would have been tempted to steal him," He said with a chuckle, and you giggled in response.

"Oh...nah...He's my baby. You'll have to fight me," You said playfully while gently scratching under Zeke's chin, his tail wagging happily.

Terry chuckles again but softly. It sounds warm and genuine. You don't know why, but it makes your heart flutter.

"I feel ya. I just rescued a dog named Nala...not too long ago. She's brought a lot of joy into my life."

"Really? Where is she?" You asked, curious as you scanned the area for his dog.

He calls over a golden retriever, the epitome of cuteness. You crouched down, gazing at her, before asking.

"Oh, she's so cute. Can I pet her?"

“Sure.” He responded with a smile, nodding in approval.

"Hi, sweetie," you cooed as the adorable dog wagged her tail playfully and joyfully.

With a cheerful skip, she runs over to play with Zeke.

“I'm guessing you two are new around here, huh?” He asked, politely gesturing for you to take a seat.

You eagerly sat beside him on the bench, happy to be in his company.

"Um, kind of to neighborhood, yes. The state, No. I was born and raised here proudly by my mom," you exhale deeply, feeling a little nervous at his gaze.

Get yourself together, girl. He is just a man.

“Oh...that's what's up.” He said admiringly.

“Um…how about you, Terry?” You asked with a smile, slightly turning your body towards him.

“Well...I moved here about a year ago after losing someone close. I guess I needed a fresh start.” His reply was honest.

“Oh…I’m sorry for your loss. I've lost someone close too,” you said, lightly touching his shoulder.

You and Terry talked for hours until you realized it was getting late. If possible, you would have spent an entire day conversing with him.

Terry kindly offered to accompany you back to your place, using the time to learn more about you through the walk.

Upon reaching your front door, you slowly turned to face him, a genuine smile spreading.

"Thanks for walking me home, Terry. It was nice talking and meeting you and Nala," you said.

"Of course…It was very nice meeting you and Zeke here," He says with a smile.

The air crackled with tension as you both locked eyes for what felt like an eternity.

His gaze flickered away briefly, and then he cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

"I'll see ya around," His words were accompanied by a soft smile directed at you.

"See ya around," You said, eyes fixated on him as he sauntered away, gently tugging Nala along. She glanced back at you and Zeke, her tail swaying happily.

Much to your surprise, you discover he resides just across the street from you.

You knew that was gonna be a problem; you didn't need to get close to someone, and you didn't need the guilt of moving on haunting.

After the devastating loss of your fiancé, you thought that you would never be able to open your heart to another.

You attempted to avoid Terry and keep your distance, but his kindness and genuine care drew you in.

You've ended up spending a lot of time getting to know Terry, whether it be over doggy playdates at the park or cooking delicious dinners together.

Terry shared how he was an ex-marine. He also talked about the tragic loss of his cousin, Mike, and how he exposed the corrupt system in Shelby Springs and successfully won the case.

Then you opened up about your past, including the loss of your fiance and your work as a teacher.

When you spoke about your late fiancé, Terry was incredibly comforting and kind, genuinely touching.

Every interaction with Terry felt genuinely comfortable. He was easy to talk to and willing to listen, and spending time with him was incredible.

You found yourself falling for him, which terrified you. You tried to plant doubt in your mind to halt the growing feelings, but you couldn't.

You were surprised that an amazing man like Terry hadn't been snatched up by a woman yet.

He was definitely husband material. You disconnected from your thoughts as you made your way to his house.

Your heart quickened with anticipation as you walked across the street to his front door.

You knocked, waiting for him to swing the door open with a big grin, ready to say something goofy that would inevitably make you giggle like a schoolgirl.

However, this time, things seemed different. As the door swung open, revealing his unexpected presence, your jaw fell in surprise.

Terry stood there with only a towel wrapped around his waist, using a smaller one to dry his head.

The towel hung provocatively low on his hips, and you couldn't help but stare at his well-defined chest and chiseled six-pack abs.

Damn! Stop, he's your friend.

"You're early," he remarked, pulling you out of your reverie. You gazed at him, bemused, as he casually slung the small towel around his neck.

"Say what?" you asked.

With a chuckle, he remarked, "You're early. I wasn't expecting you for another hour."

"I am?" You checked the time on your Apple Watch and realized you were over an hour early.

Looking up at Terry, you noticed a hint of amusement in his expression.

"Well, since you're already here, come on in," He says, moving to the side to let you in and entering his house, sweet Nala greets you with a wagging tail and joyful barks.'"

"Hi, sweet girl," You greeted her with a joyful expression as you bent down.

You then lovingly rubbed her head with both hands. She scanned the area, hoping to glimpse Zeke.

"Sorry, Nala. Zeke isn't with me tonight; he's spending time with my mama," you said, leaning in to place a kiss on her head.

Terry stood still, his gaze fixed on the captivating scene before him. He had never encountered anyone like you—your sweetness, thoughtfulness, intelligence, and beauty.

His feelings for you were growing steadily, and he yearned for the day when he could openly share these feelings with you, hoping that you would reciprocate.

"Terry…Terry?" Your gentle and soft voice jolted Terry out of his thoughts.

"Yeah?" He inquired with a puzzled expression, clearing his throat as he looked directly at you.

"You good?" you asked, looking at him with genuine concern.

