#maybe he’s had his ‘own’ horse for a little longer too

[latinokaeya-moving]

what do you guys think kaeyas horse would be called :-)

[munsonsmixtapes]

Save a Horse

Tyler Owens x fem!reader

summary: you and your best friend, Tyler decided to test the waters and take your friendship to the next level, unbeknownst to the both of you that you’re in love with each other.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v)

The bar was hazy when Tyler walked into it, a line dance already in formation. He didn’t even want to be there, but he was trying to make himself actually get out there again. He hadn’t been on a date in what felt like ages, so he was a little rusty, but a few beers should have fixed that. Despite his looks, he wasn’t very good with the ladies. Any time he would try to flirt, it came off offensive or borderline sexist because he got a little too cocky. But this was his night. He was desperate to get laid, his hand no longer doing the job.

He made a beeline for the bar and ordered a beer, surveying the area for whoever he was going to take home for the night. There were a lot of pretty women and he was trying not to be picky. This was just to get him back out there. The sex didn’t have to be good and it certainly didn’t have to mean anything.

His eyes locked on a pretty blonde that was on the other side of the bar, barely visible through all of the dancing bodies. She was already staring him down, sipping on a drink with a straw and Tyler was wondering what else she was willing to suck on. He downed half of his beer and made a beeline for her, trying to go around the dancing crowd so as to not get caught in it.

But then he heard something, someone who stopped him in his tracks. He turned his head to the left and sure enough, there you were, arguing with someone like you always seemed to be doing.

You were beautiful. So much so that he couldn’t help but stare. You were dressed in a black tank top that was tucked into a pair of very short denim shorts and a pair of black cowboy boots were on your feet. Before he could stop himself, his feet were gaining a mind of their own as they carried him over to you.

He finally stood at your side, but you were paying him no attention, your argument with the stranger still going strong. You looked seconds away from pulling out your earrings and hitting the man. And as much as Tyler knew he should have stopped you, he kind of wanted to see you do it. You had a bad temper you never took out on anyone who didn’t deserve it.

“I don’t understand why you won’t just give me a chance,” the man said. That seemed to unleash something in you because you stepped closer to him, nothing but fire in your eyes. Tyler wasn’t a fan of how he still found you so hot when you got angry. The way your eyes would be filled with fire and your nose would twitch and your mouth would twist as you were trying to decide what you were going to say next.

There were so many times where he wanted to kiss you when he had done something to upset you. Clearly nothing had changed since he was staring directly at your mouth, watching your lips move. They were painted with a red gloss, making them even more inviting. But nothing was coming out of them. The place was loud but not loud enough to where he couldn’t hear what you were saying when you were only like a foot away from him.

“Maybe because you slapped my ass?” You replied, surely seconds away from beating this guy up. Tyler’s eyes widened, hurrying to stand beside you before he could stop himself.

“You did what?” He asked in shock.

“You bent over to grab a pool ball that fell off the table and you’re saying I wasn’t supposed to smack it?” Tyler cracked his knuckles, wanting to hit the guy himself.

“Yes,” you and Tyler replied in unison. You turned to him and he looked good. Almost too good. The scruff on his face did him well and the cowboy hat on top of his head looked far better than it should have. His white t-shirt clung to his body and you hated how much his jeans hugged his waist.

You wanted him, and bad. So much so that the man had been the starring lead in your fantasies that you had come up with every night before you went to bed. You had been in love with him for years, wondering why you hadn’t asked him out when you had the chance. He was so sweet and caring and you wished that you had been the one he had flirted with when he had a few drinks in him.

“And who are you?” Tyler asked, draping an arm over your shoulder. You loved when he got like this, all authoritative, taking control of the situation. If it had been up to you, you would have taken him right then and there.

“Who are you?” The man replied as it he had the right to be angry with either of you. Tyler felt the need to protect you, even though he knew you didn’t need saving. He just wanted to drape his arm over your shoulder to let everyone know you were his.

Well, that was what he wanted you to be. You had never gotten to that point and it was all his fault. He had been too afraid to make your friendship something more. He was stuck in the friendzone where he had put himself for years, kicking himself for not asking you out the first night he met you.

“I’m her boyfriend so I suggest you move along before I have Enrique throw you out.” You could take care of yourself just fine, but something about Tyler always jumping in to protect you always made you feel a little wet in your panties.

The man just muttered something under his breath before turning away, not wanting to get kicked out again. With him gone, you turned on your heel, heading back to the bar to order a much needed shot with Tyler hot on your heels.

Tyler couldn’t help but let his eyes drop to your ass, and watching it move as you walked in your tight shorts was torture to the man. He always found himself wanting to get a handful for himself, sliding his hands into your back pockets as he kissed you until you were breathless, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You’d let out a loud moan and he’d grab you by the backs of your legs, helping you wrap them around him-

You stopped at the bar and ordered a drink before turning to face Tyler as shots of tequila were set on the bar, as if the bartender could read your mind. You reached for both and handed one of them to your best friend.

“Drink up, Owens,” you nudged him and you both downed the shots, feeling it burn all the way down. You both slammed the empty glasses down on the bar and you eyed him, wondering what he would have said if you had invited him to the bathroom right that second.

There was something in his eyes that you couldn’t quite make out. A look that you didn’t recognize in any way, shape or form. They were soft and sweet, just like you remembered. In that moment, you could feel your anger towards him falling away. You could never be mad at him for too long, especially not when you looked into those beautiful green eyes and this time, you could tell that he wasn’t trying to use that to his advantage.

“Thank you for that,” you said, nodding your head towards where you both had just been. “And to thank you, I’m adding your drinks to my tab.”

“That’s real sweet, darlin’, but you don’t need to thank me.” That nickname always managed to make you absolutely melt, loving the way it fell from his lips so naturally. “Just your friendship is enough,” he winked.

“Oh, shut up,” you went to shove his shoulder, but he was quick to grab your hand, pressing a gentle kiss to it.

“Alright,” he took another sip of his beer. “Dance with me,” he said, tilting his head up a little.

“Dance with you?” You had no idea what he was talking about, wondering if he was expecting you to read his mind. If you had been able to do that, you definitely wouldn’t have been working at the bar part-time.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Dance with me as your thank you.” He couldn’t be serious.

“Yeah, not happening,” you shook your head. One thing you didn’t do under any circumstances was dance. A ballet recital gone wrong when you were ten made you swear off the activity entirely, never wanting to be embarrassed like that again.

“No way.”

“Fine,” he took another sip of his beer. “Then I’ll just dance by myself.” He slowly headed to the dancefloor, giving you every opportunity to back out if you didn’t want to do it. His hand moved back, his palm facing you as he continued to head to the dance floor, wiggling his digits to get your attention.

You rolled your eyes even though his back was to you and reluctantly put your hand in his. Tyler pulled you out onto the makeshift dance floor and the two of you somehow ended up directly in the center. He was able to quickly pick up the routine while you were left to flounder, moving awkwardly because of your hands that were still attached.

You watched him move so effortlessly, feeling odd being right next to him since you were always there on the sidelines when he was a part of it. He’d smile at you as you sat at the bar, waving you over, but you always shook your head. But now that you were finally dancing with him, he was hoping that it could become a regular thing.

He liked the way your shoulders would brush when you moved the wrong way and the way you’d squeeze his hand to communicate that you were nervous. You turned the way that you thought you were supposed to go but ended up bumping into Tyler, nothing but a chuckle falling from his lips as he looked down at you.

“Follow me, okay?” He asked and you nodded. “Turn around.” You did as he asked and turned around, your back facing him. His hands slowly moved up to your waist, letting them make a home there. He had touched you there multiple times when he had hugged you, but this was entirely different. So close to the way you had wanted him to touch you, but not nearly enough.

“Do you trust me?” He asked, his lips right by the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Of course you trusted him. Maybe more than you should have.

“Of course,” you responded with a nod.

“Follow my lead, darlin’.” It was as if he was trying to drive you crazy. Like he knew the exact effect he had on you. But he had too, right? This was all an elaborate way to get you to admit that you had feelings for him. Well, two could play that game.

You kept in rhythm with him, slowly but surely backing up to him, your ass right up against his crotch. You gingerly began to grind on the spot, resisting the urge to turn and see his reaction. You could tell he was enjoying it just by the way his fingers were digging into your waist.

You moved the two of you out of the way of the dancers and continued to grind on Tyler, your movements still slow, but harder now. You could hear his breathing pick up, feeling his nose brush your jaw, his breath on your neck sending another chill up your spin.

He never thought the two of you would be dancing like this, the movements so sensual and sexy. You knew exactly what you were doing and it was fucking unfair. He could feel his cock hardening and pretty soon, he wouldn’t be able to hide it anymore.

“This isn’t the right dance,” he chuckled.

“I know,” you nodded. “But don’t you like this more, Owens? I can feel you getting hard.” Just when you were going to really take it home, you were suddenly turned around, a gasp leaving your mouth at the sudden movement. Your hands landed on his chest and Tyler’s hands rested on your lower back, pulling you as close to him as possible.

You leaned closer to him, your lips brushing his and the man was convinced he was a goner. He could feel your gloss that had transferred to his own lips and wanted it other places, anywhere you could get your lips. He loved the idea of being covered in your kisses, the prints leaving your mark behind.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, sugar,” he said, his voice low, raspy. And it was doing wonders for you. He was so hot and you were having a hard time not making a move anymore.

“Oh, I fully intend on finishing,” you responded, finally pressing your lips to his. His eyes widened at your actions, but he was quick to melt into you, his lips catching yours slowly.

His arms wrapped around your waist even tighter, pulling you as close to him as possible. Yours wrapped around his neck, your hands running through his hair at the back of his head.

Your head felt like it was swimming, his lips more soft than you could have ever imagined. He tasted like the beer he had been drinking, mixed with something else you couldn’t quite make out. It was sweet and sour.

You pulled away before it could get too heated and Tyler admired the lip gloss that had smeared across your face, very tempted to go back in for more. His thumb swiped across your cheek to help get rid of it, but that didn’t seem to help, only smearing it further.

The weight of what you had done was catching up to you. You had just kissed your best friend. You had just kissed your best friend and you liked it. You had only gotten a taste but now you wanted more. All of him. You wanted to finally make your fantasies a reality.

And you couldn’t. You couldn’t do that without completely complicating your friendship and you really liked what the two of you had. It was really nice at first, to have a friend without all of the “feelings” bullshit, but now you had actually fallen for him. And hard.

“Fuck,” the word fell from Tyler’s lips, his voice somehow getting even more raspy, making you even more wet. God, you really were fucked, and not in the way you wanted to be.

“Do you wanna take this out to my truck?” You asked, your hands lazily moving up and down his back.

“I’d love to take this out to your truck,” he replied, pressing his lips to yours before paying your bills and leading you out of the bar, his arm wrapping protectively around your waist.

You rifled through your purse, looking for your keys and found them before unlocking your truck. Tyler opened the driver’s seat door for you before helping you into it. He then closed the door and rounded the hood before getting into his own seat.

You peeled out of the parking lot and sped down the road, thankful for how late it was so there was little traffic. Your heart pounded as you pulled into what looked like an abandoned parking lot.

Why you were scared of what you were about to do, you didn’t know. Tyler was sweet and you knew that he would do whatever he could to make you comfortable. He was nothing but a sweetheart and would make you feel good, stopping at nothing to do so.

You put the car in park and turned it off before turning toward Tyler. You stared at each other, the only thing that could be heard was the radio playing a soft country song. You turned the volume up to attempt to drown out your thoughts. What the hell were you doing? You didn’t know, but you were fully prepared to dive right in.

Tyler reached out, placing a hand on your cheek before pulling your face closer to his, his lips ghosting over yours, almost as if he was afraid to go for it. That confidence from the bar completely evaporated into the air.

You took the lead, pressing your lips to his, your movements more rushed and rough as you nipped at his bottom lip. He let out a little whine and that was enough to make you absolutely soaked.

Rain pattered against the car as you slotted your lips together once more before pulling away. You climbed over the center console and placed yourself into his lap, straddling him.

Tyler looked up at you, his pupils blown and his lips smeared with your lipgloss. It was an adorable sight and you hated how good he looked in that goddamn hat. You took the hat off of his head and put it on your own, moving your head this way and that, modeling it for him.

“How do I look?” You asked, turning your head to the side and he just laughed.

“You look good,” he nodded.

“As good as you?”

“Even better,” he replied, pulling you in for another kiss, removing the hat from your head and setting it on the driver’s seat.

He slipped his tongue into your mouth, letting it swirl around yours and a moan fell from your lips at the sensation. His hands slipped into your back pockets, giving your ass a squeeze and you gasped into his mouth which only made him do it again.

You began to grind against him as your tongues tangled together and you could hear a groan in the back of his throat. The whole thing was overstimulating for him, there was no way he was going to ask you to stop any time soon.

Your hands rested on his chest as you kissed him, this one slow and gentle, as if you two had all the time in the world, and right there, in that abandoned parking lot, you did. Your tongues tangled as you continued to grind into him, your underwear getting soaked as you felt his dick forming a tent in his pants.

Tyler’s hands moved to your shorts as you reached down on the side of the seat in search of the lever that leaned it back. You found it with ease and leaned the chair back as far as it would go as you let Tyler take what he wanted from you, you pliant to his every move.

You both struggled to pull down your shorts, laughing because of how small the space was. Maybe there was a reason why neither of you ever did this kind of thing. He got them down to your ankles and you moved so he could take off his jeans, his belt buckle making a clattering noise as it hit the tops of his boots.

You both removed your shirts and Tyler eyed the black lacy number you were wearing. His hand moved up to run over the fabric of the tops of the cups, his fingers brushing your skin every so slightly.

“Like what you see?” You asked, leaning down a little so he could get a better look at your cleavage. And you had him right where you wanted him, catching him staring right at it. You scooted up so that they were right in front of his face and he brought his lips to the skin, pressing a soft to it.

He then moved up, his lips now connected with your neck, his tongue swiping back and forth as he began to suck. You moved your head to give him more access and that caused him to nip at your skin, another gasp falling from your lips.

