#tells you all you need to know about my motivation to gif rip

[aimeegbbs]

MULTIFANDOM MEME: 2/7 GROUP DYNAMICS ➤ THE PARIS SQUAD (HEARTSTOPPER)

[little-diable]

I won't share you – James Beaufort (smut)

Y'all voted for this fic, so I hope you'll show it some love. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader is Lydia's best friend, but that hasn't stopped her and James from starting their fling–a fling that turns into something more the second his jealousy gets the best of James.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, shower smut, jealousy, best friend's brother

Pairing: James Beaufort x fem!reader (2.6k words)

“I hate this so much, and to think they’re only friends with me because of him.” Lydia kept rambling, words (y/n) barely paid attention to. For the past minutes, Lydia had recited her conversations with other friends, picking up on their crush on her twin brother, James. (Y/n) had tried to show compassion, had tried to tell Lydia that the girls weren’t just around because of James–all while hiding her own secret.

Hours ago she had been pressed against his chest, choking on his name while he buried himself deep inside of her. Her fingernails had left scratch marks on James’ back, barely remembering how they had ended up beneath tangled sheets the first time months ago.

It was a simple deal, they kept fooling around with one another while keeping it a secret from everybody. In the beginning she had felt guilty, knowing that her best friend would detest her for doing this behind her back. But while (y/n) had tried to reason with her guilt, her heart had gained the upper hand, reminding her of the crush she had never been able to shake, ever since they had met years ago. It was pathetic almost, how she crushed on a man who only turned towards her whenever he was in the mood for a quick lay.

“Anyway, you’ll come tonight, right? I need you there especially with this mess going on.” Lydia’s words ripped (y/n) out of her wandering thoughts. For a moment, she pondered over the question, wondering if she wanted to go to another party where she’d cross paths with James who’d find a new girl to flirt with in front of the others. But the pleading gaze Lydia shot her drew a tired sigh from (y/n), forcing her to nod her head.

“Of course I’ll be there, I promise.”

……

She shouldn’t have come. She should have stayed at home where her sheets still smelled of James’ expensive cologne. She should have stayed in her room where her memories allowed her to get lost in another daydream. Anywhere but here would be better for her mind and soul while (y/n) desperately tried to rip her eyes off his frame, away from the unbuttoned shirt that exposed his perfectly chiseled abs. 

Lydia had disappeared from her side a while ago, blending in with the others while greeting those she had whined about only hours ago. (Y/n) had tried to hold onto her best friend–though without any luck, forced to part ways as her gaze was glued to James who hadn’t looked at her once so far. 

Perhaps she should have left, disappearing without another word to make it back to the safety of her room. But her feet didn’t listen to her mind’s commands, guiding her towards the kitchen to find something strong she could use to silence her racing thoughts. 

Music was ringing in her ears, filling her body like a drug that whispered to her, begging her to stay for a little while longer. She sipped on her drink while her eyes wandered around the room filled with people she barely knew, catching the gaze of a guy who was already looking at her. He was handsome, tall enough to stand out, sporting dark hair and bright eyes that surely did their job with wooing girls who crossed paths with him.

(Y/n) could only watch how he pushed past people to find his way towards her, greeting her with a raspy “Hey” she barely picked up on. A soft smile began to widen on her lips as she intently studied him–he was cute, but he was no James Beaufort. 

“Wanna go outside? It’s too loud in here.” The guy didn’t wait for her reply. His warm hand found her wrist to gently guide her through the room and outside to the pool area. For a second, (y/n) thought that she had caught James’ gaze, finding the eyes she had last seen as he had fucked her in the early morning hours. But the moment had passed all too quickly, reminding her that James wouldn’t dare to even look at her at a place like this.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” She internally cringed at the nickname. With another sip of alcohol to guide the words off her lips, (y/n) tired to give herself a push. Perhaps this is what she needed, a nice enough distraction from the man she should finally let go of. Whatever fate was trying to tell her at that moment, she’d listen and follow the call. 

“It’s (y/n), what’s yours? I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” The guy stepped closer as she spoke, letting his hands rest on her waist almost as if they were dancing to the loud music. She wasn't uncomfortable, and yet she found herself thinking of ways on how to get out of this situation. If there was one thing she wasn’t interested in it was finding another guy who’d use her for his own distraction. 

“Mark, a friend of mine brought me here and I must say, I’m quite happy he did so.” Mark shot her a bright smile that left (y/n) chuckling. But the sound got stuck in her throat the second his hand wandered from her waist to her cheek. Fuck, she needed to get away from this guy, no matter how sweet he seemed to be, this wasn’t what she needed.

But (y/n) didn’t get far with overthinking her next move. While Mark slowly tilted his head down to cross the distance between them, (y/n) was yanked out of his touch and pulled back against a broad muscular chest. 

“What the fuck man?” Mark’s loud voice managed to break (y/n) out of her dazy state. She had to blink a few times before she allowed her eyes to wander from Mark’s angry features towards an all too familiar face. 

“Fuck off.” James spat the words at the guy before he turned (y/n) around in his grasp. It seemed as if he was making sure that she was alright, that she hadn’t been touched against her will. But while she should have focused on all these details, (y/n) could only focus on the fact that this was the first time James was interacting with her in a setting like this.

“What’s your problem? We were just having a nice time, right, (y/n)?” Mark spoke up once again. She felt his hand on her arm, and the second he began to tug on her, she knew that this situation would end in total chaos. And then everything happened all too quickly. One second she was pulled from James’ grasp, the next she found herself losing her balance and falling into the pool. 

Her clothes clung to her body as she resurfaced, having to brush her wet hair out of her features before she got a clear sight once again. She didn’t hear the loud words the two guys shared, she could only see how they stood all too close–about to escalate into an ugly fight if nobody intervened. From the corner of her eye, she watched Lydia hastily approach with their friends, instantly forcing a sinking feeling to settle in her stomach. 

Slowly, (y/n) swam towards the edge, allowing the sounds to grow more prominent once again. James didn’t seem to spare his sister a single thought as he turned from Mark to focus on (y/n). Their eyes held contact as he reached his hands out for her to take, pulling her out of the pool and back into his chest. 

(Y/n) didn’t dare meet her friends' gazes as James guided her past the growing group with his arm wrapped around her waist. No words were shared between them as he guided her towards her car. She kept her eyes glued to his features, the tickling jaw muscles that indicated his anger, the bright pupils that were stormy–a sight that robbed all air from her burning lungs. 

James’ hand disappeared in the pocket of her wet jeans to pull her car keys free, wordlessly opening the door for her before he rounded the car and began driving back to her place. She wanted to speak up, wanted to ask him why he had interfered like that, but the anger oozing off him begged (y/n) to stay silent, at least for now. 

Darkness lingered in the car as James broke the speed limit, seemingly desperate to make it to her place to speak about whatever had happened. Her heart was racing in her chest, unable to slow down as she relived the past moments, the clear look of jealousy that had swam in his eyes, and the anger that made heat pool between her thighs. She could only hope that the conversation they’d have any moment now could clear some of the confusion she felt.

But even as they arrived at her home did James stay quiet. All he did was guide her inside, wearily almost as if he hadn’t been there numerous times before. She gave him a few moments to finally break the silence, wanting him to be the first to say whatever he was plagued by, but James kept quiet. 

“I need to get out of these clothes, I’ll take a quick shower.” He nodded at her words, deep in thought. Her heart was aching for him, wanting to reach out and touch him, but her mind lured her away, whispering to her that he had no right to act like that when he had been the one to keep his distance in public. 

Her eyes found her reflection in her bathroom mirror as she stepped out of her wet clothes. The confusion she felt was clear on her face, stretching itself through every part of her. A part of (y/n) had always hoped that he’d finally cross that line and interact with her around others. Something she could cling to with hope simmering if inside of her–hoping that perhaps something could blossom between them, turning them into something more sincere. But now that the lines had begun to blur, (y/n) found herself fearing what was laying ahead of her.

The hot water cascaded down her back as she found shelter in her shower. She didn’t hear James stepping into the room, didn’t hear his clothes dropping to the ground. A soft gasp left (y/n) the second he pressed himself against her back, letting his arms wrap around her from behind. James’ lips kissed the back of her neck, forcing goosebumps to rise on her body even though the water running down their limbs was all too warm by now. 

“I’m sorry.” She could tell that it pained him to apologise, knowing that it was one of the many things his father had never taught him. Her hand found his, interlacing their fingers while she silently begged him to keep on speaking, to explain to her why he had escalated like that. “Seeing you with him switched something inside of me, I got so angry at him but mainly at myself. I have been so fucking stupid.”

“Why?” It was nothing more than a whisper, a sound so small, (y/n) feared the water would swallow it wholly. James free hand began to wander down south, he stroked her soft skin, caressing every inch before finding her heat. Her heart picked up its beat, very well understanding what he was planning on doing. 

“Because you’re mine and it took me until today to understand it. I won’t share you with anybody else.” His slender fingers circled her pulsing bundle, leaving her gasping while tightening her grip on his hand. James’ warm breath teased the spot where her shoulder met her neck, it felt as if he tried to pull himself even closer, needing to feel every part he intended on owning. 

“Do you truly mean it? Because I also don’t want to share you with anybody else.” Her voice trembled, shaking as if she had been chased by him, about to trip over her own two feet. His fingers brushed through her slit, collecting drops of arousal before slowly pushing into her. (Y/n)’s moans filled the bathroom, echoing off the walls that knew their every secret, listening to their whispered conversations whenever they found shelter inside of here. 

“I mean it, you’re mine, (y/n).” Without another warning, he pulled his fingers away to turn her around in his grasp. Their lips met for a breathless kiss, drawing gritty sounds from them while allowing their bodies to guide them. Without breaking apart, James lifted her off her feet to pull her legs around his waist with her back pressed against the shower tiles. 

“Let me fuck you like you deserved to be fucked, baby.” The world could end, could stop in its rotation and be swallowed by darkness. The stars could fall from the sky and let people escalate into an unstoppable chaos. No matter what was about to happen, he wouldn’t let go of her, would only focus on (y/n) and the love growing between them. 

Her moan was all James needed to guide his cock towards her entrance, to disappear deep inside of her like he had done numerous times before. But even though he had fucked her for months now, this moment felt different, more sincere, more loving than anything both had experienced before. 

“I love you so much, James.” She sobbed the words against his lips, chasing them for another clashing kiss that could lure her into her end. James Beaufort was her end and her beginning, a love story she had always longed for. He was everything she needed, fulfilling the unspoken longings she had been too scared to admit. 

“I love you too, fuck, you’re perfect.” His body met hers with every ferocious thrust, set on pushing them closer together–the first time as a proper couple swearing to stick to one another’s side. The moment had something almost cheesy to it, something so loving they struggled to put it into words. 

Her walls fluttered around him, pulling James even closer with her eyes getting lost in his blue ones. It felt as if he kept every secret this world knew hidden in his pupils, harbouring them for whatever reason. She never wanted to stop looking at him, the one who held her heart in his hands as if it was his most prized possession.

With every thrust, he brushed against her swollen spot, making her see black dots in her vision. She was close, would let go all too soon, and yet she didn’t mind it, didn’t mind losing herself to James once again. Their eyes stayed connected as she came around his cock, choking on his name like a prayer leaving her lips. 

James gave it more thrusts to chase his high, forehead pressed against hers, arms flexing to tighten their grip on (y/n). She watched him fall apart with a heavy groan and his cum leaving its stain on her walls. A perfect mess neither of them ever wanted to part from. 

“You’re mine, never forget that, baby.”  

[sbdskate]

Laws Of Attraction (Part 10) - DR x lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: McLaren is in breach of contract, dr3 hires a lawyer to deal with the aftermath. Tropes ensue. Slow burn. Enemies(kind of) -> Friends/colleagues -> Lovers

Pairing: lawyer!fem!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings (18+): sickening amount of fluff, language, angst, *SMUT*: oral (m + f receiving), fingering, hand job, p in v, overstimulation if you blink

Word Count: 6,892

A/N: If you’re here, congratulations! You made it to the end. A big thank you to everyone that has commented, shared, liked, etc. I can’t believe it’s been over a year since my first post. I had a vision when I started writing this in the middle of the 2022 season, not quite sure where it would lead, but I’m happy with where it landed and I hope you are too. I hope you like wine with your cheese, because this is ~cheesy~. Also, this is my first time writing smut so (1) if you are a minor please do not proceed; (2) if you do like/read smut, I would appreciate any kind of feedback. A big thank you to @cutelittlefakejourneys and @burningcupcakefire for beta-ing. Thank you @paddockbunny, @monzabee, and @silverstonesainz for the insights and words of encouragement. As always, thank you for reading.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue 1

Daniel paced the hallway. He wasn’t accustomed to not getting what he wanted. Sure, in the last few months he had had his fair share of disappointments, but this was different. He was tempted to knock on your door until you answered, but thought the better of it.

He played through the moment in his head again, no different than analyzing a post-race debrief. What went wrong and how could he improve? He was professional during the signing. He knew you loved Geri, you only casually brought up Ginger Spice in conversation no less than a dozen times over the last few months. He knew you’d love to actually meet her – who knows, if everything went well it certainly wouldn’t be the last time for you. He didn’t force himself on you – at this point he knew you were like a cat and he needed to wait for you to come to him or else he’d scare you off. It seemed like the only thing keeping you from ripping each other’s clothes off was your job. Or so he thought.

Now he was confused. It was clear you hadn’t meant to say what you said – but you said it. I could kiss you. Can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube. Four words that looped in his brain. He had spent so much time dissecting the meaning of the word “could,” he felt like he could be a lawyer too. But he had taken his time closing the space between you in the hallway. When he leaned in, you leaned in too. You had ample time to tell him off if he had misconstrued the whole thing, and he would never think less of you if you did, but you didn’t.

No, what just happened was not a rejection. You were just skittish. Like a cat hiding under a bed, you just needed to be coaxed out – slowly. You were food motivated, he’d learned that about you during your first outing in Belgium when you put down more bon bons than he thought was humanly possible. Yes, all you needed was to be approached with patience and understanding - and maybe the promise of a full belly.

-

You leaned against the door and squeezed your eyes shut, embarrassment already crashing over you like a tidal wave. You knew you were being ridiculous and immature. What was it that you were still afraid of?

You stripped off your suit immediately, it felt stuffy and heavy as you overheated, the reminder of your attorney-client relationship falling to the floor. You threw on the first thing you grabbed out of your bag - why did it have to be that pesky yellow dress again?

You paced your room for what felt like hours. Your professional activities with Daniel had officially come to its natural conclusion and yet you were still hesitant to move forward. It didn’t help that you were in a country that banned the cohabitation of unmarried couples, so really, what were you even going to do?

Despite the confessions exchanged back in Mexico and the kiss in Brazil, it was never guaranteed that anything would actually happen once Daniel’s legal affairs were settled. Frankly, you still weren’t fully convinced the conversations ever actually happened. You refused to believe the lingering stares and little touches that lasted a little too long were anything more than pure coincidence.

In spite of all of it, you remained unconvinced about how Daniel actually felt about you. Over the years of failed relationships and first dates that ranged from awkward to bad, you had grown wary and skeptical of romantic pursuits. For all you knew, all his lip-service was simply an elaborate ruse to get in your pants. You thought on this worst case scenario, which really wasn’t so bad. God forbid you have one night stand with a Formula 1 driver and live to tell the tale. It would be a lie to say you wouldn’t be hurt at first if you were correct, but you would eventually be fine. You had been happily single and independent for years, it would simply be a return to your de facto state.

And even if you could take him at his word, you couldn’t help but wonder what that relationship would look like when you had to resume work for other clients and the luxury of constant travel and proximity ceased. How would you continue to keep in touch? How often would you actually be able to see each other in person? Your first relationship was with The Firm, and you knew you weren’t ready to give up your livelihood for him. Then there was the other issue of paparazzi and tabloids - the forced spotlight that would fall on you, resulting in the lack of privacy and anonymity. You had no desire for fame, yet he seemed to be designed for it. You could go toe-to-toe with opposing counsel any day, but you weren’t sure you had his mental fortitude to withstand the cruel and unsolicited opinions of strangers on the internet.

You weighed the pros and cons over and over again in your head. For someone with such a demanding job, it made no sense that it all felt so overwhelming and complicated. But it was telling that the Australian was the first person you wanted to confide in. He was the only one who could ever quiet the constant hurricane in your mind that caused you to spiral if left unchecked. In this moment, you needed him to ground you.

You had been raised to leave hotel room minibars alone unless you wanted to bankrupt you and your entire family for two generations. Going against everything you believed, you took a nip from the stock. Hoping the small amount of liquid courage would do the trick, you checked your reflection in the mirror one last time before venturing to the room next door. You would simply have to assume the risk of the unknown aftermath.

With shaking hands, you opened the door only to be met with Daniel’s presence before you. He jumped slightly at the sudden movement. You did a poor job hiding your astonishment that left you frozen in place.

“Oh… hi?” Your eyes remained wide. He looked around and scratched the back of his head, appearing to be as surprised and confused as you were.