"Yeah...Yeah. I'm good. Imma get dressed" Terry's words were barely out of his mouth before he swiftly ascended the stairs, leaving you no time to respond.

"What was that all about?" You asked, looking down at Nala, who appeared just as perplexed as you were.

With a nonchalant shrug, you went to the kitchen with her casually.

"So what are we cooking tonight?" Terry entered the kitchen with a soft, charming smile.

The confidence in his snug white T-shirt accentuates his body.

"I thought I'd make dinner for you tonight," You said, bustling about the kitchen, gathering ingredients and utensils to prepare the meal.

"But we always cook together," He said, moving over to you. You felt your heart flutter with his every move.

"I know...but I've been dying to make you my mom's famous fried fish and mac and cheese. I know you would love it. So let me, please."

"Okay, okay...baby girl. Do ya thang then?" He said with a smirk before making his way into the living room with Nala.

After finishing the meal and elegantly plating the food, you eagerly anticipated Terry's first bite.

"Is it good, Terry?" You inquired with a look of curiosity on your face as you poured yourself some wine.

He makes a sound that does something to you. "It's…so good. You did great job"

"Thank you!" You laughed heartily, lifting your fork and beginning to savor the delicious food on your plate.

As the evening progressed, you both enjoyed a delightful dinner and lighthearted banter accompanied by glasses of wine.

By the time you reached for your third glass, you could feel the pleasant effects of the wine, and a gentle sense of tipsiness began to set in.

You can't stop laughing at Terry's shocked expression.

"You playing with me, right....you've never heard of this famous song by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell?"

"I've heard of Marvin Gaye but not this song..." You nonchalantly remarked with a casual shrug, then lifted the glass to your lips for another sip of your wine.

"Nah...come on, baby girl." He rises from the comfortable couch, leaving you perplexed.

"What?" you inquired, delicately setting your wine glass down on the coffee table before turning your gaze towards him.

"Dance with me," With a warm smile on his face, he extends his hand towards you. You reciprocate the smile and gently clasp his hand in yours.

You two danced around the living room, laughing. Terry began to sing playfully every lyric to you, which put a wide smile on your face.

He slowly stopped and looked at you with those eyes that you came to.....love?

"You know...these past months with you have been so amazing for me. I-I....baby girl, you've made me feel things I didn't even know existed. I love being around and talking to you; your smile and your laugh make my heart smile....." He laughs before continues

"Your kindness to others...how you help people without a thought. I'm drawn to that, I'm drawn to you....I'm falling hard for you...baby" He confessed.

His beautiful words rendered you speechless. Silence fell between you two, the only sound being the music from the radio in the kitchen.

Thoughts of doubt and fear overwhelmed you, becoming too much to handle.

"Terry, I-" You said softly, looking away for a second.

"Shhh...it's okay. I just wanted to tell you," Moving closer to you, he leans in and gazes deeply into your eyes with his captivating grayish-blue eyes.

Your gaze travels up to meet his eyes and lips. You part your lips to speak but press them against his instead.

His lips felt incredibly soft and tasted sweet, leaving a lingering sensation of tenderness and warmth.

Terry pulled you closer, responding to the moment with his arms encircling your waist.

His touch sent shivers down your spine as you gently touched his neck.

The sensation of kissing him was so incredibly passionate that it seemed almost intoxicating.

The tender embrace of the kiss possessed the extraordinary ability to transport one to a state of pure euphoria.

Slowly, both of you pulled away from each other. You two stood there for a few minutes, mind blown by the kiss.

You found your voice again.

"I-I should go," You were about to make your way toward the door, but Terry held you tight, halting your movements.

"You don't have to, baby girl?" His words were spoken softly as he gently caressed your cheek.

"No, I do. I'm sorry, Terry," you responded with a quick comeback, swiftly slipping out of his grasp and exiting.

[space-cowgirllll]

I did boy mom Abby during the fall so you know I had to write some domestic fluff for Ellie too 🫶🏻🎃🍂

let’s ignore that I’m posting this less than an hour before Halloween is over 🥸

"Mama no! That's Rex's chair!"

"Well I don't see his name on it." The soft thud of the stuffed animal hitting the carpet is followed by the stomp of a tiny foot.

"Mama!"

You lower the volume on the halloween music playing on the tv, watching your wife get locked in stare down with a mini version of herself. Margo's legs wobble on unsteady plastic heels and the pink material of her dress wrinkles as she places her hands on her hips. Ellie had managed to squeeze herself into one of the bigger dresses in your daughter's closet, the thing looking like it was about to bust at the seams whenever she moved. Her tiara lopsided as it slowly slips off her head.

From the color of their hair to the slope of their noses, it was actually scary how alike they looked at the moment. Their profiles damn near identical.

The two stare at each other from opposite sides of the coffee table where a "spooky" tea party was being held with hot chocolate and Halloween cookies. Action figures and stuffed animals line the sides, with the newest addition to your little family sitting at the head of the table. Your seven month old son, Theo, sits in his infant chair watching the drama unfold as he chewed on a yogurt puff. His little body swallowed up by the tulle of his dress, with a sparkly clip in his short hair. Neither you nor Ellie able to save him from the older sister effect.

"He's a stuffie, he can't even eat the cookie." Ellie says matter of factly, reaching over to fix the girl's tiara.

The four year old's eyes shift from Rex's spot to her own empty plate, nodding in understanding. "Get more from mommy." she whispers loudly, pointing to where you stand at the counter with a fresh batch. Their eyes widen at the sight of the tray in front of you.