“So good,” you moaned, your eyes shutting. He continued to work, having every intention of creating a hickey right there underneath your ear. He licked and sucked, pulling the most delicious moans from your mouth.

To test the water, he grazed the skin with his teeth and you moaned loudly, reaching your orgasm. God, you were so fucking hot, the way you were able to make the most pretty sounds and look pretty while doing it. The sweat already forming on your skin, making you look absolutely irresistible.

You helped him get his underwear down and realized there was no going back as he cock sprang free from it. It was hard as a rock and probably the biggest you had ever seen. Who knew that your best friend was packing so much? Clearly you didn’t.

You pulled a condom from your purse and rolled it onto his cock before placing yourself on top of it, both of you moving awkwardly as you got used to each other in that way. Your hands rested on his shoulder as his head went to your waist, helping you move, riding him slowly.

You picked up the pace, and Tyler couldn’t help but watch you, feeling himself getting close just by looking at you. The cause of his wet dreams right on top of him, almost convincing him that he had been in one.

He let out a moan of his own and you looked down at him, your eyes darkening as you did so. You had barely even done anything as he already looked blissed out. This had to be a record. Knowing that you could do that to someone gave you so much power and you got more confident, moving as fast and as hard as you could.

Tyler let out another moan, his own scream climbing up his throat, his fingers digging into your waist, surely forming bruises. His head was back against the headrest, his eyes shut tight as another scream ripped through him, his breathing labored.

His hands moved up your back, his nails gliding down it, leaving scratches and your back arched at the movement, reaching your own orgasm. But you stayed there, seeing if you could get one more from him before taking a break before going for round two.

“Holy shit,” he moaned. “You really know what you’re doing,” he said through breaths.

His hands scratched up your back as you watched him, seeing that he was close again. A final loud moan fell from his lips and you slowed down your pace but kept moving, another orgasm rolling through you.

You sat there, staring at each other, your chests rising and falling as you did so. You never thought you would have ever gotten to that place with Tyler, but there you were, sitting on top of his dick, having just had the best sex of your life. And it hadn't even lasted that long.

“I have an idea. And hear me out, okay?” He asked, his hands moving up and down your arms lazily.

“Okay.”

“What if-what I want you to be the only one I sleep with?” Your eyes widened at his words, but you had to admit that you loved the idea. There was no way you could fuck anyone else after that. He had ruined you for any other man.

“Oh, so like friends with benefits?” So you didn’t understand. That wasn’t what he wanted at all. He wanted you to be his. Solely exclusive with him. His girlfriend. The one he went to bed with every night and woke up to every morning.

“I love you, y/n,” he said, sitting up, taking you into his arms, looking you in the eyes so you knew he was serious. This wasn’t exactly how he had planned on telling you, but he supposed that this was a good a time as any.

“I love you too, Tyler,” you replied, pressing your lips to his, this kiss sweeter than the others, both of you smiling into it. “Be mine?”

“Oh, darlin’,” he let out a chuckle, pressing another kiss to your lips. “I always was.”

[rinnstars]

being yours!

let him be useful to you

itoshi rin x reader: yandere ish?, angst on rin’s part, not proofread + likes n reblogs are really appreciated!

he’s used to be being left behind - its a common occurrence for someone that’s used to being silenced to fit in, from being left out of class discussions, to being left behind by friends and eventually even his own brother that swore to be with him until the end of time. and sometimes, despite your reassurance and love that he doesn’t once doubt, he thinks you’ll be better off without him - you’re much more talkative and extroverted, youre friends with everyone else that he has probably never talked to, youre much brighter than he is. and sometimes, he thinks youre truly better off without him - you’ll get to have lunches with all your friends rather than sit around beside him in the empty classroom eating, you’ll get to go home early without waiting for his football practice to end, you’ll no longer have to deal with a bother like him that rather dulls the mood.

so he’ll make up for his subpar personality he feels, make up for the way he self-destructs and leaves you on read on hard days, make up for the way he can’t be the picture-perfect boyfriend that he knows you adore from your collection of love mangas in your room or from korean and chinese dramas you talk to him about. he’ll settle for being useful to you, after all people wont throw away things that are useful to them right? he knows you wont - you keep our digicam despite its battery issues simply because its still usable to take photos of you and him, you keep your old and flat heat pads because you can still use them when your stomach hurts a little too much, you keep your old water bottle despite the few times it leaks. and sometimes he wonders if you keep him around because you like the sentimentality of your relationship, after all you’ve been with him since you two were kids the same way you keep your old photo albums and toys and textbooks because you can’t bear to throw away because of the memories. he hopes you keep him around because he’s useful - he’ll carry your heavy bag to and from school, even in between classes, he’ll help you queue up for lunch letting you rest about and talk to your friends in the meantime, he’ll pick off the ingredients you don’t like off your food with his hands carefully without any flaws. he hopes he’ll be useful to you - he’ll be the tissue to wipe away your tears either with his lips or with his hands, he’ll be the heat warmer that recently stopped working whenever your hand or legs grow cold by embracing you with his warm self, he’ll be the sweet treat for you, transferring candies hidden in his mouth in yours as he merges yours and his lips into one. he wants all of him to be useful to you - his hands will carry and hold any burden that’s too much for you, whether emotional or physical, he wants his legs to carry you without a single stumble to not make you doubt yourself as he carries you as though youre a royalty in a horse carriage to wherever you want to, he wants his eyes to help you find items you keep dropping and missing whether that be pieces of papers, hair ties, or even house keys.

and he’ll work hard to be your pride and joy - be the best striker in the world, be better than anyone else, be the best infatuation you’ve ever had. he wants your attention on him no matter what - please don’t look away from him, not even for a second. he thinks you just might be the sun to his chloroplast-like body, his sole reason that he’s still breathing if only for you. and maybe its stupid, its childish to want you to look at him, even if its simply because he’s helping you out - he craves it. so use him, milk him for all he’s worth and keep your eyes on him - he wont ask for anything more. because that means even if you fall out of love one day, even if the look in your eyes is becoming less and less infatuated, even if you no longer feel this same burning fire that will consume him, you’ll stay with him - the same way you still keep pens that no longer have inks, notebooks that have run out of empty pages, earphones that no longer connect properly to your phone for the memories.

but for now, when that school bell rings, he’ll without fail walk up to your desk, pack your things with you and carry your bag for you just to see you beam at him like an angel with that look full of love he knows he’s already addicted to.

[tryslora]

Disability in fiction

This was a tough post to write. 

I saw a post about disability rep, and I kept thinking about it, and wanted to share my own takes on the topic. 

I thought about it for days, trying to figure out how to word it. Then after drafting it, I stuck it in a file for a couple of weeks, trying to decide if I could even post it. This is not a topic that can be boiled down to a simple yes/no kind of answer.

Let’s start with two examples.

1 - I have a short story I started writing (it wants to grow up to be longer, so it’s waiting for time) where my original concept was to write about an older woman who is short and has major chronic pain, and I wanted to dig into fantasy reasons why this pain exists, but at the same time, have her be able to kick ass despite being exhausted and dealing with excruciatingly painful issues.

2 - I once drafted a portal fantasy storyline wherein a young man was transported into a fantasy world, and when he was given a horse to ride, he approached it very warily. He was encouraged to mount, did so, and sat there and exclaimed in shock, “My brain isn’t exploding with snot!” because his allergies hadn’t come with him into the body he had in the fantasy world.

Both stories were designed to be fun, a bit light, maybe even cozy.

So.

In one case, the disabled character remains disabled and kicks ass anyway. And in the other case, the character is magically “healed” and no longer has debilitating allergies that had wrecked his way of life.

This is the difficult part to express: I think both storylines are valid.

Bear with me while I dig into this.

First and foremost: I completely agree that we need more representation in all forms of fiction, especially when it comes to disabled people being able to live their lives. Characters with missing limbs, or non-neurotypical brains, or anxiety & depression, or hearing issues, or sight problems, or chronic pain, or… or… you get the idea. We need all of it, and we need it to not need to be magically healed in order for a story to be considered happy and cozy. Disabled people can be happy, too.

I’m all in for this, and I wouldn’t write the stories I do if I weren’t.

However, there are also moments where I am so exhausted by my body and by everything I deal with inside of it where I do wish for that magical ability to forget that my pain exists. Or for the ability to actually process information in a straight line, or make decisions without writing a hundred lists and accomplishing nothing from them. Or to be able to lie down in a field of grass without regretting it for days while I drip snot and fight sinus-pain-induced migraines.

Sometimes I want to imagine that my life is different.

And that is one of the joys of writing. I can choose to write a story where people like me or the people I know are the heroes/heroines exactly as they are, different abilities and all. Or I can choose to write a story where the problems magically resolve.

Both can be cozy, sweet, and adorable. I can give the character with chronic pain the ability to kick ass, take names, and have a sweet reunion with her ex-girlfriend. I can show all the ways that my disabilities may define how I handle my life differently than someone else, but do not define what I can and cannot do.

But I can also daydream about a life where it’s different, the same way I can daydream about having wings, or being able to teleport. For me, imagining a day with no pain is the same as a day where I can walk through walls. It is absolutely a fantasy, and about as likely to happen.

Here’s the thing: It’s okay to be angry to see what looks like disability being erased. It’s okay to wonder why the author did that, why they magically healed someone instead of letting them be who they were. But at the same time, maybe ask why, and what point of view it’s coming from. Or look a little deeper into the story and how the resolution occurs, and the effect it does have on the character (I suspect that were I to suddenly have a day of no pain, I’d be intensely reckless, given what an idiot I am while IN pain, y’know? And WOW would I regret that later…).

And for authors, think about what you’re writing. WHY is this particular event (keeping disability, erasing it, whichever or both) happening, because the reader will take note of it. They may see things that weren’t intended, but are there as unintentional biases.

Make conscious decisions for why things happen.

Someday I want to get back to both of those examples from the start of this post; I still like both concepts. But I’ll be writing them for very different reasons, and both will be healing my soul in different ways. Different kinds of daydreams. And again, I think that’s valid, too.

[berryblosom]

AFTER THE FIGHT ༊*·˚

Summary: how the Jjk guys react after getting into a fight with you.

A-note: feel like his could’ve been longer but anywaysss

Fights with Yuji are rare, almost non existent so it really took a toll on you when this fight came out of no where. You normally don't mind when yuji forgets something in fact you find it cute however his forgetfulness this time almost killed you. You made Yuji promise when you first started dating that he'd call or text if a mission he was on would drag on for a couple more days, you weren't a sorcerer so it wasn't like you could go and find him if something went wrong. Yuji broke his promise which resulted in a fight which then resulted in you sleeping in the guest bedroom.

You've stared at the ceiling for almost an hour now not being able to sleep without your human furnace. "Y/N?" The knock at the door and Yujis voice had you sitting up in the bed immediately.

"Come in." You cringed at how horse your voice sounds after crying for an hour. Yuji comes in hugging one of your many pillows, he makes his way straight to you and kneels on the side of the bed you were sitting on. He takes your hands into his rubbing them into his cheek "I'm sorry I yelled beautiful, I know you're just worried." His big eyes peer up at you and you notice his eyes are red and puffy. He'd been crying and it pained you to see him like this. "I'm sorry I yelled too." You pull him into the bed with you and he instantly wraps his arms around you. This felt right, having Yuji glued to your back and his face buried in the nape of your neck. "I promise to never make you cry again pretty girl, I love you" "i love you too Yuji."

Megumi didn't know what to do, he's been sitting outside the guest room for hours listening to your soft cries. You refuse to let him in and the more he thinks about your fight the more guilt he felt. He didn't mean to call you clingy, he's new to relationships and isn't used to receiving so much affection it overwhelmed him.

Your cries come to a stop and Megumi thought that maybe you'd finally come out. "Y/N can you come out please." He was met with silence. You know he didn't mean to say it but it still hurt because you love him so much. "Please I just wanna see if your okay." You give in and open the door. Megumi falls back landing at your feet, when he sees how red your eyes are he scrambles to get up and pull you into a hug which surprises you as he isn't one for initiating physical contact. "I didn't mean it, you know that right?" You slowly bring your arms up to hug him rubbing his back. "I know, I shouldn't have pushed you." He shakes his head and pulls you away to look at your face. "No it's my own problem I love when you're affectionate and I love you." You smile ruffling his hair as you walk back to your bed room together. "I love you too my grumpy Gumi."

You sigh as you think about the fight with Satoru. Your fights never lasted more than a minute, it was alway little things like him forgetting to put down the toilet seat or you watching a show without him but this time he went too far. You've explained to Satoru that the guy from your class is just a friend but that didn't stop Satoru from beating him up infront of everyone when he saw the guy hug you. "Princess, baby, love of my life please let me in. I miss you.” You wanted so badly to open the door for him and run into his arms but he had to know how bad what he did was. "No you need to learn your lesson." You lean against the door listening to his breathing from the other side. "I've learned my love please I miss your face." You roll you eyes at your overly dramatic boyfriend, it's only been ten minutes since you locked yourself in the guest bedroom. You decide he's been punished enough and open the door, he wastes no time in lifting you into his arms and burying his face into your chest. "Never lock me out again." He looks up at you with his annoyingly blue eyes "Depends on if you can behave." He nods his head frantically while carrying you back to bed "I can...you still love me right?" "Of course I do pretty boy"

Kento had expected to come home to all the light off and an empty bed. You're sleeping figure is what calms him down after a long day at work, just the feeing of your hands in his hair makes all the days worries fade away but after your fight over the phone today he didn't think that would happen. He's been working non stop for weeks and has missed several plans you've made to spend time with him, he realised just how much you've missed him when you called him during his break today crying. He takes of his coat, dropping all his stuff to find you in the guest bedroom.

He climbs into bed with you stirring you from your sleep. "Ken?" You turn to face him rubbing the sleep from your eyes "Im so sorry I made you cry darling." He strokes the side of your face feeling incredibly guilty when he sees your tear stained cheeks. "It's okay, I know how important your job is." Your hands runs through his hair which instantly makes him feel better.

"Nothing is as important to me as you are love." He nuzzles his face into yours and pulls you into a tight hug. "Will you come back to bed with me?" You nod and he picks you up "Let's go back"

[dameronology]

we can't be friends (steve rogers)

summary: based on we can't be friends by ariana grande

warnings: angst, swearing

sorry for being absent for six months. even more sorry that this is what i came back with. enjoy!