“Hi – I uh,” he took a moment to give you a once over. “I’m sorry are you about to go somewhere? You look nice.” You felt your face turn red immediately, the bravery you built up moments ago dissipating in an instance. He shifted his weight, quickly correcting himself. “Not that you don’t always look nice! I just – you look nicer than usual. I mean-” He seemed uncharacteristically nervous and was digging himself a hole. You looked around the hall to ensure it was empty and took a deep breath to save him from digging any deeper.

“Yes actually. I was going to see you.” He seemed surprised and relieved at the answer.

“No way, I was about to see you!” He shook his head when he saw you bite back a smile. “Obviously, I’ve been standing outside your door,” he laughed nervously, his confidence shrinking by the second. “Not for very long though! You didn’t need to know that. But I wanted to come to say I’m sorry about before, I was too forward back there. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just figured, you know, since we went pencils down and everything, maybe we could-”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Did I stutter?” You walked backwards as you took his hand, leading him through the doorway. He didn’t fight your lead.

“-you don’t know what I was going to ask.” You leaned back, allowing the door to click behind you under your weight.

“It doesn’t matter. The answer is yes.” You gave him a reassuring smile and gently squeezed his hand bringing him closer. “With you it will always be yes.” It seemed both of you were at a loss for words, but they were unnecessary as he took a step towards you closing the small gap that remained. His eyes were enchantingly curious as they gazed into yours. You only looked away for a millisecond, distracted by the tongue that broke free from his mouth to moisten his plump lips. You took a deep inhale in anticipation, your heartbeat bordering on palpitations as his lips closed in.

The moment they met yours, immediately you knew you never wanted boundaries with this man ever again. One hand cupped the side of your face while the other grabbed your waist to pull you closer. You wrapped your arms around his neck in an effort to eliminate any remaining iota of space between the two of you. Your lips danced and moved together in unison, neither of you wanting to come up for air. His firm calloused hands roamed your body, unsure of where to rest. There were so many parts of you he had never touched before and he wanted desperately to become acquainted with them as quickly as possible. He squeezed your shoulders, ran them down the lengths of your arms, moved to the small of your back up towards your neck, in your hair.

The feverishness of it all began to slow, as he tried to memorize every peak and valley. He reverently moved his hands from your waist, dragging them up the length of your spine, one hand finding its way to your hair as though he wanted to remember every hair follicle, the other keeping your body firmly pressed against his. The leisurely pace only teased you, and each spot he touched left your body buzzing. He slowly brought his other hand to find yours again, repositioning so your fingers interlocked. The sweet gesture felt suddenly sinful when he pinned them to the wall, dragging them up the door until they were next to your head. The motion made your head spin, warmth spreading between your thighs, and you inadvertently let out a soft moan.

Ravenous for more, he firmly pressed your bodies together against the door, almost knocking the wind out of you. He pulled away only for a moment, his eyes pleading.

Can I?

You nodded your head frantically, capturing his mouth once more while guiding his hands to the parts you desperately needed touched. One gently cupped your breast while the other roughly grabbed your ass, kneading the muscles underneath. You both groaned in unison at the new sensation.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to touch you,” he mouthed breathlessly before finding your neck, hoping the feeling was mutual. You didn’t say anything back, but he could tell from the pant of your breath and the pulse under his lips that it was. You threw your head back as he sucked, licked, and nipped at the sweet spot as he gently grazed his thumb over your bra, immediately feeling your nipple form into a stiff peak underneath. Being mindful of your noise level, you bit back a moan that ended up coming out as a pathetic whimper. You shamelessly pushed your hips against his and squeezed his hand on your breast, encouraging him to explore and desperate for more contact.

You instinctively widened your stance for him to perch himself between your legs. His hand played with the waistband of your underwear through your dress, trailing down to your inner upper thigh.

“Stop teasing,” you hissed. He only smiled into the kiss in response, his tongue pushing into your mouth to shut you up.

Your hands followed their own curious whims. Those pecs that you had gotten an eyeful of several times felt warm and firm under your touch. Your palm dragged down the ripples of his abs, gently landing over the front of his pants. You gasped feeling him harden under your touch for the first time, eliciting a low growl from him in return. His hips pushed forward in frustration, eager for more. You allowed him some relief, undoing his belt and pants, cautiously reaching inside. Your eyes widened.

“Holy shit,” you muttered as you grabbed around his length, your hand suddenly feeling quite small. He looked you dead in the eye, that familiar cocky smirk and twinkle returning to his face.

“Come on,” he flashed you a wicked grin. “You knew it had to be big.” You laughed at his boldness, which only inspired him to double down. “I know how to use it too.”

“That’s some awfully big talk.” You already had goosebumps from your head to your toes, but you weren’t going to let him know that just yet. You would make sure he worked for it. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“It’s not the only thing I know how to use.”

He captured your mouth in a gentle, chaste kiss as he used one hand to pull up the hem of your dress. His other hand snuck under the skirt, slowly dragging it across your skin. Rough and calloused from racing, they felt tantalizingly delicate.

“I was going to prove it, but it looks like I already convinced you.” He drew little spirals around your clit over your panties, barely applying any pressure. You bit your lip and looked up to the ceiling, praying for relief from the building tension. To your chagrin, his hand began to pull away.

“No. Please,” was all you could muster, your brain searching for more eloquent words that escaped you.

“Please what?” You reached for his crotch, hoping the action would suffice as an answer, but he grabbed your wrist to pin it to the door. “You have to use your words.” You felt the words on his breath that seeped through your skin.

“Please touch me.” Frustrated, you used your free hand to try to get him to fully take your dress off which was only getting in the way. He obliged, releasing your other hand to get a hold of the fabric. You put your arms up as he gathered the material over your head. Throwing the garment aside, he pulled away slightly to observe you for a moment. His eyes widening as they moved down your frame, trying and failing to hide his growing smirk.

“Do you always wear pretty underwear when you close a deal? Or are these for me?” He played with the pink lacy textile between his fingers, admiring how they accentuated the contour of your waist and hips.

“Both,” you gasped as he dragged a finger down your front. It passed over your clit, down to the fabric covering your entrance, smiling feeling how embarrassingly soaked you already were through the thin material.

With a chaste kiss on the cheek, he proceeded to leave a trail of kisses down your neck, chest, stomach, until he reached the hem of fabric. He continued over the garment, bypassing the spot he knew you needed him to your inner thigh. The gentle touches and the scruff of his beard almost tickled, panting as he moved down your body.

He looped his thumbs around the sides of your thong, pausing to look up hopefully for permission. You nodded with lidded, lustful eyes. He couldn’t hide his dimples and he continued to tease, dragging your panties slowly down your legs, taking care to pick up each foot to get you out of them. Your heart swelled as you observed him treating you so delicately, like a fragile porcelain doll. His trail of kisses started again from the bottom, beginning at your ankle, to the inside of your knee and again to your upper thigh until he reached an apex.

“Hold on.” You weren’t sure what he meant at first. Then without warning, he grabbed your hip and threw your opposite leg over his shoulder, finally diving into your center. Your hands instinctively found their way to his head to stabilize yourself, accidentally letting out a yelp in the process which soon after turned into a low moan as his tongue swirled slow circles around your clit. “You taste so fucking good,” he mumbled into your skin.

The vision of him on his knees fully clothed, contrasted with your nakedness enhanced his touch and sent you spiraling. Your hands raked through his gorgeous curls as he lapped you up. The pressure he applied gradually increased, culminating to him inserting a finger in you, then two. You slapped a hand over your mouth as the pressure pooled and he found his rhythm with his tongue and fingers. He knew you were close when your legs started to shake and squeezed around him. The waves came crashing over you as you bucked your hips erratically. He removed his fingers so that he could stabilize you, but his mouth never stopped.

He finally put your other leg back on the ground when your hips slowed and stood up. Your legs almost buckled from underneath you but he caught you before you could fall, lifting you to walk to the bed.

You watched him carry you wordlessly, your brain still short circuiting from your orgasm only knowing enough to wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. Not because you thought he’d drop you, but because you wanted to be as close to him as possible. It still wasn’t close enough.

He sat himself down on the bed with you landing in his lap, legs still wrapped tightly. There had never been a time where the two of you have been in the same room and exchanged so few words. You continued to stare at each other, simply amazed to be in the same space and sharing skin after three long anguished months of resisting forbidden fruit.

Your gaze fell to his swollen lips that you desperately wanted to taste again, still shiny with your essence. His hand pressed up your back until he grabbed a fistful of hair, bringing you in fervently for another kiss. It was the kind of kiss that enveloped you, that turned your legs to water and caused currents in you to flow creating bountiful energy that begged for release. Your hands roamed from his shoulders, down his chest and abs to the hem of his shirt. The two of you pried it off together and he threw it somewhere on the floor. Your mouths met again gluing your torsos together, your currents crashing in a tidal wave of electricity and emotion.

You unwrapped your legs to straddle him, lightly pushing him backwards. He pulled you with him as you both fell into the bed, smiling into each other and little giggles filling the air. You rolled your hips over him, annoyed with the layers that still separated you from the waist down. You reached down, sloppily pushing at his pants to demonstrate your displeasure. He understood your message, weaving his arms past you to finish the job and shimmying his legs until they were off. You reached down the waistband of his boxer briefs, teasing your fingertips just underneath but not going further. It thrilled you to feel his muscles tense underneath your touch. He nipped your bottom lip when your hand moved further south, and you could feel his jaw clench.

He pulled away suddenly, and you couldn’t place the look on his face which made you nervous.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! It’s just…” his hand cupped the side of your face, caressing your cheek. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

Your heart swelled at how delicate he was with you, at how much he cared. But you didn’t want to be treated delicately. And now you almost felt bad about how much you’d teased him up to this point. Almost.

“Do you know,” you said sitting up, your hand ghosting over the outline of him through his boxer briefs, “I had a sex dream about you. Right before the Japanese Grand Prix.”

“No,” he ground out.

“You had my legs spread on a desk in some McLaren office.” You felt his whole body clench again as you slid the last piece of clothing down his legs. As though the thought hadn’t crossed his mind every time you admonished him for not paying attention or not taking things seriously in those early days. The frequency of course increased, to every time you bent over, smiled, or played with your hair, to simply existing. For once, he was the one blushing and you found it entirely endearing. “I’ve literally dreamt of fucking you for three months. I want you and I need you. Now.”

His pupils dilated at your words, and his hands moved possessively from your face down to your ass where his fingers sank into your skin hoping to mark and keep you. He tried to find the words to communicate how badly he wanted and needed you too, but blood was no longer flowing to his brain and no words seemed perfect enough for you. His shaft twitched against his toned stomach, eager for your touch. You relieved him, wrapping your full hand around his impressive length pumping up and down a few times, your gentle grip slowly firming with each stroke.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. His hand found your waist and you felt his grip tighten as you continued. You slithered down his body until your mouth aligned with him, spitting over his tip. He felt voyeuristic watching the saliva drip from your tongue. You looked up to see him gripping the sheets for dear life.

“Is that alright?” He nodded fervently.

��Only if you want to,” he croaked out. Bless this man, who just wanted to make sure you were comfortable even though it looked like his eyes were going to roll back into his head.

“I do. Very much,” you insisted. You dragged your tongue slowly from the base of his shaft to his tip. “You made me feel good.” Lick. “Now I want to make you feel good.” His shallow breath hitched when you finally took him in your mouth. Your eyes watered as he hit the back of your throat, you looked up to make sure he was still breathing. You found him slack jawed, but eyes full of lust. He brought a hand to your head. You prepared your gag reflex expecting him to force your rhythm, but instead simply pushed your hair out of your face.

“Fuck, you look so good.” You felt the slickness spread between your thighs at his praise, adding a hand to his base where your mouth couldn’t quite reach. You increased your speed, moaning into him. He happily absorbed the vibrations, reflexively bucking his hips into you. You tasted salty precum at his tip and could tell he was close.

“W-wait,” you slowed your pace but didn’t remove him as you looked up again. “I don’t want to finish yet. Not like this.” You slowly pried yourself off him, finishing with a satisfying *pop* as you released him. You saw his chest rise and fall at an alarming rate. He helped pull you up, interlocking your fingers in the process.

“What do you want?” you asked, knowing you would do whatever came out of his mouth without hesitation.

“Grab my jeans?” You couldn't hide your skepticism, but nonetheless begrudgingly left the nicest seat you’ve ever known to find his pants somewhere on the floor. You resumed your spot on his lap as he frantically searched his pockets, finally locating his wallet and fished out a condom. Everything else found its way back to the ground. Eyes wide, he maintained a death grip on the condom. “You’re sure?”

You smiled. You thumbed his jawline as you brought your foreheads together. “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.” It took him about four seconds to process what you said, but when he did closed the gap between your lips in a messy and desperate kiss that sucked the air out of you. It dizzied him too and only pulled away when he remembered he had to open the condom. You leaned back to give him some space as he struggled with the wrapper. His brow furrowed in frustration as he tried to steady his shaky hands.

“I swear I’m usually a lot smoother than this,” he muttered. You bit back a laugh.

“I believe you.”  

“You just make me nervous,” he admitted, uncharacteristically bashful. “In case you couldn’t tell.”

“Hardly noticed,” you said sarcastically, but reassured him with a giggle. “It’s very endearing, if it makes you feel any better.” You calmly grabbed it from him.

“It does,” he confessed as he let you take it from his hands. Without breaking eye contact, you ripped the wrapper easily with your teeth. You felt him twitch under you as you wriggled yourself against him in content, allowing him to feel your arousal. He swallowed thickly. “Where did you learn that?”

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out,” you smirked. You moved off him for a moment, and he took the chance to stroke himself a few times, watching you absentmindedly. How your hair, now perfectly tousled, fell around your shoulders. How gravity worked miracles on the swell of your breasts. How your waist sloped into your hips and thighs. You patiently presented the condom back to him and he used all his concentration to take it from you to roll it down his length. He looked at you hopefully when he was done and you rewarded him with another kiss, your hair cascading around the two of you creating a protective curtain around your new little intimate universe.

You both watched as you eased yourself onto his cock, voyeurs of your own lust. Your moans harmonized as he bottomed out. You felt deliciously stretched and full. Complete. You began slow to adjust to his size, teasing him in the process with your agonizing pace, rising up to the point of almost dismount before sinking back down again engulfing his full length.

“Does this feel good?” you cooed, already knowing the answer as you swirled your hips with him bottomed out inside you, tormentingly slow.

“Yes. Fuck yes,” he groaned as he palmed your ass. “You’re so fucking tight.” You dragged a hand from his chest, down the ripples of his abs, towards where the two of you intercepted. With his jaw clenched, he sank his fingers in your hips, trying unsuccessfully to steady them as you continued to rock. “You look so good with me inside you.”

He lifted his hips to meet yours as proof of his enjoyment, the new angle jolting you forward slightly. A moan escaped as you found a rhythm as you rolled your hips back and forth, itching for the friction of his skin against your already swollen clit. Your pace quickened as his length hit that sacred spot deep in your core over and over. The bounce of your tits mesmerized him. Unable to resist, his mouth found a nipple, flicking his tongue back and forth over the sensitive peak that had you seeing stars.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you whimpered. You felt the pressure pool and coil in your lower abdomen. Your eyes closed when he grabbed the back of your head, gently pulling your hair.

“Look at me. I want you to look at me when you come.” All you could do was nod in response, worried that any sound you might let out at that point would alert the whole building. It was impossible to look away from his gaze even if you wanted to. You bit your lip as the pressure continued to build, hypnotized by the repetition and sensory overload. You rocked back onto him a final time before reaching your release, collapsing on forward onto his chest and his name falling off your tongue like a prayer as your hips slowed and stuttered.

Yes

Daniel

He’d never heard a more beautiful sound before. His mouth caught yours again, absorbing the moans that continued as you rode out your orgasm. He wrapped an arm around your lower back to pull you flush to his chest and began to upthrust, building to an excruciating pace. You held onto his shoulders for dear life.

“W-what are you doing?” You knew you sounded pathetic, barely able to form the sentence. He smirked.

“Getting you to Number Three.”

“I can’t,” you whined. He pulled you close and rolled the two of you over, taking care to remain buried inside of you. You gasped at the sudden movement, eyes wide when you landed on your back.

“Three’s my lucky number.” He gave a few slow pumps before pushing himself up to spread your legs. He admired the change in your face at each new angle, each expression more perfect than the next. He brought his thumb down to your clit and watched you whither under his touch. With the new view he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. “Don’t worry, I’ll do the work this time.”

You couldn’t argue with his logic. The only response you could give were incantations of profanities as he fucked you into the mattress and his gentle finger rubbing the sensitive nub just above where your bodies joined. He glistened as beads of sweat formed over his body, enhancing the contours of his muscles with each thrust. It was all too much. You felt your walls begin to clench again, your body eagerly anticipating its reward.

Daniel saw your mouth mold into an “o”, the slight twitch of your muscles, and felt the pressure that was building inside you. He prayed you were close knowing that his stamina would soon run out.

“That’s it. Come for me.” Daniel counted his blessings that he should be so lucky to have a front row seat, not once, not twice, but three times to your orgasms. You were so beautiful. Too beautiful. He couldn’t stop himself from chasing his own high as he watched you twist and contort under him. His thrusts became more frantic and erratic as your moans filled the room until he spilled into you, lurching forward but catching himself before fully collapsing on top of you.

