#like i saw ten when i was 11 and i said Man Why Do I Want His Gender. Hes Got A Complicated Relationship With His Older Brother? Holy Shit-

[nethnad]

i love having favorite characters its either “you could psychoanalyze the hell outta me for this one” or “i just think theyre neat” and there is no in-between

[skrrts]

the bus at 11:17PM (oneshot)

✧ gn!reader x yunho ✧ genre: non-idol, slice of life, crush on a stranger ✧ word count: 1,6k

every thursday, you wait with a handsome stranger for the bus at 11:17 pm. today, you intend to finally approach him.

a/n: how to write drabbles? this was meant to be short but oh well. thank you yuyu for all those pictures

As you stepped outside of the building, your gaze went up to the night sky, and you admired how the rain clouds had vanished, the moon shining boldly, fighting the fake lights of the city.

“I guess I won’t need that one,” you said, dropping the small umbrella into your bag and stretching a little.

Taking a long language class every Thursday after work was still challenging, your lazy nature asking why you couldn’t just go home early instead of trying to learn a language you had been interested in for years.

All your attempts to teach yourself with YouTube videos had failed horribly.

“Y/N, are you sure you do not want a ride home? I really do not mind taking a detour, it’s late.”

Yeosang’s pretty face appeared next to you, leading you to look back at him.

You shook your head, smiling: “No, it’s okay. I like taking the last bus; it’s nice to ride without all the crowds I deal with every morning. And besides, I really do not live too far away, it’s just ten stops, and I will be right at my apartment complex.”

There was a small hint of worry. The two of you sat next to each other in language class, and he had been a great help, far more advanced than you were after years of failed self-study.

“Alright, get home safely. I’ll see you next week,” he bowed and waved before turning around to follow the other students to the parking lot.

You were a little surprised to learn you were the only one who did not have a car. It just didn’t feel convenient in the middle of a large city, not to mention the costs tied to it — money you’d rather invest in something you enjoyed.

Then, there was another reason. As you walked to the nearby bus station, you could feel your heartbeat increase and held your breath in anticipation as you stepped around the corner.

It was on the day of your first language class that you saw him for the first time, waiting for the same bus as you. The tall and handsome stranger looked up and flashed you a sweet smile before focusing back on his phone that day. You felt silly and shy for glancing at him the entire time, even when you reached your station and had to go.

Then, you told yourself it was fine — who didn’t do that with a stranger? But to your delight, he was there every Thursday, waiting in silence not too far from you.

His presence was comforting. The street was quiet and empty, but with him there, you felt safe. It sounded strange, considering you didn’t know anything about this man. Maybe it was his tall frame or the way he was so relaxed, giving you a feeling of security.

He was always dressed casually but still elegant, and you wondered if he worked somewhere around here, spending hours imagining what kind of job he held.

Your language class was about to end in three weeks, and you knew you were likely running out of time. If you intended to learn at least his name, you finally needed to find the bravery to approach him.

Your heart skipped a beat as you could see him standing there once again! He was looking good today too. White and black suited him so well, but this was the first time you saw him wearing glasses. Did he need them? Was it a choice of style?

Your bus always left at 11:17 PM; you had about fifteen minutes to change your life!

Fine, you just tried to hype yourself up to finally find the courage to do something.

Unlike all those other Thursdays, you decided not to sit down but instead stood quite close to him, looking casually at your watch like you actually just wanted to check the time.

While you used a backpack because it was simply more convenient, you carried one of your language books around today, hoping it would make you look just a little more interesting.

All those scenes from your favorite romance series flashed into your mind, where the protagonist just stood cutely at the station and the romantic interest would approach them just like that.

It would be ideal, but there it was again — your imagination running wild, just like when you thought how nice it would be to learn another language but didn’t manage without the help of a teacher.

You gave him a quick glance, but for some reason, the stranger was more engaged with his phone than usual.

He didn’t even give you that sweet and quick smile you had gotten used to because he always greeted you like that when you joined him, waiting for the bus in silence.

Did he ever think about that stranger who only showed up here on Thursdays? Was he maybe quietly asking himself what you were doing here so close to midnight?

Maybe it was better not to know; you would just be disappointed.

As you were lost in thought, you did not realize how your time was already up — not until the bus arrived, a little faster than usual. When it braked, the rain puddles splashed at you, covering not only your book but also your clothes.

The soft noise of surprise was followed by a hiss, and you stared at your outfit.

You intended to approach him today, so you had put more effort into your appearance, wearing some of your favorites pieces, which were now covered in dirty rainwater.

For a moment, you fought back tears, now embarrassed by how you had imagined your life turning into a silly romance movie when you should be more mature than that.

What made you think this would work?

“Are you okay?”

The voice next to you was foreign, but when you turned around, you saw the stranger looking at you with worry. The bus driver hissed to get in if you didn’t want to stay.

Your crush gave the old man a small glare before he quickly smiled at you, indicating for you to get in. After a moment, you blinked but hurried inside. The doors shut, and the bus station was slowly disappearing.

The stranger was standing beside you, pulling out a package of handkerchiefs from his bag.

“Here, it probably won’t help much with the clothes but the book.”

You stared at it, blushing.

“Oh, yes! Thank you!”

You accepted it with a slight bow and tried to clean off your book, you felt his gaze still on you. As you looked up, he offered a soft smile.

Realizing you did not answer his question yet, you said, “I am okay. It was my fault… I should not have stood so close to the street.”

But he was quick to shake his head.

“No, he drove too fast; it wasn’t your fault. He should be more mindful. Here, let’s sit.”

Your cheeks were red, and you weren’t sure if the heat was from being shy or embarrassed, but your body just acted, and the two of you settled on two of the seats.

“I have seen you a few times; I guess you visit the language school nearby? Ah, I am Yunho, nice to meet you. I believe you get out at Parkroad Station?”

You were surprised to learn that he did pay attention, not only to what kind of book you carried or that he did notice you after all, but also which station was your destination.

“Oh yes, I am almost done though; there are just two more lectures and it will wrap up. I was thinking about taking the next level entry though!”

Your words were rushed, and he chuckled.

“Learning a new language is good fun! I’d encourage it if you are enjoying yourself.”

He really was sweet, trying his best to cheer you up although you were strangers. Finally, you offered him your name and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

This wasn’t how you had imagined approaching him, but now you were just glad the two of you finally talked.

“I … noticed you too, but I admit, I was too nervous to say hi. It was nice; I felt safer waiting for the bus so late, knowing I’d not be alone,” you mumbled softly.

Yunho seemed surprised before smiling back.

“Same here. We always have a team meeting on Thursdays, but I am the only one without a car… it’s nice to know I am not alone taking the bus.”

“Oh, I feel that! Everyone at my language class takes a car except for me.”

The two of you laughed, but you realized your station was coming up soon.

Yunho looked at you before opening his bag again and pulling out his business card. You weren’t surprised to see he was head of his department — he really seemed to be kind and smart.

“It’s late, and you should get home, dry up, but maybe … we could meet for a coffee? You could tell me more about your lessons and how you like the school. I was thinking about studying a new language myself.”

You carefully put it between the pages of the book.

“I will make sure to text you my number once I am home… and I’d love that. I’m off on weekends, whenever you are available.”

“Same here. I will call you tomorrow?”

The two of you looked at each other with a smile before your station was announced, and you pushed yourself up.

“I am looking forward to it,” you bowed, and this time, you were quite sure to see how his ears were just a little red.

As you stepped outside of the bus and turned around, Yunho had moved over to a window seat; he was waving to you until you were no longer in sight.

“Wait… is that a date?!”

[postmortemnivis]

"why're you here?"

you never knew much about javier peña. 

his voice was always sharp anytime you tried to ask for something about him, and you felt so pathetic each time he’d snap at you after your sweet toned questions. you’d tried to tell yourself that maybe he was just shy or reserved, but you knew too well he wasn’t either of the two.

what you did know for a fact was that he would never call before 11, he’d never talk much about himself—whether it was his personal life or his family—and he didn’t care how long he’d been ignoring you; he’d still call without shame, and then he knew how to hit all your right spots.

“hello?”

it had been almost three weeks since you had last seen javier. at first you felt bad, mostly about yourself, you knew the way you were letting him treat you was shit, but then you started missing him. how pathetic of you, you repeated to yourself any time your mind would linger on him for too long. he could sweet talk you into murder.

“¿cariño?” a husky voice asked. 

you checked the time on your watch, but you knew who it could be. it was twelve minutes before midnight, right on the spot. 

“yes?” you sighed into the phone, holding it tighter, scared you would break it. 

“why’re you still up?” javier asked, and you could hear him inhale from his cigarette. that you knew, that he would always be seen with a cigarette between his lips. maybe that’s what you missed about him: the smell of smoke, whiskey and something woody that you couldn't get your head around.

you were pretty sure that your craving, your depency, your addiction-like to him was caused by all the cigarettes he’d smoke around you, you’d grown addicted to them too, therefore, to him. knowing the man as much as you did, he could’ve done that on purpose.

“what if you woke me up?” you asked back. was being smart a good idea? with peña, probably not.

not as if you had been waiting days for this call. 

he coldly chuckled. “i saw a light in your apartment still on about ten minutes ago.”

“you were under my apartment ten minutes ago?”

“ajá,” he said, exhaling now, “drove past it and stopped for a while.”

“for a while?” you sporadically would glance at the street outside during the dark hours: when living in medellín, it was best to keep your mouth shut and eyes closed, better not to see anything that could cause you troubles. 

“more or less forty minutes.”

“what’d you do for forty minutes under my apartment?” you walked to the big windows in your living room, which overlooked the street. moving the curtain with your fingers, you checked the silent and empty street. nobody to be seen. 

“lookin’,” javier inhaled again, “at you. what i could see, your silhouette from the curtains. always told you that place didn’t give you any privacy.”

“why didn’t you come up and say hi?” you asked. 

were you… teasing him? how pathetic of you, you thought. 

the man sighed. “want me to come up and say hi?”

“well,” you sat on the couch, “you haven’t talked to me in three weeks, that would be nice.”

“three weeks, already?”

“time flies when you’re having fun.” you almost snapped. that would make him win the little stupid game he was playing. you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. you brought both of your knees under your chin as you leaned on the backrest. deep breaths. 

“i’ll come over now then.” he said. 

“i’m going to bed now,” you tried to stop him, playing disinterested, but you could hear the hesitation in your voice yourself, “maybe another time?”

“i’m already dressed, nena.” he said and before you could complain again, he hung up. 

it was after ten minutes, the time that took from his place to yours, that you heard a knock on the front door . 

“cariño.” javier peña greeted as you opened the door. he was leaning his shoulder on the doorframe, arms crossed. how cliché of him. 

“javier.” you crossed your arms over your chest, imitating him. 

he stared down at you for a brief second before you realized, the worn out dark grey shirt you were wearing was his. it was too big on you, reached almost halfway through your thighs, just below your ass so the curve was still visible, and he wondered if you were wearing anything underneath. he hoped for those cute light pink panties, the ones with a hole on the side from him pulling the lace down too harshly once, the last time you two saw each other. 

“you left it here, after a week of no reclaiming it becomes mine.” you said, trying to defend yourself as he stepped into your apartment, and you closed the door, locking it. 

“i don’t care, quédatelo.” he breathed, sinking into your couch, not even bothering to remove his shoes or his jeans jacket. 

you stared at him as he took his gun out of the back of his jeans and placed it on your coffee table along with his badge. 

“what, aren’t you gonna ask me if i want anything to drink?” javier smirked. 

you rolled your eyes before making your way into the kitchen. “want something to drink?”

“no,” he said from the living room, but you could hear his grin “i wouldn’t want you to feel constrained.”

you walked back to the living room, rolling your eyes once more.

“javier, listen-”

“javi,” he interrupted you, his dark brown eyes not leaving yours, “not javier. go on, nena.”

you looked at him, he was waiting for you to keep talking as he got himself comfortable, spreading his legs open like the whore he was. he knew your eyes would linger on the bulge in his jeans for one second too long. 

“javi,” you sighed, and the texan nodded. it wasn’t like you never called him javi, but now he was on your nerves, or at least you had to pretend he was, “you can’t keep doing this…”

“what?” he asked, his arms on the headrest of the couch, finally comfortable. 

“this.” you waved your hands in the air. “you’ve been ignoring me for weeks, almost a full month.”

“i’ve been busy.” he said, before adding, “with work.”

you rolled your eyes. you’ve known him for months and he always used that excuse. sure, trying to catch the most dangerous narcoterrorist drug lord in the world did take away a lot of his time, but one call?

“you know it keeps me busy, cariño.” he sighed, and you thought he was trying to convince himself more than you. 

“i don’t believe it.”

he raised both his eyebrows, tilting his head slightly lower. “no?”

“no.” you spat, crossing your arms in front of him. “i don’t believe you’ve been busy for three whole weeks, day and night.”

“i was away too,” he said, getting up from the couch and walking closer to you, “they sent me to chile for a while.”

“and they don’t have phones there?” you asked as he softly took you by your elbows and drew you closer. 

he didn’t reply. 

“bizarre, i thought you remembered my number since you’ve called me multiple times from pay phones.”

he sighed again, his face closer to yours. “i’m sorry nena, i really am.”

“for…? disappearing from my life every two months?”

he shook his head. “no… actually yes.”

his big hands grazed your hips, slowly sliding on your soft skin, underneath the hem of the shirt. 

“either yes or no, peña.”

he nodded. “yes, i’m sorry. perdóname.”

you shook your head. “not so easily.”

he tilted his head to the side, like an animal seeing something unfamiliar for the first time. 

“it’s honestly… exhausting having to put up with you, you know?”

he nodded, chuckling as you put little force into trying to push his chest away.

“exhausting…” he repeated on your lips and you nodded, your arms wrapping around his neck instinctively, “now, now.”

“extremely.” you nodded, biting back a smirk. 

“i can imagine…” his lips brushed over your jaw, his tone still teasing and unserious. he never took his actions seriously, at least not with you. he was a beast outside your apartment, one of the most dreaded dea agents there were, but with you—it was different, he’d return to his almost boyish personality. he needed someone he could be himself with, his old calm and immature self. 

“i’m so serious this once, peña.” you muttered, your eyes looking at the ceiling as he started kissing your neck, your fingers resting on the base of the back of his neck, twirling the ends of his hair.

“oh, i know you are, cariño, i know how serious you are.” javier breathed on your neck as he lazily kissed it up and down.

you sighed again. you knew how serious you were. 

“javi…” you sighed. 

“mhm?”

“why're you here?” you asked, looking anywhere but into his eyes

he stopped and took your chin in his hand. “mírame.”

in the months you had spent together–and not–you had learned to recognize and understand most of the phrases of spanish he usually muttered to himself, picking them up. pride and joy were displayed on his face anytime you’d tried to repeat something yourself, even if you got some pronunciations or verbs wrong, he'd praise you as if you had just given a speech on micromedicine or astrophysics.

that was what fucked your mind, he made you feel so special.

“why are you here, javi?” you asked again.

“can’t i see my favorite girl anymore?”

you rolled your eyes. what about the other girls? you bit your tongue from asking. 

“you don’t bother to call but now you want to see me?” your eyes looked up into his, looking for some answer behind them. 

he shrugged. “i know you think i’m an asshole.”

“oh, i know you are, believe me, i know.”

he rolled his eyes. 

“cmon i wanna make it up to you cariño.” javier’s voice was as confident as always, he knew he had you in the palm of his hand, you’d do anything, you’d listen. 

“mh, how?”

“i’ve got a few ideas in mind…” he grinned. 

you shook you head. “nah-uh.”

“nah-uh?” he asked, tilting his head to the side once again as his brows furrowed. 

“no.” you remarked, “i’m not one of your prostitutes, javi. you can’t just… fuck me and leave me like a doll, y’know?”

“you sure do look like one-”

one of his whores or a doll? you’d ask that later. 

“save it.” you bit back a grin. 

“can’t compliment you anymore?” he raised an eyebrow, a smirk crawling upon his face.

you shook your head, placing your hands on his broad chest. “i’m not something you can use and toss, you know? it hurts me. you hurt me.”

his cold heart, that usually barely cared about himself, let alone other people, seemed to miss a beat. 

javier knew he hurt you, how he was hurting you and how’d he hurt you. he knew he was a selfish person, so selfish he didn’t even care about himself. was it fear of commitment? his incapability to love? he could fool you and everyone else but he could not fool himself. he just didn’t care enough. 

“i’m sorry nena.”

“are you?” you placed your hands on your hips, “are you, really?”

“you know i am.”

bullshit. deep down you both knew it was bullshit. 

“mhm…” you hummed. “i just feel-”

“im sorry.” javi repeated, “you know it hurts me too to stay away from you.”

“does it, now?”

he sighed. “it… does.”

“doesn’t look like it.” you comment. 

“well, im sorry i don’t cry if you don’t call me every other hour.”

“hypocrite.” you spit. 

javier peña was a man of patience, he liked to think of himself as one, but really his temper and anger often took over him. with you, it was different, you rarely poked a reaction out of him. you knew javi as a calm and charming man, not the irascible, short tempered boy he was still inside. 

“what?”

“you heard me.” you look up at him as you finally distance your bodies. “a goddamn hypocrite, that’s what you are, javier. you can’t treat me like this!”

“i’m not treating you-” he attempted to defend himself before one of your neighbours yelled something through the walls. 

cállense todos! 

it was after midnight, and you couldn’t blame them. 

“you treat me like one of the whores you can call up anytime you feel like fucking.”

“i don’t do that.”

“last time i saw you, and the one before that and the one before that too.”

“don’t talk like i'm holding you prisoner.” javier remarked, trying to keep his voice down this time. “you can ignore my calls if you feel that way.”

“oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” you took a step closer to him, an accusatory finger pointing at him, “so i’m out of your hair for good.”

“yeah, do that, one problem less.” he rolled his eyes.

he pinched the bridge of his nose as his other hand went to rest on his as your eyes started watering. 

“you know- you know i care about you.”

you shook your head, walking to your bedroom. 

he sighed, following you. “nena, you know i care about you. deeply.”

“why’d you never say that before then?” your red eyes studied his.

“i did.” javier replied, “i’ve told you. i’ve told you i love you, for christ’s sake.”

“grunting you love me when you’re balls deep inside of me doesn’t count as a love confession, javier.” you pointed out as you sat on your bed, sinking in the comfort of his scent mixed to your perfume that lingered everywhere in the apartment. 

“i’ve…” the mexican seemed at loss of words, his usually know-it-all demeanour falling down, “doesn’t that count as love?”

you didn’t laugh at his attempt to lighten the mood. “no.”

“i’ve showed you i love you-”

“we talked about it, everytime i try to talk to you about this, us, you brush me off.”

“no need to label-”

“bullshit!” you cried out, more tears pouring down your cheeks like a mountain stream, warmer and saltier. “fuckin’ bullshit, javi… you break my heart every fucking time you walk out of that goddamn door, and i’m left in the puddle of confused emotions you leave me in. sometimes i feel like i'm drowning in it, and i feel so damn pathetic every time you call me up, saying you missed me and all that shit, so pathetic because every time i let you back in my life.”

“done crying?” if looks could kill, he’d be long dead, but luckily for him your eyes alone can’t cause a satellite to crash him. 

“when you stop being an asshole, yeah.” you sniffle. 

“again,” he murmurs, caressing your cheek, “i’m sorry cariño. really sorry.”

he knew you wouldn’t believe him, sorrys weren’t what you wanted. you knew it better than him.

you also knew that arguing was pointless, you had just said it yourself, no matter what you’d let him slip away and right back into your life.

you sighed as he rested his arms at your sides and kneeled in front of you. “i do love you.”

“god,” you sniffled, dramatically rolling your eyes, “didn’t mean to cry.”

he wiped your tears away with his thumbs as his hands cupped your cheeks. 

“shit.” you hissed, wiping the mascara off your cheeks, hoping the stains wouldn’t make you look like a raccoon. 

but javi didn't seem to care, ever the gentleman. 

“lay down with me, nena, mh?” his voice, now soft, asked, and you reluctantly let your shoulders fall onto the mattress. 

“you should’ve listened to me,” you croaked as he lay down on his side next to you, “shouldn’t have come here.”

“i should listen to you more, eh?” javier tried to cheer up. 

“why are you like this?” thousands of doubts flooded your mind. were you not lovable, not pretty or funny enough? was it because your laugh was always a little too loud and your crying face not as cinematographic as other girls? maybe it was the way you never seemed to quite catch the right note of your favourite song or that you’d lose all your femininity when you watched fútbol games with him? perhaps your scranky spanish? no, it wasn’t you. javier perfectly knew it wasn’t you.

“i often ask myself that question, nena.”

“mhm, me too.” you rolled your eyes as he caressed your cheek.

“let’s just sleep it off, ¿vale?” javi whispered, brushing a lock of hair out of your eyes.

you sighed, opening your mouth and immediately deciding it’d be better not to ask.

“what is it?”

defeated, you regained some hope. “will you be better in the morning?”

a childish, foolish, naïve and unnecessary question. you both knew he wouldn't.

“of course.” he answered anyway, that liar.

he kissed your head and engulfed you in his big and strong arms as you two laid down on your bed, your back pressed into his chest.how pathetic of you.

[unsoundedcomic]

Whumptober 2024 - 10&11 - "Blow to the Head" & "Double Vision"

Durlyne let the Tanners have the slums and, in exchange, the Tanners did not often venture into the city's ghers nor its moneyed streets. This rule wasn't written down anywhere nor ever even said aloud; it seemed instead branded on local hearts. Durlynians learned it in the way that children learned knives were sharp and stoves were hot.

The Tanners had been Lemuel's boogeyman the first ten years of his life. Afterwards, he met the world's scarier monsters, but tales of the Tannery rogues had primed him for them: throatcutters, twin takers, back flayers. Hides from the Tannery were the finest in the land, for they did not skin the swine nor stag; Tanners skinned the man.

If you stayed out of the slums though, a lad was safe. A careful lad was safe.

So why, today, was the Sheriff of White Hill constabulary laying murdered in his fine home? His whole family, in fact, was murdered. A wife, two little boys, an infant girl, and even the family kedises slashed to death in their drawing room. Lemuel didn't understand it, but it was hard to question: one of the assassins had been caught trying to put the manor to the torch afterwards. A Midmolil boy for sure. An oily little throat-cutter called Corley Full Tang. By dawn, the inquisitors would twist him into shapes that did not yet have names.

But right now, his two accomplices were flying through the labyrinthine slums beyond Blue Boy Bridge. And Lemuel Adelier wanted them badly. He was only a week returned home from the army, freshly recruited to the Lions of Mercy. He was a Lion! They could never send him away again.

As long as he was a GOOD Lion.

"Take some care there!" Duane called after his brother, egging his mount on until it ran apace with Lemuel's panting bull , "You don't chase the viper into its den; you don't put yourself alone in the dark with it!"

Lemuel barked a laugh. "Home to the wife then if you're afraid, old man! Did you not see the blood in the Sheriff's home? From corner to corner it pooled! Over tin soldiers and a Tainish primer it pooled!"

Lemuel didn't have to turn to see the words had struck. There was a six month old baby girl in his brother's home now. Never again would he be fighting fully armoured. "Of course I saw it," Duane snarled, "And my prudence is not fear, ye strutting cock! Do as I say and wait for reinforcements. Do not ride off unbuttoned in your shortclothes and embarrass me, the one that brought you here. This isn't Chinoll!"

"Embarrass you!" Lemuel echoed, "Embarrass you!"

"Do you not covet the snakes? Know your place or the closest you will ever be allowed to a vliegeng are their dung heaps!"

"I don't need your permission! I'll find them!"

