#look at what he's done when he had a week off from every single daily routine at home

[sinnaminsuga]

𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖉𝖑𝖊 𝖒𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘 - changbin x reader

wc: 4,400

cw: mostly fluff but then it gets NSFW. SMUT MDNI.

synopsis: changbin is your favorite barista who makes an effort to make every mundane morning coffee order a little more intriguing.

a/n: i wanted something soft and sweet and playful with binnie but if you know me i can't control my need to be a degenerate!

as always thank you to @httpdwaekki for helping me map this out (PLS BE PROUD OF ME FOR FINDING MY OWN PICS) and i'm including a tag for @thefantasyden because she is changbin's wife after all.

sw: dirty talk, talk of somnophilia, cockwarming, unprotected sex (pls be smarter than that), oral sex (m and f receiving), deepthroating, idk probably more but im bad at this shit.

Stopping at the little cafe down the street from your apartment on your way to work had become somewhat of a ritual for you. You looked forward to the coffee sure, but also the man making it for you. The barista who worked the morning shift, Changbin, was not only handsome but incredibly kind and sweet. In the weeks you’d been frequenting the little spot, you had developed a fun rapport with each other that you really looked forward to each day. It started off as simple hellos and exchanging of names but had developed into him no longer writing your name on your cup and instead opting for funny jokes, questions, or trivia facts. The trick though was that he always wrote the answers on the bottom of your cup so you couldnt find out the answer until you were done with your drink that day. Not only did it make the little game suspenseful but it also kept your mind coming back around to thoughts of the handsome man who started it.

Today was no different, you walked into the shop, saw Changbin behind the counter, caught his eye, drank in his gorgeous smile at your arrival, and approached the counter to order.

“Well well well, if it isn't my favorite customer!” he greeted you, leaning forward onto the counter. You couldn't help but glance down at his arms, they were so distracting sometimes with all that muscle on display. Quickly you averted your gaze to the menu board but unbeknownst to you, Changbin caught your appraisal of his body. He grinned secretly to himself before speaking.

“I don't know why you're looking at my board like you're going to order anything different than your usual.” he joked.

You put on a fake pout and turned to him. “I hate that you’re right. Whatever, coffee jockey. Just get me my drink!” you teased, poking out your tongue at him. His head dropped and his shoulders shook with the laugh that bubbled out of him. He wagged a finger at you and turned to make your drink.

You would never say it out loud but when Changbin turned around to make your daily beverage, it was one of the best parts of the interaction. It gave you nothing but time to feast your eyes upon the expanse of his wide back, the subtle tapering of his waist to his hips, and of course the curve of his ass. Hey, he is the one who put the tight pants on okay, he was practically begging you to look! Or at least that's what you told yourself. You were so lost in thought about what might be hiding under his signature form fitting black t shirt that you almost got caught gawking.

Changbin turned back to you, classic to-go cup in hand and you noticed his familiar handwriting on the side of the cup. His grin had you speculating what today’s joke or question might be. You took the cup from his hand and spun it to start reading it.

“ ‘What's the best thing you can do with 10 single digit numbers?’ ugh not fair, I hate math, I’ll never figure this one out!” you whined and stomped your foot. This prompted him to laugh again, carding one hand through his dark wavy hair while the other pushed his glasses back up the delicate bridge of his nose.

“There's nothing to figure out, I always give you the answer! Just think of me as your own personal snapple cap.” he retorted, eyes glimmering.

You huffed playfully and took a sip of your coffee before narrowing your eyes at him. “Alright well one day, I’m gonna know the answer all on my own and impress you. Just you wait!”

“You already impress me…” Changbin murmured just low enough you could barely hear it, but you did. For his sake though, you just pretended not to. “Anyway, this one is on the house, I’m feeling generous today. See you tomorrow?” he asked, his tone hopeful.

“Same time as always Bin,” you said as you turned to leave, “but be ready for me to have a witty response to today's question though!” you called over your shoulder with a smile.

***

All morning you pondered what the hell the answer to this number question would be. You cursed yourself for not asking for an iced drink instead so you could just chug it and look at the bottom of the cup.

After a while of typing, you reached out for your coffee and took the last sip cheering internally because now you could finally find out the answer!

When you lifted the cup and your eyes fell on Changin’s neat and tidy handwriting, your mouth dropped open. Surely this was a dream, right? You couldn't take your eyes off the numbers, his phone number, and the words “Call me!” in his personal script.

Almost mindlessly you picked up your phone and tapped out the numbers, your thumb hitting the call icon. After just two rings Changbin’s voice traveled into your ear.

“Hello?” he asked casually.

“Hi, Bin? This is you, right? You questioned, almost expecting it to be a prank.

“Ah, I see you've finished your drink! This might have been my best idea yet.” he chuckled. “Takes you a while to drink your coffee huh? I assumed you’d be quicker to finish, what with all the energy you have.” He flirted, and you had to cover your mouth to muffle the gasp at his innuendo. It didn't work though and he just ended up laughing louder.

“I’ll have you know mister Seo Changbin, there's a lot of things i'm quick at…and finishing is not one of them.” you quipped, this time you were the one hearing the gasp from the other end of the call. You couldn't help the grin on your face, talking to him just felt so easy and the flirting was so fluid and felt so good. It had been a long time since you felt this good talking to a man.

“So as much as I love our little coffee cup game, I'd like to buy you a different kind of drink. And dinner to go with it if you’ll let me.” Changbin said, a quiet apprehension coloring his voice like he was worried you might reject him.

“That sounds wonderful Bin, I'd love that. When?” you asked, already trying to plan what to wear.

“Tonight? Or is that too soon? Shit, I sound too eager don't i? Oh whatever fuck it, i am eager. I've been wanting to ask you out for forever!” he hurried out, his voice laced with humor and excitement. You took a few minutes to exchange information regarding the date and decided he would pick you up at seven. You said your goodbyes and hung up before tracking down your supervisor to tell her you weren't feeling well and leaving early to start the weekend. She didn't need to know you were really going home early to prepare for your date, that was your business alone!

***

Seven o’clock came quicker than you expected but luckily you were just slipping on some shoes when the doorbell rang. You took a deep breath to calm yourself before swinging open the door. Changbin looked gorgeous. You'd never seen him out of his apron before so it was a feast for your eyes. He went monochromatic in his look for the evening with black pants and a black button up shirt and it was enough to almost make you whine. He looked so damn good you couldn't stop yourself from making a joke to distract from your glaringly obvious staring. “Wow, I can't remember the last time I went on a date with a man who actually tucked his shirt in.” you quipped, making him laugh. “I'm concerned about where you're finding these men, tucking in your shirt is maybe the most work a man has to do in the getting ready for a date process.” he said, leaning against the doorframe grinning. “Now let's get this date started.” Changbin said, offering his hand to you and leading you to his car.

***

“You can't just drop insane lore on me like that and not explain! Start talking!” you hissed from across the table. “There's not much to tell! I was young with no work experience and I needed a job!” Changbin said, throwing his head back laughing.

“You can’t seriously tell me you believed it was a paid position on a dance team, he was so clearly pedaling a “Magic Mike” situation Bin!” you were wheezing at this point.

You had been talking about anything and everything for what seemed like hours and you had asked him how he got his current job. The story being that he used to go to the coffee shop every night before they closed to get his caffeine buzz for his job at a club downtown. He was a bouncer but the original interview hadn’t been for that. A man had scouted him on the street one day and asked him to come audition to be a member of a “dance team he was putting together”, and Changbin had been so sweet and naive that he believed him and went.

“Well I definitely knew what kind of “dance team” it was after he told me to take my pants off!” Changbin whined, covering his face with his hands as you cackled.

“Anyway, I told him I couldn't do that but I would work the door as long as he never asked me to strip again. Then I decided one day that the night shift wasn't for me and I just applied for the barista job and worked my way up.” he said, rightfully proud of himself and his accomplishments.

The waiter stopped by and delivered the coffee you ordered after dessert and scurried away again. You lifted the cup and took a sip, not enjoying it even a little. Your face must have shown it because Changbin huffed a quiet laugh before saying “The coffee sucks huh?”

With a shy smile you replied, “I’ve definitely had better.” A light blush tinged his face, knowing you were talking about the drinks he made for you every day. He reached across the table to take the cup from your hands and when his fingers brushed yours you swore there were sparks. He lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip. “Oh babe, it's not just bad. Its fucking burnt!” he said, scowling at the mug like it had insulted him.

“Let's get out of here. I’ll make you a better one.” He said, tossing some money onto the table for your dinner bill and offering you a hand to lead you to his car once again.

***

When you pulled up in front of the coffee shop you were confused. When Changbin offered to make you a drink, you assumed it was a flirty line and a way to get you into his apartment. But apparently he was serious when it came to the coffee.

You stood behind him as he unlocked the door and then he ushered you in.

“Bin are we supposed to be in here?! It's after hours! Won’t you get in trouble?” You whispered, trailing behind him as he flicked on a few lights and went behind the counter. When he turned to look at you his eyes were twinkling like he was in on a secret you had no idea about.

“Sweetheart, I own this place. And my apartment is upstairs, I can do whatever I want!” he said, shooting you a proud smile as he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows.

Your jaw dropped at his confession. You quickly schooled your expression and leaned on the counter. “So allllllll those times I playfully threatened to tell your manager you were messing with me, you were the manager the whole time?!” you screeched at his back while he prepared your coffee.

“Well...yeah i guess so!” He chuckled as he poured some espresso into a small cup. He finished making your beverage and turned to hand it to you. He looked so good with his sleeves rolled up, his hair a bit messy, and his glasses sitting just right, you couldn't help but stare at him for a moment. When he blushed again, you shook yourself out of your trance and took the cup, bringing it to your lips to take a long sip. Your eyes closed and you hummed a sound of satisfaction at the drink, he always made it just right. When you opened your eyes again that's when you noticed the writing on the cup. Looking at the side of it, you noticed he was continuing your usual game so you began to read it aloud.

“You can use me to say hello, and to say goodbye. I’m not as good when I’m too dry. I can be quick or I can be slow. What am I?” you spoke, curiosity coloring your tone. At the same time you were reading the riddle, Changbin was rounding the counter to stand in front of you. He reached out and took the cup from you, tipping it back and downing the rest of the liquid before handing it back to you. Your heart pounded as you tipped it back and read the two simple words on the bottom of the cup out loud.

“A kiss.” you breathed out. And then it happened. Changbin’s hands fell on your waist and pulled you toward him, your lips meeting gently. His mouth moved against yours as his fingers gripped your hips. Your pulse was racing and the only thing you could think of in this moment was how badly you wanted him. It had been months of playing around this attraction and it was all coming to a head. It seemed like Changbin felt it too because it was as if he couldn't get your body close enough to his even though you were pressed together. He was grabbing at any bit of you he could get his hands on and sweeping his tongue into your mouth as you gasped. It was the hottest kiss you’d ever had and your brain just chanted “more, more, more”.

He hiked your leg up over his hip and his thigh rubbed at you just where you wanted it to. You threw your head back as you panted for air but Changbin never slowed. His lips fell to your now exposed neck and shoulder where he alternated between kissing and sucking at your skin. You squeezed his biceps as his teeth grazed your pulse point. Then a thought pierced through the lust addled fog and you realized where you were, the coffee shop. In full view of the big glass windows facing the street.

“Bin…Bin hold on! People will see us!” You squeaked, horrified at the notion that any random person walking by might see you being taken apart by this man.

“Don’t care. Want em to see. Mine.” He panted against the skin above your breasts, rocking you against his thigh. The motion sent you reeling for a moment, the delicious friction against your center almost too good.

“Bin, take me upstairs. Please?” you whimpered against his mouth after pulling his face to yours.

“Yeah. Yeah youre right. Okay c’mon.” He mumbled, realizing maybe the idea of being seen wasn't the best idea for business reasons. He took your hand and pulled you to the back of the shop and lead you up the stairs. When you crossed the threshold of his apartment you didn't have much time to take it in but from what you saw it was very cute with some unique furniture pieces and light fixtures. Changbin weaved you through his apartment to his bedroom where as soon as you were in it, he had you against the wall with his lips attacking any sliver of skin he could get to. Your chest was heaving as he made quick work of your clothes and stripped you down to your bra and panties. He stepped back with a hand over his mouth, his breathing heavy as well. You felt very exposed as his eyes raked over you so you tried to make a joke.

“I’m almost naked and you're still fully clothed. Doesn't seem very fair, Binnie.”

“Fuck, say that again.” He groaned as he rushed back to you.

“Binnie?” You questioned.

“God, I love the way that sounds comin’ out of your mouth.” He pulled you to the bed and laid you down before reaching down to remove your panties. He gently pushed your legs apart and a low rumble resonated from him. “So fucking pretty. God damn, even prettier than I dreamt.” He groaned.

“Been dreaming about me huh? Why don't you have a taste and find out if I live up to your expectations?” you flirted as you brought your hands up to remove your bra.

And he didn't need to hear anything else. He dropped to his knees and drove right in. Immediately his lips latched onto your clit and he sucked, hard. Your back bowed up off the bed and a scream tore out of you at the unexpected intensity. Two of his fingers began rubbing at the wetness seeping out of you, and then he slowly pushed them inside. It felt like he was everywhere all at once and you were on complete overload. He continued lapping and sucking at you as his finger pumped lazily in and out of you, scissoring every few thrusts like he was trying to stretch you out. When your moans increased in volume and your hands fisted the sheets, Changbin curled his fingers and pressed against the spongy patch inside you. He rubbed over the spot repeatedly and gently bit down on your clit making you wail as you fell apart.

He removed his fingers and brought them to his mouth to suck them clean. The shine on the lower half of his face was all you and it brought you a sick kind of joy seeing yourself all over this beautiful man.

Changbin quickly removed his clothes until he was standing in front of you only in his boxers. You slid off the bed and onto your knees in front of him. When you looked up at him he was already staring down at you and it made you feel so good, knowing he enjoyed seeing you like this. You reached up and slowly drew his boxer briefs down, his cock springing free and slapping at his stomach.

“Jesus fuck.” You breathed, in awe of his size and the pretty leaking tip.

“What? Is everything okay? We can stop!” he hurried out and nervously pushed his glasses back up his nose as they had started to slide down from the angle he was looking at you from.

“No! No we are not stopping, fuck no. It’s just…you've got the biggest dick I’ve ever personally seen. Took me by surprise for a second is all, even though it shouldn't have. I should have known from how you carry yourself. Major BDE.” you explained and he started to laugh.

You leaned forward and in one go, took as much of him into your mouth and throat as you could, punching a sound out of him you'd never heard before but were determined to get him to make it again.

“Fucking hell baby, that was a lot. God damn it, your mouth is so hot.” he moaned out as his hips started to move. His hand weaved into your hair to hold your head still as he shallowly thrusted into your eagerly awaiting throat. Your eyes almost rolled back as you savored the taste and weight of him on your tongue.

All too early it seemed, he withdrew from your mouth. He started to chuckle but you didn't know why until he spoke. “You're pouting sweetheart. I took my dick out of your mouth and you look disappointed. I might be the luckiest man alive.”

“I like it. Helps me turn my brain off. And you taste good.” you mumbled. His hand came down to caress your cheek. “God, youre an angel huh? Sent just for me. C’mon, up.” he said as he helped you stand.

Changbin got on the bed first before motioning you to climb on top of him. “Wan’ you on top first. Easier for you to control how much of me goes in at once. Will you ride me baby?” he asked.

“First?” you questioned, still standing beside the bed. He looked at you confused.

“You said you want me on top first. You gonna be movin’ me around a lot?” you asked with a grin.

“Baby, i’m going to have you in so many ways tonight. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” He said as you threw a leg over his lap.

You reached forward to take his glasses off for him but he stopped you. “No. I wanna see you, perfectly. Now go on, put me inside pretty girl.” And who were you to argue?

You reached beneath you to grab hold of him and line him up with your entrance. As you slowly sank down on him you watched his face. He stared at the spot where your bodies were now joined for as long as he could bear before you were fully seated on him and his head shot back. His hands wrapped around your thighs were squeezing you so tight you wouldn't be surprised to see bruises in the morning. You planted your hands on his pecs and thats when you saw it, the tears spilling out of his eyes that were slammed shut.

“Bin? You okay baby?” You cooed.

“Uh-huh. Jus’ feels s’good. Been waiting for this, for you, for months. God, feels so good it almost hurts sweetheart.” he whimpered on a shaky breath.

“It’s okay, M’gonna make it all better okay? Promise.” you said, leaning down to kiss him as you started to rock your hips. Gradually you picked up speed and were riding him in earnest, desperate to get him as deep as possible.

“Ughhh Binnie, feels so good. So big too, stretches me out so perfect.” you moaned.

“Yeah? You feel me so deep huh? Fuck youre so warm inside. Feel like im gonna bust like a fucking teenager.” Changbin groaned as you fucked him hard and fast, riding him like you had something to prove. You kept at it for a few more minutes until he stopped you to change positions.

He flipped you onto your stomach and pushed one leg up so you were flat on the bed but your legs were spread enough for him to settle between them. You felt the head of his cock prodding at you and then he sank inside in one fluid thrust. It was lucky you were already flat on the bed because if you hadnt been, you were sure your knees would have given out. He fucked into you like that for a few minutes and then he slowed down again. He leaned over you and pressed his chest to your back.

“I’m gonna try something, if you don't like it just tap my arm twice okay?” he asked and all you could do was moan out what you thought was an “okay”. Suddenly he looped his arm underneath your neck and bent it at the elbow effectively putting you in a headlock. He started thrusting into you again at a steady even pace and slowly he increased the pressure of his bicep and forearm against your airway. The obstruction of your airway was enough to send your brain into a foggy cloudy space and you loved it. It heightened the sensations of everything else. You could feel his sweat slicked chest sliding against your back, you could feel his cock throbbing inside you, and you could feel the heat in your lower belly building.

“Youre so fucking pretty like this baby. A beautiful doll just for me to play with huh?” he said. “Yeah you like it like this don't you? Quiets your brain for a while doesn't it? Makes you so cockdrunk you can't think of anything else. So beautifully mindless just for a little while. Binnie will take care of you baby, don't worry.” he spoke softly and you could feel that heat inside you skyrocketing. Who knew this sweet man was so nasty in bed? “Why dont you cum for me baby, hmm? Give it to me sweetheart, wanna feel this tight little pussy sucking me in.” he encouraged as he kept moving inside you. “C’mon…c’mon baby. Yeaaaah there it is. Good girl.” he coaxed as you exploded around him with a yelp. He released your neck from his hold and used both hands to pull your hips up.

“Can’ hold myself up Binnie. You have to do it.” you whined, exhausted and boneless from your second mind blowing orgasm of the evening.

“S’okay baby, I got you. Don’t worry, I'm so close, keep squeezing me like that. Yes yes yes…” he mumbled as he continued to batter your insides with his huge dick. About four thrusts later he was spilling inside you, laying claim to your walls with his cum.

Changbin was over the moon and not ready for this to end so he stayed inside you and rolled you both over onto your side into the spooning position. He reached over you to grab the blanket and cover you both.

“You wanna stay inside me Binnie? You want me again soon?” You yawned out, exhausted from the vigorous activities.

“Mhm…feels so good. Feels right, like i belong there. That okay?” He asked, his voice gentle as his hand stroked the soft skin of your thigh.

“Mmm yeah. Like it. Fuck me again when you wake up though okay? Even if i’m still asleep. Wan’ wake up to you drilling me.” You mumbled, fully about to descend into sleep safe and warm in his arms. Changbin groaned and bit down on your shoulder before he responded.

“God youre fucking perfect aren’t you pretty girl? Sure, as soon as i wake up I’ll fuck you into the mattress. Whatever you want baby, Rest up. I’m far from done with you.”

The End

[nashusglasses]

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.**.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.**.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.**.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.**.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

(background to this nsfw drabble)

thinking of marriage of convenience AU with jing yuan and general’s daughter!reader from xianzhou yuque. a rogue sect of the disciples of sanctus medicus try to execute a plot to destroy a jade abacus warehouse on the yuque—important machinery is destroyed, two critical injuries reported, one death—and intra-alliance tensions among the populace start to boil over. arrests are made. citizens are scared. general yaoguang knows the cloud knights are smart and resource-savvy enough not to respond to any taunts from angry yuque residents of the luofu, but he’s champing at the bit trying to quell public dissatisfaction on either ship. it’s fu xuan who suggests it in one meeting with jing yuan and yaoguang.

“great relations,” she says, “start with an even greater union.”

you’ve been married for five months. you’re lucky if you see jing yuan more than twice a week, and today he’s holed up in his home office signing off on contracts for the alchemy commission to order new supplies. he’d said good morning when you entered the kitchen for breakfast, and you could only offer a nod before he bade you farewell for the day. a typical conversation. you’re not unhappy, but you are awfully bored. 

your handmaiden, lihua, promised a new harvest from the garden today. she’s back by the time you’re done with your speech lessons (you still struggle to adapt to the local dialect, but jing yuan has always been kind not to fuss about your vowel inflections), and you help her wash and spread the fruits on bamboo-woven trays in the cool heat of the afternoon. 

“does jing yuan have anything to drink on days like this?” you ask lihua.

she hums thoughtfully. “i’m sure he’d appreciate his wife coming to greet him with something sweet. can i show you how to make simple syrup?”

it’s simple enough. you make a pitcher of iced lemonade in no time, and lihua prepares a tray for you to bring a glass to jing yuan’s office. you shake with every step you take. internally, you scold yourself for feeling so anxious — this is your husband. jing yuan, who asked you personally for your allergies and food preferences to curate a menu for your daily consumption for the kitchen staff to follow. jing yuan, who had a room specially built for you in the east wing after you’d told your father how much you’d miss seeing the sunrise from your window. jing yuan, who’d once accidentally walked in on you in the hot springs on his rare day off, and grew as red as an angry tuskpir, leaving with a hasty apology. (you didn’t see him for three weeks after that.)

you steel your resolve, and knock on the door. when he doesn’t answer, you gently creak the door open, jing yuan coming into view as he’s hunched over sheets of paper, hair tied haphazardly with his red ribbon. he holds his pen so rigidly. you wonder if he’s taken a break at all today. 

you tiptoe in, lest you break his focus. “sorry,” you whisper. “i brought this for you.”

jing yuan spares you a single glance, watching you position the glass at the edge of his desk. he does not say a word. 

you think… he might be a little peeved. yes. why would you even think of interrupting him? oh god. his schedule must be packed tight, his rhythm stunted with your unannounced arrival. you immediately open your mouth for an apology, feeling the pinpricks of tears at the thought of disappointing him.

he’s already looking away. his writing is even faster than before. you leave with a bow and nothing else to say.

(jing yuan drinks your lemonade in three gulps after you’ve closed the door behind you. he reminds himself to have a bundle of flowers delivered to your bedroom door by sunrise the next morning. for the rest of his working day, your face, so beautifully concerned, plagues his head.

he wants to know what else makes you cry.)

[bellaxgiornata]

A Favor from the Devil |Chapter Two|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Mom!Reader Word Count: 3.4k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; Domestic abuse, depictions/mentions of sexual assault, struggles with past trauma, canon-typical violence, angst with a happy ending, friends to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut (possibly more warnings to come)

a/n: Throwing the second chapter at y'all because I can and I feel like y'all needed some Matt. You get his POV in this chapter, too! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Tag list: @kee-0-kee @dethspllz @a-half-empty-g1rl @senjoritanana @kezibear @sleepysleepymom @danzer8705 @scriptedmoon @flowher @wanda-maxamommy @guccicloudz

Making your way through the crowded streets of Hell’s Kitchen, you guided Evelyn back towards your apartment. Both of her small hands clung tight to yours as she walked in silence beside you. Every time someone stepped a little too near to the pair of you, you felt her draw herself in closer to your legs, her fingers squeezing tighter around yours. In your opposite hand you carried a grocery bag that held a single container of vanilla moose track ice cream for tonight–Evie’s favorite flavor. Unfortunately purchasing the ice cream meant you’d had less money to spend on groceries for next week, but you’d happily eat another cheap packet of ramen for dinner and skip lunches at work if the frozen treat could manage to put a smile on her face this evening.

Evie had been silent ever since you’d picked her up after work from her first day of preschool. She hadn’t said a single word, not even when you’d taken her to pick out the ice cream. All she’d done was stand in front of the row of freezers at the store and quietly point to the flavor she’d wanted. You’d tried asking her how her day had gone, what she’d done in class, or if she’d made any friends, but instead of a response you’d only seen her lips draw into a thin line.    

So you’d done what you usually did when Evelyn drew into herself and stopped talking–you talked about your day. Which in all honesty had been horrible because the job you’d managed to acquire was a tedious desk job in which you sat in the tiny confines of a cubicle staring at a computer screen for hours on end. Your boss wasn't great, either. He was always in a bad mood, often making rude comments to you if he wasn't finding a reason to criticize your work. Dealing with his attitude daily for a salary that you could barely survive on usually soured your mood the moment you stepped into the building, but at least your coworker, Amira, made the days bearable. You’d been there for barely two months, but she’d taken one look at you and seen your past written on your face. After that, you’d grown comfortable around her, slowly opening up about your personal life–but not quite all of it.

But of course, you didn’t tell Evie about the bleak and depressing parts of your days at work. You’d always done your best to make it sound like you enjoyed your time there. And even though you didn’t, you were still grateful that you'd found a way to somewhat financially support the two of you.

“Look at that!” you said, gesturing a hand towards your apartment building with the one not currently being crushed in both of Evie’s. “We’re home already!”

Evie remained silent, not expressing a single emotion as to whether she was excited to be back or not. Wordlessly she followed you through the building’s main doors and into the lobby. Once the doors had shut behind you, the sound of the city just a little quieter now that you were off the streets, she seemed to relax. No longer on the crowded sidewalk, Evie’s hands somewhat loosened their grip on yours as you led her over towards the elevators. 

You tried to think of a way that you could cheer her up tonight, hoping to pull her out of her nonverbal phase before it really took hold, but considering your limited funds, you didn’t have many options. The best you could think of was a movie night, though all you had to watch movies on was the cheap cell phone you'd purchased once you'd gotten Evie and yourself out of your previous situation. 

As you pushed the call button for the elevator and waited for it to appear, you did your best to fight back the tears welling in your eyes. If only you could afford to purchase more toys for her to play with. A television and a couch for the pair of you to cozy up on at night. Anything . But all you had was each other. 

The familiar weight of your guilt that permanently sat heavy like a stone in your stomach reared its head. Once more you felt like a shitty mother, failing to provide all the things you wished you could for your child. But yet you refused to break down–at least, not here in front of Evie. You'd wait for the opportunity later tonight when you were certain she was asleep. Right now your priority was cheering her up and turning her day around, not wallowing in your own feelings.

She was the priority, not you.

The elevator doors opened and you forced a smile onto your face, blinking hard a couple of times. You gently pulled Evie along with you, stepping onto the elevator before pushing the button for the sixth floor.

“How about we reheat last night’s pizza and watch a movie on my phone tonight, cricket?” you asked, glancing down at your daughter as the elevator doors closed. “We can cuddle in your sleeping bag and pretend we’re camping. And then we can eat ice cream out of the container for dessert,” you suggested, knowing full well that you didn’t have any bowls in the kitchen yet. “Doesn’t that sound fun?”

Evie’s attention shifted towards you, her expression remaining neutral and impossible to read. She didn’t respond and her continued silence caused the smile on your face to become strained as you fought to keep it there. Your eyes traveled to the numbers above the elevator doors, watching as they changed from a five to a six. At least you’d be back in your apartment soon.

“What’s mute?”

The sound of Evie’s quiet, small voice startled you. As the doors of the elevator slowly rolled open with a ding , you glanced down at your daughter beside you. She was staring up at you with that still hard to read expression on her face. 

“Mute?” you asked, stepping out of the elevator with her. “What do you mean, cricket? Where’d you hear that?”

“School,” she answered. 

A frown settled onto your lips. Had the children there been teasing her? Or worse–the teachers?

“It just means that you–” 

You’d been about to explain the meaning of the word until you’d noticed a man at the far end of the hallway. The unexpected sight of him caused you to instantly grow quiet even though he was just standing outside of the apartment directly across the hall from yours seemingly attempting to unlock his front door. 

Your pace slowed as you observed him, your brain immediately screaming threat at the sight of him. Beneath that tight blue dress shirt he wore you could see that he was broad and muscular, the material pulled taut in various places along his torso. With the way his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, they revealed his thick forearms which hinted at even thicker biceps. Even his thighs filled out the dark slacks he wore, suggesting a strength about him that you couldn’t deny.

He looked intimidating and dangerous. 

You then noticed the cane in his left hand and the dark glasses currently sitting on his nose despite the fact that he wasn’t outside. Watching how he used his hands as he attempted to guide his key into the lock, you quickly pieced things together. Blind, you assumed. He was blind. But his disability didn't matter; he still looked like he could throw a solid punch and that alone had you on edge in his presence. 

Your mouth went dry as you stepped ahead of Evie, somewhat placing your body in front of hers as you both continued down the hallway. Of course you knew this man was most likely going to ignore you both even if he somehow noticed you. He was probably just getting home from work, too. More than likely he just wanted to eat dinner and relax like everyone else in the city. And the likelihood of him being a violent individual seemed slim–because logically you knew that not every man was–but for some reason something about him had put you on alert.

As you neared closer, your heart pounding heavily as the hair prickled along the back of your neck, you caught the way his hands stopped what they were doing. Briefly your feet faltered when you saw his head turn just a fraction over his shoulder in your direction as if he'd somehow picked up on the fact that he wasn't alone in the hallway. 

In that moment, you didn't remotely care if you were being rude or not, you practically dragged Evie the rest of the way towards your door in silence. Already having pulled your apartment key out of your pocket before you'd reached it, you unlocked the door swiftly before ushering your daughter inside. In a panicked rush, you darted after her before shutting and locking the door behind you without a backwards glance at the man.