Finally the motions stopped, except for the quickened rise and fall of your chests as you both tried to catch your breath. You blinked at each other a few times, still unable to move or think. Daniel broke the silence.

“Holy shit.” You couldn’t help the stupid grin that formed. You pressed a hand to his cheek just to make sure he was still real.

“That good, huh?” He begrudgingly began to move and pulled out of you, rolling over to your side. He propped himself on his elbow and looked down on you, absentmindedly drawing patterns on your soft belly.  

“I was just going to ask if you wanted to grab dinner. But that was way better.” You both laughed as you nuzzled into each other, still peppering the other with butterfly kisses and holding onto the belief that the world was the size of a queen-size bed.

Eventually he got up to go to the bathroom. As soon as he left your side, the intrusive thoughts returned and you began mentally preparing yourself for the inevitable goodbye. You watched silently as he searched the floor for his underwear, blissfully unaware of your inner turmoil. This was fun you repeated in your head. It will be a good story to tell you tried convincing yourself.  

He came back to bed and snuggled up against you.

“Now what?” he asked innocently. You squinted back at him, laughing slightly.  

“That’s an awfully loaded question, don’t you think?” He seemed confounded for a moment.

“I mean, I was just thinking we could get food now? What were you thinking?” You forgot that men could be such simple creatures. Maybe it was the audacity that allowed them to go about life blissfully unaware or unconcerned about hypothetical what if’s and unintended consequences of their actions. But for now, maybe you needed to think like a man too. You didn’t need to solve all the world’s problems in one night. Maybe all you needed was to just enjoy whatever this was for whatever time was left before you got on a flight tomorrow to return to reality.

“Yeah, I guess I worked up an appetite.” He broke into a wide grin. He grabbed your face to bless you with a kiss on the forehead before fetching the menu.

“Great. I’ll order us room service.”

-

Your eyes fluttered open the next morning. Scenes from the night before played on a loop in your head. Sweaty bodies entangled in a sea of limbs. In your experience, men who were that charismatic and that good looking rarely knew what to do with the bodies they had been blessed with. And yet…

You were afraid to open your eyes, not ready to let go of the memory that brought a smile to your face so you kept them closed a bit longer. Instead, you extended a hesitant hand to the other side of the bed expecting to feel the warm body of your evening companion, but you felt nothing. You reluctantly opened your eyes.

“Dan?” Your voice was soft and hoarse from sleep. Nothing. Maybe he hadn’t heard you.

“Daniel?” You tried again, a bit louder this time. Still no response.

You slowly got out of bed half asleep, the line between your dreams and the real world still not quite defined. You zombie-walked to the window, delicately drawing back the blackout curtains of the hotel room. You winced as your eyes adjusted to the natural light. Your clothes were still on the floor where they had been unceremoniously discarded, but the other outfit that had kept them company had disappeared. Your heart fell.

“Daniel?” you tried one last time, voice cracking slightly. Maybe he was in the bathroom. Maybe he had eaten something bad yesterday. You knocked on the door before cautiously opening it. You stood in the doorway a beat too long, unable to move from the empty space. He had been so convincing, so charming, and you fell for it. You had been so guarded and careful, you thought you had sniffed out any unsavory motives and you still were left feeling used and abandoned.

You blinked back tears before they could fall, hiding your defeat from no one in particular in the privacy of your hotel room. You wiped your eyes, chugged a glass of water, for some masochist reason put on your Enchante sweatshirt and got back into bed. It was still early, maybe you could sleep another few hours before you had to get ready to go to the airport. Maybe that sleep would help you forget and ease the overwhelming humiliation and melancholy that fell over you.

As you began to drift off, a noise at the door startled you awake. You realized it was the sound of the door key and grabbed sheets to cover yourself quickly, unsure what else to do.

“I’m not ready for housecleaning!” you yelled uncertainly, praying it was in fact hotel staff and not a burglar.

“Hey hey hey, it’s just me. Good morning to you too.” You slowly peaked your head from under the covers, shocked at the sound of the reassuring, achingly familiar Australian accent. The driver stood in the foyer, his hands overflowing with bags and precariously balancing two coffee cups. You sat up a bit more as you processed the sight in front of you.

“What-?” you trailed off. He seemed nervous, but a smile never left his face.

“I, uh, wanted to surprise you with breakfast. There’s a little place down the street. But you looked so peaceful sleeping and I didn’t want to wake you, so I grabbed your room key. But I realized when I got there I didn’t know what you liked, and my phone died, so I kind of got one of everything…I hope that’s ok. I didn’t mean to scare you –“

As he rambled, you had silently gotten out of bed to grab the cups from his hands, placing them on the table along with the insane amount of bags, one by one. With all obstacles removed, you enveloped your arms around his neck and stamped his lips with a kiss. He was surprised by the sudden gesture but returned it eagerly, his hands still familiarizing themselves with you. He blinked a few times when you pulled away.

“I promise I will get breakfast for you every day if you like it that much.” You laughed with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes, and you looked away.

“I thought you left,” your small voice shrank in embarrassment that you had jumped to conclusions so quickly. You couldn’t bring yourself to explain further.

But you didn’t have to. He wrapped you in a bear hug crushing you into his chest, his lips nuzzled into the crown of your head, his body heat invigorating you.

“I’m sorry, I should have texted or let you know where I was.”

“No, it’s silly. I was being overdramatic.”

“It’s not silly. And I’m not going anywhere.”

“But what does that mean?” you asked in exasperation. He pulled away and looked at you in disbelief that you would even ask such a question.

“What do you want it to mean?” You bit your lip in frustration.

“Daniel, don’t be obtuse. In a couple of hours we’re getting on different planes to go to opposite sides of the world.”

“And?”

“We’re not going to see each other.”

“Well then it’s a good thing I know people with private jets.”

“I still have to work.”

“I’ll come to you.”

“My apartment is small.”

“I can pack light.”

“What if you meet someone else when we’re not together?” He let out an irritated sigh.

“I don’t want to meet anyone else.”

You were stumped. He could read the confused look on your face and gently grabbed the sides of your shoulders. “You know, for someone so smart you can be really dumb sometimes.” You crossed your arms.

“Hey!”

“I know it’s hard for you to believe for some reason, but I want to give this a real shot. I want to take you on a proper date. See what things look like when I’m not paying you to spend time with me.”

You looked down, feeling a little guilty about how much you doubted him. You couldn’t help that you were risk averse by nature.

“Did you just… Socratic method me to get me to understand that you like me?”

“Did it work?”

“Let’s just say you have a bright future as a law school professor if this whole driving thing doesn’t work out.” You paused for a moment, still trying to wrap your head around everything. “So… you really want to give this a go?” He rolled his eyes.

“Is it really that hard to believe?”

“I mean – yeah, a little. The world that you operate in is just so much different than mine. Your world consists of beautiful people.”

“You’re beautiful,” he retorted. You blushed but didn’t let the comment throw you off your stride.

“You know what I mean. Your world is glamorous and luxurious. My world is average. It’s a lot of take-out, it’s late nights on the phone with Joe, it’s boring suits, it’s work - without the recognition and without the spotlight. You could have any actress or model or singer in the world and you pick me. Can you blame me for being skeptical?” His face fell slightly as he realized that you didn’t think your shine was bright enough for him. But it was quickly replaced with something mischievous.

“What are you talking about? You’re a singer,” he said matter-of-factly. You rolled your eyes.

“You’ve unfortunately seen me do karaoke, we both know that’s a lie.”

“Your morning shower performances beg to differ.” He laughed at the terror that flashed before your eyes as you threw your hands over your mouth, but quickly reassured you. “I’ve listened to you every morning since we got here. It’s the best part of my day, until I see you.” He pried your hands from your face, holding them in his. “And the last thing you are, is average. Can we please just try?”

You bit your lip, unable to contain the blush spurred by his words of affirmation. The squeeze of his hands on yours caused the dormant butterflies in your stomach to flutter their delicate wings and rise to your chest. A comforting warmth enveloped you, it rose to your cheeks and the answer was there plain as day on your face for him and the world to see. No, it couldn’t hurt to try.

“Only if… you’ll do a duet with me.” After holding his breath for what seemed like eternity, his joy and happiness hanging in the balance waiting for your response, he broke into a toothy grin that used every dimple and laugh line on his face. Without skipping a beat, he threw you over his shoulder and made his way to the bathroom leaving a trail of your giggles in his wake.

“I’m ready for my audition.”

[justanoasisimagines]

Being Married to (Headcanon)

Requests are open! Credit to @cafekitsune for the divider and banner!

❀Tormund is such an attentive husband. The moment you two say your vows, Tormund sees you as someone he's going to love and protect until his final breath.

❀Tormund would kill for you. If someone glances at you the wrong way he'll kill them. I someone threatens you, he'll murder them slowly. Tormund is not afraid to fight everyone. He's more ruthless when it's related to you. No one would be able to defeat him.

❀Tormund is a proud husband. He's always telling stories about something you've done. It doesn't have to be a massive victory. You could help sow his trousers together and he could make it sound like you defeated a bear.

❀This also goes with everything you make him. Craft him a new weapon, he shows it off to everyone. Stitch him some new furs, and Tormund will brag. He loves showing off the things you do for him.

❀When you are in battle together Tormund keeps an eye on you as much as he can. He knows you can be ruthless with any weapon, but he still worries. The tension in his shoulders does not lessen until he's caught a glimpse of you again.

❀When the battle is finally over, Tormund is quick to locate you. He hoists you into his arms and takes you away from the scene. He needs to spend some time alone with you. To celebrate and reassure you are both still alive and together.

❀If Tormund sees something he thinks you'll like, he'll take it. He doesn't care who it belongs to, he'll find a way to obtain it. He enjoys the way your face lights up whenever he presents you with something.

❀Tormund puts your needs before his own. He must protect you, to look after you, to make sure you are taken care of and provided for. He needs to make sure you're happy and safe.

❀With this being said, you make then make sure Tormund is looked after. Tormund will protest, but you remind him you made vows to protect and look after each other. He reluctantly allows it.

❀Tormund is easily a jealous person. He knows what other men think. He's always skeptical about their movements and their motivations. He's quick to remind the two of you one married and unless they want him to rip their head off they need to leave you alone.

❀Tormund takes you everywhere. He even takes you to the wall. If he's going somewhere he doesn't see why you can't come with him.

❀Tormund's not great when he's poorly. He's used to being able to go at one hundred percent. Yet when he's sick he becomes solely dependent on you. Suddenly, he's a child again. Tormund hates it. Although the extra attention from you isn't too bad.

❀Tormund also gifts you weapons. He likes to know he's gifted you the weaponry to protect yourself with.

❀Tormund likes you to sit in his lap. Why would you need a chair when he has a perfectly good lap? Even if you go to sit in a chair. Tormund will pull you into his lap.

❀Tormund is an openly affectionate person. He holds very little boundaries. He doesn't care who sees. If he wants to show you affection. If they want to stare, let them. If they want to look away then do it. ❀Tormund is going to be blunt in your relationship. He's never going to beat around the bush. He wants you to be completely honest. When you and Tormund get married, Tormund refuses to be with anyone else. Nothing or no one can tempt him. ❀Tormund likes to call you terms of endearment like "my love", "my fire", "my wild heart" ❀Tormund is a gentle giant. He loves you with all his heart. Wholy and without any conditions. He's willing to tear him apart and build you a safe place. Marriage is serious to Tormund as are you.

[lovezella]

The Witch of Westeros

CHAPTER ONE - what heavy storm brings

disclaimer:

I do not own House of the Dragon nor the Scarlet Witch and her powers. Credits to Marvel and Stan Lee.

gif not mine, I got it from pinterest

this fanfic does not follow the plot of the series nor its books. storyline belongs to me.

note:

I am so so sorry for not updating for weeks, I've been busy with school and friends and christmas. And I also lost my motivation with writing but I'm back now!!

anyway, sorry for the long wait!!

warning:

mention of blood, open wounds, and I think that's all, but if I missed anything, please tell me. !! NOT EDITED !!

-×-

Thunder was heard from the gloomy sky, and a howl of wind passed through the crowd of people from the busy streets of the market. Yells and cries of vendors who desperately call for customers to buy from their shops mixed with the sound of talks of the people passing by, but the only thing you can focus on that leaves their mouths is the topic of the prince's name day.

Prince Joffrey's 12th name day was the only thing people talked about the whole week. And it was tomorrow. However, the king hosted a get-together party tonight and invited a few noble houses to celebrate. Despite not having an invite, the people of King's Landing are hosting dinner feasts in their homes in honour of the prince's day.

Though, you can't say the same. Unlike the others excited about the prince's name day, you were lost.

Five months, that's how long you've been in this...peculiar world. Although, you can't say that the last five months had been treating you with nothing but peace, something you needed after everything. The world you landed in was strange. Nevertheless, it amazes you how it all works. You don't know everything about it yet, but the experience was enough to tell you that it's nothing like the others you've ever been to.

Another rumble from the sky was heard, and it was enough to signal you that rain—perhaps a storm might arrive due to the gloomy weather.

The thought of a storm coming made you quicken your pace. You were making your way home from the market since you decided to shop for food like the others. Though your house wasn't much like a real house, it's more of a cabin. But it was big enough for a family of three.

Your house came into your view a few feet away. It was located nearby the shore and a few miles from the city. The waves from the sea were getting harsher and more vigorous. You internally thank your past self for putting an invisible barrier, a hex, around the house for safety.

Just as you were about to enter, something floating from the sea caught your attention. You don't know what it was, but a small voice in your mind told you to check it out.

Dropping the bags you held to the ground gently enough, not letting anything fall to waste. You position your hand to your side, ready to summon your magic in case it is dangerous you're walking towards.

As you approach the sea, you notice that what is floating isn't a creature or an object. It was a body. A human body.

But you didn't know if they were alive or not.

The thought of a possible dead body floating in the sea made your hesitation go away and run toward the sea, not caring if your skirt got wet. You'll dry it later with magic.

When you got closer to the body, it gave you a good look at them. He was a boy, merely a man. His sleeve was ripped open, and a deep gash on his arm. Blood dripped down from the wound, and it was clear it was still fresh. You pressed your fingers on his pulse, sighing in relief when you realized he was alive.

Not wasting any more time, you waved your hand, lifting the young boy with your magic and snapping your fingers with your free hand, teleporting you and the boy inside your home.

You placed him on the sofa, carefully lifting his wounded arm. You crouched down beside him and started using your magic to heal him.

Once he was fully healed, you took some heavy metal off the armour so he could be more comfortable and used your magic to dry him off. Looking at his wound again, your magic helped it heal, but there was still a dark scar.

You summoned a clean towel to clean off the excess blood on his arm. He stirred a little from your touch, and you thank the gods that he was alright. You softly smiled, bringing your free hand to brush his hair, soothing him back to sleep.

He reminded you of your twins with his dark brunette hair, but he mostly reminded you of your Billy. He was usually the gentle one, keeping his brother out of trouble or, at least, he tried to. You wondered if this young boy is like him too or if he has a brother or sister.

"Oh, Gods." You mumbled, eyes widening in realization. Your hand slowed as your mind became clouded with thoughts. His family, his parents. They must be so worried about him.

Sighing, you continued cleaning his arm and stood up, patting your dress that was still wet. You figured you would ask him when he wakes up. Hopefully, he trusts you enough to tell your where he came from so you can bring him back to safety.

-×-

The storm wasn't stopping anytime soon, so you thought you could make a nice warm soup for you and the boy when he woke up. It was a cold, chilly night, and you changed into a more comfortable dress to keep you warm. You noticed the young boy was shivering from the cold, so you brought a nice fur blanket and wrapped it around him.

You sat on the stool, looking out the window as you got lost in your thoughts, thinking about, well...everything.

This world was different, but it somehow felt familiar to you. You weren't a nostalgic person, per se. But you do value things, especially memories.

You sighed blissfully, the sound of heavy rain dropping from the skies with thunder following. It was the same weather when you first arrived, and it caused you a sense of deja vu. You still remember what happened months ago.

But before you could get lost in your thoughts again, you heard a groan behind you. He's awake.

You turned to see him sitting up, looking around, confused. You felt bad for the young boy. "You're awake," You spoke in a soft tone.

He turned in surprise before standing up quickly. "W-who are you? Where am I?" He urgently asked in a shaky tone.

You sent him a soft smile, hoping to ease him. "You're in my house, dear. I found you in the sea with a deep wound in your arm and brought you here before you lost more blood and healed you." You explained to him.

He seemed speechless for a second as if he couldn't believe he was still alive. Was the accident he was in so bad that he is contemplating his survival?

"Thank you," The young boy said, looking down shyly before looking you in the eye. "Thank you for healing me, my lady."

You smiled at him, "Of course, it's no problem." Just then, you remember the food you made. "Oh, I made some food if you want some. It's still warm, perfect for the weather."

He seemed hesitant, but his stomach let out a grumble. His gaze dropped to his stomach, frowning as if he felt betrayed. You chuckled, gesturing for him to sit on the stool on the other side. You then stood up and got him a bowl of food, placing it on his side of the table.