Being loved by Steve Rogers was like sunlight on a stormy day. Peaking through the clouds, encouraging you to come out of whatever shelter you'd chosen; letting you smell the fresh rain on the pavement as the light finally came through, taking back the water until next time. It was warm on your skin, right through to your bones and your heart and to your very soul. You could have basked in it forever.

The mornings were your favourite, waking up to golden alabaster skin, carved into his muscles. They were slightly scarred, with jagged pink marks of stab wounds and bullet skims and far too many near misses for you to be comfortable. Of course, he healed faster than most but when you were as trigger happy as Steve Rogers was, barely a mission went by when he didn't come home with some minor wound or another. Still, him being there was the most important part. He'd let out a sleepy little yawn and subconsciously roll over to hold you, taking him in his arms and pulling you to his chest. That was where you felt safest.

No matter how busy he was or how demanding work became, Steve always showed up. Flowers waiting for you on the counter after a bad day; ordering take out when you were ill and always making sure your favourite show was recorded on the DVR. You never even had to ask. He'd buy you new roses before your old ones had even began to wilt; had your busiest work days recorded in your phone calendar so that he could step up, even when his own job was pulling him across the country. That was the thing about Steve Rogers: he always showed up.

Until he didn't.

Being loved by Steve Rogers was like sunlight on a rainy day, but waiting for him to love you back was a never-ending storm. Rain pelting down, hammering onto your clothes and seeping through to your skin and your bones and eventually drowning your heart. There was no dry escape. No shelter to hide from the rain. You always felt it - the wet, the cold, the shivering - no matter how hard you tried to escape. There was no getaway from the realisation that he no longer loved you back, or from the 19 miscalled waiting on his phone, or from the dead roses wilted on your kitchen windowsill.

Long conversations about your future had turned into silent, screaming pauses. The arguments felt pointless. You could only beat a dead horse so many times before you realised it wasn't coming back to life.

You sat on opposite ends of the sofa now. Slept on different sides of the bed. Watched your favourite show in silence whilst he tapped away at his laptop, barely even bothered by your presence. He'd sat too a high standard for himself. It was one he couldn't keep, but even the bare minimum was a golden standard compared to what he was giving you these days.

"I'm done."

You'd surprised yourself more than anyone with the words. Steve had come home from work late again. The fourth time that week, twelfth time that month and countless times overall. You'd made dinner. It was cold now, like the stony expression on his face and the watery one on yours.

"What?"

Steve glanced up from his phone, brow furrowed.

"I'm done," you said.

"With what?"

You sighed deeply, regathering yourself for a moment. Pushed down the lump in your throat, shoulders raised to try and show whatever tatters of your pride you had left.

"I'm leaving you," you said. "I can't...I don't want to sit around and wait for you to love me again."

Steve put his phone down, pausing for a moment. It looked like he was going to say something...maybe anything. Even though your mind was made up, part of you wanted him to beg. To get on his knees, take your hands and plead for your heart back. God knows that this time a year ago, he would have pleaded with you in person and with writing in the sky.

Instead, he just sniffed.

He sniffed, and you left. Keys to your shared apartment thrown into the dish on the side, never to be taken again. At least the Lego heart keys chain you had together would be together again - you know, when he was actually home.

Whatever time you had previously put into your relationship, you now put into yourself. Found a nice little loft on the other side of the river - it felt like the wrong side, but everything felt wrong without him - and decorated it with everything but photos of you together. There was a nice rug, and a beautiful sofa, and your marble counters were a nice welcome home.

Still, the bed felt cold. Not as cold as it had when he'd lovelessly laid beside you, but still. Cold. It felt strange only having one tooth brush in the holder, and only one bottle of shower gel on the edge of your bath. The toilet seat was always down now (Steve had had only one flaw, and that was it) and you always tripped over the shoes that you left by the door because he no longer tidied them away.

It felt like half your heart was missing, but eventually it grew back.

You forgot about Steve, and the Avengers, and that entire world until Natasha Romanoff texted you. It had been six months since your break-up by that point, and even though you missed them all dearly, it had been natural for Steve to get them in the break-up. You had your friends. He had his. But, it was nice that Natasha still thought of you.

Hey, hope you're doing well. I'm having my birthday party next week at my apartment. 7pm, same building as always. It would be nice if you came. Steve may or may not be but he's been annoying lately so I'd rather have you. Let me know <3

At first, it had been an immediate no. Then you thought about it some more, and it was a definitive no. Then, you found yourself calling Nat and talking for three hours straight.

Apparently Morgan was in her One Direction era, and had thrown an hour long tantrum when she found out they weren't together anymore. Pepper and Tony had tried to pay for a reunion, but they weren't interested. Bruce was doing an assignment in France and Clint and his family had moved a little closer to the city. Sam and Bucky were still working for the government and naturally, that had brought Natasha onto the subject of Steve.

Doing better. That's what she said. Apparently he wasn't working as late anymore and he'd cut down his hours. He was going to therapy, drinking less and working out more. She'd lingered on the last sentence, but ended it with he's more like your Steve again.

That made you want to go to the party even less, and yet the following weekend you found yourself stood outside Natasha's high-rise apartment building at 7:35PM. You'd put more effort into your appearance than usual; a more expensive fragrance, spent a little longer on your hair and worn the outfit Steve had always thought you looked best in. Maybe it was a calculated move, but you'd never been all that good at maths.

Your entrance was met with four or five hugs. Natasha looked amazing as ever, and Bucky was brighter now. Tony was elated to see you and you didn't ask about Pepper's little baby bump, but you could see it was there. Your mind was kept too occupied by all them to even think about Steve.

That - naturally - all came crashing down when you saw him across the room. He was leant against a pillar, hair longer now but fluffed up and a 5 o'clock shadow gathered on his chin. Not like the man with long hair and a beard that you'd left, but not quite the squeaky clean looking Steve you'd fallen in love with either. Still though, it was closer. He was showing through the cracks.

The question of whether or not you would approach him answered itself, because you blinked and suddenly he was stood in front of you.

"I owe you an apology."

Straight to the fucking chase.

You faltered slightly, but didn't let it show. "Yeah, I think you do."

Steve glanced around you at all your friends - naturally, they were all staring at you. They might have been superheroes but that didn't stop them being nosey fuckers.

"Let's go to the roof," he said. "I mean...if you want. You don't owe me anything."

You nodded your head. "Let's go to the roof."

The climb up the stairs to Natasha's terrace was awkward, but not as bad as the silence that quickly filled the cold air as soon as you got up there. Steve might have been one of the bravest men you'd ever met, but vulnerability scared the shit out of him. You suspected that was the case now.

"So?" you asked. "What could you possibly have to say?"

"I'll only say that I'm sorry once," Steve began. "So: I'm sorry. For pushing you out, for not trying, for letting work consume me. Even more for the fact I didn't even try to stop you leaving, because as soon as you shut the door, all I wanted to do was run after you, but I'm not stupid. I knew your mind was made up."

"Where are you going with this?"

"You leaving was like a bucket of cold water," he continued. "It made me realise a lot of things - about how much I'd left myself go, mostly. I've stopped drinking and started going to therapy, and I have my work hours capped."

You smiled. "Well done, Steve. That's really great."

"I'm better now. Not fully, but...I'm getting there," Steve replied. "I asked Natasha to invite you tonight. She wanted to anyways but it was sort of my idea."

"Why?"

"So I could apologise, but mostly because I want you back in my life," he explained. "As friends, as something more. Hell, I'll take you as my enemy if it means I get to see you again."

You sighed, eyes falling to the ground. What could you even say to that? Enemies sounded pretty good - and definitely well deserved - but you didn't hate Steve. You'd moved on, but that didn't mean you'd lost all capability to love him.

"How do I know you won't do it again?" you asked.

"You don't," he replied. "I don't know that either, but what if it doesn't happen again? What if...what if things were really good?"

You glanced away, eyes staring at the distant Manhattan skyline for a moment. It glittered and glimmered, mostly rebuilt after the 2012 incident. You could see Stark Tower as well. Steve had told you he loved you for the first time on that roof top. Now, here he was, begging for you back on another.

"Friends," you muttered. "We can be friends. I don't know after that. I've waited six fucking months for you to decide that you love me again-"

" - I never stopped -"

" - not the point, Steve!" you cut him off. "We'll start with friends, then go from there."

"I'll wait ten years if I have to," he said. His smile suggested he was joking, but you knew he wasn't.

With that, Steve pulled you into a hug. In your soul, you knew you couldn't be friends. Enemies was worst but strangers was horrible too. The answer was inevitable, but you just had to make him wait a little while.

maybe a part 2?

[peachpitfics]

Delicate

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Colin Bridgerton has finally admitted his feelings, to himself and to his future wife, Penelope Featherington. After a wild ride in the carriage on the way home from the Ball, Colin invites his love inside.

Length: 2.8k

Pairing: Penelope Featherington x Colin Bridgerton

Content Warnings: unprotected sex, penetrative sex, sneaking around.

Bridgerton master list

The carriage door swung open - her heart sunk lower than she thought possible. Was he going to leave her here in this carriage? After what had just happened between them? Penelope’s lashes fluttered anxiously as she watched Colin Bridgerton turn, outstretching his hand to her. Astonishment washed over her. She had contemplated pinching her own arm to ensure this was not a dream.

“Are you coming with me?”

“What?” She paused, “Your - - Your family will see me” Penelope stuttered briefly, looking up at the Bridgerton house. Nervous energy filled her belly, Colin’s smile slight with the sweetest upturn of his right dimple, he leaned in.

“For God’s sake, Penelope Featherington. Are you going to marry me or not?”. Colin’s words rolled smoothly over his lips, cocky and filled with certainty, as he watched her breath quicken.

There wasn’t a second thought had for either of them, her hand was thrust into his and he was pulling her from the carriage in teenage excitement. The coachman atop the carriage gave an unsurprised smile to his footman, whistling to the horses to carry on. Colin bustled down the path, right up to the door, his fingers intertwined with Penelope’s; finally, he had found what was missing. That little piece of himself he’d spent months searching for all over the world, had been sitting across the square, nose in a book at the sitting room window. Too often had he forced Penelope out of his mind, but not tonight and no longer would he dare try.

“Wait,” Penelope pulled his hand back in hesitation while he was reaching for the handle, “What if someone stops us?” She asked gingerly. Colin grinned wide, “No one, not even my mother, is going to stop me from getting you up those stairs and into bed” Colin’s hand found its way into her red curls, pulling her into his lips, kissing her once, deep, and long. Each time, Penelope felt as if he was stealing the very air in her lungs. She was dizzy with passion and drunk on her love for him. Colins hand pushed the doors open, the house was lowly lit for the evening. Not every Bridgerton child had made it home yet from this evening’s ball.

There was no noise about the house, and not yet a service person in sight. Colin closed the door gently behind them, and scurried up the stairs, Penelope grasping her dress up to follow his pace. “Where is everyone?” Penelope asked as they reached the first landing. Colin had a pensive look about him, placing his pointer finger over her lips and then moving to tap his ears. Pen closed her eyes for a moment, and in the distance, heard the softest pianoforte tinkling. “Francesca” Colin whispered, “Mother will be about”. His hand closed around hers again and they were off and up the stairs yet again. On the fourth floor Colin stopped, allowing both to catch their breath. Colins door swung open, revealing a well-kept, neat bedroom. Penelope waited at the door, it was so dark, and she was feeling so uncertain. Colin lit candles around the room, unveiling maps and journals covering a desk in the corner. There was a globe, golden pins stuck into little black dots all over Europe. Penelope had wanted to travel herself; she was always envious of Colin’s adventures. She had wished they had shared them together - maybe they would in the future.

Colin shrugged his blazer from his shoulders and laid it gracefully over the chair.

“Are you going to come inside?” Colin asked softly.

“I’ve never been in your room…” Pen said pensively, looking down toward the hem of her dress. Colin could understand why she was feeling a little unsure.

“Penelope” Colin approached her slowly, removing his cufflinks as he walked, “I would be honoured and frankly, besotted, if you were to join me in here. I know that I have spent much of your time denying the way I feel, but I will not be any more” Colin admitted. Their hands tangled together in gentleness and calm, comfortable. Penelope took one step forward, what felt like the greatest of leaps, and Colin closed the door behind her.

They shuffled sweet, meandering steps deeper into the bedchamber, Colin pressing his warm lips to Pen’s forehead with each sway. Breath caught in her throat, Penelope closed her eyes in the serenity of the moment, remembering how many times she had fantasised over this scenario. Perhaps a thousand times before, since she could remember, visions of Colin Bridgerton’s lips crashing into hers plagued her mind. Now, they were swaying, dancing closer than they ever had at any ball. They each were taking note of every detail they had missed in their arrogance.

Colin admired the way Penelope’s back dipped into her luscious hips, her behind. His hands rode low, resting at the base of her spine, pulling her right to his broad chest. Penelope, faced now with peeks through Colin’s undershirt, the tassels hanging down to glide over the swell of her breast, tickling her skin. When had he grown such chest hair? She pondered, peering down his shirt in an unsubtle manner. Colin moved back from her, a potentially embarrassed smile gracing his face, he pulled his long sleeve off over his head.

“Is this what you wanted?” Colin began to turn on the spot, arms wide open as if on display. Penelope let out a little laugh, but she did not look away.

“You are incredible” She mumbled, almost turning away from him but not without him darting forward, hands on her bare shoulders to keep her faced toward him.

“Pen, if you would like to wait until we are married - I would understand” Colin said quickly, fretting Penelope had changed her mind, “We can simply talk, or sit together on the floor here. Nothing you’re not ready for needs to happen tonight” Colin assured her.

Penelope gave a demure smile, gliding her thumb across his cheek. There was a long pause before Penelope had pieced together what she had wanted to say.

“I never considered the possibility of you returning my affections, Colin. I did not expect to be here tonight, or at all, really. I have dreamt of this night nearly my whole life and I am afraid that you will be left dissatisfied and disappointed” Penelope admitted, head hung low and avoiding Colin’s eye.