Ellie has a full blown one sided conversation with the infant in her arms, stopping at the large window facing your backyard. She points out the swing set under the large tree in the far right corner.

"Pretty soon you'll be out there with mama and margo having competitions on who can swing the highest." She bounces the infant on her hip.

"Mama cheats." Margo pipes up from the living room.

"I do not!"

Ellie jumps to defend herself, launching into story after story about the times she's lost to the four year old. Theo watches her in fascination, his eyes glued to Ellie's face. Your wife never stopped talking, and you swear it's the reason Margo's vocabulary is as good as it is.

You pretend to ignore Ellie as she saunters over to where you stand at the kitchen island. Her front presses up against your back, lips pressing against your bare shoulder as she reaches for the cookies. "Don't mind if I do."

"I do mind, actually." You push her away. "Dinner's almost ready."

"Oh c'mon just one more."

"You said that like five cookies ago Els." Taking the baby from her arms, you move the tray further away from her grabby hands.

She pouts. "So you hate me."

"Oh, shut up." You roll your eyes, pulling her in for a kiss. "How about you two go wash up and you can have one more AFTER dinner." The little hand reaching for the tray pauses, slowly retreating when you pull it further away. Ellie snorts as the culprit click clacks back towards the couch.

The doorbell rings, pulling your attention away from the kitchen. Ellie moves to stir the soup currently simmering in the pot, ignoring your warning look.

"Babe, did you order something?" You question, staring at the large plastic bag on your front porch. The logo didn't look familiar, her name is on the label when you squint.

"Oh, yeah! This wasn't supposed to come until next week." The package is snatched from your hands, a flash of pink and purple fly past you and down the hallway. Your two dogs manage to slip in the room just before the door slams shut.

"We're the only sane ones here bub." You turn back towards the kitchen, undressing the infant and placing him in his high chair. He babbles happily while you clean up the mess on the counter.

It's then that you notice the two cookies missing from the tray. Your wife and daughter's muffled giggles reach your ears.

"Ellie!"

———

"Okay oneeee more for Grandpa Joel."

"No more." Margo pouts "Papa has lots of pictures already."

The three of you wait impatiently as Ellie props her phone up against one of the steps on your front porch. She rushes back to where you stand as the timer counts down. Her hand reaches down to adjust the dog's dinosaur costume, the hood covering his eyes.

Theo sits happily in the wagon your wife had spent the last week turning into a little cage. His little green dinosaur costume just thick enough to keep him warm from the chilly weather.

You quickly make sure your pink button up is tucked properly into your shorts. Ellie gives you a grateful look when you push the hair out of her face. The two of you smiling just as the timer goes off, praying that the kids were looking.

Your wife had insisted on picking out the theme for Halloween this year. Knowing she had at least one year left before your already opinionated daughter decided she wanted to pick out her own halloween costume. With how busy you'd been at work you happily let her take charge.

And that's how you ended up wrangling a family of dinosaurs out the door.

"Let's go!"

You bite your lip when your daughter wobbles in her inflatable dinosaur costume, the head throwing her off balance. Her little hand reaches for Ellie's, dragging her down the driveway and out into the throng of people already out trick or treating. Pink plastic pumpkin swinging at her side.

The four of you make your way through the neighborhood, you and Ellie taking turns walking the kids up to knock on doors.

Like most four year olds, Margo gets tired after a couple of streets. Her plastic pumpkin now full of candy. Theo snoozes away in his wagon, checks rosy from the cold.

"Last house?" You point at the tiny craftsman at the end of the street.

Ellie gives you a thumbs up and follows after Margo as she hobbles up the path towards the front porch.

“Well aren’t you two the cutest.” The elderly woman sitting on one of the steps gushes. “Matching costumes!”

She reaches into the big yellow bowl, pulling out a full size candy that has the little girl’s tired eyes widening.

"A big candy! Thank you!" She clutches it in her tiny fist, rushing back to where you stood on the sidewalk.

The elderly woman laughs at the way her costume wobbles as she runs down. "Is that your family?" She asks pointing to where you stand.

"It is." Ellie smiles.

"They're so cute." She gushes, patting her arm. "You're very lucky."

Ellie watches you gently pry the melting chocolate from your daughter’s grasp, putting it in her overflowing bucket. Theo now perched on your hip, a big gummy smile on his face at the sound of his big sister’s voice as she bounces around dancing to the loud music coming from down the street. The two dogs swore she didn’t want sat at your sides.

Ellie’s heart warmed at the sight. Her smile widens.

"Yeah, I am."

—

"Margo's finally down." You sink down into the spot next to Ellie on the couch with a sigh. A hand reaches into the plastic bag on her lap where you'd dumped all the candy, digging around for the full size candy bar from earlier. Your wife searches for a movie to watch, clicking through multiple streaming apps.

"Told you we shouldn't have let her have that second lollipop before bed." She mumbles through a mouthful of chocolate. Her eyes glued to the tv. You stretch out on the couch, legs thrown over her lap.

"Nothing scary." You remind her. "Don't need you waking me up to walk you to the bathroom at 3 AM again."

"That was ONE time!" Ellie scoffs, but quickly exits the horror section. She sprawls out on top of you, her head resting on your chest.