Standing in front of the door for a moment, you paused to release the breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding. Rude or not, you weren't going to offer him help or introduce yourself. Something about him had triggered your instincts to run and that had been reason enough to avoid him.

You felt a tug at your hand and you snapped out of your thoughts, your eyes dropping down towards your daughter. Evie was staring up at you with wide, worried eyes.

“You okay, mama?” she asked.

Nodding in response, you blew out a rough breath and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze in return. “Yeah, cricket,” you answered, still feeling a little on edge. “Yeah, I'm good.” Clearing your throat, you held up the bag with the ice cream in it and tried to smile back at her. “Maybe I should put this in the freezer before it melts on us after that long walk in the heat, huh?”

Evie gave you a single nod in response before she released your hand. 

Turning towards the kitchen, you made your way over to the fridge and opened the freezer. You frowned at the sole bag of dinosaur chicken nuggets sitting on a shelf by itself. They'd thankfully been on sale the other day–another of Evie’s favorites–but that was all you currently had in the freezer at the moment. 

“What movie do you want to watch tonight?” you asked Evie, placing the ice cream on a shelf.

“Little Mermaid,” she answered softly. 

It wasn't a stretch for you to understand why that movie was often her favorite choice lately. 

“Alright, cricket,” you said, closing the freezer door to open the door to the fridge next. “Why don't you get cozy in some pajamas and I'll start reheating the pizza in the oven? You and Barnabas can get settled in the sleeping bag and I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

You weren’t surprised when Evie didn't respond, but the soft padding of her feet through the apartment and to her bedroom behind you was answer enough. 

Launching himself up onto the platform of the fire escape, Matt began his usual ascent up the neighboring building beside his own apartment building. As he scaled his way upwards, heading towards the roof now that his night was over, Matt's mind was busy working over the information that he'd uncovered as Daredevil tonight. Information he hoped to find ways to use as Matt Murdock this week with Foggy and Karen.

But as he climbed his way up fire escape after fire escape, he couldn't help but feel the exhaustion from the night settling into his body. He'd been running himself ragged all week trying to juggle both halves of his life and tonight he was admittedly feeling the repercussions of it. He needed a good night's sleep, but judging by the sounds of the city, it was probably somewhere around two or three in the morning. If he was lucky, he'd manage to get three or four hours before dragging his tired and battered body back out of bed to get to work.

Finally reaching the topmost fire escape, Matt grabbed ahold of his usual footholds on the side of the building and began pulling himself the rest of the way onto the roof. He let out a soft groan when he lifted himself up and over the railing and onto the rooftop. Briefly collapsing onto his knees, he took a minute to catch his breath. It was hot out this evening and his suit wasn't making him any less warm.

After his short break, Matt forced himself back up and onto his feet before jogging across the top of the building towards his own. He was ready to peel off his sweaty suit and be home for the evening, already looking forward to stepping into his shower and washing off his long day. 

With practiced ease he flung himself between the gaps of both buildings and landed with a sharp jolt. He grit his teeth at the impact, taking a moment to recover before rising to his feet and striding over to the roof access door which led back to his place. But he managed to take all of two steps before his tired ears caught something he hadn't expected.

Crying. Soft, muffled sobs coming from just below where he stood.

Matt hesitated, his eyes narrowing behind his mask as he tried to figure out who would’ve been awake and crying at this hour. The only other people who lived on the sixth floor with him were the long since widowed Mrs. Henderson–who definitely didn't spend her evenings crying–and his new neighbors that had moved in just last night.

The strange and short encounter he'd had with you earlier this evening resurfaced in Matt's mind. He'd been coming home from the office and was busy thinking about what he was hoping to accomplish in the city this evening as Daredevil, barely paying attention to much else. But somehow the immediate and overpowering scent of absolute fear he'd been slammed with had managed to break through his distracted thoughts. He'd felt that overwhelming fear from both you and the young girl which he'd assumed was your daughter from the moment you'd left the elevator and noticed him.

The acrid scent of it had instantly given Matt pause. At first he'd wondered if you both had somehow recognized him as Daredevil. But he'd quickly realized that seemed a stupid and impossible thought the moment he'd had it. But why else would you both become so quiet and fearful of him when he was just unlocking his apartment door? The feeling of your combined emotions had deeply unsettled him. No one had ever reacted to him like that before, certainly not as Matthew Murdock, the friendly, blind lawyer.

Matt had considered trying to turn around and introduce himself to you both, hoping that maybe he would appear far less terrifying to you if he’d flashed a charming smile and given you his name, but you'd grabbed your daughter and darted inside your apartment so fast that Matt hadn't had the opportunity.

It had been…odd. You both had been odd. And admittedly your reaction to him had piqued his curiosity. 

Turning around on the rooftop, Matt casually strode away from the door that led to his apartment and over towards the side of the building near your fire escape instead. Curiosity had won out over a shower and sleep for now. He wanted to make sense of that unsettling experience he'd had with you in the hallway. He hadn't liked scaring you both, feeling like he was some sort of dangerous monster.

Tossing himself over the side of the building, he landed softly onto the fire escape below. He stayed low in a crouch, throwing his senses out into your apartment to make sure he hadn't been seen when he’d dropped down. If you'd reacted the way you had earlier to just Matt Murdock, he could only imagine the reaction Daredevil would receive standing on your fire escape in the middle of the night. 

A minute passed and when no one shrieked or otherwise alerted Matt to having been noticed, he slowly rose to his full height. As he stood there, he could still hear the quiet, muffled crying that he'd caught on the roof continuing from inside. Paying close attention to it, it sounded like the sound was coming from just outside of the door of the bedroom who’s window he was standing at. 

Head tilting curiously to the side, he began examining your apartment as best as he could from the outside. And what he found easily surprised him.

Nothing. There was hardly anything in your apartment at all. He didn’t hear the usual buzz of electronics that he often did–like televisions or computers or even toasters. Focusing even closer, it sounded like the air from the air conditioning unit blowing in your apartment was moving with hardly any interruptions. As if you didn’t even have furniture. And judging from the placement of the crying and the sound of what seemed like your daughter’s even breaths as she slept, both of you appeared to be quite low on the ground. Like you were both lying on the floor instead of on beds.

Matt’s head tilted further to the side, a frown pulling his lips downwards beneath his mask. How strange. Had the pair of you not finished fully moving in yet? Or…did you really not have any furniture? 

Something stirred in Matt’s chest as another one of your sobs hit his ears. There was something going on here, there had to be. People didn’t usually react that way to strangers without cause–he would know because he’d never experienced that level of fear from someone outside of his Daredevil suit before. And there was the fact that you were laying on the floor in front of your daughter’s bedroom instead of laying in the second bedroom that he knew was in the apartment. There was only one reason he could imagine a mother doing that–you were protecting your daughter.

But why? And from who?

Matt reached a gloved hand up and gently rested it onto the glass of the window carefully, trying to focus his senses even more closely inside. He found himself desperately wanting answers about his new neighbors, but just as he leaned forward and turned his head to listen better, he heard a rustling inside the room–distinctly that of a sleeping bag. Terrified of being caught, Matt pushed himself roughly away from the window before beginning to quickly pull himself back up onto the roof. 

“Mama?”

Your daughter had definitely woken, Matt realized. He could hear her pulse steadily increasing now that she was awake. There were only a few seconds that passed before he heard a frantic tossing of a blanket onto the floor before the bedroom door had flung open.

“What’s wrong, Evie? Are you okay? Did you have another bad dream?”

There was a faint shift of air that Matt caught–like your daughter shaking her head–before he heard the scared, small voice again.

“Someone’s here.”

Your body immediately went straight into fight or flight and Matt curiously noted the intensity of it.

“Where, cricket?”

“Outside.”

Matt winced, running a gloved hand over his mouth as he stood there on the roof. So your daughter had noticed something. He needed to be more careful. Hopefully she hadn't seen his very recognizable costume. 

“No one’s there, Evie,” came your reassuring voice, though Matt could hear that your body was still panicked. “You’re safe, I promise. Okay? We’re both safe here.”

Shaking his head, he pulled his senses away from your apartment. That was enough eavesdropping on your place for the night. He had a few ideas about what might’ve been going on with you both now, a sick feeling bubbling in his gut at all of the dark scenarios racing through his mind. He hoped he wasn’t right about any of them, but if he was, he’d now become personally determined to make sure you both remained safe here. Because even though he didn’t actually know either of you, you were a part of Hell's Kitchen–the city he loved deeply. His city. And that was more than enough reason for Matt to find himself suddenly caring about the both of you.

[saintslewis]

❝ 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 - 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒 ❞

pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem!reader

summary: when he comes back from arguably most demanding races of the season, he truly wants to be cuddled up with his girlfriend especially when they haven't seen each other in two weeks.

warnings: established relationship!, mild smut (18+ MDNI), cussing. the usual. typos.

wc: 2.6k

requested: yes | no ~ this lovely request right here!

saint team radio: i wanna scream, this was supposed to be out in SEPTEMBER!!! but now it’s here 🤭. lil one shot before releasing “Break my Soul” and i hope you guys enjoy this one. plus i’m getting used to writing smut now 😧 anyways bye! love ya!

taglist: @non-stop-imagines @lorarri @thisismeracing @httpsserene @mauvecherie-writes @yeea-nah @queenshikongo3 @cherry2stems @planetmimi @alika-4466 @arshiyuh (lmk if you wanna be tagged!)

pls like, comment and reblog! ����🏽 (i’m watching you 🤨)

-

"I know what you are." You gasped as you watched Bella confront Edward in the forest. The morning sun was shining its rays through the large windows and sliding doors of the large house. The couch was slowly sinking you into it, the packet of cookies from your favourite bakery nestled next to your comfortable figure.

Understandably, it was quite early in the morning, 9 am to be precise, to be watching Twilight and munching on cookies but to be fair, Roscoe had woken you up for early morning snuggles. Deciding to check the time on your phone, you became distracted by your wallpaper of Lewis with you next to him with the green mountains of Bali right behind you both, flowers behind your ear to celebrate your birthday.

You truly missed him a lot, these past two weeks felt as if they dragged on and on the longer you waited to see him. Only being able to see him on your phone screen and tv, his fashion becoming a staple for you to follow almost every week. When his face appeared on screen for a post race interview, you would find yourself admiring him and completely closing off to whatever he was saying into the mics. Even seeing his car drive around gave you butterflies, just hearing his name would make you stop in your tracks every single time.

Lewis' face quickly invaded your mind, no longer focusing on the movie before you. Although you had tried to distract yourself with giving yourself tasks to do along with completing some work you probably missed, doing those things were just always better with your boyfriend around. Physically being on each other's space was something you needed desperately, a true connection when realising that you both had the love language of physical touch.

During these two week, you would resist the urge to touch yourself in thought of Lewis, deeming him to be the only one who could find your sweet spots so much better than you could. Embarrassingly enough, you had resorted to watching fan edits of him just for you to feel something. All you did was like a single video on your feed then you fell into the rabbit hole of his fans being extremely talented and feeling the way you felt but you would sleep better knowing that you had him all to yourself at the end of the day.

Snapping you out of your daily daydream about your boyfriend, your phone buzzed with a notification from the front gate of the house to say that a car has entered the driveway and you immediately jumped up in excitement, alerting Roscoe. "Come on boy, Dads is home." You smiled to the energetic dog who was eagerly waiting for you to put your slides on.

Opening the front door wide enough, Roscoe ran right past you to greet Lewis as the man was taking his luggage out of the trunk, giving his affection to his dog before standing up straight (with a bit of caution) to look at you standing just a few feet away. He studied you from head to toe, the Nike pro shorts were barely visible underneath the +44 sweater that you helped design. Your braids were fresh, nails done and from what he saw, a small but new tattoo on your hand and he swore his stomach flipped at the sight of you.

"Hey baby!" You expressed as you threw your arms around his neck, his head buried itself into your neck and your scent filled up his nostrils. "Hi." The tired voice vibrated through your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His large hands were resting on your lower back moving ever so slowly, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. Moving your heads back, you gave him a sweet peck as he looked into your eyes afterwards. Studying his face a little, his eyes were a little droopy and his face wasn't as bright as you saw it on facetime hours ago. Letting go of the hug, you moved to help him with his suitcases but noticed that he seemed to walk a little funny as he walked into the house.

Finding him in the kitchen drinking a glass of water, you chose to lean back into the counter next to him. "Knowing you, I can tell you didn't eat so how about you go shower and i'll make breakfast?"  You suggested and all the man could do was smile and lean in to kiss you, tasting your strawberry chapstick before going upstairs with his hand on his back.

-

A hearty breakfast and him talking about how the race went in terms of strategy then a few discussions of random stuff, you both opted for chilling on the couch to catch up on a bit of TV. Lunch was ordered and you two spent the afternoon just being in each other's presence. You then decided to showcase the clothes you had bought during the two weeks he had been gone, each dress and skirt getting shorter than the last with his exhaustion preventing him from wanting to take you right then and there.

Changing back into the original outfit you had on, he quickly changed into his gym wear to work out in the home gym he had built in before you had moved in. "Will you be okay to workout, Lew?" You asked, filling the glass with small heart shaped ice cubes, ironically matching the tennis bracelet you were wearing. "I'm fine sweetie, I promise." He muttered as his eyes trailed down to your chest, the +44 sweater long gone as the day became hotter. "Eyes up here, babe." You giggled as he didn't even seem to hear you say anything.

"What?" He snapped out of it, making you laugh a little harder. "Go do your workout stuff, you dork. When you come back, we can do some skin care." You smiled as he held your hips with his grip tightened. "I can think of something else-"

"Lewis, I'm gonna bite you. Go." You narrowed your eyes at the man who walked away giggling as if he heard the funniest joke.

Nighttime was slowly approaching and dinner was already prepared, finding pesto really easy to make. Lewis was still in the home gym, your phone buzzing with instagram telling you that he posted on his story. Clicking on it, you saw how your boyfriend took a full body mirror picture with his shirt completely off and he looked a bit breathless. The lights glistened on his abs and tattoos, accentuating his tan even more. The v line was showing as his shorts sat quite low on his waist and you were left speechless, gripping the blanket so much that you could barely feel your hand anymore. Rubbing your thighs together, you tried to relax your thoughts by reminding yourself that he still has what seemed like an injury on his back.

But to be fair, nothing could stop him, not even an injury.

You tried distracting yourself from the instagram story by playing some music and doing some online shopping. Hearing his heavy footsteps enter the room, his sweaty self looked at you with a look you knew all too well but you decided to not do the deed tonight because you thought he needed to be well rested for this.

"You gonna go shower?" You stopped what you were doing and faced him with crossed arm with a little smile on your face. He came a bit closer and you backed up. "Lew, get away. You're sweaty." Your cheeks started to hurt from the smiling and all he did was open his arms as he came closer to you. "Lewis, I'm so serious. Babe wai-" You didn't even finish your sentence before you bolted, heading up to your shared bedroom and he chased after you with both your giggles filling the air.

"Baby, stop moving. I can't put on the under eye mask." You pouted, holding the cold cucumber scented applicator in your hand. "It's just cold." He muttered, holding the back of your legs as you stood between his legs. "C'mon gramps, it'll take like 5 minutes then you'll forget it's there." Knowing how he'd react to the nickname, you received the nastiest side eye you've gotten from him. Doubling down in laughter, you held onto the bathroom sink counter for dear life as you continued to laugh with him.

As the laughter died down, you fixed your braids into a bun and put your hand out for him to give up his hair tie that he has had on the whole day. "I like your earrings, love. When'd you get them?" He asked, now standing behind you as you made eye contact in the mirror. His eyes still had the same look as when he came out of the gym. "Remember that one bracelet you brought back from Milan last month? They opened a store in Central london so I think it was Thursday." You nodded as you told him, removing both your under eye masks to then fully wash and moisturise your faces.

Lewis opted to watch you complete your routine as you did like to take your time with it, the scented candles creating the perfect atmosphere. His left hand came around your waist, his other hand holding onto your hip and his head dropping into your neck with small butterfly-like kisses peppering your skin. You stopped everything you were doing to feel exactly what Lewis was doing to you, his large hands lowering down your body with each kiss.

"Lew, baby. You need to rest." You whispered, unable to speak from his soft kisses. "Missed you so much, just wanna feel you.” He whined into your neck. As he picked up his head to kiss even further, you already turned your head to look at him, your face filled with worry.

“Can you not make that face?” You slightly jutted your lip out, his face sending a completely different message. “Is it working?”

“No.” You tried your best to hide the smile from your face, your boyfriend’s face dropping at the answer. Backing away from his embrace, you walked into the bedroom, fully aware that he was following right after you.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, you watched as Lewis stood in front of you then locked eyes with you. “Love, can I at least eat you out?” His whiny voice sounded out and you were fully taken by surprise. You had yet to experience this side of him in the bedroom but if it meant hearing that voice all over again, you were all in.

Not even waiting for your words, the man dropped down onto his knees, holding your thighs as balance as he maintained the eye contact with you. “Please, please baby. I’ll be so good, I promise. Won’t tease you, I’m starving. Just wanna taste you.” He rambles, his eyes slightly closed as his voice drops the closer his face gets to your thighs.

You couldn’t believe what was actually happening, so much so that it took you a few seconds to even think of a response. His chocolate eyes looked up at you with such anticipation, eagerly waiting for you to say something, anything. All you could do was nod and within seconds, he began kissing up your thighs, silently thanking the universe for bringing the two of you together.

Between her slight panting, you remembered that his back was in pain from earlier in the day, giving you an idea. “Lew.” You called out, his head rising to stare at you once more. “Lie on your back, don’t need you to hurt it more than it already is.” You said, slowly guiding him to stand up with you then push him down onto the bed by his chest. He huffed out a slight chuckle at your eagerness.

Once the clothes were off, you crawled up to straddle him but catching him by surprise, your lower body was closer to his face than he thought. Your legs were on each side of his head, your dripping core was hovering right above his mouth, he could’ve sworn he was in heaven. Gently holding onto his braids, you lowered yourself slightly yet not fully sitting, afraid that he wouldn’t be able to breathe.

“Y/n baby. Sit on my face, please.” Lewis groaned from underneath you, his breath hitting your core making you slightly shiver. His large hands creeped up onto your ass, bringing you down onto his face with a grip. Once you had gotten used to him devouring you like a touch starved man, you eventually found your rhythm and began moving in perfect harmony with his tongue, slightly pulling his braids when you felt the all too familiar knot into your stomach .

Your orgasm ripped through you, your moans bouncing off the walls of your shared bedroom. When wanting to lift yourself off of him, he continued to lick and suck on your sensitive clit, overstimulating you quite a bit. Your moans grew into whimpers and that’s when Lewis knew that you were beginning to feel tired, your body slightly shaking from the intense sensation of your release.

Now having a bit more energy, you actually lifted yourself up from his mouth and wanted to go down on him as you craved to have something that would give him the same sensation that he gave you. Before you could even reach his hard on, he held onto one of your hands. Kissing your palm, he spoke up. “Can you please just fuck me? I need to feel you around me, sweetie.” Lewis asked, the same look from before wooing you so easily.

You continued making your way down on him until he suddenly flipped the both of you. “Lew! Warn a girl next time!” You wanted to roll your eyes at him but he just smiled and leaned down to give you a breathtaking kiss, feeling butterflies in your stomach once more.

“I’ve got you, baby. Just let me make you feel good.” He smirked, holding your legs to go around his waist. Once entering you, it truly felt like this should go on forever, have this night replay in your mind like a broken record. His hips snapping against yours would bring you back to reality, seeing stars once the familiar knot returned to taunt you. With the way he was pounding into you, you would’ve never thought he had back pain the whole time.

You screamed upon your 4th release, your body flopping against the sheets as you tried to catch your breath. Lewis emerged from the bathroom with a warm and slightly wet towel to gently wipe your pussy, you sucked in a breath as your sensitive clit felt the material against you.

Once fully done with aftercare for you and himself, you looked up at the man as you layed on your front to look at him laying next to you. “I truly love you, Y/n. Couldn’t thank the stars enough for you.” He expressed, the look in his eyes sending a deeper message into your soul.

“I love you so much, Lewis.” You responded and you could feel the love radiating off of each other.

This was love and you could forever drown in this feeling with Lewis right by your side.

[theemporium]

🐈‍⬛ w/Norstappen being like :O the first time their witchy s/o does magic in front of them pretty pls 🙏🏻 ?

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

Despite the boys knowing your secret, they had never actually seen you perform any magic.

They had made plenty of jokes in the meantime. It was mostly Lando, but Max had his moments too. They would affectionately call you countless famous witch and wizard names. They would joke about you throwing them in a cauldron if they pissed you off. Countless pictures of brushes and brooms were sent to you on a daily basis. Sometimes they would even joke about the fact Sassy and Jimmy only liked you because of a witch’s connection to cats. 

It was safe to say their knowledge on witchcraft was limited, but despite their jokes and remarks, they did want to learn about it. It was a massive part of your life, of your identity too. They wanted to know every part of you, they wanted to love every part of you—even if the jokes wouldn’t necessarily stop. 

You had been teaching them things in passing, explaining anything when you noticed the way their brows would furrow in confusion. Whether it was when you were making a list of ingredients you needed (“No, Lando, I can’t just buy them from the grocery store.”) or preparing weeks in advance for a certain spell (“Max, baby, I love you but witchcraft isn’t just about shoving things into a bubbling pot.”). 

But they had never actually seen you use magic until that night. 

You had been so caught up in your work that you hadn’t even realised the time until a message pinging from your phone broke you out of your concentration. You swore under your breath, rushing towards the kitchen to get started on dinner in the hopes it wouldn’t be too late. After all, it had been your night to cook.

You hadn’t even heard the boys come in. You were rushing around the kitchen like a madman, pots and pans and ingredients flying around the room. There were pots bubbling on the stove, there was a knife cutting vegetables on a cutting board, there were unused dishes being washed in the sink and at the centre of the chaos stood you, cookbook in one hand whilst the other orchestrated the world around you as you read through the recipe. 

“Holy shit.”

Your head snapped to the side to find both boys standing in the doorway, jaws slack and eyes wide as they watched the scene in front of them with the same level of shock and excitement as kids coming down to presents under the Christmas tree. 

“Hey,” you breathed out and gave them a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, dinner will be ready soon but I got caught up in—”

“You really are like Hermione Granger!” Lando exclaimed, an excited laugh as he stepped into the kitchen, ducking when a carrot whooshed over his head. 

“I—” You blinked, a little taken aback. 

“Do you do this every time?” Max asked as he followed the Brit in, only to pause for a second. “Why have you never done this in front of us before?” 

“Yeah, this is so fucking cool!” Lando grinned, turning to you with a glimmer in his eyes. 

“I…didn’t realise it was something you wanted to see so badly,” you admitted with a small laugh, though something in your chest warmed at how enthusiastic they were about your magic. A small part of you feared they would be scared by it.

“You’re controlling all of this?” Max questioned.

“Every single thing,” you confirmed with a nod.

“How the fuck do you do that?” Lando murmured as his eyes focused on the plates setting themselves on the dining table connected to the kitchen. 

“Practice,” you said with a smile before leaning in to peck his cheek. “I’ll show you more after dinner.”

Lando’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

You nodded. 

“Maybe even pick something in that grimmy thing you have,” Max added, looking a little sheepish about his request even if he tried to sound confident.

“My grimoire, baby,” you corrected with a small laugh.

“Yes, that. Magic cookbook,” he said with a completely serious face. “Show us what our girl can do.”

“Well, right now your girl wants to eat dinner,” you snorted. “But if Lando eats his greens, I’ll show you a few spells after dinner.”

“This is bribery.”

“Lando, I will shove that broccoli down your throat if I have to.”

Lando gaped at the Dutchman before rolling his eyes. “It’s not my first choice but geez, fine.”

.

[aayakashii]

❤️17 fluffy towa please!!

i LOVEE your fics so muchh keep up the good work!! :D

17❤️ An upside-down "Spider-Man" kiss

21❤️ wildcard

This is very short but I hope you guys like it! It's not proof read, so forgive any grammar mistakes ;w;

You braced yourself as you approached the pathway that led straight to your dorm, holding the straps of your backpack tightly. You breathed deeply and steeled your resolve, gathering all the courage you had in you.

That night, you were going to put an end to that. That night, you wouldn’t get spooked. That night, in fact, you planned to act on your revenge plan once and for all.

You would NOT let Towa jump at you from the tree branches and startle you out of your skin like he had been doing for the past week.

It started innocent, it truly did. The first time he just wanted to show you the tree he loved so much – the one with dimming colored lights.

But apparently, your reaction was so interesting, that Towa simply couldn't have enough of it and what was supposed to be one silly little prank, soon became almost a daily routine.

“Boo!” Towa dropped from the tree, legs firmly holding him on the branch as his upper body was upside down and dangling in front of you.

“WAAH!” you jumped in place, almost colliding with his face.

“Hehehe! Dandelion, your reactions are so cute. I love them!” he said, blushing furiously as all the blood from his body went straight to his head while he dangled in front of you like a Christmas tree ornament.

You tried very hard to look him in his eyes instead of the exposed skin of his tummy. He had a mole right next to his belly button and it took all your self-control not to touch it nor pinch that apparently soft skin.

You put a hand over your racing heart and sighed, shutting your eyes tightly.

“Towa! This is the fourth time in, like, seven days! You're gonna give me a heart attack!”

He quickly sat upright on the branch again and leapt down, walking leisurely towards you as if he didn't just show insane core strength and aerobic prowess.

“I can't help it, you're so cute. I like seeing you surprised.”

You pursed your lips in a thin line. There it was. His flirting. You still weren't used to it after all that time.

“Well it's not that fun for me, you know… I get scared.”

Towa pouted, giving you his killer puppy eyes.

“Awww… but I like it.” He shrugged, completely ignoring your complaints, and grabbed your hand. “Now let's go see the tree!”

It was basically a new routine you'd have to be prepared for at that point: Towa would spook you, grab your hand and pull you towards the tree. Then you two would hug it and lay down to watch the stars until he'd begin to fluster you whenever he hovered a little bit too close for comfort from your lips. And your poor heart would beat faster and faster once again.

You just had to give your frazzled nerves a break.

So, you had planned to knock him off his feet and surprise him just as much.

The problem was, you didn't know when he would show up.

Two days had passed since your last spook and you've been bracing yourself ever since. The anticipation was causing you so much anxiety that you feared this would be his biggest fright yet, since you had been on edge all along.

You walked slowly, giving yourself a pep talk in your mind about how he'd be just as surprised (and probably delighted) with your idea as you were spooked every single time he dropped from one of those trees. You also hoped that would give him time to arrive and act on his little prank.

As you kept on walking, you heard leaves shuffling on the tree a few steps in front of you. It was either him or some of the many cats that lived on campus. You crossed your fingers and moved forward, hoping it was him, so you'd be done with your anxiety.

And sure enough, after you took a few steps, a familiar mop of lavender hair dropped down in front of you.

“Boooo!!!”

“GAAAH!!” you yelled, your voice going up pitches you've never reached before.

“Hahaha!! Dandelion! You yelled so loud today! That was so cute!” Towa reached out his arms towards you and placed them on your shoulders as he giggled uncontrollably, closing his eyes and scrunching his nose, finding your distress absolutely hilarious.

You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm your heart down as much as you could, as you stared straight into his eyes.

At your silence, Towa stopped giggling and opened his eyes. He tilted his head once he saw how serious you looked while you quietly observed him.

“Hm? What's wrong, Dandelion? Did you get too scared?”

You exhaled slowly through your mouth and stepped closer, awkwardly placing your hands on his cheeks. He just tilted his head again, to the other side that time, clearly curious about your weird actions.

“What are you doing, Dandelion? Are you still sc–”

You interrupted his question by hastily crashing your lips on his – his upside-down position making for the weirdest kiss you have ever given in your life. You didn't know what to do nor where to move, so you just held his face tenderly and placed your lips against his as comfortably as you could.

Once you broke the kiss, you breathed deeply once again, heart still racing but mildly satisfied to see his mouth agape and eyes wide open.

“N-now I've surprised you too.” you mumbled, furrowing your eyebrows and pouting.

Towa blinked at your words and, in half a second, he had gotten down the tree and stood straight in front of you.

His cheeks were still flushed while a small smile began tugging at the corner of his lips. His hands rested comfortably on your neck and he leaned forward, brushing the tip of his nose against yours.

“Can you do that again, Dandelion?” he whispered, voice full of glee.

You gulped before nodding and placing a small peck on his red lips.

Towa licked his lips, eyes closed as if he was savoring the taste of your mouth on his, and you felt a shiver run down your spine while you observed his actions.

He opened his eyes, iris barely visible around his dilated pupils.

“Again.” he whispered, and you complied, lips resting a little longer on his.

“Again.” and you ran your hands through his hair, bringing him closer.

“Again.” he said, diving back into a kiss before you could even register he had whispered that word once more.

“Again. Again… Again, again, again” he kept on whispering, placing a kiss on your lips for every word he repeated.

You turned into a flustered mess in his hands and your heart drummed loudly while he held you tightly and flush against his body, suffocating you with his kisses.

But, this time, you definitely weren't complaining.

[callsign-muffin]

Heal Together: Chapter 1

(Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw fic)

I've been lurking on here for a while, reading Top Gun fics and I recently got inspired to write one of my own. Hopefully someone reads it and likes it!

Note about the format: Between every header is a change in the point of view :)

Summery: When Rooster was med-evaced back to San Diego from the mission field, the last thing he expected was to wake up with a tube down his throat and the most beautiful woman he's ever seen at his bedside.

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.1k

“Hey Carly, I’m taking over for room 4 today. Are you ready to give report?” You ask the cute blonde night shift nurse, she looked about 12 years old. What in the hell was she doing in the ICU of a military hospital? Hell, you should be asking yourself the same question. You hated it here at this boys club where nurses were ignored as a female dominated profession, despite being the people who spend the most amount of time at the patient’s bedside in a 12 hour stretch. But you were only one week into this eight week travel assignment and the money was great, so you just had to grin and bear it and make as few enemies as possible.