The Adeliers had been born and raised in the Godkiller's city, and though Lemuel had always respected his grandfather's advice to never venture beyond Blue Boys Bridge, he knew the Tannery's mark as well as any other local with a sense of self-preservation. As his hound snuffed after the villain's scent now, he noticed that mark mysteriously absent from the walls. Should the killers not be running back to their den, or at least towards the assurance of their own territory?

Lemuel was about to make this observation aloud when a door blew open, and eyes flashed in the night. "There!"

A throwing knife shot wasp-like from Lemuel's hand. The figure in the doorway yelped (Lemuel distantly hoped he had not just murdered a washwoman) and bolted from the building towards a break in the opposite wall. Clattering to the pavement, the knife didn't stick, but Lemuel's dog was already pounding past it, leaping, landing hard on the rogue's back. Lemuel dismounted like a diving raptor, sailing over the hound's head and to his prey's side.

"Some viper!" Lemuel grabbed his collar, hauled him to his feet. "More a worm slinking on his belly through the dirt! You slaughtered that entire family, and not a drop of blood on you! Look at the professional, Duane! Look at the coward!"

The elder Adelier pulled his hound up sharp, oozing disgust. "Excrement in a suit," he hissed, "Child-killing trash that would make a liar of Sonum Ssael when He taught every man has in him the way to His side. WHY! Who hired that hit, demon?"

Lemuel punched fingers into the knife slash in the assassin's coat, then ribs. The move would have felt more satisfying with a clawed gauntlet, perhaps, but it still produced a warbling, ricocheting scream. Blood oozed, and stuck the contents of the rogue's opened pocket to the LIon's punishing hand.

"Stop it!" Duane demanded. Lemuel did it again. Oh, Duane professed to loathe this sport, but he'd deliver this bastard to the inquisitors without a qualm in his heart. Ha!

"Sing for us!" Lemuel snarled, "Sing! Or I let you live to see the pit! And by God, if you do, you'll wish I'd taken your liver-"

The world offset suddenly, violent as a rutting vliegeng. Lemuel's vision exploded silver, and it was his turn to be on the ground. It was happy to catch him, but then he couldn't lift his newly wet head nor remember what he'd done with his legs. Fearfully Duane snapped his name but it was only his shadow that approached. Then in a mighty leap it cleared him, and Lemuel saw his brother bolt to the far end of the alley, palms flashing green spellfire. There was an exchange of pymary there, too fast for Lemuel's concussed brain to follow. Duane would win of course. It was hardly worth watching. Perhaps he'd give that show a miss entirely…

When next he opened his eyes, Lemuel was in his bed at the Temple barracks. Pink sunlight filtered through the high slits in the walls. He felt warm and sleepy and doped with something that he thought he'd like a second helping of.

"Oh, no, no," admonished Leysa, pushing him back down. Drugged or sober, Lemuel was powerless to resist. He lay obediently paralysed by the same tone of voice his new sister-in-law used when telling Duane he WOULD be playing cards and smoking with her father and his friends tonight.

"Where… is…?"

She smiled, grim, and fixed the cold rag back on his forehead. "Duane is choosing the 'most cross and callous tyrant in the Temple' for the task of interrogating the man he caught last night. Those terrible criminals nearly had the undoing of you, sweet boy, and you know your brother is one to take that personally."

Lemuel shut his eyes, giddiness and nausea battling for control of his stomach. "He… will wring his hands over insulting a hackney… until one he holds dear is threatened. Then, he would challenge God."

"I confess it to be a quality I adore," laughed Leysa. Lemuel thought she had the most musical laugh. He felt singularly accomplished when he could produce it. "Please do not mistake his nature for hypocrisy. Recognise that it is love."

"I fear… I embarrassed him last night."

"You are his brother. It is why brothers are. I did not see embarrassment when he laid you here in your cot however, nor after he had sent for his own sleeping wife to tend you. I only saw-"

"Love. It's how he gets away with everything."

Leysa laughed her songbird laugh, carefully petting his head. She liked him, and Lemuel still couldn't figure out why. He rubbed his eyes, cross, then felt a stinging spot suddenly at his side. His blood-sticky fingers found bandages there, and produced great agony when he pressed them into his abdomen. Leysa captured his hand, shushing him.

"Now, I told you they nearly had the undoing of you. After his friend struck you with that spell, the man you were on top of put a knife into your side. He's still out there, somewhere, but no concern of yours. You need to rest. I will have the cleric bring more medicine."

Hard breaths through his nose. Lemuel bade the pain subside as his mind raced. None of this made sense… but he would NOT be Duane's embarrassment. "Please," he agreed with Leysa, "More."

===

Double Vision

A few hours later, his hound was happy to see him, though Lemuel wondered why the kennel lads were keeping the animals two apiece in their stalls today. As he neared, careful not to seem in a hurry to the attendants, the pair of dogs resolved into one.

Oh.

He wanted to shake his head to clear it, but was certain that would result in a swoon. God's Beard, could he ride at all with his eyes half-crossed by the Temple's finest unguents?

They'd killed the pain at least. Lemuel was able to swing onto his saddle with the barest grunt, and only the slightest tickle of oozing blood from his stitched side.

"We don't have a lot of time before Leysa returns," he murmured. The dog whumped and beat its tail twice. Leysa'd gone home to feed the new baby, but she'd threatened him with strangulation if he moved from the cot. That's why Duane had sent for her. It had nothing to do with her laugh nor her kind eyes nor any particular skill she had at pressing cold rags to hot foreheads. Duane simply thought he'd mind her more than anyone else. Well! The great Duane Adelier was not so wise, was he!

He'd said papa would be coming to visit soon too, after the shop closed. That would not control him either! No, no. That only motivated him to put himself elsewhere. He did not need to see the old man's pity; that look in his eyes with which he had always regarded his youngest son. That look. That inscrutable LOOK.

I'm sorry you're not your brother.

To hell with it. Lemuel had investigative work to do, and some degree of personal honour to restore.

He made it over the Bridge in an hour, sticking to the low streets and away from the busy market corridor. Passing over the river, it was grey and berg-bloated, bottles and trash choking the banks. In the wan afternoon light, Lemuel looked down at his gory right hand. He squinted, willing his vision to align and read to him the torn scrap of paper stuck to his palm.

"Gherson Oa"

It had been in his would-be murderer's pocket. Was it a street? None that he knew. Perhaps a business name somewhere in the slums?

Once he'd reached the mouth of the alley, Lemuel left his hound and proceeded on foot. The wine-coloured stain half-way down the filthy corridor left him even sicker in his middle. He saw Duane's prints in it, a wild frenzy of boot soles and bloody knees. Slashes where his coatskirts had dragged through the seeping red.

"Love," Lemuel whispered. Of course Duane loved him. And he loved Duane. But there was not one Goddamned thing in the world that love could mend. Ssael spoke of honour, of duty, of responsibility towards family, faith, and country. If the Godkiller had thought more of love, He'd have said so. Let love be for mothers, fathers, and children. Let it be for people who knew how to laugh.

Quietly, carefully, Lemuel eased open the door from the night before, the one from which his attacker had bolted. It was unmarked. The lock was broken. Freshly broken. The knights and constables must have already been through here?

Aye, the small room inside was a mess. Turned over tables, papers scattered, a wooden trunk opened with pymary and all its contents emptied into a heap. Lem crossed the room and descended a hobbled set of wooden stairs leading out the back. They led to a basement converted into an equally disastrous kitchen. Its upholstered chairs had been slashed open. Sawdust hung in the air. Lemuel had to squeeze his nostrils shut for if he sneezed he was sure he would split open.

That's when he saw it. Sitting on the dark counter admidst overturned mustard jars, half a loaf of stale bread, and a few broken jars of pickle, he spied a canister with its label torn.

"tmeal," it read.

Sweating through his uniform, Lemuel affixed to it his own bloody scrap of paper.

"Gherson Oatmeal."

He breathed a chuckle, expression a rictus of triumph, and unscrewed the top.

There was only a dead mouse inside.

"Bleeeeeeding heeeeell," he moaned. Duane would laugh at the soldier brat thinking he'd figured out something clever. The Temple's finest men had swept through here. If there was anything to be found, they would have found it!

But there WAS something to find! Something about the entire assassination was wrong. The Tanners would not have ventured to the Sheriff's very home to kill him. They would not have killed the entire family, enraging the rest of the city. They would not have been caught in the act! And a Tannery assassin would not have stabbed a knife into an unconscious Lion and failed to have it kill him!

Amateurs! These were amateurs!

But wait, wait, wait.

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

Duane had spoken in the past of pymarics with material triggers. Doorways that only opened if certain keys or materials swept into their questing field.

"Is there a dead mouse door?" he asked the room.

Well, not in the north wall. He held the oatmeal canister in front of him like the world's least successful alms cup, rattling the limp rodent inside, running it past a framed calendar, a faded old poster for the General Foundry's playhouse (destroyed in a fire years ago), a shelf of tin tea canisters and detergent boxes. Nothing. Nor did the east wall budge, nor were there any likely apertures to the west, which was covered over with dusty shelves, a grimy wash basin full of dishes, and a stove missing its grills.

"An embarrassment!" he despaired, holding his head. He felt weak and sick. Blood dribbled down his hip and made a wet, cold streak in his trouser leg. They would never give him a vliegeng. Newly arrived and already put in his cot by some son of a bitch wright; by some cowardly murderer with an oatmeal label in his bloody coat. Probably the lunatic only kept it to roll a weed fag! Piqued, furious at himself, Lemuel threw the canister and its forlorn dead occupant to the floor-

Which dissolved beneath his feet. Into perfect powdery blackness, Lemuel fell.

Concluded here.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Kinktober Day 11

Day Ten | 🌹Kinktober Masterlist🌹 | Day Twelve

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked.

Notes: This isn't technically Bruce and Shop Girl, but it can be read that way. That said, because it isn't technically them, it will not be linked on the masterlist for The Other Half.

Warnings: Blindfolding; hide-and-seek/prey-play adjacent; blowjob; cunnilingus; vaginal sex; unsafe sex; creampie

“You ready?” 

“You don’t need to ask,” Bruce argues.

You fold your arms across your chest, taking a good, long look at him. He’s just a few feet away—shirtless, wearing a pair of light grey sweatpants. The view you have of him is one that most of the women in Gotham would likely envy…Save for the fact that his eyes are covered with a bandana, wrapped and tied as tightly as he could stand. You take the opportunity to blatantly roll your eyes, turning toward the crate of bean bags. 

“I saw that," He warns.

Your jaw drops open in shock.

“Fuck off, there’s no way.”

Bruce laughs, and you huff, lobbing a bean bag at his head. He swats it away without hesitance, shifting and waiting for the next one. 

“Little shit,” You mutter, throwing the next one. He catches it, lobbing it back. You yelp, ducking out of the way. 

“Hey! That is not the point of the exercise.” 

“What is the point, again?” 

“You’re slowing down, old man.” 

You grin as Bruce’s jaw tightens. Christ, that’s a good look. You so rarely see Bruce stern like this. You almost never see him as Batman—at least, not up close. When you see him like this, it’s…Intriguing. You swipe your tongue across your lips, stepping as silently as you can to a different side of him. You watch him closely, wary of him showing any signs of catching on. You throw one at him underhand, and he catches it, then tosses it away again. Dangit. 

“How are you,” You toss one, “So,” Another, “Frickin’,” A third, “Good at this?”

You aim the final one directly at his head. He doesn’t miss a single one, either dodging or swatting them away as he inches closer and closer to you. Your stomach swoops with panic. You stop heeding your attempts to be quiet, hurriedly pelting Bruce with the bean bags as you scramble to get away. When you run out of them, you turn your back to him, scrambling to reach one of the discarded bags. You don’t get far. Your fingers just graze the fabric, scrabbling for it as Bruce’s arm hooks around your middle. You shriek as your back meets his hard chest, your heart pounding as he presses tightly against you. 

“Call me an old man again,” He murmurs low in your ear.  

“Why?” You fight to keep your tone steady. “Did it turn you on that much? Should’ve told me sooner.” 

He huffs softly, turning his head just a touch, his lips brushing against your ear. 

“Tell you what,” He murmurs, thumb sweeping along your side. “You run, and you hide, and we’ll see just how fast I find you.” “With the blindfold on?” 

“Of course.” 

You bite your lip, considering for a moment. 

“What happens if you can’t find me?”

“We can do whatever you want.” 

“...With the blindfold?” 

“Like I said,” He draws back with a pat to your hip. “Whatever you want.” 

“And what if you do find me?” 

“We do whatever I want.” 

-- 

You have to be judicious about your hiding place. The Manor is so vast, and there are so many rooms that you’ve never gotten around to exploring. Now isn’t the time to poke around. You need your hiding place to be strategic. You need a spot that you know well already—one with good cover and where you can fidget without making much sound. You’re awful at sitting still in general, and worse still when you’re stressed. 

You duck into the kitchen, looking around. Bruce gave you a two-minute head start, and you trust him to keep to it, and not to remove the blindfold. Still—with how easily he’d managed to defend against the bean bags, you’re not certain you’ll be able to hold out long. You look around hurriedly, beginning to panic. Shit, shit shit shit. Where can you hide? In a cabinet? In the pantry?

You turn, spotting the long table in the middle of the room. You hurry over to it, gently lifting the chair at the head of the table back. You hurriedly crawl under the table, sliding the chair back in as quietly as possible. You lay down on your belly and draw in deep, even breaths, trying to calm your pounding heart. It’s going to be fine. It’s going to be fine. Bruce probably isn’t going to bother to look for you down here.

-- 

The padding of his feet makes your heart leap into your throat. Your hands curl into fists, and you swallow thickly. Keep calm. Keep calm. Deep, even, quiet breaths. You don’t dare move a muscle. You glance up, spotting Bruce’s feet as he walks deeper into the room. He’s moving slowly, with care. You can hear him sweeping his hand across the cabinets, knocking his hand across the countertops. You glance over, tracking his feet as he walks slowly around the table. Your stomach swoops as you hear him lifting away the chair at the other end of the table. You hesitantly lift your head, turning it slowly to look at Bruce. 

He crouches beside the table. If he didn’t have his blindfold on, you’d be almost certain that he was peering directly at you. It’s a long, harrowing, silent moment before he straightens up. You puff out a quiet, relieved breath. He’s missed you, thank god—

You scream as his hands close around your ankle, yanking you out from under the table. You pant, panicked as you roll onto your stomach, batting at his chest as nervous giggles burst from your lips. He grins, grasping your wrists and pinning them above your head. His smile is bright, giving you a good view of his dimples. You giggle again, shifting beneath him. 

“That was stupidly fast.”

“I didn’t cheat,” Bruce insists. 

“I know you didn’t.” 

-- 

Your eyelashes brush against the scratchy fabric of the bandana as you feel the cool marble of the floor against your bare body. You can’t see him, but you can feel Bruce all over you. You can feel his lips brushing against your neck, his chest pressed hotly against yours as his hips rolls against yours. He’s hard and hot against you, his thigh is tucked between your legs for you to grind up against. 

You whimper softly, pressing up against him as much as you can. His hands are grasping your wrists still, keeping you prone no matter how much you struggle against him. You raise your legs, hooking them around his, and fighting back a warming swell of embarrassment as he chuckles. 

“I didn’t think you’d get this turned on from a little game of hide and seek,” He teases. 

“It wasn’t that. At least—it wasn’t just that.” 

“Oh no?” He tips his chin up, nipping your earlobe. “You wanna tell me just what it was?” 

“Bruce,” You whine softly, grinding down against his hard, muscled thigh. “Are you gonna be a dick and drag this out, or are you going to give me what I want?” 

Bruce hums thoughtfully, and you feel his body lift away from yours. You can hear him shifting, feeling the grip on your wrists turn. 

“I thought that the deal was that if I won, I could have whatever I wanted," He reminds you.

“What do you want?” 

You wait for a few, harrowing, silent moments before you feel the brush of his cockhead against your lips. You part them, swiping your tongue across the head. You hear Bruce groan softly, feel him pressing more deeply into your mouth. You bob your head, taking as much of him in as you can with your neck craned in such an awkward position. Bruce lowers his hand to trace the swell of his cockhead as it presses against the inside of your cheek. His fingers trail down your neck, along your clavicle before delicately swirling around your pebbling nipples. You strain up into the touch, whining in frustration as he never quite makes the contact that you’re aching for. 

You pout as you feel Bruce draw back. Before you can complain, he slaps his slickened head against your lips again, groaning softly as you stick your tongue out for him. He curses under his breath, giving his hips one more harsh shove before he pulls away again completely. You frown as his grip on your wrists slackens, then disappears completely. Your stomach flips with anticipation and confusion as you feel him grip your thighs, spreading them wide.

The first hot swipe of Bruce’s tongue against your needy pussy makes you moan, your hands blindly scrabbling for purchase. You finally hook them in Bruce’s hair, using the grasp to steady him as you drive your hips down against his lips. You can feel the vibration of Bruce’s soft chuckle, chased by the tug of him drawing your clit between his lips. You pant softly as you drive into the sensation. You raise a hand from his hair, teasing your breasts and swiping over your tender nipples as Bruce laps hungrily at your folds. 

You press your heels down against the cool tile, thrusting your hips up against him. If he keeps it up, just like this, you could just—

You whimper, loosening your grip on Bruce's hair as he draws away. Before you can lower your hand between your legs to finish yourself off, Bruce catches hold of your wrist, using it to tug you up off of the floor. You let him maneuver you, straddling his lap. You can feel his hard cock nestle against your pussy, sending a wave of anticipation through you. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, following his guiding touch as you sink down onto his cock. 

Your eyelids flutter beneath the bandana, your breath catching in your throat as you adjust to the feeling of him. You wind a hand into his hair again, brushing your lips along Bruce’s cheek, then lips as you’re able to find them. Bruce curls his arms around your waist, holding you still as he begins to thrust into you. Your kisses turn to open-mouthed brushes and exchanges of breath as he sets a punishing pace. You can’t help the moans and whines that fall from your lips, uncaring of how loud you’re being. 

Bruce seems to care, though. 

Your world floods with light as he tugs the bandana down from the back of your head, using the hold on it to tuck it between your lips. You bite down on it, whimpering brokenly as he keeps a tight hold on the fabric. You take in Bruce’s face—his darkened eyes, the flush that’s risen up in his cheeks, his pinked, kiss-plumped lips. You watch him dip his head to your neck, feel the way his loving kisses roughen, turning to nips and bites and sucks. His pace becomes more frantic, his thrusts harsher, almost aimless. 

You gasp sharply as he tips the two of you, cradling your head as he lowers you back down onto the floor. He plants his knees and grasps your shoulder, driving into you at a relentless pace. You slip a hand between your bodies, swiping over your tender clit until you’re tightening around him, your muffled shout dampened by the gag. Bruce’s hips pound against yours until they stutter and slow. You sag against the floor as you feel him spill into you. He bows over you, resting his forehead against your shoulder, then slowly drawing away, settling on  the floor beside you. 

You reach up, gently prying the gag from between your lips, swallowing dryly as you peer up at the ceiling, your heart still pounding in your chest. You feel Bruce turning to look at you, hear his contented sigh before he asks, 

“What was that about me slowing down?” 

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @phoenixhalliwell ; @wild-rose-35 ; @daisyslibrary ; @informally-liz ; @andrastesflamingtitties ; @muchacha-encabronada ; @nerdygirl0414; @elen-aranel ; @ohbee-whatcanyoube ; @kmc1989 ; @quietpainter ; @thedreadandthefugitivemind ; @kaletastrophes ; @nyx2021

[celiastjamesoscar]

Umbrella Paradox pt 2

Pairings: Sam Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: you get a call while you’re at work about an attack on civilians, only to found out the one hurt is none other than Sam.

Warnings: described sutures, light cussing, suggestive themes, Tara being a menace

Read part one here

Word count: 7.4k

It was a peaceful night at the station that Y/N had hoped for. She desperately needed to get caught up on paperwork; tonight was the perfect time. The big hand on the clock slowly made its way towards the 11. As Y/N recalled all the events during a car crash last week for her report, her mind slowly drifted back to her Sam. It had been a dreadful week since she last tasted Sam’s lips, and she longed for them. She missed basking in her presence and that beautiful smile that rarely happened.

Of course, Y/N had tried to reach out to Sam, stalking the coffee shop like a weirdo, but she got no results. She’d go in once in the morning and once more at night, hoping to see the pulchritudinous woman. She’d spend roughly thirty minutes in her corner booth before grudgingly leaving the cafe. One time, however, she got called out on it.

It was late at night, close to twelve in the morning, when someone sat in Y/N’s booth across from her. Y/N looked up from her soup and stared at the person. She knew she had seen them before but couldn't recall when. She was getting ready to ask the person who they were before they spoke up for her, “Looking for Sam?” They asked with a smirk and narrow eyes as they intertwined their fingers.

Y/N’s eyes darted around the cafe, seeing it was empty except for a young author writing his screenplay. She turned to face them before speaking, “I have no idea what you’re talking about-” she glanced down at their nametag-“Mark.”

They let out a small chuckle as they stared Y/N down, “Yes, you do. You’re the one who walked Sam about a week ago. I’d assume you’re why she keeps picking up extra shifts.”

Y/N looked back up at Mark when they mentioned her walking Sam home. She instantly remembered Mark as the coworker who hid in the kitchen when she met Sam. She started to bounce her leg, not knowing how to respond to them. “Why are you asking me if I’m here for Sam then?”

“Because I think it’s cute,” they said with a genuine smile, the first one of the evening. They unlaced their fingers and leaned back against the booth, “Sam’s only worked here a few months, but the way she smiled at you. Man, I’m jealous.”

Y/N smiled when Mark mentioned how Sam smiled at her, glad she wasn’t imagining things. “So, can you tell me when she works again? I would like to see her again soon,” Y/N asked with a hopeful smile as she leaned her arms on the table.

Mark let out an evil chuckle as they stood up from the booth, “oh, no, sweetheart. If I told you her schedule, that would take all of the fun out for me,” they said as they disappeared back into the kitchen. After that, Y/N looked around uncomfortably before slowly leaving the booth and the cafe.

Sam also tried her best to work more, picking up any free shift she could just in the hopes of seeing her EMT. Her head would perk up every time the bell above the door rang, but she would hang her head in disappointment when she saw it wasn’t Y/N. She started to kick herself for not giving Y/N her number, but she also liked this game of hunting and searching for each other. Somehow though, they always managed to miss each other just by ten minutes, which was quite pitiful.

As Y/N wrote down the crash details, her partner approached her desk and kicked the side, startling her. “We got a call from Abe’s Snake Bodega. A group of kids attacked some people, leaving a couple of them bloodied up and bruised. Grab your gear; we leave in three,” Winston said before he walked off again. Y/N let out a small groan; her shift ended in thirty minutes, and she could not wait to go home and sleep, but of course, someone just had to get into a fight.

Winston was Y/N’s best friend and roommate. They grew up together and were practically inseparable. He was a little shorter than Y/N, standing at about 5’7, and had short blonde curly hair with piercing blue eyes that freaked Y/N out. There have been several occasions where Y/N threatened to buy him brown contacts, as he sometimes resembled that one picture of Miley Cyrus, and Y/N sometimes hung it up on his bedroom door.

Once Y/N finished writing her sentence, she stood up, stretched, and grabbed her bag before going to the ambulance. “Nuh uh, get out now,” Y/N said as she walked towards the front of the vehicle and saw Winston on the driver’s side.

“It’s my turn to drive it, Y/N,” he exclaimed as he crossed his arms, throwing his version of a tantrum. “You drove last time.”

Not wanting to fight, Y/N scoffed as she walked to the passenger side, ignoring the happy dance Winston did in his seat. “So, if a fight broke out, why are we going? Can’t they just go home and clean themselves up?” Y/N asked once she sat down and put on her seat.