Colins fingers danced over her chin, faintly at first, but when she wouldn’t look at him, he persuaded her chin higher to meet his eye. Crystal blue eyes, staring at Penelope with such a sureness she had never seen in him before. Every blink told a story, one of lust and passion and wanting but also of love. Penelope could feel this, it was real this time.

Their lips smashed together, a symphony of cymbals crashing together a the crescendo of an opera. Hands moved frantically back and forth over each body, everything new and explorative. Colin’s hands kneaded at her breasts through her dress, every gasp and moan she elicited started a new fire somewhere in his body until his whole world was on fire.

“Can I help you out of that dress?” Colin asked, his eyes never leaving hers. Penelope nodded slowly, turning around so that Colin may attempt to undo the corset entrapping her. It started softly, filled with longing touch and excited hurrying until –

“Damn” Colin laughed, pulling and pulling on the laces of this corset, unable to loosen what the ladies’ maids had done to secure Penelope on the most important night of her life, or so they had thought, with Lord Debling. Penelope covered her mouth as she giggled along with him, waiting for him to at least get a start in so that he would be less frustrated. But as time went on, Colin became more and more impatient, eventually witling him down enough that he stormed over to his writing desk and retrieved a pocket knife from his drawer.

“You do trust me?” He asked cheekily, he tongue playfully poking his inner cheek.

“Of course,” Penelope nodded. Colin slid the knife in one fell swoop, straight up Penelope’s back, cutting away the corset. “I would have ripped it, had it not been made of iron” Colin pulled Pen around, arms wrapping around her, laughing along with her throughout needy kisses. Her dress fell away and after a moment, she didn’t find herself caring as much as she did before.

Colins hands found their way up under her under clothes, his skin meeting hers for the very first time. He groaned with lasciviousness, “Your skin is like velvet, the softest thing I have ever felt in my life”. Colin ran his hands over every curvature of Penelope’s body, it was the beginning of his greatest adventure – mapping every valley, dip and crevice of his future wife’s body. Their eyes met again, Colin asking for permission again to remove another layer of clothing, this time, the final layer. Penelope’s chest constricted as she nodded, her breath trembling as the material inched slowly upside her body, his hands gliding over her hips, lifting her arms into the air finally.

Colin dropped the long undergarment to the ground, stepping back, mouth agape, stunned. Penelope felt compelled to cover herself, she had always felt that way, but she held strong and managed to keep her arms by her sides while Colin took in her naked body for the first time.

He shook his head, transfixed, entranced, entrapped, as if he was trying to break a spell. His eyes hovered over every inch. His hands reached out but did not touch. He remembered to swallow, only to stop himself from drooling onto the floor. And then he came to his knees in front of her, hands placed on her upper thighs. “You are heavenly” Colin managed to say. A light, abashed smile planted itself upon her face as she gazed down at him. He was simply undone by her.

Penelope held out her hands, watching Colin place kisses about her thighs and lower belly, eventually he took hold of them, and they moved toward his bed. Colin hovered over her, taking her breast in his hand, her nipples into his mouth, swirling his warm tongue around each of them. Penelope gasped underneath him, wondering if it could get any better than this. His hands coasted her body, massaging and pulling her into him, finding the best places to hold her. Fingers looming over the edge of her belly, Penelope felt the hottest burning from her lower stomach, the wanton need for more, every touch feeling electric between them.

“Please” Penelope whimpered, Colins hand gliding lower, slipping between her thighs and finding the warmth it was seeking. His light, well-placed fingers traced tiny circles over the most sensitive part of her body, compelling harmonious moans from her lips, seeming to drive Colin to absolute desperation. His pace quickened again and again, placing pressure down on just the right spot until he had her panting in his ear, begging for more.

“My God, I want you” Colin panted, exasperated, not letting up, “I want to sink into you, and never leave this room again”. Their lips collided in messy, wet kisses. Teeth nipping and pulling on each other’s lips, Penelope on the verge of teetering over the edge. She had never known such pleasure, and relished the idea that this was just the beginning of her experience with his talents. Whist thinking about all the things she was going to let Colin do to her body, a rush of ecstasy flooded her being, her legs convulsing and clenching tightly around his hand, trying desperately to make him stop moving. She writhed underneath him, trying to stifle her moans in his deep kisses. Penelope had never been bombarded with such a feeling as that, so much pleasure she could hardly open her eyes to come back to the real world. Colin smiled charmingly above her, brushing her red curls from her face, kissing her with fervour and moving between her legs.

Penelope looked up at Colin, his broad chest and strong arms made her knees weak on any given day where he was clothed. Butterflies surged into her stomach again, as she realised what they were about to do, together. It was an excitement she would never be able to gage on a scale.

His hands rubbed up and down her thighs, devilish desire deep set in his blue eyes as he positioned himself. Penelope held one hand to her face, where she feverishly chewed on her nail, the other holding onto Colin’s arm for support.

“I love you” She admitted aloud, looking up with intimate fondness.

“You’re my best friend. I love you” Colin whispered down to her. He placed himself at her entrance and began to move forward. “Oh, the wicked things I shall do to you”, He moaned, throwing his head back as he sunk into her for the very first time.

Penelope squealed with revelry, moans of pleasure quickly following as Colin began showing her what married life held in store for them. His movements were sure and strong, however reserved for his loves first time. In the few moments it took for Penelope to become accustomed to love making, she was enjoying it thoroughly, moving up onto her elbows, kissing Colin as he thrust into her.

“Oh Colin, please don’t stop” Pen moaned a little louder than she thought.

A frenzy began in Colins body, grasping her legs and thrusting them into the air with force, holding them up onto his shoulders and pushing himself further into her now.

Of all the sex he had had in the last couple of years, nothing compared to this. The way she felt around him, the sound of her voice, the softness of her skin and the comfort of her body. There was nothing as hedonistic as this. He took his future wife by her thighs and rolled her onto her front, grasping her voluptuous hips and reefing her back towards him, thrusting forward and burying himself deep inside her.

Her fingers grasped handfuls of bed linen, screaming out in delight as she found there was another way to accomplish this. This had been her favourite thus far. She loved the way his hands sunk into her flesh, how he held her and pulled at her with such a need. Colins thrust became faster, more uneven than before and she knew the same thing was about to happen to him. Penelope arched her back to meet him, kissing his chin as he pounded into her.

“Please” She moaned into the side of his cheek, begging him for his release was all it took for Colin Bridgerton to let go and fill Penelope. His hands remained tight on her waist, squeezing and pulling her back onto him repeatedly until he had finished. “That’s my good girl. My sweet Penelope” He hushed into her ear, kissing the side of her head before pulling back and laying down next to her.

They lay together in content silence for a few moments, processing what had happened tonight. Penelope let out a short giggle, meaning for it to stay in her head.

“Happy?” Colin asked, shuffling over closer to her side, resting his hand on her belly.

“Unbelievably so” Penelope whispered sweetly.

Until the early hours of the morning, they sat together, nestled against the bedhead of Colin’s bed, talking about it all. Reminiscing about all the signs Colin had missed along the way, and everything in between. Neither of them had ever felt such comfort in the presence of someone else. It was clear to them, that this was a love match and that they wanted to be married as soon as possible.

At five o’clock, Colin helped Pen dress as sensibly as she could have and arranged the carriage to discreetly drive her to her home. She would say she spent the night with Eloise or Francesca, repairing friendships or whatnot, if someone asked or noticed. But she was sure they would not. Colin escorted her quietly to the front door, gingerly making their way down the flights of stairs, hoping no one would be awake yet.

They stood at the front door, embracing, lips slowly and sleepily pulling at each other, relegated to pretending as soon as the door opened. But the door opened of its own volition and the pair flew apart like magnets of the same pole.

“Colin” Benedict stood, shoes nowhere to be found, cummerbund half undone, and his buttons mismatched on his shirt. He swayed wearily, and looked to Penelope, “Hi Penelope” He gave a little bow, and moved out of the way as she hurried down the cobblestone and into the carriage.

Benedict walked into the Bridgerton house without so much as a word. That was until halfway up the steps, he stopped short, turned on the spot and pointed at Colin with the most dumbfounded look upon his face.

“Penelope” He whispered, the cogs visibly turning in his eyes as Colin watched the puzzle pieces shifting into place. Benedict’s eyes widened with a sobering, dramatic flair and he began sprinting up the stairs, Colin bolting after him in a nervous flurry.

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

If you'd like to be tagged in any upcoming Bridgerton fanfiction, comment below and I'll add you to a taglist!

[alwritey-aphrodite]

tasm peter with

• one character covering the other with a blanket when they fall asleep watching a movie on the couch

+ forehead kisses and maybe reader wakes up and pulls him in for cuddles?

I didn’t follow the prompts super closely because the muse had me in her grasp so I hope this is ok :)

Let’s all pretend this isn’t literally 4 months late…

Sleep is never something that has come easily to you. You’re either too hot or too cold, wired up or unable to get comfortable, with most nights consisting more of your flopping around than actually sleeping. It’s been this way as long as you can remember, so you’ve learned to live with it, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t irritate you constantly.

“That much caffeine could kill a horse,” Peter jokes as you pop the tab on your energy drink. Most days, you try to limit your caffeine, but you’ve been getting less than five hours of sleep for the past week and you’re nearing desperation. You feel sorry for Peter, the sweetest boy imaginable having to deal with you and all your irritability, but he still presses a kiss to your cheek as he leaves the kitchen.

“It’s like I’m cursed or something,” you complain after taking a long pull from your can, relishing in the carbonation. You’re sure Peter’s tired of your grousing, but he still listens to every grumble, nodding sympathetically at your exhaustion.

“Maybe we can watch a movie later, it’ll help you relax even if you don’t sleep,” he suggests, and you know how much this kills him, knowing you’re uncomfortable and tired and upset all the time and not being able to do anything about it. He’s suggested everything to you, going out and buying supplements and sleep aids and blackout curtains just to try and see if they help you sleep even an hour longer. It melts your heart every time, almost as much as it breaks your heart seeing his disappointed frown when you tell him it didn’t help. You’re just waiting for the crash, knowing that soon enough your body will lose its fight and you’ll sleep soundly for a few nights, only for the cycle to start all over again.

“I’ll stop and buy snacks on my way home,” you respond, if only to see the way his smile lights up his entire face. You always think he looks beautiful, whether he’s laughing or crying or anything in between, but something about his smile makes him ethereal, and you do your best to make him smile as much as possible with the selfish motivation of ogling him just for a moment.

When you finally make it to the end of the day, exhaustion weighing you down like a ton of bricks, you make sure to pick up Peter’s favorite snacks, almost certain he has one of your favorite movies all queued up for your return. Upon your return, you’re a little shocked at the way he’s transformed your living room into your own home theater, making good use of the blackout curtains he’d bought and piling your couch with more pillows and blankets than two people could possibly need. He’s lit candles all throughout the room, casting a warm glow and just enough light for you to see the takeout spread across the coffee table, which with the snacks you’d bought, is almost more food than necessary.

In the gentle glow, you see him waiting for you, bringing your favorite drink out from the kitchen. You’re sure your relief is palpable, certain he can see the way your shoulders relax and your breathing settles, just a bit, at how wonderfully relaxing he’s made your apartment and how excited you are to finally be home. You set the snacks down, arranging them on the coffee table to compliment the takeout, and Peter shakes his head when he sees the spread, as if you’re ridiculous for buying his favorites when he must have spent hours making the living room as comfortable as possible.

You’re vindicated when the opening credits to one of your favorite movies rolls, and sitting next to Peter under your mountain of blankets, eating your favorite food with your favorite boy by your side, you’re more relaxed than you’ve been in weeks. A few minutes in, with a full belly and tired feet, your eyes start to feel like lead, and it takes more energy than you have to keep them open. Despite the pile of pillows, your head slumps against Peter’s shoulder, and he’s far too caring, far too relieved to see you asleep, that he wouldn’t ever dare to move.

It’s an awkward angle, but he presses a kiss to your forehead anyway, sweet and featherlight in an attempt not to wake you. He winces when you stir, eyelids fluttering, but you settle quickly, and he resists the urge to sigh in relief, certain the movement would only wake you.

You sleep through the night, and even though Peter’s lost feeling in his left arm and it seems like his neck has a permanent crick, he’d do it all again in a heartbeat.

[grippingbeskar]

warmth

ೃ⁀➷ joel miller x fem!reader

❥ content warning; forced proximity, dub!consent, somnophelia, dry humping, swearing

❥ a/n; based on this request! i've had some time off, and am still going through a bit of a strange time in my life, but your guys requests always inspire me to write and create, even if its just a lil bit of joel smut. hehe.

masterlist <3

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

“So this is fun.” You say into the dwindling light of the run down shithole you and Joel are calling home for the night. “Nice and cosy.”

“Cosy?” He parrots, and looks over to what was once a gaping hole in the side of the cabin. You shrug, and sink yourself further into the bundles of blankets you managed to secure.

“S-sure.” Your teeth chatter from the icy surroundings, defeating your point. “Are you sure we can’t start a tiny little fire in here?”

“Whole place is made of wood, darlin’. You’d be toast by mornin’.” His heavy accent floods your body with much needed heat, and you find yourself scooting closer to him on the floor you’ve made your make shift beds on.

“Toast sounds p-pretty good right now.” He laughs slightly, eyes catching your own before dropping back to his lap.

He watches you shift around, bundling yourself closer to trap any body heat you’ve managed to build up, and then takes one of the blankets off the top of his sleeping bag and throws it over you.

“Joel.” You say wistfully, but immediately snatch at the new blanket and add it to your pile. “You’ll get c-cold too.”

“I’ll live.” He says simply, and lays down about a foot away from you. “We should get some sleep.”

“Right.” Your voice is breathless, but still makes a few puffs of cold air as you move yourself down onto the floor of the cabin.

You’re calling it a cabin, but it’s more like a barn the way it’s laid out. It’s smack bang in the middle of a dense forest, with hay everywhere, even in a pile that crunches underneath every time you or Joel shift. It also doesn’t help the fact you are covertly trying to get closer to him— both wanting to steal his body heat and just be close to him.