“No cartoons either.” You press a quick kiss to her hair. “Get enough of that with the kids.”

You settle on Hocus Pocus after ten minutes of bickering only for the two of you to end up asleep only fifteen minutes into the movie.

[simplyholl]

Frozen Stiff

Summary: Captured by the Frost Giants, your time on Jotunheim gets interesting.

Pairing: Jotun Loki x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ ONLY. Minors DNI. Loss of virginity. Size kink. Somnophilia.

See my Masterlist here

You really did it this time. Your father instructed everyone stay in their homes this night. Loki, king of the Frost Giants had warned your father, King Erik, king of the elves that he would be coming through Alfheim. If anyone was caught outside, they would be considered an enemy, and taken prisoner.

Your father’s royal decree had went in one ear and out the other. You were considered a trouble maker. Not because of anything you had done consciously. Trouble seemed to follow wherever you went. You were so unlike your sister, the future queen of Alfheim, and no one let you forget that.

She was tucked away safely in her chambers with the door locked. Here you were, hiding in the bushes outside the palace. You wanted to get a good look at the Frost Giants. You had never seen one in person, and you didn’t think the view from your chambers would do them any justice.

Loud footsteps echoed throughout the forest as they stomped through. The trees were shaking with each step they took, the force of their large bodies leaving holes in the ground where they walked. They were approaching quickly. You really should run back in the palace, but you were frozen. The first few Jotuns walk by and you’re stunned.

They are even bigger than you imagined. Then you see him, King Loki. He struts through and a wild thought comes to you. He’s beautiful. You had always been taught that the Frost Giants were ugly beasts that would take misbehaving children in the night. They seemed nice enough. King Loki had even given your father warning before passing through. He and the last three giants walk passed you and you count the seconds before you can run back inside.

Woof

You look beside you terrified. Your sister’s dog, Arnie, pants beside you, tail wagging.

Woof

He barks again. You grab him, trying your best to shush him. But it’s too late. He’s gained their attention. They turn back around, looking toward the bushes you are hiding in. You sink lower to the ground, trying to shove your body under the bush. You close your eyes, hoping if you can’t see them, they can’t see you.

But their footsteps shake the ground as they come closer. “What have we here?” One of them growls, picking you up with one hand. “We found a spy, your highness.”

“Bring him to me.” King Loki demands. You squeak as you are dropped from one huge hand into another. You shiver, the temperature of his skin is colder than you could have imagined. “Not a he, but a she.” He says amused, as he looks closely at you.

“What are you doing out here, little mouse? I warned your king that we would take anyone we found outside prisoner.” You swallow, trying to seem braver than you felt. “My father, King Erik, he did command the whole village to stay inside, your highness. I was simply curious and I wanted to see you for myself.”

Loki looks at you in the palm of his hand, amusement dancing on his features. “Your father, the king? So that makes you a princess? Are you the heir to the throne?” You shake your head. “No, your highness, that would be my sister.” You introduce yourself hoping it will get you out of this situation.

“A princess for a prisoner. What an interesting day it’s turning out to be.” He sneers. “No, wait!” You protest. He closes his hand around you, silencing you. When you arrive in Jotunheim, you are brought to a room with a giant bed, huge fluffy pillows, and a roaring fireplace. King Loki places you on the bed.

“This isn’t normally how I treat my prisoners, but you are still a princess. As long as you obey me, you may stay in this room and avoid the dungeon. You are free to walk around, and I will let everyone know that no harm is to come to you. Am I understood?”

“Yyyyesss” You stutter, you had been freezing the entire trip. You run to the fireplace, rubbing your hands together in an effort to get warm. Loki studies you, his red eyes lingering on your sheer nightgown. You really didn’t plan on getting captured when you went out, so you didn’t bother with putting on a proper dress.

You regret that decision now as his gaze lands on your breasts, heaving on your shaking form. He could see everything through the nightgown, and he was already looking, so you didn’t bother with attempting to cover yourself. “I’ll have someone make you proper clothing. In the meantime, there are extra blankets in the closet.” He walks out, leaving you with your thoughts.

Months had passed and you were settling into your new home. No one treated you like a prisoner, and you decided for once in your life to stay out of trouble. You had been given a job in the palace kitchen and you were making new friends. You were actually starting to like it here.

You giggle as your closest friend Marta, asks about your sex life. As a princess, you had to save yourself for whoever your father chose for you. You knew very little about the act itself. But Marta filled you in. She answered every question you had without judging you, and she even gave you some tips. The most shocking part was learning that a male might want to kiss you between your thighs. Marta told you there was nothing like it, so you couldn’t help fantasizing about it the rest of the day. When you laid your head down to rest, your tried to think of more questions for Marta.

The door to your room squeaked open. King Loki walked in, shutting it behind him. He gently removed the blankets from your sleeping form. You were wearing the nightgown from the first night you met him. He reaches out, his long finger grazing your nipple. The chill from his skin causing it to harden under his touch. You sigh from his attention, but don’t wake up. He carefully spreads your legs, laying down between them. His cold tongue meets your center, and you buck your hips toward him. He takes this as an invitation, long tongue lapping between your thighs.

You jump up, searching your room for him, but he’s not there. It was all a dream. You confide in Marta about it and she says it must be your conversation. It made its way into your subconscious. But you didn’t talk to Marta about it the next night when you had it or the next night. Weeks had passed and still, you had the same dream every night. It made it awkward for you when you had to serve King Loki his meals.