Winston started the vehicle and pulled out of the station before responding, “Yeah, I slightly lied about that,” Y/N sent him a death glare as she placed her medical bag on the floor between her legs, “one of the kids pulled out a knife, attacked someone with it before the cops intervened.”

“This person better be so close to death that they already have a toe tag on them,” Y/N said as she leaned back into her seat with a sigh, causing Winston to laugh at her actions.

When they arrived at the scene, they both let out a groan. They would have to storm through a giant group to find just one injured person. “Alright, the scene looks safe, and only one person is reported injured. I’ll ask the cops where the person is; you check on the crowd. Is that alright with you?” Y/N asked as she exited the ambulance with her bag, already donning her white gloves.

Winston nodded as he followed behind Y/N while also putting on his gloves with his medical bag slung over his shoulder, “sounds good, captain.”

The pair push their way through the crowd before finally seeing what happened. There’s a woman in the back of the police car, screaming her head off about being mistreated and being placed falsely under arrest. From What Y/N can tell, the woman’s friends are arguing with two police officers, saying that their friend didn’t do anything wrong and was defending herself. They all looked familiar as she studied the group, even the lady screaming like a banshee. Y/N just couldn’t place a finger on where she had seen them before but just shrugged it off as a weird coincidence.

Another cop was standing next to a smaller group of people. One was sitting on the ground with their back turned to Y/N with a smaller person leaning on their shoulder. A more prominent built man talked with his hands, explaining the whole story to the officer. From what Y/N could tell, the man's sister would occasionally butt in, correcting his story as it seemed he liked exaggerating details.

As she approached the group, the cop looked up from his notebook and pointed toward the two people sitting on the sidewalk's curb. Y/N nodded her head as she walked towards them. “Hello, my name is Y/N, and I’ll be examining your wounds.” She trailed off when she saw who was sitting on the ground.

Sam looked at her with a weak smile as her right hand pressed against her upper left arm. Her hair was slightly wet, and some stuck to her face and neck. She was wearing a white bare-shouldered sweater, and if this were a different circumstance, Y/N would have complemented it; she still might. Y/N noticed the blood that had started to seep into the white cotton, and a frown overtook her face as her blood began to boil. She glanced over her left shoulder to look at the woman in the squad car; she had to psychically hold herself back from walking over there.

She quickly turned her attention back to Sam, “I can clean it here or back at the ambulance,” she spoke with that soft tone Sam remembered, along with her gentle eyes that never strayed too far from Sam’s.

Sam looked down at the more petite girl still on her shoulder, “Let’s just stay here; I need to keep an eye on everyone.”

Y/N nodded at Sam’s words as she looked for somewhere more comfortable to sit. Her eyes instantly landed on a rectangular metal picnic table underneath a tree. Sam followed Y/N’s eyes before standing up and walking with Y/N. The smaller girl followed closely behind.

Sam sat at the end of the table on the right as Y/N sat to the left of Sam, her legs straddling the bench. The smaller girl sat across from the two, her narrow eyes constantly stalking Y/N’s every move as if Y/N was going to hurt Sam rather than patch her up. Y/N placed her bag on the table, opened it, and pulled out the suture kit and scissors.

Sam watched Y/N with tender eyes. She was scared that Y/N had to see her like this, covered in her own blood with a nasty cut on her arm that won’t stop bleeding even though she’s been covering it with napkins. “Can you move your hand for me?” Y/N asked, quickly pulling Sam back to reality. She had a pair of scissors in her hand, and Sam looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “I have to cut your shirt to see the full damage.”

“Oh, okay,” Sam replied as she pulled her hand away, along with the bloody napkins. Sam looked back at Y/N to find the woman already looking at Sam with those loving eyes she missed so much. If her baby sister weren’t sitting across from her, Sam would have kissed Y/N.

Y/N placed one hand on Sam’s arm while her other held the scissors, cutting away the fabric. Once she had cut out a square in the clothing, she placed the scissors down along with the cutout clothing. The cut was six inches across Sam’s arm and would need stitches. Y/N sighed as she grabbed hydrogen peroxide and poured some onto a small bandage. “This is going to sting. I'm sorry,” Y/N whispered as she pressed the cloth against Sam’s arm with her right hand.

Sam let out a slight hiss and tightly shut her eyes but relaxed once she felt Y/N’s left thumb rub her arm. Once Y/N deemed the wound clean, she removed her hand and the bandage and placed it on the table. She popped open the suture kit and got the needle and thread ready. “The cut isn’t deep, but it will need stitches,” Y/N explained as she moved the needle toward the center of the cut, “this will hurt,” Y/N said as she pierced through Sam’s skin and pushed the needle through, causing a groan to escape Sam’s lips.

Sam went to grab the bench so she had something to squeeze onto, but her left hand accidentally landed on Y/N’s mid-thigh. Y/N’s eyes quickly snapped to Sam’s hand, and Sam expected Y/N to tell her to remove her hand, but Y/N just gave her that gentle smile reserved for Sam, silently telling her it was okay.

Sam visibly relaxed once she saw Y/N give her the okay, and she gently traced small circles onto Y/N’s thigh with her thumb. Y/N smiled at the woman’s actions as she continued the suture. “I have to ask you some questions. Is that alright with you?” Y/N asked while looking at Sam; her hands stopped momentarily.

“Yes, of course. Go ahead,” Sam responded too quickly, causing Y/N to smirk and Tara’s eyes to dart back and forth between the two women. She started to pick up on some tension between the two when they first sat down, but now, judging from Sam’s quick response and Y/N’s smirk, this wasn’t their first meeting.

“Do you know what today’s date is?” Y/N asked with a more serious tone.

“July 7th, 2023,” Sam replied through gritted teeth while squeezing Y/N’s thigh. Y/N almost had to bite back a moan at the pressure.

“Okay, can you tell me your full name and date of birth?”

Sam scoffed at the question and looked at Y/N; the poor girl had a determined look on her face as a bit of her tongue stuck out, clearly trying her best not to hurt Sam while giving her good stitches. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask for my report; I need to determine your level of consciousness,” Y/N defended when she felt Sam’s glare.

“Samantha Carpenter, May 19th, 1997,” Sam replied worriedly. She figured she was older than Y/N, but now that Y/N knew Sam was older, she hoped the age gap didn’t ruin anything between them. As if reading Sam’s thoughts, Y/N spoke teasingly, “Happy birthday then, Samantha.”

Sam rolled her eyes and scoffed at Y/N’s words, “Almost two months late,” but she squeezed Y/N’s thigh to signal she was joking.

“Better late than never,” Y/N replied with a cheeky grin as her eyes never left Sam’s arm.

Y/N finished stitching up the right side of the cut and quickly tied it in a knot. “Okay, I just finished the right side; now I will suture the left side,” Y/N said as she looked into Sam’s beautiful brown eyes.

She desperately wanted to kiss Sam. No, she needed to kiss Sam. She felt as though she might die if she didn’t feel Sam’s lips against her own soon: like they were her lifeline. She needed to feel those soft lips against her own but was pulled from her daydream when someone cleared their throat, “So, are you two a thing?” Tara asked with an eyebrow raised and a smirk on her face.

“No.” Y/N and Sam stated simultaneously, looking at each other with wide eyes as Tara replied with an ‘uh huh.’ Too ashamed to respond, Y/N returned to stitching up Sam’s arm.

“Well, Chad explained the story to the cops, but I had to give them real details,” the woman from earlier said as she walked over to the group. She quickly raked her eyes up and down Y/N and put her arms behind her back before speaking with a flirtatious tone, “Well, hello.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered over to the woman; she was maybe around Sam’s height, but it was hard to tell. She had long, curly black hair and pretty brown eyes. “May I help you?” Y/N questioned as she focused her attention back on Sam’s arm.

“Once you're done with Sam, I need to be examined as well. I think I might need a back brace,” the woman said as she pretended to pop her back, then stuck her hand out towards Y/N, “Im Mindy, by the way.”

Y/N looked back at Mindy and moved her hand that wasn’t holding the needle, showing the woman that her hands were quite busy with Sam, as they had her blood on them. “I'm Y/N, but I think you’ll live. If you need immediate medical attention, my partner is over there,” Y/N motioned with her head over to where Winston was standing; he was examining one of the girls who had gotten punched by someone. But by telling How Tara kept rubbing her right hand, Y/N guessed that she found the assailant.

Mindy let out a small groan as she leaned back dramatically, “Come on, dude! I’m trying to flirt with you! You know, hitting on you.”

“I know. I appreciate your affection, but I already have a lover,” Y/N said gently as she looked at Mindy and Sam before returning her eyes to her sutures. Sam’s mind went blank When Y/N said she had a lover. She wasn’t sure if it was Sam or someone else, but her heart swelled at the thought. Sam gently squeezed Y/N’s thigh, hoping to ground herself as she thought about being in a relationship with the woman.

“A ‘lover,’ you are so formal you’d definitely drive me insane,” Mindy grumbled as she sat beside Tara, watching Y/N’s skillful hands on Sam’s arm.

Sam cleared her throat, drawing the attention of everyone at the table, “Tara, can you go pull the car up here? I’m ready to go home once this is done.”

Taking the hint, Tara stood up from the table, dragging Mindy, who complained about ‘having to leave the pretty woman behind.’ The two quickly grabbed Chad, who was still bragging about his act of heroism to bystanders.

“I thought they would never leave,” Y/N remarked once the group was out of earshot. Sam let out a slight hum and rubbed her hand across Y/N’s thigh, but that was shortly lived as Y/N scolded her, “Don’t move your arm too much, Sam! You’ll mess up the stitches.”

She rolled her eyes but looked over her shoulder to see her pretty EMT, “you know, I miss the Y/N who would joke with me and run in the rain with me.”

Looking up at her with narrowed eyes, Y/N scoffed as she spoke, “That Y/N was in a better mood because she wasn’t having to put 15 stitches in your arm.”

Sam didn’t respond, just nodded at the woman’s words. Feeling a little bit of shame for her words, Y/N quickly placed a kiss on Sam’s open shoulder before returning to her work. Sam felt her entire body heat up as she felt Y/N’s lips on her shoulder. She wanted more of Y/N, but now was not the time or place for such tomfoolery.

“You know, you don’t have to get hurt just to see me,” Y/N said with a cheeky grin as she tied the last suture. She then took out some gauze and wrapped it around Sam’s arm.

“I know, but apparently, that’s been the only way to reach you,” Sam replied as she stood up from the table while Y/N properly put the used needle in a sharps container and disposed of the bloody bandages.

Y/N stood up from the table and placed her bag over her shoulder as she spoke, “Yeah, and who’s fault is that?” She asked with a playful smirk.

Remembering that Sam had told Y/N she knew where she worked when asked if Y/N could see her again, she mentally slapped herself. “Okay, I will admit that that might have been my fault,” Sam said with a smile as she looked into Y/N’s beautiful eyes before quickly glancing down at the woman’s lips. “Would you like to come back to my place? As a way to thank you?” She asked hushedly, almost afraid someone other than Y/N might hear her.

Y/N smiled at Sam as the two began walking toward the car Tara pulled up. The pair both ignored how Tara somehow managed to bring the front right and back right tire onto the sidewalk. “I’d love to, but I have to clock out at the station and pick up my car,” Y/N said with a slight tone of disappointment before quickly speaking more enthusiastically, “but you could always send me your address, and I could drive there. But you know, that would require you to give me your phone number.”

Sam rolled her eyes at Y/N’s suggestion but pulled out her phone nonetheless. “Here, put in your phone number, and I’ll send you my address,” Sam said as she handed Y/N her phone. Her heart fluttered when she saw Y/N’s gigantic smile and the hearty eyes she sent Sam as she grabbed the phone.

Putting in her phone number, Y/N decided against putting a heart next to her name, figuring it would be too quick, and she didn’t want Sam to feel like she was pressuring her into anything. So, she simply put ‘☂️⚕️’ next to her name.

Sam smiled when she saw the emojis, especially the umbrella one, as her mind instantly went back to running in the rain with Y/N. When they reached the car, Sam gave Y/N a gentle kiss on the cheek, whispering in her ear with a playful smirk, “See you tonight.” Sam ignored the way Y/N’s face turned beet red while wearing the love-struck smile that only Sam got.

Y/N waved back at Sam as she walked away, smiling as she watched the older woman fight with her sister for the driver’s seat. Once she walked away, her phone dinged as she got a text message from an unsaved number, but she already knew it was Sam. It was an address followed by ‘Would you want to make dinner together when you get here?-Sam’. She smiled at the message before responding, ‘Of course!’.

After she sent the message, she walked over to Winston and slapped him on the back as she spoke, “All done here?”

“Yeah, I'm ready to go home and sleep,” Winston said through gritted teeth as the slap sting traveled through his back.

“No, you’re not. You’re going to go home and watch ‘Dirty Dancing’ while crying,” Y/N joked as the two began walking back towards the ambulance.

Winston quickly put his hand over his heart and sucked in a deep breath before exclaiming, “How dare you make such an outlandish accusation!”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I'm talking about!” Y/N rebutted while gently pushing Winston, “I’ve seen you on the couch while violently sobbing to that movie!”

“I can assure you that was not me.”

“If you say so, Winston.”

After their playful argument, the two walked silently the rest of the way. Once they arrived at the ambulance, Winston climbed into the driver’s side while Y/N entered the passenger side. They joked back and forth as they drove to the station. Once they arrived, they both climbed out with their bags and clocked out.

“I’ll see you at home?” Winston asked as they both walked towards their cars.

“I don’t know; I’m going to a friend’s house. I’ll let you know, though,” Y/N responded as she opened her passenger-side door and pulled out a gym bag.

Winston stopped his movements, holding his car door open, “A ‘friend?’” He questioned with a raised eyebrow.

Y/N turned to look at him, worried Winston might call her out on her bluff, “yeah, a friend.”

“Do I know this friend?” He asked back with a little bit of sass in his voice.

She let out a small sigh and reluctantly mumbled, “No, you do not know this friend.” She knew Winston would rip her apart for this, but she didn’t care.

But to her surprise, Winston just nodded before speaking in a southern accent, “Be careful? Ya hear? Too many people getting hurt these days!”

She let out a small chuckle at his words but knew that he meant well. “of course, Winston. I’ll text you when I get there,” she said as she saluted him.

Once Winston left in his car, Y/N walked into the shower room and turned one on. She’d hated arriving at Sam’s house smelling bad; she wanted to make a good impression on her, even though they’d already known each other for a week. This would be their first time hanging out with each other at a house, and she didn’t want to disappoint.

She opened her gym bag, placed her shampoo and conditioner on the shower floor, and then sat out her clothes and towel on the bench outside the shower. She quickly stepped into the shower, basking in the shower's warmth.

However, her mind was quickly filled up with thoughts about Sam. She was eager to spend the rest of the night with her, even if her sister and friends were over. She wanted to kiss her lips and call Sam hers, but she prayed it would be just them together.

——————————————————————————

When Sam saw Y/N wave at her, her heart doubled in size. She was going to wave back but was distracted when Tara bit her hand.

“Ouch! You little fucker,” Sam exclaimed as she drew her hand back.

“I am not giving up the driver’s seat!” Tara retorted while glaring at Sam. Sam looked in the back seat, hoping to get some support from the Meeks-Martin twins, but both gave Sam a look that said, ‘This woman is crazy; we aren’t arguing with her.’

Not wanting to argue with her sister, Sam sighed as she walked around the car and entered the passenger side. “Aww, I love you too, Sam,” Tara said once Sam got in and buckled up.

“Whatever, just make sure you don’t kill us,” Sam replied as Tara put the car in drive and drove off the sidewalk. Tara wanted to say something when all three passengers grabbed the ‘oh shit’ handle but decided against it.

Once she felt safe with Tara’s driving, Sam pulled out her phone and sent Y/N a text. She smiled when she got a reply within a minute. As she typed out another response, Tara turned down the wrong road, “Tara, you went the wrong way.” Sam stated as she looked around the car.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you, but I’m going to Mindy’s house for a girls' night. Would you like to come with me?” Tara asked as she slammed on her brakes, almost running a red light.

Trying to recover from whiplash, Sam responded, “No, that’s okay. I think I might have someone over.”

Someone could hear a hairpin drop in the silence of the car. No one said anything, afraid Sam would say she was joking if they did. “You’re joking. Right?” Mindy questioned, breaking the silence.

Sam turned towards her left so she could look into the back of the car, “No, I’m not. Why are you surprised by that?”

Mindy looked at Chad for help, but he just glared out the window, not wanting to get in trouble with Sam. “Mindy, what do you mean?” Sam pressed on, clearly upset by the woman’s question.

“She’s just surprised that you are inviting people over; that’s all,” Tara said as she kept her eyes on the road. Sam turned back around and looked out of the windshield. She crossed her arms and had a slight frown on her face, clearly not enjoying this conversation.

“It’s not like that. She's just a friend,” Sam defended with an annoyed tone.

Tara was going to ask Sam what she meant by ‘she’s just a friend,” but Chad interrupted her, “I love that song.” He smirked and received a low five from Mindy and Tara, the rest of the group picking up the meaning as Sam scoffed and looked out the window.

When Tara arrived at Mindy’s place, everyone got out of the car, “Girl’s Night also includes you, Chad?” Sam questioned as she walked around to the driver’s side.

He just shrugged his shoulders, “Nothing else for me to do. Unless,” a smirk appeared instantly on his face, “you want me to come over to your place and hang out with you and your lo-“

“Absolutely not.” Sam cut him off as she opened the door, “Be safe, you three.”

The three smiled at Sam and waved as the woman drove off in her car.

“Come on, let’s get girl’s night started!” Chad said eagerly. He wasn’t much for doing the activities Tara and Mindy did, but he enjoyed being in their company and listening to their discussions. It also gave him a reason to drink, but he wouldn’t tell them that.

Sam drove back to her shared apartment in silence; she could only hear her fingers tapping against the steering wheel. Her mind was filled with excitement; she had the apartment to herself and would take advantage of that. It had been too long since she kissed Y/N, and she needed just that after tonight’s events.

It was a typical night with the core four at the Carpenter’s apartment, but Sam felt like taking the group somewhere. So, they all piled into Sam’s car and went to Dave & Buster's. They all had a fantastic time; Mindy destroyed Chad in air hockey while Tara walked around and blocked little kids who were just trying to enjoy Super Shot. Sam tried her best to keep Tara out of fights with eight-year-olds.

They enjoyed a nice dinner along with some laughs. The night was one of the best since the move from Woodsboro, and they all forgot about their tragic past for a few moments.

But everything must come to an end, and as they were walking out, they ran into the same group of girls that terrorized Sam a week ago. At first, they didn’t say anything to Sam; they just glared at her as she left the restaurant. They were all standing outside, as they had a thirty-minute wait, and they had nothing better to do, so they just glared. Sam didn’t notice them, but she felt the hair on her neck stand up and subconsciously pulled Tara into her side. Tara looked around as she felt Sam’s arm wrap around her, automatically putting her on alert. Tara’s eyes quickly landed on the group of girls, “over there, by the Target,” Tara whispered to Sam.

Sam’s eyes darted to the Target, and sure enough, a group of girls stared down at Sam. “Come on, you guys, let’s go home,” Sam said to her group while holding Tara close to her side. Mindy and Chad both shared a look before quickly following behind the Carpenters.

The girls quickly started to follow them, and one called out, “Watch out, you three! She’ll get you!” Another girl shouted, “Murderer!”

“Come on, let’s just make it back to the car,” Sam said as she quickened her pace but abruptly stopped when Tara stopped walking. Tara quickly pulled out of Sam’s arms and marched towards the girls, ignoring Sam’s pleas to stop.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Tara demanded as she pushed the girl who called Sam a murderer.

She scoffed at Tara, “I don’t have a problem, I’m just trying to keep you safe,” she spoke in a fake worried voice as she looked behind Tara at Sam. Sam quickly grabbed Tara’s arm and whispered out a ‘let’s go,’ but Tara shrugged her off.

Tara approached the girl, causing her to look up at her, “She is the furthest thing from a murderer, you incompetent asshole.”

The girl pushed Tara and went to yell at her, but her words quickly died in her throat when a fist collided with her face. “Stay away from us,” Tara said as she grabbed her hand, not expecting it to hurt as much as it did.

When they started to walk away, the girl who was hit pulled out a small pocket knife and charged at Tara, slashing at the more petite girl. Sam heard the footsteps and quickly pulled Tara out of the way, but not in enough time to save herself, as the knife cut Sam’s arm.

Realizing the dangerous situation, Chad quickly wrapped his arms around the girl with the knife, holding her back from the sisters. The girl kicked and screamed as Mindy took the knife from her hand. A few bystanders intervened as well and called the police and an ambulance.

It was not the ideal way to start the night, but now Sam had the opportunity to make up for the stressful evening, and she would do just that. As she stepped out of her car, she googled ‘romantic meals for two’ and made her way back to her apartment.

Once inside, she grabbed some clean clothes and entered her bedroom bathroom. She turned on the shower and placed her clothes on the sink as she got out some saran wrap and wrapped it around her bandaged arm. When she finished wrapping her arm, she checked the water temperature and undressed once she deemed it warm enough. She sent Y/N a quick text before stepping into the shower and washing off the blood stuck to her skin. She quickly washed the rest of her body and hair, then stepped out of the shower and dressed.

She brushed and dried her hair with a towel after getting dressed. Once done, Sam returned to the living room with her phone and turned on the tv as she prepared the ingredients for the meal, patiently waiting for her Y/N to arrive.

——————————————————————————

Y/N was snapped out of her thoughts when her phone dinged with a text message. She wondered how much time she had spent in the shower as she turned it off and dried off. She dressed and put her dirty work clothes, towel back into her bag, and shampoo and conditioner. She then grabbed her phone and checked the text message.

Sammy 🌂❤️‍🩹: I just got home. You can come over whenever ;)

Y/N smiled at the message; she couldn’t control the blush that crept up her neck and how her heart fluttered at the winky smile.

Y/N ☂️⚕️: sounds good. I’ll be over in 10 ;)

She then grabbed her bag and made her way out to her car. She started her car and backed out onto the road as her phone connected to the speakers; the lovely voice of Hozier filled the air.

When she arrived at the apartment doors, she parked and sent Sam a message, telling her she was heading up. And as she promised, she also sent Winston a text telling him that she had made it. As she climbed up the stairs to Sam’s apartment, she let out a small laugh when she saw that Winston had responded with a picture of himself crying while Dirty Dancing could be seen on TV. She sent him back an ‘I told you’ then shut off her phone as she knocked on Sam’s door.

When the door opened, Y/N lost her breath. Sam stood before her with a baggy Mötley Crüe shirt and low-cut shorts. It wasn’t a remarkable outfit, but she still looked breathtaking. Her hair was still wet from her shower, and Y/N’s mind instantly became rated R.

Sam smiled at Y/N, then grabbed Y/N’s right hand with her left and grabbed her neck with her right. Y/N didn’t even have enough time to say ‘hello’ before Sam pulled her into her body and connected their lips. Time seemed to freeze for the two; their lips seemed to be the only things moving. The kiss was gentle and tender, filled with all the emotions they held for each other. Y/N sighed into the kiss and placed Sam’s right hand on her waist before moving her hands to cup Sam’s cheeks, deepening the kiss.

Sam felt her heart soar when Y/N cupped her face. She was ready to take things to another level, but not right here in the doorway. She placed one final kiss on Y/N’s lips before pulling back. “Hi,” Sam husked out with swollen lips and blown irises.

“Hi,” Y/N replied as she swiped her thumb across Sam’s bottom lip; her eyes never seemed to leave them. Sam felt her knees weaken at Y/N’s action but pulled Y/N into the house by her hand. “Come on, let’s get started on dinner.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Y/N said as she followed her like a lost puppy. She followed Sam into the kitchen, where several different ingredients were laid out before them: butter, lemon zest, lemon juice, cloves of garlic, salt, and pepper, some salmon fillets, six russet potatoes, M5 spice rub, and a little bit of chopped parsley.