Joel is a hard man to read. At first you thought he hated you, with all his prolonged silences and gruff remarks. Then, you thought he saw you as a somewhat annoying distant cousin. One that you’d socialise with for a few hours, but then quickly get sick of and look for an excuse to leave them until the next gathering. Once the family bond idea was thoroughly stamped out in a few of his secret heated gazes, or the way his hands would linger on your hips when he unnecessarily lifted you up onto your horse, it was just confusing.

But, you were determined to figure the man out. It’s not like he wouldn’t have your undivided attention anyways. He was a freaking cowboy— straight out of a romance novel. Thick accent, gentlemanly charm and an ass to die for. You were only human.

Still, the hay crunched as you tested your boundaries little by little, as you have been over the past few weeks. Getting closer, lingering longer, smiling sweeter. And it had… well, it affected him in some way, you were sure. But you just don’t know what way. God forbid you go back to the distant cousin stage—

A blast of wind slips through a crack in the walls, and you shudder and ball yourself up.

If Joel hears you, he says nothing, so you just drag the blanket he gave you off the top of your pile and down into the middle so it pressed against you. It smelt just like him— pine and wood and… maybe a little dirt. You two had been travelling for days, and he refused to let you get your hands dirty, so it would make sense.

You buried your face in it, warming the cold tip of your nose and trying to muffle your chattering teeth. It’s a good thing you were covering you mouth, because you nearly squeal when Joel whips around, his chocolate eyes staring right into yours.

“You alright?” He asks, his voice heavy with sleep, and you’d feel bad if his voice didn’t sound so goddamn sexy like that. Right out of a romance novel, you swear.

“Mhmm.” You manage to squeak out, your face covered up to your eyes.

“You lyin’?” He asks, and you repeat yourself. “C’mere.”

At first you’re confused, scrunched eyebrows giving you away. Then Joel pulls back the covers a little, physically inviting you into his chest, and you take the hint embarrassingly fast.

All of a sudden, you’re tucked into Joel’s warmth, surrounded by the smell the blanket only gave you a hint of. You stay face to face, enjoying the ease at which his body warms your hands and nose, and one of his arms drape over your side, keeping itself respectfully in the middle of your body.

Respectfully, you wouldn’t mind if he wandered a little lower, but you tried to keep those feelings at bay.

“Warmer?” He asks tightly as you cling to him, nodding quickly. He mumbles something else, a rough sound only discernible by the way his chest rumbles with it, your cold hands slowly thawing out against it.

"T-thanks." His arm wraps around you tighter when you bury your face in the crook of his neck, the cord of your strange relationship tangling ever so slightly just like your legs do under the covers. "Nice and cosy."

You giggle at your own joke, and he scoffs. "Christ. Go to sleep."

Your laughter fades off as your breathing evens out, and pretty soon you're drifting off into sleep, Joel's arms keeping you warmer than ever.

*you can stop reading here if you aren't a whore. however, i am, so i will continue*

It must be a few hours before your eyes open again. Joel is fast asleep, soft puffs of hair warming the top of your head as your eyes flutter open to complete darkness. You've tangled even more in your sleep, unconsciously wanting to be closer, not just for warmth.

His strong leg nestled between your thighs has nothing to do with body warmth.

When you start to gain a little more of yourself from the cover of sleep, theres a mess between your legs you can't deny. Joel moves slightly as you stir, a choked little whimper escaping your throat as he pushes against you just right. Theres no part of you effected by the cold wind outside— your whole body floods white hot, two strong arms trapping you to feel nothing but the way he's against you.

It's wrong. You should pull away, or wake him up, or do something to drive a wedge between you and Joel. You hardly know for sure if he likes you, let alone wants you like...this.

Then he shifts again, a little roll of his body sending sparks up your stomach, and you make a small sound again.

"You enjoyin' yourself?" You freeze, eyes squeezing shut as you try to deny your body the sleepy pleasure it's taking from him.

"J-joel—" You squeak, a noise embarrassingly high pitched, but his hand tightens on your hip and alleviates some of the nerves.

"It's alright, darlin'. You take what you need." He murmurs, and dips his head, pressing a light kiss underneath your ear. Your hips roll experimentally, and he hums in approval. “That’s it. That’s it.”

"I... oh god, Joel." His hand guides you forward and back, setting a slow but intense fire in your tummy that licks higher and higher every shift.

"How's it feel? Good?" He kisses you again, this time on your cheek.

"S-so good."

"You got no idea how many times I wanted to wake up like this..." You think of all the times you've slept mere inches away from him, but never having the guts to make the move. "Can feel how wet you are f'me."

You shiver, getting more restless as he starts to grind you against his thigh a little faster than before, rocking into you as you slump against his chest again. His free hand grabs your jaw harsher than you expect, bringing your face to his to kiss you hungrily. It's messy and consuming, teeth bashing together as the two of you attempt to find a rhythm that doesn't stop the sweetness of your bodies colliding together.

It shouldn't feel as good as it does, the way your clit runs easily along his now slick thigh, your heart stuttering in your chest as you hear him groan into your mouth, clearly feeling as pent up as you are. The hand on your hip locks under your thigh then, hitching it up higher on his side, the new angle making it all the more intense and having you whine into the kiss.

Joel's tongue dominates your mouth, fills you with the taste of him you've imagined in countless nights alone but never quite perfected. He's overwhelming— pulling you up and on top of him all while keeping your mouth tightly sealed to his own. He swallows your little noises, covering them with his own groans and sighs of your name as you ride him, your mind racing with images of how he'd feel under all these layers.

"Fuck, darlin' I'm not gonna last if you keep..." He breathes out, hands travelling down your back to cup your ass. You lean down and kiss him messily, and move your hips at your own pace, chasing your high.

"It's okay— please, Joel." He grumbles something against your lips, and you just shake your head. "We can do whatever… whatever you want later. Just keep going."

He shudders, your hint of permission enough to send him over the edge. You manage to open you eyes and look at him when he cums, his eyelashes fluttering and his tight jaw going slack with pleasure. That paired with the feeling of his muscles going tight and the way he says your name, you cum with him, your hands gripping tight on his curls and you muffle yourself once again into the crook of his neck.

Neither of you have the energy to move, your overwrought nerves and exhausted body collapsing on top of him. He keeps kissing you lazily, the way your tongues tangle together indulgent of each others tastes. His arms move around you, tucking you in to the blankets so that no part is exposed to the cold, and when your body is covered he gives his hands free reign to roam your skin.

Rough pads of his fingers trail up your spine, pushing up under the layers of clothes to feel your skin against his. As you settle into his soothing touches, the reality that the two of you just came on each other like teenagers has you all hot in the face and shut your eyes tight. He pulls away, his nose nudging your face to look at him.

“You okay, baby?” He says softly, a little smirk on his face when you manage to sneak a look at him. You nod shyly, and his hands drop lower and settle on your ass again before trailing up. “That was… unexpected.”

You look down. “I’m really sorry if I just—“

“No, baby no. Not bad. Good… fucking perfect. Wish I could wake up to that every morning.” He grins, and it takes years off his usual scowling face. “Just thought I’d maybe… take you out first. I got no problem skippin’ straight to dessert though, if that’s what you want.”

“Dinners good.” You smile, and he seems a little relived at that, like maybe he might enjoy it just as much as what comes after. “Desserts good, too.”

He laughs, the sound bouncing off the wooden box of a cabin you’re stuck in, but with Joel holding you like this, the cabin is quickly becoming one of your favourite places in Jackson.

[sparkles-and-trash]

dabihawks au

...where Keigo is a burnt out child and teen actor in his early 20’s that has a shot at a part in a big, serious western movie that's rumored to start casting after the summer.

Luckily his agent knows the owner of this ranch, so his managements sets it up so Keigo will spend the summer there to learn to ride and also get away from the big city life for a while.

Touya's been working at this ranch since he was a teenager that got sent there after a stint in juvie, and ended up staying there to work full time after he finished school.

When he gets told by his mentor, Hakamada, that the owner of the ranch have already said yes to host Keigo, Touya’s not happy to hear it.

He has more than enough to do with the rescues and horse training business as it is, but Yagi, who owns the ranch, has already said he wants Touya to take care of the guy, so he doesn’t really have a choice. 

After some discussion the new deal is that Keigo will be staying at the ranch for two weeks at first, to make sure that he doesn’t get in the way too much, and if Touya and Hakamada accepts him he’ll stay for the entire summer. 

Touya plans to make sure he won’t have to look after some spoiled actor the whole summer, but Hakamada keeps reminding him to give the guy a chance, and he isn't scared to bring up how Touya was once the guy who needed a chance, which pisses off Touya even more at this point.

When he shows up, Keigo is trying to seem all chill and charming, but Touya spots the dark circles under his eyes, and the way he seems sort of desperate to have everyone like him, which makes Touya not like him right away.

He could never stand fake people, which is why he's most happy around horses after all.

Touya is supposed to have the actor help him out with the rescues, but he's really not letting him do any of the real work, making Keigo fetch and put out horse after horse, drive around wheelbarrows, lift heavy saddles and basically do all the hard, thankless work Touya doesn't feel like.

He's gonna break this idiot so fast he'll run away with his tail between his legs before the two weeks are up.

But then one morning Touya spots Keigo in a pasture he's really not supposed to be in, with a horse he has no idea how he got there, and it turns out Keigo had misunderstood and accidentally handled even though the horse was way too scared and aggressive, but somehow with Keigo, the horse seems totally fine.

Well shit.

So now Touya actually lets the stupid blond help with the horses, and of course he turns out to be a natural.

Not with riding, though, which brings Touya great joy.

To see the usually calm and cheerful actor bounce around in the saddle like a sack of potatoes was rewarding in itself, but when he realizes that Keigo himself is having a blast, not caring how stupid he looks, openly laughing at himself...

Maybe he's just a little bit cute, after all.

When the two initial weeks are up, Keigo is looking like a different person.

His hair is slightly longer and lighter from the sun, his dark circles are gone, he has a farmers tan and the sun has brought out a bunch of freckles over his nose and cheeks.

Touya finds himself hoping he takes up the offer to stay for the summer, after all.

//

This was supposed to be a fic once upon a time, but it got away from me, sooo I decided to make some drabbles out of it in stead!

Maybe I'll do more with it, maybe not, but it helped me get out of my writing slump and that's good enough for me!

[samalong1]

Yandere Orc Gurren headcanons pt 1

Tw

Breeding mentions

Kidnapping

And murder

Mentions of nsfw

You lived in a small village so far away from the capitol that the king's laws and protection rarely touched your town, afterall why bother if monsters raid your village, by the time knights arrive they'd be long gone.

Because of this your village was poor which in its own twisted way caused less raids, you average gremlin clan would rather hit one of the fancy villages instead of one where at most you can get a few sheep and maybe some grain.

But lately whenever gaurds or suppliers do arrive you hear gossip, gossip of a clan of orcs tearing through towns, killing any civilian so they can make the kingdom their own.

The whole village was on edge. Kids were no longer allowed to go outside past early noon, a curfew was issued fir the whole town, and some braze folks hid weopons, although it's almost impossible then to kill a orc even more so one in a clan, since if you managed to stab one another one would simply snap your neck. Guess it was just to show some sort of resistance

Luckily you were too busy making deliveries for your shoe maker dad.

You were lucky, oblivious to the extent rarely hearing the gossip.

When you got back from a unusually long trip you were confused upon seeing a crowd

As you ushered to the front to see what was happening.

A clan of orcs making demands, not just simple ones but enough of your crops and animals that the village would starve in the winter. But if the village refused they'd be slaughtered.

You stared at what you assumed was the leader

He was Big

Even bigger than the orcs next to him, with his giant muscles, his hands were bigger then your whole head!

You soon regretted staring when his gaze shifted to you

Gurren stared at the small plump woman

Her terrified wide eyes, her soft body, and her breeding hips made his breath hitch

So when the village refused his demands he coudnt help but grab you as he burnt your village to the ground

Your scream and sobs were music to his ears

"Bag anything useful" he said still holding you over his shoulder like a sack of meat

You were soon thrown over his horse as he mounted it. He made sure his horse ran like the wind so you coudnt escape without being launched off onto the tough forest ground.

He was going to enjoy you already imagining what you'd look like waiting inside his dwelling for him to come home from his hunts, God the thought of you welcoming him home while being swollen with his children, a baby orc in your arms he wanted them to have your eyes.

He was drooling and some of that drool fell on you to your disgust

Soon he arrived at the campsite

"Tonight we celebrate Borg start a fire and pour the drinks*

Orcs were loud

You were stuck on the leader's lap as they all shouted and drank beer

It was pretty obscene sometimes the leader who you overheard being called Gurren would swing his cup and spill beer over you

"Watcha naming the pretty thing" one laughed before drinking again

You were loosing your name, the last thing that attached you to your now ruined village

He seemed to be thinking even rubbing his chin "hmmmmm y/n yea yea y/n nice pretty name for a pretty small thing" he slurred seeming to get drunkened

God what was in that beer to make a orc that big get drunk

He stared at you soon chuckling "hehe God your gonna be the perfect little mate so pretty" he cooed gently petting your head

You blushed as he showered you with compliments soon nuzzling into you as his beard scratched your neck

God you felt like you had carpet burn on your neck

Soon you were carried bridal style to his tent

With him being drunk you had a hope of escaping

Thst was until you had a giant orc laying ontop of you head resting on your boobs like they were the best pillows

Was he purring?????

The giant orc leader was purring like a cat

@ofallthingsnasty

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Moonbloom

Time for Nightmare to finish up some loose ends! Don't worry :3 it is a good one in my opinion <3

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

We good? Lets go! (also be ready because it is a long one.)

*------------------*

Nightmare looks around their garden but still can't spot Killer. Maybe he went to their nest? Seems weird as Nightmare thought he would be working on the grapes at the moment.

Still. Best search there. He walks back towards the house as he weaves between the grapes and vines growing. The first layer is looking amazing and beautiful!

He gets to the set of stairs and walks back into the house. Finding Killer is easy as he is laying in their nest watching something on the TV. A fan aimed at him to help keep him cool in the summer heat.