“King Loki has requested you serve his dessert in his chambers.” Marta told you, handing you the tray piled high with pastries, cakes, and fruit. You knock on his door, waiting for his instruction to enter. When he calls for you to come in, you bow to him. “My king, I’ve brought your dessert.” He’s propped up on his bed, gesturing for you to place it on a table by the window.

He’s so big, he nearly takes up all the room on the large bed. His muscled blue form has been the object of your fantasies for a while now. “Remove your dress, and get on the bed.” He demands. You drop the metal tray on the table. “Excuse me, your highness. I must have misheard you.”

He pats the bed, “You heard correctly, little mouse. I know you desire me. You dream of me every night. I’m only rewarding your good behavior.” You fight the urge to pinch yourself. You must be dreaming. “How did you know about that?” You manage to mumble. “I know all, little one. You can hide nothing from me.”

He beckons you with his thick finger. You do as he instructed, removing your dress and getting on the bed with him. He lifts you with one hand, hovering you above his face. “Wha- what are you doing?” You stammer. “I’m having my dessert.” He quips placing you on his mouth. His long, cold tongue covers your center. You shiver from the chill. His velvety muscle curls beneath your clit, flicking it.

He treats you like a porcelain doll, holding you as if you might break. He could easily crush you without trying. You really were like his own personal doll. He enters your untouched flesh with his tongue, rocking you back and forth on it. Your small hands wrap around his fingers, trying to ground yourself. He drinks you like it’s water, the icy muscle tipping you over the edge, making your toes curl.

He suddenly tosses you on your back, his bulky form trapping you beneath him. He settles between your thighs. They start aching as he spreads them as wide as he can. It’s still not wide enough to accommodate him. So he pushes your knees to your chest, his gigantic cock nudging your center.

The thought of ruining such a small, delicate woman driving him mad with lust. “I’ll split you in half, little mouse. You would like that wouldn’t you?” Your still dazed from your orgasm, so you only hum in response. “My sweet princess is cock drunk and she hasn’t had any cock yet.” You nod, reaching for him. “I am the first to touch you, correct?” Another hum to confirm.

You gasp when he dips a large finger inside you, curling it upwards. “I have to get you ready.” He explains. As he works his skilled finger inside you, you rock your hips, hungry for more. You whine as he removes his digit from you, but you’re not left wanting for long. He thrusts into you, and you scream. He stretches you, and you try to adjust to his size. You feel him bottom out and you wiggle to get more comfortable.

Tears fall down your cheeks, the stinging not subsiding. “My poor princess. I’m too much for her. It’s only the tip, my sweet girl.” He gently traces the outline of his cock bulging in your stomach. Loki presses on it. “I can see myself protruding out of your stomach, little one. Do you know how feral that makes me? Such a small creature struggling to take the head of my cock.”

He tilts his hips, hitting that spot that makes you see stars. Goosebumps line your arms when you feel his breath on your ear. “You’re doing so good for me, my little princess. You feel incredible. I’ll keep you forever, my little plaything.” You whimper at his words, a gush of arousal soaking him. He moans, looking at your fucked out expression. He wraps his enormous hand around your waist, thrusting you down on him, faster.

Loki roars as he releases inside you. He pulls out, spreading your now limp legs. “I want to see me dripping out of you.” He lowers his head, black tresses covering your stomach as his icy tongue laps at you once more. “What a delicious mess you made.” He coos.

Tags

@fictive-sl0th @lokisgoodgirl @lokidbadguy @ozymdias @cindylynn @cakesandtom @eleniblue @marygoddessofmischief @coldnique @mochie85 @goblingirlsarah @lokisninerealms @wheredafandomat @peaches1958 @freegardenbanananeck @chantsdemarins @lokidokieokie @l0ki3000 @anukulee @multifandom-worlds @alexakeyloveloki @ladymischief11 @kats72 @mischief2sarawr @lamentis-10 @loz-3 @litaloni @lulubelle814 @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @avengersfan25 @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @xorpsbane @mybugabomlb @bunny24sstuff @luthien-elvenia-asher @gruftiela @itsybitchylittlewitchy @asgards-princess-of-mischief @weirdothatwritess

[gojoidyll]

blindsided pt 1

simon ghost riley x fem!reader

summary | you're blind and haven't realized that you were in the apocalypse. thankfully, some military men point that fact out to you.

based off of this

Your alarm blared loudly causing you to groan and reach for it. You fumbled for a hot minute, but managed to hit the off button before sitting up. You were forever grateful that your mother set up your alarm for you since you didn’t have the eyes to do it yourself. Well, you had eyes, of course, you were just blind.

Yawning slightly, you moved so that you were sitting on the edge of your bed, your feet planted on the ground. And the moment you did that your could hear the faint pitter-patter of your beloved service dog, Bob.

Bob was a chill and quiet dog, only ever barked and pulled roughly at you when a car was speeding towards you. And Bob was smart. Too smart, in fact, cause he always growled and showed his teeth when someone would flip him the middle finger for shits and giggles. He didn’t like the disrespect.

“Do you know what today is?!”

You felt your dog jump, his front paws landing in your lap as he leaned in and licked your cheek.

“That’s right, buddy! Grocery store today!”

Bob jumped off of you as you stood up, your feet shuffling a bit as you reached for your trusty walking stick.