"Come, don't be shy." You sent him a gentle smile. He eventually gave in and sat on the stool. You observed as he took his first bite, and seeing his eyes light up made you smile wider.

"Are you feeling better?" You asked, trying to make small talk but also concerned about his health.

He looked up and nodded, "Yes, my lady. I feel a lot better."

"Oh, please, call me Y/n." You insisted.

"If you insist, my lad- I mean, Y/n. My name's Lucerys," Lucerys said, nodding his head respectfully.

For some reason, the name felt familiar to you. Sure, you heard it from somewhere before. Lucerys...Lucerys Velaryon, oh gods, he's a prince. The son of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Leanor Velaryon, but he and his brothers were rumoured to be bastards. You knew better than to assume things, although the people in the city were sure of it. Anyway, it's not like your opinion mattered.

"You're a prince." You pointed out, trying to be calm so he wouldn't freak out.

Lucerys looked around before sighing. "Yes, I am a prince. And I assure you, lady Y/n, that I mean no harm to you and your family."

"I am not worried about that, dear." You assured him, standing up from your chair. "Tea?" you offered, placing two cups on the table. He nodded, muttering a small 'please' and 'thank you' before taking a bite of his food.

Another thunder was heard from outside, startling Lucerys a little. You looked out the window and saw the rain getting heavier.

"Lucerys, honey," You started, and the young boy looked at you, "I don't think the storm is going to end soon. Should you stay here for the night until the storm stop, we will figure out how to bring you back to the princess safely," you suggested.

"Oh, no, no. I couldn't intrude, my lady." He declined, shaking his head and taking a sip of his tea.

"Don't worry, dear. You're not intruding." You said, putting away your plate and cup. "I have two rooms and extra clothes for you to be comfortable." Lucerys was undecided, but when he looked at the hardy storm outside, he eventually agreed.

You guided him to one of the empty rooms you had and gave him spare clothes to change into.

"Lady Y/n," Lucerys called before you could close the door.

"Yes, Luke?" He insisted that you call him that instead of his full name just a while ago when you showed him the room.

"Thank you for this, all of this." He said, smiling at you shyly, but there was a grateful look on his face to show that he was completely genuine.

You smiled back at him, but the more you looked at him, he kept reminding you of your Billy. "You're welcome," you replied, nodding your head before closing the door.

You hoped that you could bring him home safely tomorrow to his family.

taglist: @cleverzonkwombatsludge @floralenvu @scarwicht @todod0kii

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

Dark! Aemondx reader

Five elements part 2♡

Warnings: Not so feministic Aemond, abuse on the half blinded (Aemond) smut and kinks definitely some praise kink mc, they all need therapy, spankings and implied martial abuse. Non con kissing and willingly for other things. Incest as Aemond is sorttaa related to baratheon (is he? *music stops*) and incest and also dirty daydreaming and fantasying .

Taglist: @iiamthehybrid @winxschester

Concept: Aemond comes wife hopping at Storm's end and you and your sisters are first getting tasted before he makes his choice. Very sub mc and dom aemond but also aemond with her sister's and mc watching.

Robert: I hate all Targaryens

Aemond:

Robert; he's cool tho

There is a brief moment before panic erupts under all of you. Your mother comes over as well, horror written across her face. 'Prince Aemond, I must insist that you behave yourself under our roof. These are my daughters, and your future wife is among them. You will not taste them, and you will most certainly not question their innocence.' Your mother wants to do even more like smack his head against a wall and yell at the prince, but your father calls her back, horrified and embarrassed. 

You realize your mother is about to be punished. He has not done that in years. The last time was during a supper. He grabbed and dragged her away to their bedchamber. You heard about what husbands do with their wives when they are disobedient. 'Elenda, get here.' He does not even yell. Your mother freezes up at his strict voice.

Aemond's lips smack, in amusement and cruel sadism. He is like a little boy who gets told by his father that he is right to bully his siblings. 'Seems like you got yourself into some trouble, my lady.' He mocks her openly. 'Do not worry about your girls. They are in good hands. ' He says with a cold smirk. Your father drags your mother away.

The prince walks over to the throne not long before sitting down on it. One of the guards, you know him as Edan Stone, is brave enough to confront him. ‘My prince, that seat is not yours.’

The only sound the Targaryen prince makes is a soft chuckle. ‘You must not be aware of how politics work. Well, what do I expect from a mere soldier? You never had a proper education. You would not dare even question my motives if you did.’’ His voice is much sharper and becomes louder with every passing word. Ellyn reaches for your hand, squeezing it tightly when softly muttering that she would like to go to her rooms again. You agree. Everything is better than enduring this. 'now leave us all.' The guards leave the room.

The prince cocks his head at her, noticing her tears and her trembling hands. He has the smile of a wolf who sees a deliciously easy lamb to rip apart. ‘You, get here.’ He is not just calling her over, he is commanding her. Maris shakes her head at Ellyn but Ellyn does not have her courage. She slowly makes her way to Aemond.

You can see the jealousy in Floris’s eyes grow, just as her smirk as she thinks of a clever little plot. You and Maris share a glance and seem to think the same. ‘Princess Rhaenyra was allowed to sit in that chair, when she had her suitors come over. I am sure that father would not mind sharing his seat with his future son in law.’ Floris speaks, quickly interrupting Aemond and trying to steal away the attention from her sister. Aemond sinks back in the chair, resting his arms on the armrests. He forces his head against the back of the chair and gestures for Ellyn to come closer.

She hesitates. He chuckles before getting up. ‘I do not think I have ever been denied before by any woman.’ He ignores Floris and by his smirk you can tell its on purpose. He grabs Ellyn by her waist, ignoring her protests and whimpers when he is a bit too rough. He forces her head closer to his own and kisses her on her lips. She tries to break free desperately as if she is a bird in the mouth of a cat. You watch, frozen when your sisters are fed up with Aemond. Ellyn catches her breath and he uses that opportunity to force his tongue in her mouth. He grabs her chin and holds her during the kiss, so she has no chance of escaping.

Once he is finished, he drops her as if she is nothing, moving on to his next target. It is quite amusing watching him count you and your sister and realizing that one is missing. It is even more amusing when he realizes someone has snuck behind him, and you are laughing when Maris smacks him across his arrogant face, leaving a good red mark.

Ellyn uses this to escape and rushes to your side across the room, before crying out in your arms. She probably imagined her first kiss differently.

Cass takes the pitcher from the servant and fills her cup before raising it to Maris. Floris looks horrified and tries to earn his love by rushing to his side and offering her help and support. You are the only one staying far away. ‘Get off of me, wench.’ He groans at Floris as she touches his face. She obeys him, shocked that she is for once not the thing everyone wants.

‘You,’ he sounds even more hateful than before. Maris makes a curtsy and lowers her eyes but they are twinkling with mischief. You release a laugh. The prince’s head briefly snaps towards you before glaring at you. You stop laughing. Cass stops drinking and watches the exchange between the two of them, worried. 

Maris and your sisters enjoy this victory and his shame and humiliation of being beaten by a girl for a brief moment. Then, you all regret it. He grabs Maris by her throat, squeezing it so harshly you can see his fingerprints on it. He grins, laughing as if he has gone insane. ‘Apparently you are a bit jealous. Do not worry, you are next.’ He groans in her face, dragging her to the throne. 

‘You are an insolent stupid, ignorant, dumb little-’ He scolds when sitting down and taking her on his lap. You never saw anything like that before and have trouble looking away. You watch as his hands go over her neck, to her back, and to her behind...

Ellyn clutches to Cass’s side. ‘What will he do with her? We need to get father. He will stop this madness.’ You doubt it. 

You hear Maris cry out and realise that Aemond has hit her. 'You can't hit a lady!' Your sister Cass roars angry. 'You are a despicable little beast.'

The prince scoffs unbothered and even smiles when Maris whimpers terrified of him. 'But I can spank her. This is nothing unusual for a wife and her husband.' You know what that word means from a few books Cassandra reads sometimes and watch as your sister lies over his legs getting punished by the prince. She keeps quiet mostly and he hates it. He does everything in his power to make her scream, cry or to even beg him.

The way he hits her looks so painful. You can almost feel his hands on your flesh hitting you. You see her ashamed cheeks turn red and watch as she tries to fight but eventually accepts her punishment. Aemond has not stripped her, as he is not her lord husband yet. He has no right, yet.

When Maris is properly tamed and done for She is lifted. He grabs her by her throat as a warning and feels her breasts with his hands. You watch fascinated and worried as he smashes his lips on her own kissing her. Maris moans and feels his knees where she was laying moments earlier. You feel a strange thirst. You feel yourself become breathless.

The prince sends her away.

'Anyone else who needs to be taught a lesson?' He eyes you and your sisters, eager to punish whoever might defy.

You bite your lip and raise your chin; making direct eye contact with the prince. He grins and raises a brow at you before patting his knee, inviting you over. You quickly blush and back away, hiding from him. He chuckles.

You quickly glance back at your feet. That was poor timing on your behalf. You scold yourself in your head. Your other sister, meanwhile, sits the throne. Floris slowly takes off her dress, revealing her breasts. Aemond seems interested and comes over. He grabs her and forces her to stand. She kisses him desperate like lovers do.

Floris subtly drops her gown a bit, showing more of her breasts. Aemond grins before touching her nippels and biting her neck as if he is an animal. You watch as the two of them kiss each other passionately. Aemond slams her against the throne and spreads her legs...

Your mouth turns dry as his hands vanish under her skirts touching her. She lets out cries of pleasure. You wonder how he is touching her. How is making her feel that good. If he can make you, feel that good.

Someone squeezes you, and you are startled. Cass glares at you. 'Bentha,' She whispers furiously. 'You are watching.'

Your voice cracks and you are in need of a drink.

'I never saw any man-' you try to defend yourself.

Cass sighs. 'I will get you a man, but not him. He will destroy you.' You hear a voice whisper that no man will do that with you what he does.

Floris cries out, and you watch her closely studying her. 'What is happening to her?' Ellyn asks, worried for Floris's safety.

'She has just finished.' Maris responds drly. Ellyn blinks.

Ellyn blushes, hoping she midunderstands it all. 'With what exactly?' You all groan.

The prince sighs and grins as Floris puts her dress back on. He walks back to you all. You watch as he dryly wipes off his fingers on a towel. 'You girls are tameable, it seems.' He makes you all sound like disobedient women.

He counts you all again shoving some of you aside. 'I already kissed you, you and now you...'

You and Cass remain.

'Leaving you two.' He says joyfully. Cassandra sighs before accepting that she is next. She grabs his face gently and kisses his lips before he can even understand what is happening. She also uses her tongue like he did on Ellyn. She grins when he is absolutely shocked and wordless by her bold display.

'That was everyone.' She joyfully says. 'You did it.' She is saving you from him.

Aemond seems that confused that he does not realise that mistake.

'No; Bentha remains.' Floris suddenly rings out joining you.

You feel yourself shake. You gulp.

The prince grabs you by your hips dragging you closer to him. You feel his hot breath on your lips and feel yourself fall. 'You're mine, little stag.'

You gulp. 'Let her be, Aemond. She is the youngest. She has no interest in you.' Maris tries to intervene. It's useless.

Floris growls. 'It's a kiss.' Aemond brings you back to the throne.

You are pushed on his lap, forced to sit. You feel his warmth and sweat unintended. You never were so close to any man.

'I am not sure that is entirely true.' He says once you are sitting. You feel him touch your legs gently. You think of him parting them and feeling you like he did with Floris. What is wrong with you? He hurt your servants.

'Shall we kiss?'

'I want to have a chat with you first.' He saw you. He saw you watch. You blush. 'Yes, I saw you peek when I finished your little sister off. When she came on my lap. I also saw you gawk when I spanked your sister and forced my tongue in your other sister's throat.' He describes it.

'I was worried for their safety-' he laughs.

'I gave all your siblings a little lesson. Ellyn learned how to kiss, Maris learned the value of spankings, Floris learned how to come, and Cassandra learned how to seduce. What do you hope I teach you, little stag?' You are surprised that he even knows your names and who is who. Some servants take years.

He kisses your neck, and you gasp.

'They didn't like their lessons.' You say nervously.

'You are different. I bet you'd be the most wonderful student. So obedient to please your teacher.' Your body reacts so unpleasantly. You are wet.

'I need-' you need to get away from him. Now.

He grins. 'No, little stag. I am not quite finished.'

'Please-' you beg getting up.

'No, I said.' He says strictly and gives you a light smack on your behind. It is not enough force but it turns you on so quickly. You moan even. You blush mortified and ashamed. You definitely liked that. Wether you knew it prior or not. You whimper. You hear him chuckle. 'I will teach you.'

'I will teach you what it means to be a woman.' You watch in horror as he shoves a small silver ring around your finger before grabbing you and throwing you over his shoulder. 'Tell Lord Borros I claimed his youngest.' He tells the other girls before carrying you off. 'O, and don't come knocking any time soon.'

/a/n

IF THE DRAGON IS ROCKING DONT COME KNOCKING.

[thevampirelevi]

Adventureland | Part IV

Masterlist

"Leviathan." (part 4/7)

cw: vampire!eddie x fem!reader, mentions of blood, mature language, parts of this chapter written in first person pov (briefly!)

wc: 6.6k+

You knew it wouldn’t take long for your aunt or uncle to actually phone up your dear old dad and casually drop your current location, thus blowing your whole cover. You weren’t sure what to expect, would they all be angry with you? Disappointed? Concerned maybe? Sympathetic to your desire to flee after perhaps your first ever heartbreak in life? All these possibilities played musical chairs in your head the entire month you were in Hawkins, but never once could you anticipate the possibility of going through another heartbreak when Judgement Day finally came. 

Maybe it was your lack of sleep or your low mood that raised suspicion in the first place and gave your aunt the motivation to finally clue your father in. Maybe they began planning your intervention when you’d begun to spend far too long cooped up inside of a room that isn’t truly your own. Maybe this was actually the universe’s doing, deciding to punish you once more in the ultimate cosmic “Fuck you.”

You’d actually decided that today was the day you’d be reborn, try to act as if nothing was wrong, forget you’d ever met Eddie. Blissfully unaware, you gave yourself a hot shower and tried to pick an outfit you’d really liked out of the remnants of your wardrobe. Tied up your laces, enthused to treat yourself to breakfast at the diner when you were suddenly met with a surprise waiting for you in the kitchen.

“Morning, I’m gonna go eat at Benny’s today-” you’d started to say, expecting only your aunt. 

You stop at the end of the staircase, all three members of your family staring back at you. 

“Surprise seeing you here,” says your father. “Take a seat.”

Hesitantly, you join them at the dinner table and take your silent settle, unsure of what to even try to say. Luckily for you, your aunt makes the next move as a way to cut through the tension that thickens the air. 

“Honey,” she places her mature hand over yours gently over the placemat. “Your uncle and I have been a little worried about you, so I called your father yesterday afternoon. Only for him to inform me that he was already looking for you and had no idea you were even here.” 

“Why didn’t you come home, or at least call Y/N?” he chimes in, his voice is stern and laced with concern and hints of anger. 

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly. “I was going to tell you all everything, I swear, but-”

Your father interjects, “But?”

“I just didn’t know where to start,” you sigh exasperatedly. “I still don’t. I needed some time. Just time to think, not answer everyone’s questions since I don’t quite know all of the answers yet myself.”

“Well,” a deep sigh above your father’s mustache is expelled as he exhales loudly from his nose. “Time’s up. Start talking.” 

You blink rapidly, trying not to cry, moistening your lips and swallowing the lump that forms in your throat. This is the first time you’ve actually been forced to fully face the intrusive thought of him and the events that transpired between the two of you the last time you shared a room. 

“Chance,” you start off slow, his name feeling foreign on your tongue. “We broke up.”

The room is quiet for a moment, processing. 

“On Valentine’s Day, actually.” you continue. 

Your aunt’s eyes, too similar to your mother’s, flitter with sympathy as she braves you a sad smile. “Oh sweetie, I’m sorry that happened to you.”

Before she can make claims about the population of fish in the sea, you go on. “I just grabbed all of my things and left. I didn’t want to think about him anymore and,” you look up for the first time, aiming your gaze at your father and his sorry expression as you address him specifically, “You always ask about him so I just wasn’t ready to go home, not yet.”

“Y/N,” your dad’s voice is soft now but still somewhat stern. “You could’ve told me, sweetpea. I’d have ripped him a new one when he came ‘round looking for you the other day, if I’d have known that…”

“That’s probably why she didn’t want to tell you,” your uncle speaks for the first time, chuckling. 

You halt, “Chance was looking for me..?”

Your father nods, wrinkles appearing in between his bushy brows. “Showed up on my doorstep asking for you, said you had a fight and that you took off. Guess he figured you came back home. Had me worried sick, I called nonstop for about two weeks, waiting for you to call home off some payphone in Timbuktu but you never did. I was this close to filing a missing person’s report when your aunt here finally rang me and said you were here.”

“I’m really sorry, dad,” you take your hands into your lap, pulling at a hangnail and avoiding meeting your father’s eyes. “I didn’t think he would show up, I never meant to make any of you worry.”