“The census is low, is this gonna be your only patient?” She asked.

“Yeah.” You pulled out your report sheet and pen, “Let’s hope it stays that way.”

You could tell Carly was fresh off of orientation by how nervous she looked before beginning to speak.

“Hey,” You placed a comforting hand on her knee, “take your time, tell me what you know, and if I have any questions I’ll ask them when you’re done. You just finished a long shift, it’s okay to be a little out of it. We’ll get all the info we need together. No pressure, okay?”

“Okay,” Carly nodded and took a deep breath, “This is Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, 35 year old male, full code, no known allergies…”

You quietly took down the pertinent information about Lt. Bradshaw as Carly spoke. He was a pilot, recovered after a crash, and was stitched back together pretty well on the aircraft carrier, he went septic and was transported back to the states to your hospital. Pretty standard stuff. He was currently on a ventilator for breathing support but all seemed to be going in a positive direction despite the shitty circumstances.

Carly finished her report with a sigh of relief, you had a feeling the staff nurses weren’t as respectful when receiving report from a new graduate. “Any questions?”

“Any family  at the bedside?” You asked.

“No, no family. Apparently a guy named Pete Mitchell calls daily for updates, they’re not related but he’s included on the patient’s medical information release forms, so we can talk to him. Chart says he’s single, no siblings, and both parents have passed away.” Carly yawned, she was beginning to fade after a long night. You didn’t want to hold her up anymore than necessary, she needed to get home and go to bed.

“Okay,” You clicked your pen, “Sounds good. Let’s go check lines and meds so you can get out of here.”

She paused for a second as you got up from your chair at the nurses station, “Y/N… thank you for being so nice… I’m only a week off of orientation and things are still so new…”

You smiled at the compliment, “We’ve all been there. Every nurse on this unit was new at one point and I think sometimes they forget that. Hell, I’m a traveler and this is only my second week and there’s so much that’s new to me too. You’re doing great.”

You spent the first part of your morning before rounds with the care team just cleaning up the patient, organizing the room, all that good stuff. Though it wasn’t necessarily considered “professional”, you played some music softly from your phone as you worked. You found that music or just talking to patients on vents helped with agitation. You couldn’t imagine anything more tortuous than listening to repetitive beeping and alarms all day long and nothing else. Though most managers didn’t like it, that didn’t stop you. What were they gonna do? Fire you? Hospitals hire travelers at such a high price point when they’re understaffed and desperate. They needed you more than you needed them.

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

“When the sun goes down, we’ll be groovin’

When the sun goes down, we’ll feel alright

When the sun sinks down over the water

Everything is hotter when the sun goes down…”

Who the fuck listens to Kenny Chesney anymore? Rooster thought to himself.

He knew he was sick, the docs on the ship told him that before they knocked him out to shove the tube down his throat. They told him he’d be med-evaced back to San Diego because the hospital where he was overseas didn’t have the capabilities to take care of someone as sick as him. He didn’t know how long he had been there, all the days run together when you’re too weak to open your eyes. He was used to having things done to him, he was past the point of getting agitated about it, because he knew they’d just sedate him more.

“Alright, Bradshaw.” A confident voice said, “All of your lines are untangled, your room is clean, and your initial assessment is done… How about we have a little spa day? You’re smellin’ a little… ripe.”

RUDE! 

“HA! You can hear me! You raised your eyebrows!” She giggled, damn it was a cute giggle. Rooster honestly hadn’t realized he was moving his face. But he believed her because that’s what his face usually does when he’s surprised. “You’ve been caught. No more playing dumb.”

Water started running, splashing, and the suction was turned on… that sound usually meant his mouth was gonna get cleaned and he was gonna feel something funny down his throat. He hated it.

“Carly told me you were getting agitated during mouth care last night. Since you can hear me, I’m going to tell you everything I’m doing, so don’t get sassy with me.” She said, “Deal?”

Anything for the first person not to treat me like a damn vegetable. This was the first time someone actually talked to him and told him what the fuck was happening since he got here. It was a welcome change.

The kind yet sassy voice interrupted his thoughts, “Okay, mouth care. I’ll be quick, I promise.”

She didn’t lie to him, she was quick and the stupid suction caused him minimal discomfort. Maybe it was because he could brace himself, or maybe it was because she was just really good at her job.

“I’m about to give you a full body bath, so how about we get to know each other a little bit.” She said as she adjusted his sheets and pillows to reposition him, placing a towel under his head, and rinsing his hair with warm water.

Rooster’s whole body relaxed.

“My name is Y/N Y/L/N and I’m obviously your nurse today and will probably be for the next few days…” Nurse Y/N went on about where she’s from, her hobbies, how she’s not making many friends in this new hospital she’s been contracted out to.

Welcome to the military, it’s a boy’s club. He wished he could say that to her. He imagined medicine was similar to aviation, full of egos.

Before Rooster knew it, his whole body had been washed from head to toe. He hadn’t felt this clean in what felt like years.

“So Lieutenant… not to be crude but… I gotta clean your bits. But at least we’ve really gotten to know each other.” Nurse Y/N said, “Your girlfriend will thank me later.”

Ha! Rooster laughed to himself, What girlfriend?! My dick hasn’t been played with in months!

Like with the mouth care, her cleaning was quick and respectful. And damn, being clean felt so good. She went on to change his gown, sheets, and blankets. Rooster truly felt like a new man.

“Lieutenant Bradshaw, you’ve never looked better.” She said with a satisfied sigh.

That’s a damn lie, but I’ll take the compliments wherever I can get them at this point.

“Hey Y/N,” Another female voice said, “They’re starting with you for rounds. Are you ready to present your patient or should I stall?”

“Nah, I’m ready. Tell them to come in whenever.” Nurse Y/N said, then her voice got low and she whispered to Bradley, “I’m gonna try to get them to lighten your sedation and move towards trials of turning the ventilator off. It’s not gonna be comfortable but the sooner we start working towards getting that tube out of your throat, the sooner you can get the hell out of here.”

Rooster wanted to make sure she knew he heard her and that he was on board, it took every ounce of strength in his body, but he nodded.

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

“No way.” The resident physician said simply after you gave your recommendation with your presentation of Lt. Bradshaw

You were dumbfounded. What the hell did he mean no?!, “This patient was more than ready to move towards extubation.” 

“And what makes you the expert?” the resident asked.

Oh lord, this fresh out of med school asshole was turning rounds into a dick measuring contest.

“The fact that I’ve been at his bedside for the past three and a half hours, I assessed him, bathed him, turned him, and he is showing signs of progress. The next step is spontaneous breathing trials and extubation. The longer he stays on the vent, the more likely he is to get pneumonia, as we all should know, Doctor.” You explained coolly but made sure to add his (probably newly earned) title. 

“I agree with…” The attending looked at you and scanned your badge, “... Y/N… What do you think from a Respiratory Therapy standpoint, Brent?” He looked over at Brent, the RT.

Brent smirked and narrowed his eyes at the resident, “I also think moving towards extubation is a good thing. If he has two successful trials, he could be off the vent by the end of the day.”

The attending physician nodded, “Then it’s a plan. And I think this is a really good lesson for the residents and medical students with us on rounds, the nurses know more about the patient than we do. We should always consider their recommendations because they have the most valuable view on the patient, simply because they spend time with them.”

You tried to dim the glow that was on your face.

 “Thanks, Dr…” You scanned the attending’s badge the same way he did yours.

“Carter, Brendan Carter.” He extended his hand and you shook it, “Glad to have you here.”

That was the most welcome anyone had made you feel in the last week here. Who would’ve thought a wrinkly old attending doctor with dancing eyes would be the person to stand up for you and make you feel secure in your clinical decision making.

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

Rooster wasn’t sure how much time had gone by since Nurse Y/N told him she was turning down his sedatives but it felt like he could open his eyes almost instantly. It was so… bright. Once his eyes adjusted, he scanned his surroundings, the lights weren’t even on but the sun shining through the large window felt blinding. He looked to his left and saw the machine that the tube in his throat was attached to, the machine that had kept him alive for God knows how long. He looked to his right and saw multiple IV poles that attached him to lines and lines of medicine and fluid. Further to his right, he saw a woman standing at a computer, typing away furiously, her face was serious yet beautiful, was that Nurse Y/N?

“Good morning, Lt. Bradshaw.” She said quietly, “You’re still attached to your breathing tube, so you can’t talk. Now that you’re awake we’re one step closer to getting you off that thing. Sound good?”

Rooster nodded slowly, wishing he could thank her for everything. For talking to him, bathing him, treating him like a human-being.

“Do you feel strong enough to write?” She asked, “Can I get you a whiteboard?”

He nodded again.

“I’ll be right back.” She swiftly left the room. 

Rooster couldn’t help but love watching her walk away. Along with a beautiful face, he could tell she had a great body hiding underneath those scrubs. It had been so long since he’d seen a pretty girl.

She returned quickly with a whiteboard and a marker, handing it to him, “What’s on your mind Lieutenant?”

Call me Bradley. He scribbled, 

“Nice to meet you Bradley.” She smiled down at him, “How are ya feelin’?”

Better now that I’m clean and awake. He wrote.

“There’s something healing about a bath and being taken out of your drug induced sleep, huh?” She giggled.

Rooster nodded and started writing again, Thank you for everything.

“No biggie. I’m glad to see you doing so well. Is it okay if I do a full assessment on you, just since you’re awake now?” She asked.

He nodded, this girl could do anything she wanted to him. She was basically his angel.

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

63 - Laws of Gods and Men

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 16.4k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, past character deaths, child harm/abuse, descriptions of gore and violence, past traumas

Notes: Next week either you can have the Jon flashback chapter, or modern!au part 4, so let me know if you have a preference which comes first. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

“Lord Petyr Baelish, step forward.”

The silence through the hall felt staggering. Not even whispers were given thought as men and women alike only stared at the man in question with a narrowed glare matching nearly to every one of them. As if only then as Jon spoke, did Littlefinger realize the degree of guard surrounding the court. Up at the main table behind where you sat with Benjen beside you, was five members of what had become known as the Queen’s personal guard, all fully equipped with weaponry and behind you specifically was Theon, fully armoured. Behind Jon and downward to Sansa, Arya, and then Bran as Meera stood just off to the side away from main view but enough she could get to him if need be, did equally as armoured and ready members of the Stark household guard also remain firmly present. One of the same household guard seemed to be stood at the walls adjacent of each end of the table and more were placed throughout the room both behind the crowd and in front of it.

If somehow even more intimidating, when normally the witnesses of the smallfolk of Winter Town normally come stand and watch the proceedings of the Northern Court at the helm of their new King, were instead, men and women all dressed in only one way to interpret. Where the common people normally stood to watch, instead all around were the arrivals whom could be found in and around Winterfell or by Tormunds side. The Free Folk most involved in their new affiliation with the Northern people on a daily basis, stood as their own witness as well, if not to present a unity against what was to come.

Were you to wager, you would put gold that the front of Starks before him were all matching in their stern solidarity to the degree he did not expect. He always assumed he was the smartest man in the room, but his advantages were running thinner and thinner as the world around him seemed to twist and turn into something entirely beyond any one persons control. Things all bearing down on the real which one singular man could not always manipulate to his benefit, but it would not be an easy task to change that, nor reveal to the man himself that his house of cards had begun to fall without his knowledge.

Yet the look in his eye as he spoke presented that of a man whom begun to put the pieces together that he had walked into something he knew nothing of. “May I inquire your Grace, what this is about?”

Jon looked at him with eyes dark and yet a steady calm in his voice as it projected with unquestionable authority throughout the room. “Lord Baelish, you’ve been involved with my family for many years. Through my blood in the Starks, of my brothers and sisters to House Tully, and to my wife’s b birth, House Baratheon. Most recently, you were the reason my sister Sansa could be returned home to Winterfell safely, and for that I thank you.”

“It was my honour truly-”

Cutting him off, there was but a flash in the mans eyes which could clearly be read as something almost in an anger at being interrupted, yet blind sighted to the words coming from Jon as he continued. “But that’s not all you’ve done. And it’s those reasons you’ve been summoned to court. To answer for your crimes.” The silence in the room, one could hear near anything had a single person broke that stern quiet. In a steady tone, Littlefinger asked what crimes it was he was here to supposedly answer for, but the moment your name, in it’s entirety came out did the realization in him grow. “To answer for the crime of conspiring to murder the Queen in the North.”

He said nothing, which was smart. His eyes flickered to you, but you did not blink, breathe nor move one single bit. Biting down on your tongue as if to not even allow a twitch of your muscles peek through, he read nothing from you which gave away the nerves flowing through you. You didn’t wish for this to have come around to you, but you could not change that and you would stay at Jons side no matter how much you wished the eyes around looked anywhere else.

You had not often seen a trial within your time in Kings Landing, but in contrast, this looked far different. Taking place in the throne room, so always something grand and decorated with light shining through the windows would peek through. Two sides of seating built up like the stands of a crowd for a tourney, and in the middle of the space up by the steps was the podium. One could sit or stand, but chains were placed on their wrists attaching them to the spot. Robert would sit as judge in one seat, and one on either side always consisting of the same judges. His Hand of the King Jon Arryn on his right, and his brother, Stannis on the other. Any relevant parties to the matter would always sit off to either side of them as well, creating a sense of organization and almost ease in the way the room looked and sat.

This was not the same. He stood freely without chains in the middle of the clearing as the Northerners around sat and stood and watched with guards posted to keep him from acting out any. Not just a King and two judges, but the family remaining to Jon sat at either of his side as a symbol of a strength, or a unity not seen much in the capitol. The darker walls of Winterfell as snow and clouds surrounded made the sunlight dripping in more doused in a blueish tone, almost imposing in contrast to the brightness of the Red Keep.

Addressing both the man and room, Jon laid out the details of the charge before any questions could even be asked as if the story was brand new to him. You forced your eyes forward without room to see the nerves behind as Jon again brought up your name. “Some months ago, while attending to personal matters in Barrowton, she was kidnapped and put up in a trail of outlaws against impossible charges she had no way to defend herself against. This was part of an elaborate plan meant to result in her being found guilty, and executed by these outlaws. You’ve been brought here today, Lord Baelish, to answer to the accusation that this was an attempt to assassinate the Queen in the North, created and planned by you.”

Littlefinger looked to you, peeling them back to Jon as if he could again use that lightness in his voice as a shield where one no longer existed. “I was in the Vale for many years, your Grace. And in Kings Landing for much longer before that. How could I be responsible for an attempted murder thousands of miles away?”

“That’s what we’re here to find out, my Lord.”

A smaller stand just off to the side door by the top of the hall was the only new addition. Positioned to be seen and heard by judge, accused, and witnesses alike. Being told he would be given the chance to speak, you knew out bursting was not going to be what he did. Littlefinger wasn’t so stupid to say anything at anytime and you knew he would save it all for the worst moment. Your eyes did catch however, the glance to where your mother sat with Gendry enough to the side and back that it appeared as if they were just part of the watching crowd. The moment his eyes went from Gendry, back up to you did your breathing hitch in your chest, but you refused to allow it to exhale with any shake. Sensing Arya’s watchful gaze taking in the entire scene, you dared not think what she would feel when realizing how long you hid it from her, but it would come out eventually.

Jon was smart though, where he started off. The crime to be slowly connected and revealed through almost a recounting of events until it built and built, the first to speak was, to Littlefinger no doubt, one he saw no reason to put any fear into having him speak. Seldom would such a thought occur to you, but you could not find reason to dismiss it once it found its way into your head. More on the quiet side compared to men of the North, and more well spoken but also in a kinder way he appeared without any threat, and his size would be scrutinized by those whom cared.

Littlefinger was a man whose work was deeply rooted in how things and people looked around him, so of course you saw not a scrap of worry as the first entered the hall. Asking him to state his name, you also knew Jons time as Lord Commander likely long since prepared him for this side of the man as good as his brother, turned King. “Samwell Tarly.”

Jon asked with an even tone, if he was there the night of your kidnapping, and thus Sam was let loose with Jons full trust to say what needed to be said and nothing more. It was not a coincidence that Jon had chosen Sam to relay the events start to finish, rather then Gendry. Keep him out of the focus of attention, and giving a well spoken highborn within the Nights Watch the chance to establish a trusting basis. “I was, your grace. I had met her earlier in the day before it all happened.”

Explaining the simple facts of the story, you knew you gave nothing away to him that he could read but you felt Sam just barley meeting your eyes as he talked around the details regarding the lies and mess your presence caused right away, a smoothness which none else would pick up on whom was not there to witness the hostility. Jon took advantage of the lull in Sams recounting of meeting you, knowing to establish Sams credibility, though to Sams amusement not that you nor Jon picked up on, was he asked it the same way you asked him. “What would a man of the Nights Watch be doing in Barrowton?”

Sam sensed it likely, his attention more towards the room away from Jon knowing both were aware of such details already. “Before being crowned King in the North, I first knew Jon Snow in the Nights Watch. He had been elected Lord Commander, after avenging the mutiny and murder of Lord Commander Jeor Mormont.” Your eyes flickered to spot not just Maege you realized, but two familiar figures watching as well. One a mirror of her mother, and the other still just as small but just as feirce as her older sister and mother beside her. Clever too you thought, appeal even moreso your side to the North. “And after leading the Nights Watch through the night Mance Rayder attacked Castle Black with an army of wildlings.”

Again your eyes flickered, that time to the other side of the room. A situation you felt you knew nothing about, battle in and of itself fought and won by Jon and somewhere in there your father had a place. The event which led to the only reason any true salvation of your relationship with your father was made, the strange yet respecting dynamic between Stannis and Jon. Looking at the wild yet harsh gaze of Tormund, you could only wonder the life lived leaving to being on separate sides of a violent battle to being as close friends as could be, between he and Jon.

Sam continued regardless. “Our Maester had fallen ill sometime after that, and I was sent with him to the Citadel in Oldtown to both possibly begin studies to return as a replacement for Maester Aemon, and to see if I could find any helpful information on the Others and the Long Night.” The crowd was silent and serious while Littlefinger raised an eyebrow as if thinking he was surrounded by fools. “It was when I had discovered information I thought Jon should know when I learned he had become King. So I made my way into the North through Barrowton to make my way to Winterfell, when I had met the Queen. Who was there on personal business.”

Your eyes found Littlefingers as Sam continued, the details of what happened, the fires, the fight, the confrontation as you both stared at one another. He knew. He had to of always known. The way he almost raised one eyebrow in knowing, saying what was going wholey unsaid. Your eyes dared not leave his and risk flickering to Gendry, it would give it away, it would give him more fuel to add to his fire building to burn you with. You were well aware, you were not exactly a person whom lended themselves to being painted in the best of lights at times.

“She didn’t have a chance. They threw accusation after accusation that only made her look like a traitor to the memory of her late husband. They blamed her, saying she had conspired to take the King in the Norths crown from it’s rightful heir, and give it to a bastard with no claim but it was only her word against theirs. They had a story in their minds they thought was true, and there was nowhere it could go but finding her guilty.”

You hated thinking of it, the thought of it all. How much that falsehood of a creature wanted you to pay for what her demonic, twisted memories of Catelyn Stark claimed against you. It had never been about rights or crowns, it had all been a ruse to punish you for the son that never came back. It had all been to make you pay for her hatred of Jon, with your life. And worse too, you had been willing to do so then and you still would now. This plan against you alone still managed to taunt Jon with the things he grew up knowing he would never have nor be. Every freedom granted to him now, was still always being painted against him for being a bastard. It still refused to go away, even now.

“How do you know the accused?”

In truth, you were not even sure you had once appeared as if you moved in the slightest. Hidden more by the table before you, your hands were all but begging to dig into your palms. Instead tightening in the fabric of your dress almost as it to tear a whole into it just to alleviate some of this feeling. You knew why this all had to be dragged back out once more, but that did not change the fact that you hated it was about you.

Speaking with more of a passiveness you were used to from the man, it had struck you the thought if being sober made Thoros of Myr more or less insufferable. But too you sat there, thinking strikingly of what he had said. That there were no words in any language to describe the feeling existing within both of you wit what you had been able to do, and it made you somehow more uncomfortable. How much worse did you come off as you wondered, if not sober did this appear to be the form of most tolerable he could be. “He was on the small council of King Robert, I was a member of his court. Our paths crossed from time to time.”

You dared not ask yourself to which degree brothels were included in such endeavours. Beside you, Jon had not even the slightest bit of inclination towards that question appearing in his own head as he indicated to you. “How did you go from part of the Kings court to the Brotherhood Without Banners, involved in her kidnapping?”

Thoros at the least, was an honest man to an insufferable fault. Telling the same story Beric Dondarrion had told Jon, but without the ghastly slight of a man littered all over with memories of previous deaths to distract. Ned Stark, the Mountain, the Riverlands, all circling around to fighting supposedly for the people as part of you felt the bite to point out the people, the common people they claimed to fight for were included in those that night they lured you out. But what was worse, was her. The talk of whom had led them to the North and in your direction.

The memory of a woman whom died a mother to you, but whose pale eyes stared down into yours and hissed with a vitriol that she wished she had never preyed Jon survived the pox as an infant. That she wishes Robbs son had been cut out of you before you died with him, because wouldn’t that be so much easier. A living son and heir, and this fight of whom claims for what would never exist and yet you dared not trace where under your layers, a scar told the story of an unborn son whom did not survive.

A dark, growing weight in your stomach rising up your chest. The pressure placed on your lings acting as something to suffocate as the thoughts increased, as did the force within you to tell such memories to stay away. Worse still, the three Starks beside Jon having to hear of the memory of their own mother torn to shreds in an impossible magic which made her monstrous. The worst which you could imagine they would think of her final fate and yet there was no hiding from that truth.

That hateful thing walking in her visage was a lie you and her children would remember as her final part of your lives, but at least for them, their final memory of their mother wasn’t drenched in horror. They mother they parted from was alive, and loving. The one you parted from had her throat slit after watching all she had left, lay dead on the ground before her, and the anguish of that night, or the demon whom came for you, were your only options.

Lady Stoneheart was all that remained to Catelyn Stark and yet you knew hearing of her was a better final image then the true one you shared not with people. You hardly remembered a thing, you could hear voices and cries and blurs of Robb by you but nothing a memory that had any weight. But Thoros of Myr stood there recounting it all.

That time you dared not look at Littlefinger, what he felt about her you did not care. He had not the right to care, not now, not after what would happen here.

Jons voice almost startled you back into the present, your mind having drifted so far you could’ve forgotten you sat in that hall. “How did you know all this?”

He need not point the finger, more would come. Jon wanted his basis covered, no stone left unturned, as he let the vauge answer be unchallenged as it truly was honest. “I have no idea. We were told what we were told, that she got her information from someone close to her. Who that was, we didn’t know and she wasn’t a woman who gave us much room to question that. But one thing was clear, it wasn’t yourself her mind was really set on.” Commenting with a confidence that it was indeed, a violent inclination towards you, you again said nothing, nor moved. You had been a statue for this entire trial thus far, and you had not a clue when anything else would return.

You just wished for this part to be all over, you didn’t want to sit there and let Jon find justice for you, it didn’t matter. What happened then did not matter compared to the things Jon was fighting now, you knew dealing with Littlefinger had to be done, but you hated his best way was to go through you first. You wanted to leave everything of those nights, the memories they caused, the images and sounds they conjured back up, you wanted all of those to go away forever. To be picked up by the cold winds and blown so far from reach never to be seen again.

Jon had never forgotten nor forgiven almost losing you in those nights, considering how you both had found yourself parting ways, but you hated it. You wanted him to care more about things that weren’t you, but with the advantage of knowing saying it to him as such would not go over well. So you stayed still as a statue, and as silent. This was his Kingdom, he could handle attacks on those within his Kingdom as he saw fit.

The slime dripping from his voice, as Littlefinger had the audacity to speak up. “Your Grace, if I may ask the witness one question?” Formal and polite, he played it well, thus Jon gave only one rigid nod with darker watchful eyes drift from him, right over to you before jumping to Thoros. “Was this leader of yours after her death, or simply justice in whatever form that would’ve come in?”

You felt Thoros looking to you, but your eyes casted downward to the nothing of the table before you. What truly was even left of your life you ever wanted to revisit? How little of who you were wasn’t painted over by something you still felt a heavy guilt for? How much of your failures since being with him again, did Jon have to take care of in the aftermath?

Smooth was the way it was answered though, eyes flickering towards you again as Thoros spoke. “We were after justice, but in the eyes of the Lord of Light, there is no punishment for the guilty but death. In our eyes there is no half way. If half an onion is black with rot, then it’s a rotten onion. A man is good, or he is evil.”

Hours ticked by in your mind, in place of the minutes it truly was. You had the final nail to hammer in for what this was leading up to, but you wished you could disappear until needed and let it play out without you bearing witness to defending your honour. Perhaps you could’ve been up where you had Gilly watch the baby. Sam had grown to a boy of three and much more he was learning to talk, you could help her with him, see how well she’s done with reading on her own. You could simply hold little Eddard in your arms as he slept and focus away from what was too much about you.

You wished there was another way to seek out your defence then this, you wished there was anything else as strong that had nothing to do with you.

He hadn’t seen it coming, the things to come as the next witness was called. So far up North Littlefinger likely assumed Jons reach was limited, he assumed what information Jon had was based on what he only could guess on his own. He very distinctly, had not guessed the sheer idea that not only would he be betrayed by the people he manipulated around him, but that he had not seen coming that those he simply looked down on as lesser then could ever see through the facade he put up for himself.

Thin cloak and tunic both matching, the colours stood out more then most would have been seen wearing in this area. The fabric, the designs all looking like one whom would stand most days in the sun high in the sky rather then any style of dress and colour looking to keep what little warmth existed, tight against their person. The clasp holding together their cloak being worn like robes was in the shape of a shield. Bronze in colour and black iron studs sitting within the middle. Were one to look closer, the markings surrounding the edges could be seen in the shape of runes.

Yet what stood out most was not the man himself, but the hardly concealed look crawling upon Littlefingers face as he approached the stand. As all were within formalities, he was asked to state his name. “Ser Yohn Royce of the Vale, Lord of Runestone.”

They acted with nothing but stern formality, as if this winding mystery had not started with him. Jon asking with his head gesturing somewhat towards the middle of the hall. “Do you know this man?”

The look shared between Ser Royce and Littlefinger was what you could call unique. A knowing on one yet the confusion of the other, the situations had flipped and the confused was now with no understanding when he once thought he surely held all of the cards. But Ser Royce did not linger, losing back towards Jon. “I do. Lord Petyr Baelish, widower of the late Lysa Arryn.”

Jons face remained neutral, nothing smug or condescending or even holding a single hint that Jon knew far more about what he was to say then any other. “And what do you know of his crimes?”

If you were to glance beyond Jons person to Sansa, you would’ve seen her blue eyes unblinking as she stared at him. Her final parting times from the man she had still been masquerading as Alyane Stone and was told to see him as little more then a useful fool to hide her away in the Vale once she let the truth be known. In what had been told of her the eve before, the details of how Jon came to any of these conclusions were not explained.

He rightfully knew, letting her sit in on this trial, learning most of the how and what for herself would be good enough to allow her the freedom to choose what to believe. And as Ser Royce spoke, you and Jon both knew that this was not nearly the worst of the truth. “I cannot speak in absolutes of his guilt, but I can relay the details of what’s led me to my suspicions.”

It was interesting as he spoke, at least to you. The simple fact that he had not given the identity of the confidant whose raven accidentally was brought to him and not Littlefinger. You wondered why not, if he was here to give the details of what he found, why not speak it. Why keep it in the shadows, and the moment your eyes flickered to Littlefinger, it seemed he sensed the same thing.

Ser Royce was nothing if not a well spoken man, a bit on the blunt side at times but never rude nor abrasive over the subjects. A squire gave him a raven meant for Lord Baelish, with the speakings of rumours far North written as the whispering of a spy. Speaking that Jon had married you the night returning from Dragonstone, and that there had been no time for interference on that matter. That Littlefinger seemed to hold an interest in the King and Queen in the North yes, but more specifically, the interest was held greatly in discussing you but he at the time did not know why.

Seeking more information, he had uncovered a great deal of twisting and turnings of people within the North and Winterfell which were all connected to this web of spies tying back to Littlefinger, and much of it, was about you. What you did, where you were, who you spoke to, but that it did not last long. Soon after that was he looked into what he had stumbled across, had Littlefinger left ever so briefly on what he called business matters.

It needn’t be said that the timeline already the North both knew and had been established here today, that the time Littlefinger had briefly left the Vale did it soon align up with the incident in Barrowton. Sansa’s eyes caught Littlefinger, whom failed at any imploring looks to get her to have faith. Her eyes flickered from himself, over to your still yet watchful eyes on Ser Royce, did more of something angering and unsettled filter within her blood.

Turning now more towards the crowd before him, did the story shift slightly, shifting into territory that Jon knew, Littlefinger wished for him to think was his only conclusion for this trial. “After that, I had begun correspondence with the King in the North as to attempt to uncover this suspicious plot surrounding Lord Baelish.”

Speaking up suddenly, Arya had asked the pressing question which she knew the crowd would wonder themselves. To Jon and Sansa both that answer was easy, but you knew he was quick enough to sense not everyone could make that connection right on their own. “Why? You didn’t know him at all, or his wife. Why risk helping him?”

Ser Royce kept eye contact with her, and almost a flicker of familiarity came across his face of memories long since passed. “I knew your father, Lord Eddard Stark. He was sent to the Vale as a young lad to serve as a ward to the late Jon Arryn, along with Robert Baratheon. Half of his life they were raised within the walls of the Eyrie, and I watched both grow from boys before going off to live their lives as men. Now both are gone, and what sort of man would I be if I didn’t do whatever I could do help those they left behind.”

All three of you he looked towards, yourself, Jon and Sansa but said little on the matter of specifics. It spoke for itself, at least the general idea of it spoke for itself. Those details, like much in this trial, Jon knew not to throw out all at once and overwhelm with too much. Too much he had said the night before to you, meant that he could only defend himself against so much at once and lies or not, Littlefinger had every right to defend against what he was accused of.