“Let’s get ready and beat the morning rush, yeah?”

You could feel Bob’s tail happily hit against you before he trotted off to the kitchen, you smiling as you followed after.

Your morning routine was simple. Hit your pinky toe a few times, hope to god the clothes you put on aren’t inside out or backwards, pop in some toast and maybe even indulge in some pancakes, while also being sure to feed Bob. Then, if you have to go somewhere, strap Bob into his harness, get your shoes and socks on and head on right out the door (while being sure to not forget your wallet in the process).

“I hope the store isn't ’t so bad,” you said as you locked your front door before turning to walk down your sidewalk, “and that the busses aren’t crowded…,” you shivered at the memory of having a bunch of snot nosed brats petting your service dog while also being forced to stand in the overcrowded vehicle.

And as soon as you reached the end of your driveway, you heard a large crash from the house in front of you, most likely Jerry knocking over his trashcan again. Ugh… Jerry. The man was annoying as hell, and a pervert.

Just because you were blind doesn’t mean you couldn’t feel his stare on you. It gave you the creeps!

“The hell?”

Stopping you heard hurried footsteps coming towards you from Jerry’s house, your lips immediately setting into a tight line. I swear, if he is going to try and touch me again-

The moment you felt his hands grab you, you tightened your grip on your walking stick/cane and swung it down hard on his ankle. You were surprised he didn’t let our a pained scream instead of a loud groan, but was satisfied when you heard him fall to the ground and let you go.

“Sorry about your ankle Jerry, but I did warn you about touching me and grabbing me like that. Put some ice on it, and, God, take a shower. You smell like a rotting corpse!”

Crinkling your nose, Bob got the message and started walking in the direction of the main street towards the doctor’s office. Unbeknownst to you though… Jerry had gotten up and started to hobble after you, albeit slowly. But you were already far away from him to notice or care. If he had something to say to you then it better be an apology. Other than that, you weren’t interested.

After a few more minutes of walking, your dog stopped causing you to smile.

“Finally made it to the bus stop.”

You released a sigh of relief as you stood there for a few minutes. Bob sat down next to your feet. And as you waited at the bus stop, you started to get antsy. Usually other people would start to wait with you, but it must be a slow day, or… you missed the bus. It wouldn’t be the first time, after all.

Then your phone dinged, signaling you that you were going to be late for the bus if you didn’t get a move on. (Your mother helped you set up alarms for when the bus stops.)

“Darn it,” you muttered, “guess I missed the bus. Come on, Bob, let’s get going.”

Pulling the leash a bit, your dog got up and started walking again. And as you walked and got out the neighborhood and more into the city, you found that everywhere was more… trashy. It was weird. It was like you were walking over more things than you typically would.

You tried to ignore the nervous feeling in your stomach, something that Bob easily took notice of as he stopped so you could catch your breath. You don’t know what’s going on with you today. Was it just nerves?

Shaking your head, you fumbled a moment before finding Bob’s head and giving him a gentle pat between the ears, “let’s… let’s just go to the small gas station shop instead, yeah?”

Bob let out a quiet woof as he started walking again, presumably to the small little gas station instead of the grocery store. Your doctor always told you to take things easy if you felt something was off after all.

And after one more block, Bob stopped in front of the door to the gas station. It was odd that there weren’t any cars trying to fill up during the morning rush, but you decided not to think about it.

“Morning, tommy!”

Your voice rang out when you opened the door (after embarrassingly missing the handle a couple of times), but surprisingly Tommy didn’t answer. Instead, you heard a loud thump in the back.

He must be in the storage closet; you thought with a grin.

“Come on, Bob.”

You tugged gently on his harness as you went through the various shelves. Frowning every now and then when you felt how little the supply was with your cane, “what the-?”

You stopped for a moment, “Hey, Tommy! Where is everything? Did you forget to restock?”

You had called out to him again, but instead of an answer, you hear another loud thump and rolled your eyes.

“Let’s just find what we can, Bob.”

You managed to snag a bag of chips, some tampons, and even a few more extra snacks and two small bags of dog food. Bob would always woof once for good products or two times for no, put that back. You always wondered how Bob got so smart, but you were thankful, nonetheless.

Then, going to the counter, you didn’t bother to wait for Tommy as you went behind it and bagged your items yourself after ringing them up and getting exact change out of your wallet. Your bills and such were stamped with brail, so that way you could tell if you were handing someone a dollar or a twenty, deciding not to fiddle with the cash register, you placed twenty-five on the counter.

“Money’s by the cash register,” you called out but was only greeted with an even louder thump from the storage closet. Shrugging, you folded your cane and slipped it into one of the plastic bags and slung them over your shoulder while opening one of the chip bags you got.

Popping a chip in your mouth you tugged the harness with your free hand, “let’s go home, Bob.”

Bob let out a small woof and tugged you to the door.

“Man, these are some pretty good chips. Here, try some!”

You flicked a piece up in the air, and not a moment later did you hear Bob snap at it and crunch it between his teeth. You could feel how his tail wagged when being granted the chip. It made you grin.

Meanwhile, four men were on the other side of the street. All of them decked out in military gear.

“Not a single living person in this whole damn city!”

“Quiet, Soap.”

“But-“

As Soap was bickering with their Captain for the tenth time that day, Ghost found his mind wandering. A part of himself still unbelieving that this situation exists. Just a month ago he was on deployment. He didn’t expect to come back to this.