Killer blinks and grins "OUr little nightlight!" and Nightmare gets grabbed and snuggled close. Nightmare hums happily as he leans into the snuggles for a moment.

Killer grins as he lounges "Come watch westerns with me! It iwll be fun." and he grins.

Nightmare glances at the tv for a moment, it shows a cowboy on the back of a horse with the show having this yellowish colour over it. Nightmare hums "later?"

Killer grins "Sure. What do you want to do now?"

Nightmare rubs his hands before muttering "can... can you do soemthing for me?"

Killer nods "sure! what is it?"

Nightmare smiles as he leans against Killer before he asks his request. It had been on his mind for a while now and with him fixing Dani and Ellie's tree farm... He thinks this may actually work.

--------

Grillby cleans the bar and sighs. Another long night after an even longer day.

His club is profitable and it keeps others safe but he does not enjoy owning it. Grillby had always wanted to own his own business but not like this.

Sadly this is where their fate had let them.

He finishes with the bar and goes about checking the seating area and dancing area. Finding some very dubious stains. A deeper sigh but he gets to work.

He tries not to let his mind wander as he works. It is better to focus or the ever present heat that is now just a part of life.

He finally finishes up his normal round as he leaves his building. His flame flickering a bit brighter at the sight of Sans.

Sans notices him and grins "Sup Grills!"

Grillby is very lucky that even after everything and how everyone spoke about hi that Sans still speaks to him. He knows this.

They walk together as the move to waterfall. Sans takes out the umbrella and hands it to him wordlessly. Grillby takes it and the two continue walking "Thank you again for coming with me."

Sans grins at him "Hey no worries. I always love hanging out with you~" and he gives a wink and sweet smile.

It is ruined by someone whistling loudly "Hey Sans! Down to fuck later? I can show you a real boner!!" loud laughter after.

Sans just shoots them a look and glances up and down before smiling a bit sharper but still oh so sweet "Hon I don't think you have the stamina to keep it up or do anything near pleasing~ Maybe best practise a few rounds first." and the walk pass them.

No real conversation after that as the peaceful mood had been ruined.

Grillby misses Sans. Sans used to go to his club and dance there. Spend time there. It had been something Grillby honestly enjoyed. The heat that went through him felt more real when it was focused and about Sans. It had been honest as Grillby had always felt that way.

Sans had throw his whole mindset into dancing and other work at his club when the experiment failed. Sans sadly took the burn of most of that failure even if there had been more scientists at work on an artificial heat to help their reproduction.

Sadly Sans had been the best known among everyone and so ended up being the black sheep of it all.

Grillby had just been happy to have Sans near even when everything changed drastically... Eventually his inaction got to much and Sans left after one too many comments.

Girllby still misses him daily.

Maybe another reason why he had tried so hard to do right for that tiny child. A tiny skeleton looking so young. Grillby tried to not let it interfer but it had been so hard. He had just wanted to do right and something for once.

He still wonders how that tiny child is doing. He hadn't told another soul. Too afraid what some heat affected monsters would do.

"Grillby? Is something wrong?"

Grillby looks back at Sans and sees those pink eye lights watch him. Grillby always gets lost in that face and those eyes.

Grillby had come close to confessing what happened that night to Sans. So close. but he is afraid that Sans will just be disappointed in him. For not getting the child to a safe location. to hide it from him for so long. Grillby thinks this underground will actually be hell if Sans stopped talking to him.

A loud whistle and Grillby and Sans both look over annoyed. Only for Sans to freeze and Grillby can only assume it is shock. BEfore that is another skeleton. yet they are dressed strange.

Well strange for them.

They are in constant heat after all. Meaning everyone feels hot and too hot all the time. Everyone loves wearing and showing off their bodies. It is why Grillby is wearing his minimal outfit. It is why Sans is wearing the shortest shorts possible and that little top as he keeps his coat low and barely on.

This skeleton? Is wearing shorts but they cover his legs until his knees. he is wearing sneakers to finish that side up. Upwards? A black turtle neck, a sweater version at that.

Another very strange thing about them? The black tar like tears streaming down their cheeks. The completely empty sockets. and well, the out and proud soul is a very bold choice. Even for the monsters who like to attract all the attention. They are grinning widely at them.

Grillby blinks but suddenly feels Sans grab his hand and pull him back. Sans has yet to look away from the other skeleton but... but that look? That... that is fear... What? Who?

Grillby frowns "Sans?"

Sans shoots him an anxious look before glancing around at all the water. he pushes the umbrella fully in his arms "You need to go grillby." their is desperation in his voice.

Grillby does not feel the need to go. in matter of fact. if this person freaks Sans out of all mosnters? That means this person is dangerous and Grillby is not leaving his friend alone. He instead looks at the other skeleton.

Who is just... standing there? Grinning widely as they.... swing? They lean back and forth as they swing their arms slightly to keep the motion going. moving their weight from the toes of their feet to the very back. completely relaxed.

Sans glares at him and hisses "I am serious. Go."

Grillby just looks at the other and shakes his head "no."

Sans opens his mouth to speak again but the other speaks up "You two love birds done? Like. I can wait but i kinda got places to be and stuff." they grin as they lean on their fist. Almost like a thinking position but instead of the fist under the chin they lean against it with their cheek.

Sans glares "Why are you here?"

Grillby frowns at his friend "Sans who is this?"

Sans glances at him unsure before glaring back at the other.

This seems to have been a sign the other was waiting for as they just, bounce and skip over. The thrust out their hand "The name is Killer!"

Grillby stands frozen. Because he feels it. What the other sends out. This... this monster...

Grillby can't help it and sends a check.

The information just makes it worse.

This monster has a lot of LOVE.

Killer pouts "Tough crowd." he pulls his arm back and crosses his arms.

Sans glares at him and hisses "You are not allowed to be here. Leave."

Grillby has no doubt that Sans knows just how dangerous Killer is, Sans seems to actually know this guy but... but how?

Killer snorts and waves Sans off "Oh calm down I am not even causing trouble. Anyway. I kinda am here for a thing so cool your jets."

Sans just crosses his arms "I will ends a message to the Stars. I got an emergency vial and I will break it."

Killer raises a brow and smirks sharper "Then I won't be able to complete my job here Lavender..." then he leans closer "Or should I say... Ace?" and he winks "Must suck to have such conflicting needs."

Grillby doesn't think as he pulls Sans behind him. That... that is a very private secret. A soft admission that Sans once entrusted to Grillby. Why Sans hates this heat so much. How he doesn't even desire sex or want it. Yet this heat makes him need and crave it. It messes with his mind.

Grillby glares at Killer and Killer grins as he shrugs "eh. Not my fault he can't take what he dishes out." he grins wider "You know! Becuase he fucks people even when he doesn't desire people- wow!" Killer dodges the fireball Grillby shot at him.

Killer looks at where Grillby's magic attack his the ground "Man! Is it good I picked this spot to search you out! Could have been a hazard if a fire spread in an underground." he looks over "Anyway. I came with a message."

Grillby is about to say he doesn't care when Killer speaks the next sentence.

"From your little friend in the alleyway."

Grillby freezes again. Sans asks him what the other meant but Grillby can't. He can't believe it.

Killer nods with an understanding look "Ah yes. What do you mean? How could that be? In that case. Just so you know. While he liked the pulled beef a lot his favourite of the selection was the pork." and he grins.

The food. He had given the other food. And aparently the little one actually ate it all. his arm slowly falls to his side.

Killer grins and nods "I know right? anyway. I am here because of that." and he shrugs.

Sans frowns "What have you guys been doing here?!"

Killer sighs "calm down lavender. This doesn't actually concern you you know? You are just part of this conversation because you were near him at the time." and he shrugs.

Sans frowns and looks to the side for a moment "I... heard some stuff... from Dream-"

Killer pulls out a knife and aims it at Sans. Sans freezes and Killer grins. Girllby frowns but then sees the drop of blood on the knife edge and the very small cut on Sans's cheek.

Killer grins sharply "None of that now Lavender. I am here with a small mission. No need to include either the gang or the stars. This is a matter of repaying something owned. Calm now? Eithr you stay quiet or... well." he grins sharper "You want to test out how quickly a reset happens to fix a... missing link?"

Sans freezes as he shoots Grillby a nervous glance. Grillby is just very confused. what are these two talking about "Sans?" or Lavender? Why does Killer keep calling Sans that?

Killer stares for a while longer and Sans evneutally sighs and nods. Going silent but not leaving his side.

Killer hums and smiles brightly again. the threatening and freezing air around them disappears "That is what i thought!" is this what LOVE does to a monster? Grillby knew it was dangerous but this is on another level.

Killer sighs "Anyway. your alleyway friend wanted to thank you for your assistance. Which is why I am here. To repay that favour."

Grillby can't keep it in anymore "is he safe? Is he with his family again?" he remembers the poor child saying his mother was gone "With his dad? other parent?"

This is when Sans stares at him in shock and mutters a "what?"

Grillby looks anxiously at Killer but Killer just raises s brow and makes the 'go ahead' motion.

Grillby thinks it over before finally saying it "A long while ago. More than a year..." almost a year and a half honestly "I... i had a very curious visitor. a tiny monster dressed in a large hoody. but... it turned out to be a child... a skeleton one."

Sans gasps and thinks for a moment before shooting Killer a look of disbelieve.

Killer just grins and makes the 'zip it' motion.

Sans shallows "you mean those rumours..."

Killer glares as he crosses his arms "people need to learn to keep their large mouths shut." he turns back to Grillby himself "As to answer your question. he is fine. he is back at home with his parents. perfectly safe and healthy."

Grillby feels a deep relieve and lets out a sigh "Thank you... I ahd been worried... I assume you... you got him home?"

Killer blinks at him before shrugging as he stuffs his hands into his pockets "euh. pretty much."

Grillby can't help but smile. Maybe... maybe this monster isn't that bad? he cared enough to bring a child home to his family. he cared enough to help get the child a message back to Grillby. That must mean something. Sans must have made the same conclusion as he grins and crosses his arms. "Didn't realise that you guys now did babysitting."

Killer shoots him a glare "Don't test your luck Lavender." he sighs louder "anyway! Can we now finally get to the point i have been trying to get to?! The present?" and he waits.

Grillby and Sans share a look and both nod.

Killer huffs "finally! Anyway!" he messes with his pocked and out comes a full flower. it is a very pale purple with four petals. the petals are kinda cresent shaped and point upwards. It is small but nice enough.

Killer nods and marches over "Okay. here you go. Yes you can safely touch it as long as you don't want to burn it." Girllby carefully takes the flower over. That is when it hits him. the flower is the same colour as the small child's eyes had been.

Sans looks at it curiously and tilts his skull "that is... new?"

Killer waves it off "Yeah he is sitll workshopping the name. anyway. hold i got a list for this shit." he makes a victorious noise as he pulls out a piece of paper and reads "okay. okay... lets see. growing and spreading. As long as there is room and the flower is unbothered it will grow copies of itself. so it doens't need water."

Killer snorts as he looks up "Goot news you don't need to handle water for this flower. but yeah just kinda. I dunno. find a spot no one visits and plant sit if you want a shit load of them.but if you don't care about spreading it a lot lot you can just kinda put it in a pot or something."

Grillby looks down at the small flower and smiles. He is so thankful for this wonderful gift. a reminder that he at least managed to help one person.

Killer keeps looking at his little list "okay! So. One petal a person is enough but takes a few days to take effect. For instant but temporary effects just make tea."

Sans blinks "what is the effect?"

Killer opens his mouth. frowns and closes it. looks abck at his list. then shrugs at them "I was not told. I knew we were forgetting something. but. euh." he shrugs again "can you blame him? He is six."

Sans makes a small noice as he looks excited as he glances at Grillby "You saw a six year old babybones?"

Grillby nods and Sans sighs wishfully "I am so jealous. so so jealous."

Killer grins and shrugs "bet. anyway. lets see. oh the last point. The flowers will regrow the petals but can't grow more flowers if they are healing. so if you want a lot of petals you will need to grow flowers first." he grins at them "and that is it. with that done. bye!" he waves nad turns around. He walks back into the shadows and Girllby is left with a small flower in his hands. so fragile and small but beautiful.

Sans looks at him curiously "Want to get a nice large pot and plant the little plant? get more started?"

Grillby nods and they go in a slightly different direction. They get the right supplies and quickly go back to Grillby's house.

Grillby watches as Sans plants the flower for him. Grillby still worried his flames may harm to tiny plant. He just didn't wish to risk it. it takes very little time and they sit on the couch together for a moment.

Grillby can't sotp it anymore "Who even was that?"

Sans frowns as he srhugs "jsut... someone i know...."

Grillby frowns more as he feels that Sans isn't telling him what is wrong "Why did he keep calling you Lavender?" that is a new name. Sans has been called lust by others before, partly as insult because snas play in making the ever present heat. but also as comment on his looks and how desired he was.

Sans shrugs and mutters "I dunno... prefered that over the alternative..."

Grillby frowns "Sans... what..." he deosn't even know what he wants to ask.

Sans just shakes his skull "it... it doesnt matter at the moment... I am sorry you got so close to being hurt..." he rubs his arm and looks away with guilt.

Grillby hums "not your fault." and lets it go for now. his sight finds the flower. curiousity gets the best of him "Want to test those petals with me?"

Sans laughs before glancing at the flower "sure... petal or tea?"

Grillby hums and stares at the flower. feeling a bit reckless "lets just do a whole petal. That way it is done and no need to question it anymore."

Sans looks thoughtful before nodding. Sans pulls off two petals with care before handing one of grillby.

Grillby feels the petal. it is soft and seems fragile but it doesn't even seem to notice his flames. Sans grins and winks at him before both of them just eat the petal.

It tastes strange... slightly of grapes of all flavours. Grillby doesn't taste any of the drugs he is familiar with and he made sure to test those when he was safe. Just to make srue which flavours to not include in food and drinks. make sure nothing can get masked by his things.

They sit together but nothing happens.

Sans hums "the note of the kid did mention that it would take a while. Talking about that." he turns to him adn smiles "kid?"

Grillby chuckles but happily, and finally, shares the story of that day. How sweet the young child had looked but how afraid he had been.