“There was little reason the King could find on his own for why such events in Barrowton would have occurred, but little I could do from so far while on my own. All we could know for sure, was that Lord Baelish found interest in any instability to be found and exploited between the King and Queen.” Looking with a distaste seen only within the shining of his eyes did Lord Royce state almost to the man directly. “His interest in her specifically, seemed to be only matched by his interest in Lady Sansa.”

Whispers spoke through out without any doubt that time, and the peeling of eyes from Ser Royce to Sansa herself finally settled on Jon, but found something only giving the man unease. A darker look sat in Jons eyes as his face was both seething yet appearing as calm as he could be. As your eyes drifted enough to catch Sansa’s, you recognized the look. A shame not hers yet with nowhere to go but feel as if she was responsible for a grown mans ill desires. But he was not done, and the guilt she felt you realized would only be matched once more by the implication about to be relayed.

“I only have my word of what I speak of his character, and yet I strongly believe there is reason to not doubt his intentions are not honourable.”

You had last seen him a small boy in Kings Landing. Always kept by the close watch of Lysa and an uncanny lack of independence for even a boy of eight. She sheltered Robin from the world, and thus he held no idea how to behave in the real one. His septa must have had been blessed with the power of patience to handle him as much as she did with not a hint of fuss.

But he was a troubled boy. Ill and sickly but always with tantrums and outbursts. Not a clue how to behave and Lysa only seemed to make it worse. There had been days you would walk into the small council chambers to see Lord Arryn there exceptionally early and you could hardly blame him. Sometimes if one wandered close to the tower of the Hand, Robins yelling could be heard and Lysa would do nothing to make him stop. Working in such an environment must have been grating on the poor man.

Some days you would assist in his work, just to give him company that did not shout or cry insistently throughout the day. But this, was something not even your most frustrated thoughts on the petulant boy had come close to. “Lord Baelish had begun giving the boy sweetmilk to sleep. Every night given to him to calm his outbursts, but when the Maester had brought it up to me he seemed concerned. Telling me that when he had questioned Lord Baelish on the matter, he had begun sending another to request it for him, as if to avoid what he was not willing to answer.”

Before anything could be said, Jon had looked to the crowd with much more distinct of a distrust on his face to what he seemed to understand was coming. “Maester Wolkan, do you know why this would be concerning?”

The answer was unsettled to most in the room, despite how little Littlefinger reacted in anyway with dark eyes now looking up towards Jon, whom only stared back with something hardly one could lie and say was not a glare as Wolkan spoke. “Adding drops of sweetwine to milk can replicate the effects of essence of nightshade, help soothe the nerves and give the drinker an easy dreamless sleep. But adding too much of it, or using it everyday over time will cause it to build up in a mans blood. Act almost as a poison, giving the user a very slow death which to many, would appear as a natural illness.”

You knew what such a thing implied, but part of you desperately did not wish too. Someone who could look at a child and only see it as something in their way, as something to be disposed of once it was an inconvenience to their plans. Desperate you suddenly felt as it flipped in your stomach, to stay seated and remain at Jons side.

Growing however was something boiling up inside of you, as if the simple fact that he was not within your sights worried you. As if Littlefingers presence within Winterfell, knowing what he wanted and would try to do to get what he wants, you felt what you refused to yet acknowledge was panic. He was fine, you had seen him not long ago and he was fine. But wouldn’t it be easier of course to get rid of you, if you didn’t have a son any longer to fight for-

Your heart almost stopped and started as fast as it pounded now. Hands tensed further and further without your notice did your nails dig enough into their wrappings that the fabric begun to slowly seep into a red covering the usual white tints. It was harder afterall to separate a man and wife when they had a child between them. But you sat, ignoring the ever so brief look of Jon towards you with a narrowing expression of worry towards your unusually stiff demeanour.

But the thoughts refused to go away, you couldn’t even hear what was being said in the court. What if it was you it was being given too, and your son fed from you and- your blink nearly allowed the tears you didn’t notice were forming to come out. Watering behind your eyes that few could see from where you sat. As soon as the words passed through your mind you felt that guilt as if you did it yourself. If something happened to the baby, that Jon would blame you.

Robin would be thirteen by now, only a year younger then-

“They were boys.”

No one but you could hear, the echo of Robbs voice through the halls in Riverrun as Willem and Martyn Lannister were laid out on a sheet before you both in the middle of the night. It did not matter what age or innocence those boys held, men with enough hate or evil in their hearts would be willing to do anything to those whom they could not see as worthy of their life.

The bright green eyes your son held, the same green eyes that were seen the day you finally met your baby sister, the same which looked up to you with a little smile held by a young girl whom did not understand her baby girl would never get the life she dreamed for her. The girl whom stood there watching the gold cloaks murder that little baby right in the middle of-

It was nothing proper of you, but you could not care to think how it looked as whispers were spoken amongst the crowd the second you pushed from your seat. The guard by the door into the corridor opening and closed it swiftly without any fuss as the halls remained rather empty, those whom could spare their work to watch the spectacle did so.

But one way, then another, then the steps and up through the door almost throwing it open before you realized your lungs ached as they heaved for air. Gillys head shot up in a startle along with little Sam in her lap, your naming coming from her in a breathless worry, “Is everything alright?”

You didn’t answer, your eyes found the little bassinet closer to the fire and dropped to you knees to seek out his level sat down on the chair. Eyes not yet open but a slumbering face now twisting as he slowly woke up with a grumble and small hints of cries for someone having done so. One hand reaching up to run over his head with a gentle shush, he seemed to recognize your voice but the upset cries still creeped out. As soon as his little arms fought from his swaddle out to you did you gently pick him up, moving to stand as you held him close against you.

Turning to press your lips to the top of his head with soothing words meaning very little as you eased him from being upset into recognizing it was only you, and everything was alright. Only then, did you notice your surroundings, everything was alright. He moved to hide in your neck with a now muffled cry in distress as he no doubt had picked up on yours. But he was alright, nothing looked wrong nothing was wrong but yet you stood with your head dizzy at the whirlwind around you.

Gilly had gently put little Sam down, telling him to go play as she slowly approached you from behind, your name coming from her quiet tone, but your eyes closed you had not the energy yet willing to acknowledge any that was not him. The noise in your head too loud, and the warmth behind your face stung at your eyes without the ability to hide them when you inevitably opened them to the room once more.

Slowly her voice finally reached your hearing as she called to your name once more. “Is it over? What happened?” You appreciated her concern, but gentle rocking to ease calm into little Eddard as you needed it to return to you, you shook your head.

Turning only to press your lips against his head, did you whisper, keeping him cradled close against you. “I-” Do you lie? What explanation could make sense of such unbecoming and erratic behaviour? It did not come up as smooth as some lies go down, but you forced it out in a strained mutter all the same. “I just needed to check on him is all. I shouldn’t be away from him for so long.”

Somewhere in the back of your mind you felt thankful at Gilly’s lack of hesitation to rest a comforting hand on your back, leaning more to try and speak closer to you directly then from behind, but without pushing you. The change of subject almost seemed odd at first to what of you could hear her through the blood rushing rapidly in your veins. “I’ve never been away from Sam before.” Your head barley tilted to the side to indicate you heard her. “From the day he was born, I’ve never been without him. I’ve never been away from his side for more then a few minutes, really. I couldn’t imagine having to be away from my son for so long right after he was born.”

The sensation of racing in your heart begun to settle, the realization that not every facet of your life was dictated by others, that not everything would be lost to you the way it once was in such blood. Muttering as you looked down at little Eddard, now awake but snuggling into where he lay at your neck and shoulders, a warmth only then coming through you to feel any manner of rational again. “I was apart from him for hours after he was born.”

Slowly moving to sit in the seat, Gilly had quickly moved the bassinet to the ground as she held the back of the chair. Shifting the baby to rest down in your arms, leaning over to keep his bright eyes looking up at you as you murmured to continue. “I only had him for three hours, I had only fed him once when..” Gilly nodded from what you could see from the side of your vision, she didn’t force you to say it. “I was away from him for hours right after he was born. I was terrified by the time I’d get back to him it would be too late.”

Hands trying to reach up to grasp at either yours or what he could catch of strands of your hair did a little laugh crack out, along with the smile matching on his which no doubt would grow up to look exactly like Jons. “He adores you, I don’t think you have to worry about not protecting him just because you sometimes can’t be with him all day.”

Shaking your head, your smile melted into something tender, unwilling, or perhaps unable, to look away from him as you could continue to see he was as healthy has he was this morning, as he was the day before and the day before that. Everywhere in your life you felt as if you could see the bodies of dead children follow you, their memories haunting you just like the blood soaking Robbs hand that was the last of a son you’d never know was within your sights.

Already things would come for you, for all of you when the winter storms breached the Wall, but as you sat there part of you could only consider, if his plan here worked, whatever it truly was, would he have hurt your son? Would he have harmed Jon? Your life was one thing, theirs was far more precious to you. Little hands drew your attention, a laugh leaving you despite the thoughts swimming in your head. Looking up, you nodded over to a shall sitting across a chair belong to Gilly, “Would you mind? He needs to be fed and-”

A small smile came over her, a knowing you rarely felt in mothers around you it seemed. “Of course.” Coming back over as soon as she grabbed it, you had already undid the easy laces to the front of your dress, a surprised noise leaving you as she made herself comfortable wrapping it around you. “I was out there for months with little Sam, I got used to covering the two of us quick.”

Finding a seat as you muttered a thank you, and an internal one to the Mother for gracing you with a son that had not a single issue with latching, you almost felt a relaxing come across your bones. The paranoia slowly leaving you, knowing you fed him with nothing but your milk and monsters like Littlefinger had not tainted that. Glancing up, Gilly had taken a seat opposite of you by the fire, something on her mind. “You can say whatever it is you want to say, Gilly.”

“Sorry, sometimes I remember who you are and that I’m supposed to be proper around you.” A smile crossed your lips as you glanced up to her and back down to the baby telling her that you much preferred she not treat you that way it seemed to put her more comfortably at ease. “He’s doing all this to protect you.” Your brow raised in question. “Jon. I mean he wants to protect his whole family, but he’s doing this mostly to protect you. When he and Sam think they’re alone, all Jon does is talk about you, that hes angry you came back and the world won’t leave you and him be.”

In your heart you knew that, but something flipped in your chest at hearing someone else say it with ease, the way people with ease would comment on how Robb felt about you. If you looked closer, you might be able to see traces of a scar haunting you of a son that never was, but before that was the small sight of the real one feeding from your breast. How much you’d do anything to protect him and Jon, but sometimes it was easy to forget. That Jon didn’t just want to protect his son, that people wanted to protect you.

Benjen had looked for you himself to protect you, he chose that on his own. Jon risked everything with a newborn with him to find you before you were taken away from him. And then he comes home, and watches as a plan unfolds around his brother and sisters that means to separate you from him, and put your life in danger once more.

Your voice was quiet as you all but murmured in the air between you and Gilly. “All I started to think of down there was how painful it would be for Jon to lose all of this now, the way it hurt me to lose Robb that night. I couldn’t sit there and relive all of that for the sake of justice because all suddenly could think was how it would feel to put Jon through what I went though.” Eyes glancing to the fire, your tone lowered just a pinch. “While I’m worried about it, he’s the one actually trying to stop it, trying to prevent it. It’s just...not easy accepting that.”

Gilly only commented that it wasn’t easy accepting that Sam sent her away once trying to protect her. “When the other wildlings came, Sam thought I was dead. It took me days to get back to Castle Black and once I saw him again all I cared about was that we were together. It didn’t matter why I was upset before, or he was angry with himself for it.” Asking gently when you got there, her answer almost took you by surprise. “The night the Mance Rayder attacked Castle Black. Part of me still wonders if Sam would’ve stood and fought as much as he did that night if he still thought we were dead. That protecting me gave him a reason to fight even though he always tried to claim he wasn’t good at it.”

“Well, he’s gotten you this far.” Gilly only came back saying that Jon had done the same for you. It almost felt nice, a mutual understanding of having such a strange and difficult to explain love for someone that doesn’t always look like the right thing to others. Sam did the things he did to protect her and you didn’t look at him as if he was wrong for it.

But Jon was doing this for you, and you had every faith in him he could. But as you sat there, allowing the time to pass not focusing on what could possibly be said down in the hall, you considered one more thing. Sam had sent Gilly away to protect her and she made her way back to him, Jon wanted to protect you from Littlefinger, but maybe it was your turn to make your way back to Jon.

Though, you had moreso it seemed, meant that in a metaphorical sense.

The guilt had been established. No trial needed, no public proceedings. Barbrey Dustin had sat in that room and confessed every single detail without holding back. But sitting there now, it was obvious to Jon even moreso then that day, the shame which had grown within her for such actions. He did not wish to condemn her as an evil woman, and now more then ever she had begun to prove him right. It did not take away what she already did, but she had been upfront.

Littlefinger had any and every chance to speak for himself the truth, and he took not one of such opportunities. Already he had betrayal in Ser Royce long before now, and to thus sit here and be stripped down by a woman whom had spied for him the horrific details of what she knew.

Once Jon gave her the freedom to speak, off she had went. As if the moment her mouth opened the air never run out. Rarely needing to interject, Jon had only asked her why it was she never had any instructions from him during the year after the night at the Twins regarding you, if she had known you were alive. And it only served to add onto the falling image he still stood with. “Until Roose had made the move to Winterfell, only a small garrison of his men knew she was alive. I never informed Lord Baelish of the information.”

“Why?”

Glancing back to Jon then the crowd, she avoided Littlefingers narrowed gaze as if she cared not to implore herself to him but people of her own kind, that perhaps all was not lost for her. Thinking to herself only a moment or two, did she find something solemn in her tone. “I was shown the extent of her wounds, then Roose informed me she was alive. I have seen my fair share of blood in my life, but..nothing ever quite like that. Most of you can imagine I am not a woman easily shocked, but that sight.” Looking away for a moment before continuing, Jon knew the feeling of seeing it. Very few had.

He could at any point imagine it perfectly, as in front of his eyes as the feverish dream showed him the blood you laid and died in. Not his men, his sisters, nor anyone could imagine what looking at such a sight felt inside. For as many as littered his own chest, the wounds of knives in Jon were clean. One stab then the next. You had been cut open all it had reminded Jon of was that day they found the direwolves, and seeing the dead stag laying out with its stomach pooled out onto the rotting ground.

“It isn’t an easy thing. Seeing that sort of violence on the woman you, yourself had called a Queen. Had I told Lord Baelish, well I could not imagine what sort of death would come to follow after what she had already returned from. Despite everything I had and would go on to do, still I knew that not even she deserved whatever that would be. So I withheld it from him.”

It was the first she had spoken, and the first Jon sensed any amount of rising troubled emotion in his little sister as Sansa spoke up. A doubt in her tone, but eyes set centre on Littlefinger whom was doing what Jon assumed, was his best to pretend he was not losing faith. “Lady Barbrey, I have a question for you.” Turning a little in suprise, but she gave every ounce of respect if somehow more then previous as she faced the crowd. An act of playing along or not Jon knew it was convincing to watch. “Why go through him? If you were to tell someone she was alive, by then the North was under Roose Boltons control, and he answered to Tywin Lannister. Why would you fear going through Lord Baelish when all he would do is bring that information to the Lannisters?”

Littlefinger ever so slightly tilted his head at Sansa, a curiosity in the question but the moment they slid to the right, landing on Jon did that curiosity once more die. Going through all of these events, telling a story Jon knew you didn’t wish to be public all for your saftey, and the pain of reliving such things and fears having driven you from the hall itself as Jon knew he couldn’t go after you. Theon had silently left, only to return with the whisper of where you had gone and were with, being the only thing letting Jon even somewhat relax.

But to add onto all of that, the last thing he was willing to tolerate was Littlefinger still looking at Sansa as if he had the right to expect her on his side. As if planning once more how to use his advantage as a grown man to manipulate a teenage girl back onto his side. He had wanted to treat her as a woman when he had been forcing her closer and closer to that since she was only a girl of thirteen. But as eyes met, Jon knew Littlefinger likely still felt the sensation of being slammed against the wall and the pressure around his throat the only thing sparing him being Jons own self control.

Barbrey Dustin however, answered Sansa’s question with more fuel to throw onto the fire that was his losing battle of having a single Stark left on his side. “Lord Tywins instructions to Roose detailed the murder of the King and Queen in the North. When Lord Baelish had used me to facilitate this arrangement between the Crown and the North, he was the one who insisted on the importance of her death in particular. That if all else failed there was still the chance to defeat King Robb in battle, but that under no circumstances, could the Queen be allowed to live.” Head rose high now, she kept her eyes on Jon and the Starks beside him. “He had painted the situation as if her death was more important then King Robb’s himself. Learning she was alive when I first saw her, I couldn’t grasp why it was so important to him. But something of the situation felt strange to me, so I kept it to myself.”

Interrupting before any could continue, Jons voice projected throughout the hall. “My lady, you told me he never gave you any orders until after I reclaimed Winterfell. What had occurred which made you decide to listen to him if you already didn’t think you could trust him?”

The truth she told was as she confessed to him. That the act of refusing to give up to the Lannisters that you were alive, had in turn been the act which forced Barbrey Dustin back into Littlefingers control. Now he had leverage over her knowing she kept that from him, and finding out that you were alive and once again within a position of relative power, meant that instead of having her killed for keeping that information from him, she was going to help him instead.

Spy for him on you, on Jon by proxy. And she followed his every instruction which led you to Moat Cailin. Where Littlefinger had been relying on the perceived bloodlust of the new leader of the Brotherhood Without Banners to kill you in a manner which left little trace back to him.

If the story wasn’t damning enough, there was nothing but a rising wave of anger once more through the watchers in the hall as she read out one by one each copy of the ravens sent between she and Littlefinger. It had not been a bluff when Jon told her that he had already seen every letter sent and received by her from within his walls.

Sparing a glance to his side, Jon found Brans gaze drifting towards him. A raise of his little brothers eyebrow, he knew the question, but Jon wouldn’t act yet. He had enough to say Littlefinger was guilty of the attempt on your life and Jon knew he would need no more justification to take his head for it in his people’s eyes. Not the whole tale, but there was something he had to do first.

You had run off, and Jon needed to check on you, he needed to make sure you were alright, and he needed to tell you that you didn’t have to do this, you did not have to say what you knew and he and Bran would understand. Standing from his seat all eyes turned to Jon without hesitation as his voice projected through the hall. “We’ll stop here for now. Give us,” Gesturing to his siblings beside him first then to Littlefinger. “And Lord Baelish time to consider the evidence so far. We’ll continue when I return.”

People everyone stood up, moving about and out the hall as the guards surrounding Littlefinger indicted he was to stay right where he was, and a failure Jon noticed, to catch Sansa’s eye as she stood as well. “Jon-”

Turning to her, Jons voice was set and firm in more of something akin to a whisper towards her. “You don’t need to make your mind up right now, the trial isn’t over.” Looking to Arya he nodded for her to come over. “I don’t want you, any of you alone in the room with you. Take Bran, and go somewhere else for a while, all of you. Until this is over I won’t have any of you anywhere near him.”

A glare came easy from Arya as she looked over to him, a mutter matching Jons low one. “What do you think he’s going to do?” But Jon knew the answer.

“He’s not going to do anything. It’s what he’ll say I’m worried about.”

Some time had passed as the baby was fed. You now resting him back down, a hand still on him watching his bright eyes finally lull asleep when the door opened. A much more wild and on edge Jon firmly closed the door behind him, either ignoring or more likely not even seeing Gilly in the room did Jon come over to you.

The second your body turned in his direction, Jon grabbed you and pulled you into his front. A hand holding at your hip while the other cupped your cheek, thumb running over the skin as he leaned down with his eyes dark and yet urgent. “Are you alright?” Nodding yes, Jon leaned in more narrowing his eyes. “You sure?”

Again you nodded, your hands resting high on his chest and by his shoulders more. “I am. I’m sorry I ran out that way, I couldn’t-”

Cutting you off, Jon let the hand on your cheek drift to rake through your hair. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you sit through all that.” Gently muttering his name, Jon pressed onward anyways. “I didn’t want to hide you away, I wanted him to see you, see the woman he tried to take from me-”

“Jon.” Hands reaching up, you cupped both sides of his face, the scratching of the facial hair against the wrappings of your hands would’ve felt soothing were they bare palms against the coarseness. “I just came to check on him, he needed to be fed anyways.” He knew you were downplaying it, but too could Jon sense the tension had been gone for at least a little while in your muscles. “You know I’m starting to wonder how you put up with this.” Asking with what, your answer pulled a laugh from him immediately. “Put up with me, I mean.”

Nudging your nose with his, he muttered close that you felt his warm breath dance across your skin. “Someone has to.” Cupping the back of your neck, Jon tilted your head down to press a kiss to your forehead, your hands slipping to his shoulders as he allowed you to pull back enough to meet his eyes. “He betrayed you and my father once, he tried to have you killed, and now he’s trying to tear you away from me to do who knows what. I know you don’t like it, but I have to do this. I won’t let him take you from me, in any way. Neither of us will.”

His head gesturing down to the now slumbering bundle, did you smile. A handsome one once more graced Jons face watching you. “I’m ready.” Brows narrowing, you both knew he meant to ask for a certain. “I promise. You’re doing what you need to to protect your family, but you’re all my family now too. I have to do the same.”

Murmuring your name, Jon ran a hand soothingly down your hair at the back of your head, “You don’t have to do this, darling. I have enough on him without putting you in the middle of it like that.”

Nodding, your eyes did not have a single flash of anything which was not a certainty. “I’m sure. You’re protecting me, let me help you. He won’t be able to even attempt talking his way out of this, you know he won’t. Let me do this, and we finish this together.” Asking gently why the sudden change of heart, you felt a melting in your bones almost compel you to sink into his warmth, forcing yourself to stay at a distance, meeting his eyes so he knew you were no longer in doubt. “The damage was already done, I may as well put it to good use.”

Narrowing his eyes, Jon pulled your hands from him to hold in front of you both, the wrappings more red then before. As if switching from night and day did the softness leave Jons eyes, as they darkened with a concern. “What happened?” He didn’t even let a second pass before he came to the answer on his own. “I’ll clean and wrap them, but you’re wearing gloves this time.”

You didn’t argue, Jon sitting you back down in the seat as he kneeled on the ground to get a better level to work at your hands. Palms facing up on your knees, for such large and rough hands in feeling, Jon always worked away on yours with such a feather light touch. “Do Arya and Sansa know?” Shaking his head, you let out a deep sigh. “Not an easy way to learn about it.”

Jon didn’t waver in his work, nor even allow himself to be distracted. “I never knew until the night you saw it. I was at Castle Black, and all I had was a letter from Robb saying Bran woke up. Told me he’d never walk again, but nothing about what happened.”

Perhaps in another life you wouldn’t have been so confident speaking for him, but it came out as natural as the image in your head appeared. “He knew you’d come back. Taken your vows or not, he knew you’d come back if he told you what happened.” Affirming he would’ve, you knew that made three times he had tried to do so. “I’m starting to think the gods were trying to tell you something.” Asking what, you had made him pause his work at the gentle way you said it. “That you didn’t deserve to think you didn’t have a place here anymore.”

Only a moment in waiting did Jon let a beat pass, before a small huff left him, returning to now wrapping the left hand first. Low he rasped, “My place is here with you.” Flickering his eyes up, the wide grey shined at you in a boyish sort of charm. If a tease existed on your tongue, Jon watched you swallow it back down. Not even needing to look as he wrapped your right hand, “I’m protecting them too. My sisters, my brother, my son, but I’m here because I need to protect you. Because you won’t do it yourself. Why I never should’ve left, I’ve always been the one to stop you from getting into trouble.”

Honestly, you didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did, a true jest dry in nature. “So why have I been in more trouble since marrying you?”

It was unfair, he was so much quicker then you were at this sort of thing, he didn’t even need to let enough time to blink skip by before he snarked back, “I think you just like the punishment.” His name leaving your lips in a hiss knowing Gilly could’ve easily heard that, but Jon rose his head with that smirk so handsome across his face. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

You had no defence, and he was smug knowing it. He truly must not have cared, cupping the back of your neck, Jon brought you to his lips. His other hand cupping your cheek and jaw, tilting you to the angle so much better for him the way you both sat. Keeping you pressed to his kiss, he was soft and guiding, kissing you deeply but with a slowness that made it somehow as chaste as it was passionate. Almost too much so for someone else being in the room, but he tilted your head to kiss you more regardless the second you even thought about pulling away.

A tingling left on your lips as he let his teeth graze on your bottom one, almost teasing you with deepening his kiss in a way he wouldn’t so brazenly out in the open as such. The second your lips left his, Jon had barley even allowed his eyes to open to see yours still shut as if in a daze when he pushed forward. Connecting you right back, his kiss so much deeper, so much more demanding right away as your hands dug into his shoulders, him keeping your face in his hands to steal every inch of breath in your lungs, gifted right into his mouth along with such small sounds of need bouncing around in your chest.

One kiss, then another, then another before finally Jon had to be the one to tear himself from your lips, turning you head down once again to leave one at your forehead and resting against it. Your murmur was light in his ear as your hands wrapped around the back of his neck. “None of this will make our lives any easier.”

Jons rasp was as deep as it was comforting. “No. But they won’t be so complicated anymore. We can focus on what really matters.” The audacity Jon had to lean back to let his eyes drag down to your stomach, breaking out into a grin as you tried to pull away hiding a flustered grin. “We finish this today, and it’s over. I promise.”

Leaning in, your kiss was far more tender and light then his was. Not in need but almost an appreciation for the love he never wavered in showing no matter what direction your spiralling mind could take him in at any moment. Speaking against them, you felt by the tightness of his hand on the back of your neck that Jon was tempting pulling you back into his kiss each word you said. “I trust you.”

Nodding, Jon brushed his nose against yours barley letting you nudge back before pulling back. Hands lifting you to your feet, he only looked down at you for one moment before grasping at the laces of the front of your dress, tightening them with furrowed brows, as if even the idea of temptation of how it made you look made him annoyed. If it was with the idea that other men would notice how loose it was around your chest or if it was because it would be that loose right beside him and couldn’t have anything be done about it that annoyed him.

Leaning down, Jon pressed a kiss to little Eddards forehead, whispering only enough you and him could hear. “Don’t nap too long. I need time with your mother tonight.” Only hesitating for half of a second Jon grin adding, “Still need to make you a sister.”

Were Gilly not in the room you’d have called his name in a fluster, but your wide eyes and embarrassed smile said it all for him no doubt. Both making your way back down, Jons hand pressed firmly into your lower back each step did you ask, “Who else still needs to speak?”

Shaking his head a little bit, Jon answered with more of an authority falling back into his tone naturally the closer you both got to the meeting hall. “Only you.” Nodding, you both arrived, clearly everyone was waiting inside for the trial to commence once more, the guards alone on the other side of the closed doors as you both stood there. Turning you in his arms, Jon cupped your cheek, holding at your hip in the other, simply allowing himself not to care of the guards watching his softness with you. “Give me a bit, when the doors open, it’ll be your turn. Are you ready?”

Exhaling shakily, your hands rested on his waist as you shook your head. “No, but it’s like you said. We end this now.” Pulling you back in, his kiss that time was much deeper, yet more urgent before pulling away. Looking you over with wide eyes, Jon swallowed down the rest of such raw need of many desires as his expression steeled over. Nodding for the guards to let him through, you could only stand out there.

Waiting for them to open, you had confronted the memory of Catelyn Stark in a trial of your own with no hesitation. This was not your trial nor your death on the option of the chopping block, you would not allow yourself to let the fear talk you out of it now. Not with what you were about to say, and how few anyone in that room could guess what that would be.

No doubt, Littlefinger had expected once the trial begun once more as Jon sat down, that he would finally be given his chance. A man such as him you knew would’ve spent the entire duration of the break between coming up with the right words to convince even one person. But when Jon had called for the next witness and the doors opened, never more was there such a distinct apprehension, and perhaps even fear which flashed before his eyes as it was you who walked into the hall, and up to the small podium.

You had felt fear before, but meeting his eyes, you too could see one person specifically up at the table on Jons side. Jon did the rest of this without fear to protect you, it was your turn to return the favour. If there was only one slip, it was the simple one noted by some, that the King in the North had been polite, yet stern and proper this whole time but was just the slightest bit softer spoken with just the softer matching eyes looking to you as he only ever addressed you by your first name.

If that was Jons only slip, then you knew you could not disappoint him this time.

Asking how it was you knew the accused, you only looked to him for as long as it took for Littlefingers eyes to narrow in question at you, before you turned back to Jon. Collected you hoped it was, and steady without sounding like you were forcing it. “I’ve known him since I was a twelve, he sat at the small council in Kings Landing with my father, and later myself when I begun sitting in on such meetings as well.”

Jon had the questions he needed to establish, but with less demand in the way he spoke to you compared to anyone else. “Did he ever give you a reason to think he’d betray your trust?”

Again, your eyes looked to his, and then back at Jons. As if the familiarity of the grey could overpower the beating in your heart. “Yes. More then once.” Some whispers begun, only to be washed away into silence as with but a single glance to the crowd in disapproval did they all grasp the message their King was telling them. That this was not the time to gossip or to stop paying attention. “The first was in Kings Landing, during the time your father was serving as Robert Baratheon’s Hand of the King.”

Waiting only long enough for Jon to gently nod at you with a gentle look did you know he was prompting you to speak it in your own words in your time. He knew the questions to ask to guide you to the conclusion you both knew was coming. And Jon too knew the closer to that he could get you to, the more confident you would grow to say it on your own. He just needed to help you get there first.