“Well you did,” your old man rises to his work booted feet and pulls you to yours, tears welling up his eyes that he tries to hide. “I know you’re an adult now n’ all, but you’re still my little girl. Don’t ever scare me like that again, y’hear me?”

“Yes sir,” you promise, muffled as you’re hugged to his chest.

“Good. So, when are you coming home?”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───── ⋆⋅˚ʚ♡ɞ˚⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Nancy Wheeler. She was the one condition keeping you from being dragged all the way back to Bloomington, at least that you and your father agreed upon. Albeit, now that your father was finally filled in on all of the details and knew not to speak a certain name, there wasn’t a logical reason to explain your reluctance on going back - but there certainly may have perhaps been an illogical reason. The lie? That you were finally reconnecting with some old friends and wanted to spend more time with them, and when put on the spot you could name none other than Nancy Wheeler. 

Not only was she one of the only people you knew of that was likely still in Roane County, but she was also one of your only friends that your father could actually remember by name. Once upon a third grade ago. 

It had been so long since you’d last been to her address, it was a mystery how you’d still remembered it. 2530 Maple Street, wherein resides your first order of business with your Pops off your back. 

You need only knock once, powder blue door answered by who you recognize to be Karen Wheeler. Older than in your memories and hair definitely lighter than the last time you’d seen her, but nevertheless the same woman you remembered from sleepovers, school bake sales, and parent conferences.

“Mrs.Wheeler?” 

The now blonde woman holds up her manicured hand in pause, looking you up and down, you watch her brain working. “Y/N?”

You smile, nodding. “That’s me.”

Karen’s jaw slacks open ever so slightly in surprise, but her cedar eyes light up enthusiastically. “Y/N honey, I haven’t seen you in a hot minute. Not since-”

“I’m back in town for a bit, figured I’d stop by and say hi.”

“Of course,” she smiles, showing more of her age. “Oh well, Nancy’s not home right now but maybe I can take your number? We’d love to have you over for dinner sometime.”

“Sure thing,” you answer, letting Mrs.Wheeler guide you inside of her suburban home. 

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───── ⋆⋅˚ʚ♡ɞ˚⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

‘Nancy Wheeler called’ was scribbled on a note stuck to the fridge come the 24th of March, just the day after your run in with her mother. You’d secretly hoped there was a different name written in Nancy’s place when you first spotted the sticky note, but remembered then that you never gave Eddie your number. 

Pleasantries were exchanged when you called Nancy back and you were now on your way to the recently rebuilt ‘Starcourt Mall’ to meet with her, the duration of your phone call short and sweet, similar to chatting up a receptionist. The nerves wriggling in your tummy had you hoping things would feel less awkward in person, that you could pick back up right where you left off, otherwise you might soon have no choice but to acquaint yourself with people that were not at your mother’s wake. Given how long that guestlist was, your mommy dearest evidently very much cherished by this town for the years she spent as one of their most beloved teachers, that would be rather difficult. 

‘Sam Goody’ was the store you’d both agreed to meet in, its location memorized as the spot adjacent to the Sears where you bought your mourning dress. Man, you thought as you retraced your steps all the way there, this whole town is starting to feel like a funeral. 

As if another Momento Mori, you look up to find that your respected Sam has now joined the list of dead things and is instead replaced by ‘Musicland.’ You never even got to enjoy their “going out of business!” sale.

Nancy sees you before you recognize her, denim jacket draped over her arm, greeting you with a fond smile under her grown out perm. 

“Hey, it’s so good to see you again,” the honey brunette pulls you in for an unexpected hug, voice now more womanly without the static of the landline and less shy than how you remember. “How are you?”

“Good, good. How are you?” you try to match her enthusiasm but the words feel slightly forced, mirroring the awkwardness of your encounter on the phone as you both relearn one another’s presence while the dust settles. 

“Been alright,” she says, beginning to slowly make her journey between vinyl shelves and various displays, feigning interest as she skims along. You follow her loosely. “I’m now an investigative journalist at Hawkins Post.”

“Wait, that’s so cool,” you beam earnestly, memories of a young Nancy playing pretend news anchor swarming to the surface. “Look at you, Nancy Drew.”

Wheeler picks up a ‘The Clash’ CD, flipping it to eyeball the tracklist. “It was indeed very cool, at first. Not much to write about nowadays, though.”

“No? I’d think there’d be plenty of stories to cover still, y’know since the earthquake wasn’t that long ago. Seems people are still tryna recover.”

Nancy stops reading, looking up at you blankly as she stills. “Earthquake?”

“Yeah…The quake of ‘86?”

She blinks a few times, showing no remembrance before she shakes her head. “Oh, yeah. Right. I’m more true crime than regular watchdogs, though, so I didn’t have my piece on writing about that.”

Conversation waxes and wanes as you both sift through Musicland and hop around other stores as well, making a brief trip to the food court, catching up as old friends do - or at least making the attempt to. 

With what very little spending money you have, you earn yourself that ‘Transformer’ album on vinyl, a leatherbound journal with a moonstone clasp, and an invitation to Hideaway Pub next weekend, courtesy of your old childhood best friend. 

You’re informed that her boyfriend Jonathan and friend Robin will both be there, and Nancy encourages you to bring someone of your own, too. 

The idea of the one person you’d want to bring makes your heart do its familiar little ache. 

Your first time at the bar, you’re too preoccupied with nerves from meeting new people to really get a good look around the place. You’d end up regretting that later. 

For now, though, you stand glued to the sidewalk as you stare at the wavering rhombus of the neon sign. You gather all of your courage in a breath, remembering that this is part of Nancy’s oath to being a better friend - being there for you like how she should have last year, her words - her now doing her damndest at making you feel included. As if she actually missed your presence in Hawkins. As a burly man holds the door open for you upon his own exit, you take your cue. 

Cozied up inside of the privacy of a dimly lit leather booth, tucked away from the peanut shelled bar thankfully, sits Nancy and who you guess is Jonathan. The chime from your entrance a mere few feet away puts a pause to their simple conversation and Nancy, the one facing you, smiles in your direction as she waves you over. 

You opt for the seat next to her, allowing you a curious gander of her boyfriend as she introduces the two of you. 

Robin arrives by the time your drinks have made their way to your table, wasting little time in telling all about how a ‘Steve’ is the reason she’s late. While Jonathan is notably shy, Robin speaks as if she’s known you just as long as she’s known the couple, skipping over the jargon of any introductions. You’re glad to have her here, saving you from third wheeling, and also finding that she’s an easy person to warm up to. 

You’re nearing the end of your once seemingly bottomless pile of potato skins when Nancy starts a conversation about her brother Mike, of which you smile fondly as your only memories feature the preschool aged version of him. 

“How is Mike by the way?” you ask, these being part of the few words you’ve spoken over the course of the night. “There’s so many people I haven’t seen in so long. Like Barb, I remember her from our sleepovers. How’s she doing??”

Despite you asking what you think are innocent questions, silence is your only response as Nancy’s face suddenly goes pale and all eyes turn to her. Obviously, you never meant any harm by it and never would have asked had you known somehow that the pair of childhood best friends had had a falling out. By the looks of it, a bad one at that, as you quickly find yourself stepping out of the booth to allow Nancy out as she rushes to the bathroom before you can even offer an apology, seemingly about to hurl. 

“Sore subject?” you ask quietly, fidgeting your fingers as you try to come to terms with possibly ruining the friend group you’d just barely had hopes of forming, wondering how you manage to keep doing and saying the wrong things. 

Jonathan nods, chin in hand as he rests his elbow on the table. “Not your fault, you don’t know. It’s just kinda hard for her to talk about still.”

Robin, perhaps having one too many beers and/or a low tolerance for cheap booze or just naturally outspoken in general, adds, “Barb’s unfortunately part of the list of people gone without a trace from what I know. No one saw what happened. If I lost my best friend like that, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself either.”

Not wanting to gossip, but letting your curiosity get the best of you anyways, you lean in closer with a hushed voice, “List of people..?”

Robin is too lost in her own thoughts as she thinks out loud to notice the looks Jonathan tries to send her, and he's too soft spoken to stop her from saying too much. “I mean, I’m not entirely sure it’d be better to find them down there after what could have got to them, but at least it’d be an actual answer.”

Deciding not to press the issue any further, given Jonathan’s apparent anxiety about the topic, you remain silent as you try to solve the puzzle with missing pieces inside your head just as Nancy finally returns. 

“Are we all ready to call it a night?” Her voice is soft, nothing in her tone indicating that she’s still upset. No one protests and you all begin to file out once the bill is paid two separate ways. You thank Jonathan for covering you and he mumbles something about “Don’t mention it.”

Robin is riding with Nancy and her boyfriend, beating them to the car as you walk to your own parked further down the street. You feel a soft hand stop you by your elbow. 

Nancy offers you a small smile, no harm no foul, “See you next weekend?”

You return the gesture, accepting, relieved. Despite now not having to question if you were going to be exiled, your mind still sashays like the hula dancer on your dash even the whole car ride home. Questions fill the unusual silence of your car. 

What did Robin mean by “List of people gone without a trace” and whatever else she said about finding them “down there after what could have gotten to them”?

Your first nightmare in weeks makes its prompt return this very same night, now arguably the price you must pay for allowing your curiosity about this increasingly strange town - and its even stranger people, and their secrets - to peak. It’s no surprise when you wake at three in the morning, equipped with new use of your new journal. 

March 31st

Fissures split the earth, scarlet glowing like ruby embers from the ravines and from the sky. People are running, abandoning their cars in what is left of the street as Doomsday approaches. The earth is divided in two, and then just as fast is severed by tenfold. Nameless people plummet to their deaths, passersby in the sea of people forced like magnets to the earth’s core against the flow of the stampede. 

A red haired girl no older than a teenager reaches her hand out to me, dangling off of the jagged edge of the street as she fights against being pulled under. I can see her umber eyes pleading behind the cracked lenses of her glasses. Just as I’m about to help her, the shock of a cold hand clasping onto my other wrist jerks me awake, alone. 

You fully intend on leaving the dream within its leatherbound confines and hope to use the rest of the flyleaf for grocery lists or something. You even keep busy as a means of distraction, helping your aunt and uncle run their motel for a small allowance and making due of your mileage the most you can between there and Wheeler’s house. Against your efforts however, you find yourself narrowly escaping dream death yet again. This time, ostensibly triggered by seeing Mike for the first time in years. Tall, lanky, and wearing a worn out t-shirt with fading iron-on letters just so barely spelling out ‘Hellfire Club.’ 

Not having brought your journal with you, because why would you, when your eyes snapped open to the darkness of Nancy’s bedroom, you tossed and turned in your makeshift bed as you lost all details of the dream to the start of a hangover. All details but one. 

Two black eyes like endless pits, flames dancing in their reflections, staring down at you. 

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───── ⋆⋅˚ʚ♡ɞ˚⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

April 11th

‘Welcome to Hawkins HELL. Population 001.’ The red paint graffiti’d on the road sign matches the hue of the sky, which I can see in all of the mirrors of my car and through the cracked windshield as I drive through a sea of bodies bloodied on the pavement. The radio is on, crackling with a distorted voice chanting, “MASTER, MASTER!”

Suddenly there are figures moving in my rearview mirror as the stereo switches its mantra. “LAUGHTER, LAUGHTER!” The figures only appear closer and closer as I fail to accelerate against the pile of corpses littering the road. They’re too tall for me to see anything above their shoulders, and too tall to be human, gray torsos moving like the bones are broken and limbs too long for their emaciated lich-like bodies like something out of Evil Dead. I can hear their groans fill my ears before suddenly, all goes quiet as my car dies and the radio fades away. “MASTER, Master, master…”

Just as I’m considering making a run for it, something pale makes itself known to me in my rearview mirror and its black eyes stare back at me beneath its mess of dark hair. This is the last thing I see before I wake up, feeling like I’m being watched still. 

April 13th

Sterile white walls surround me with only one, long rectangular mirror separating the scene. I see myself, gray and gaunt, a stream of crimson flowing in blood ribbons down my neck and soaking the starch hospital gown I am apparently wearing at the collar. Instinctively, I try to reach my hand up to touch it but find that my hand is fixed in place at my side as if I’m restrained. Looking down at said hand, I realize it is trapped by the cold, unmoving grip of a statue I hadn’t noticed before. Slowly, my eyes trail up the tall statue towards its face where I see it is made apparent that it is weeping blood from its blind eyes, which drips onto my neck. As I try to break free, I glance at the mirror whilst in the struggle at what I can only make out to be the sound of pebbles hitting the other side.

To my surprise, a devilish grin stares back at me. 

April 20th

A dark abyss is perforated by tiny flecks of starlight, which is where I’m floating when I hear a raspy voice pleading with me, “I can explain everything…

Suddenly the shout of your aunt’s voice from downstairs puts a bookmark to your writing. 

“Y/N,” she bellows. “Phone’s for you!”

You make your way downstairs, already knowing Nancy is waiting on the other line. The pair of you have grown pretty close over the course of the month, grief being the tide that brings you both together. You never pry, but sometimes Nancy volunteers to talk about Barb and gives small glimpses of what her life was like in the years you drifted apart. You however, you never speak about Chance, still have yet to tell her or a soul about your nightmares, and certainly are not yet ready to ever tell your friend about Eddie. That would one day change, but no time soon. 

“Hello?”

You hear shuffling in response. 

“Hey Y/N,” her voice is nonchalant in the way it usually is when she’s about to invite you out somewhere, of which you never decline. “You busy tomorrow?” 

You pause to think, even though it’s not like you’re drowning in plans, “I’m on innkeeper duty at the motel tomorrow morning, but I should be free by the afternoon?”

“Well a bunch of us are gonna set up a bonfire at the lake since it’s spring break for Mike and his friends. Wanna come?”

“Sure,” you answer without much thought except in hoping that it’s not Lover’s Lake that she’s inviting you to. 

“Cool, I’ll pick you up at around six.”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───── ⋆⋅˚ʚ♡ɞ˚⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The rich smell of firewood wafts through the trees as your group of three - Nancy, Mike, and yourself - carry all of the party amenities to where everyone else is gathered at the shore. Jonathan brought his brother Will, and his friend Lucas - who brought his girlfriend - and there are several other faces for you to put a name to. Nancy helps, landing on ‘Max’ using the hand free of carrying a wicker basket to point at a redheaded girl sitting close enough to the fire for the glow of the flames to illuminate the bare skin on her freckled arms.

You try not to stare, noticing how the girl seems to fold in on herself as if trying to shrink away from your small crowd of (new) friends. You notice the scars on her arms and some on her legs, straight and precise raised pink keloids, surgical. The glasses she wears even as the sun is setting hide the fact that she was curious about you, too. 

Soon enough, the circle of incongruent lawn chairs is filled around the firepit. Half full of people you at least somewhat know, and the other half of people you’re only learning the names of today. To your left is Robin, who’s sat next to who you now know as Steve, and sat to your right is a babyfaced teen named Dustin. The curly haired boy sneaks glances at you all night, which makes you wonder if you know him from somewhere. Despite how extroverted he acts toward the rest of the group, though, he does not utter one word to you. 

Several campfire stories later and a belly full of marshmallows cooked in a myriad of different doneness, you’re on aching feet ready to go home and recharge your social battery. You and Robin are helping Nancy lug her belongings back to her car when a boyish voice stops you. 

It’s Dustin, mustering up the words to finally ask the question he’d apparently been unable to sit still with all night. “Your name is Y/N, right..?”

You turn his way and nod, waiting for him to continue. 

“And you’re friends with Eddie?”

In one single second you’re feeling all of the color drain from your face at once, except at the apples of your numb cheeks. For some reason you have the sudden urge to run. 

But this time you don’t. You instead face his ghost, the sheer mention of his name that brings on a wave of unwanted thoughts, head on. You do your best to act unfazed, thinking that maybe you can fake it until you make it. “Don’t know him,” you shrug, catching up with Robin and leaving whatever Dustin’s reasoning was behind. 

Why is it becoming harder to get over a man that you barely even knew, over your ex boyfriend of two years? 

Maybe because it wasn’t Chance who you were looking for in crowds of people, getting Deja Vu from anyone who even slightly resembled him. It wasn’t Chance’s name you kept hearing, nor saying in your sleep. It wasn’t Chance who you dreamt of nearly every night. 

Tonight, it was Eddie. Your journal sat in its rightful place on your nightstand, waiting for you when you woke up calling out his name again. 

April 21st

Waves crash into my chest as I wade in darkness, my dreamself having no sense of the temperature, just only slightly the sensation, as faint as a blanket slipping off in the night. I have the feeling that I’m waiting for something or someone, as I find myself mumbling mid sentence as if there was anyone around to hear it, “I told you, it’s never too late…”I trail off, the fabric of the dream slowly unraveling as I start to question where I am and who I’m talking to. I turn my head in every direction, searching for the answer. 

When I finally look down into the water, I see a ring of light shine through the pool of black surrounding me. The glow is red, unnatural and unforgiving, reminding me of the persistence of a neon sign even meters below the surface of the water. It puzzles me, but this somehow leads me to the conclusion that I’m in Lover’s Lake. The light is almost, maybe, heart shaped.

Just then, a ring clad hand snakes around my ankle, pulling me under. 