“You seriously weren’t lying about this dinner thing,” Y/N stated as she looked around the kitchen.

Panic immediately settled in Sam’s bones, afraid she might have overdone it, terrified that she was trying too hard and she might push Y/N away. “Yeah, I’m sorry if it’s a bit much. We can order pizza if you like or do something completely different. We don’t even need to have dinner, just a nice night,” Sam rambled on as Y/N approached her and grabbed her hands, intertwining their fingers.

“I love it, Sam. Thank you for this. I haven’t had a homecooked meal in a long time, and I would love to enjoy dinner with you,” Y/N said in that gentle, loving tone that Sam loved to hear. It was as if angels were talking for Y/N.

Sam nodded, worried that her voice might break if she spoke. No one had ever been this gentle with her, and she loved it and hated it at the same time. She loved having someone who treated her like an actual person, but she was terrified that Y/N would hurt her in the end. But all her thoughts disappeared when she saw Y/N smile at her, that smile reserved just for Sam.

Y/N let go of Sam’s head and kissed her cheek before walking back to the table, “Alright, Sam, how do we do this?” She questioned while gesturing to the ingredients. Sam pulled up her phone and read over the directions. “Preheat the oven to 425 degrees Fahrenheit.”

Once they started the meal together, they enjoyed being in each other presence. When Sam was seasoning the salmon with salt, pepper, and butter, Y/N walked up behind her and wrapped her arms around Sam, giving her a back hug as she occasionally kissed her neck. When Y/N was slicing a potato crosswise, Sam did the same thing Y/N did, except she just rested her head on Y/N’s back–she couldn’t reach Y/N’s neck because of the height difference–and would place gentle kisses on her shoulder blades.

While Sam worked on the salmon, Y/N sliced the potatoes. They cooked in comfortable silence like they had been doing this for years. And their meal was complete within the hour: butter-baked salmon with Hasselback potatoes. Y/N made each of them a place as Sam grabbed a bottle of wine and poured each a glass.

They sat at the kitchen table opposite each other. They ate and drank together while talking about their day and what happened since they last saw each other. Once they had finished their meal, they cleaned up their mess.

While they were washing the plates side by side, Sam couldn’t contain her curiosity anymore, “Earlier, when you were stitching up my arm, you said you had a lover. What was that about?”

When the question had left Sam’s lips, Y/N automatically tensed up. Her heartbeat picked up, and her palms began to sweat. What if it had made Sam she said that? What if Sam only viewed her as her ‘long-term, long-distance low-commitment casual girlfriend? When she said that Sam was her lover, it flew off of her tongue, like her one purpose in life was to be Sam’s lover, in sickness and health, in life and death.

“I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable; I shouldn’t have assumed anything between us, and it was wrong of me to try and force you into that. I just spoke without thinking, and I’m so sorry if I ruined anything betw-” Sam’s lips quickly cut her off. The kiss was short and sweet, but it carried all the words for Sam which she could not form into sentences yet.

She pulled back from Y/N as she spoke, “I didn’t mind it, Y/N. In fact, I loved it, and I would like to be your girlfriend if you’ll have me.”

Y/N smiled down at Sam before gently kissing Sam’s lips as she rested her forehead against Sam’s, “I want you to be my girlfriend, Sam. More than anything I have ever wanted.”

Sam smiled at Y/N’s words and pulled back from her. She walked over to the fridge and pulled out a six-pack of Seagrams. “Well, let’s enjoy our first movie night as a couple,” Sam said as she walked into the living room, Y/N quick on her heels.

The two decided to watch La La Land as Sam sat with her legs in Y/N’s lap while Y/N rubbed her hand up and down Sam’s thigh. “No, Sam. Trust me, this movie will destroy you. You will never be the same,” Y/N stated while the first scene played out.

Sam rolled her eyes at her now-girlfriend’s words, “I highly doubt that,” as she finished her beer and grabbed another one off the coffee table. The couple were both more than tipsy but not yet drunk. Y/N already had flushed cheeks, but her skin got even warmer when Sam’s shirt lifted up as she grabbed herself a beverage. Y/N saw her defined abs and wanted to rip off Sam’s shirt more than anything.

When Sam sat back on the couch, Y/N’s lips were on hers instantly. The kisses were sloppy and needy as Y/N ran her hands underneath Sam’s shirt, pulling a moan from the woman. Their lips were capturing each other, and nothing seemed to keep them away. Sam’s lips slowly left Y/N’s as they traveled down her jawline and onto her neck. Soft moans escaped Y/N’s lips as Sam placed hungry kisses on her neck before gently sucking on a weak spot, pulling a louder moan from the woman.

When Sam finally had enough, she quickly pulled back and practically ripped Y/N’s shirt off her, throwing it across the room. She then pushed Y/N down onto the couch and continued placing kisses on Y/N’s neck before finally kissing her lips again.

Unbeknownst to them, the door shot open as Tara quickly walked into the room, “Hey, Sam! I’m here to pick up some-what the fuck?!” She stopped in her tracks as she saw Sam on top of someone.

The two quickly pulled apart as they heard Tara’s voice. Their eyes were full of lust, and their lips were swollen. Mindy stormed into the room when she heard Tara yell but was just as confused. “Aren’t you that EMT from earlier?” Mindy questioned with her arms crossed, a little upset she wasn’t in Sam’s current position.

Sam quickly threw a blanket on Y/N that was on the back of the couch, trying her best to cover up the girl. She turned around on the couch to face the two women. She was getting ready to speak but had no way to explain this. Y/n leaned up on the sofa and instantly felt shame and embarrassment.

Tara cleared her throat before speaking in a playful tone, “Well, you two certainly look busy. I’ll just borrow some of Mindy’s clothes.” She walked back towards the door but quickly turned around and pulled Mindy with her. At the door, Tara turned around and said with a wink, “Not a bad catch, Sam. She’s hot.”

“Have fun, gay people!” Mindy exclaimed as Tara dragged her out of the door.

Once the door was shut, Sam looked around the apartment, afraid that someone else might have snuck in without her knowing, and was waiting for the perfect time to embarrass her. She was only pulled back into reality when Y/N said, “I can leave if you want me to, Sam.”

Sam laughed at Y/N’s words, “Do you want to leave?” She questioned with a playful smirk on her swollen lips.

“No, I don’t.”

“Then stay here,” Sam said as she pulled Y/N back into a kiss. The only things that could be heard in the apartment were the kissing of lips and the soft playing of ‘Mia & Sebastian’s theme.’

AN: you guys should definitely watch ‘La La Land’ with Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone if you need a good movie to cry to.

Idea came from here

Taglist: @karsonromanoff

[aoioozora]

Simon.

Part 8

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

Character: Simon Riley / Ghost Content: Biker! Ghost x Fem! Reader, strangers to lovers, fluff, civilian au

Note: I still can't believe that I've written 8 whole chapters for a oneshot that I never planned on making into a series! But I'm glad it's coming along well and that you're enjoying it :) I hope you enjoy this chapter too.

Tags: @cmbghost @gluttonybiscuits @paintlavillered @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @iimichie

@mxtokko

“Morning, Simon!” 

____ and Lindsey arrived at Simon's door at seven in the morning as planned. His crush was the one who excitedly greeted him, while her friend looked disgruntled and ticked at having to be up so early. 

“Morning,” he greeted them civilly as his hand instinctively ran through his hair, trying not to appear even the slightest disheveled or flustered at the sight of ____’s smiles, and moved away from the door to let the two in. 

“Have a seat. I'll bring you some tea,” he said, promptly moving towards the kitchen. 

The ladies, particularly the author, took in the surroundings of his little flat as they entered and sat down. The entire place as a whole was simple. The walls of the living room were empty and unpainted except for a singular, ancient grandfather clock that hung alone near his curtained balcony, filling the quiet room with its rhythmic ticking. She saw that he was concerned more with pragmatics than aesthetics; if it didn't serve a purpose, then it wasn't needed. 

She saw that he favored dark colors of blue and black, and neutrals, but found that bright colors were speckled throughout the room in his red floor lamp, the gold painted knobs of his brown television stand, and the red and white chevron patterned cushions on his grey couch. The simple state of his room made her wonder if his bedroom was more personalised. 

A hint of green caught her attention and she turned to the balcony. A few potted plants of mint, tomatoes, and coriander, all of which were healthy and green, swayed gently in the morning breeze. She smiled at this. “He’s a gardener,” she thought to herself, not quite expecting it.

The smell of lemon and mint wafted through the air, bringing her thoughts back. Simon brought out a tray of three mismatched teacups and a glass teapot filled with what smelled and looked like lemon tea. 

“Have some tea,” he set down the tray on the coffee table and poured out the tea for them. 

She, wanting to use Simon as a model for her character, Frederick, watched keenly as he poured with a thoughtful, concentrated look on his face. She wondered why he used a glass teapot over porcelain or any other material, but that was probably not important. However, she was not going to let even the smallest things about him and his choices escape her scrutiny. 

“When will Johnny come?” asked Lindsey as soon as she had her sip of tea. 

Simon glanced at the grandfather clock. “At six forty-five, he said he'd be here in ten minutes. He's picking up our other friend, Kyle too. Maybe there's some hold-up,” he answered. He felt a little strange; it was his first time properly speaking to Lindsey, and she seemed to look judgingly at him, as if to find a fault. 

____ was silent, as she was more concentrated on the taste and temperature of her tea. It was lightly sweetened and refreshing thanks to the lemon and mint. A mental note was already taken that Frederick too would be good at brewing tea. 

Simon's ringtone tore the silence and he immediately slid the phone out of his jeans. Thinking it was Johnny, he looked expectantly, but it was his mum. Looking back at the ladies, he excused himself and went out to the balcony to talk. 

“What do you think of him?” ____ asked Lindsey, who took slow sips of her tea as the two watched the man pace around the balcony through the partially drawn translucent curtains. 

“He makes good tea,” she answered, “I think I'll approve of him a bit.” To Lindsey, a man who could brew a good tea was worth marrying, because, according to her, it meant that he cared about the little things, like making tea taste good. As ____ smiled, she paused for a moment before quipping, “He seems nice so far, but I don't trust him just yet.”

____ shook her head, chuckling. Lindsey was always so skeptical of everyone and everything, both a vice and a virtue. 

Simon soon emerged from the balcony into the living room, brows furrowed with concern. He looked straight at ____ and said, “I need to have a word with you, darling,” and then promptly stepped into the kitchen without waiting for an answer, expecting her to follow. 

She instantly set down her teacup and followed Simon into the kitchen. “What's the matter?” she asked as soon as she entered, finding him leaning his back on the kitchen counter, arms crossed. 

He turned to her, almost opening his mouth to speak but cautiously glanced at the open door; he looked back at her, beckoning her to come closer. When she did, he said, “I don't know how you'll react to this but I need you to hear me out, alright, darling?” 

Her curiosity heightened and she nodded.

“Y'see, my mum just called and they're going to have a family reunion soon since my old man's come back home for a holiday from his military service,” he paused, sucking in a sharp breath, unsure about how she would take his next words, but continued anyway, “And my mum asked me if I found a girlfriend yet because she's worried I'm going to die single…” he paused again, “and I may have accidentally told her that you're my girlfriend.” 

“You what?” she stared incredulously at Simon, although she wasn't quite opposed to what he did. 

“Yeah,” he sighed, shaking his head, embarrassed with himself, “I'm really sorry.” 

“Wait, does your mum know about me?” 

“Yeah, I told her a few weeks ago that I recently made friends with this lass,” he paused to sigh again, “And when she asked if I finally found a girlfriend, I accidentally said yes, and when she asked if it was you…” he paused again and shrugged. 

The lady paused. Now that he said it, it couldn't be helped and she had to play along. Not that it bothered her. She chuckled. “Well, it's alright. You take the trouble of pretending to be my boyfriend, so I guess it wouldn't hurt to pretend to be your girlfriend for a bit.” 

Simon looked back at her, visibly relieved. 

“Now, what do you need me to do?” she asked. 

“That's the hard part. We'll have to make up a story of how we met and how we hit it off. And I'll have to bring you home and introduce you to my family. And not just that, you know who else will be there.” He pursed his lips tight. 

She immediately knew. She wiped her clammy hands on her jeans and nodded. “Right, yes.”

He could see the apprehension on her face and in her body as she crossed her arms. Feeling terrible that he dragged her into this, he said, “Darling, you don't have to do this if you don't want to. If going there and meeting him again will make you uncomfortable, then I'm not forcing you to come with me.” 

She drew in a shaky breath and pondered for a moment. Simon watched her, gulping harshly. 

“No,” she finally said, resolute, “I shouldn't be so scared all the time. If I'm going to be there as your girlfriend, I shouldn't be afraid of some ex of mine.”

Simon blinked in surprise at this response. He appreciated her bravery, and felt his admiration for her increase. However, he didn't show it, and kept his facial expressions neutral with a little smile. “I guess, yeah,” he nodded. He paused for a moment, wanting to say something else, but she beat him to it.

“If anything happens, you’ll stick up for me, won’t you?” she asked smilingly, “Since you’re my “boyfriend”.”

He felt his heart leap. That was the exact thing he wanted to assure her of, and it flattered him greatly to know that they had been thinking of the same thing. Even though he knew this was going to be a pretense, it rubbed his male instincts and ego right to be depended on for protection. 

He answered with a wide smile, “Of course, my love.”

“Why d’ye drive a manual?” asked Johnny as soon as he took the shotgun seat, watching ____ take her place in the driver's seat. 

“Tut tut,” she shook her head, bringing out a mini sombrero from her pocket which she placed on the gear stick, “It's Emmanuel.”

The three passengers in the back, from left to right– Simon, Lindsey, and Gaz, watched as Johnny burst out laughing, also making ____ laugh as she got the car started. 

“Ghosty, she's a woman of culture!” Johnny exclaimed, looking back at his best friend. 

Simon made no answer as he was upset that he couldn't sit next to ____. Lindsey felt similarly, but for Johnny. Regardless of that, the drive began with gusto, with Johnny and Gaz filling the time with their singing and jokes, while the other three listened. 

____ drove for the first hour, and Johnny took over for the second and the two switched seats, exchanging jokes and quips with ease, making both Simon and Lindsey at the back miserable and jealous. Simon drove for fifteen minutes in the third hour until he nearly hit a tree, but swerved back to the road right on time to avoid damaging both the car and his crush's esteem. Gaz took over for the remaining forty-five minutes, and Simon was banished to the back seat. 

Thankfully for him, ____ sat next to him to console him, “Don't worry. After all, you did say that if you tried really hard, you wouldn't hit a tree. You did great for fifteen minutes at least!”

Simon chuckled out of embarrassment. It didn't make him feel any better, but he appreciated her effort. 

The camping spot was soon in sight. It was around ten in the morning when Gaz parked the car in the shed of a little cabin. The ladies learnt that the spot belonged to one of Gaz's relatives, who was happy to lend it out to anyone who needed it. And from how the three men scampered around the place relaxedly, it was evident that they were regular visitors. 

The fenced piece of land was right next to a little lake which afforded a view of the distant green hills speckled with heathers and daisies. A lonely little dock hung over the surface of the water, which, as Simon informed the ladies, “made a nice fishing spot”.

The group first decided to begin their hike as planned before unloading the car. England's weather was notorious for being fickle and since the skies were currently clear of all rain clouds, the hike was chosen as the first activity. 

The trail was an easy one, chosen for the benefit of the ladies who were partially accustomed to walking on rocky, uneven terrain. The end of it promised a little waterfall, which Johnny was excited about showing them, as was evident in his constant singing of sea shanties while they hiked. Gaz happily joined him, while the ladies and Simon chose to be their audience like earlier. 

“Johnny sure loves to sing,” observed ____, who trudged between Lindsey and Simon. 

“He's a born singer,” replied Simon with a sigh, sounding both proud of and annoyed with his friend, “And he was a theater kid too. Acted in tons of musicals and plays, mostly musicals. Put him together with Gaz and they'll be singing and dancing all day.”

She chuckled. “How long have you guys known each other?” 

“Johnny's my childhood friend. We've known each other since we were ten years old. As for Gaz, both of us met him in university and we quickly became friends,” he explained, kicking a rock out of the way. 

The two ladies looked at each other. “That's a long time,” remarked Lindsey, “You all must be really close then.” 

“Too close,” Simon said dryly, but there was a hint of affection in his voice. He then turned to the ladies to ask, “And what about you two? How long have you been friends?” 

“Since high school,” ____ answered, smilingly linking her arm with Lindsey's, “She's basically my sister now.” 

Simon smiled. He could tell, for the moment he saw them together, they stuck to each other like glue and didn't leave each other's side for more than a few moments. 

Johnny looked back at the calm trio behind him and Gaz. “Jolene!” He called Lindsey by her nickname. When he had her attention, he beckoned her to join him in singing. 

“I don't know any of the songs you're singing!” she protested. 

“Dinnae ye worry, wee lassie!” he retraced his steps, put an arm around her shoulders, and dragged her ahead with him, making her squeal and stumble. “Gaz and I will teach you!” he promised, and kept his arm around her as they hiked up the hillock. 

While the two men busied themselves in teaching Lindsey to sing ‘Bully in the Alley’, ____ and Simon were left to themselves. The lady smiled at Lindsey's attempts to sing, though she was no singer. 

“Lindsey hates singing,” she whispered to Simon, “It's crazy how she's doing it for Johnny.” A girlish giggle escaped her lips at the thought of a romance blooming between the two. Her authorly brain couldn't help but conjecture all the sweet moments they would have, worthy of a novel of its own. 

“And I'll tell you what, Johnny's never been this fixated on one woman for this long either. He's normally a huge flirt, a ladies’ man, if you will. I'm just as surprised as you are,” answered Simon. 

The mention of Johnny being a flirt worried her. She knew Lindsey to almost easily give her affections to anyone who would look her way, starved for love as she was. But she decided to stay out of the way and watch the two for now. If Johnny ever did anything that would hurt Lindsey, she would not hesitate to confront him. 

The hike was now proving to get a little tiring, and ____ let out a sigh as she paused to catch her breath and drink some water. Simon stopped too, looking down at her from the slightly steep ascent. 

“Are you tired?” he asked. 

“A little, yeah.” 

He bent his knee and lowered himself slightly, holding out his hand. “Come on,” he encouraged, “Just a little more and we'll be at the waterfall.” 

She took his outstretched hand, and no sooner they made contact, a jolt of electricity ran down both their spines. Simon gulped harshly at this reaction, and she felt an additional tingle in her stomach. His larger, more rugged hand held her softer and smaller hand in his, and he pulled her up the ascent with ease. She thanked him as soon as they were next to each other, Simon, eager to be of further assistance, held out his arm to her. 

“You can hold my arm if you want to,” he offered, trying to sound as casual as he could, though his thoughts begged her to give him the honour of accepting him. 

Her hand practically flew to his arm in an instant, wrapping just below his bicep. Simon never felt more depended upon than now as the two began walking together. And she was completely flattered by his kind offer, trying to suppress her smiles and blushes. The two were, without doubt, over the moon. 

The lady was sure to make mental notes about everything Simon did. Frederick would be tall and brooding, but a kind-hearted and observant gentleman with a soft spot for Adelheid.

“This reminds me of the Jane Austen novels where the men would offer their arms to the ladies when they got tired as they walked,” she commented with a bright smile and a certain twinkle in her eye as she moved closer to him, allowing her hand to curl tighter against his arm. 

He noted the expression on her face and the movement and instinctively flexed his bicep so that she could feel it. He smiled in response to her comment and said with a chuckle, his cheeks overspread with a light pink, “So it was a custom back then? Interesting.” He hadn't read a lot of Regency era novels to know of past English social customs, but he seemed intrigued by this one aspect that she mentioned. Wanting to know if she really approved of it, asked, “Do you like it?” 

She loved it, but for the sake of being mild, said, “I think it's nice, especially now when I don't see men doing this sort of thing.”

“So you like gentlemen then?” 

She giggled. “A lot.” 

Simon took note of this immediately. If she liked a gentleman, a gentleman he would be. If men of his day didn't do the things he did, like offering their arm, or pulling out the chair for her at a table, he most certainly would do it, for he didn't want to be like other men. He wanted to be special and singled out by her. 

They began descending down a slightly slippery, gravelly path that led to the waterfall, and Simon took hold of her upper arm this time as he led her down so that she wouldn’t fall in case she slipped over the loose gravel. He was reminded yet again of how much smaller she was compared to him, and it only heightened his desire to keep her safe. 

The gurgle and rush of water from the distant waterfall was soon heard, and a few meters of walking on level ground finally brought them to the waterbody familiar to the men. Johnny cheered like he never saw a waterfall before, loud enough for his voice to echo in the wilderness, and for Lindsey to cover her ears and curse under her breath.

“We're here!”

End of Part 8.

Part 9

Like always, leave a comment if you want to be added to my taglist!

[lloromanic0]

Just made this blog to post random smut I have in my notes app. I hope you like them x

Bill Kaulitz as an exchange student looking for an English tutor ;)

 

You woke up around ten am, looking out your dorm window contemplating the rain hitting the glass. After about five minutes you finally got up a started to get ready for your classes, you looked at your schedule that was hooked above your desk, today you had English C1, German B1 and English literature. You were a languages enthusiast you had always been interested in learning new languages you loved communicating with others so picking a languages major was the only right choice for you. Since you lived close to campus at 10:50 you started walking to class hopping to be there by 11. The cold morning breeze hit your face making your cheeks feel cold and look slightly red, the rain had stopped by now, but some drops fell occasionally from trees or rooftops. After around 7 minutes of walking, you finally got inside and went straight to class. You didn’t have many friends, just enough to keep you company during the long days at university. As you were approaching the big classroom you saw one of your friends that was a part of some sort of Student Council which welcomed exchange students, of course she was always busy talking to people, but she never made you feel left out. As you got closer to her, she immediately spotted you giving you a big smile and you smiled back at her.

“Good morning, Y/N!”

“Good morning, Amelie.”

“I’ll get in the classroom just in a second I’m just handing some fliers to the exchange students.” She said while still smiling at you.

You nodded as you looked behind her to peek at the exchange students, when one of them really caught your eye. A tall, slim man with long black hair was looking directly at you making you feel slightly intimidated by his aura. After engaging in this staring contest with him for a few seconds you got inside of the amphitheatre taking a seat close to the edge. 

 

Around ten minutes passed, and you saw Amelie walking inside the classroom looking for you, you waved at her as she gave you an expression of relief. She sat next you exhaling deeply and looking at you right after.

 

“Lots of work?” You ask. 

 

“Quite a bit, but you know me I love meeting new people and try to give them the best university experience even if it’s just for a semester”. 

She said smiling with her eyes closed. She truly had a beautiful heart. 

You smiled softly again, you liked to talk to people, but you also loved you alone time and well Amelie barely had any due to all her responsibilities and you weren’t about to sacrifice that, but you did help her anytime you could.

Then she looked at you, she looked a bit..embarrassed…you didn’t know how to describe her expression well enough.

 

“Y/N can I please ask you to do me a favor.”

 

Your face got a bit hot at the sudden request, but you nodded firmly.

She quickly exhaled and began to talk.

 

“So there’s this one German exchange student that speaks very poor English and he came to me asking if anyone would be able to tutor him so that he could communicate better with people and to also help him pass his classes while he’s here”

 

“Why me?” You bluntly ask. 

 

“Seriously? You’re a top student in English and you’re practically fluent in German you’re literally perfect to be his tutor!”

 

You kept silent for a bit. 

 

“Listen I know you like to have your alone time specially after classes but if you could spare 2 hours let’s say…3 times a week to help him it wouldn’t harm you…”

 

“Also he’s willing to pay...”

 

“It’s not about money Amelie. But since you’re my friend I’ll see what I can do to help him”

 

She smiled and thanked you.