Speaking clearly, you would glance ever so briefly at Arya and Sansa, the details of all this mostly lost on them as only unaware girls at the time of the events before it all crumbled around them in one single day. “King Robert was dying, and your father and I had uncovered the truth that his children and heir were not actually his, and he had not known it. Both of us knew once he was gone, that Cersei Lannister would attempt to force Prince Joffery onto the throne knowing he was not Robert’s rightful heir, and that she would use force against us if necessary.”

Dragging your eyes over to him, the single brow raised did not even anger you as perhaps once his attempts may have. He assumed this trial was still about you, afterall. But you didn’t care about that, what he had done and tried to do to you. You cared about what he would do once he got what he wanted. With you out of his way entirely, where would he stop? Not just with you, not with your son, and certainly would not stop before trying to move Jon from his path as well.

Jon was doing this to protect his siblings, and to protect you and the case he had created was well put together enough none in this room would object to Littlefinger being sentenced to death. But you were here for Jon, he was your purpose and so you would erase any spec of doubt left within the air and force it gone forever. You were to leave no stone unturned, and no room to ever give a single person doubt of Jons choice.

“Lord Baelish assured Lord Stark and myself that the City Watch would be on our side, sworn to defend the Kings peace. But we stood in the throne room, and realized he had done the exact opposite.” Darker and darker the colour in your eyes grew as did the tightening in your heart at the sight and memory swirling of a last time you then had not known. “It wasn’t until the City Watch had murdered the remainder of the Stark household guard, one held a knife to my throat and Littlefinger holding a knife to Lord Stark’s did we understand he never intended to help us.”

“I did warn you not to trust me.”

You ignored the whispers, you ignored the looks any gave to one another or to you or to Littlefinger. You simply stomped over whatever explanation he’d no doubt give again to pile against him this time. “Lord Baelish purposely betrayed us knowing it would lead to Ned Stark’s death, hoping it would lead me to mine. During the war, when Catelyn Stark had gone to the Stormlands to negotiate peace with Renly Baratheon, Lord Baelish approached her. Telling her lies that he never betrayed us, telling her lies that Arya was safe in the captiol when none had heard from her, and offered to arrange sending home the bones of a man he helped lead to his death to manipulate Lady Catelyn in freeing Ser Jaime Lannister in hopes her daughters would be returned to her. When he knew without any doubt, they did not have Arya, and they would never give Sansa up.”

It was strange, that fear you felt no longer within your chest. As if knowing all you knew, and trusting that the man you loved would keep you safe, you felt nothing about the way Littlefinger looked to you as if daring to say it. You knew too what he may say to you in return, but he had not a clue what sort of place he had come to. Your eyes barley tore from him at the behest of Jons voice asking you in a more lulling tone then he would’ve others, “The crime he committed was against your life and you’ve established he has reasons to do it. Is there anything you’d like to add?”

Jon was giving you that one last chance to tell him you couldn’t do it, but the brightness in them and the warmth radiating into you was only watched as your eyes flickered to Bran. Your hands flexing under the material of your gloves, you felt the sting of the blade as you looked at him. Were one to not focus, still he could’ve been mistaken for a boy, the boy you thought you’d never seen again who did not yet know the danger of the world around him.

Your voice was steady, as you met Jons gaze before turning to address the court. “There is nothing I could add to the case which the King has already presented today, but there is one thing which has not been answered. Why.” Those up on the stand here had seldom found reason or willingness to address him so directly, but your lack of fear in doing so, almost seemed to put him on edge. “Lord Baelish, you knew there was a chance the Lannisters may have traded Ned Stark’s life in exchange for peace with the North, but you knew there was no negotiating with Stannis Baratheon once he had chosen to fight against Joffery’s claim. That he was not a man to surrender in exchange to free me from being a prisoner. When you betrayed myself and Ned Stark that day, if you only had one plan which you hoped would work, is that I without any doubt would’ve been executed for a treason we both knew was false.”

If you listened closely, the sounds of the strings was heard through the halls in an echo only to you, but still you spoke over it. You pushed passed it knowing lingering on just that pain was not where this belonged. “You later had hoped the threat I posed to you was gone the night the Freys betrayed Robb Stark and I at the Twins. And when you heard I was alive over a year later, you tried again to have me killed but in a way you hoped could not lead back to you.” Truly it was as if something inside of you flipped.

The way Jons own fears of his blood and father and who he is, all compounding in fears which were inflamed by his own sister. But those distrusting didn’t come from her alone, you knew her as a girl but that level of animosity towards Jon did not come from merely years of being apart. That came from somewhere. Someone whom had interest in getting between you and Jon before.

Growing and growing that resentment that he ever thought to worry with you what he was like, how he treated you, or if you feared the love he gave you, and the question of would this have returned to Jons mind had the man before you not slithered in, a snake looking to bite at the right strike. “When all else failed around you Lord Baelish, you then came here. Under the guide of simply bringing Sansa home where she belongs, and then you stayed. You fed lies to her, saying that Jon is nothing more then a bastard who can’t be trusted, that she should attempt to drive us apart. Because you know that it is a lot easier to try and kill me when I’m nowhere near Jons side.”

Sensing her eyes on you intensely, you pushed passed what you knew Sansa had not yet started to consider. Not that such a thing was her fault. Whatever she and Jon had discussed the other night seemed to have brought her down to some kind of understanding with him, but you knew this was not even the worst.

Whispers around all begun a slow ascend, the unavoidable fact that it continued to get worse and worse and how utterly long and devastating of a path it took Jon and yourself to be able to get here. Of course, he had not perhaps, seen it coming that his path against you had attempted to take what should’ve been time used to repair Sansa’s difficult past with Jon and Arya, instead making her animosity drive them each apart from her. Looking to you, he had the audacity to speak as if you were anywhere near done. “Perhaps what you see as lies were merely what I thought was fair advice to Lady Sansa-”

If Sansa were to speak for herself, instead who took up her defence was Arya. Cutting through him louder and with a bite in her tone enough it could’ve come across a growl. “You weren’t here to help her, you’ve never tried to help her.” Jon attempted to call Arya’s name in a quieter tone, but she kept going, likely not even hearing him. “The last time I saw my sister she was screaming and crying for Joffery not to murder our father and because you came here trying to tear what few of us were left, I couldn’t even be happy to see her again because all I saw was you.”

Eyes flickering between Jon and to Sansa, no doubt he too could feel the conflict within her, that guilt at what part she played and the slow understanding of todays events the degree he simply used her. Afterall, she had not known any reason to see any ill use of giving her young cousin sweetmilk. She had not a clue that when Maester Coleman had grown suspicious of him, did he send the naive Alyane Stone to continue it for him. Until Maester Wolkan had explained it’s effects, until you had heard too much to handle and left did it occur what he had her become.

And just like the rest of it, that wasn’t even the worst of it.

Arya continued to defend her sister, in despite of everything and how strained they were and how little they talked, it was just like that night at the inn. Moments before she had grabbed at Sansas hair yelling she was a liar as the two girl fought against the other, then without any hesitation did Arya yell at Cersei herself the moment Lady was declared to take the punishment in Nymeria’s place. You had seen the way she much like you had, stared unblinkingly at Cersei with a glare wild in her eyes as she stood beside her crying sister.

Only this time, Sansa didn’t cry or argue or yell, she sat in a silence in a feeling you knew too well. As if she sat a stranger to who she even was anymore, and Jon saw it too. A small nod, Jon read your intent that you understood to leave it to him as Arya was arguing back against Littlefinger. Whom had just inferred that perhaps his advice was simply taken in the wrong way beacuse of a misunderstanding. “You don’t even know him, you just call him a bastard and tell Sansa to assume the worst, and expect anyone to believe you didn’t intend to tear us apart-”

“Arya.”

Snapping over to him, Arya felt that feeling much like Sansa had the other night, but in a way familiar to her. The calling of her name in a manner and tone so much like their father, but coming from Jon. His head tilting as he looked at her with a knowing expression. “That’s enough.”

The understanding between them was one of a silent language Jon had always been able to speak to Arya. An equally as low and rasping voice from closer to you however drew your focus. Benjen softly prompting you with something shining of encouragement in his eyes only you seemed to catch. “Please, continue.”

Only a nod, but turning from the table towards where Littlefinger stood, you knew there was little left. “What I am saying, my lord, is that you should have worked far sooner to try and kill me again.”

He was daring you gave him that, looking to you as if to attempt to make you sound delusional. “And why your grace, would you think I want that?”

Not for long would he remain daring. Staring at one another, no doubt were you any other witness, such an exchange of words not be permitted so freely, but you trusted Jon the rest of this trial and so now he trusted in you. Your voice was flat as you spoke, and yet did not match the ever growing darker look within your eyes. “Do you know much about gambling, my lord?”

Eyes flickering side to side in a bit of confusion, he sounded more honest in that moment then he had the entire time he had been within the North. “I’ve dabbled in it.”

The scowl grew a breath more noticeable. “Then you would know two important rules a smart gambler would live by. Firstly, never wait to play your best card for too long. Because another might come around with a better one in the time it took you to choose when to play it.” If he didn’t grasp it then, he did now as you slowly and clearly phrased it. “The second, never play the same card too many times. Eventually someone will recognize your tricks, and put together how much you’ve lied your way into winning.”

There it was. The look you were waiting for. The anger of a man realizing that he had placed his enemy in the hands of the wrong Baratheon. How does it feel Lord Baelish, you thought. How does it feel to realize that it wasn’t Stannis’s hatred for him that was his biggest enemy, it was the daughter right in front of his eyes. Doing exactly what he had tried more then one to have you killed to avoid. It simply took long enough to come together that it brought him into a falsehood of his own hubris.

You didn’t even look to the crowd, or Jon. Just Littlefinger right in the eye so he could feel it all coming.

“The night King Robert had come to Winterfell, Catelyn received a letter from the Eyrie from her sister, Lysa Arryn. Stating that her husband, the Hand of the King, Jon Arryn had been murdered by the Lannisters.” Not yet any reaction further. “The day after, when most of the men and guard were on a hunt, ten year old Bran Stark had seemingly fallen from a tower, leaving him unconscious for nearly a month and crippled for the rest of his life. Not long before he had woken up, a fire was started in the library here to draw attention away from Brans chambers. Only Lady Catelyn had still been there taking care of her son, when a man came into the room, attacked Lady Catelyn, and viciously attempted to murder Bran Stark in his sleep before his throat was ripped out by Brans direwolf Summer, saving his life.”

Oh very few would be able to even spot it, but it was there. The slightest twitch in his eye, and the rush within your blood burned hotter. Jons voice to the side was rough, a control meaning to hide the husk furthering him into an anger. “Do you know who this man was?”

Your head shook slightly to indicate a no. “No assassin any more sophisticated then a simple catspaw.” You dared not look at the remaining Starks, the distraction of their anger or devastation could not spare to interfere now. “The blade did stand out however. Made of Valyrian Steel, and the handle carved from dragon bone. Someone gave it him. Lady Catelyn had reasonable presumed the two incidents were connected, and Lysas letter had given the impression that the Lannisters loyalty to the crown was questionable already. Soon she left Winterfell for Kings Landing to inform her husband of the events but was greeted when she got there by you Lord Baelish.”

“I simply had heard she was coming-”

You cut him off, and the hall was silent as if only you both stood there. “You were honest with Catelyn. There is only one dagger like that in all the Seven Kingdoms. It was yours. But that you had bet it in a wager during the tournament of Prince Joffery’s last nameday.” Brows furrowing, Littlefinger looked confused and unsettled at the manner which you spoke, as if someone showed you the meeting itself. “You bet on Ser Jaime as any sane man would. When the Knight of the Flowers unseated him, you lost that dagger.”

Bran was more clever then you could’ve hoped for, both of you speaking such easy words yet only the man before you would recognize their exactness. “To whom?”

“Tyrion Lannister. The imp.” The details were harrowing, speaking of your time with Ned Stark in Kings Landing, what the mystery of uncovering Jon Arryns death had uncovered and why, the secret he learned before he was poisoned. How the secret pertained in such specifics to the nature of Cersei and Jaime Lannisters secret affair. “So imagine my suprise, Lord Baelish when Catelyn arrives at the Eyrie with Tyrion Lannister as her prisoner, as you put it in her head that he had tried to murder her son, that Lysa accuses him of a new crime. She suddenly accuses Lord Tyrion of murdering her husband, Jon Arryn as well. When so far, not even Ned Stark or I had come anywhere near that conclusion. Strange, how two murders were pinned on him. And even more strange, that I know for a fact, Tyrion Lannister had nothing to do with the attempt on Brans life.”

The trial by combat in the Eyrie, learning Jon Arryn was murdered by poison wine given to him by his squire. It all was a life reliving that had been so long gone but felt as if it were fresh in your mind without any doubt. Arya had glanced to the side, a look on her sisters face as they both found the others gaze, a near scowl putting it all together only to find Bran seemed to watch Littlefinger with the same amount of knowing animosity as you did.

An issue posed, was that you knew for a fact the person who ordered a catspaw to murder Bran was not connected to whomever pushed him from a window. Jaime Lannister had confessed to Catelyn that he did it, and neither he nor Cersei had a clue about the assassin. They weren’t connected, and neither did Lord Tyrion know about his brother and sister and thus had no reason to wish to see Jon Arryn out of the way.

Grasping at straws, that time he picked one which Jon himself had the answer to shut down. “Perhaps Lord Tyrion had other motives, arranged for the murder on the road after parting from Winterfell.”

Jon could speak for that. “He didn’t, and you know that. Lord Tyrion was on the road to visit Castle Black, with me, and my uncle, Benjen Stark.” Asking if by any chance was their an opportunity to plan an arm an assassin during that period of time, Benjen confirmed without a doubt there wasn’t.

Tyrion had no reason nor gain from ordering Jon Arryns death, and had even less reason or ability to order the attempt twice on Brans. “Twice falsely accused is odd, my lord. But three times? That tells me he was being used as a shield. A lamb for the slaughter to hide the real murderers actions.” Asking loudly and with a defiance you knew was crumbling to his feet, what this third imaginary crime was, it was nothing short of satisfying that she finally found her voice.

Something between a tearing of betrayal and anger was shaking behind Sansa’s voice. “You told me that you killed Joffery. You had a necklace made for me, one of the stones held the vial of poison so someone at the wedding could take it off me without me realizing and use it to poison him.” If the look on his face was a wider eyed shock, you hoped it felt even sharper in what little of a heart a man as him could possibly have. “You planned it all out to help me escape the city, knowing they would accuse me of helping my husband murder the King. You needed Cersei to accuse Tyrion, because you knew he had no one there to defend him. Knowing he and I both didn’t do it.”

The room was thick with tension. Littlefinger had one play left and it was his weakest card and it seemed he could sense that. “It would seem backwards for the King in the North to try me for the murder of the very King who murdered his father.”

Pushing up from the table, Jons stood with his hands braced against the surface and nothing but black remaining in his eyes. “You aren’t on trial for that, my lord. I could stand here and accuse you of using Lysa Arryn to murder her husband and blame it on Tyrion Lannister, of murdering the man who killed my father, but that’s not my place. More then once you tried to murder my wife, because you knew she was the only person left who could actually find the truth in the chaos you caused.”

If an ounce of credit could be given, it was that Littlefinger held himself together very well, but his eyes told stories beyond even his comprehension when he asked what reason would he have to cause that much chaos just to murder one woman. But Bran was the one with the answer, and one that put him into a silence as he realized there was no hiding from the truth coming out, because Bran said the one thing Petyr Baelish alone knew that not a soul in this room could have possibly known he said.

“To most of us, chaos is just a gaping pit waiting to swallow us all. Many try to climb it and fail, and never get to try again. The fall breaks them, some are given a chance to climb but they refuse. They cling to an illusion, but the climb is all there. Beacuse to a man like you, chaos isn’t a pit. Chaos is a ladder.”

Petyr Baelish could lie about you, he could lie to Sansa, to Catelyn, back stab many of the Starks and Baratheons because he knew he could get away with it, but he couldn’t look Bran Stark in the eye and even pretend as if he could climb his way out of this pit. The pit he caused.

And the issue was, chaos was not a ladder to all. Chaos was not found in the lives of some men. Ones with the trust in justice and duty and honour and love above all else. Jon stood there as King in the North and took away his last chance to ever try to climb his way out of that put of chaos. Projecting loud and a husk under an anger of dark eyes turned black and a tensity you felt too within your own bones, Jon knew he had him without any doubt, just as he trusted in you for.

“Unless any up here with me have any protest, I, Jon Snow, find Lord Petyr Baelish guilty of three charges.” Your name without even hesitating for once to feel the bravery to name you a Snow coming from him with that same rasping seriousness hardly masking an anger. “For conspiring to murder her, my wife and Queen. For betraying my father Eddard Stark and giving him over to the enemy you know was to kill him. And for the attempted murder of my little brother, Bran Stark.”

When none, not Arya, nor Bran, nor Benjen, nor even Sansa spoke a single word or even though about saying something in his defence, Jon gave a slow nod to the guards by him, not hesitating to pull Littlefingers arms back into chains, as he stared in a disbelief at how swiftly it had gone wrong without ever seeing it coming. There was not even an attempt to silence the sheer volume of the now standing crowd, the North loyal to their King and the Starks, shouting and yelling in defence of the family he had used and harmed over and over.

Petyr Baelish could only stare at Jon’s burning glare of black eyes. The man who, unlike his father who Littlefinger betrayed, had been the one to put the knife to his throat all without spilling a drop of blood.

[sshadowritestoriess]

Hi hi, can I have some ramattra first time HC’s plzz ily it’ll actually make my week omg 🙏💖

Hiii I hope this is sufficient 🫶

Ramattra’s First Time

Outwardly, he wouldn’t seem nervous in the slightest despite it being clear he needs some guidance

He knows how it works, that much is obvious. But he heavily lacks an understanding on how important foreplay is, and that there’s more that can be done during sex than just rutting against one another— so you’ll just have to show him

You’ll likely have to ask him to slow down a couple of times, and after the third or fourth attempt to stop him from rushing into it, he’d eventually give up on taking the lead

“Now what?” Becomes a popular question when he’s checked off something to your liking.

He’s aware he needs to be gentle during such an intimate activity, a stark contrast to the typical brute force he exerts for most of his daily tasks. But he’s still partially rough in his first tries to touch you— you’ll just need to grab his wrist and tell him to be careful, and he’ll try again

But his excitement and steady rise in confidence will result in quicker and rougher movements now and again. So reminders, reminders. Else he may attempt to break you.

He’d definitely find some difficulty in being vulnerable, letting you touch him to get riled up was not something he had mentally prepared for. It’d be a whiplash of internal conflict over how terrifying it is (who would have thought he’d allow human hands poke and prod at him to elicit pleasure) and how nice it feels.

Omnics have far more control over the sounds they can produce and when. It doesn’t take much effort for Ramattra to stifle small noises of encouragement, but in such an exposed and trusting state it is extremely easy to catch him off guard. Dragging a nervous grunt out of him will make him raise a hand to cover his throat, where his vocalizer hides. (He didn’t know he could even make that sound.)

He’d be easily embarrassed if you compliment him on anything— how he looks, how well he’s doing. He thanks you every time very politely, but you can practically hear how bashful he is in the stammer of his tone, as much as he tries to hide it in his body language.

He’d have a preference for the ‘main event’ to be in missionary for his first time, so he can see your face and watch carefully to make sure he’s doing everything right.

He’d express his gratitude to you as he sinks in, agonizingly slow, for being patient with him and trusting an omnic of his model to be vulnerable with you. Maybe a bit cheesy, but he was mostly running words out to keep himself from rushing his full length in with a single shove. A self-induced distraction so he doesn’t harm you by accident.

He would invite you to keep your hands on his chest or the silver handles on his hips, just in case, to give him a small push if he does anything too rough. He was designed with heightened senses— even the smallest amount of deliberate pressure could be detected, so he’d know to take it down a notch.

But he’d do just fine when he starts thrusting, small and shallow rolls of his hips controlled by a surge of nervousness to perform well. He may even begin narrating what this feels like for him; “It’s… like I’m on fire.”

He’d become addicted to your warmth very quickly, hiking your ass higher and pulling your thighs further over his while he arches in closer to you, burying his faceplate into your shoulder and relishing in the way his sensors alerted him toward the rise in temperature.

He’d cage you underneath him with his arms, eerily quiet— focused— on how much warmer he could make you, already experimenting with angle of his hips as he slows his pace and rides into you with differing strokes.

And then your walls flutter around him and that would be the first time you hear him moan. This shaken, breathy sound that rumbles from his upper chest, and releases the air vents in his shoulders with a quiet hiss.

He’d notice your reaction to the sound instantaneously— not only seen in the reaction of your face, but additionally in the way your internals hug around him and nearly pull him back inside. He’d be elated that his voice could cause such a response, and he’d become a lot more noisy for you after that

Ramattra would find himself asking every so often “is this alright?”, and you may have to try and stay focused enough to be able to reassure him, or else he’ll stop. It’s hard to tell if he pauses because he’s worried when you don’t respond, or because he’s being smug knowing you can’t.

If you encourage him to try going faster, he might hesitate. But with further praise, he may comply, trying to be quicker while being just as gentle as before.

He’s an extremely quick learner, however. One correct response to anything he’s attempted is immediately memorized and saved, and he will try certain things again exactly as he had the first time to get the best reactions out of you. His first time quickly begins to seem like it’s his hundredth time, becoming an expert in just under ten minutes.

So quickly molded to your liking, trying things you would like, toying with your body like a plaything to earn more praise and encouragement. For Ramattra, it’s so much less about the euphoria he feels from you, and more about how long he can please you before you come undone.

But he still would like an orgasm, so he may get a little selfish toward the end of the exercise. He would whisper to you to please forgive him, pushing into you more rough than before, hammering wave after wave of pleasure into himself until he’s completely overwhelmed his systems.

You will literally have to brace yourself the first time he ‘cums’ inside you, his entire frame would tremble and shake while his limbs go rigid and lock up, until he eventually collapses on top of you with a deep sigh as he’s lulled into a brief unconscious state. But he would be up again in just a handful of seconds, and he’d apologize once more

And, being a machine with a nonexistent sense of stamina, he will make it up to you again and again if only you wish for it. Sex turned out to be a lot more fun than he had imagined, especially with a human, and he’d love nothing more than to show you how eternally grateful he is toward you for letting him play.

[writingroom21]

Sweet Escape

Pairing: Rafe x single mom reader

Summary: Moving to Kildare with your best friend and daughter was the perfect move. The little island is perfect, the people are nice, and you are finally at peace. Then Rafe comes in with his perfect smile and charm, sweeping you off your feet. The only issue is if you are ready to let someone else in.

Warnings: 18+, mentions of cheating and physical abuse( by Theo), mentions of kidnapping, (let me know if I missed any

Wc: 6.6K

series masterlist

Chapter 6: Test Run

“You have to make sure the till is always at two hundred dollars at the end of the night. I left the spare key in the desk for you to lock up.” You ramble off looking at your fingers to make sure you don’t forget something. “Make sure the alarm is set before you leave too.” Rafe’s hands grab your shoulder pointing you to the front door of the shop. “Babe, I think she’s got everything. Plus she’s been working here for a month now so I think she knows what to do.” Rafe’s right she does know.

Wheezie has been working at the shop for a month now. She started on the last day Rafe had off. It was funny seeing the two siblings work together in such a small store. To be honest it was a good suggestion from Rafe. Unbeknownst to you he had talked to every charity that he knew of telling them to get flowers from you. Business has been taking off and you really needed the help now. Plus she’s a sweet girl and was in need of money.

Over the weeks the two of you had gotten closer. She would go to your daily lunches with the three of you. Sometimes she would go over to the house and have dinner with you, Jo and June when Rafe was busy or joined you. It was nice seeing how she warmed up to you and was comfortable sharing things with you.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” You look up at the young girls as she plays with some baby’s breath. “Of course I do.” Silently she places it back on the table and jumps to sit on it. “Then why hasn’t a boy asked me out?” Pushing the vase away from you, you lean against the table to look at her. “I think that’s because boys are stupid. Is there a certain boy?”

She blushes and puts her hair behind her ears. “His name is Max. He’s so cute and I have English with him. Sometimes all he can do is talk to me but then he acts like I don’t exist.” Taking a deep breath you look at her. Just by the look on your face she can tell that you feel bad for her. You're chewing on your bottom lip thinking of what to say. “Sometimes boys think it’s fun to play with your emotions. They want to feel control over you so they play mind tricks. If he can’t be bothered to talk to you 100% of the time then he doesn’t deserve you.”

Wheezie looks you in the eyes, giving you a light smile. “You’re really good at this. Vi is very lucky to have you, so is Rafe.” You go and give her a hug, squeezing her tight. “You have me too.”

Connecting with Rafe’s family has actually been nice and somewhat healing. You know that his relationship with his family is still rocky. He’s been trying hard to show them he’s changed and so far it seems to be going well. Seeing that his family still cares about him after the things he’s done is refreshing to see. You wish your parents would have been as forgiving. 

Rafe had told you about his drug addiction but how he was already one year clean. You felt sympathetic when he told you, knowing that it must have been weighing down on him. “I get it if you want to break up.” You had just looked at him and leaned in to peck his lips. “I’m proud of you for getting clean. That must have been difficult to do.” You had shocked him that night, accepting him and his life for what they were. 

“Come on, we got to go.” Rafe’s voice pulls you back to reality. You give one last glance to the shop, waving to Wheezie as you walk out the door. Silently you and Rafe walk to the car not knowing what to say. Today’s the first case hearing and you are scared of how it’s going to go.

The past month has been a back and forth battle between Diane and Theo’s lawyer. Theo keeps stating that he was never aware of Violet and that you withheld her from him. Your refute with saying he was notified when you found out and then ran off without another word. It became a he said she said and no progress was being made. The month was completely stressful and Rafe felt like there was nothing he could do.

Getting to the courthouse, Rafe parks the truck, getting out of the car to help you out. Theo and Delia are already there with their lawyer. They watch as you and Rafe make your way to Diane and greet her. “Remember this is just a preliminary hearing. The judge is hearing both sides and deciding on what to do.” You nod at her words, not really feeling any better. 

The bailiff stands in the middle of the courtroom. “All rise for Judge Argent.” The judge walks in and sits in his chair, grabbing his gavel and slamming it down. “Court is now in session. We are here to today to listen to case #81493. The immediate full custody of Violet Dunn to Mister Wixx. I also see that there is an appeal from the mother as well.” The judge pulls his glasses down looking at both tables. 

Theo’s judge stands up, grabbing a folder and walking to hand it to him. “Yes, your honor. My client has not been able to see his child for two years due to the defendant not allowing it. She also withheld the information of him being a father. If my client had known sooner he would have taken action.”

Judge Argent looks at the lawyer with a neutral expression before looking back at the documents handed to him. “Furthermore my client has been under a lot of distress with this revelation. He had fallen into severe depression from missing out on Violet's life.” The judge closes the file and stares at Theo’s lawyer. “Any documentation of diagnosis or treatment.” The lawyer falters for a second casting a sideways glance towards his client. “Mister Wixx decided to take a no treatment route. It goes against his values.”

It was a nice save but the judge doesn’t seem to buy it. He goes to speak again but the judge raises a hand. Judge Argent looks at Diane and nods his head. She gets up and bows slightly to him. “Your honor.” She greets as she goes to hand him her folder. “My client's appeal is that she had in fact notified the plaintiff of the fact she was pregnant and he was a father. She is also claiming that the plaintiff was abusive during the relationship and believes he wouldn’t be the best fit for Violet.”

Theo’s lawyer stands throwing a hand towards the judge and moving to point at Diane. “Objection that is slander. There is no proof of these accusations.” The judge looks through the documents and looks at him. “Overruled. Continue Mrs. Simmons.” Diane looks at the other lawyer and smiles. “As you can see in the folder, there is documentation of the abuse Miss. Dunn had to face.”

“Those could be fabricated.” The lawyer shouts. “Mr. Campbell I will not tolerate your interruptions every five minutes.” The man’s face turns red. Maybe it’s from anger but you think it’s from embarrassment. “Mr. Wixx.” Theo straightens up and looks at the judge. “Yes sir. I mean your honor.” 

“It seems like you forgot your daughter's middle name in your paperwork.” Theo looks at his lawyer as the man gives him an ‘I told you so’ look. “What is it?” Theo moves in his chair and Delia places a hand on his arm. “Baby just tell him.” She thinks she’s whispering but you could still hear her. Theo looks at her and then back at the judge. “Um, I don't know your honor. She wouldn’t even let me know even after I begged.”

Judge Argent sucks his teeth, his eyes darting to you before looking back. “Yet she told you her name?” Theo swallows the saliva that accumulated in his mouth. “Uh actually…” he coughs trying to stall time. “Yes?” With a sigh he speaks. “I found out from someone else. She’s completely shut me out.” You fight the urge to roll your eyes at him. God can he get any more pathetic?

“Miss. Dunn, would you like to inform Mr. Wixx on Violet’s.” You look Theo in the eyes. “Ivey.” Theo just stares at you not knowing what to say. 

The judge puts away all of the papers and grabs his gavel. “I will look over the plaintiff’s and defendant’s documents. We will schedule a hearing two weeks from today. Court dismissed.” He slams the gavel and walks out. You and Rafe stand as Diane gathers her stuff and tries to usher you out. Before the three of you could even reach the door a voice called out.

“Abuse? Are you kidding me?” Theo comes rushing towards you, his face is beet red. Behind him is Delia and his lawyer rushing to stop him. “I advise you not to do this. There are still eyes watching.” Mr. Campbell whispers to his client to diffuse the situation. Your eyes locked with Theo’s. He straightens up, brushing the lawyer off of him.

“If you want to spread lies then go for it. You aren’t so miss perfect right?” He grabs Delia’s hand and storms out. Mr. Campbell scrambles along following the couple. “If he contacts you, send me everything. For now just keep doing what you're doing.” Diane walks out the courtroom promising to contact you in a few days to check up.

Rafe guided you to the truck and drove the two of you back to your house. He’s been staying there most days of the week and sometimes you stay at his. It felt like your lives were melding perfectly together. 