It is nice.

-------

Grillby wakes up the same as always. he makes breakfast as he always does. But then he realises it. what he feels.

or better said. what he doesn't feel.

Grillby is in such shock that he actually drops the plate he had been holding.

It is gone.

the heat within his soul.

It is gone.

He doesn't think as he rushes out of his house. He throws open the door and gets hit by the cold of the air.

It is cold!

Also it is VERY cold!

He grabs his jacket before rushing to Sans's house. He gets there and knocks on the door. loudly.

a grumble and a disgruntled Papyrus opens the door. Papyrus shoots him a look. tired and slightly knowing "Sans is asleep after working last night." he gives him a pointed look.

Grillby still isn't sure how Papyrus figured out about Grillby's interest, but it may have to do something with Grillby always giving Sans the center stage and best hours and let sans keep most of the tips he earned. Now that Grillby thinks about it he was rather obvious.

Grillby shakes his head "It is nothing like that. I need to talk to him. I know it is very early and i apologise."

Papyrus looks annoyed but lets him in wiht a loud sigh. Papyrus orders him to wait there for a moment before moving upstairs to Sans's room.

Grillby waits as he tries to ignore the very pointed decoration. his soul still blissfully cool towards it all. even if he can smell the familiar scent of Sans's perfume.

It doens't take long for Papyrus and Sans to walk downstairs. Sans looks adorable disheveled as he joins him on the couch. Sans is still so pretty even without all the make up and short cut clothes.

Ppayrus sends Grillby another look before loudly proclaiming that he will be making breakfast.

Sans shoots him a tired look "Not that i don't enjoy visits... but we don't really have the same working hours anymore Grills."

Grillby shakes his head and tries to focus on the now "Sans. please. focus and tlel me I am not the only one here."

Sans frowns at him as he tilts his skull.

Grillby keeps staring at him "Notice anything gone? something... burning that is no longer burning?"

Sans stares at him before snorting "Is this the set up for a pun? I mean i love a good pun but you didn't need to wake me up-" he stops mid sentence. sockets wide as one hand slowly raises up to touch his sternum "it is gone."

They share a look and Sans rushes to his room "Give me a moment to get dressed!"

Grillby nods before quickly shouting after him "Make sure to grab a jacket!"

Papyrus shoots them a weird look from his kitchen and Grillby has no way to explain it just quite yet.

Sans rushes back downstairs, with a jacket on thank everything. They quickly say goodbye to Papyrus and rush out together. They run back to Grillby's house as Sans speaks "The flower?"

Grillby answers immediantly "I think it had to be! That is the only thing different about us compared to everyone."

They get back and find the garden pot they had planted the flower in four days ago. It took almost two days for the flower to recover fully from the picked petals but over the next two days the one flower had grown into four.

Sans stares at him in shcok "this... this can fix everything..."

Grillby nods before frowning at his tiny pot "We can maybe plant three of these four somewhere else. with more room to really let them spread. I can keep the last one safe just in case."

Sans nods as he takes out the garden tools he had left here last time and gets to work "great idea. I remember a cavern in the forest which no one really visits. we can plant them there and let them spread in peace."

Grillby nods as he watches Sans work. this could fix everything.

----

Killer strokes the small skull leaning against his sternum as he watches tv. the western is nearing its conclusion as the hero talks about needing to go as the open fields call to him. the main lady is heartbroken and begs him to stay. usual stuff.

Killer looks at Nightmare "What was the flower anyway?"

Nightmare yawns and shoots him a look "should fix the issue there." and he snuggles close.

Killer grins and holds the baby close. euh. whatever. Not his problem. his problem is just making sure the baby is happy and content.

*-----------------------*

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

Remember how Nightmare is now the god of restoration? You can push that concept VERY far :3

If Fate finds out Nightmare is messing with universes and stuff like this she/he/they will be pissed.

Anyway!!

Baby repayed his debt!

[fan-goddess]

Hi, for a Kinktober request I’m thinking face sitting and osferth maybe reader and I’m on the road neither can sleep so what else would they do with their time lol- got to be quiet though 😭

Thanks

Authors Note: Changed it up a little so the couple had their own space. Still, hope you like it. I found it strangely resistant to write this so I hope i did it good

Warnings: F oral, kind of pining, religious talk, face riding, talk of m oral at the end (if I miss any let me know)

Taglist: @sofiyathecunt, @marvelgirl123, @sylasthegrim, @mochi-rose, @valeskafics, @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @blue-serendipity, @omgbcat

Your exact relationship with the sweet monk you accompanied had always been unknown. The two of you were close as friends could be yes, but there was always this almost dance between you two. A dance that tipped over the lines between what was the normal for friends and what was for lovers.

It was even being danced now.

For that night, a sudden onslaught of bad weather had hit you all. The paths had become much too windy and slippery for the horses to manage the journey back to Mercia, meaning you all needed to stay another night in the village you were currently staying in.

The tavern you had all been saying at much to your annoyance, had become much busier than you’d wished. For now there was only two rooms left for the five of you to divide. Yet much to your annoyance, Finan and Sihtric seemed to take this new information with stride.

Finan most of all. As he all but pushed you and Osferth together into one of the two rooms with a booming cackle of a laugh.

“Ya might want to be careful tonight lass! He may be a wee monk, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t know his way around a ladies knickers!” Finan called out as he closed the rooms door behind him. The sound of his and Sihtric shared laughter softening as they walk the way to their own shared room with Uhtred.

Silence made itself known, as neither you nor Osferth could seem move from the sudden involvement. But from the corner of your eye, you could see Osferths face steadily turning a deep shade of red from what you guessed to be shame and embarrassment.

Usually you would not partake in the type of belittlement usually directed towards Osferth, but when he was as bashful as he was now, who were you to resist such temptation?

“Oh my? Is the little monk no longer a little virgin?” You smiled. Much to your amusement, osferths face seemed to only darken with blush, and his hands seem to have begun to fiddle with themselves as well out of pure bashfulness. “Hmm. Interesting…” You muse with a widening smile.

The noise only seems to set him off even more. As he begins to make noises on what you can only think are beginnings to sentences of which he cannot seem to continue.

“It is okay Osferth, really!” You say, walking to him and putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You need not to explain yourself to me-“

“But I must explain myself to you my lady!” He exclaims, stepping away from you as his right hand grasps at the little cross that dangles around his neck.

It was wrong to think about at that time, but the sight of his thumb caressing the item so sensually makes your mind adrift to other unholy things…

“But why me?”

“Because…! Because… because I care about you deeply! That is why I care!” The silence that makes itself known is horrifying. Although it isn’t silent at all. The sound of your own rapidly beating heart is the only thing you can hear.

“What if… what if I care deeply about you too…” You mutter looking to the floor. When you look back up to see Osferths face in fear of seeing his disgust, you find yourself standing almost face to face with the monk. His eyes look different to how they were not even five minutes ago. They looked dark, and hungry.

If you were to look back and try and decide on who kissed who, neither of you could be sure. As one minute the two of you were staring intently at each other, and the next the two of you were kissing each other like your lives had depended on it.

“Get on the bed my lady for me please?” Osferths begs as he detaches himself from your lips.

It’s strange to hear Osferth requesting such things of you. But you cannot deny that the ache in your lower region makes you certainly not mind it, as you follow his plea and lay on the bed for him, and look at him with wanton eyes.

“Now, take off your clothes.” There is no plea this time. It’s a demand. And by the way his eyes have somehow darkened to something unrecognisable, there is no room for discussing it.

After you strip and lay yourself on the bed, for the first time in a long while you feel the nerves begin to take over, and your arms move to cover yourself in an attempt of modesty.

“Don’t move my lady…” Osferth murmurs, leaving forward to take your arms delicately in his hands and stop them from covering you any more. “For I have one of gods miracles in front of me and I wish to savour it as long as I can…” For being a supposed chastity abiding monk, Osferth certainly knows what he’s doing. Much to your slight annoyance and thrill.

Yet the confidence doesn’t seem to last for long.

“My lady, do you trust me?” He says, leaning forward so he’s face to face to you.

“Of course Osferth. Why do you ask?”

“I-I… well…” He pauses for a moment, his hands fiddling with each other as if in an attempt to delay his nerves. “I will not dishonour you. I cannot lay with you unless we were wed. So I, I wish to have you on my face so I can give you pleasure.”

“Oh…” A breathless noise escapes you which you yourself don’t even recognise. Something you do recognise however, is the ever increasing warmth spreading by your legs.

“Will you let me do this to you darling? Will you ride my face for your pleasure?”

With an eager nod of your head, Osferth took your actions as an eager ues with a chuckle, before laying himself flat on his back and beckoning you to come to him with a motion of his head. His hands latch onto your naked thighs when you get close enough, and despite Osferths best efforts to pull you onto him you still try and persist.

“Osferth if I sit fully on you you’ll suffocate!” You insist.

“Then what a glorious way to die!” He laughs, before softly rubbing at your flushed skin with a single thumb. “You will not crush me my darling. If I need air though, I will tap on your leg three times. How about that?”

“Better…” You smile, trying to resist the urge to go insane at the way he holds you with such precision and softness at the same time.

Yet when you feel his rough hands bringing you down to his eager awaiting tongue, that is when you knew you must’ve died and gone to heaven.

His tongue dips inside of you, the wet and warm muscle feeling like nothing you’ve ever felt before. And the way his nose perfectly nudges against your clit as he slightly shakes his head, makes your fingers clench into his hair so hard that he groans and whines into the depth of your warmth with great vigour.

Osferth pushes you to feel an pleasure through your whole body that you’ve never felt before, and his rough hands that roughly forbid you from moving strikes a chord of something deep inside of you that brings you to grip Osferths hair in your own right grip.

As you begin to rut your cunt on his face like some sort of animal in heat, a deep sounding groan comes from straight from his chest, as if Osferth was receiving pleasure just from the act of you using him to get off.

He does this again and again as you use him. Until eventually your find yourself tightening and clenching on his warm tongue as you peak, juices dripping into his mouth as Osferth swallows it all greedily and willingly.

His tongue begins to lick up any remaining juices from inside of you, unrelenting even as you try and lift yourself away from him with overstimulation.

“Osferth please! It’s too much!” You cry, your legs aching and beginning to cramp with the position you were in.

Eventually though, Osferths grip calms, and when you allow yourself to collapse on the bed and look at your newfound lover, a whole new wave of arousal pulses through you at the sight of your juices covering his chin. You can even feel your mouth widening slightly at the sight of his tongue darting out to lick at the juices he can get, before using his fingers to scoop up any he couldn’t reach.

Any words you were about to say melt from the heat of your cheeks before you can dare to say them. So it’s with great satisfaction when Osferth speaks first.

“Did, Was that good for you, my lady?” He asks meekly. You already know the look of disbelief is evident on your face. How could a man who gave you pleasure so easily and so willingly be so suddenly withdrawn and shy?

“It was nothing like I had ever felt before my sweet Osferth,” You sigh with a warm smile, positioning yourself next to him to your arm could freely trace the sharp edges of his face. “Which is why I feel so eager to give you that same pleasure. So please my love, get on your back and undress so I can pleasure you like you did for me.”

And with a sharp intake of breath, you give Osferth a quick kiss on his lips before he undoes his shirt and begins to undress.

“If you insist my darling…”

[rambosgirl]

Sheriff's Daughter Pt.2

If you haven't read part 1, it's right here

The pair had been walking for some time, eventually making it to the main road that lead into town, talking and learning about each other as they went.

Rambo learned that you lived with your parents in the town they were walking to, called Hope, and you frequently visited the less fortunate where they just were. He thought that was sweet.

You learned that the man beside you wasn't the most talkative person, but he did tell you a bit about himself when you asked. His name was John, John Rambo, a war veteran from Vietnam. He was here to try and meet up with a fellow soldier, Delmar he said, but it turned out he had passed away from cancer.

You had already known that from helping his wife, you just didn't know he was so close to him.

"I'm so sorry to hear that John." Your heart sank for him.

"Thank you, I just don't know where to go next."

"You can stay in Hope, I can help you," you started, "If I told my father about you I'm sure he'd help you too." You spoke enthusiastically, something John thought to be cute, but more realistically, it was probably just wishful thinking.

"Your enthusiasm is...refreshing," he started, "but not everyone is as kind as you are."

The two of you continued walking in silence for a while. It wasn't awkward like one would think. It was actually quite peaceful. You were able to walk in the company of one another while taking in the late autumn beauty that surrounded you, the occasional car passing you by. After more time had passed, you broke the silence.

"Hey John?"

"Yeah," came his reply.

"I have to turn soon to get home, kind of a back way into the neighborhood..." you paused, "I have to take care of my horse, but I'm going into town after, so maybe I'll see you there?" The truth was, you really wanted to see him again, you just didn't want to say it out loud.

John seemed to like that idea, or so you thought. He was a little harder to read to you, so you weren't sure.

The truth for him was, he really did like that idea, and he was about to bring it up. He didn't normally like spending time with others, but you? You made it easy.

"Yeah, I'll probably be getting some food if I can."

You assumed that was his way of inviting you to join him.

"That's a good thing you're hungry, I know the perfect place. I'll try to be quick so you don't get too bored," you said, giving him a bright smile.

"The perfect place, huh?" A small chuckle escaped him. "Yeah, I can do that."

You slowed your pace, eventually stopping so you could make your turn. You pointed ahead of you.

"See the bend in the road? Just beyond that is Hope. Just turn right. I'll meet you in front of the police station on the main road and then we can go eat together."

"Got it," he said, looking over at that bridge. He turned to look at you. "Thank you."

"It's my pleasure." You looked at him a moment longer before continuing. "I'll see you in a bit."

He nodded but kept his eyes on the road for a bit to make sure you were safe starting down your path before continuing on his own.

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

You got home fairly quick, not wanting John to wait too long without you. As you passed the pasture in your backyard, you saw your buckskin gelding, Bullet, happily munching on the rest of his breakfast alfalfa.

"Did dad feed you this morning?" you asked him. He just kept eating in response.