 

4 pm

After your tree classes Amelie asked you to meet her at the student’s office so you could schedule a time to tutor him. You kept wondering who this German student might be. You entered the office closing the door behind you when you saw him. The tall slim man who was staring at you this morning. You got close to him trying not to blush again, Amelie appeared behind you making you jump a little.

“Hi! I’m so happy you came; this is Bill your new student.” She said giggling, also making Bill smile, you sat next to him.

 

“Hallo“ he said smiling.

 

“Was geht“ you replied. 

 

“I’m sure you’ll get along well” Amelie interrupted “So” she said while sliding you a piece of paper “These are the days that Bill is available for tutoring so you can see if it fits your schedule”.

 

Tuesday from 5pm-7pm

Thursday from 4pm-6pm

Friday from 8pm-10pm 

 

You looked through your schedule then looked up at them smiling slightly. 

 

“This is fine”

 

Bill looked very excited and so did Amelie.

You and Bill exchanged phone numbers and you three walked out.

«I can’t thank you enough Y/N! » Exclaimed Amelie.

Bill kept his eyes on you the whole time, you felt his gaze scanning your body it was hard to admit it, but you loved the feeling. You waved goodbye to both, and you tree parted ways. After the same 7-minute walk you did everyday you finally entered your dorm room and threw yourself on the bed. You closed your eyes starting to feel sleepy when suddenly your phone vibrated.

Texts

Bill: «Hope to see you tomorrow Süβe ;)»

You stupidly smiled at the text quickly snapping out of your daydreaming and giving him a quick reply.

«Yep, don’t be late :)» you placed your phone down and fell asleep a few minutes later.

You woke up the next day, it was a sunny morning today the warm sun felt comforting on your skin but it was still as cold as yesterday. You checked your phone for the time and noticed another text from Bill, your heart raced a little.

Texts

Bill

«Good morning, Miss what should I bring to class today? » you laughed a little at the nickname he called you.

«Your total concentration and maybe a notebook and a pen would be nice».

«Yes ma’am» he replied.

You only had 2 classes today so around 4pm you would be free so had an hour to prepare some sort of exercises for Bill to practice after class.

4:50 pm

After putting on some comfortable clothes you quickly set up your desk so that Bill had space to sit down, when suddenly you heard a nock on your door, the noise startled you but you quickly calmed down remembering it was probably Bill. You looked in the mirror for a second fixing your hair and makeup and then opened the door.

He was leaning on the side of the door frame towering over you as you stared at his figure.

“I thought you were going to leave me out here.” he said pouting his lips in a playful way.

You just laugh in response and tell him to get in.

“Do you want a water or maybe a snack?” You asked trying to make him feel more comfortable.

“Water please!”

You grabbed a bottle from your mini fridge and gave it to him.

“Danke.” He said

“In here we only speak English ok Bill?” You replied playfully.

“Yes ma’am”

You rolled your eyes and sat down next to him.

“So I prepared a list of things that I thought would be good for you to practice.”

You showed him the list: conjugating verbs, irregular verbs, pronunciation, correct way of writing sentences etc..

He read trough it as his eyes widened.

“So much….”

“I’m here to help you Bill we need to work on these aspects if you want to get better.”

He looked like a sad puppy he was so cute you couldn’t help yourself.

“Anddd if you do a good job I’ll even reward you.”

He look at you with a little grin.

“Can I choose the reward?”

You tilted your head and lifted your right eyebrow a little

“Don’t you think you’re asking for too much already?”

His cheeks got pink, you didn’t know if it was from embarrassment or shyness but he looked so handsome like that.

You cleared your throat and stared to show him some work sheets on verb conjugation.

5:45 pm

 “Professor…”

“No need to call me that Bill don’t be silly.” You said while giggling a bit.

“I can’t remember this one. I hate irregular verbs!” He exclaimed slightly mad.

“You can do it just think hard. After you finish that we can take a small break.”

His face instantly lite up as he worked hard on his paper. After a few minutes he finished it and as you corrected it,you told him he could take a break.

All of a sudden you feel arms wrap around you shoulders.

“Y/N are you done correcting? I thought you were taking the break with me.”

You gulped hard while you looked at his hands hanging from your shoulders.

“Bill…I need to correct this before we move on you know that..”

“But…” he slightly hesitated to speak “…I want you to pay attention to me”

His words made you bite your lower lip lightly.

“You can sit with me if you would like.”

He pulled his chair to sit down.

“Not there Bill.” You pulled yourself away from the table a little and placed your hand on your exposed thigh.

“Sit here.”

His face now painted red and his mouth slightly hanging open, he looked at you and you gave him a smile of approval. He walked over to you positioning himself on your lap. You placed one of your hands around his lower stomach making him exhale nervously.

“Are you comfortable?” You whispered. He nodded and kept still while you finished your work.

6 pm

“All done,you did quite well Bill I’m impressed.” your hand caressing his thigh.

“All thanks to you..” his voice slightly cracking.

“Are you ok Bill? If you don’t feel comfortable please tell me.”

“Y-yes I’m fine Y/N”

You looked over his shoulder and saw the evident tent in his pants,you licked your lips and slowly moved your hand up his tight.

He let out a shaky breath.

“What’s wrong mein liebe?” You asked innocently.

“Nichts…” his breath getting heavier each time your hand approached his erection but never touching it without his consent.

With that you took your hand off his thigh and flipped through some more work sheets.

“Warum hast du aufgehört!?” His tone slightly higher.

“English please.” You said teasing.

He scoffed “Why did you stop…?”

“Stop what Bill?” You whisper close to his neck.

“You stopped touching me…”

“You want me to touch you?”

He nodded, his breath getting heavier.

“But where Bill?”

He stopped for a second getting embarrassed to ask you to touch his throbbing cock that made his tight pants feel very uncomfortable.

“Tell me Bill…” You whispered in his ear starting to kiss his neck while rubbing his thighs again.

“Touch me between my thighs please…” he begged in a low tone.

“I couldn’t hear you baby can you repeat that?” You wanted to tease him until he got to his limit.

“Please touch my cock…It hurts so bad.”

“That’s a good boy, so obedient.”

You moved your hand up his tight slowly palming his erection through his pants.

You unzipped them and pulled his boxers down as his hard cock sprung out of them hitting his lower stomach. For such a slim guy he was definitely bigger than average. The pink head of his cock was coated in his precum,it twitched quite often desperately seeking some sort of stimulation. You hand wrapped around his base slowly pumping him, he whimpered and whined,your slow touch making him feel more agony rather than pleasure.

“Please…faster.” He begged,breathing heavily. You quickly complied to his request since he was being so well behaved. You stroked him faster as your wrist started to get sore but the erotic sounds he was making were enough to make up push through the discomfort. With one hand you massed his balls, and with the other you circled his tip with your thumb, he moaned loudly with the doble stimulation.

“Sshh keep it down Bill, you don’t want the whole dorm to know how much of a whore you are.”

“Sheiße….i can’t- I’m so close-“

“Cum for me liebe.” You ordered.

With a few more strokes he came all over your hands coating them in his thick semen.

“Thank you-thank-you..for helping me cum…” he kept thanking you as he laid his head back on your shoulder so that he could look at you.

You kissed him a few times complementing him, telling him he did a very good job and how he was such a good boy.

You helped him clean up and walked him to the door since it was already past time and you didn’t want your dorm mates to suspect anything.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at university Bill.”

“Yeah…text me when you get there.” He gave you a big smile.

“Will do.” You smiled as you pulled him down for one last kiss, this one being a little longer than the previous. You opened the door for him and watched him walk down the corridor looking back at you a few times, when you lost sight of him you closed the door and went back to your room.

[inlovewithfictionalmen7]

could i get a nikki sixx angst where reader thinks he’s cheating on her and they have a big fight but it ends up in fluff🙏🙏

thank you for requesting!! i hope you like it and its what you were looking for.

Misunderstanding 

Nikki sixx x reader 

Glancing at the clock on the wall for probably the 20th time since 11:30 pm, when Nixxi said he'd be home. It was no almost two in the morning. For the past few weeks nikki´s been getting home later and later from the times he says, he doesn't act like the guy y/n fell in love with. 

A thought crosses y/n´s mind as she sits on the couch waiting for Nikki to come home. What if he's out with another girl? What if hes fucking another girl right now? What-what if he doesn't love me anymore? y/n thought to herself. She's never let the thought of Nikki cheating cross her mind before but with how he's been acting she can't help it. 

She's so deep in her thought that she didn't hear the front door open and her boyfriend stumble in. Nikki stopped when she saw someone in the corner of his eye. Looking over at his girlfriend he walks over to her “hey babe why are you still up”  he says slurring some of his words. The sudden voice behind y/n made her jump and look up at the obviously drunk man. “I was waiting for my boyfriend who said he'd be home almost three and a half hours ago.” as the words leave her mouth nikki rolls his eyes. “I was out and lost track of time no big deal” he says throwing his arms up. 

“No big deal?!” y/n says rasing her voice “Nikki the past few weeks youve been acting diffrent, not coming home untill almost three in the fucking morning, probably out fucking some random bimbo, while im here waiting for you to come home so i know youre fucking safe!” she says standing  up, looking at her boyfriend who was making an extremely confused face. “Cheating? Are you serious y/n?!” he says glaring at her. “When have I ever made it so you wouldn't trust me? Huh?” nikki says getting in her face 

“Oh i don't know, not telling me where you've been, being distant, not having time for me anymore because if you're not doing drugs you're out doing god knows what!” y/n yells at nikki causing him to turn around, pick up a bottle of jack that he had left laying around one day and throw it across the room making it shatter. “y/n ive never even fucking thought about cheating on you, but you know what. Maybe I will if you already think I am” he says, looking her in the eyes. 

y/n´s eyes well up with tears but before she could say anything nikki starts “oh now you're crying. Typical” rolling his eyes he goes up stairs hearing her crying behind him. Once he's upstairs and in their room, he goes into his closet and shoots up. Reality of everything that happened tonight is sinking in. Nikki wasnt out with another girl, no other girl could even compare to his y/n, and to know that she thinks that low of him hurts a lot.

While nikki is upstairs, y/n is down stairs looking at the shattered glass with teary eyes. After almost ten minutes she decided to clean up the glass carefully. Once she's all done she slowly makes her way upstairs. When she entered the room she already knew nikkis in the closet, so she walked over, opened the door and saw Nikki lying on the ground, a needle laying next to him. Her eyes start tearing up again as she picks the needle up putting it into the trash before turning her attention to nikki 

“Nik? Wake up” she says rubbing his face a little until his eyes open looking at her in a daze, a big frown makes its way to his face when he remembers what happened “baby?” he asks sadly “come on nikki let's get you in bed” y/n says while trying to pull him up. “I'm so sorry y/n, i-i've never cheated on you i promise” nikki says turning to face her, putting his hands on her shoulders “please believe me sweetheart” he begs the woman in front of him. y/n smiles and leads him to the bed, and pushing him to lay down “well talk about this in the morning nikki, you need to sleep right now”  

As she gets into bed next to him he lays his head on her chest. “I love you y/n, more than anything in the world. When I'm out I'm just with Tommy and the guys drinking i promise” he slurs from both the drugs and tiredness. y/n kisses him forehead before whispering “i love you too nikki, now get some sleep” 

The last thing she heard before he passed out was a mumbled ‘im sorry’

[daitranscripts]

Skyhold Conversation: Krem

Tell Me About Yourself

Skyhold Masterpost

Available after Iron Bull's "Meet the Chargers" scene

PC: I wanted to talk about you, if that’s all right.

Krem: You know I’m from Tevinter. Wasn’t a slave, but even citizens have it rough if they’re not mages. I was a soldier, but women join the ranks under a different program. When they found out I was passing, it got ugly. I ran, met Bull near the border, and ended up here. Not a life I’d wish on everyone, but it’ll do.

1 - Dialogue options:

General: What is Tevinter life like? [2]

General: How did you end up leaving? [3]

General: Why do you pass? [4]

General: Goodbye. [5]

2 - General: What is Tevinter life like? PC: What’s Tevinter like for a citizen? Someone who isn’t a slave or a mage? Krem: I’m of the soporati, citizens who aren’t mages. Mages are in charge and everyone knows it, but a wealthy merchant can have an easy life. At the low end, people just try to stay out of slavery. My father was a tailor. I joined the army after the Imperial slaves drove him under.

Dialogue options:

Special: How did they do that? [6]

[Back to 1]

6 - Special: How did they do that? PC: How did slaves drive your family out of business? Krem: My father made shirts, aprons, that kind of thing. Nothing fancy. One of the magisters had a pet project, to prevent the poor from dying of cold in the winter. Nice, right? He had Imperial slaves making simple peasant clothes and selling them for almost nothing. That magister’s nice idea put out slave-made clothes at prices my father couldn’t match.

Dialogue options:

General: He had good intentions. [7]

General: Slave labor. Lovely. [8]

General: Who would buy those? [9]

7 - General: He had good intentions. PC: It sounds like the magister was doing it our of kindness. Krem: That’s the worst part of Tevinter: people don’t even realize they’re taking away your living. That magister wasn’t a terrible person. He probably saved slaves from dying. ㅤㅤ ㅤ 8 - General: Slave labor. Lovely. PC: It’s difficult to compete with someone who doesn’t get paid. Krem: That’s Tevinter. ㅤㅤ ㅤ 9 - General: Who would buy those? PC: Who would buy goods made by slaves, knowing they’d be hurting a citizen’s business? Krem: People with enough money for a new shirt or a loaf of bread, but not both. ㅤㅤ ㅤ 10 - Scene continues. ㅤㅤ ㅤ Krem: My father sold himself into slavery. He’s one of the servus publicus, the Imperium-owned slaves, now. [back to 1]

3 - General: How did you end up leaving? PC: You said you left Tevinter when they discovered your secret? Krem: Women are allowed to serve, but only in certain ranks and disciplines. I was up for promotion, but the healer I’d bribed to sign off on my physical had to tend a sick magister. When the replacement healer saw what was, or wasn’t, in my pants, he made threats. It was slavery or death, so I knocked him out and ran.

11 - Dialogue options:

Special: How did you get away? [12]

Special: Passing is illegal? [13]

[Back to 1]

12 - Special: How did you get away? PC: I’m surprised you escaped from the Tevinter Imperium so easily. Krem: It’s not like I lived in Minrathous. I was in Trevis, not far from the Nevarran border. It helped that I was being chased as a deserter, not a runaway slave. Slave-hunters only get paid for what they catch. They’re efficient bastards. [back to 11] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 13 - Special: Passing is illegal? PC: It’s against the law to pass as a man? Krem: It’s a crime to lie on an Imperial application for service. Would’ve been a heavy fine or slavery. For ten silvers, the healer said he’d tell the tribune I was sick in the head. Some pity for the mad little girl. That was when I hit him. I’d served for a few years. I was good at hitting. [back to 11]

4 - General: Why do you pass? PC: Why did you decide to live as a man? Krem: I didn’t decide anything. I’ve been like this my whole life. My parents wanted me to marry up. They tried to find me a nice merchant’s son. Every day, I’d put on a dress, look into my father’s shaving mirror, and just… hate myself.

14 - Dialogue options:

Special: Would you change with magic? [15]

Special: What did your family think? [16]

[Back to 1]

15 - Special: Would you change with magic? PC: If you had the chance to use magic, would you change all the way? Krem: What? No. I don’t want any magic like that within ten yards of my body. When I was younger… I don’t know. Everyone has silly dreams. In Tevinter, dreams like that get you killed. Bull helped me make a good life. Nice armor and a well-placed sock, and I’m happy. [back to 14] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 16 - Special: What did your family think? PC: How did your family react when you started? Krem: My mother wanted to throw me out. She said if I didn’t marry well, I was dooming the family to slavery. She was happy to take the money I sent as a soldier, though. Not that it mattered in the end. My father… when I was little, he’d angle his mirror down so I could pretend to shave, just like him. He never said anything, but I think he knew. [back to 14]

5 - General: Goodbye. PC: We’ll talk later.

[southeastasianists]

Nearly seven years after the Myanmar military killed thousands of Muslim Rohingyas, in what the UN called "textbook ethnic cleansing", it wants their help.

From interviews with Rohingyas living in Rakhine State the BBC has learned of at least 100 of them being conscripted in recent weeks to fight for the embattled junta. All their names have been changed to protect them.

"I was frightened, but I had to go," says Mohammed, a 31-year-old Rohingya man with three young children. He lives near the capital of Rakhine, Sittwe, in the Baw Du Pha camp. At least 150,000 internally displaced Rohingyas have been forced to live in IDP camps for the past decade.

In the middle of February the camp leader came to him late at night, Mohammed said, and told him he would have to do military training. "These are army orders," he remembers him saying. "If you refuse they have threatened to harm your family."

The BBC has spoken to several Rohingyas who have confirmed that army officers have been going around the camps and ordering the younger men to report for military training.

The terrible irony for men like Mohammed is that Rohingyas in Myanmar are still denied citizenship, and subjected to a range of discriminatory restrictions - like a ban on travel outside their communities.

In 2012 tens of thousands of Rohingyas were driven out of mixed communities in Rakhine State, and forced to live in squalid camps. Five years later, in August 2017, 700,000 fled to neighbouring Bangladesh, after the army launched a brutal clearance operation against them, killing and raping thousands and burning their villages. Some 600,000 of them still remain there.

Myanmar is now facing a genocide trial at the International Court of Justice in the Hague over its treatment of the Rohingyas.

That the same army is now forcibly recruiting them is a telling sign of its desperation, after losing huge swathes of territory in Rakhine recently to an ethnic insurgent group called the Arakan Army. Dozens of Rohingyas in Rakhine have been killed by military artillery and aerial bombardments.

The military has also suffered significant losses to opposition forces in other parts of the country - on Saturday it lost control of Myawaddy, a town on the eastern border with Thailand. Most of the country's overland trade passes through this vital route.

The junta has lost large numbers of soldiers as well. They have been killed, wounded, surrendered or defected to the opposition, and finding replacements is difficult. Few want to risk their lives propping up an unpopular regime.

And the Rohingyas fear that is the reason they are being targeted again - to be cannon fodder in a war the junta seems to be losing.

Mohammed said he was driven to the base of the 270th Light Infantry Battalion in Sittwe. Rohingyas have been prohibited from living in the town since they were driven out during the 2012 communal violence.

"We were taught how to load bullets and shoot," he said. "They also showed us how to disassemble and reassemble a gun."

In a video seen by the BBC another group of Rohingya conscripts can be seen being taught how to use BA 63 rifles, an older standard weapon used by the Myanmar armed forces.

Mohammed was trained for two weeks, then sent home. But after just two days he was called back, and put on a boat with 250 other soldiers and transported five hours up-river to Rathedaung, where a fierce battle with the Arakan Army was under way for control of three hilltop military bases.

"I had no idea why I was fighting. When they told me to shoot at a Rakhine village, I would shoot."

He fought there for 11 days. They were desperately short of food, after a shell fell on their supply hut. He saw several Rohingya conscripts killed by artillery and he was injured by shrapnel in both legs, and taken back to Sittwe for treatment.

On 20 March the Arakan Army released photos from the battle, after it had taken control of the three bases, showing several corpses, at least three of them identified as Rohingyas.

"While I was in the middle of the battle I was terrified the whole time. I kept thinking about my family," Mohammed said. "I never thought I would have to go to war like that. I just wanted to go home. When I got home from the hospital I hugged my mother and cried. It felt like being born again from my mother's womb."

Another conscript was Hussain, from Ohn Taw Gyi camp, which is also near Sittwe. His brother Mahmoud says he was taken away in February and completed his military training, but he went into hiding before they could send him to the front line.

The military denies using Rohingyas to fight its battles with the Arakan Army. General Zaw Min Tun, the junta spokesman, told the BBC that there was no plan to send them to the front line. "We want to ensure their safety, so we have asked them to help with their own defence," he said.

But in interviews with the BBC, seven Rohingyas in five different IDP camps near Sittwe all said the same thing: that they know of at least 100 Rohingyas who have been recruited this year and sent off to fight.

They said teams of soldiers and local government officials came to the camps in February to announce that the younger men would be conscripted, at first telling people they would get food, wages and citizenship if they joined up. These were powerful lures.

Food in the IDP camps has become scarce and expensive as the escalating conflict with the Arakan Army has cut off the international aid supplies. And the denial of citizenship is at the heart of the Rohingyas' long struggle for acceptance in Myanmar, and one reason they suffer systematic discrimination, described by human rights groups as similar to apartheid.

However, when the soldiers returned to take the conscripted men away, they retracted the offer of citizenship. When asked by the camp residents why they, as non-citizens, should be subjected to conscription, they were told that they had a duty to defend the place where they lived. They would be militiamen, not soldiers, they were told. When they asked about the offer of citizenship, the answer was "you misunderstood".

Now, according to one camp committee member, the army is demanding new lists of potential recruits. After seeing and hearing from the first group to come back from the front line, he said, no-one else was willing to risk being conscripted.

So the camp leaders are now trying to persuade the poorest men, and those with no jobs, to go, by offering to support their families while they are away, with donations raised from other camp residents.

"This conscription campaign is unlawful and more akin to forced labour," said Matthew Smith, from the human rights group Fortify Rights.

"There's a brutal and perverse utility to what's happening. The military is conscripting the victims of the Rohingya genocide in an attempt to fend off a nationwide democratic revolution. This regime has no regard for human life. It's now layering these abuses on top of its long history of atrocities and impunity."

By using Rohingyas in its battles against the advancing Arakan Army, the Myanmar military threatens to reignite communal conflict with the ethnic Rakhine Buddhist population, much of which supports the insurgents.

It was friction between the two communities which in 2012 caused the expulsion of tens of thousands of Rohingyas from towns like Sittwe. In 2017, ethnic Rakhine men joined in the army's attacks on the Rohingyas.

Tension between the two communities has eased since then.

The Arakan Army is fighting for an autonomous state, part of a wider campaign with other ethnic armies and opposition groups to overthrow the military junta and create a new, federal system in Myanmar.

Now on the brink of victory in Rakhine State, the Arakan Army has talked about giving citizenship to all who have lived there recently, implying that it might accept the return of the Rohingya population from Bangladesh.

The mood has now changed. A spokesman for the Arakan Army, Khaing Thukha, told the BBC that they viewed Rohingyas being conscripted to fight for the junta as "the worst betrayal of those who had recently been victims of genocide, and of those fighting for liberation from dictatorship".

Pro-military media have also been giving publicity to what appear to have been Rohingya protests in Buthidaung against the Arakan Army, although local people told the BBC they suspected these were organised by the army in an attempt to divide the two groups.

The Rohingyas are now forced to fight for an army that does not recognise their right to live in Myanmar, thereby alienating the ethnic insurgents who may soon control most of Rakhine. Once targeted by both, they are now caught between the two sides.

Mohammed has been given a certificate by the army, stating that he has fought in battle on their side. He has no idea what value it has, nor whether it exempts him from further military service. It could well get him into trouble with the Arakan Army if it continues its advance towards Sittwe and his camp.

He is still recovering from his injuries, and says he is unable to sleep at night after his experience.

"I'm afraid they will call me again. This time I came back because I was lucky, but next time I am not sure what will happen."

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - drinking,, sexual references

y/nn = your nickname if your confused🩷

Chapter 8

After Christmas we did something exciting every night, usually beginning after midnight. Sometimes Matt rented either the Memphian or the Malco theater to watch movies. Other times he rented the entire Rainbow Skating Rink, the infamous roller rink I’d heard so much about.

My first night there I was lacing up my skates when the boys asked me, “Do you know how to skate?”

“Sure,” I said.

“But do you know how to skate?” they persisted.

I got the message real fast when a box of knee pads was passed around. This was not your ordinary around the rink to organ music skating. The idea here was to keep your bones intact.