For perhaps the first time ever since your acquired sleep apnea, and much to your surprise, you find yourself being rapidly lulled back to sleep. You hold your head up only long enough to jot down your first dream before a thick blanket of exhaustion smothers you out like a light. The last thing you see before you’re watching the back of your own eyelids is the glowing red of the alarm clock. 11:11pm.

This time, however, you’re aware that you’re dreaming the very moment your feet reach the ground. You almost have the feeling that you know exactly where you are as you step away from under a head of clouds aglow in the scarlet sky above you. You find a clearing in the forest enclosing you with ease, floating through time as you come face to face with the Motel 6 a mere few feet later.

The only source of light here forward illuminates the ‘No’ of the vacancy sign, sputtering for a moment before it gives out. The only car in the parking lot is your station wagon. You walk up to it, having to put a hand over your squinting eyes as you try to peer through the grime on the driver’s side window. Cobwebs have made a nest of your steering wheel and a thin blanket of dust and debris covers the upholstery of your seats. Your ignition is rusted over and the dancing hula girl on your dashboard is missing her head. 

You turn around and wander back through the trees from which you came. When you emerge from the forest this time, you’re in front of your childhood home. The front door is cracked open and you can tell that no one is home as you enter the darkness inside with a creak.

Particles float through the cold air as you analyze what was once your home. Dust has fallen on nearly every surface like snow, but when you go to pick up what should be a family photo you find only your parents in the picture. 

You nearly tear apart the whole place, turning the entirety of the second story upside down in search of nothing in particular, but come up empty handed regardless. No princess bedroom like how you’d left it, no pictures of you on the walls, not even a nursery. Just your parents’ bedroom and ensuite bathroom; a study where your room should be. 

You nearly come flying down the stairs and out the front door, making a beeline back to the forest. You clear the entire woods in just a few steps, born out the other end staring at a sign covered in large vines that reads “Forest Hills Trailer Park.”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───── ⋆⋅˚ʚ♡ɞ˚⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

By the next time you’re out with your newfound friends for a much needed break, Robin is the first to point out just how tired you look - much to your dismay. 

“Jesus Y/N, you getting any sleep?” asks the tallest member of your party, now that Jonathan’s decided to sit this one out. 

“Rob,” Nancy scolds her friend, shooting her a look. 

You shrug your shoulders, unable to fight the yawn that escapes your lips, “She’s right. I’m practically a member of the undead these days.”

“You okay?” asks Nancy. 

“Yeah, I mean, I’m fine.” This is when you decide to actually confide in your friends for once, hoping to put the nightmares to rest if you talk about it. “I’ve just been having these really weird dreams? Or nightmares, I guess.”

“Nightmares?” Robin echoes. “What about?”

You can feel Nancy studying you closely, no longer interested in her food. You choose your words carefully, deciding not to mention him just in case the pair before you might know of him. “Apocalyptic shit. Sometimes there will be these really strange monsters, or sometimes I’m in like a completely abandoned version of Hawkins. I dunno.”

“Monsters?” both women ask at the same time, staring. 

You laugh, “Maybe I never got over my fear of the Boogeyman,” you wipe your hands and throw the crumbled napkin onto your now finished plate, standing up from the booth. “Don’t judge.”

You glance over your shoulder a single time as you make your way to the bathroom, spotting Nancy and Robin muttering amongst themselves. You decide not to dwell on it, excusing yourself out of the way of a woman exiting the ladies’ room. Right when you’re about to enter behind her, your eyes focus on a particular poster on the wall between the two restrooms as she moves out of the way, a familiar face catching your eye. 

MISSING PERSON.

EDWARD MUNSON. 

Also known as “Eddie.”

20 years old —-- 5’10” —-- 145lbs.

Last seen: March 21st-

You rush inside of the bathroom before reading any further, drowning in your thoughts all too quickly within seconds already as you try to process what you’d just read. Hands bracing the sink, your reflection scares you as you stare back all wide-eyed like a deer in headlights. You attempt to turn the words over in your mind multiple times in an effort to make sense of them,

MISSING PERSON.

EDWARD MUNSON.

You see the image over and over again in your head, knowing that it’s him. 

MISSING PERSON. EDWARD MUNSON. Also known as “Eddie.”

His hair was a few inches shorter in that picture than when you’d last seen him, but everything else was all the same. Same doe eyed brunette that you’d last seen. Last seen in March. 

You stand there unsure of what to do, wondering for a second if this was the start of a panic attack similar to the one Nancy might have been subjected to when you mentioned Barb. 

Robin’s words suddenly echo in your mind. “The list of people gone without a trace.”

When you finally return to the table, you make it known that you’re ready to call it quits but without actual intention of going home just yet. 

You’re repeating the details you’d skimmed on your way out and in as you start up your car. Residence: Forest Hills Trailer Park. That was the place you’d seen in your dream.. If you have any information, please contact Wayne Munson. 

The sun is setting as you drive closer and closer to the trailer park, unsure if it’s your shot nerves or eyes blurry with tears that threaten to spill - not only does the place look eerily similar to how you’d dreamt it, but you could also swear you see Max, the redhead from the bonfire. You’re certain that it’s her as she comes fully into view and she stops walking at the sound of your tires pulling up nearby behind her. 

You park your car and exit the vehicle, hurriedly making your way towards the girl. “Max?”

She does not move, even once you reach her. 

“Um, hi I’m Y/N. I was at the lake, with Nancy?” you state to the back of her head. 

The girl finally turns around slowly, letting you notice the cane she holds for the first time. Her eyes are cloudy, milky white and darting back and forth constantly in apparent nystagmus. You’re too shocked to say anything else. 

“Yeah?” her quiet voice speaks finally, as if the recognition has dawned on her, she looks straight at you. 

“I-Um,” you shut your eyes and exhale, starting over. “You wouldn’t happen to know where Wayne Munson is, would you?”

Despite how ridiculous you suddenly feel for asking, Max turns ever so slightly and points directly to a trailer across the way as if blessed with vision. “That’s his new trailer.”

“Thank you,” you declare earnestly. 

Your heart banging against your eardrums, you make your way over to the trailer with the truck parked in front. Your feet drag as you amble up the stairs, and you notice something moving the blinds in one of the windows farthest from you out of the corner of your eye. At least someone’s home, you think. Stomach dropping under the heavy weight of dread, you raise an equally heavy fist to knock on the door. 

After several clicks, the door creaks open ever so slightly ajar to an older man with sharp blue eyes and a graying beard as he watches you cautiously from behind it, muttering a greeting with a gruff voice. 

You clear your throat, eyes misty already. “Wayne Munson?”

“Yes?” The man’s voice is low, almost a whisper. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was afraid of you. “Who are you?”

“My name is Y/N, um,” your voice is smaller than you intend, tired of having to introduce yourself. “I am- I was friends with your nephew, Eddie…When did he..When did he go missing?”

The man squints, deepening the wrinkles around his eyes. He opens the door fully now, casting away the shadows that were looming over his face. “Eddie’s fine,” he states matter of factly. 

It takes a second too long for his words to hit your brain, you were expecting the worst. Rarely ever are you wrong about that, especially these days, or so you thought. 

You’re unsure of letting out the breath you’re holding, “He’s- He’s fine?”

“Yes,” the man nods a single time, his expression just as puzzled as yours. “If you saw a poster or somethin’ my apologies, those are old. He’s been home for quite some time now.”

Finally, you breathe. “Oh. Is he home right now..?”

Wayne hesitates to answer, stepping back from the threshold and looking towards his right for a few moments. “Uh, no..He’s not, sorry.”

You know he’s lying, but you don’t test him. You take this as your final sign to let go, clearly you are unwanted. Your brain practically ran with the story of him being abducted or worse, instead of just coping with the fact that maybe he was just avoiding you. 

You vow to never smoke tree ever again. 

“Oh, okay,” you keep your tone chipper as you turn to leave. You will not cry. “Thank you.”

You’re making your way to where your car is parked, hands shaking and a gloomy overcast darkening the evening as it slowly begins to rain. You let one single tear fall, disguised by the raindrops. As you pivot to seat your body behind the wheel, you see a second door opening in the trailer you’d just left. You stop behind your open car door. 

Running so fast he’s nearly dodging falling rain is none other than ‘Edward Munson.’

Before you know it, the man is pulling you into his cold embrace as he breathes your scent deep into his lungs, leaving you florid and stammering. Butterflies choke up every word you want to say and he can feel your heart beating against his ribs, electrified. 

Finally he moves away, but only ever so slightly, barely leaving room for rain to fall between you. 

“I’m sorry,” his voice is raspy, strained. “I just have to try something."

You notice his hands are trembling as he opens and closes his balled up fists before finally using his cold hands to close the gap between your bodies. 

One hand at your cheek as your warm blood rushes to it, the other cold at your neck, rings pressing into your skin ever so slightly. He’s gentle with his hands but his lips crash into yours, hungry and practically burning with desire, leaving yours buzzing. You can’t help but to melt into him, touch starved yourself. You’re clearly not as famished as he is, though, a small whimper leaving him as you put your hand to his chest briefly just as you begin to run out of air. 

Finally he breaks away from you, you gasping, his eyes as dark as always but soft looking down at you - like graphite. The boy looks pained, almost. Lips and cheeks flushed. 

“Sorry,” he repeats sincerely, for multiple reasons. 

“Where were you?” the sadness in your voice makes his unmoving heart break, if only it could. 

Eddie’s cold breath fans your face as he exhales, still holding you to him. “I’ve been keeping something from you… But I just can’t stay away from you anymore.”

“What do you-” before you can get all of the words out, his lips are hugging yours again, shutting you up. He's all around you; the smell of his clothes, his grasp, his body, his kiss, all eclipsing you.

The man is quicker this time to remember you still need to breathe. He parts from you slowly, eyes still closed. You watch his adam's apple bob as he swallows, dark lashes even wispier against the hollows of his undereye as rain cascades down his pale cheekbones - making him look like a weeping angel. 

His pink lips part. “I’m a vampire.”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───── ⋆⋅˚ʚ♡ɞ˚⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

an: sooo sorry this part got delayed so many times! honestly, i'm not totally loving this story anymore. i'll def still finish but i just wanna say that any constructive criticism is always welcome <3

p.s.

max is only partially blind :3

- levi

[ifhymona]

٭* Not Too Late *٭

chino moreno x reader

Summary: Desperate for a job, you go out into the streets of Sacramento hoping at least one place will consider you. You come across a paper looking for a band’s new assistant. Little did you know, the band’s lead singer was your old best friend and ultimate back stabber.

chapter 2 ~ chapter 3

1k words

a/n: thank you guys so much for choosing my story to read ! i have been working on this story for months now and am passionate about it so any criticism is needed and accepted ! authors note’s are going to be a crucial part for understanding the story so please read them when you can ! also posted on my ao3 @romantic_daydream i hope you guys enjoy !

it was the summer of 1997. a month ago i had gotten fired from my job at a flower arrangement company and hadn’t had the motivation to get back up and look for work. i’m 20 years old still living with my parents because i dropped out of college.

mom and dad hated that i dropped out. they were already pissed that i had taken a gap year and started college at 19. i don’t know why though.

my dad barged into my room. “y/n! what do you think you’re doing?” he pulled my blanket that was covering me and opened the blinds.

“you can’t just be cooped up in your room all day! get up and go do something productive for once.” he yelled at me.

i groaned. “dad, it’s summer. i don’t wanna do anything.”

“y/n, you’re 20 years old with no job! i don’t wanna hear that there’s nothing to do when you can easily go out and get a job! now stop being a slob and go!” he slammed my door.

i sat up and looked around. my room was a mess and so was i. i will admit, ever since i lost my job, life has been shitty. my parents keep reminding me that i’m a nobody. i already know that. they think that telling me that will motivate me to get up and do something with myself. when i do, it’s always “wow you’re finally doing this for once?”

i shake off my thoughts and go take a shower and brush my teeth. i go to fix myself a cup of coffee and noticed my dad had left. i started thinking back to what he had said while i was making myself coffee. i hate to admit it but dad was right. i’m tired of feeling like a slob and a nobody and it was time i did something about it.

~

i was walking around town looking for work. i was able to apply at a handful of places already. i didn’t care what the job was, if i seen they were hiring on their door, i would walk in and apply. i noticed on a light post a big orange paper that stated “LOCAL BAND THE DEFTONES IN NEED OF AN ASSISTANT TAKE NUMBER BELOW FOR MORE DETAILS”

the deftones? i had never heard of them before but i do need a job. i ripped off one of the paper slips and went on with my day.

~

when i got home, i had called the number and i was told i would help the band with setting up venues and going out and getting whatever they needed last minute. they said to just show up at the address they gave me on saturday noon aka now today.

i was standing in front of what seemed to be an abandoned mechanics garage. there was a line of people standing outside of the door. i wasn’t expecting that much people to be here.

~

after around 40 minutes of waiting, i heard my name being called. i walked into the garage i had originally seen outside. i could tell that this was where they practiced since all of their instruments were here.

as i was looking around, i seen someone walking up to me.

“y/n l/n?” he read off a paper not paying attention to me. i recognized him though.

“camillo?”

he looked up. i seen him tense up when he realized who i was.

“oh great. i didn’t realize it was that y/n.” somebody walked up behind camillo and flicked his ear.

“what’s got your panties in a twist ?” he shaked my hand. “hello, my name is chi, i’m the bassist of the band.”

“nice to meet you, chi. i’m y/n.” i seen two people chatting together a few feet behind us. “and who are those people?”

chi shouted at them to come over. when my attention was on the two guys, i felt eyes on me. i looked over at camillo and he looked down at his paper. my attention was turned back to the two guys as they introduced themselves.

“i’m stephen, the lead guitarist.”

“and i’m abe the coolest drummer you’ll meet.” he winked at me. i chuckled.

“look guys, i can already tell, she doesn’t know what she’s doing. you need to leave.” camillo grabbed my arm and started pulling me towards the door. but my other arm was grabbed by chi.

“now hold on chino, you haven’t even given the girl a chance yet.”

“i don’t need to. i know her type.”

i pulled my arm out of camilo’s hand. “trust me, you don’t.” i glared at him. “if you don’t want me here then i’m completely fine with leaving.” i crossed my arms.

“there’s no need for that. come, sit.” chi pulled me and sat me down at the couch they had in their garage.

they all surrounded me and started asking me questions. i felt like i was being interrogated. they asked me questions about my favorite bands and if i had any previous experience in the music industry.

after around 20 questions or so, they all went to the corner of the room and whispered to each other while looking back to me. i tried to eavesdrop.

“guys, no. she cant be our assistant!” camillo exclaimed.

“why not? just because you’re the front man doesn’t mean you make all the decisions for the band.” abe told him.

“yeah and she’s basically perfect dude. you know it, i know it, we all know it! the chemistry is there! it feels like we’ve known her our whole lives and let’s be honest, everybody else who was here either was just a fan, here to meet us or genuinely kinda sucked.” chi explained.

stephen chimed in. “he probably doesn’t want her in because he can’t keep it in his pants.” they all started laughing while camillo’s face turned a bright red.

“you know what fine. you guys win this time.”

i turned my head to make it seem like i didn’t hear anything when they walked my way.

“you’re in.” they all said.

a/n: i hope you guys liked the first chapter ! i’m only posting this just to see how it does so if you guys want chapter 2, just comment it and i’ll post ! lots of love <3

[anxious-lee]

|| Lackadaisy (Pilot) Tickle Headcanons ||

A/N: I have ONLY seen the pilot as of now, so if any of these headcanons are ooc or even canon divergent, please be kind and take them with a grain of salt AND FOR THE LOVE OF GOD NO SPOILERS IN THE COMMENTS 🫣

---

Rocky

-- cheeky ler 😏

-- we all know he lives to cause mischief, and what's more mischievous than this?

-- LOVES TO TICKLE PEOPLE

-- the grin on their face and the boisterous laughter both warm him up inside

-- plus he's just a little jester who likes to play games

-- teases are his greatest weapon

-- uses EVERY tease under the sun, including ones i havent even heard yet lol; baby talk, compliments, teasing about how much you like it, he does it all

-- don't even bother holding your laughter inside, he'll take personal offence and won't rest until you've given in

-- "ohoho come now, sweetheart, be sensible. do you really think you can keep from laughing when we BOTH know how ticklish you are~"

-- "you devilish little rascal! you got the drop on me... for a few seconds, that is. no matter; all is forgiven, right after you've been taught a lesson in tomfoolery from THE tomfool himself!"

-- sporadic scribbling and random pokes are his favorite tickle techniques

-- likes to pin the lee's arms and legs to keep them from squirming away

-- tickles freckle the most; he knows his poor cousin needs it

-- while he may not show it outwardly, it saddens him to hear freckle sad or self-deprecative; in these circumstances, his intent is more to help freckle than it is to entertain himself

-- he has a bad habit of not knowing when to quit and can tickle his lee half to death, but he usually snaps out of it when he hears the lee become breathless

-- tickling ivy is both relatively difficult and easy; on the one hand, she enjoys a good tickle fight, but on the other, she is just as, if not more, competitive than rocky is

Ivy

- she's a crafty little ler

- she'll commit to a full bit just to dupe her lee into making themselves open to tickles

- her favorite lee is freckle obviously

- her sweet beau needs a chance to let loose once in a while, and doing that for him is her favorite job

- she's also incredibly competitive, as mentioned earlier

- good luck trying to take her down in a tickle war, because she will fight to the very last breath; and once she's won? oh hell on earth, it is going to tickle

- her preferred method is, you guessed it! Raspberries!