Vi runs up to the two of you,  squealing as she attacks Rafe’s legs. He picks her up, flipping her so she's upside down. “Already starting trouble? I guess the tickle monster is going to get ya.” He shakes her a bit before running to the couch to throw her on it. Walking behind them you hear her giggles. “Stop.” Vi laughs out as she tries to escape. 

“How’d it go?” Jo walks up to you, wrapping her arms around you. “Good, I think. We have another hearing in two weeks.” She brings you to the kitchen as Rafe and Violet play in her tent castle. “I’m going to need a little more than that.” She makes the two of you tea as you explain what happened. There were a few times where she wanted to go beat his ass but you calmed her down.

“Is his life so miserable that he had to come back to ruin yours?” She places your ug in front of you. “I swear he’s lucky I haven’t seen him yet.” You swallow the green tea looking at her as you think of what to say. “It’s not like he actually has a case, right? He was never in her life and doesn’t even know her.” Jo walks around the corner of the island. “Are you kidding me? The judge would have to be crazy if he gave​​ Theo a chance.”

She’s right. There’s no way that he would get custody of her. The rest of the night was slow. Wheezie had come over after work to drop off the keys, bringing along a large box of Pizza. “What’s this?” You laugh as you open the door. “Consider it my thank you for the job. But more importantly I was just hungry and thought I would help you out.” She didn’t stay too long, wanting to go out with some friends.

After putting Vi to bed you and Rafe lay in the backyard looking at the stars. “Give me a fact, space boy.” Rafe laughs at the nickname you gave him. “Stars don’t actually twinkle. It’s just how the light is deflected that makes it look like that.” His hand rubs your arm. You snuggle into him. “So Twinkle Twinkle Little Star is a lie?”

He chuckles a bit, you feel the vibrations in his chest. “Basically.” “Tell me another one.” Rafe lifts his head to look at you. Your fingers are picking at his shirt not meeting his eyes. “What’s wrong?” He watches as your fingers twitch before resting in the middle of his chest. “I’m fine.” He sits up forcing you to as well. “Is this about him saying you aren’t perfect?”

You sigh, pushing your hand to the grass so you can stand up. Rafe’s hand reaches up and stops you. “Come on, you can tell me anything.” He pulls you down so you are straddling his lap. “It’s stupid.” He brushes your hair out of your face. “Come one baby.” The intense blue of his eyes seem so bright even in the dark. “It’s just that I used to party a lot when I was younger to piss him off. I’m scared he would use that against me or something.” Rafe’s arms wrap around your waist pulling you tight to him. “You were young and wanted to have fun. What matters is who you are now.”

“I know, but I’m just scared.” His hand cups your face to force you to meet his gaze. “You shouldn’t have to apologize for being a normal teen. It’ll be okay.” You shyly smile as you wrap your arms around his neck. “You know I really like you, space boy.” He smiles at you, stealing a kiss. “I really like you too, flower girl.” You giggle stealing another kiss before getting up. 

“Race ya to the room. Winner gets to do whatever they want.” Rafe’s ears perk up, he stands up taking a step forward. “Anything?” You shrug taking a step back. “Guess you’ll have to find out.” 

✦✦✦✦✦✦

The bell attached to the front door alerts you that someone came into the shop. “I’ll be with you in one second.” You shout through the doors from the back. Wheezie had gone to the handy store to buy a new pair of sheers and took Vi along with her. It was only you in the shop so you have to do orders and help customers at the same time. “Just me flower girl.” You smile as you turn to watch Rafe walk into the back. “Where’s thing 1 and thing 2?” 

He places a bundle of flowers on the table next to you, caging you I with his arms. “They went to the store a street over to get something.” He smirks down at you, closing the gap to connect your lips. The two of you kiss, each movement of his lips seemingly melts your mind.

Your phone vibrates behind you, dancing along the table. “I should probably get that.” Rafe’s lips just meet yours again. “Let it ring.” He mumbles on your lips. The phone stops ringing so it seems like it wasn’t that important. His hands find your hips, lifting you to place you on the table. He sneaks himself in between your legs as he moves his kisses to your neck.

“They could be back any second.” Rafe just shrugs, pulling back to look at you. “Good thing you got that bell.” His lips go back to yours and you don’t seem to care anymore. Then the phone rings again. Fumbling around you reach for it to pick it up. Pulling away you both groaned at seeing it was Wheezie calling. Mood officially killed. You answer the call, putting the phone to your ear. “Hey wheeze what’s up?” Rafe plays with the ends of your hair as he waits for you to hang up. If his sister is calling it’s because she can’t find what she needs. He just needs to wait until you hang up and he can get back to his previous task. You straighten, pushing Rafe away from you. 

“What are you talking about? Is she okay? Where are you?” You’re panicking trying to scramble to get your keys and bag from your office. Rafe follows behind asking you what’s wrong but isn’t met with anything. You are out the door before he can even stop you. He catches up and stops you.“What’s going on?” Rafe forces you to look at him and he wishes he didn’t. The look of terror on your face is nerve racking. “She had lost Vi in the store and som-“ You choke on a sob as you try to calm yourself down. “Someone was trying to take her.” Rafe grabs your hand speed walking in the direction you were going.

Rafe can’t imagine the way you are feeling right now. If he was internally freaking out he can’t begin to think of how you are dealing with this. You turned down a street pulling him along with you. There is a cop car parked on the side of the road. With one officer talking to a woman as another is with Wheezie and Vi. Wheezie looks up to see you and stands up, holding Vi’s hand to walk to you. “I”m so sorry. I was comparing prices and then she was gone.” You don’t say anything just dropping down to the floor to hug Vi. You squeeze her tightly crying into her tiny shoulder. She’s safe in front of you but your brain still believes she’s in danger. 

“I swear I was paying attention. I looked away for two seconds. I’m sorry.” Wheezie cries to her older brother. Rafe wraps his arms around her to give her a hug. He washes as you stand up holding Vi and turn towards them. Him and Wheeze are expecting you to be mad at her.

But all you did was walk over to them and drag her into a hug. “You’re okay right?” The teen girl wants to tell you yes but that would be a lie. She breaks down in your arms , tears staining your shirt. “I'm sorry.” She chokes out as she holds onto you for dear life. You shush her as you rub her back. “You didn’t do anything. Everything is okay.”

You are trying to convince all of you that everything is okay. But deep down this is one of the scariest things you’ve experienced. “Are you the child's mother?” You turn to look at the officer standing behind you. “I am.” “Would you mind going to the side with me to discuss what happened?” You nod your head. As much as you don’t want to leave Vi, you also don’t want her involved in this even more. You go to hand Vi over to Rafe. “Wait, do you know that young girl?” You look at the officer who is pointing to Wheezie. 

“Yes I do. She’s my boyfriend's sister.” The officer nods over to the side and you both walk a little bit away. He whips out a notepad to write some things down. “So the teen girl who was with Violet is your boyfriend's sister.” You nod your head agreeing with him as if you didn’t just state that. “How long have you known her?” You think for a second. “I’ve known her for four months and she works with me at my flower shop. She’s always around Violet.” The officer… you look at his badge, officer Kent looks confused. He’s writing some things down, scratching his head before looking at you. “Okay well I suggest having her father meet them so that way we can avoid this mess next time.

It’s your turn to be confused. “I’m sorry, what did you just say? What does he have to do with this?” Officer Kent is looking at you like you have three heads. “Her stepmom happened to see Violet through the window and saw her with a stranger. She went in and grabbed her to get her away from the stranger.” Your blood is boiling. Leaning to the left you can clearly see Delia talking to the officer who was sitting with Wheezie. Standing straight again you look officer Kent in the eyes. “That is not her stepmother. She doesn’t even know my daughter.” He looks behind him and then tries to find what she said in the notepad.

“Well she said she was engaged to Violet's father.. Theo?” You sigh and shake your head. “Sadly he’s biologically her dad. He hasn’t been in her life since before she was born. Now he’s trying to get full custody. She’s met Vi once and that was for under five minutes.” The officer feels like he’s in a tough situation. On one hand he wants to help you out because he finds Delia crazy. On the other there isn’t much that he can do. “I still need to talk to the worker that was helping the girl out when it happened. But it seems like you have a good case for yourself. Let me go talk to the guy and I’ll find you after, but think about if you want to press charges.” You don’t know what to do. “Charges?” The officer places a hand on your bicep. 

“You could charge her with attempted kidnapping and child endangerment. Think it over and let me know what you want to do.” With that officer Kent walks to the front door of the handy store to meet his partner. You watch as they both walk in before walking back to Rafe. 

“I called Jo and she’s coming to get Vi. Is everything okay?” You nod and explain what the cop told you.  Rafe is fuming as he hears Delia’s side of the story. “What the fuck is wrong with her?” He looks down at Vi and apologizes to her. “Sorry sweet pea. Got a little carried away.” Vi looks unfazed by the cussing but yet again she seems to be unfazed about this whole thing. “Guys I promise I had eyes on her the whole time. I just looked away because I was asking the guy which one he thought was better. I was just trying to save you some money.” Wheeze nervously picks at her fingertips. You didn’t seem upset with her earlier but maybe that was the shock.

“Those split seconds are kids' perfect minutes to vanish.” She keeps her head down ready to be yelled at. “Next time just be more aware of your surroundings. I know you wouldn’t hurt her.” The young girl can’t help but to cry. She felt so close to losing everything.

Life hasn’t sucked as much since you came along. Rafe became the old him again which made her happy. She longed for him for so many years and now she has that back. Plus she’s never had a sister relationship like she has with you.

Yeah, she and Sarah are really close. They help each other out all the time and are best friends. But with you it’s different. It’s like your sister but she sees you as more. Maybe it’s because of your mother's instinct but she feels protected. After everything went down and she was holding Vi all she could think about is how much she fucked up. She knew that this could easily make you break up with Rafe and everything would be over. 

“Hey, hey it’s okay.” You go and hug her, looking at Rafe over her shoulder. You are both worried. “What’s wrong Wheeze?” He steps closer rubbing her shoulder. She sniffles and turns to look back at him. “I thought I messed everything up. I didn’t want to ruin everything for you.” Rafe’s eyes sink as he realizes that he was the cause of her distress. “You never have to worry about me Wheeze. Didn’t I pinky promise you that?” She giggles remembering his promise before she signed the adoption papers.

“I still do. I don’t want to destroy your progress.” Your eyebrows scrunch in at her words and Rafe’s movements freeze. You want to ask what she means but an annoying voice is talking behind you.

“Why was she with some stranger?” Theo is glaring at you as Delia stands next to him but slightly behind. “Because some lunatic tried to kidnap her.” Rafe responds watching in glee as their faces drop. Theo looks behind him sharply and Delia drops her head, staring at the floor. He looks back at you ignoring Rafe’s comment. 

“That tween is lucky it was just Dels and not some creep.” You laugh at his audacity. “Seems like those two go hand in hand. She didn't even know her and had the audacity to try to take her.” His face gets red but he still laughs. “Just wait until my lawyer hears about this. Great parenting Prim.” Wow he really doesn’t back down does he. “Theo, how stupid do you think a judge is? What are you going to tell the judge when I press charges?”

This seemed to knock some sense into both of them. Delia’s eyes snapped up. “Please don’t d-” “Delia!” Theo’s voice scared you for a second and you can tell it did the same to her. SHe backs away one more step. “It was a misunderstanding so good luck.” He swiftly turned around and grabbed her arm, dragging her away.

After Theo left the two officers came back out and found you. “Alright. The worker's story cooperates with your boyfriend's sister’s.” Officer Kent says to you. Nodding along your eyes to the other officer next to him. “So what does this mean?” Realistically you know that you can actually press chargers but you are confused as to what to do. “It means you can press charges if you really want.”

A car door slamming grabs your attention as you see Jo rushing towards you. Rafe squeezes your shoulder, giving the top of your head a kiss. “I’ll handle Jo.” Rafe meets Jo halfway explaining everything to her as he buckles Vi to her car seat.

“Do you know what you would like to do?” Your eyes go back to the officers in front of you. “If I press charges what would that do with our custody case?” They look at each other and then at you. Officer Kent scratches his head as he tries to figure out what to say. But for his benefit, his partner answers for him. “We really can’t tell you what would happen. It would be more in your favor than his based on what we know.” 

You nod still debating on what to do. You want to press charges but what if it goes nowhere? “If it was me I would press the charges.” Officer Kent wants to correct his partner but he has a point, you should. “When you got here your first thought was your daughter. Even though your boyfriend comforted his sister, his eyes never left the two of you. He seems to care about her but her father couldn’t be bothered to ask how she is.”

Tears well in your eyes at the confession. How is it that even a stranger can see how much Theo doesn’t care about her. “I want to press charges.” Your voice is small, feeling as if your life is taking the wrong turn. “How about you meet us at the station and we can go over everything there.” He looks over to where Rafe is entertaining Vi as he still talks to Jo. “Take a moment to calm down from the day. We will be there until six.”

The next hour is a blur. Jo had taken you all back to the shop so you could talk about everything. Wheezie insisted on still working to make up for her mistakes but you forced her to take the rest of the day off. You were going to close the shop anyway because there was no way you could keep working today. She played with Vi as you talked to Rafe and Jo. 

“She’s crazy. Who just takes a kid they don’t know?” Jo had some very vocal opinions on the two of them. “Good, press charges on her. Maybe this will be a slap of reality and they can fuck off to where they came from.” Very vocal

By the time the conversation was over it was around two in the afternoon. Rafe took you to the police station and waited as you went through all of the paperwork. By the time you were out the both of you were tired. On the way home you grabbed food and spent the night trying to unwind.

That’s how it's been for the past week and a half. Trying to unwind seemed pointless when you had a new hearing today. On top of that the case you have against Delia seems to be pulling teeth at this rate. Diane thinks it’s exactly what you need for the custody battle but only if the charges go through.

You woke up in the morning getting ready as you fight the anxiety that’s creeping in. Rafe had an early morning meeting so he’s planning on meeting you there. But based on him not answering when he supposed to be done means that’s not happening. As you were gathering your keys a knock on the door catches your attention. You walk over and open the door to see Sarah on the other end.

“Oh hey Sarah. What are you doing here?” You’ve hung out with Sarah a bit since the beach. But she’s busy with her friend and John B a lot. Seeing her show up unannounced is shocking.

“Um Rafe’s meeting is running later than he thought. I thought maybe I could help you out.” Your head tilts to the right as you look at her. “I could stay here and watch Vi so Jo can go with you as moral support. But I could also go with you if you want.”

She looks nervous even suggesting going with you. “I just don’t want you to be alone.” Her right fingers are squeezing her left ones, fingertips turning red for a split second. “Vi’s being really fussy today so Jo is going to stay with her.” Sarah’s blue eyes dart to the floor. 

“Oh yeah obviously. Sorry if this is weird.” She goes to turn but you stop her. “I wouldn’t mind some company though. I’m a bit nervous if I’m being honest.” Sarah smiles at you and extends a hand. “Well good thing you’ve got me.”

Your knee bounces as you wait for the judge to come. Diane is going over papers as you keep looking back to Sarah’s smiling face. On the right side Theo sits leaning back talking to Delia as if this is nothing. His carefree demeanor is scaring you even more.

What is he playing at?

Then in the blink of an eye his gaze flickers to you. A smirk is placed on his lips before he looks back at Delia. Oh he thinks he’s got this in the bag. “All rise for Judge Argent.” Just like that the world seems to slow down as you stand up and watch him walk out.

“Court is now in session. We are here to today to listen to case #81493.” He settles himself in his chair and hits his gavel. Looking between the two of you and the papers he sighs. “I’ve looked over the documents given to me. I want to give both sides a chance to tell me their stories themselves. Mr. Wixx please step into the witness box.”

Theo gets up straightening his tie giving you a wink as he sits down. “Please place your left hand on the bible. Do you swear the truth and nothing but the truth.” With his right hand raised Theo stares you in the eyes. “I do.” The court officer walks off to the side putting the book away as the judge turns his attention towards Theo. “Can you tell me about your relationship with Miss Dunn.”

“We knew each other our whole lives. Our parents were best friends so they forced us to be as well. Then as we got older it was us being a couple. I guess after so much pressure we just decided to do it and make them happy.” Judge Argent writes his response down. “At any point in the relationship were you involved with anyone else.” Theo almost scoffs, forgetting the facade he needs to keep up. “Never. At some point things became real for me and I fell for her.”

Your nose scrunches. He sounds like a completely different person then the one you knew. Who is this guy? “So you never once laid a hand on Miss Dunn in any instance, correct?” Theo’s right eye twitches. “I would never hurt her. I still wouldn’t, I just want to see my daughter.” He’s good. For a second he really had you fooled. Wanting to see his daughter is laughable. Especially when he never once tried to see her or ask about her. “She would create these crazy fights. Yelling and throwing things around because of a rumor she heard. After graduation I guess I was having enough and broke things off.” 

Judge Argent nods his head. “Have you ever had contact with Miss Dunn or your daughter since then?” He looks down. “I didn’t know I had a daughter until my parents told me after her birth. I tried to visit her in the hospital but she refused to see me and had them tell me she doesn’t want me a part of Violet’s life.” Wow he really has the sob story down packed. 

 “Do you have an explanation for the reason your fiance…” He ruffles through some papers, adjusting his glasses. “Miss Delia McLane taking Violet from a babysitter the other week” Theo flickers his gaze to his lawyer and back to the judge. “Delia thought Violet was with a stranger. She got scared that someone took her and tried to protect Violet.” The Judge leans on his forearms getting closer to Theo. “Isn’t that ironic. You may go back to your seat.” 

“Miss Dunn, please take the witness.” You go up and swear to tell the truth. Only this time you know it’s the truth being told. “Miss Dunn, could you please tell me about your relationship with Mr. Wixx.” You clear your throat. “We grew up together because our parents were best friends. Around freshman year of high school our parents were pushing us to be together so we did. At first it was fine, we thought it would blow over so we did couple things.” Judge Argent asks you to clarify. “We went on dates and had dinners with our parents. After it didn’t die down we gave in and actually just became a couple for their sake. A couple months later I found him making out with one of the cheerleaders at school. I forgave him and then a couple weeks later I was being told he was seeing someone else.” 

You take a deep breath. “It was a constant cycle of me forgiving him just to find out later he did it again. Every time we would fight about it and each fight just kept getting worse. At one point he had enough and started hitting me.” From the corner of your eye you can see Theo glaring at you. Behind him Delia looks horrified, but not because of what you went through. Bo because she doesn’t understand how you could create such a vile lie.

“I just let it happen because my parents didn’t believe me. I felt like no one else would so I stayed. Then when I found out I was pregnant I knew something had to change. I confronted him and told him he needed to be better for the baby.” You look him in the eyes, not letting him escape from what he did. “All he did was tell me I should just go kill it because he wouldn’t be a father. I told him I wasn’t doing that and he left. The next day he completely disappeared, leaving me a note telling me good luck being a single mother.”

The court room is silent for a moment, your words sinking in. “Has he ever had contact with you or Violet?” You shake your head. “No.He’s never once reached out.” You look at Diane who is smiling at you. “What happened with Violet the other week from your point of view.” You settle your emotions as you try to push memories to the back of your mind. “Violet and my boyfriend's little sister, Wheezie, went to the handy store for sheers. Wheezie works for me at the flower shop and wanted to give me a break. Then she’s calling me to tell me someone tried to take Vi when they were in the store. When I got there they were both okay but Delia, Theo’s fiance, was the one who tried to take her.”

Judge argent writes down some notes about what you said and dismisses you back to your seat. You ring your hands as you wait for what he’s about to say. “After hearing both sides I have come to a conclusion. Mr. Wixx I’m choosing to believe that you do want to get to know your daughter.” He stalls for a moment. “I decided that for a trial period you get visitation rights. A child’s service worker will handle the visitations but Miss Dunn you can be present if you choose so.”

You look over at Diane, this isn’t what you want. You don’t want him to be anywhere near Vi. “Your honor.” Diane tries to get in but he raises a hand. “I will not be talked out of the trial period. We will have hearings as well. After the trial period, only after, will I make a final decision.” Five months. He gave Theo five months worth of visitations to be near your daughter. At least he did one good thing. “Let it be known that Miss McLane will not be present in any visitations.”

Theo’s lawyer tried to protest stating that she will be Violet’s step-mom. The judge just reminded him that she also tried to kidnap said child and that made him shut up. The only good thing about this hearing is the fact that she won’t be near her. 

You and Sarah exit the court house trying to get to her car and leave. You are pulling your phone out to call Rafe when footsteps can be heard coming up to you. “So glad the judge could see through you. In no time I’ll have Violet.” This habit of his needs to stop, he won't get to you. “If you believe that’s true then good luck.” He’s left eye twitches, he wants you to fight him back. Delia places a hand on his arm but he shakes her off.

Looks like old habits die hard.

“Where’s that little boyfriend of yours? Bet he realized you aren’t worth it.” Sarah is ready to chew him out but she didn’t get the chance. “He’s right here.” looking to your right you see Rafe walking up to you. He gives Sarah a side hug before hugging you tight, giving you a kiss on the head. “Thanks Sar. Sorry the meeting ran late.” You just shake your head. “It’s all okay. You’re here now.” 

Rafe glances at Theo. “Come on. Let’s go get some food.” The three of you walk off leaving Theo and Delia behind. As you get closer to the car you look back to see him walking ahead of Delia. Looks like she’s trying to get his attention as he storms off. You may not know how he is as a person now but you do know one thing.

There’s no way in hell he’s getting your daughter.

Taglist: @haruvalentine4321 @namelesslosers @ijustwanttoreadlols @drewsphswife @corpsebridenightamare @actorslover @juniperbaies @fionaswifeyy @dark1paradise @stoned-writer @notafairyteen

let me know if you want to be added

[cigarettesaftersae]

Homesick 02

Sae Itoshi - 02 Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans - John Lennon

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Series: sae x f!reader | childhoodlovers!au

Stuck in a small town near the coast with a previous crush on a boy who returns after years

live laugh love life is strange🗣️imagine the camera is like max's because why not

After a small balanced breakfast, you head out the cafe to walk in the central park. Autumn colored leaves ravished the earthly ground, each step consist of crunches, and you fought the instinct to just stop and stare at everything gifted from Autumn to admire. You reached yourself to a bench, pulling out an old instant camera for scenery. You liked the vintage items, to swim in its own nostalgic aesthetic you’d seemed be fond of. The polaroid printed out embracing the trees and autumn leaves in view. The background painted the morning foggy blue sky, the lamps along the sideways warmly lit, and a squirrel eating nuts. That was your favorite thing in the photo, you smile softly looking at it and put it away in your bag for safety.

You were never an expert on cameras and photography, but you found it in the old treasure of your grandparents’ stash. Using it for these few weeks made life seem more admirable. You had an urge to take a physical copy of the moments you find unique. An instant click for an instant image of every pretty scenery you saw. You continue to take photos around the park, taking in the beauty of a moth on a tree. Its patterns looked perfectly so like the tree. The wooden bark similar to a fingerprint right onto the wings of a small life creature. Around the place, you thrill in its beauty by a single click here and there, ending up by the sea. It was quiet with seagulls croaking along the sky, the waves rushing within the gravel sand, beyond all that you notice a male on the edge of a cement floor behind some railings. He just sat there staring off to the ocean while the wind blew through his red hair strands. Wearing a long black trench coat, the material looked so well-done; was it by some expensive brand? Besides that, you took notice under was a white button shirt along with causal black pants. He seemed so simple yet elegant just alone existing. He looked almost familiar..

You grab out your camera to take a photo, the view shot was his side profile. You could notice every lock of his hair, the shape of his nose, mouth, and lips…and eyelashes? Very pretty long eyelashes..almost like that one boy. No…he disappeared…but his family was still around. Could this really be him? He was right there in front of you, not a distraction or interruption in sight but you walked away not wanting to take that chance.

Perhaps if you had, you could have learnt a nicer way to say your own name, even if he didn't know yours. You’ll just shatter your heart in every photo you click, swallow every sip of coffee bean, and shift your pillow closer to the moon. Follow this daily boring routine over and over.

—Yeah fuck no, never mind. Imagine if you say hi and he just looks at you and doesn’t even bother to say anything. A moment of silence and awkwardness just because you thought it could be that one boy you had a stupid crush on then disappeared and you also didn’t even go to the same school. Yeah fuck this.

You find yourself back to the place where you found him, he remained still lost in the vast ocean. In this serene, alone, and dull life, there had to be something. If this ends off embarrassing, you’ll be moving planets. Maybe Saturn. Or Mars.

“Usually I’m here sitting and relaxing, alone…”

Sae perks up his head at the voice,

…Was he seriously not going to say anything-

“I was here before you”

“I said usually, and I knew this place before you”

“I knew this place before you octopus, can you leave now?”

“You look like an octopus...” you mumble slightly pissed off. Now you extremely regret your decision of “trying” because all it resulted was you being insulted to an octopus. Octopus are cute.

Not even a word back, you worried if he heard you. Right now, he’s just staring at you as if he did hear you or thinking of something else to say so mean. No, he wouldn’t, anything mean would be blunt and on spot without a thought. How rude, an octopus seriously? You stared back into his teal eyes and took in every detail of the little spike of hair for his under eyelashes. It stood out so obviously yet so pretty. It was him.

“What are you staring at?” He said with a tone slightly harsh

“You’re stared first…What’s your name?”

“No” His beautiful teal orbs move away from you and back to the view of the ocean waves

What the flip.

“Well you been here long enough can you move? you’re ruining a great photo opportunity.”

“Not my problem”

“What if I just.. told Maria on you?” You almost studder on your words, slightly afraid to threaten him with such a childish manner

‘Maria?” His attention back to you, looks like that worked.

“Yeah…Maria..she’s like my secondary mother.”

“tsk..whatever.” Sae finally got up and walked mid-way before stopping and looking over his shoulder .

“Itoshi”

“huh..?”

“My name, octopus. Itoshi Sae.”

“Do you just like octopus a lot?”

He glared at you not a word back, waiting for something—

“Oh- ...My name is y/n.”

You turn around to face the coast slightly smiling, Sae began to walk away judging on the sound of his footsteps fading away into the Autumn breeze.

—

note:

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.

.

this is kinda short i'll probaly make another one soon

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Okay since we were talking about our beloved Lorcan earlier 😂

What about Lorcan falling in love with one of the newer fae in Aelin's court? Like a fae who took over for one of the Lord's after the war?

*smiles in evil fox* I had way too much fun...

Smartass

Lorcan always knew that he liked his females strong-minded. He liked the bickering. He liked the teasing it brought. A game of some sort. Chasing and catching. Charming. He wasn't picky about the looks. It's the brain that he valued. Had spent way too many nights in taverns, with ladies who only knew how to bounce their breasts but the words that came out of their mouths made him want to rip his hair out. He was sure his life was going to be doomed by careless messing around. One night adventures and fleeting the moment he was done.

But you just had to walk into his life. And turn his ancient world upside down. He was accompanying Aelin in one of her meetings regarding the reserved army she wanted to recruit. She said that she needed Lorcan as her formal army commander to run over the details with a commander of allay troops just in case.

Well, one thing Lorcan wasn't expecting was a female. Tight armor like a corset, pants that accompanied the high slits of your dress shirt. Lorcan had forgotten his name for a moment as he watched you walking towards them. "See something you like?", you smirked at the male, making Lorcan swallow thickly, your voice alone could send you to his knees yet all he said was, "No, but good to know that you're so full of yourself". You let out a chuckle as you walked past him. The scent of you made Lorcan growl slightly.

It was a torturous week. Watching you. Sensing you. Hearing you. You were a tough cookie. Every time Lorcan had tried to jab you. You had always come out on top. "There's no way to cross the mountain", he said in one of the last meetings of the day. You just turned to him, "Oh, really? You are now an expert in that too?", you chirped. Fenrys snorted across the table. That man had attended every single meeting now that Lorcan was being put in his place daily. "I've traveled through that area countless of times, sweetie", he swilled his drink in his glass, "You haven't even been born yet".

Crickets sounded across the room as you watched him for a moment. "Careful your old age is showing", you chirped, dabbling your nail on the map, "I can ask a healer to make you a tonic so you would not forget to button your pants in the morning".

Lorcan let out a warning growl, grip on his glass tightening. Even Gavriel let out a chuckle. You threw the male a sympathetic look, "Did I bruise your ego, baby boy?", "You're walking on thin ice, dove", he pointed a warning finger at you. You leaned over pretending to bite it, "I'm commander Y/N to you".

And this went on and on. As if you two were in a silent battle with one another. Leading one another on. Yet there was something about you. The way you laughed sent shivers down Lorcan's back. Even if you pissed him off, he still walked right beside you as you monitored the training of the soldiers. He listened as you spoke to his man. His gaze kept them all in line because, maker, help them if Lorcan sensed their thoughts going elsewhere.

When the time for you to go came, Lorcan found himself dreading the moment. His mood dropped then he saw you saddling your horse, humming under your breath. Yep, you were the prettiest, strong-minded female he had ever seen. "Came to wish me a smooth journey back?", you straightened your posture, and brushed your hair away from your face. Lorcan leaned against the wall of the barn. "Nah, wanted to cut your saddle's leather", he breathed, making you let out a laugh. Even Lorcan felt his lips curving upwards.

"And here I thought you genuinely liked me", you stepped closer to him, shaking your head. "I hate smartass females like you", Lorcan growled, predator eyes piercing at you. You nodded your head, before quickly pulling at the flaps of his shirt, yanking him closer to you. Your lips met his and Lorcan's hands instantly reached for you. It was desperate and messy. Your heart was beating so loudly in your ears that you couldn't hear anything else.

You pulled away breathlessly, "A parting gift of sorts", you muttered, brushing your finger over Lorcan's lips, trying to get the red tint off, "So you wouldn't forget just how much you hate me". Lorcan growled as you stepped out of his embrace, turning to walk towards your horse. "When I'll get my hands on you...", Lorcan called after you, voice deep. "Actions speak louder than words, commander", you chirped over your shoulder. So Lorcan stepped forward, more than happy to show you the power of his actions.