When you walked into the house, you noticed your father had already left for work. You wanted to do something nice for him for feeding Bullet, so you went outside to your small fruit trees and grabbed the fruit to bring to the police station. You quickly changed into a warmer outfit, since it was getting colder than you thought and you wanted to take Bullet into town.

'If I take Bullet, I can get to the police station faster and meet John,' you thought as you made your way out of the house and headed to your small barn to grab your steed.

You and Bullet made it to the main street, the police station in sight. You tied his lead rope to a post nearby and walked in with the fruit basket, automatically hearing a chorus of greetings from the officers there. You knew all of them from visiting so often for your dad, and often some would flirt with you. You tried to ignore it most of the time since to you, the only genuinely nice officer was Mitch, a younger redhead deputy.

"Hey, where's my dad?" you asked a group of officers.

"He went out in his car a while ago. Should be back soon," Mitch said walking closer to you. You offered him a small smile before opening your mouth to respond.

"Oh alright. I'll just -- "

"What have you got there little lady?" You turned to see Arthur Galt there, trying to see in your basket.

"It's just fruit, Arthur", you started, looking at him sternly. "and it's for my dad."

You were starting to stress out a bit. John was probably out there waiting for you while you were inside. You had to hurry this up.

"Well, Dad could be a while so I'll just leave these here for him. And don't eat all of them before he gets here please?" You asked, looking at Arthur and Mitch before beginning your journey toward the front doors.

It turned out you didn't have to wait for your dad much longer, as you saw him walking up from outside. The only problem was that John was with him. In handcuffs.

----

@akitasblogs @dumbasssimp Here it is! So sorry this took so long for part 2! My motivation is back so hopefully it stays long enough for me to get another part out soon

[deepwoodmotte2]

ok me again many thoughts this evening!formal investigation into cregan x dornish reader if you write dorne as a generic combination of South American/Latinx cultures below!! (inspired by me, who is Latinx. super super promise i am not being weird i was making salchipapas while I thought about this the first time.) (reader is referred to as a princess, she/her pronouns. her appearance isn’t referred to besides long hair. i can also write a GN version of this if people want it!!)

ok so in my mind cregan would only be likely to end up with a dornish reader if the war necessitated it, OR, in my favorite rendition, she was his third wife. I love Alysanne blackwood too much to write her out entirely. so cregan, single dad again at, say, 35, attends a council at King’s Landing. Why? Not Important! maybe a grain deal?? but reader, who is a dornish princess, is there as an envoy (think when oberyn attended the wedding!) in place of her parent, the current ruler of dorne. reader is mid or late-twenties, married once before and widowed. she has one unnamed son, who’s 10.)

the council pair off, and somehow, a deal gets struck between the north, dorne, and king’s landing. maybe for spices? and so suddenly you, reader, are having to work very closely with this imposingly tall, broad northerner with a thick beard and long hair and a nose that’s clearly been broken a couple times and apparently a crop of children and you cannot look away. i like to imagine the north as scotland when Scotland was heavily populated by the danish - cregan has a unplaceable accent to you, but his voice is so rich and gently firm that you can’t help but swoon a little. he’s stormy - he’s dour, and he gets a little tiny mischievous smirk when he’s talking sometimes that you think you want to see in your child’s face someday. he’s a bit older than you but in an appealing way, he’s a lord, he looks like that, and you, who have always been independent, strategic, and witty, are suddenly at a LOSS. i always like to imagine my readers with happy families so i’m imagining reader speaking furiously to a bastard sister she’s brought with her in spanish like “¡¡¡si si si !!!!! y es MUY alto y…. tienes que jurarme que guardarás silencio… pero es tan guapo….” and the whole time reader is completely unaware that cregan stark is having a moral crisis in the corner because he doesn’t really just WANT to be like “this is the most beautiful woman i’ve ever seen” he wants to grieve and sit with that for longer for the sake of his children. and so he finds himself at odds. and not about to do anything about it at all!!! dornish princess is ruining his life and she doesn’t even know it!!

and then maybe one day a Lannister or someone else we can guarantee wolf-man would loathe says they intend to ask for your hand. and suddenly cregan realizes he might lose something he never even had - and he never loses. he makes a vow to himself to try, and seeks you out. maybe reader likes to hunt or walk or swim; either way, you’re in the godswood, on a blustery evening, and it’s you and a couple of personal guards. cregan stark rides into the godswood with his own guard, ice on his back, in a light grey tunic with a divet in the middle and riding pants. his boots are black leather, cut high and to his calf. they frame his thighs, which are are as wide as a barrel; the muscle in them ripples when his horse gallops. you are thinking nothing the faith or your septa would approve of. his clavicle peeks through the top of his shirt, the enormous sinewy muscle of his neck visible. you think, for a half second, that he would look ravishing in martell yellow.

you clear your throat. and try not to stare as he comes off his horse and his back muscles peek through the thin material of his shirt. even in this weather, which is not warm, he’s a little sweaty. you don’t realize what he knows - it’s not weather, it’s nerves. you’re exactly what he wants and what he is most terrified of. you’re widowed, too - you know his pain. you’re of high - incredibly so - rank, and you’re beautiful, intelligent, and while he’s unfamiliar with your culture, he wants to know everything he can about it and you. he wants you. he barely knows you and the idea of not getting to further feels like it’s eating him alive. his shirt sticks to his back some more. he turns to face you.

“lord stark-“ he cuts you off, accidentally, but confidently. “Princess, i had hoped to speak to you alone.” you jolt, surprised. had your sister repeated what you’d told her? was he here for council business? had you offended him somehow? you look at him, studying his eyes as best you can as the distance between you slowly closes and he walks forward, and you see, for the first time, an unsureity. he looks afraid. you dismiss your guards as he does.

“what is it you need, lord stark?” his Adam’s apple flexes as he swallows, his neck muscles twitching as his jaw tenses in worry. you’re almost worried - he looks pained. had something happened?

“I thought we might walk while we speak.” you take his arm, gently, trying to look him in the eye. his beard seems unkempt, unlike him. his hair needs to be shorn. he looks wild. you walk, and out of the silence, he says “my first wife, who i married at six and ten, proposed to me. my second wife did the same.” before you can respond, he continues, “as it stands, i have never arranged my own marriage - i… have wandered into them without set intention. it leaves me at a loss then, of knowledge of how to ask.” you swallow, expecting the worst - is he asking you how to propose to someone else? but you’re both too recently widowed, grieving, and then he takes a deep breath in, and says “Princess, i understand that you may not agree to it, and i respect that. i also understand that lannister intends to ask you the same.” you breathe in in shock at that - lannister? - and then go “agree to what, lord stark?” he takes an unconfident stride, turning his face quickly away and then back. you stop walking. you need to look him in the eye.

“i wondered, princess, if you would be willing to be my wife.”

a moment passes. you realize you’ve just been staring at him. he takes a breath in and goes “i have caused-“ you hold a hand up. “you have caused no offense, lord stark. i merely had no expectation of this.” you’re red in the face, but not in a bad way. it’s certainly not warm out right now, for what you’re used to. “i… i would. i would very much like to. i took pause because i did not expect you to ask.”

there’s a long pause before cregan stark asks if he can kiss you. you need him, in every way. your hands grip his shirt collar, his neck, his beard, and eventually, into his hair - one of his hands has encircled your waist, pulling you into him. you are not fragile, nor particularly petite, but you still disappear behind his figure with ease. his beard burns against your skin, but the friction does nothing to cool your fires - he bites at your lip, hard, wolfish, and you gasp, taking in air. he does it again a moment later, and you realize you will end up in this man’s bed, lest it kill you. it goes on for a while before either of you formally come up for air, and it’s only because a raindrop hits you in the forehead.

“i am glad of your offer,” you say, placing a hand on his chest, “and glad of you.” cregan stark, lips red, beard tangled from your hands, hair askew, looks at you like you know a secret. he doesn’t smile, not ever, that you’ve seen. you like to imagine he does for his children. you want to ask about them. (you’ve met his only son, an equally stormy and dour teenager, who you suspect your own son, a boy of ten, all chubby-cheeked and spritey, would find terrifying. cregan and his son, however, seem to share a kindness - an earnest one - and you are not blind to that. you wonder what else there is to cregan you can’t see.) a brevity graces his stern brows, and there is a warmth to his voice previously unheard to you when he says “and i of you, princess.” you smile then, lightly and truly.

[secretwhumplair]

Lessons

1,252 words | The black prince [WT] (sequel to Good morning)

Content | Exhaustion, power imbalance, feelings of inferiority/internalised classism I guess?, implied past noncon, mention of slavery

Notes | Elgar does not know how to stand up for himself :( But it's going to be okay, right?

Taglist | @echo-goes-aaa @whump-blog @scoundrelwithboba @whumpcreations @neverthelass

@whumplr-reader @vampiresprite @pleasestaywithmedarling

It was a long journey, just like Elgar had feared. What he hadn’t predicted was how much he swung back and forth from feeling almost comfortable around the prince, to perfect uncertainty once more. The stops along the road, where they would inevitably be put up somewhere far more fancy than he deserved, didn’t help. Nor did the new clothes he was given as they climbed into higher and colder terrain, soft furs that even he could tell were of great quality, and thick wool dyed many colours expertly woven into patterns too elaborate for someone like him.

It was disconcerting, and it was exhausting to be so worried all the time.

To make matters worse, it had been decided he should take lessons in the precious resting time. Not just what little help the royals could give him with the language—he would have a proper tutor for that, the princess reassured him, and that too was a scary thought—but etiquette lessons too. It was important he would know how to act by the time they reached the capital, the prince had explained, looking at him earnestly while his sister read off what he had written for Elgar, because Elgar still couldn’t read. It was important.

And worst of all, he was getting riding lessons.

The princess had asked him if he was ready to start within the week of them setting out from Akreh; clearly, she was the impatient type, and Elgar, of course, didn’t want to displease her, so there was only really one answer he could give.

And so, while the prince was sitting comfortably by, or even resting indoors, he was learning to ride.

It was a small comfort that the horse—Sparrow, he still hadn’t gotten used to thinking of her as his own—was so easygoing; she barely ever seemed willing to move if she could help it, so there was not much worry she would run away from under him.

But still, it hurt.

He was healing so slowly, what with the daily travelling, and now he had to ride more. In the evenings, he wanted nothing but fall into bed and maybe cry to himself a little, but he knew the prince would worry, and somehow, explaining himself to him seemed worse.

He was no longer worried the prince would be upset with him for daring to voice a wish, at least not all the time; some evenings, they huddled together in a hug before going to sleep hand in hand. And yet, he simply couldn’t bring himself to ask for this specific favour, for this specific reason. Maybe he worried that the prince would tell the princess about the hows and whys of it. Yes, that must be it. That, too, was silly, of course—what dignity did someone like him have to lose in the eyes of a royal?—but it made some sort of sense.

And then, the prince was exhausted too, Elgar could tell. After his first crying session, he was certain that all the smiles and happiness he was putting on all day, whenever anyone might see, was just show, and it must be draining, especially while he, too, was still recovering from what their master had put him through—far worse than Elgar, even if he now had been stitched back together better.

»You’re making great progress! Maybe tomorrow, we can try cantering.«

The princess’ cheerful voice called his attention away from his misery. She was smiling brightly, as if that was good news.

It was true he had been getting better at keeping his balance on the horse, and at giving her the correct signals on his own—it did start to feel like he was actually riding.

It helped that however slow it went, the pain was fading, with every night he remained untouched. Still, he did not look forward to riding harder tomorrow, but he nodded. »Thank you, your Highness.«

He no longer needed her help to get off the horse and lead her away from the field they had been practicing in to be untacked. That was something he wasn’t expected to do himself, anymore than the royals were, and it made him feel uneasy. He was being served. Two of the slaves travelling with them were looking after the horses, and one of them took her out of his hands with a smile.

He managed a mumbled »thank you,« or so he thought.

He no longer needed the princess’ help with this, but she had followed him anyway, and now her grin had returned. »And you’re making great progress with that as well. Bet once you can get under our tutor, you’ll learn the language in no time.«

»Thank you, your Highness.« He opted for the more comfortable Teeradian this time, knowing she would understand it. Then something about the phrasing caught in his brain. Their tutor? Surely not their, the royals’, tutor, why would they need an Ochurian tutor?

But then, who here could teach Ochurian to a Teeradian—but perhaps someone who could have taught Teeradian to an Ochurian, too?

What would a royal tutor expect from him? How could he possibly hold up?

It was the end of the day—they had squeezed the lesson in after dinner—and Elgar was glad to be able to withdraw, sore and exhausted and now freshly worried.

Well, withdraw from most. The prince was waiting for him in their bedroom, but that was alright. Sometimes, he almost felt a kind of companionship with him. Almost like a resurrection of the bond tied between them during their captivity.

The prince was sitting up by the window and reading inbetween the fading light of dusk, and a candle. He closed the book when he heard Elgar enter, and gave him a smile, and a questioning thumbs-up.

Elgar nodded hesitantly. »It’s getting better.«

He went to sit with the prince. The bedroom was cool, of course, but he was dressed for the temperatures, like he very much hadn’t been under their old master.

For a moment, they sat in silence. Elgar looked out the window, into the stripe of orange drawn across the western sky, trying to calm his mind, but then he blurted out, »Do you think your tutor… is going to be satisfied with me?«

The prince looked at him quizzically, and Elgar explained, »Your sister, her Highness, she mentioned—I’d be taught the language by your tutor?« It sounded silly as he said it. He must have misunderstood something. But then—he had been afforded every luxury, far more than he knew how to handle.

And the prince nodded earnestly, reaching out to hold his hand.

»I just, I—I don’t know if I’ll be as good at it as… they’d expect.« He felt a hotness creep into his cheeks, and he was glad for the low light.

The prince shook his head, smiling, pointed at his chest then made a cutting motion. Elgar couldn’t read his lips too well as he mouthed words, but between it all, he figured it out. I was not good at it.

He couldn’t help a chuckle, but the prince’s smile faded as he thought about his words, and he gave a small shrug, flicking his free hand, then pointing between the two of them.

They were in the same boat. The prince would have to learn a new language, as well, with his hands.

He nodded, squeezing the prince’s hand. »We’ll—we’ll do it.«