- rip freckle

- she loves them mostly because it's hard to take anything seriously when you're being tickled by random fart noises lol. it's goofy and silly and helps the lee to relax by bringing down their walls

- she IS ticklish and somewhat enjoys being tickled, but usually only by freckle

- if it's anyone else, you probably won't even get the chance to tickle her

- teases with baby talk, also for the sake of not taking it too seriously

- her primary motivation to tickle is to have fun and bond with her friends

- she and rocky sometimes have tickle wars that go on FOREVER, meanwhile freckle is blushing on the side, very conflicted on whether to help or not

Freckle

- 100% lee

- he's too shy to tickle anyone unless it's Ivy, and even then he's very very gentle

- is indifferent to being tickled; he doesn't actively like it, but he never tells the ler to stop, so he does choose to let it happen, and besides, he can admit it's nice to laugh hard once in a while

- again, doesn't actually dislike the sensation, but his imposter syndrome hates it when someone gives him any kind of affection bc he doesn't feel he's worth it

- which, of course, just makes his friends tickle him more

- rocky is his most common ler; he often tickles poor freckle to get him to admit something nice about himself (or rocky lol)

- "don't be bashful, my careful cousin! give us a smile~"; "it's very simple, freckle, just repeat after me, 'rocky is a dashing, debonair Robin Hood'"

- ivy tickles him because it burns her up to see him put himself down or worry, so she takes it upon herself to lighten his spirits

- while she does start playfully forceful, she never makes it impossible for him to escape. she sits very gently on his hips and scratches lightly enough to give him breath; even with all of those mercies, freckle still doesn't fight her, not really.

- however hard it is for him to accept it, getting tickled by his friends makes his feel supported and loved ❤️

- panics immediately at the first sign of mischief

- will try to talk the ler out of tickling them

- and when that inevitably fails, he will bolt

- "nononononononoNONONO!"

- actually just yelps "no" and "please" constantly, mostly out of reflex

- "please what, freckle?" "I DOHONT KNOW"

- his laugh is so contagious, full of heart belly laughs and bashful giggles

Mordecai

- HOOOOO BOY 😳

- ler

- idk if the comic displays him any differently but LOOK AT HIM

- an evil tickler

- touches you just softly enough to make it absolute torture

- uses maximum two fingers, teany tiny scritches

- the kind of ler to trail a claw from the base of your belly alllll the way up to the top 😖

- teases by reminding you constantly how utterly helpless and immobile you are, and his low, smooth voice makes it all the more unbearable

- watches you with his drilling eyes, making note of what places and what techniques wear you down the most

- most common lee would be his romantic partner (if he has one)

- I can't imagine what reason such a serious and somber man would have to tickle people, but I'll leave that up to you

- he is a little ticklish everywhere

- not ticklish enough to laugh, but enough to smile, which he'll fight as hard as he can

- most ticklish spot is his palms would you believe

- no one dares try to tickle him, they don't have a death wish

- even if they did try, they'd probably think he wasn't ticklish anyway

- serafine once tried to give him a quick tase to the side, but he doesn't laugh and she couldn't see his smile so she just assumed it didn't work. plus she got a death glare in response so that endeavor didn't last long

----

[autistickremylecroux]

Could I pls request a zora x reader eenmeies two loves :d

zor/reder work at ocena bliz and both try 2 bet teh othe with boutny, butt 1 da read gets rlly inryed,zora rlly worry and confesion

(sossy for spelign itz lik 3 amnr)

Bounty battle-Zora x gn!reader

Hi! Sorry for the week wait, my school has caught up to me quite badly. And dont worry about the spelling. I really enjoyed writing this ! it was a lot of fun

WC:1559

Warnings:Blood, surgery, mentions of needles.

“Howdy [name]~” you cursed internally, turning your head to glare at the women behind you. The same face which matched the top bounty. 110,000. Hardly even above yours. Zora laughed at your glare, a loud sharp chuckle. “Not too happy I see? shame you just can’t seem to—“ she stepped forward, getting a bit closer into your personal space, her voice dropping to mock condescension “—keep up” she pulled back, twirling her pistols, before firing a bullet which grazed past your ear.

You forced back an annoyed scowl, she always knew how to get on your nerves. And you were sure she was doing it on purpose to annoy you. To mess up your ‘game’. You forced yourself to sigh, before smirking. “Oh i can keep up, not too sure you’ll be able to though.” You watched as she paused, turning around and raising an eyebrow.

“challenge accepted.” She whistled, before disappearing off into the surrounding woods. Leaving you standing there, you turned back to the board. Staring at your poster , which had a bullet in line with your forehead. Your scowl returned, and you ripped the poster off of the wall and put it in your pocket. Before taking a marker out and reaching up to Zora’s poster.

[timeskip]

You walked past the same bounty board, turning to look at it. Your bounty was now at 120,000. Zora’s hadn’t changed. It was a bit of a disappointing jump after your latest job. It had been risky. Although, after the 100,000 mark it was noticeably more difficult to climb the ranks. You were willing to take the risk. You couldn’t let Zora out perform you.

You snatched the posters down, taking Zora’s as a motivation of sorts. You know , to motivate you to do better. Not any other reasons. You were planning to hand them to Zora as a taunt. Not because you knew Zora liked to keep and collect them as ‘achievements’. You continued back to your base, planning out more ways to ‘annoy’ Zora. You knew exactly what to do. There was a Banzai blaster base nearby, and you had one hell of a heist planned.

[timeskip]

leaves and twigs crushed under your feet, your limbs were heavy and you were losing blood. But you needed to keep going. You needed to reach them, the heist had gone horribly. Some of the Vice Presidents or whatever had been there, and you hadn’t expected them to be there. And by the time you had realised, you had been shot, it didn't do much but it had caused you to slip, falling backwards out of the window. It wasn’t a big fall, since it was only a first ground window. But the glass had hit your side rather seriously, and it had started bleeding.

You trudged through the forest, before you spotted a familiar figure, you couldn’t make it all out as your vision had begun to blur, you focused on getting one foot in front of the other. You managed to push yourself through the brambles, being closer to the figure you knew was Zora.

You watched as she temporarily stopped threatening the other one, all you could tell was they looked like a yellow blob. Probably a Banzai Blaster, but you couldn't tell as your vision got worse. The last thing you could see was Zora, suddenly start running towards you, yelling out something you couldn't make out. Before you promptly faceplanted into the forest floor.

Zora cursed, scooping your unconscious body into her arms, she turned to the Banzai Blaster she was trying to get. Before starting to run towards the nearest Bliss Ocean outpost. Leaving the Blaster confused on the floor.

She stopped after a bit,realising you were losing too much blood, temporarily setting you down and ripping off part of her beloved poncho— if it was to keep you alive it was worth it. And tied it around your waist tightly, desperately cursing under her breath as the adrenaline kept her going. She picked you up, and dashed off again. “you better stay above snakes [name] “

She eventually made it to the base, bursting open the door with her foot, everyone there instinctively shuffled out of the way, Zora when angry was something. And when it had to do with you? Twice as much. Everyone seemed to know except you how much she liked you, mostly due to some things she admitted while drunk. Or because of the glares she sent anyone trying to flirt with you.

At this point, even Naven had taken notice of it. Which said a lot. As sweet as he was, he could be a bit oblivious at times.

None of this mattered, as you were almost dying. Blood gushing from your arms, legs and waist, some was coming from your head too, which left your hair damp and sticky. She shook the thoughts from her head as she ran into the medical bay, practically yelling at the nurse. “OI! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE—“ she yelled,setting you down at the bed.

The healer rushed over, they were one of the few people in the organisation who had an epithet, mostly because it was useful having someone with a healing epithet. They started examining you, clearly worried. “what happened?” they said, grabbing some damp cloths to start applying it to the wounds.

“i dont fucking know i wasnt there for fuck sakes” she snapped, pacing back and forth. Before stopping and looking at you, “are they going to be okay?” she whispered , her voice becoming a lot quieter. Almost scared. Which was a first.

“yes but they’ll need emergency surgery— if you could wait outside it would be good” they said, tensing as they hoped Zora wouldn’t flip out. Seemingly their prayers were answered. As she silently left and slammed the door behind her.

Zora paced around for the next six hours outside the medical bay. She didn’t get anything to eat or drink,just waited and waited. When she heard the door open, she snapped her head around. “[name] will wake up in about an hour,they’ll need to rest for a bit”

Zora sighs in relief, practically pushing the medic out of the way to get into the room. She sat beside you,your arms, legs and waist were covered in bandages and yet you looked peaceful. There were needles in your arm, most likely giving you some nutrients to makeup for the lost blood.

She stayed silent for about half an hour, before softly grabbing your hand. There was so much she wanted to tell you, whether it was to yell and cry about how reckless you had been. Once she figured out what had happened of course. But she also wanted to wait and tell you everything would be ok.

As the clock ticked on, she started speaking. “you better wake up you coot” she snapped, while subconsciously rubbing the back of your hand. “I'll kill ya if ya dont” she adds, watching as you shuffled around but stayed asleep.

You felt yourself come to your senses,but you didn’t want to get up, you heard the voice. But kept silent, you knew who it was. But she was acting differently than usual. And you wanted to hear what she would say.

“you’re a right idiot. “ you heard her say, her accent making her clip some of the vowel sounds out slightly. “ya got y’rself hurt just to one up me” she laughed, and you wanted to bottle the sound and get drunk on it every night. But you still kept quiet. You wanted to see what she’d say.

“i’m not sure why I even bother to love ya.” your heart felt like it stopped as you heard her say those words, and you visibly tensed. Which she noticed clearly. “…” she stared at you, and you could feel her gaze even if you couldn’t see. “ [name] ?” you opened your eyes slowly, turning your head to look at her, your vision still wasn’t the best. And the light was bright enough to give you a headache “How long have you been listening” she continued, her tone dark as she seemed to be rather annoyed.

“a bit” you admit, humming. It was silent for a second, as both of you tried to think of what to say. You chuckled as you noticed her looking away. It was surprising to see the all cocky and confident Zora flustered and embarrassed. “it’s nice to know you love me” you added, mostly because your inhibition was reduced from the painkillers. “i mean, i thought it was a one…way thing” you added,your words slightly slurred as you started to close your eyes again. Falling back asleep.

People noticed Zora spending more time in the medical bay in the upcoming days. They also noticed she seemed happier than usual, and slightly less murdery. And they knew it had to do with you.

[bisexual-horror-fan]

"No Normal Person Would." The Game Master X Player! Reader.

Okay here it is! My first contribution to bloodfest! My week one fic is coming in under the wire, but I hope that is okay! So I watched The Odds (2018) a bit ago and decided that yeah I fucking love The Game Master (yeah we don’t learn his real name, how hot is that?) and when I saw the prompts for the first week of bloodfest I just had to! I hope you all enjoy! 

—

Rating. Explicit. Length. 5K. The Game Master x AFAB! Player! Reader. Warnings: Torture. Gore. Fucked Up Emotional Intimacy. Almost Drowning. Drilling. Cutting Off Fingers. Vaginal Sex. Cream Pie. Orgasm Denial. DUB CON! Vaginal Fingering. Gun Play. Just A Lot. Praise. Mild Degradation. Movie Canon Violence. 

—

You needed the money, like you really, really fucking needed the money. Normally you wouldn’t ever even dream of doing something like this but screw it, you were desperate, this money, if you did this right? It would fix all of your problems. To be fair, most normal people wouldn’t ever consider participating in a tiered torture competition without some serious motivation, and fuck if you weren’t motivated. You were in such a tight spot and when you’d heard this suggested, you thought it was a joke, you simply laughed and said, “God, if it was true I’d do it in a heartbeat.” 

And as it turns out, it isn’t a joke at all. You could actually do this. 

It took longer than a heartbeat for you to make the jump. But not that much longer. 

You looked into it, did the needed research and after some brief thought, fuck it, you agreed.

The idea is you will be brought to the location with a bag over your head, will be brought to a room, be one on one for as long as it takes with one other individual who will be your overseer for the competition, The Game Master. He is able to communicate with the other people who work for, whatever the fuck this company or organization, collective is. He will let you know when the appropriate people have dropped out of each round, once enough have abandoned the task, unable to take it, you are safe and advance to the next round. Fair enough for you. 

You show up to the place day of, the material obscuring your view is over your head, and before you know it after some travel, the bag is ripped off. You are seated in a chair, in a dull mostly concrete room, seated on a chair at a wooden table and across from him. 

He stands at six foot and two inches, very light blue dress shirt, slacks and a belt, a nice tie, dark hair that is well-kept, slight stubble on his face and brown eyes and tells you he needs to set up. You watch as he does, two cameras, an earpiece. He talks, there are nineteen other people all over the world playing, in other secretive locations, he goes into some of the finer details, but it doesn’t matter much, you are just more concerned with making it through, with winning. The most important detail is that if you leave before the end then you get zero from this, zilch, a massive fucking goose egg and that just will not do. 

You don’t know his name, you try to ask, and he tells you simply with a glance, his eyes firm, his tone leaving no room for argument, “No names.” He allegedly finds it better if you keep things less personal. Alright. 

Curiosity in this situation is natural, who the hell is this man, how did he get mixed up in this, how much is he getting paid to make you suffer for other's entertainment? How does one get the title of paid to professionally torture, anyway? What did it say about him? But to be fair, what did it say about you for accepting this in the first place?

If you make it to the final round, you aren’t allowed to leave, it’s either do or die, win or cease to be, and you were committed, sure you were going to win this. You had to be, had to convince yourself because if you didn’t, well…It’s not worth thinking about, there is no other option. 

You tried asking a few other probing questions, but he wasn’t giving up much. You still tried it, as if getting to know him better would make this easier, but he is kinda a cagey guy, an odd mix between professional and casual. You wonder if that is intentional to throw you off. 

All too soon, the first torture implement was brought out. 

A tall red wax candle is placed on the table in the space between you. 

It’s time to start soon, there is casual conversation to fill the space between you both, whoever is watching cannot hear you, he encourages you to tell him your secrets if you want, you aren’t running at the chance, however. 

His hand goes up to the earpiece, holds, he listens, and then a silver zippo lighter is brought out from his pocket with his opposite hand. He flicks it open, he lights it up, and the candle is burning in short order. 

The first round is simple. Hold your hand to the candle for as long as you can and try to outlast the other players, you just have to outlast three players, you do that, you make it to round two. 

He asks about your motivation, why you are here, it isn’t important, you just need the money, you saying that leads to him telling you, “I don’t think I could ever risk my life for a big pile of money.”

You suppose that difference in character is why you are on your side of the table, and he is on his. He might not risk his own life for money, but he seems very at ease and comfortable risking yours. 

He speaks, “Hey, listen. Look at me.” You do, and he speaks further, “I’m rooting for you. We’re in this together, you and me. You understand?” 

He tells you to relax, your eyes squint as he expounds that mental fortitude is important, that if you want to have any hope of winning you should keep that in mind. Some strange and small part of you wants to believe him, the doubt curling in your stomach tells you that you shouldn’t, for now, you listen to it. 

The first round begins. 

You’d done this before as a teen for kicks, who hasn’t? Taking a friend's lighter and seeing how long you can hold your hand to it before pulling away, that shouldn’t be too difficult, should it? 

You were stupid. Very stupid. Thirty seconds in, you realized that you were stupid as fuck. It hurts, it burns, obviously, the pain is steady and worsening every agonizing second, the palm of your hand is blistering. Your breathing is the first thing to change, to become more laboured, short gasping pants as you try to endure the hurt that was crawling up your arm. The sweat on your skin feels slick and oppressive, it’s running down your temple, you are biting your cheek, eyes squeezed shut as you try to hold in your pained sounds. C’mon focus, you can do this, you can fucking do this-

You don’t think you can, it’s awful, the smell is starting to hit you, terrible, acrid, burning flesh is not a pleasant oral factory experience, who would have thought? Mind awash with the dreadful physical terribleness that was overtaking every single part of you, one thing cuts through, his voice, “Let it out.” 

Eyes open with a gasp, sharp and short, he says, “It’s easier if you don’t hold it in”

Mouth opens and you do so, groans of pain accompany your fucked up breathing, your other hand is gripping the table's edge, nails bite into wood, and you say in a hoarse voice, “Fuck-fucking hurts-”

He cracks a small smile, stifles a laugh and says, “Yeah it’s supposed to, that’s the point-”

You let out a louder groan, a roll of your eyes as you say, “Not the time for jokes here!” 

“It’s not a good distraction?” He inquires, and you shake your head, your hand lets go of the edge of the table, it comes up and grips your wrist, fighting to keep your hand above the flame. Eyes are locked on that point, fixed on where bright white, yellow, orange bleeds and flickers, singeing your skin, and you swear that looking at it makes it worse, the pain more acute. You really don’t think you can keep going, and his voice is there again, “You can do this.” 