I wobbled onto the rink only to wobble off. I wasn’t about to stay on that floor after seeing the determined looks on the other skaters’ faces. They made the Roller Derby look mild. From the sideline, I watched them rounding the rink, adjusting their jackets and shirts so they weren’t too tight and checking that their arms and legs were securely padded.

Then Matt skated into their midst, calling out, “Okay, everybody. Y’all clear the way on the sidelines. I don’t want anybody hurt over there. Honey, why don’t you get on the other side there with Louise [Gene Smith’s wife]. The rest of you, get your asses somewhere else.” They all started laughing, and he said, “Okay, let’s go!”

About twenty-five skaters locked hands, forming what they called a whip. Skating abreast, they began circling the rink, building up speed. The objective of the game was to remain unscathed at speeds of over ten miles per hour. It could be very dangerous if you were to lose your balance or if you were at the tail end, when, by turning quickly, they all “cracked the whip.”

There were a lot of falls, but despite the danger, Matt seemed to know exactly what he was doing. I noticed that whenever someone was hurt, he was the first to see if they were all right and to decide if they should continue to play.

I still don’t know how anybody kept from getting seriously injured, yet no one complained and most of them were even willing to do it again the next night. It was rough, but as Matt put it, “If you’re man enough to get out there, then you better be man enough to take the licks.”

New Year’s Eve was approaching. Matt told Alan to rent the Manhattan Club for the evening and to invite about two hundred people, Matt’s friends and the presidents and other members of his fan clubs.

Although I was excited about the party, I couldn’t help thinking that after New Year’s Eve I would have to leave. Matt kept telling me not to think about it. I noticed that whenever I mentioned a problem to him he’d just say, “It’ll all work out, don’t worry about it. I’ve got enough to think about without having to worry about that.”

He always avoided problems. If I was disturbed or depressed, or if I felt we were becoming distant and wanted to get closer by talking it out, he avoided me or told me my timing was bad. There was never a good time.

Once I reproached him about the attention he was lavishing on the girlfriend of one of the regulars. She was very attractive, about my height, with black hair and a nice figure. She had come into the kitchen, where several of us were sitting, and Matt, who was wearing dark sunglasses, began making comments like, “Boy, it’s getting warm in here. Anybody else warm?”

I was so upset I left the room. I waited for him to go upstairs, then followed shortly behind him. “Matt, I have to talk to you,” I said.

“Sure, Honey, what is it?”

“I saw the way you were eyeing that girl. It upset me.”

“Look, woman,” he said, losing his temper. “No one tells me who I can look at and who I can’t. Besides, your imagination’s getting carried away. I’ve seen her ass around here long before today.”

With that I stomped out, slamming the bedroom door. I felt betrayed that he’d even desire another woman and was annoyed that he’d never admit it. I became obsessed and watched what Matt liked, what attracted him, trying to be everything he ever imagined a woman could be, and more.

The New Year’s Eve party at the Manhattan Club started around 10 p.m., but Matt timed our arrival a few minutes before midnight. We just had time to order double screwdrivers when the countdown began. Then we all sang “Auld Lang Syne.”

As people shouted “Happy New Year!” Matt pulled me close and said, “Baby, I don’t want you to go back. You’re staying here. We’ll call your parents in the morning.”

I was in such a state of ecstasy that I didn’t notice what I was drinking: four double screwdrivers, all drunk through a straw. After one double, I was feeling high; after four, I was reeling. I went into the ladies’ room with Louise and stayed there for what seemed like hours, swaying back and forth in the stall, trying to get myself together.

When we finally returned to the table, I tried to act as if everything was okay, but Matt took one look at me and said, “Baby, we better get you home. You’re in no condition to be here.” He asked his old friend George Klein, the Memphis disc jockey, if he would take me home.

I spent most of the ride back to Graceland with my head out the window. George and his date walked me to the door, where we said good night, and I let myself in.

Gripping the banister, I slowly climbed the white stairs, shedding my clothing as I went: my jacket, purse, shoes, and blouse left in a long trail up the steps. By the time I reached the bedroom I was wearing only my bra and panties. I collapsed on the bed and passed out.

A few hours later I heard Matt tiptoe into the room and come over to me. His condition was not much better than mine. I could make out his silhouette against the ceiling above me. I didn’t stir. Gently, he took off the rest of my clothes. Then he kissed me and kissed me over and over. This night we almost went too far. His vow was nearly broken. My passion had gotten to him and under the influence of alcohol, he weakened. Then, before I knew what happened, he withdrew saying, “No. Not like this.” It had to be special, just as he’d always planned.

I have to admit that, at that moment i didn’t care if it was special and I didn’t care what he’d vowed. I didn’t care, in fact, what he wanted at all. I only knew I wanted him.

The next morning my head throbbed with a terrible hangover. I felt ashamed and embarrassed—and yet not at all sorry about what we’d done. He was a little closer to being all mine.

The moment of truth came when we called my father in Germany. Matt was on the extension in his office and I was on another phone somewhere else in the house. Though the connection to Wiesbaden was filled with static, there was no mistaking my father’s words.

“Young lady, I will not go through this conversation again. We made an agreement. You were to leave there on the second of January. You’ve got one day left and you’d better be on that flight!”

Matt interjected, “Captain, sir, if she could just stay a couple more days. I have to be back in L.A. soon, and it would be nice—”

“Matt, I can’t do that. She has to be back in school and that was the deal. I’m sorry. y/n y/ln, are you there?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“We’ll be at the airport. You know the time; we’ll see you then.”

I was furious. I flew into Matt’s office where, sitting behind his desk, he was just hanging up.

“I hate them. I hate them both,” I yelled like a spoiled child. “Why are they stopping us? They just want me home to babysit, to take care of the kids, that’s all.”

Matt’s face was flushed with anger. “We made a goddamn agreement—who the hell does he think he is, talking like that on the goddamn phone—him and his military upbringing.”

He grabbed the phone and called down to the kitchen, demanding, “Where’s my dad! He down there? Tell him to come upstairs to the office.”

Within seconds James was at the door. “What is it, Son?”

“Goddamn Captain y/ln,” he shouted. “We just called to see if y/nn could stay a few more days and he comes off with this cocky attitude and refuses with his jargon about making agreements.”

“Now calm down, Son. It ain’t that bad. He was probably just concerned about her being home in time for school.”

“School, what the hell do I care about school?” Matt snapped, ignoring James’s efforts to soothe him. “Put her into school here, that’ll solve everything. She doesn’t need school. Hell, they don’t teach you anything nowadays anyway.”

“Well, Son, she’s gonna have to go back, there ain’t no two ways about it, give or take a day or two.”

“Goddamn, Dad, you’re not helpin’ matters any,” Matt said, but he was beginning to calm down. He sat back in his big desk chair and swiveled it around to face the window, then gazed out toward the pastures. Finally he turned around and announced that he had a plan.

Matt’s strategy called for me to return to Germany and to arrive in good spirits, then to concentrate on doing well in school so that my parents wouldn’t be able to use my poor grades as an excuse for not letting me return. Matt wanted me to finish high school in Boston and to that end he would make arrangements for me to return as soon as possible.

Germany

Although Matt said that I should greet my parents with a friendly smile, from the moment I got off the plane, my attitude was one of defiance. I now believed that my parents were a threat to my future happiness. I didn’t realize that their fears and concerns were entirely reasonable. All that mattered to me was what Matt and I wanted, and no one was going to stand in our way.

The weather was cold and dreary, which certainly didn’t help my mood. I walked through customs to find my parents waiting. Noting my attitude, their expressions were cool, their welcome stiff. No loving arms wrapped around me, no loving words greeted me. Only my father’s abrupt order, “Let’s go.”

The drive back to Wiesbaden seemed longer than forty-five minutes. I sat in the backseat in icy silence. No one mentioned my request to stay at Graceland.

“All in all, did you have a nice time?” Dad ventured.

“Yes,” I replied, looking out the window at the clusters of trees bare from the harsh winter.

“Did Matt like your present?” Mother asked hopefully.

“Yes,” I assured her. “He loved it.”

“Was it as cold in Boston as it gets here?” Dad asked, keeping the conversation light, trying to make me open up and talk.

“No, it’s colder here,” I replied sharply, referring to both the weather and my attitude. Our eyes met in the rearview mirror and surprisingly, Dad looked away rather than reacting to my cutting remark.

I knew I was pushing my luck with them, but I couldn’t suppress my feelings and pretend that everything was all right. I was so deeply in love that chitchat seemed pointless—as did everything except for Matt. I remembered how he had held me before we said goodbye, with such emotion and need that nothing could keep me away from him. How could I explain these adult feelings to my parents who, I thought, could never understand and would think me silly or just infatuated?

When we arrived home Dad said, “Well, you’ve got school tomorrow, so try to get as much rest as you can tonight.”

Mom added, “You should have dinner and get right to bed.”

Did they both honestly think that I could slip back into the routine of ordinary life?

I rebelled against going to school. I skipped classes, went to town, and downed a few beers with whoever I could get to join me. My attitude worsened along with my grades.

My parents were as confused as any caring parents would be, hoping the problem would eventually go away. But I didn’t make it easy for them. What had started out as a simple introduction to the world’s greatest rock-and-roll star had turned into a nightmare for them.

Matt began calling me almost immediately, and we’d talk for hours. My parents heard me whispering and giggling till three in the morning and wondered what on earth we could be talking about for so long. Nothing really—yet it seemed like everything.

I began to reveal to my mother that Matt and I loved each other and longed to be together. Finally one day I summoned the courage to tell her that Matt wanted me to finish school in Boston. Her response: an unqualified no. She felt it could wait until my father’s tour of duty was over. That would be the end of summer, she said, and there was no need for me to return to Matt sooner.

“But Mother,” I pleaded, “you don’t understand. He wants me there with him.”

“Why you?” she asked, her voice thick with emotion. “Why can’t he find someone his own age? You’re only sixteen. What is this man doing to our family?”

She buried her face in her hands and began crying.

I did feel sorry for her. We were always close, she was always there for me, but this time she just didn’t understand. I hated seeing her in pain, but nothing seemed more important to me than Matt. Not even my mother.

“He’s not anything like you imagine,” I said, “and he needs me, Mother. I won’t get hurt. Please talk to Dad.”

Slowly she raised her head and looked at me.

“y/nn, I’d never forgive myself if I let you go and if you came back to us with a broken heart. You’re so young! You have no idea what lies ahead of you. All you know is you’re in love. Do you know how difficult that is to fight?” She sighed. “I wouldn’t wish this on any parent.”

She brushed away her tears and after a moment said, “All right, I’ll talk to your father, but not just yet. It’s still too soon.”

I gave her a big hug and whispered, “Thank you, Mother. I know you can do it. I love you.”

Now I had to wait for my mother to intercede. I knew how much my father was against the idea. My parents still didn’t really know Matt’s intentions toward me. They only knew what I had told them. But they had also read in the newspapers that Matt was dating every one of the female costars in his movies, so naturally they were suspicious.

One day on the phone I told Matt, “If you want me to come back and go to school, you’re going to have to talk to my father yourself.”

“Put him on,” Matt replied. “I’m not MacArthur, but I can sure as hell try.”

Drawing on all of his charm, Matt assured my father that if I was permitted to move to Boston, I wouldn’t live with him at Graceland but with his dad, James, and his wife, Angela. Matt promised to enroll me in a good Catholic school—he’d choose it himself—and make sure I graduated. He said I’d always be chaperoned and that he’d care for me in every way. Declaring his intentions honorable, he swore that he loved and needed and respected me. In fact, he couldn’t live without me, he said, intimating that one day we’d marry.

This left my parents in a dilemma. If Matt were as sincere as he sounded, there was a chance that our relationship might work out. But if it didn’t work out, they ran the risk of my returning to them disillusioned and brokenhearted. If they refused to let me go, I might never forgive them and I would bitterly regret this unfulfilled love for the rest of my life. In that light, there was little they could do but say yes, and eventually they did.

In truth, I was as mystified as my parents were about why Matt wanted me to come live with him. I think he was attracted by the fact that I had a normal, stable childhood, and that I was very responsible, having helped my parents raise my younger brothers and sister. I was more mature at sixteen than I was at fourteen, when he’d met me, not only because I’d gone through the normal growing period, but also because I’d experienced the pain of living without him for those two years.

Most of all, he knew he could depend on me. I wasn’t interested in a career, in Hollywood, or in anything else that would draw my attention away from him. I also had all of the physical attributes that Matt liked, the fundamentals he could use in turning me into his ideal woman. In short, I had everything that Matt had been looking for in a woman: youth and innocence, total devotion, and no problems of my own. And I was hard to get.

I intended to do whatever I had to to hold him, because if he had ever sent me home, it would have meant not only that I’d been wrong in going to him, but that my parents had been wrong for having permitted it. I firmly resolved to make our relationship work, no matter what.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd.

This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - do you guys like longer chapters like this?🎀

[especiallythewomenandthechildren]

As If Destiny (part ten) 🌹

Part 9.5🌹

a/n: the fact that i can keep finding gifs of this fine fine man.

love to you and even more love to you.

warnings: it's the hunger games universe. you know what you are getting into.

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3:02 A.M

3:03 A.M

3:04 A.M

Coriolanus Snow was immobile as he watched the time pass on the cracked clock along the wall. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight so he didn't even attempt it. Even as he closed his eyes due to the pounding migraine in his head, all he saw was you.

Your falling form, shaky hands, empty eyes. Silent mouth.

Not a single scream was heard from you when you got hit.

That was probably what haunted Snow the most. Your tragedy was silent. Life was slipping out of your being with no noise.

He sighed as he rubbed his eyes in frustration. He has been in the constant loop of falling into a rabbit hole of you, fighting to get out, then falling straight back in. This torture cycle has been going on for hours and wouldn't cease until he finally got to see you again.

When Coryo made it home, he fell straight into Tigris's arms. There was no need for him to explain what occurred as news spread like wildfire across the Capital. He always hated the speed of gossip across the city but was thankful for this one instance only because Tigris already knew what to do. She comforted her younger cousin and didn't pester him with questions but made sure he wasn't too lost in his head.

That's how they spent their entire evening until it hit midnight. The older Snow cousin could barely keep her eyes awake but swore she would stay by Coryo's side. Although, with enough reassurance that he would be fine and exhaustion overcoming her body, she finally relented to her small room.

While Coriolanus was glad Tigris was getting some well-earned sleep, he most definitely lied.

He was not fine.

3:11 A.M

He looked down at his desk where his own ideas for the Games lay. He had written them, revised, wrote some more, and revised even more. It was the only thing that got his mind off of your massacred form. If he edited anymore, he was sure to ruin the proposals.

The adolescent's blue eyes moved from the pages to stare out the window you loved so much. Those blossoming trees didn't sway as they usually did. Even they seemed disappointed at your disappearance.

While the flowering trees did remind him yet again of you, they also sprung an idea. It definitely wasn't the most intelligent idea and especially not the safest, but any reservations had to settle down as the Capital Zoo gates came into view. Why he was here? Even Coryo couldn't answer that but he figured it would be as good of a distraction as any.

The sweat piling on his palms seemed to be the only sign of reason within his being as he inched closer and closer. Not even twenty-four hours ago, a murder was attempted. On someone just like him. And someone got hurt. You got hurt.

He sighed as he was now only mere feet away from the gates. Coryo wondered if you would be upset at him being here. Would you think he is foolish or would you have faith in Lucy Gray?

There wasn't much lighting around the zoo but it wasn't necessary; Coriolanus could feel the eyes on him. The mentor could only pray that they were the brown eyes of the girl he was looking for.

"Lucy Gray?"

The hushed tone was hard to pick up on except if one was within a few meters of it. Whether the girl in question should be grateful she heard was still to be seen. Gently sliding Jessup's head off her shoulder, Lucy Gray creeped closer to the bars. Coriolanus waited a few moments before he opened his mouth to call out again. Though before any words were said, he was cut-off by a greeting from the singer herself.

"Coriolanus?"

He let out a breath when the girl presented herself, her appearance slightly shining under the dingy lighting. He brushed his hands through his now deflated curls. Lucy Gray waited patiently for him to form the words. Words he was unfamiliar with as he just spewed what was on his mind.

"I'm so sorry, I just- I couldn't sleep and thought you might be awake."

As soon as the words left his mouth, the blonde wished he could take them back. The reality of the situation hit him full force. Here he is interrupting what may be the last peaceful moments of this girl's life because he couldn't control his train of thought. He buried his face in his hands and stayed there until a small giggle was heard. He peered up to meet the soft smile of Lucy Gray.

"I thought mentors were supposed to take of us."

If it wasn't for her kind tone and sweet smile, Coriolanus would have been offended. He didn't know why he came to her, but a part of him trusted her. Or at least trusted she didn't have many people to tell.

His blue orbs watched her face deflate into one of worry as she walked closer.

"Is she okay?"

It was a quiet whisper burdened with concern. His trust was reaffirmed in Lucy Gray as he heard her concern for you. He nodded slowly while he opened his mouth to speak in a grave tone.

"She survived and will be released in a few hours. However, the cuts are aggressive "

Lucy Gray hung off of every word, genuinely concerned for your well-being. You were nothing but kind to her and Jessup. Not to mention you did try to help Brandy. The rest of the evening Lucy Gray kept on thinking about you and your actions.

Your kindness on the station, intimidating aura in the van, and quiet talk with Jessup in the zoo. The talk he didn't go much into detail about, still unsure of what to make of it. Lucy Gray didn't wish harm on anyone who has never personally harmed her and even though the redhead who mocked her own tribute was clearly cruel, she didn't believe she deserved death. When it all happened, the singer was shocked into stillness as she saw the murder attempt and was forced into movement when she saw your neck covered in blood.

After the incident and Brandy's corpse being carried out, the zoo was nearly empty of all visitors. The tributes mostly kept to themselves or their fellow district pair. Lucy Gray often thought of her family, the Covey, especially Maude Ivory. But it wasn't long before she once again thought over why you took the hit instead of the snarling girl.

The mentor didn't seem very happy with you and was insulting not only you, but someone clearly important to you. Lucy Gray has been around enough nasty folks to know that they always choose words carefully. Lucy Gray knew very little about you but even she could tell that whoever Otto was, he shouldn't have been mentioned.

The girl sighed herself as looked at the exhausted boy in front of her. The affection between you two was quite clear and it made her a bit more accepting of the Capital citizenship. If one can love another, they must have some sort of humanity.

"I can see why you love her."

Coriolanus Snow choked on his saliva upon hearing the words. His eyes were bright with fear and shock. The boy never even admitted that to himself and well he knew his feelings were strong, the word "love" was never used. Lucy Gray began internally panicking at seeing the boy's silence.

"You do love her right?"

Coryo's eyes scrunched slightly as he analyzed the soft tone used. Analyzed her question. In all his analysis, no answer provided itself.

"Is this what love feels like?"

He was eerily quiet; words spoken at a volume, it sounded like it would break. The question of her mentor made her relax and give a little laugh.

"Oh, you poor suffering soul!"

She teased lightly. Twelve hours ago, this situation wouldn't even be in either teenagers' wildest imagination. Yet here they stood, one lost in love-struck daze and the other in a satisfied companionship. Lucy Gray was behind bars, counting down the hours she had left in her life, but she wasn't too focused on that fact for the moment. The poster boy of the prestigious Capital stood completely vulnerable in front of her in the dead hours of the night.

These might be her last days of her young life, but Lucy Gray feels an odd sense of gratitude. She hates that she, along with the rest of the innocent tributes, are forced to massacre one another. Her blood boils at the thought that the Games are allowed and even encouraged. But she is grateful for Coriolanus.

Lucy Gray is still unsure why he came to her, but the action made her heart swell. Coriolanus didn't just see her as a tribute, or worse, just a pawn in the game to win the prize. She knew that was part of his motivations in his care for her, but in this quiet moment with no cameras, Coriolanus Snow sees her as a friend. A confidant in the silence of the city of whispers.

Her smile slightly deflated as she thought of her own run with love.

"You know, whatever happens in that arena, thank you. If for nothing more than showing me at least one man knows how to love in this world."

Coryo's stupor evaporated as the Reaping replayed in his head. Oh.

"That boy? He-"

"Didn't know how to love the girl who loved him. Got too greedy."

Lucy Gray's snarl was apparent as she thought over the boy and his affair who sent her here. Her heart was already broken, why did she also have it to be physically stabbed?

Coryo could start feeling his own anger building at the thought of Lucy Gray being hurt. She was incredibly sweet, even surrounded by her future killers. He didn't understand it, but it creates a feeling of protectiveness to surge through the curly head. At the human-to-human level, not mentor and tribute.

He wondered if he would be used to this protectiveness if his sister survived. His mother would love Lucy Gray, if nothing more than her charismatic personality.

"The girl who you sent the snake on?"

"Daughter of the mayor and the reason we are talking."

She sighed at the recollection that of all the people for Billy to break her heart with, it just had to be Mayfair.

The anger that was beginning to build up was now 100% ready to burst.

"What? She can't do that! The Reaping isn't for personal vendettas i-"

The words died on his tongue as the realization hit him aggressively.

Coriolanus was complaining about rules of sending innocent children into a blood bath. The hypocrisy of the Reaping being used for personal pleasure at others' pain is exactly what it was made for. The entirety of the Hunger Games was a sick lesson of victory in others' misery.

Lucy Gray watched the cogs turn in the blonde-haired head of the teenager across from her and was relieved to see the revelation of reality.

Her motivation for survival in the arena was already high so she can make it back to see the Covey again and watch out for Jessup. But another reason was added in those morning hours. Survive so she can take care of Coriolanus as he did for her. To ensure at least one love story ends happy.

The brunette tried to convince Coryo to go back home so many times throughout the hours he spent in front of the bars with her, but he refused. Even though he was mere feet from where he saw you collapse, his mind wasn't plagued by your unconscious eyes.

Instead, his lips kept on repeating the lively moments he shared with you to the curious Lucy Gray. He appreciated he got to brag about every little thing about you to someone who didn't have some other motive. Even with Tigris, she already knew every detail about you from the aforementioned bragging by her cousin, but she would still listen just to give him some comfort and a shoulder to lean on.

But Lucy Gray forced him to step out of his brooding and focus on that you were okay and made him more comfortable in the revelation of his love. Lucy Gray was thankful she didn't have to spend these days in the humiliating zoo as just an attraction or threat. Coriolanus made her still feel human and a friend. She knew how desperately he wanted to win and yet, not a word of strategy was mentioned. They had the meeting later in the day to discuss. Right now, they both just needed a friend.

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After nearly running back to his decaying home upon seeing the sunlight appear, he changed in a flash. He got too lost into his youthful conversation with Lucy Gray that he nearly forgot of his responsibilities. One being not frightening Tigris at being gone for hours in the middle of the night.

Thankfully for him, Coryo made it through his bedroom door just as Tigris opened hers to get ready for the day. He got ready speedily and grabbed his proposals and neatly packed them away into his bag. Ensuring he had everything he needed, Coriolanus gave a quick kiss on the head to Tigris and sped towards the Capital hospital.

His stomach was grumbling heavily, and he could have benefited from grabbing a few leftover pieces from the breakfasts you always brought. Though he had to decide between sustenance and you.

Not a seconds hesitation.

Coriolanus walked through the pristine doors of the newly built hospital. The hospital was a part of the new reconstruction project for the Capital after the war. Life was finally getting back to normal.

With the infamous charming smile of his towards the receptionist, Coriolanus made his way through the sterile hallway. Upon reaching and subsequently opening the creaking door, Coryo was biting back a boyish laugh.

On the bed lay you, with your head was tilted on top of Arachne's as the forementioned girl curled into your side. Your eyes were awake but quite droopy as you attempted to fight off sleep. A fight you won swiftly as soon as you heard the voice you've been yearning to hear.