Though, his thoughts were soon interrupted when he glanced across the street towards the little mart, the door opening wide as a dog walked out first followed by some.. girl? Fucking hell.

He glanced towards Price who got the message, and looked to where Ghost had his sights on.

“Soap, you’re about to eat those words.”

Soap finally looking to where everyone else was including Gaz, brightened almost immediately at the sight of you.

“I’ll be damned,” he said as he raised his arm up to wave, “hey, you! Lass with the dog!”

Minding your own business, you didn’t expect to be called out to. Especially by someone with such a weird accent-

You turned, “uhhh- yeah?”

You tried to muster up a voice loud enough in hopes that they heard you.

“Ye blind lass? We’re over here!”

You couldn’t stop the heat of embarrassment cross over your features as you still couldn’t tell which way his voice was shouting at you from except from the fact that he was somewhere behind you.

“Actually,” you called back out, “I am!”

“You’re what?”

“I’m blind!”

There was a heavy silence that followed and thinking that you have successfully turned down someone catcalling you, you turned back in the direction of your home and motioned for Bob to move again.

“Hold up!”

You frowned when you felt this person grab your shoulder, the way his grip felt sending a jolt through your body momentarily. This guy was stronger than Jerry, your walking stick probably won’t even leave a bruise if you try to hit him. Not that you could, though, since you put your cane in one of your plastic bags.

Bob let out a small growl, you didn’t need eyes to see that his was raised into a mohawk.

“Listen, I’m just trying to get home. I’m not in the mood to get mugged or anything like that, and- and if you do try something my dog will bite.”

Wrong, Bob was sweet. Sure he growled at aggressive people but he wouldn’t hurt anyone. He was a service dog, and a violent service dog wasn’t a good one. (You begged to differ, especially in situations like these-)

“Soap, let her go.”

The grip on your shoulder quickly disappeared as soon a the new voice popped in. Ok, so there are two guys.

“Sorry to frighten you love, but seeing you out here just through us off guard was all.”

You scrunched your face up, “why? It’s natural to go outside, isn’t?”

You didn’t realize that they looked amongst each other until a new voice popped up, this one a bit rougher than the others, “do you know what is even going on around you?”

You furrowed your brow, “no?”

Three guys. Ok so there are three men-

“Love, it’s an apocalypse.”

Four men-

You shook your head at that, “the what now?! That’s- that’s impossible! I mean, just earlier I hit Jerry in the ankle-“

“You mean the zombie that’s slowly hobbling towards us?”

“Pervert Jerry is a zombie?!”

You wished that you stayed in bed this morning. Cause like, what the hell?!

[mystellenia]

first kiss with abby ୨ৎ

summary: after the romantic tension between you and abby reaches a peak, you two finally share a sweet kiss.

content: answer to this req and part two to this!! fluffyfluffyfluffy! ehehehehehe. i love fluff i love writing fluff. nothing nsfw. just lowk domesticity with abby and then super cutesy pie origami stuff and then a kiss 💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋 ok toodles enjoy

notes: three weeks of no post i’m sorry my children. i am back!!! classes just finished and now i have summer break so i just had to soak in my freedom from my fuckass med teacher. he can choke fr 💯

(wc 1.6k)

a series of vibrations from your phone rudely pulls you out of your sleep and you swipe your hand across the bed to silence the notifications. you find your phone connected to abby's charger on her vacant side of the bed, the sheets cold without the warmth from her skin to heat them up. she always ran hot—especially during the night—which usually resulted in her yelping at your cold feet pressed to her thighs and trying to absorb her warmth in the hours of the night. 

you raise your phone to your face and are met with four notifications from abby on your home screen. 

abby :p otw back with our loot  

abby :p two berry pastries for the missus and one cream cheese puff pastry for me 

abby :p and nadia gave us two chocolate croissants bc we're super cool 

swiping to unlock your phone, you head to messages and reply to her. 

you YAY thanks you're the best 

you we gotta get nadia a gift card or somethin

you or a bottle of liquor 

you head to the bathroom to brush your teeth with your toothbrush abby got for you for her apartment since you slept over so often. while you load your brush with toothpaste, your phone lights up with a notice from messages: "abby :p loved 'or a bottle of liquor.' " sticking the toothbrush in your mouth, you smile around the minty foam and continue freshening up before abby returns. 

around ten minutes later, you hear the jingle of her keys at the front door and practically skip to the living room to retrieve your pastries. 

abby unlocks the door and pushes it open, a brown bag with a cafe logo printed on it in one hand and a drink carrier with two coffee cups hanging from her ring and pinky fingers in her other. with her few remaining fingers grasping onto her car keys to not drop them, she nudges the door back shut with her hip and locks it. 

her blonde head donns a blue and white trucker hat, the brim of it blocking her from seeing you standing and sheepishly smiling a few strides away. she calls out to you to signal her return. 