[angryschnauzer]

January 11th 2024

Yeah its been a while since i updated. I haven't had the energy to if i'm honest, but here we go.

Hubby had his brain surgery end of November '23. The tumour they took out was a nasty one, somewhere between the size of a golf ball and a kiwi fruit. The wound has healed well with little to no side affects apart from some double vision, but he was checked out for that and it is a common after affect of brain trauma and was remedied with an eyepatch for a few weeks.

We met with the Neuro Oncology team at Royal Marsden Hospital in London. They are one of the best (if not the best) cancer treatment centres in the whole country, and we worked through a treatment plan.

Just before Christmas hubby was also cleared to have shoulder reconstructive surgery (he broke his shoulder bone in the original seizures back at the end of October '23). There was a really small window of time between it being enough time after the brain surgery that he could go back under general anaesthetic, but also enough time to mostly heal before he started Radiotherapy and Chemo, so just 5 days before Christmas hubby was in and out of our local hospital in a single day to have that surgery.

Christmas was a quiet and subdued affair. I also herniated a disk in my back the day Hubby had surgery (i was clearing the deep freeze out ready for grocery delivery), so it meant both he and I were dosed up to our eyeballs on strong painkillers for most of the holiday, and Little Dude spent the majority of the break either playing video games or building his new lego sets.

Two days before Christmas i also had to have emergency dental work (i had been grinding my teeth and had previously cracked a tooth) and whilst i was in the dentists office some utter idiot crashed into my car. That was the last thing i needed but i simply handed it all over to my insurance company (who are aware of my husbands situation) and they arranged a hire vehicle and sorted repairs.

Onto the start of 2024. This is the first week of Radiotherapy and Chemo for Hubby. He is getting very tired and fatigued already from the Radiotherapy, but thankfully no nausea from the chemo as yet, but that could change over time. He is scheduled for a full schedule of 6 weeks of this dual treatment, where we are having to visit Royal Marsden every day Mon - Fri for the six weeks, and then he also takes the chemo 7 days a week for the six weeks.

He'll then have 4 to 6 weeks 'off' treatment for his body to relax and recuperate, but will have scans and MRI's during that time to gauge what further treatment will be, but its likely to be just chemo but a stronger dose, but no radiotherapy. The chemo is to be 3 weeks off one week on, so a 4 weekly cycle.

The one thing we have discovered isn't done is prognosis's. When we first got to Royal Marsden we were shocked as they started talking about years, and explained that although it was a really nasty tumour, it was found very early and whilst it was still relatively small for its kind. They've discussed things like 'this years treatment plan then we'll look at next years', and also for a while Hubby was being considered for a clinical trial which candidates who have prognosis's of 12 months+ are only considered for. In the end he didn't meet the criteria (his cholesterol was too high). The Macmillian Nurses also have been talking to us about Mobility Car assistance schemes where you can get govt assistance financially and get an adapted vehicle on a 2 year rolling lease. All these timings are reassuring in one way, but worrying in another - we have no idea what the future holds and it really does cement in stone that our time is limited and could end any moment, and makes it very difficult to make any long term plans. You don't realise how much of your life is preplanned until you end up in this situation and aren't sure if you can book your kid onto the school residential trip in 5 months time.

Should anyone want the mundane daily day-to-day life updates you can follow me on my personal instagram @simone_with_an_e its generally a load of utter boring bollocks, but i try to keep it updated daily with updates when i can as its a lot easier to do 1 short paragraph than a big update.

For me my mental health is a little better now that i've had time to process Hubby's diagnosis and that he is getting treatment. There are still days or hours when i fall apart, and it could be something as simple as listening to a song on the radio as i drive back from dropping Little Dude at school and i realise the song would be lovely at his funeral. I end up having to pull over and have a cry whilst switching the radio off. I'm loosing weight and aging quickly, my hair is turning grey from stress and i realised i've aged about 15 years in the last 3 from stress. My appetite comes and goes, and things like red meat now turn my stomach and i can't digest it. But i also haven't drunk alcohol since the day before Hubby had his seizure back in October. I feel like i need to stay 'alert' in case i need to rush him to the hospital for something. I don't miss it as such, but I miss the ability to fully relax. Its hard to describe but i feel like at the moment i've lost myself and am just functioning to care for those around me, going through the motions as such.

Anyway, this has been a long update. I do still lurk here, you may see me pop up in notifications liking something, but at the moment i don't feel its right to start putting fandom stuff back on here yet. I do hope to get back to writing at some point. I miss it and the unfinished stories plague my mind as i have such lovely plans for story arc's and really want to finish them.

Take care all,

Schnauz

xxx

[odyssean-flower]

The Winding Path of Fate Chapter 12 first part

honestly im not even gonna say when the chapter is gonna be ready anymore...it'll be done when it's done...

anyways here's the first part. It's unbetaed but hopefully it compels/entertains you in some way as I finish the chapter up

“My dear Iudex, are my eyes deceiving me, or is that a smile on your face?”

Neuvillette raised his gaze from the documents spread out before him. Furina was standing on the other side of his desk. Of course, he had heard her enter his office before she even spoke, but he was so used to her unannounced intrusions these days that he treated it as a part of his daily routine now. I only hope that she makes this quick. I have a rather heavy agenda today, and I would like to return home before dark.

Furina leaned over his desk, her heterochromatic eyes eagerly scanning the desk for some sort of incriminating evidence to grab onto. Of course, she found none. Neuvillette wasn’t so foolish that he would make such a careless mistake.

“Hmph, I didn’t know that paperwork could inspire such a joyous expression on one’s face. What a contrast you make with the Gestionnaires outside your door! You really must get out more.”

“Indeed, I have, thanks to your urging. I believe you’ve already read the note I left you.”

“Ah, yes, that sorry excuse for a note,” Furina sniffed. “‘Will be away for a day due to personal reasons.’ No mention of where you’re going or who you’ll be with.”

“I see no reason why I should have included either of those things. I followed all the necessary protocol for requesting leave, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“Oh, I am. But Neuvillette, aren’t you getting tired of constantly having to avoid my questions and fend me off every single day? You know exactly what I want, why won’t you give it to me? Are you truly intending to keep doing this forever?”

“And you know very well that I will not change my position on this matter. There is no need for you to get involved in my marriage, nor do you have the right.”

Furina and Neuvillette glared at each other silently for a while. Throughout this week, she had constantly needled, badgered, and pestered him in an attempt to fish for any information about his day off, but he remained an immovable stone wall. He knew that revealing anything to her would only pour fuel on the fire, so to speak. Knowing her nature, he doubted she would let this go any time soon, but he could at least not give her any openings to pounce onto.

“No right to get involved in your marriage, huh,” Furina repeated, arching an eyebrow. “Don’t forget that you have me to thank for it. Would you have ever even considered marrying this woman if it weren’t for me?”

Neuvillette did not say anything. They both knew the answer to that question.

“Even so, I do not owe you anything,” he said with a firm tone that signaled the end of their talk. “Now then, Furina, allow me to get back to my work.”

“Fine,” Furina said with a toss of her head. “It looks like I’ll be visiting you again tomorrow.”

“Please do so during my coffee break.”

Furina spun on her heel and was about to stride away when she suddenly turned around again. “You know, Neuvillette, I just don’t understand why you won’t let me meet the person who clearly brought you so much joy.”

Neuvillette narrowed his eyes at her. “I believe we were done here?”

Furina put her hand to her heart and made an expression of exaggerated joy. “How heartless! I do hope your wife never sees this side of you.”

He watched her until she left his office and the doors closed behind her. Letting out a heavy sigh, his gaze drifted to the misty painting hanging at the side of his office, almost by instinct. This was also something that had also become a daily routine for him.

He wondered what the painter was doing now. Around this time, you were sure to be in the garden, devoting all your attention to the sunflowers.

Were you waiting for him to come home? He hoped you weren’t. It looked like he would be returning late today. Well, to be honest, he usually returned home late at night, but now with you as his wife, it would be terribly uncouth of him as your husband to come home too late. In addition, he found that his willingness to work into the late hours had decreased considerably. Still, there were times when he truly had no other choice.  

But, there was a small part of him that would very much like it if you did wait for him.

Neuvillette did not know what to make of this new development in his feelings. He examined it, turning it over in his head as one would do with a particularly interesting-looking rock or seashell, then put it away for later. He needed to concentrate on getting through the stack of paperwork on his desk if he wanted to leave work earlier.

But before that…

His hand moved to his desk drawer, which contained a recently-delivered envelope. It was a stroke of good fortune that it had been delivered before Furina’s visit. He’d never hear the end of that if she saw its contents.

He opened the envelope and took out a stack of newly-developed photos. He flipped through them until he reached the photo of a young woman standing stiffly in front of an azure-blue willow tree. His finger idly stroked the edge of the picture. The colors were so vivid and crisp that he felt as though he could reach into the photo and touch the ribbon of your hat or the soft fabric of your sleeve.

It was strange. You were not a particularly cheerful or spirited person, but when he was with you, his heart felt lighter, freer. Not to the extent of forgetting himself or his responsibilities, of course, but… Was this what Furina meant by the “joys of matrimony”?

He couldn’t say he disliked it.

He carefully put the photos back in the envelope. What sort of face would you make when he showed them to you? Or when he showed you the other surprise he had for you? Would you smile at him once again? Would you take his hand in yours? A feeling of anticipation filled his heart. Unconsciously, his fingers brushed against his cheek.

The sunflowers were coming along nicely. They now reached the height of your hip and formed small, tightly closed buds. There were no yellow petals peeking through yet, but you were confident that they would appear in the coming weeks.

You brushed your fingers against the leaves. They were the size of your palm now. You could see little bug bites dotting them. Perhaps you should ask Marie if there were any pesticides on hand.

It was evening now, though the sun was still in the sky. Neuvillette should be back by now. Maybe he had a lot of work today? You couldn’t help but feel a sting of disappointment. You had been looking forward to showing him the buds. Was Furina pestering him again?

It had been a week since the date. Neuvillette had sent the photos out to be developed, and you would be getting them today. You were a bit excited to see them.  I don’t think I’ve ever taken so many pictures in my life.

After you finished taking the last measurements, you returned to the house and went up to your room. Your eyes automatically went to the plump azure flower tucked into a vase on your desk. It brought a vibrant splash of color to your elegant but sparse room, and you liked looking at it. It gave you a sense of pleasure. You wondered where Neuvillette put his flower.

I wonder if it will deflate like a balloon if I stuck a pin into the middle, you thought as you sniffed the flower’s cool fragrance. That would make it easier to press, wouldn’t it?

Perhaps it was because you talked about pressing flowers on the date, but it had been on your mind lately. Your fingers itched for your old flower press, sitting in your closet back home. The lily would look striking against a white page. If only you picked some of those wildflowers you had seen on Erinnyes and in Merusea Village... they could serve as accompaniment to the lily, which would obviously be the centerpiece, and a strand of blue leaves from the Weeping Willow could be the finishing touch, forming a wreath that framed everything neatly. It would be a beautiful memento of one of the most beautiful days in your life.

It was strange. Even though your days went on like usual after the date, you felt a little different. A little lighter. Reinvigorated, if you had to describe it in a single word. Your childhood hobbies, which you once considered frivolous and backwards, beckoned to you once more.

For a long time now, you felt like you were barely holding yourself up by the sheer force of will, like a sunflower with shallow roots and a too-heavy head, in need of a support to stand tall and erect. Well, now you did have one.

I guess this is what marriage all about. Two people supporting each other for life. Although, it is rather one-sided in our case.

You bit your lip. It was irrational, you knew. Neuvillette was the powerful and respected Iudex, while you were an impoverished baron’s daughter from the countryside. Your presence in his house was proof of just how much more you relied on him than the other way around. You knew that Neuvillette didn’t expect anything from you, which only made you even more determined to do something for him.

You despised the feeling of owing someone. You hated having to completely depend on someone. That was one of the many reasons why you chose your career path.

But more than that…

Neuvillette’s distraught face flashed through your mind. Though you only saw it once, you never wanted to see that look on his face again.

Neuvillette finally returned home by the time the sky was dark. You had already eaten dinner without him and was reading in the parlor when you heard the front door open.

“Neuvillette,” you called out to him as you went into the foyer. “You came home so late. Did something happen?”

As you approached him, you thought that he looked a bit fatigued, but the tiredness in his face seemed to vanish as he fixed his eyes on you.

“Madame,” he greeted you. “My apologies for worrying you. I had a rather busy agenda today. I hope you’ve already eaten dinner?”

“I have. But have you eaten as well? If not, I can warm up the leftovers for you, or I can ask Marie to cook something fresh if that’s what you prefer.”

“No need for that. I’ve already eaten. But there is something else I want to talk about,” Neuvillette paused. It took you a moment to realize that he was doing it for dramatic effect. So even he has that side to him...how cute, you thought, trying to hide your smile. “I was able to receive the developed photos today.”

He took out an envelope from his coat pocket and handed it to you. “They turned out quite well, I must say,” he added.

The envelope was thick and heavy. You must have taken more than a hundred photos.

You decided to look through them in the parlor. Neuvillette followed you, and the two of you sat side by side on the couch as you spread the photos out on the coffee table. Neuvillette was right, they did turn out well. You had been a bit worried that they might come out blurry or at odd angles, but overall, they all looked pretty good, considering the fact that you hadn’t used a Kamera in a long time.

“You have a very good eye for photography, Madame,” Neuvillette remarked as he picked up a photo of the Weeping Willow. “Have you considered pursuing a career in that field?”

“Oh, not at all. My old drawing teacher was much better at it than me, enough to make a living out of it, and she taught me a few tricks.”

“‘Was’? Do you mean...” Neuvillette trailed off.

“Yes. It was a few years ago.”

“Ah...I see. I'm sorry to hear that.”

There was a brief, awkward silence. Neuvillette looked as though he wanted to say something more. You would rather not deal with that, so your eyes roamed around the scattered photos on the table before they landed on something silver. “Oh, my pictures of you!” you said, leaning forward to grab them. “See, what did I tell you, Neuvillette. There’s nothing more picturesque than beautiful scenery and a handsome man.”

Neuvillette leaned closer towards you to examine the photos for himself. His hair brushed against your shoulder, and you could feel the heat of his body against your arm.  A thought suddenly struck you. If you turned your head right now, your lips would brush against his cheek in the same spot where you had kissed it before.

Inexplicably, your face turned warm at the thought. The back of your hand tingled.

Perhaps things didn’t quite remain the same after the date.

It truly had been a spur of the moment move. Your roiling emotions, aided by the instigation of the Melusines, had pushed you to do it.

Later that night, as you laid in bed, your mind replaying that scene over and over to an infuriating degree, you had rifled through all the emotions you had felt at that time. Embarrassment, disbelief, a strange sort of elation…

But the one emotion that had been missing no matter how hard you searched for it, was regret.

Overt acts of affection had never been your forte, but it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

Well, cheek kisses don’t inherently mean anything significant, you had told yourself. Friends do it with each other all the time. And Neuvillette is my friend. A very dear friend. So it’s perfectly fine. Case closed.

Indeed, Neuvillette didn’t seem to look at you or treat you any differently after the fact, so why should you? No doubt he was used to receiving such acts of intimacy—most likely even more intimate—from people who were far more glamorous than you. A brief brush of lips against his cheek probably meant nothing to him.

As for the hand kiss, well, that was something that gentlemen like him did. It also didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t.

The thought that these kisses were all meaningless did sting a little bit, but considering the circumstances, you had no right to complain.

“I must confess that I do not see what makes these pictures any better than the ones you took of the scenery,” Neuvillette’s voice interrupted your thoughts. His eyes were fixed on the photo, so thankfully he didn’t notice your reddened cheeks. “Or of the Melusines, for that matter.”

“Well, even if you don’t appreciate them, I do. I’ll treat them like a family treasure.”

“A family treasure? That’s a bit excessive, is it not?”

“I don’t think so. These are pretty rare items, aren’t they?”

Since Neuvillette didn’t appear in public much, there were not many pictures of him outside of the rare interview and official events. Hmm, I wonder how much they’ll sell for? Not that I would ever do that, of course. …Well, maybe if I’m in dire financial straits. I’ll ask for Neuvillette’s permission beforehand if it ever comes to that.

You went through the remaining photos. Each one sparked a memory. The Weeping Willow, the sea, Merusea Village underwater—you really had been to all of those places. With Neuvillette, no less. The entirety of that day was only known to the two of you.

The days after your date had been so mundane and normal that you were half-convinced that it had all been a strange dream. Thoughts and memories were such mutable things, after all. Someone like you on a date with the Chief Justice? Not even in your wildest delusions would something like that ever happen. But these pictures were proof that it did.

You knew that you would probably think back on that day for the rest of your life, holding it close to your chest like a treasured gemstone and taking it out whenever times got tough. A sparkling memory of your youth that you would smile back fondly upon in your autumn years, a lone glimmering star in the dark that would inspire you move forward…

Wait, why am I getting so sappy and sentimental? Just because of a date? Ugh, come on now.

You glanced at Neuvillette, who was currently enjoying a glass of water (imported from Inazuma). You doubted that he felt the same way as you about the date. It was probably just like a drop of water in a vast ocean to him.

That thought pricked at you, but you chose to ignore it.

You sifted through the pictures until you came across a certain snapshot. Just as you were about to flip it over, a gloved finger pressed down against the photo, stopping you.

“This one is my favorite,” Neuvillette said. Once again, his face was right next to yours, but you couldn’t read his expression.

“Because you were the one who took it?”

“No,” he said, then turned his head towards you. “Because it’s of you.”

“Neuvillette…” you said after a short silence. You fidgeted with your reddened fingertips. “I don’t understand how you can say things like that with such a straight face.”

“Is it truly so strange?” Neuvillette looked perplexed. “I was simply saying my true feelings. And it is not as though you have refrained from such comments either.”

“You do have a point,” you conceded, although that still didn’t mean it didn’t catch you off guard. You turned your attention back to the photo of you. To be honest, it didn’t turn out half bad. Sure, you looked incredibly stiff and awkward and your hair was a mess and you had no idea what you were thinking when you matched that sweater with that skirt, but…it could have turned out worse.

“May I keep this photo?” Neuvillette asked.

“Of course, but what will you do with it? Surely you aren’t going to put it on your office desk or anything, right?”

“No, of course not. I would put it in a drawer, so I may take it out and look at it whenever I like.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Is it so wrong for a husband to want to look at a picture of his wife every once in a while? Many of the Palais staff also keep pictures of their loved ones on their desks. Why shouldn’t I?” Neuvillette paused for a little bit before adding, “And it would be one way for me to see your face more often, considering how I don’t get many chances of that during the day.”

“Hmm…very well, then,” you didn’t quite get why he would want to see more of your face, but if it made him happy, then you supposed there was nothing to complain about. Neuvillette is actually quite good at this kind of thing, you thought to yourself. Just imagine what it would be like when he gets married to someone he loves.

Now you really felt bad about your (hypothetical) future plans about selling Neuvillette’s photos. I’m an insensitive boor compared to him.

You reached the last of the photos. It was the one of you and Neuvillette standing in front of the sunset.

“You made two copies for the both of us,” you said as you looked at them. “How thoughtful.”

As you gazed at the pictures, you couldn’t help but feel a complex mixture of emotions. There was a surrealness to this photo that the others lacked. If this were a novel, this would be the point where you would wake up and return to reality after discovering something out of place in your life. No matter how you looked at it, you and Neuvillette were mismatched. Two people who were only brought together because of a weird quirk of fate.

But on the other hand…it was a beautiful photo. You had been somewhat worried that the two of you wouldn’t be centered in the frame, but it turned out well. The sunset made for a lovely backdrop. Even though both of you were looking very stiff, and neither of you were smiling.

You remembered that moment clearly. In those few minutes, you felt as light as a feather, like there was nothing tying you to the ground.

Would you ever feel that way again?

“I’m also very fond of this one,” Neuvillette said next to you. When you turned your head, you saw that he was not looking at the photos, but at you. It was then that you realized you were smiling. For some reason, you turned your head away.

“I just realized something,” you said, to cover up the awkward moment. “I’ve taken so many pictures, but I’ve got nowhere to put them all.”

“Ah, about that,” there was an excitement, subdued but present, in his voice. He sounded the same as he did when he introduced you to some new exotic variety of water. “I have a surprise for you. Please, come with me to my study.”

A surprise from Neuvillette? You had an inkling as to what it could be, but that didn’t stop you from putting all the photos back in the envelope and following him upstairs to his study, a domain you had yet to step into. It was a smaller version of his office at the Palais Mermonia, with its large desk, soft rugs, and tall bookshelves that lined the walls. There was also a fireplace here and a cozy-looking couch.

As Neuvillette went to take something out of a cabinet, you covertly examined the shelves. They were mainly filled with books on law, human psychology, history (most of which you’ve already read, having borrowed them from the library), and other similarly serious topics. Oddly enough, you spotted a few children’s picture books. Gifts from the Melusines? Or for entertaining them whenever they visit?

“Madame, here it is,” Neuvillette said, and you walked over to the desk, where there was a large, leather-bound album with metal corners.

“Oh, Neuvillette, you shouldn’t have!” you exclaimed, flipping through the album. There should be just enough space to put all the pictures from your date in it. You looked up to thank him, but was met with the sight of Neuvillette taking out yet another album from the cabinet. This one was wider, with a ribbon tied into a neat bow on the spine. Perhaps Neuvillette bought a second album, just in case the first one wouldn’t fit all of your pictures?

But, as though to dash all reasonable explanations, Neuvillette took out another album from the cabinet, then another. It seemed never-ending, this deluge of albums. After a while, it became sort of funny, like a comedy sketch. You watched, open-mouthed, as the desk became covered with albums of all shapes and sizes.

Finally, after the tenth one, the deluge stopped. Neuvillette looked at you expectantly. “Well, Madame, which one do you prefer?”

“Wait a minute, let me get this right,” you said, backing up a step and surveying the desk. “You bought all these albums just for me to choose one?”

“Yes, I did,” Neuvillette said, nodding as though this was a perfectly normal thing to do. Was this how the minds of the wealthy worked? It was beyond your comprehension. “I was unsure which one would be most to your liking, so I decided to buy them all.”

“Oh, Neuvillette, you really shouldn’t have…” you said. “This is too excessive. Why didn’t you ask me to come with you when you went shopping? And you know I’d like anything you picked out for me.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise…” Neuvillette said. He looked a bit deflated, and you felt bad.

“Can you return them?”

“It would be highly inconvenient for the shopkeeper if I did so,” Neuvillette said, then added in an abashed tone, “And I was told that all sales are final.”

“How unfortunate,” you looked down at the desk again. Was it possible for anyone to fill up all these albums in their lifetime? Maybe if they had a lifespan as long as Neuvillette’s. “Maybe they could make an exception for the Iudex?”

“I would rather not use my position in such a manner.”

“Well then, how about we give them away?”

“Give them away…” Neuvillette considered your words. “I-I suppose that could work… it is a reasonable idea. Yes, quite reasonable indeed.”

Neuvillette…if only you could see the look on your face right now. He looked like a kicked puppy. However, you decided to hold your tongue.

“Hmm, on second thought, it would be quite rude of me to give away presents from my generous husband,” you said. “I’ll keep them all. Thank you, Neuvillette.”

You patted his hand. He looked down at your hand on top of his, his eyes unreadable. He lightly brushed his fingers against your own.

“You need not force yourself to accept them if you do not want them,” he said quietly.

“But I do want them. They’re from you, after all. We’ll just have to take plenty more photos to get your money’s worth.”

“‘We?’”

“Yes, ‘we.’ Did you expect me to fill up these albums all on my own?”

“Certainly, it would be more efficient if we worked together,” Neuvillette nodded to himself. “Very well, then, Madame. I will assist you in this endeavour.”

With that settled, you decided to put the date photos in the first brown leather album. It had a vintage look to it that you liked.

“It’s getting late, Madame. You should be going to bed soon,” Neuvillette informed you.

“What about you?” Neuvillette didn’t seem to be making any moves to retire for the night just yet.

“There are a few more matters that I need to take care of, but do not worry, it won’t take very long.”

“Okay then,” you nodded, stepping towards the door. But just as you were about to leave the study, a thought suddenly struck you. “Oh, by the way, Neuvillette.”

“Yes, Madame?”

“Has Lady Furina been bothering you about…about me lately?”

Neuvillette blinked. He was silent for a moment before speaking. “She has. But it’s nothing for you to worry about. I’m quite used to handling her.”

“But…”

“There is no need to worry, Madame. She will never need to know about you,” Neuvillette’s tone was firm. “I will do my utmost to make sure it stays that way.”

“…Alright,” you said, but it wasn’t relief that flooded your heart. “Good night, Neuvillette.”

“Good night, Madame.”

You closed the study door quietly behind you.

[manias-wordcount]

There do be not enough roy mustang stuff out there and i crave fluffy angst for him. All i can think of though is the "i thought you were dead hug". Probably not out in the open, given his position, but possibly as a form of love confession in private. I love your writing by the way. You're my go to for good anime fanfics.

O' Colonel, My Colonel (Roy Mustang x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗶 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗶𝗺 𝘀𝗼 𝘀𝗮𝗱 𝘀𝗺𝗵 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗛 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗶𝘁!! ;]

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

The door closes behind you with a heavy thud. You manage to finish your salute just in time to hear the final note in its symphony.

  You’ve heard it so many times it’s hard to forget. You’ve memorized the sound. Every creak and groan and its place. And it used to annoy you. Used to make you grimace every single time you had to take a trip down the hall to this office. But by all things holy, you’re more than glad you got to hear it at least one more time. Because now that you’ve heard the sound?

  You feel like you can finally breathe.

  The files tucked beneath your arms are heavy. And standing at attention has never been your strongest suit as just an administrative secretary. But his office is exactly as you remember it during the hours such as these. The hours when the sun starts to crawl on all fours and the sky gets painted shades of fiery reds and oranges and pinks. The hours when those will a little too much pay for their very few responsibilities decide that they’ve done enough sitting around for the day. And the hours when people like you and him had only truly begun to start working. His office looks exactly the same. And you know why you thought it would change. But it didn’t. It didn’t change.

  The man who owns this office is the face you wanted to see once you opened the door. It’s the same face. It didn’t change. 

  You’re so happy it didn’t change.

  “Lieutenant Colonel Mustang.” You greet lightly, unable to hold off the small smile that adorns your face. It’s hard keeping up the decorum when your nose is filing cabinets daily rather than speaking and working with the officers like your co-workers usually do. But it’s even harder for you to keep the formalities in check now that your superior is watching you from behind his desk with a smirk of his own dusting across his lips. It flusters you- something that he notices all too easily as he tosses up an eyebrow at you. And so, with warm cheeks and a tight throat, you’re forced to address him once more. “I have the files that you requested.”

  Despite the fact that you want nothing more than to run away and hide now that you’re the object of his amusement. 

  Fortunately for you, he’s merciful. At the mention of the folders tucked beneath your arm, he leans back in his chair with a nod of approval. The motion allows for his jacket to shift ever so slightly on his body. And your eyes manage to catch a glimpse of a worn, white bandage wrapped around his neck and collarbone before you avert your eyes. You’re glad he’s back. But it doesn’t change the reports of what happened out there while he was out in the field. It doesn’t change what he experienced.

  It doesn’t change what you thought you knew to be true when there had been no sight of him for over a week.

  “And that’s why you’re my favorite. Timely as ever.” The sound his voice makes as his hum carries over the room has you shivering. The look in his eyes is too proud to let you hold the false hope that he doesn’t recognize what he’s doing to you. And his posture is too relaxed to say that he’s not below picking on you now that it’s after hours and you’re both alone. But you should have known that after all his time alone, he wouldn’t change. “Excellent work. I’ll take them on my desk.”

  Especially not towards you.

  You try not to let the praise affect you that much. You’ve been a secretary for the Military since around the time he joined. You’ve watched him rise through the ranks quickly. Sometimes from afar. Sometimes up close. But at the moment, you’re overwhelmed. More overwhelmed than you’ve ever been in front of any of your superiors- including the Führer. 

  Your throat is tight, and your mind is elsewhere. But could you be blamed? When the status reports three weeks ago said that he had gone missing after a fight with an unknown assailant, you thought for sure you would never see him again. But as you stand in front of him now, you realize that your hands are shaking. More than they did when you shook his hand and introduced yourself to him for the first time. More than they did when you were told to start preparing the paperwork for a Lieutenant Colonel who had gone MIA and likely died on the battlefield. 

  More than they did when you first heard that they found his bound- barely conscious but somehow alive. 

  Yet here you are, walking to the side of his desk with a handful of files that you can’t be bothered to understand why he would deem them more important than his rest and recovery right now. And yet here he is, rising to his feet and stepping out from his chair to meet you as you approach him.

  You’re swallowing your thoughts as you stop to stand a respectable distance away. You have so many questions. So many things you weren’t told because of your clearance. But you don’t ask any of them. You don’t ask any of your questions. You just avert your gaze from his face and present the files to him in the way that you were always taught. Back straight and standing tall. Using two hands and reading nothing that you know you’re not supposed to. You have so many questions, but honestly, you’re not sure you care enough about them. You’re not sure you care about them at all. You’re just glad he’s back. 

  You’re just glad he’s back.

  He takes the files out of your hands gently without another word. For a second, you stand there, eyes still down as you await the sound of him dismissing you. But it never comes. Instead, you stand at attention for a moment longer than the first. And then another one. And another one. And another. And another. And another. And another until finally…you decide to look up.

  And the sight you’re met with- it surprises you.

  Mustang stands with his back straight. Proud and strong as his head turns to the side and reads the documents you just passed off to him. And while you know you’re not supposed to, you couldn’t help but study his profile. The curve of his nose. The shape of his jaw. And the distant look in his eyes. The shakiness of his grip. The unsteady frown on his lips. The sweat beading at his brow. The uneasy-

  Another thud sounds. Light, but it’s not without its weight. Not without its bass. Half a second later, the sound of papers scattering in every direction fills your ears. And all too quickly, the sight of it too.