"Am I being replaced? Of all people Arachne? Didn't know you were into redheads, y/n."

His smirk was evident and more so as he walked over to your bedside. You turned your head to the left as you looked up to the tall boy with a soft smile playing on your lips.

"Can't be replaced if you were never in her place to begin with."

He mocked offense as Coryo retorted to your still sleepy voice.

"Are you upset that I gave you my bed instead of squishing us? I barely fit on my own, imagine the both of us!"

You already have imagined it actually. Multiple times.

Nothing graphic just a bit of snuggling and giving the smug blonde a good kick in the middle of the night while in deep dreams, of course.

"I just don't want you to be sleeping on the floor. It's cold, Coryo, and has to be awful for your back!"

Coryo knew you were right as the floor was extremely uncomfortable, but the feeling that you were mere arms width away gave him a level of comfort no mattress could provide. He only wished that you were in his arms rather than the distance of them.

"Such is the tragedy of being a gentleman."

He gave you a toothy grin as you laughed lightly, widening Coriolanus's smile even more. The young man got settled at the foot of your bed as he nodded questioningly towards the still sleeping Arachne.

You let out an amused laugh as your fingers began streaming through the now down red hair of the girl in question.

"Said she didn't want to leave me. I don't know why, but I'm not complaining. I've missed her and our friendship."

Coriolanus nodded along and gave no hint of what he was feeling inside. A feeling with the name of suspicion. He wasn't blind to her stares at you. They were icy and envious, or at least they pretended to be. One can't hide the longing for another, no matter how deep it's buried.

The blue stare of Coriolanus Snow moved across the room and landed upon the now crinkled parchment. He nodded in amazement with a proud smile.

"Gaul knows young promise, now doesn't she?"

You stretched forward just enough to smack his leg reprimandingly.

"Don't go getting a big head on me now, Coryo."

"Any bigger and we would have to calculate the surface area."

It seemed just a bit of rest was all that was needed for the notorious Arachne Crane snark to return. She quickly sat up, removed your hands gently, and patted herself up to perfection. As soon as she became presentable enough for public, a kind-looking nurse with honey eyes and light freckles entered.

Arachne froze for a second, fearing she was found out, though you had no fears. Due to her bright and rested attitude, the honey-eyed nurse was clearly working the day shift instead of the scoping night shifts. It only took a few moments and tests to reassure your release. You signed multiple papers that you didn't bother reading, and you were given the clear along with your still-stained academy uniform.

You fully intended on completing your mentor duties today and the following days but completely forgot about the state of your uniform. A quick scan to the clock showed that you didn't have time to go back to your apartment and get a clean spare. An apartment that you weren't even sure was yours anymore. It was most definitely not home.

However, your panicked thoughts must have been heard by your saving angel. An angel that came in the form of the familiar warm brown eyes and curly hair.

In his hands were a spare uniform for you (how he got it, you weren't going to waste the energy on questioning it) and a container filled with sweet treats sent from his ma clearly.

"Sejanus have I ever said how much I loved you?!"

He gave you a warm smile as he passed the clothes off and opened up the beautifully designed container. You quickly grabbed a few of your favorite sweet treats while the rest were offered to Coriolanus and a bit reluctantly, Arachne. The latter squinting at the treats in disgust. The food smelled delicious and looked even more delectable, but district hands still made them.

Though your clear enjoyment of the delicacies as well as the boys', who began quietly talking, Ara grabbed a small treat that has a red tint to it. The taste popped in her mouth and continued to as she fully enjoyed some of the best treats she has ever tried.

You laughed at her reaction and the flustered blush that appeared on the girl's cheeks caused a squint of distrust to frame Coriolanus's eyes and Sejanus's mouth to go agape.

"Since when did she sink her claws into y/n?"

Sejanus was concerned how you could so easily be friendly with the girl who was more than willing to let you die. At least in his eyes.

Coriolanus left the question out into the air as he focused on helping you out of bed, legs a bit shaky. He grabbed the rouge uniform and led you to the connected bathroom. A little interrogation was initiated as he tried to ensure your safety.

While you two were bickering back and forth about your ability to change on your own, an awkward silence firmly took place between Arachne and Sejanus. The brown-eyed boy unabashedly stared holes into the redheads face while she focused on your hospital gown-clad figure.

"Spread my thanks to your mother. She is a wonder with pastries."

Arachne's words were meek as she struggled to pull them out. Twenty-four hours ago, she would never have thought of complimenting district scum- no. Not district scum. District. Maybe scu- you wouldn't approve of that language. Arachne just got you back, she isn't going to lose you again.

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A half-hour passes, and by then, you are fully dressed and walking up the stairs of the academy with Sejanus. Arachne had to rush back home to get her supplies and clean up while Coryo went to drop off both of your proposals to Dr. Gaul. Technically, proposals by three academy students, though you doubted Clemensia put a wink of effort. Especially in her state yesterday.

On a good day, she would be more than happy to let Coriolanus do all the work and take the credit. But in tears and wreck, she needed to leech to survive.

As you walked through the pristine institute, you heard the whispers and felt the hot gazes upon you. The patched-up wounds on your neck felt extra visible and painful as you weaved through the gawking crowds. They eventually settled as the guard dog of yours named Sejanus, gave them a stare to scare the teenagers into silence.

The pair of you moved into Heavensbee Hall, where multiple tables and chairs had been organized into a circular formation. On your way to the academy, Sejanus filled you in on today's events. An hour meeting with the tributes, a fifteen-minute tour of the arena following, and in the evening a presentation paired with an interview of each of the district tributes.

As soon as you stepped into the grand hall, you were enveloped by a pair of arms connected to a certain bead of raven hair.

"Clemmie!! I'm okay, don't worry!"

You were met with no verbal response but rather a rather harsh squeeze by the surprisingly strong girl.

"Okay, I'm not okay because you are actually crushing my body!!"

As you could finally breathe through your lungs, you quietly conversed with your worried friend. It was only after a few moments after that the tributes were brought in as if cattle; each in heavy chains that connected to their peers in front of them in the single file line.

The look in Clemensia's eyes was screaming at you to leave and protect yourself, but all it was met with was a tight-lipped smile. You were making your way to the designated desk for you and Jessup when your path was intercepted.

"Miss Vaun."

Dean Highbottom was not someone you wanted to deal with this early in the morning, especially when the only words coming out of his mouth were subtly crafted mocks and the only thing going in was morphling.

"Such a shame to hear of your incident."

Each word he uttered made you nauseous. His calculated tone was dripping with hidden motives. Casca Highbottom was playing games with you though you had no idea what they were nor why. Though a speculation was that it had something to do with a certain curly-haired blonde who was now walking in your direction with a scowl towards your dean.

"Ah, Mr. Snow, I was beginning to fear you had yet another show to present. It seems the mentors are more the spectacle than the tributes."

The smile Coriolanus gave the bitter man was tight, just like his patience. Dean Highbottom, satisfied with the emotion caused, called for all mentors to join their tributes at their tables as he addressed the room.

"In spite of yesterday’s tragic events, our president has decided that the Games must go on to show everyone the Capitol is unafraid of such acts of terror."

Your cheeks burned as you ducked your head while feeling Jessup's eyes stare at you. Well, everyone's eyes.

"To which end, Dr. Gaul wishes you to preview the arena this afternoon with your tributes. Later this evening, there will be a special televised presentation and interview of each tribute to our audience to get to know them."

You sighed slightly as it was clear that Dr. Gaul liked at least some of your ideas if she implemented the interview and some sort of presentation.

"You will have an hour to discuss strategy. You may begin."

You lifted your head back up to meet the dark brown eyes of Jessup Diggs. You smiled shyly, unsure of where to start. Though there was no need for worry as Jessup was the one to initiate the conversation.

"Those are some nasty cuts."

You, in stark contrast to the solemn room, laughed softly. The boy's tone wasn't harsh or arrogant at seeing your hurt, but rather blunt. It was better than hearing a voice filled with glee at seeing your scars.

"Well now we match, huh?"

You sat back in your chair, getting comfortable. You had an hour ahead of you and the discussion of strategy wasn't going to take long if Jessup was still insistent on not taking medicine. The dark-skinned boy matched your position while you prepared your thoughts.

"You sticking to no medicine?"

His eyes drew over your neck again, seeing how much it has healed due to the remedies. But you didn't have to be locked into an arena filled with killers. He got the bite due to his character and actions, that's how he wanted to die. Not because of scared teenagers who just wanted to go home to their mama.

His silence was an answer enough for you; an answer that didn't surprise you. Jessup was stubborn, and you would bet there were few topics he would be willing to change his mind on. Though, you could never have bet that his mind was starting to change in regards to the children of the Capitol. That not everyone was horrible.

"I can't get you out of the interviews or presentation, but you can keep silent. There is not much they can do to force you. However, if you have something you want to say, feel free."

You knew that his silence would ensure he would have no sponsors, but that didn't matter in his case. The district boy looked a bit taken aback by your last statement and what he could do with it.

"Anything? Isn't that a little dangerous?"

The brunette knew it wasn't dangerous for him as he was already sentenced to death, but what about you? He wasn't sure why he cared, but he did. You seem to try to save anyone you can, an odd trait for a Capitol resident, but true nonetheless. You didn't deserve to get hurt because of his rash actions.

"I can't control your actions, Jessup. You are your own person. Even while this whole situation doesn't have anything to do with you, there is still control you have."

He mulled over your words, and even though it sounded farfetched, it was true. Even a smile appeared on his face as he agreed: he did have control.

You were happy to see that smile and know that he recognized his freedom in the cage. The two of you were content as you sat back and turned simultaneously towards the other District 12 tribute and mentor pair.

Coriolanus and Lucy Gray were not the normal pair. Lucy Gray wasn't sitting quietly or glaring. Coriolanus wasn't sneering or arrogant. Their conversation, a wonder in itself, was mutual. Your heart pulled at the scene, wishing that it could be in different circumstances.

Your head turned back to look at your own tribute, whose head was still turned towards his friend. His eyes were covered in reminiscence and pleas. Pleas that she will survive. That is when an idea came to fruition.

"What if we made a deal?"

Jessup slowly turned his head towards you in apprehension and confusion. What more could you possibly expect from him?

"You do everything you can to stay in control in that arena. Fight off the disease as much as you can because your sanity will disappear. I've seen it firsthand; any piece of Jessup Diggs will be gone. You will become a danger to Lucy Gray. Don't let her eat or drink after you. You could spread it."

Jessup took in what you were saying and agreed but was still confused about what the deal was. What was in this for you?

"Take care of yourself and her in the arena and I will do my best outside of the arena to make sure Lucy Gray goes home."

His brown eyes squinted at you in wonder and uncertainty. You were sincere in your words, but Lucy Gray winning meant more than just her success, and Jessup knew that.

"Why? So your boyfriend can win and spend all the money he doesn't need on your Capitol luxury?"

Your previously relaxed facial expression melted into one of simmering anger. You thrashed your body forward and toned your voice down into a chilled whisper.

"One, he isn't my boyfriend. Two, looks can be deceiving. He desperately needs the money. I know it's hard to believe, but his family is starving, and his grandmother and cousin need him. That's why he works day and night, so don't you dare say he doesn't need the money. You don't know him."

Your tone was laced with venom, and Jessup quickly took the hint. His eyes raked over the fair-skinned boy, and he could see you were right.

He was tall, yes, but skinny. Even kids in twelve weren't that malnourished. Jessup turned back to you with a little smirk, which brought you a sense of unease.

"Very defensive of your 'not boyfriend'."

You opened and closed your mouth while the seeming permanent blush appeared once more. Your lack of defense brought a small joy to Jessup, a feeling he accepted he would never feel again when his name had been called. You took a deep breath before properly explaining your reasoning for your little deal.

"I'm doing this in part for Coriolanus, yes. I would be lying if I said I wasn't. Another part is for Lucy Gray. I've never met anyone like her, and I think that's a universal experience. If I can't save you, I will save her. I won't let your sacrifice be for nothing. We've taken enough from you."

There was silence for a few moments as Jessup processed. He believed you, maybe too easily, but he did. What he couldn't believe is that you were Capitol.

"Don't say that."

"Say what?"

" 'We'. You are not the same as the people who put us here. You aren't like the rest of the mentors."

Your eyes shined with a few tears of gratitude as you struck your hand out. You had a lopsided smile and a laugh as you uttered a singular word.

"Deal?"

A nod and hidden smile were paired with a reciprocated action as your hands shook.

"Deal."

Hands still interlocked, the sound of Dean Highbottom's voice rang out.

"Snow. Dovecote. Vaun."

One last smile was sent toward Jessup as you stepped out and made your trek towards the infamous Dr. Gaul.

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You were right.

Clemensia didn't even know the proposals were written. Well you did cherish your friend, you had to admit Coryo wad far kinder than you would have been if you were in his shoes.

Clemensia vouleentered for this and yet she couldn't make the effort? You didn't appreciate being her excuse when he own excuse was able to get the work done. This wasn't some school project. This was real life and possibly world changing. You hoped, for her sake, Clemensia knew what she got herself into.

The three of you walked into the expansive lab fillied with odd creatures in all sorts of liquids and devices. You watched Coryo walk over to one and tap on its glass as you examined it from afar. Out of thin air, the peculiar woman appeared, slightly startling you and Clemensia.

"The star burns as it is orbited. Flames lick across it's surface while those circulate it with no fear. Fire pours and the star glows!"

You take in the woman's odd words and look to Coryo to confirm she is talking about and your condition from yesterday. She did call you and Coryo stars so it wouldnt be too far fetched. Unlike the head Gamemaker.

"The sun gets orbited, not stars."

You hear Clemmie whisper into your left ear and you sighed.

"Clemmie, the sun is a star."

Dr. Gaul overhead your whispers as she sent a quizzical and nerve wrecking look towards your companion, causing the latter to slightly shiver.

"Come and see my new babies."

The sickly sweet tone of the Gamemaker certainly didn't settle Clemensia's shivers. Your concerned eyes connected with Coryo, who also seemed apprehensive at the offer.

You followed the graying woman to a circular glass tank containing a vast array of slithering colors. You let your hand slide across the glass, oddly satisfied as the snakes followed your fingers.

"Is there a point to the color?"

"There’s a point to everything, Ms. Dovecote, or to nothing at all. Which brings me neatly to your proposals."

You sucked in a breath as you realized you could easily be thrown into the snake tank. But she wouldn't do that if she hated your proposals right? She might.

"Miss Vaun, next time, ask for a hospital room with better lighting. Your handwriting was incredibly messy."

You turned your head slightly in confusion. Should you be happy that's the only she has issues with? Is this her way to get you distracted to easily throw you in with the reptiles without fight? You didn't expect praise but you didn't know what to make of her given comments. Though you were quick to learn you should be greatful for having notably bad hand writing.

"For you two, which one of you actually wrote it?"

Dr. Gaul turned her unnerving gaze upon your friends. You knew who wrote it, so did they, and it seemed like Dr. Gaul had an inkling.

"Well, there was-"

"I was inspired by Coriolanus yesterday, of course. His little betting idea. But the sponsorships and the gifts in the arena, those were all mine."

You stood there shell shocked as you saw the girl unabashedly take credit for work she didn't even give a word to. The betrayal evident on her supposed partners face as he questioned her.

"Clemmie?"

The confusion between you and Coryo was not shared by Dr. Gaul as she was utterly unfazed.

"So it’s your sweaty handwriting on that page. Very impressive, Ms. Dovecote."

You watched as Clemensia proudly smiled at the woman's praises. Dr. Gaul's approval and audible pride in work was never a good sign. Oh how you wished Clemmie could have seen that.

"Unfortunately, my assistant mistook it for trash this morning and lined the shelf of this very terrarium with it. So, please, Ms. Dovecote, retrieve it for us, won’t you?"

All color of the already pale girls face was drained, a recation copied by both you and Coryo. Your brain ran through all the scenarios to get Clemensia our of there or what could have been if you just hadn't spoken up. None of Clemensia's actions were your fault but you couldn't help but step in.

"I can grab them, if that wouldn't be an issue."

A part of you wished you kept quite as the manically calculated eyes of Volumina Gaul met yours.

"Well they are Miss Dovecotes wonderfully inspired ideas. It is best for her to share it with us, isn't that right?"

You could do nothing but nod along, realizing there wouldn't be a way to get your dark haired friend out of this.

Dr. Gaul turned back to address Clemensia, who was clearly holding back screams of panic. A sight that brought a sick sense of satisfaction to the older woman.

"Don’t worry, my little predators are perfectly docile with those they can trust.

So if they’re used to your scent, if you’ve handled their food, for example, or if they’ve inhaled the sweat of your palm on a page, they’ll leave you alone."

The chilling woman curled closer to the panicking teen as she inhaled her fear.

"A new scent, however…

you’d be on your own, little girl."

That soft tone was quickly replaced with the ragged and stone cold demand.

"Retrieve it."

You felt yourself being held back by some force. You weren't running after her. You weren't jumping into the snake pit. You thought it was the fear holding you back, but you felt the familiar arms of Coriolanus Snow ensuring you weren't going to jump into danger yet again. Whether or not you both wanted to admit it, Clemensia got herself into this situation all on her own.

You held on his arms as you watched the mentor's hand go further and further down the pit of vemenous danger covered in an array of bright colors. The tips of her finger brushed against the page unharmed and a slight breath of relief, Clemensia reached fully for the paper.

The scream scratched against the deepest edges of your ears. Corners of your earlobes that haven't been touched since the death of your mother. Why is it that all those who you love have the scream?

"Clemmie, no! NO!"

When the girl jumped back in pain and shock, Coriolanus was quick to move you the way, accidently creating the clear path as she fell off of the slightly elevated platform. The gasped and clawed at her neck as you both rushed to her side, unsuccessful in finding a way to help your suffering Clemmie.

"You asked about the colors, Ms. Dovecote? I want my enemies to see a rainbow of destruction engulfing the world. I’m not above using spectacle to create a little terror."

You saw the vision but could care less as you desperately tried to comfort your friend.

Is this how you looked less than a day ago? Whipering in the floor while your neck is covered in evidence of an attack?

Some of Dr. Gaul’s assistants rushed over to take Clemensia away, having to push you away to do so. You wanted to run after her but was frozen once more by that sick voice.

"A strategy your classmate here articulated very well in his proposal."

The woman's fascinating eyes moved off of the now horrifyingly still form of Clemensia and back to you and Coriolanus.

"They’re good, your suggestions. The both of you. I’m going to recommend my team implement as many as possible tomorrow."

Coriolanus took the shock for the both of you as you were still focused on the now gone squirming figure of Clemensia Dovecote.

"Will she die?"

You didn't know what to expect exactly but of course, the reality of Dr. Gaul was even more appealing.

"The pleasure in breaking ground in one’s research is one gets to find out."

You shivered at her degradation of the girls struggle into a science experiment. You might have made a mistake mixing in with her, no matter the promise it held.

"You better keep Ms. Dovecote’s fate between us. I don’t think her mother would be happy to learn how she caught this sudden… flu."

You and Coryo shared yet another look as alarms rang in your eyes. Would you two be next if you were unsatisfactory?

Any fear picked up from either of you was ignored by the head Gamemaker as she sighed whisfully.

"Now run along, you have an arena to promote and it’s time for my milk and crackers."

⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆

The arena wasn't far from Dr. Gaul’s laboratory. Only a few streets away, in fact. The entire way was filled with silence between you and Coryo, but it doesn't mean there wasn't communication.

Coryo kept his arm around your waist as you laid your head on his shoulder. He knew what Clemensia's screams reminded you of. He saw the memories flash before your eyes and instinctively scanned Clemmies mouth for any blood. Snow tried to convince you not to go to the arena.

He could look around with both Lucy Gray and Jessup if you wished. But you refused. You wished to tell him of your deal, but you doubted Jessup would inform Lucy Gray, so it would only be fair if you kept quiet for now.

When the pair of you reached the arena, the rest of your classmates and tributes were lined up, waiting for you two. How they knew Clemensia wasn't coming, you weren't sure, but as soon as you and Coriolanus ran all the way to the front where District 12 was held, you began the walk-in.

Coryo was in front of you as you took shallow breaths while walking into the area where you knew only one of the 23 kids would walk out. Your focus was on the blonde curls and square shoulders of your Coryo. Your Coryo. This was a very bad timing for this very sudden thought to appear.

Thankfully, or not, the robotic female voice poured out of the speakers as Coriolanus and Lucy Gray crossed the gates.

"Enjoy the show!"

Of course, it had to say that.

"Enjoy the show!"

The voice continued to repeat itself as the rest of the pairs walked in, along with a few peacekeepers. You watched as Festus directed camera crews to focus on the still sneering Coral. Sneers that were being sent pointedly in your direction. You looked over to Jessup, who seemed to be slightly dazed.

"Jessup?"

The boy turned to you, and it took him a moment for recognition to flash before his eyes. You gulped as you realized that Jessup won't be able to keep his side of the offer for long. But you were determined to keep yours up until the end.

The thought made you turn to the girl you wished to protect. She looked scared and has full reason to. She turned to Coriolanus with pleading eyes. You took a breath and nodded to whatever her request was. She looked back around, still apprehensive. Coryo could have followed her gaze, but instead, he met yours.

In the very same place where half of the inhabitants of the space will be dead starting tomorrow, he looked so calm. He looked worried and was scheming in his brain when he was talking to Lucy Gray, but when he met your eyes? He looked so at peace. You could be imagining it, but that smile was so, so real.

A true and lovesick smile. A smile that grew with every second that you met his gorgeous blue eyes. A smile that you matched in tandem. Young and in love. Lovesick looks across the battlefield.

To be in love during war is the worst casualty of them all.

The sound of heartbreak was the only sound that was more shattering than the explosions that blew around you all.

⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆

a/n: please don't send dr. gaul to my house because i tool FORVER to finally upload this! thank you so much for the wait and support loves, it means the world! pls lmk what you all think💓

@notyourwildestdream 🌹@darktrashsoulbear🌹@fantasylovestoryme 🌹@nekee-lilac02 🌹@a-avengerparker 🌹 @queenofshinigamis 🌹@darlingisntit 🌹 @scarletstarrs 🌹

[ravennaortiz]

Okay I'm back again. This time I'm going with Guero. Let's go with prompts 2,11,40, and 30.

Welcome back lovely! You want my sweetie pie Guero and with those prompts? I can work some magic for ya! As always my stories are 18+!

Prompts:

2. I'm not the right man for you

11. I'm not enough for you

40.That hurt/Hurts

30. I need you

Tag List: @keyweegirlie

Mistake

Guero couldn't take his eyes off you as you played pool with Coco, Gilly and Angel. His grip on his beer tightening as he saw Angel's hand brush your hip in passing. His growing anger and jealousy had his vision darkening. I did this to myself he thought as he tried to rationalize and talk himself through this. He had been the one to break up with you. Through text to add insult to injury. Telling you he was not the right man for you and that he wasn't enough for you and never would be.

He had declined your call like a coward not once but all ten times. He knew if he heard the pain in your voice that he would take it back. He knew he needed to protect you and that in order to do that you two could not be together. When you texted asking if he was breaking up with you he had doubled down on being Santo Padres biggest asshole. - Thought you were a smart girl? Basic English to hard? I can do Spanish if you want.- You had left him on read. That had been two months ago.

What Guero had failed to consider was you had been a regular visitor to the clubhouse your whole life. You had been around longer than he had and the guys in the club were your friends first. So for the last sixty days he had seen and or heard you. Your presence was everywhere. Including his house where your stuff was still strewn around. He slept holding a pillow with your hoodie on it because it still smelled like you. He sometimes used your body wash in the shower and he burned your favorite scented candles sometimes to pretend like things were still normal.