"hey, i'm back! and i come bearing gifts. i got-" it's then that abby takes her hat off and notices you inching ever closer. "oh, hi. i got you herbal tea. there weirdly was a lot of traffic today, even though it's, like, seven." 

she continues on as she unpacks everything that she got for you. "then again, i guess kids have school. man, i hated that about high school—waking up early and getting to class on tim- you know what? you're not listening anyway with your food right in front of you," she chuckles. "go on. release! free!" she pokes, using command words for a dog. 

you kiss your teeth and scowl at her, mumbling a "whatever" before tearing into the paper bag. you're met with your two fruit pastries first, then you spot the chocolate croissants abby mentioned under them. 

the two of you stand and eat in comfortable silence in the kitchen, you sipping on your tea and abby picking at her puff pastry. when you finish, you clean both of your spots and abby throws away the paper bag and pastry wrappers, washing her hands after.

after breakfast, you guys ping pong around her apartment, moving from her bed to the couch to the floor and then back to her bed again, all just to talk or scroll on your phones.

hours pass, and after a brief joint nap in her bedroom, you guys now sat on the floor of her living room, light filtering in from her large windows and warming your skin. the floor was littered in origami squares of all different sizes and colors, the origami book abby had gotten for you split open between you two. 

there was a village of origami figures surrounding you, from hearts to frogs to ladybugs to cranes. the book was flipped to a particularly challenging page of an elephant, and you looked over at abby in confusion. 

she was just as confused as you, if not more. her hair was tied in a messy golden knot at the nape of her neck, loose strands crazy and framing her face. her brows were pulled tight on her face, her eyes bewildered and looking at the same piece of paper in her hands as if she'd never seen it before. 

"what step are you on?" she asks, looking at the square in front of you that you were working on. 

"twelve. out of..." you flip the page twice. "god. thirty." you sit up straight to stretch your back out. "i get it, though. kinda." 

"what? show me. i’m on, like, seven. i swear they skipped a step. or forgot to add a picture. just something is wrong." 

you scoot over to sit next to her, pulling your leg to your body and propping your cheek on it. abby places her piece in front of you puts her hands in her crossed lap, her eyes wide and waiting for you to make sense of her issue. 

"okay, let's see." you pull the book closer to you to confirm the step she's on. "step seven is... rotating and folding the back of the elephant." 

"which i did," abby verifies. 

you rotate the piece and immediately find her mistake. "which you did not." 

"what?! where?" 

"here." you trace your finger along the missing crease. "you see how on mine, this part is creased and pointed? like a peak?" 

"uh-huh..." 

"and yours doesn't do that." 

she simply hums, so you look over at her to confirm that she's listening. her eyes are unfocused and locked on your face. they flit between your own and then drop to your lips for a second. the single second feels quite long, though, when she looks so deeply at you in the way that she does, or when her baby hairs draw attention to her blonde lashes, long and very slightly curled around her sapphire eyes. 

she seems to snap out it—whatever it was—and she deeply inhales, licking her lips and refocusing on the task at hand. 

"can you repeat that?" she asks. "sorry, i... i zoned out." 

it was your turn, now, to lose focus and examine her. you stare at her lips, rosy and still glossy from her just licking them. you stare at the corners of them and the ever so slight frown her mouth always pulls into when she's focused. you stare at the little creases in them, the dozens of lines that- 

"are you looking at my lips?" she questions, interrogative and almost paranoid. 

"oh, um, sorry. i was-" 

"why were you looking at them?" she interrupts again, her eyes wild and demanding an answer from you. 

"because, i- well, you just licked them, so- i don't know. because." you swallow, mumbling, "what, can i not look at them or something?" 

her stone stare softens after noticing your flustered state, and the two of you exchange a long and quiet look. 

abby held her breath nearly the entire time. she didn't want to assume anything or read the situation wrong, but your eyes were dilated. they were dilated from looking at her, and just from that. 

as if it were out of your control—like you were magnets—you started moving closer to her. abby could not seem to remember how to control a single muscle in her body, so she just sat and watched you move closer as her cheeks grew pinker and pinker. 

you stop right in front of her face, the tips of your noses kissing and your breaths shared. after a few seconds, you realized abby wouldn't initiate anything, so you leaned in and pressed your lips to hers, short and sweet. when you pulled away, abby's eyes remained closed for a few seconds before they slowly fluttered open. 

"you just kissed me," abby whispers in disbelief, pointing out the obvious. 

"i just kissed you," you echo back. 

it's abby who leans in for the second kiss, thick and intense with emotion, her hand sliding up your arm. her hand reaches the back of your neck, and she pulls you closer and deepens the kiss. 

you press your forehead to hers and stop kissing her, an infectious smile taking up your features instead. 

"are you.. are you seriously smiling right now?" abby gasps theatrically with mock offense. 

your smile breaks out into giggles and you press your face into her cheek to hide. 

"wow, i cannot believe this. you are laughing at our kiss!" she teases. 

"stop, no i’m not!" you plead, still laughing. 

"whatever you say." she grabs your chin between her fingers and pulls your face back to look at you. peppering kisses on your cheeks, she relents on her taunting.  

"are you gonna show me what i did wrong, or what?" she says, referring to the initial topic of her paper elephant. 

you smile back at her. "yeah, i will." 

"okay." she presses one last kiss to your temple and then waits for your instruction. 

"i was saying, there's supposed to be a crease here, on what'll be the back of the elephant." 

abby nods and hums like she's listening, but really, she smiles at your profile as you continue to speak. 

@abbysbug @abbyonmars @abigails-gf @picklesarenice69

heheheh all done!!!! this was so cute to write especially the end like i was talking to @abbyonmars while i wrote the end and we were fangirling over typed words and pixels. but what else is tumblr dot com for if not to fangirl!!!!