  “Colonel Mustang?!” You exclaim in alarm. You hadn’t even noticed the pile of papers slipping from his grip with your gaze and mind being elsewhere at the moment. Your look around you briefly- noting all the papers that had fallen. Luckily, things haven’t seemed to have traveled far. You spot a few by a couple of papers nearby the empty desks abandoned by his subordinates from the day. But most are still on or thrown around his desk. You try your best to remember all the places where the papers had fallen just out of view before turning back to address your superior and his health with the utmost brevity. “Is something wrong? Do you need me to call a doctor or your-”

  You lose the words on your lips. Except they weren’t lost. They were taken. 

  By your superior. By a Lieutenant Colonel. By the flame alchemist. 

  By a man once presumed dead as he closes his arms around your body and holds you like you’re the only thing that will keep him alive.

  And so not only do you lose your words. You lose your breath. It catches in your throat before behind swiped away at Mustang’s speed and strength. And not only do you lose your breath, you lost your thoughts as well. No longer do you think about the papers scattered around the two of you. No longer do you think about how you’re due to report back to your workspace soon. No longer do you think about anything. Anything that isn’t him. Because you know you shouldn’t.You know you shouldn’t do this. You know that you’re breaking all kinds of rules and formalities. You know that if someone were to open the door right now and see him holding you tight and holding you close, your positions could be in jeopardy. You know all this.

  But his breath against your neck is sending more shivers down your spine as he buries his head into your shoulder and he breathes in your scent. And his arms around your torso are so, so tight and so warm. And the body you’re pressed against? It’s alive. It’s alive. Is it well? You’re not sure. But all you care about now is that it’s alive, and that’s human, and that it's him. So you tell the years of training and traditions and rules and regulations to fuck off for just a minute. Just one measly minute.

  And you hug him back. 

  And he hugs you tighter. 

  And you hug him, just as tight.

  And he breaks. 

  Because he’s more than just your superior. He’s a full-bodied human. He might have more confidence than you. He might like making you feel shy and small in front of someone so powerful. But He has thoughts. He has needs. He feels pain. He fights against death. He’s human. And what’s wrong with giving someone a hug? What’s wrong with showing someone that you care? Because you do. You do care. You care so much. You care so much that it hurts.

  “I thought about you every day out there. I don’t know why but I…I just did.” His whisper is quiet and hushed against your skin. But you swear you can feel every single word he says as his lips just ghost above your skin. But you don’t respond. You just find a way to squeeze your arms around his shoulders just a little tighter. And you try to pretend that his words didn’t make your heart race in a way that only he’s capable of doing to you. He squeezes you tighter too. The warmth of his palms pressed against your body can be felt through your uniform. It makes you want to cry. “I’m sorry I called you out here. But I had to see you. I had to. I’m sorry.”

  “Colonel-” You begin, tears already dusting at your eyes but he doesn’t let you finish. 

  “Roy.” He interrupts. You breathe hitches, and his grip on your body adjusts, almost as if he’s afraid of you becoming a flight risk now that all bets are off the table. But you just let you sniffle you’ve been holding in fall out as your fist grabs at the fabric of his uniform with all types of fear and desperation. He relaxes into that touch of yours. He breathes a sigh of relief that doesn’t quite go well with your tense body. But he’s quick to finish what he started. Especially now that you’re holding him as much as he’s holding you “You can call me Roy when we’re alone. And forget about all the respect and superiority bullshit. I don’t care how many rules it breaks, I don’t want to ever see you salute me agai-”

  But you had something you need to finish as well.

  “I thought you died.” You cut him off in your own harsh whisper. The words come out clearer than you expected. Stronger than you had known yourself to be capable of. And more true than you had ever hoped. But you said it. You said, and it’s too late to take it back. Your heart feels heavy at the confession. Your tears start to roll down your cheek at the admittance. And when all is said and done, you almost can’t believe that it’s true. That you almost lost him. That you almost lost the man that had taken your heart so, so long ago. “I thought you were dead, Colonel.”

  And that he’s now in your arms, confessing that he thought of you. 

  “I know…”

  Even in his darkest hours. Even in his worst moments.

  “I thought you had died… Roy. I thought you were….”

   He thought of you.

  “I'm sorry.” He tells you.

  You want to laugh. You want to laugh as much as you want to cry. Who would have thought that this stupid long-term crush of yours would lead you here? But most of all? You just want to hug him. Holding him. Feeling him. His heartbeat. His breath. His warmth. His body. His everything. Because maybe if you hug him this tight, you’ll gain the courage to tell him the thing you’ve been dying to tell since you first realized that you had fallen for him. And maybe hearing you speak those words will make him say the words you desperately want to hear from him. Since the moment you knew this crush wasn’t going away. Since the moment you heard, he had gone missing and would soon be officially declared dead. And since the moment you had heard he was alive and well and waiting for you in his office.

  Or maybe…maybe you won’t say a word. Maybe you won’t say anything at all.

  Because maybe feeling your arms around his body is all that you need right now. Because maybe his arms around your body are all that he needs right now too. Because maybe there’s nothing either of you could say that is worth more than the touch of another when the sun sits low. The hold of another when emotions climb high. 

  Because maybe words work the best when they are spoken at all. Either way, You’re glad he’s back. You’re glad he’s here. You’re glad he’s alive.

  And for now, that’s more than enough.

[jolalibrary]

xi. goodbyes can be sweet

javier peña x f!reader | chapter eleven of nowhere to run

chapter warnings: season three narcos spoilers. idiots who confess they love one another. no use of y/n. mentions of smut. feelings. angst. word count: 5.2k.

AN: welcome to the long awaited last chapter. i was going to do an epilogue, but instead, i've included the one-shots that i wrote for this and posted unbeknown to you all because i needed the fluff. .

dedications: thank you to @yeyinde for listening to me go back and forth about this, and to every single person who has missed this.

“Be safe.”

“You worried about me?”

Your fingers trace his cheek, knees digging into his mattress—the sea of your things behind, both the amount you grabbed the night he brought you here from his office, and the following nights since when he’d told everyone you were sick.

In a sense, it wasn’t a lie. Not something far from the truth.

“I’m worried that others will be looking for Guillermo Pallomari, yes.”

His lips find yours—chapped, yet soft. All telling, a thousand promises he knows he shouldn’t speak, but he kisses to your mouth all the same.

“I’m not leaving you, baby. I’m not done with you either.”

Lips curling into a smile, you brush your thumb over his cheek. “You’ll need Salcedo.”

Javi thinks he’s endured bad days—has practically collected them at this point.

Yet, he still somehow seems to find more.

He’s noticed how he manages to bring more of them to his cabinet, them lining all up, sitting on a shelf, twinkling at him like trophies. Instead of highlighting his accomplishments, they remind him of his failing. They don’t bring him joy. Instead, they wound him, slice into him—thinning him out and wearing him down.

Each day clutters itself to the next until he finds himself almost ready to collapse under the sheer weight of them.

The only reason he manages to keep standing is you.

Each day of hardship is made considerably better by the fact when he can, he can fall asleep beside you and wake to another day with you pressed against him. Whether in the morning (when the sun tries to peek over the buildings) or in the night, when the shadows begin whispering and the thoughts of what he could do, should do, all don’t stop.

It hadn’t been intentional—you moving into his. Yet, you have. Him loading the car up that night, you a shell of a person after the conversation with Fiestl. How you’d looked haunted, broken down, cracked open until all that made you you was scooped out.

You don’t have to do this.

That’s what you’d said, a duffel in his hand, your eyes shimmering, ready to paint your face in another wave of pain.

I’ll be okay on my own—I’ve done it before.

When he thinks back to it, he’s not sure what irked him more. The fact that you’d told him that or the look on your face when he’d entered that room and had you pressed against him, shaking, crying, sad.

He’s glad he was able to convince you in Spanish, and then in English, that you had him. That he wasn’t leaving without you, almost sliding his suit jacket off and rolling up his sleeves to demonstrate as such.

Now, you’re in his place—healing, helping.

It’s a reason why he’s staring at your desk—a new daily occurrence he’s added to his to-do list since you’ve been on leave.

A moment, more minutes than he can afford to burn, spent staring at it—how empty it is, how it’s been collecting dust over the last week or so.

Thank Stoddard for me. For approving my leave. I think you should be thanking me, cariño. I’m the one who gave him the order. I think I’ve been thanking you a lot.

He misses you being here. The way you help, aid—give your opinion. He could call. You’re in his apartment after all—the one kindly offered to him to be a puppet, to be a trophy, to be a body, but not a voice.

Snorting, Javi can’t help but think of your voice that first day he met you: not a glass prison. You hadn’t been wrong then, and you weren’t now—the papers in his hands were proof of it.

Rolling his jaw, he feels his hand tighten around the file—the one creasing, almost scrunching—when his sight is blocked. Fiestl, all of a sudden, there, loitering, hanging in the doorway—his eyes barely able to meet his outside of things Javi requires him to do.

“It’s none of my business, Fiestl.”

It leaves his tongue with purpose. Intent. Trying to draw a line where he can because he’s not sure he can hold himself back if he doesn’t. It had taken a day before you unloaded, let out the combination of rage, sadness and grief—your bones growing weary, tiredness suffocating you until you slept the day away, and he found you in the same place he’d left you when he’d gone to Cali.

It’s a sight he wouldn’t so easily forget. It’s why he supposes he’s looking through his brows at him, tilting his head to the side to drive it further home.

Javi can see Fiestl is battling—either with whatever is rolling around his head or his better judgment.

“I know, sir.”

Chewing his cheek, Javi pushes out a breath from his nose, closing his eyes, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. A list as long as his arm to enact, put into place—such as putting the word sir on a banned list, unless it comes from your lips.

“Just wanted to ask… see, I guess, if she’s…she’s okay?”

No, he wants to bark.

Almost does. Every part of him alight, fury mounting, spreading like lava that coats and ruins. The file in his hand—the drafted indictment—is almost cast aside because even if it’s not his battle, even if you’ve asked him not to get involved, he wants to.

Needs to.

That thrum, that pounding in his chest—the feel of your tears soaking his skin through his shirt—that first night when you shook and shook in his arms, in his bed, because you’d been hurt so fucking bad.

It makes him want to move around the desk and prod three fingers into his chest to drive the point home. He doesn’t. The title on his door is one of the reasons, the other being the shell of a person he remembers he’d had to leave in his sheets days ago—the one slowly becoming more and more you like as hours away from here tick on.

“No. No, Fiestl, she’s not okay.”

When he opens his eyes, he almost recognises it. The struggle, the battle—how it diminishes and skates inside the younger agent. He remembers it himself when the line got blurred when the need to win had reached a new pinnacle. Things shattering, never able to be repaired.

Javi straightens, standing up, placing the file down.

“I should have told her.”

Sighing again, but this time louder—Javi focuses all his attention on keeping his face unreadable, stern. Not that it matters, he’s not sure Fiestl is even aware, his hand on his hip, shaking his head—pity and guilt stitched into everything he wears now.

It's the only reason Javi softens, choosing to slide a hand over his chin, swallowing his annoyance, and putting it aside. “She’ll forgive you. I’m sure.”

Snorting, Fiestl looks up. “Nah, she won’t. But I don’t blame her. I… I wanted to get them. Make it right. I… I sent her there and I… it doesn’t fucking matter.”

Opening his mouth, he almost answers.

He almost spits out that he understands, and gets it—the edge a person can reach when doing the right thing. He swallows it—leaves the story buried where it’s supposed to be. Not needing gossip, more whispers, more things being muttered when he enters a room.

“You wanted to do good, Fiestl. You didn’t know when he approached you. Did you? I mean, fuck, when you asked for her to help, yeah, that’s an asshole thing, but she’s...”

Fiestl stares, either not knowing, or not wanting to know—both things he remembers seeing himself in the mirror when he’d been sent back home. The way he felt about himself and how it bled out, tainted everything else, tinged who greeted him back in the reflection.

How it attached itself to his clothing while he wrestled with the way people talked about him—and to him—seeing it now, all alive again, but this time etched, living and breathing in a solid person in front of him.

“She’s smart, brilliant—more than the two of us, right?” Javi continues, hearing a snort, low and underneath the shifting guilt. “And… she knows you’re a good agent. Told it me herself.”

Biting his cheek, Javi finds Fiestl doesn’t take his eyes off him—as though waiting for the words to be taken back that leave his mouth.

“Just… just fuckin’ learn from it,” he adds. “One day, she’ll forgive you. And in the meantime, maybe you can begin working on forgiving yourself.”

Something Javi realises you’ve said to him once before.

Alcohol burns differently when he coats his throat in the third mouthful in the last few seconds without reprieve.

Anger keeps mixing, churning, with the bile in his chest, all of it rising and falling—ebbing and flowing, bubbling and thickening. He’s alternated between clenching his fist and digging his thumb into the side of his skull for the better part of ten minutes—almost to the point he’s sure there’s a crevice there now, a hole, something else he’ll have to carry around with him.

Swallowing, he coats his throat in another mouthful—because it’s never enough.

Never. Ever. Enough.

He’d almost shattered the glass in his office door when he’d stormed back in. He had been close to breaking the buttons on his phone when he dialled his apartment number, only not crunching the receiver when you answered—all sweet, kind and full of snark when he said it was him.

Javi didn’t tell you, but a part of him figured you’d know deep down.

Your suspicions mounting anyway, ideas rolling, coming out in broken snippets as the two of you make heads or tails of his day.

It was different to know the two of you were right. As he’d said in the ambassador’s office, a part of him had been clutching to hope—that this time would be different, better, and more able to own the title of hero. Or at least be able to know he’d done good.

You should tell that part to grow the fuck up. You should be happy. You played the system like a goddamn fiddle. You won.

Shaking his head, Javi rolls his eyes. Something akin to grief melding into disappointment as he lets his head roll back, chin lifting to the ceiling, blinking and blinking—a part of him hoping he’d wake up, that this was a dream, a fucking nightmare.

It isn’t. The paper cut still throbbing on his palm is proof of it. His jaw slid side to side, thinking of the last few days—of the things he’s read and learned.

“Hey?”

Snapping his sight to the door, Javi takes a breath when he lands on you.

You all decked out in jeans, a shirt—likely one of his—open, barely buttoned over a t-shirt, looking the most casual he’s ever seen you in his office. Your shoulder leaning, face bare, but in his eyes, you’ve never looked better. You’re less weighted, less worried, your teeth not gnawing at your bottom lip, and stress isn’t scratching its way into your bones, even in his presence.

But in your hands, that’s what makes him smile: a coffee and a piece of fucking fruit.

Light blasting through the darkness, piercing holes in the mist that had begun descending since he found himself back in his office. The cage, the prison—the name and title on the door, which meant fucking nothing.

“Hey…” he replies, placing his glass on the desk, the base of it meeting the desk, sounding loud in the quiet. “You should know, I won, apparently.”

You snort, and he hears it thickly. If he thinks hard enough, he's sure he could even feel it on his skin. His eyes watching you as you move further around the doorway, still leaning, still keeping a distance. “I’m guessing it doesn’t feel like winning, though, does it?”

“No, cariño. It… fuckin’ doesn’t.”

Shaking his head, he runs his hand over his face—palm catching the tip of his nose—before he blinks, finding you still watching him, eyes narrowing, working him out, solving a puzzle.

“I didn’t… I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“You seemed like you needed the friendly face. And a pick-me-up.”

He tilts his head, considering your words. “Who knew putting people behind bars would be so rewarding—and easy.”

Your eyes hit him, sliding yourself further into his office, placing down the cup and fruit on the side table before folding your arms. “I think if it were easy, you wouldn’t have come and taken the job—just an observation, but you seem like a masochist. Or, you seem to love a good challenge, Peña.”

Snorting, Javi looks up—moving around the desk, tugging at the loops of your jeans as he turns you from the glass walls.

“Well, I did like breaking you down.”

“I think it was me who broke you, sir.”

Lips curling into his cheek, he jolts you by your waist. “Such lies, baby,” he whispers, brushing the words over you, ghosting them over your lips.

He could sink into you. Move you to his desk, reenact an earlier night shared months ago—when feelings weren’t spoken off, and the two of you pretended things weren’t heading to where they are now.

But, the day is running through his head. It travels round and round. Distracting him. Pulling him back from falling into you—something he usually finds he can do easily.

Has been able to the last few days.

Even when it means doing so when you’re asleep in his bed, curling you towards him, pulling an arm over him, until you wake—sleep laced on your voice, movements barely solid. Glad you’re back, sir. Glad you came back to me, Javi—

“Javi?”

Swallowing, he blinks. “Why—why are you really here, cariño?”

Chewing your cheek, he feels you let out a deep sigh before staring up at him, all bold and unafraid. “You don’t believe that I’m here to cheer you up?”

“If you were, you’d be wearing less.’

You laugh. And fuck, when you laugh, he swears the world gets a little easier. It heals the chip in his shoulder and tries to smother the lousy day with sunshine and sweetness.

“Alright. Remember this morning when you asked me to think about things? Well, I have.”

“Okay…?”

Taking another breath (more shaky, troubled), you smile. “I’ve thought about how I know you have things you need to do. For you. And, I’ve thought about how I want to be the person you walk away from all of this with—side by side, y’know? That I know we’ve talked on it, but when you hang your tie up—when you’re done… done. I want to be there.

“And, I thought about how, for a while, I have stayed here for all the wrong reasons, a part of me feeling like to do that, I had to sit at that desk and help.”

Rolling your lips, you gently take his hand in yours—it all so smooth, warm, a piece of himself unsure if he deserves it. You’re good, kind—having been hurt by things he knows he’s been around. A butterfly effect, a choice that’s rippled out and somehow hurt you.

But he doesn’t move from it. Instead, the gesture cracks him, feeling something fall within him—doubts, the twisted idea that he’d forever be alone—all crumbling from the edges of him, slipping and falling, the last pieces of it turning to dust, leaving him more raw.

Clutching his fingers tighter, you hold his stare more intensely. “But I don’t think I need to be here, in this building, for that to happen, do I?”

“—Wait—“

“Javi, I quit.”

Dipping his head, his fingers brush against your jaw, staring into your eyes, watching and feeling your lips curl into a smile. “W-what the f—“

“I rang Stoddard this morning. Asked him to put it on your desk—it was something I drafted up ages ago, before you. I just… didn’t get rid of it in case you needed me to leave the building or something.”

Scratching your neck, you smirk. “Knowing your level of organisation, it’ll be under a sea of other shit. But, it’s okay, I’m okay—I promise. You protected me long enough while I decided… you giving me time off, just in case? But, every morning, I wake up thinking I’d feel the itch to come back, but I don’t. I feel done—really done. I can’t… I can’t bring her back, and I can’t get any more justice for her.”

His mouth opens, but closes soon after. Because he’s not sure he has words. Not sure there is even any.

So, he whispers your name—not Luna, not any of the other names the office calls you. Yours. All soft and gentle—clutching your hip as he brings you close. The same name he colours the air with when you’re bare, full of him, fingers digging into his skin as your hips connect with his.

“I told you then,” you continue, “But I’ll tell you now. I’m not done with you.”

Your hand slid around his waist, fingers flattened to his lower spine. A look on your face that’s so endearing, he wants to brush his fingers over it, capture it in all the ways he can.

Then, the scent of you meets his nose—soothing him, coating him, travelling up, moving his shoulders from his ears. It adds to the way your body curves around his, settling his earlier frustration.

“Not done with you either.”

“Good,” you whisper.

His palm cups the back of your head, pulling you close, your smile against his neck, giving into his need to hold you easily. Intimate. Delicate. Romantic.

He’s so lost in it, how good it feels, that it takes him a second to feel you kiss his neck, light, barely a touch—before leaning back. “When you called me… you found out things, more things, right?”

“Cariño…”

“You don’t have to tell me—I don’t work here, after all. But I know you. Know how you tick. Whatever it is, we’ll find a way,” you say, half-smiling, “You know why? Because you’re a good person.” Your eyes holding his, staring—all intense, almost burning. “You have a voice—a nice one, if I do say so myself—so do good.”

He nods in partial disbelief that you somehow always know—that you get him, understand him. He’s also unsure how you always have the right words to say, when you barely know the mountain of shit he’s uncovered. Him realising that whatever he did, whatever he saved, whatever he found out, it was all for—

“And I think you know that there’s more than one way to get your justice, Javi. So, don’t let them tell the story,” you add, lower voice, an almost whisper. “You’ll always be the bad guy if they tell it—and you’ve gotta stop letting yourself be the villain, when you’re the fucking hero.”

He shakes his head. The word wounding him, hurting.

You must tell, must be able to know, because you pull him flush against you. The minimal gap gone, removed, your face stern, almost unreadable.

“You are, Peña. Don’t let your self-deprecation taint the good things you’ve done.”

Letting out a heavy breath, he nods. A sudden desire to bury his face into your neck rising, a need to have you close, feel your pulse against him—anything to distract him from the way your words both make him feel and light something in him.

Because, he knows you’re right. Even if he feels he’s barely scratched the surface of repenting for before, he knows it—how deep it all goes. How there are only so many options, he has left.

Instead, he strokes your cheek: his person—the person who introduced themselves as someone who’d find ways around problems. And, even without being here, without knowing everything, you somehow still do.

“Do you know what you need to do?”

Biting his lip, he nods, gradually pressing his forehead against yours. Closing his eyes slowly—almost in the same way he did this morning when you were curled against him, fingers swirling around and around on his chest.

“Good. When you're done…” your hands sliding up his chest, looping at the back of his neck. “How about after we go make lemonade? Build non-white picket fences and… ride horses?”

His lips curl. “You want to go to Texas?”

“With you? Yeah. I think I’ve been thoroughly convinced.”

His palm slides up your cheek, brushing the tips of his fingers against the hairline against your face. “Fuck, you really must like me.”

“Shut up, Peña.”

“Say you like me…” His other hand gripping your waist, keeping you against him, lost in you—the way your lips curl, desperate to slide up into your trademark smirk.

The one which embedded itself into him the moment you shot him with it.

The one which he liked waking up beside this morning—secretly hoping for many more. A secret, which apparently, has been answered.

Please. He thinks to himself.

Running the tip of his nose against your cheek, he hears the softest rumble of a laugh in your chest. “Say it, cariño.”

“I love you… sir.”

“Not your sir.”

Your fingers wrap around his chin. “Javi, you’ll always be my sir...”

“I love you too.”

Smiling, you wear it with such softness that it spreads to your eyes and lives on your lips. He nods, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. Tasting coffee and sugar.

“I’ll wait at yours?”

“Sure, yeah. I’ll see you there later.”

You nod, “I think they’ll cancel my Visa soon.”

Swallowing, he sighs. “Lemme guess, you don’t want me to use my charm to keep you with me for a bit?”

“I’d love you to, but you have more important things to do. Don’t you?”

He does.

Especially if he wants to build fences and spend evenings losing himself in tasting your skin.

Winking, you roll your lips. “Plus, I never cashed in my own favour with Stoddard.”

The air felt different when he had left the building.

Adrenaline thumped through him, pounding, matching how his heart hammered itself against his ribs. His hands grabbed at the things that mattered—leaving the array of files, the notes—only forcing the few post-its you’d written as he forced them into his trouser pocket.

He brushed his hand against them when he saw you leaning against the vehicle, waiting—a pair of his shades on your face as you folded your arms.

If he closed his eyes, he could still see the grin that appeared on your face when he told you what he’d done. That he’d met with Carolina Álvarez, that he’d planned to tell his story. He also rather likes playing back a version of how you’d shown him how proud of him you were—eyes all wide as you found a place between his knees, cheeks hollowing, his thumb swiping the spit from your chin.

One day, he’ll admit to you that’s when he felt he had succeeded. He felt like a winner when he got to peel your clothes from your body, when he got to spread you out over the sheets, the blinds open, the city lights flickering as he sunk into you.

Now, he’s surpassed that feeling as he strides towards you. The building behind him was slowly forgotten with every step—the regrets still clinging to him, the fact that he wished he could have done more for those who had to pay to bring down the godfathers.

But for that moment, as he strode towards you, he fixed and focused, only on you.

“I want you gone, Peña. So do the Colombians.” “I understand, sir.” “Any aspirations you have for your career, have been dragged behind the barn and shot.” He smirks, thinking of you—of that smirk you used to shoot him. Copying it, smothering it over his face. “I resigned from the DEA this morning.”

There had been a thing that powered through him as he strode closer and closer, almost able to smell your perfume before he even reached you. He thought back to the way it wormed itself into him when you’d stood in his office, calling it a glass prison. When it burned itself into his sheets the night he took you back, you left before the sun came up.

Now, it’s woven with him. Your hand in his on the armrest of the aeroplane seat—your knee bobbing, teeth biting the inside of your cheek.

“Didn’t know you didn’t like flying, cariño.”

“Maybe I’m regretting travelling to Texas. You thought of that?”

Tightening his hold on your hand, he grips it—feeling you do the same back. “Not gonna let anything happen.”

“You going to fight turbulence, now?”

Grinning, he leans closer. “For you? I’d try.”

Shaking your head, he watches as your knee slowly stops bouncing—your fingers still tightly holding him, nails just about digging into his skin. He doesn’t care; you could force them in more and make him bleed, but he wouldn’t be bothered.

He’s happy—content.

Something settled in him, something he hadn’t known if it would when he’d got on the plane back out here.

Your head turns to meet his as the pilot speaks, Javi just watching as your lips curl up into a smile.

—and I have some information about our flight—

“You ready, sir?”

—Our flight time today will be—

He thinks of telling you he’s been ready for days, weeks. Javi even tries to think of something witty.

Instead, he places two fingers under your chin, eyes focused on the way the corners of your smile drop, as he responds only by kissing you—openly, freely—doing so until he feels you laugh against him.

And fuck, does he want to feel you laugh against him for as long as he breathes.

You’d expected to like Laredo, but not as much as you do. It’s nice, warm. It's a different heat than Colombia, in a way you couldn’t explain.

The mornings are different, calmer, yet busy. Your days spent at an old dining table, boxes and boxes of receipts, papers and forms—because apparently Javi’s disorganisation is inherited.

When you break for lunch, you hunt for him. Moving past the animals, the fences he’s helped repair, your fingers brushing through the grass, tickling your palms as you head towards him.

Today, his back turned, the shirt he’d left wearing earlier now coated in sweat patches and earth. If not for the environment around you, you could easily place him back in Colombia. A thought the two of you must both have, but never talk about.

And that’s the problem.

One the two of you share. Some unspoken bond, rippling between the two of you—shaking, thrumming. It is there being plucked by lack of sleep and sorrow.

You hadn’t been sure at first if he felt the same, until you began finding him watching the river the same way you did. Then you wondered if he, too, spends the minutes before dropping off to sleep thinking about how you both could have done it all differently rather than looking back in gratitude that you both made it out.

You’re glad you did. You’re glad both of you did.

Being here helps. It healing. Repairing.

Javi’s father being the exact person you expected him to be: kind, loving and protective. All qualities that run through the man you love.

As you near him, a smile graces your cheeks on command—it’s always easy to smile around him—has always been, but it’s been easier since being here.

“Look at you, feeling all unemployed and lost with yourself.”

Sliding your arms around him, you catch the last embers of a snort and a smirk as he looks at you. His body is still turned, pointed in the direction it usually is when the boats go by. A thing you know, spot and see too.

“I’ve got a job, cariño.”

Humming, you sigh. “I wouldn’t blame you, y’know? I get—”

“No. I’m not—I’m not going back.”

You bite the inside of your mouth, digging it down until you begin to taste copper. Because there’s honesty rising in you, it there, itching, scraping—

Desperate to escape.

Because you love him, love the life the two of you could have. Fear is doing its best to keep you apart, sleep deprivation adding another bow to its arsenal.

“I see them too,” you mutter, finding his face shifts, his brow arching. “What, you think you’re the only one with eyes, Peña?

“At first, I’d begun writing when they’d go past. See if I could spot a pattern—old habits, right? It helped before when I had nowhere to run.”

He nods, so much understanding hanging behind the yellow tint of his shades that it hurts. Almost punches the breath from your lungs.

“But, the more I looked for one, the more I could feel all this slipping. Realising I didn’t want that, I had no reason to run or fix or save. I didn’t—don’t—want to lose the light—that fire you sparked in me in your office—when you basically told me you wanted me here.”

His fingers slide against your arms, palms brushing until fingers clasp at yours.

“I think we have to talk about it if we want it to work here,” you say more softly. “We both…. Gotta stop keeping the other out for the sake of saving face. Cause, I’m struggling too, Javi. I’m not…. I feel bad, guilty. Like I should be doing more than baking and taxes and…”

“Being happy?”

Nodding, you bite your lip. “Yeah.”

“Just feel…. Fuck.”

“That we didn’t win?”

Nodding, he chews his cheeks. “But, we didn’t lose either. Did we?”

“No,” you say, sliding your hand in his. “We didn’t. This is why we have to try and talk about it—so we don’t lose what we won.”

He nods again, tongue tracing over the front of his teeth. “You’re one hell of a winning, baby.”

More words swing, spreading out, all unspoken, but they’re there in the air. In his eyes. In yours.

“And you make me happy too.”

Snorting, he rolls his eyes before he pulls you flush against him, pressing a kiss to your forehead, against your cheek, against your lips, until your bodies are flush, and his eyes stare into your soul.

“I’ve rang them—about the boats.”

I know, you think to yourself—because you’ve rang to tell them too.

His chin rests on your head, arms tightening around you. “I love that you’re here. That you chose this.”

“I know, sir. I know.”

“Less of the sir.”

But this time, compared to the others, you think he means it a little bit less. Especially with the way you’re sure you can feel him grinning.

Post Nowhere To Run One-Shots:

I wrote these during the series and I was meant to wait to post, but the darkness was dark and I needed the light. So, enjoy these as they were intended.

▸ coming home

▸ dancing in the kitchen