Your laugh broke through his thoughts and he glanced up to see Angel with his arm wrapped around your waist and his face buried in your neck. The two of you leaning into the pool table. His voice of reason was trying to tell him he had no right to be mad or jealous. He had been a fool and fools do not get rewarded.

Unfortunately you had always been his voice of reason. The urge to beat pretty boy Angels face to a bloody pulp had him standing up and starting to stalk over to where you all were. He could care less if this got him kicked from the club. He had no right to touch you like that. Before he could swing he made a split second decision to grab your arm.

"That hurts" you yelped as you felt a sharp pain shoot up your arm as Guero pulled you off balance and away from Angel. Guero kicked himself mentally as he loosened his grip but pulling you closer. Ignoring Angel and the others. I need you" he stated his voice urgent as he let his hands travel your curves.

Why the sharp sting and resonating smack that traveled through the clubhouse surprised him he was not sure. Rubbing his burning cheek he turned and met your angry gaze. "I'm not a club whore" you growled before shoving past him, grabbing your jacket and making your way out the door.

"I think you should have said sorry first" stated Gilly as he sipped his beer before going back to the pool table. "Yeah, feeling her up and saying I need you gave the wrong impression" agreed Coco. "She still loves you. I'm annoyed you broke her heart. We don't take to kindly to her being fucked with but I can see if she will give you another chance. This was my fault after all" stated Angel as he used his boot to scuff at the floor looking guilty.

*A little while later*

"Well get to it. My stupid girl brain will get distracted soon" you snapped as you stood across from Guero. Arms crossed and right foot tapping the ground impatiently. Guero grimaced as you through his words back at him.

"I'm so sorry for hurting you and making you feel small. I love you more than you know. I made a mistake. I wanted to protect you and I thought breaking up would do that." confessed Guero as he stepped closer to you clasping his hands together. "Please give me another chance. I am begging you" he pleaded as he dropped to his knees in front of you."I cannot do this life without. I need you" he murmured as he felt tears slip down his cheeks as he reached for your hand.

You took a deep breath as you felt your own tears start to travel down your face. "One mistake is all you get" you stated after a few minutes.

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[acetechne]

Condensed Milk - A Dirty Money Comic pt 14

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10] epilogue: [ part 11 ] [ part 12 ] [ part 13 ] [ x ] [part 15]

eyy its been a hot minute (a year)

i got over some of (but not all of) my block on this comic that's spinning out of control. there should be more i assume but idk when.

Notes below as per usje

blue sky bert deactivated. manly man soother applied.

ben's ISBN shirt is real - i think i first saw it at the U of T bookstore tbh.

Flashbacks take place sometime between October 2019 and March of 2020, I think.

marie's outfit is based on a drawing i did like TEN YEARS AGO if you can believe (thx for fishing that out @celestialily)

FIFO stands for Fly-In-Fly-Out (i.e. oil camp shift work)

i said earlier in the wips about how i like the trope where stoic characters have the same facial expression for everything- I just think it's funny that for Ben his sole expression is ^_^

joel saying "great to have you back home" is referring to ben being on the east coast / in his element, i'm not conflating NL with the Maritimes I promise.

that said I think they know him well enough that they can tell when he's PISSED lol. I feel like Ben tends to mask his anger a lot (which is why I showed his anger in a reflection rather than on his face in part 6 above there.

but yeah the point of this page is kind of. "ben isnt an idiot and he was genuinely mad and everyone knew it". well. everyone except bertie obviously.

ok seriously what questions do we still have to answer and how do i end this comic before the epilogue is longer than the og? i dont knowwwwww! tell meeeeeeee.

[vampirepirates]

THE LONG WINTER — SANDOR CLEGANE.

Masterlist:

author's note + cast list

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

CHAPTER TEN — BAELOR.

made it out alive,                                 but i think i lost it.

said that i was fine, said it from my coffin.

remember how i died? when you started walking.

For what felt like weeks, Lyarra was not allowed to leave her chambers to do more than wander through the gardens. Sansa, to the best of her knowledge, was being kept from her — a fact that came as no surprise. They were the only Starks left free in King's Landing, it was only logical to keep them from one another.

Aianna was more often than not at her side, every minute of the day. The two ate together, after Lyarra's insistent pleading — they walked together, drank together. Aianna's presence in her life was becoming so familiar that for a moment, the cavity within her didn't feel so wide. The two were wandering through the gardens, when a regal voice called out behind them.

"Lady Lyarra," The voice chimed, a wave of tension flooding through the area at once. Lyarra spun in a flash, brushing her gown in an attempt to collect herself.

"Your grace," Lyarra started, taking in the fear that came with Cersei Lannister's presence. Cersei seemed to rise at the term, sweeping elegantly through the area to come to her side. In this light, she could almost see Jaime's face staring back at her. Identical was an understatement. However, Lyarra had never seen such malice in his eyes — as she saw in the queen regent's at that moment. All the while, Cersei's smile never once slipped from her face.

"My apologies for disturbing you," Cersei amended, though her tone held no true remorse. Lyarra watched as her gaze caught on Aianna, questioning — as if she didn't understand why the girl was still there. Aianna nodded at once, grasping the bottom of her dress in hand as she stepped out. "I was wondering if you might spare me a moment of your time."

Lyarra knew full well that she had no choice in the matter regardless, but she nodded all the same. Cersei stepped lightly to her side, taking a seat on a bench facing the water. The two were silent for only a beat, before she took note of the queen's imploring stare.

"You have a lovely family. Sansa, the little dove — she's perfect. And your sister-by-law? Lady Stark," Cersei paused, snapping her fingers to summon one of her handmaidens — who all but sprinted to her side, carrying a goblet and a pitcher of wine. The queen regent took one swig, before barring her teeth at Lyarra once more. "She's beautiful. Quite a kind woman, wouldn't you say? I'd hate to bring her more sorrow, in these troubling times."

"Aye, your grace. As would I," Her response only seemed to further amuse Cersei, who leaned forward in her seat — all but pushing herself into Lyarra's space.

"Then tell your brother to confess. Joffrey will name him a traitor to the realm, and have him sent to the wall. Don't let him be a fool."

"If only it were that easy," Lyarra breathed, straightening herself at once — when Cersei's eyes narrowed.

"And why wouldn't it be?"

"Forgive me, your grace. I meant nothing by it. I thank you for your mercy," She nodded, voice shaking as she bent her head low. For a moment, Cersei didn't move — seemingly taking in her anxious state. With a tut, she swept her gown to the side — standing in one quick motion. Just before she made it out of the gardens, she paused — turning back to Lyarra contemplatively.

"Oh, I almost forgot. A word of advice? It appears you've made a friend in Lord Baelish," She started, and at once Lyarra paused. "He's a fickle man, and easy enough to break — but a powerful ally. Don't let him go to waste."

A sharp rap at the door broke Lyarra from her fit of restless sleep. She rubbed blearily at her eyes, trudging to the wooden frame. She paused for only a moment, thinking over who could be at her door at this time of night. It wouldn't be Sandor. After he all but delivered her to her chambers, pulling her niece out of sight — Lyarra was certain she wouldn't see the man again soon. She pulled open the door, taking in the man before her. Varys stood only a foot in front of her, his face covered by a hood — coated by the looming shadow of the halls. He made no indication that he intended to speak, and only stepped away — all but silently guiding her somewhere.

Lyarra stepped back only to locate her furs, pulling them tight around herself as she followed after the man. It was only when the pair began descending down a narrow set of stone steps, that she came to realize where he was guiding her. Down to the dungeons. Her heartbeat rose in terror, her pulse jumping in spikes. Varys was a friend of the crown, an ally to the Lannisters — he could very well be guiding her to her new place of stay. Varys, then, gently eased open the metal gate leading to the cells.

She stepped into the shadows, her gaze narrowing in on the dark figure before her. Before she could control herself, Lyarra dashed to her brother's side — picking his head up in one quick motion to look over him. Eddard grunted at her, but moved just as desperately. He flinched at the light of Varys' torch, raising a hand above his face.

"Eddard— Ned," She started, still running her hands down his face.

"Lord Stark, you must be thirsty." Varys interrupted, raising a wineskin to Ned's face. Her brother raised a brow, taking in both of their presences with equal confusion.

"Varys?" He questioned, looking over the man. "Why would you bring her here, where someone could see you? If she's found—"

"She won't be, I assure you. I have little birds watching our every move. I thought it would do you good to be with family, in these trying times." Varys explained, still holding the skin to Eddard. "I promise you, it isn't poisoned."

Lyarra reached over to take the skin from Varys' hands, taking a swig before she could think better of it.

"Why is it no one ever trusts the eunuch?"

Warily, Ned took it from her hands — gulping down what he could. In an instant, Varys rushed forward — his hand hovering over the skin in trepidation.

"Not so much, my lord. I would save the rest, if I were you. Hide it. Men have been known to die of thirst in these cells." Lyarra shot Varys a sharp glare at his words, causing him to only raise a brow in response.

"What of my daughters? Sansa? And Arya?" Eddard inquired, his voice shaking in hesitation. Lyarra reached to grasp his hand, squeezing it in an attempt to placate the man.

"Arya seems to have escaped the castle," She started, only squeezing stronger as Ned all but shot out of his spot against the wall. "Ned, trust me, I will do everything in my power to find her — but she's safer the further away she is."

"And Sansa?" He questioned, nodding as he took in her words.

"Still engaged to Joffrey," Varys answered, "Cersei will keep her close. The rest of your household, though, all dead, it grieves me to say. I do so hate the sight of blood."

Eddard took another swig, leaning to rest his head against the stone behind him. Lyarra, still bent at his side, curled her legs underneath her — dirtying her robe in the process.

"Do you see now, brother, what I was telling you? This is a game to them. You shouldn't have shown them your hand."

"What madness led you to tell the queen you had learned the truth about Joffrey's birth?" Varys agreed, 'tsking' as Ned all but grumbled at the inquiry.

"The madness of mercy. That she might save her children."

"Ah, the children." Varys started, and for a moment Lyarra was struck by the thought of her own children. Jeyne was safe in Winterfell — something she was more than grateful for. Jon, however, was with the watch. Safer than she was, but she could only wonder how he was faring. "It is always the innocents who suffer. It wasn't the wine that killed Robert, nor the boar. The wine slowed him down and the boar ripped him open, but it was your mercy that killed the king."

Lyarra winced as Varys continued, running a comforting hand along her brother's arm. Ned furrowed his brow, grief flooding into his gaze in waves. She was overcome with sympathy, in that moment. Eddard loved the king, as one loves a brother. The thought that he caused his death likely filled him with nothing but sorrow.

"I'll give you both a moment alone, after this. But I must say, you do know that you are a dead man, Lord Eddard?" Lyarra bristled at the question, but Varys only waved off her concern — eyes narrowing defiantly.

"The queen can't kill me. Cat holds her brother."

"The wrong brother, sadly. And lost to her. Your wife has let the imp slip through her fingers."

Lyarra observed as her brother paused in thought. Each safety net was lost to him. He had nothing keeping him alive, keeping him safe from the wrath of Cersei Lannister.

"If that's true.." Ned started, avoiding her stare with purpose, "then slit my throat and be done with it."

Varys only shook his head, glancing to Lyarra with a narrowed stare. She knew well enough the two had little time. That these could be the last moments she spends with her brother, if fate proved to be favorable to the Lannisters.

"Ned, if you are given the chance — appeal to the queen. Appeal to Joffrey, if you must. Do anything that you can. He will have you sent to the wall. You'll live out the rest of your days as a traitor, but you'll be alive all the same."

"Do you truly think that my life is some precious thing to me?"

"Think of your daughters, then. How will Sansa fare in the capital, knowing she's dining with your killers? Or Arya, lost – and afraid? And what of your sons? You'd condemn them to the same fate that we suffered? Life without a father?"

Ned paused at once, furiously pulling off the cap of the skin to take another swig. After a moment, a sharp thud echoed through the room. They were out of time. Varys swept back into the room, torch in hand — his stare wary. Lyarra lunged forward, pulling her brother into her arms. Eddard leaned into her touch to the best of his ability.

The thought of living without her brother filled her with fear that she hadn't felt in years. The hole that he'd leave in her heart would be insurmountable, forever left gaping. She wished, only then, that Lyanna would be there waiting for him — if he did not manage to make it out of this. She gave him one last lingering kiss on his forehead, before standing to make her leave.

Just before she could follow after Varys, a hand reached out — grasping onto her wrist.

"Lyarra, Lord Baelish—" He started, but was quickly cut off by Varys' pointed tone.

"Forgive me, Lord Stark, but if you do not wish for your sister to be caught and thrown in here alongside you — we must make our leave."

Eddard swallowed, brow furrowed once more. He waved her off, and before she could allow herself to fall back to his side — Lyarra marched forward, following the light of Varys' flame. Just before they had returned to her chambers, Varys took a sharp turn — leading her into the corner of the hall.

"If you didn't listen before, I do hope you'll listen now. You have friends in King's Landing. More than you know. But the ones you have chosen to put your trust in, wish to see the collapse of your family from within. Trust no one. Not even your closest allies."

With that, Varys swept away — leaving Lyarra to wobble in his wake. There was no doubt in her mind that he had been referring to Sandor. If it wasn't known that the two knew one another more than they should, it was made glaringly obvious at the tourney. Only, a thought lingered in the back of her mind. If he wasn't thinking of Sandor, who, then, could he have been referring to?

That night, Lyarra told Aianna she was resting early, and only once the girl crept out of the room — did she peel her furs off of herself, silently dressing herself. Sneaking through the keep was harder now that Lannister guards littered the hall, but she toed through the shadows all the same. It was only when the familiar walls of the brothel came into view, that Lyarra allowed herself a moment to breathe.

As she entered the building, she pulled her hood back warily. Petyr, unsurprisingly, was sitting at his desk — pooling over a pile of papers. His head snapped up at the sight of her, but he didn't look entirely surprised. Instead, he waved her over — gesturing for her to take a seat at his side.

"I'm surprised you managed to make your way out of the keep unscathed." He remarked, his lip curling into a grin. She only shrugged, reaching across his desk to pour herself a mug of wine.

"I'm certain if the queen wanted me locked away, I wouldn't have made it out." She answered, leaning back as the chair creaked beneath her. Petyr hummed, flicking his quill as he wrote.

"Petyr," She called. He did not do so much as raise a brow, but his quill did stop in its movements. "What happened? I thought the city watch would come to Ned's aid."

"Your brother works hard, my lady. I'm afraid the Lannisters simply work harder."

Lyarra nodded, resigning herself to the knowledge that she wasn't going to get anything else out of the man. In an instant, Petyr went back to his movements — leaning into the page. The two sat in silence for what felt like hours, before he finally placed the pen down — turning to Lyarra with purpose.

"I take it you've come to trust my word regarding Clegane?" Petyr inquired, shifting in his seat to face her properly. Lyarra felt her throat close, her blood rushing through her. She'd avoided thinking of the man, to the best of her ability. She didn't search for him in the halls, nor let her mind wander. Lyarra only shrugged once more, taking another swig of wine. Petyr, however, seemed delighted at her response. "The Hound would be a formidable ally, I admit. But he is not a man to be trusted."

"Then, who is?"

"My dear Lyarra," He admonished, reaching to clasp her chin in his hands. At once, her gut plummeted — heat rising from his touch. Petyr ran his thumb across her cheek, pressing in slightly to create pressure against her. All she could hear was the sound of her own breathing, growing quicker within the second. "You know well enough that we can only trust one another. We're alone in this, as it should be. As it was meant to be."

"Can you imagine what the younger versions of ourselves would think? The young ward of Hoster Tully — and Lyanna Stark's twin sister." She held in her flinch at the mention of her sister, instead choosing to nod resolutely with his words.

"I always wanted this for you," Lyarra all but whispered, her fist clenching in her lap. Petyr seemed to pause, his eyes widening. Just as quickly, he collected himself, straightening his collar.

He stood then, pushing in his chair delicately as he presented a hand to her. She took it after a moment of hesitation, raising at his side. He guided her back to the keep shortly after, this time making no effort to linger in the shadows. None of the guards seemed surprised by her presence, and rather only shot her a flit of a glare — before allowing her to push past. Once they reached her door, Petyr paused — leaning forward to place a kiss at the top of her brow. Lyarra felt herself freeze, her breath shallow.

Just as quickly as he'd appeared, Petyr was gone — leaving only the sound of his robe flapping in his wake. As Lyarra reached to open the door, she noticed a large shadow — a figure standing guard, coated by the lack of light in the hall. She only needed a second longer to discover who the figure was. There, Sandor Clegane stood — his gauntlet clenching the hilt of his blade. Lyarra swallowed harshly, before quickly entering her room — all but slamming the wooden door shut behind her.

As expected, sleep evaded her that night. Each time her eyes shut even in the slightest, she was met with the sight of Sandor — standing in the shadows, just as he had been.

The Great Sept of Baelor was a formidable sight, a large enough creation to make one feel dwarfed in comparison. For the first time in days, Lyarra was at her niece's side. When she'd first caught her eye, she had to wrangle the urge to dash to her. Instead, she only stepped in her direction — clutching her hand in hers as the king approached.

The trial of Eddard Stark was soon to come, and Lyarra felt her heart plummeting by the second. Arya was nowhere to be found, a fact that only filled her with further horror. Lyarra cursed herself for not knowing the true extent of the death of her own father. And yet, she was grateful she didn't have to take the sight in herself.

At their side stood the queen, who had her hair styled in a way similar to Sansa's, a fact that was likely intentional. Joffrey, who stood on their left — was adorned with a golden gown, with red stripes. Sandor was hardly noticeable among the group, and yet her eyes lingered on him all the same.

The crowd jeered as Eddard was dragged out of the dungeons, shoved to stand before the king. Sansa trembled at her side, causing Lyarra to reach forward to rest a hand on her arm. Petyr, who stood on the step just below the pair, shot them both an almost-sympathetic glance.

"I am Eddard Stark," He started. At once, Lyarra felt her gut twist into a pit of terror. "Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King."

Ned shot a quick glance to both Lyarra and Sansa. Sansa nodded back, a tentative smile coating her lips. She believed Eddard would be released, that all would be well. Lyarra could only wish she was as hopeful as her niece.

"I come before you to confess my treason in the sight of Gods and men. I betrayed the faith of my king and the trust of my friend, Robert. I swore to protect and defend his children but before his blood was cold, I plotted to murder his son — and seize the throne for myself."

Lyarra swallowed down the bile that rose in her throat as he continued. The thought of her brother disgracing himself, convincing the word that he was a traitor — that he would ever betray the man he viewed as a brother — it made her sick. Eddard fell back as a rock hit his temple, thrown by a member of the crowd. At once, Lyarra dashed forwards instinctively — but was quickly grabbed by her wrist. Petyr shot her a sharp look, nodding towards the guards who had their stare trained on her. Ned met her eyes, shaking his head as subtly as he could manage. Sandor quickly shoved him back into place, catching her gaze for only a moment.

"Let the High Septon and Baelor the Blessed bear witness to what I say. Joffrey Baratheon is the one true heir to the iron throne, by the grace of all the gods — Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

The Grand Maester, Pycelle, stepped forward then, raising a hand to placate the jeers of the crowd.

"As we sin, so do we suffer. This man has confessed his crimes in sight of Gods and men. The Gods are just, but beloved Baelor taught us they can also be merciful." Pycelle paused, turning to Joffrey with a shaking step. All the while, Sandor seemed to have stepped closer — now standing just behind the king. "What is to be done with this traitor, Your Grace?"

"My mother wishes me to let Lord Eddard join the Night's Watch," Joffrey began, raising a hand to wave to the crowd. "Stripped of all titles and powers, he would serve the realm in permanent exile. And my lady Sansa, has begged mercy for her father."

At once, the crowd went silent. Sansa shot the boy a soft smile, one filled with hope. With each coming moment, Lyarra felt dread building within her. Reluctantly, Petyr met her gaze. She knew, at once, what was to come. Petyr did not appear fearful, nor altogether hopeful. He knew, just as she did — that the king was not in the business of sparing mercy.

"But they have the soft hearts of women. So long as I am your king, treason shall never go unpunished. Ser Ilyn, bring me his head!"

Lyarra could hardly hear anything outside of the sound of her own heartbeat. Distantly, she could just make out Sansa's cries — echoing louder than the sound of the queen pleading with her son. Petyr grasped onto her hand in an attempt to pull her back, but she only wobbled in her step. Eddard reared back, and what Lyarra found in his eyes filled her with overflowing horror. Eddard was scared, terrified. She'd never seen such emotion in his gaze. For the first time, he wasn't there to comfort her — he couldn't be. He couldn't help her through this, but she could help him. As Ser Ilyn unsheathed his blade, Lyarra wrenched herself out of Petyr's grasp — dashing forward to her brother's side. If only she could reach him, she could push him out of harm's way. He could run, maybe. She could take the blade for herself, fight each of them off.

Just before she was at his side, she was pulled back once more — this time with a harsher yank, though not an unfamiliar touch. Sandor had her arms in his grasp, making quick work of spinning her to face him. In the chaos of the moment, no one would notice them. No one would take note of the gentle way Sandor Clegane leaned down, grasping her face in his hands so that she would meet his eyes — and not the empty stare of her brother. So that she would focus on the sound of his breathing, and not the blade meeting Eddard's neck. No one beyond Petyr, that is.

Lyarra buried her face into the chain of Sandor's armor, clinging onto it in an attempt to hold herself up. Screams tore their way out of her lips, muffled only in the slightest. She couldn't live without her brother, not anymore. Losing Brandon was a pain like nothing she'd felt before. Lyanna's death felt as if she'd lost a part of herself, forever empty. But Eddard? Lyarra wasn't certain there was much left to lose. Eddard had been her rock — the one wholly good person she had ever met. A man with honor bleeding down to his core. Her love for him was overflowing, all encompassing — and now, it felt as if the light inside her had been extinguished.

"Don't look, Little Wolf. Don't look," Sandor grunted, pulling her closer to his chest. Only a moment after, he pulled away — gently pushing her to Petyr's side. She realized, then, that his words had been an apology of sorts. He couldn't coddle her any longer, but knew better than to move from her line of sight. Sandor, at once, turned on his heel to his king — who commanded he bring Sansa to her chambers.

Lyarra did her best to take heed of his words, carefully avoiding the now lifeless, headless body of her brother. Instead, she glanced over her niece — who was staring at her pleadingly. Sansa needed her, she realized. She hadn't looked away, she'd seen her father slaughtered before her very eyes. She, just as Lyarra had been, would be raised without a father. Only, she had no other family to protect her — she was far from home, trapped in the Lion's den.

Lyarra swore to herself in that moment that she would not let the Lannisters get their claws on Sansa Stark. She would protect her niece by any means, even at the cost of her own life. Petyr attempted to point her in his direction, but she only stared after the girl as they pulled her away — her heart steeling itself in resignation.

So. Then that happened. This was one of the shorter chapters I'd say, but a lot did happen in it. Lyarra and Sandor are not on the best of terms, but he still shows that he cares for her. Crazy right ...

And what could Varys have meant?? Was that what Ned was going to warn her about?? This is getting intense guys I need a drink.

I don't have much else to say about this chapter tbh. I had to rally myself to complete it. I'm going through a lot outside of this at the moment, so finding the motivation to write has been troublesome. I do have big plans for this fic, though. And I will 100% complete it.

So, here is a bit of an explanation of the plotline of the other characters for a moment. Jon will be following the show plotline, same as Daenerys — with the exception that they share dreams with one another. They meet each other in a dream state more than once (which is alluded to in the previous chapters). So that is something to bear in mind!

On top of that, Reyne will be with Bran and Rickon for multiple chapters. When something happens in her plotline that changes, I will leave a note down here to let you all know. I think only a few chapters will have different POVs, and they will be few and far between.

Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed! As always, feel free to leave a comment blow.

Thank you,

Zevran.