That tears your attention away and back to him, “One person is already out, you have this-”

“I can’t, I rea-lly don’t think-” He interrupts his hand on the table, near the base of the candle, ready to take it away, “Another dropped out, one more, come on-”

You can’t help it, you whimper and your eyes water, another minute, just try to last one more minute, and you focus on him, the words that are pouring out of his mouth, praise and encouragement, “You are doing so good, nearly there.”

At just the right time, finally, he says, “And the last one dropped out.” 

You both move at once, you snatch your hand away, and he tugs the candle back, and you laugh in relief. You hold your injured hand to your chest, a shaky exhalation your eyes slip close, holding your wrist still, trying to keep yourself steady, but it proves impossible. 

A few deep breaths, it still hurts but not as badly, your eyes open again, and you look down at your wound, you grimace, it looks really rough, looks about as bad as it hurts. 

You hear him moving, your eyes flick over, and you see him with a small case in his hands, he comes forward, one hand out, “May I?”

Eyes narrow, and you realize it’s a first aid kit, you concede, you nod and gets down on his knees next to you. He is adjusting his tie and your eyes are fixed on him as you are turning in your chair to face him better, you hold your hand out and let him take it. You watch as he works, cleaning you up, burn ointment and as he is carefully wrapping up the wound he says, “I told you that you could do it.” 

You suppose he did. He finishes up with the first aid, and you let yourself smile as you look at what a good job he did. Strange that he is well versed in both sides of this, you suppose it is in the interest of longevity, minor first aid between rounds to encourage the game to go on as long as possible. How many times has he done this? Is the other thought that permeates your mind due to the skill he displayed here. 

The question travels from your brain to your mouth and spills forth without thought, “How many times have you done this?”

He is packaging back up the first aid kit, a casual glance your way, his look is considering, and he finally says, “Fifteen times.” 

You want to ask how many have won, but you feel like he wouldn’t dignify that with a response. He blows out the candle, it’s taken away, and you ask, “So do you like this?”

The next look he gives is one of offence, not taking kindly to the idea that you think he likes watching people hurt themselves, “Really? You think I get off to this?” 

“Get off to, get off on, I’m not here to pass judgment.” You joke and you are met with silence. You pivot, “Why else would you do this?” 

“You’ve never done something you know wasn’t good for you?” The fact he asked this question in this current venue and situation is not lost upon you, as you sit in an uncomfortable wooden chair, in the stark, barren, concrete room alone with your tormentor you think that no, ultimately, this isn’t good for you.

The next round isn’t much better. Your shoes and socks are removed, he has a wooden box, a small space you have to twist to get your left foot into it, you ask what is the deal and there is an animal in there. You ask what animal, and he tells you it’s different every time, he legitimately doesn’t know. 

You hate this. You have to do it, though, you aren’t going to bitch out the second round in. Foot in the box, the divider is lifted and whatever it is before you know it is crawling all over you, this might be worse than the candle, if for nothing else than the not knowing what the hell was in there. It gets worse, whatever it is, starts biting, you gasp, hand grips the table's edge, and he helps, he takes your hand and you let him. 

He is right there, on his knee again, he’s looking in your eyes, comforting you, as you whine and babble through the pain and unconformability he finds the words that grounds you, that helps. 

“Do it for me.” 

You ask shakily, “Do-do it for you?” He nods, “Do it for me.” 

Nervously, the words are repeated, “Do it for you.” 

He encouraged and emboldens you, fingers laces, and he says, “Say it again.” 

“Do it for you.” It becomes a mantra, you let it fill your brain, you lose yourself in his eyes as you say over and over, “Do it for you. I’m doing it for you. Do it for you.” 

You don’t think about what is happening, you just think about how the words roll off your tongue, how his hand feels in yours and how shockingly this is endearing you to him. You are starting to feel more than just pain. You outlast the others, you make it through the round, the tears are a shock, you cry and on instinct you reach out, and he holds you, he lets you sob.

Eventually you stop. He dresses your wound again in the quiet. 

After that he offers you water, you take it gratefully, and you drink as you find yourselves locked in another conversation. Back in the chairs, he is sitting backwards on it, arms crossed, leaning on it like one of those “cool” teachers in an after school special. 

“You were clinging onto me pretty hard there.” He teases, and you pull the water bottle away, the back of your non-bandaged hand wipes over your mouth, and you say, “It was an intense experience.” 

“That orrrr has it been a while for you?” 

You laugh, nearly snort, “Yeah, I was just so desperate to be held, that’s it.” He hums, “Well, everyone needs some contact from time to time. Humans are social creatures.” 

“Who says I need that particular brand of socialization?” You bite out, and he says, “Oh, don’t tell me you don’t believe in love.”

You purse your lips, a casual shrug as you look away, and he says, “You don’t do you! A damn shame, you know, I could change that.” 

“What, are you asking me out?” You laugh, and he says, “More than that, why not just go all in? Indulge in the fantasy with me, let’s plan our life.” 

You have nothing else to do, this is oddly fun, it’s kinda strange but not unwelcome flirting with him, it's helping keep your mind off this fucked up situation, so you do as he asks, you indulge. “Sure okay, you tell me, what you think our life would be like.” 

“We could get married-” You cut in already, leaning in closer, “Married? First thing?”

Brows pinch together, eyes a little harder, but he is still smiling as he tells you, “I don’t do that cohabitation shit, you commit, you have to be all in.” 

A nod as you say, still grinning, “Okay, okay, all in, we get married.” 

“And we could do the whole family thing, have a house out in the suburbs, away from all this with your big pile of prize money, because you are going to win-” 

You listen as he talks more in depth, one foot comes up onto the chair, you hug your leg, chin resting on your knee as he outlines kids names, potential pets, the pros and cons of paint versus wallpaper. He knows what he wants. He’s really thought about this. It’s weird, but he is so enthusiastic, so unexpectedly charming that you play along, this is a good distraction if nothing else. 

“What do you say?” He asks, and you say, “Well if we are doing this shouldn’t you do this right?” 

“Right?” He asks, brows raised, and you say, “Actually ask me, you haven’t even asked yet.” 

A hand comes up, smacking himself in the forehead with a roll of his eyes, unmistakably playful, and you laugh again, “I am such a fucking idiot.” 

He gets up, he walks over to his bag, the first aid kit is gotten again, you wonder what the fuck he is doing, but you get your response soon. He is back over to you, on one knee again he asks, “Will you marry me?”

What a wild day this has turned out to be. You don’t know his name, and you don’t know his, in between fucked up rounds of torture, but you join in, you play it up, right hand up to your mouth as you commit to the bit, “Yes, oh my God, yes.” 

You both break down and laugh over how ridiculous this is. Your left hand is taken in his, and you see what he did, he got a small piece of gauze from the first aid kit, it’s tied around your left ring finger. You bring your hand up after he is done, admiring the small bow, he speaks, you look over at him, still on his knees, and he says, “A placeholder.”

“You’ll get me the real thing once we are outta here?”

“So long as you can wear it, of course.”

What the fuck does he mean by that?

The next round is the worst so far, your other foot is put into another box, there are screws, he has a power drill and fuck this is going to suck.

How many times is he going to get on his knees for you today, Goddammit?

Your heart is racing, you are clenching your firsts so hard that the makeshift ring on your finger hurts. He pulls you out of your thoughts once again, “I’m sorry.”

He apologized to you before hurting you, what a gentleman, you muse before the first screw is driven in. It’s a lot to handle. You are delicious, woozy, the round is a blur, it goes by too fast and too slow all at once, and the removing of the screws was much worse than them being put in. You made it through. 

After more first aid he slips you some pain medication, he isn’t supposed to, but you take it subtly, a quiet and sincere thank you is given. 

You and he sit down on the ground, you talk, you lie together as if in the grass and cloud watching. You tell him you don't know if the suburbs are for you, maybe you’d like to go live in the country and shockingly, he bends. “You give up your white picket fence dream just like that?” 

You ask with a snap of your fingers, and he looks from your face back up to the ceiling, he shrugs and sighs out, “What can I say? I’m a fool in love. I just want to make you happy.” 

What a hopeless romantic. You hold his hand in your uninjured one and enjoy the compatible and comfortable silence. 

Before the fourth round, he makes you tell him you love him. He sees how nervous you are, and he insists, “If you say it, you’ll feel better, you’ll trust me more. If we love each other, you know for a fact you’ll make it through, that I won’t hurt you.”

“You have already hurt me.” You say, and he scoffs, “Because I have to. Again, I don’t want to do this.”

Sure. 

The words tumble out because what else are you meant to do? “I love you.” 

“There you go.” He plays with your hair and pointedly doesn’t say it back, a finger curling a lock around the digit before he pulls away, and the round has to start. You could laugh.

You almost drown. There is a fish tank, and he holds your head down into it, a hand on the back of your neck, the other arm wraps around your waist, he holds you and your life in his hands. You are completely out of it, you can’t hear anything, and you almost black out, because of this you can’t feel the kiss he presses to the back of your bare shoulder, nor hear the sweet nothing's he whispers to you. 

He gives you a towel to dry your hair after, your shirt is soaked and clingy, and you think that is how the conversation turns to sex. The question is abrupt, “How old were you when you lost your virginity?” 

He is so close again, he always wants to be close to you, encroach on your personal space, and you aren’t exactly shying away from him. “Why do you want to know that, exactly?”

“Just doing what we have been all afternoon, making conversation, filling the space between screams.” He says with a grin that is a little too easy and comfortable. He reaches out, a hand meets the soft skin of your shoulder, thumb rubs over, and it doesn’t linger on such an innocent spot for long, the backs of his knuckles brush down lower and traces over the curve of your breast. Eyes go wide and his gets bolder, he grips, cups you, and you gasp, body jerking back.

“Woah! What are you doing?” 

He laughs, “Oh come on, you want this, you’ve been flirting and staring all day-” He isn’t wrong, but you were doing it for a distraction, to fill the space, smooth things out and hopefully make him go easier on you perhaps he is right, maybe there is more to this, maybe you actually do want this. He isn’t done talking, “You can leave at anytime, you know that, but we also both know that you won’t go.”

“I won't?” You ask quietly, and he leans in closer, his hand meets your cheek, he tilts your head just so, “Because you know you belong here, you deserve this.” 

Do you? He isn’t done, he’s closer still, and he says, “Your whole life has been one long lonely path that has led you to me.” He leans in, and he kisses you and fuck it, you return it. 

You figure, why not? Why can’t this happen? You are stressed as all hell and in a decent amount of pain from the injuries you sustained, maybe this could give you an edge, the pain meds he slipped you helped, but does anything relive pain quite like a good orgasm? 

Breaking apart and in between heated presses of your lips together, he tells you, “I fucking knew it, I knew this wasn’t bullshit, knew you were actually into me.” 

Guy is just a tad cocky, but you aren’t exactly pushing him away, you lean closer, kiss deeper and upon the next parting of your mouths he says, “You wanna go further?”

“How much further?” You inquire and he says, “Depends. Do you want to make love one last time as a whole person?”

It doesn’t take a genius to put together what he means, the next round is going to involve you removing some part of yourself, that is terrifying. You want to lose yourself in him, you agree, a weak moan into his mouth, “Yes please-”

That is how you find yourself now. Your tank top pulled up, bra pulled down, jeans crumpled on the ground and your panties hanging off one ankle, he’s removed his tie, and he is tying it around your wrists. “Any particular reason for this?”

“Just to make sure you don’t try anything funny.” He hums, a finger slides under the substitute for restraints, and he tugs, you nod to confirm that it is not too tight. Soon his own pants are down, shirt is unbuttoned and when he slides home, hands on your thighs you groan, eyes rolling back. You wish you knew his name, so you had something to moan that was more intelligible. 

The lack of foreplay was no issue, you were embarrassingly wet from all the build up and closeness this afternoon, something he called you on, and you couldn’t even defend, instead laughing with a far too fond, “Shut up.” 

“No.” 

It was too intimate, he barely knew you, proposal and torture or not, he is touching you, feeling you, holding himself to you, hands on your hips, his chest to yours, close and familiar, as if he knew you, like really knew you for years worth of time. He acted in this way as if he could name your first crush when you were a kid and as if he knew your opinions on what was better, cake or pie and as if he knew your deepest intimate thoughts and feelings on what was the best musical that got robbed at the fucking Tony’s.

It isn’t all sweetness, all brushes of his hands over your curves or purposeful rolls of your hips where his pelvis grinds into you just so, it’s rough too. Moments where fingers hook in woven silk that used to be secured around his neck with a double Windsor knot and using that point of contact to pull you closer, fuck you deeper. Soft cupping of tender flesh turns into pinches, sharp slaps as your moans bleed to a sound that is more pained, to gasps and calls for a hint of mercy he refuses to provide. 

He speaks, buried deep inside and with his lips caressing yours he tells you all manner of delight and filth, from things along the lines of, “I want to keep you-” to “Your cunt is fucking strangling me-”

It makes your head spin. You are completely taken in by the moment and in being so caught up, moving with him, returning the sentiments, you find your voice, and you beg, “Keep me, let me be yours, don’t let us end tonight-”

That does something to him, pace picks up, nails bite into your hips, you arch and rock forward, meet him in the middle, and you watch it happen, head tipping back, a thick swallow, a flex of his cock inside your swollen walls and a bob of his Adams apple and his rhythm stutters. He holds deep, and he cums inside without asking, you moan as he does, in pleasure and in loss, he came before you could, eyes slipping closed as you resign yourself to your current fate, whatever it may be with him.

It’s silent, save for you both catching your breath. He tells you on an exhalation, “I will make it up to you.”

He pulls out, cum spills from your well fucked hole, and you are left heaving on the table as he pulls away, he is straightening up his clothing and the attendant comes in, bringing in the items for the next round. Said attendant doesn’t even look at you, as if this is normal. 

He tells you he will make it up to you. While you are heaving on the table, leaking cum, he is straightening out his clothing, the items for the next round are brought in. The guy who brings them in doesn’t look at you, as if this is regular. The attendant leaves. 

You get up on shaky legs, you start redressing slowly now that he has taken his tie back, he pulls out the items from a bag, and he explains what is expected.

“You are meant to cut off notches of your fingers on your left hand, once knuckles worth on each pass.” You nod, listening as your jeans are buttoned up, the leftovers of his cum are messing up your panties. You pull your tank top back down as you plop into the chair, you’d still been listening to him all the while, and he leans in, a hand on your arm, he kisses your sweaty hairline and asks, “You understand sweetheart?”

You nod along, and he leans down, he whispers that he fully intends to finish the job if you win the game. 

You figure it’s extra incentive if nothing else. 

Your left hand will never be the same, you lose two whole fingers. He asks to keep your pinkie and ring finger, mutilated beyond belief in the glass jaw you deposited the pieces in, and you laugh with a disgusted shake of your head. You affectionately call him a freak, and he preens under the name as if you called him handsome. 

Eyes are locked on the jar, the small makeshift ring is in there, the gauze looks bloody and almost unrecognizable amongst your ruined flesh and bone. 

The game goes on.

By the time it is done, the gun is on the table, you are alive, you did it, you won. Your feet are fucked, you nearly drowned, both hands bandaged, one from the burns and the other from cutting off several bits of your own fingers, but you don’t care, he’s making it better. 

His hands are very much intact, he has two fingers buried inside of you and his mouth on your neck, he’s saying the sweetest things, he’s praising you, telling you how wonderful you are, how well you did, he is building you up and finally with an arch and a cry? At long fucking last, through the haze of pain you cum, practically sobbing. 

You entered the arena alone, but you aren’t leaving it that way, he is inside you, buried in you like a tumour, terminal, malignant, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

You won, you totally fucking won. 

[little-diable]

Crimson River - Tyler Owens (smut)

This came to me while overthinking a situation I'm currently stuck in lol. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader and Tyler have been chatting online for months, and now it's time for them to finally meet in real life. Porn with some plot

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, some spitting, full on fluff

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem!reader (2.5k words)

“So, when will I get to share these songs with you face to face?” Her thumbs were hovering over her keyboard, eyes flickering from his text to her calendar. (Y/n)’s heart was pounding, beating in her chest while her teeth tugged on her lower lip.

It could be easy, too easy almost. 

“How’s the weekend looking for you, you busy tornado wrangler?” Heat shot to her cheeks, leaving her to burn up while putting down her phone. This was crazy, and yet she couldn’t find it in herself to back down, not when she could finally meet him.

Him, the guy she had been texting for months now.

Him, the guy she had first bonded over music with, sharing a similar taste. 

Him, the guy whose every storm chasing stream she had watched ever since he had shared more about himself with her. 

“If it means I get to see you, I’ll hold it free, sweetheart.” A chuckle broke out of her. (Y/n) deeply exhaled before shaking her head at her screen. This was crazy, but the best kind of crazy, something she desperately needed to rip herself out of her daily routine. 

“Count me in, I’ll book my flights now.”

……

Her thoughts were racing, just like her heart. (Y/n) moved with the big crowd, knowing that she was about to step out into the arrivals hall, where he was already waiting for her. She was unable to shake the heat sticking to her, still not fully realising that she was about to cross paths with the man she had been in touch with for months without ever meeting him. 

And then she instantly saw him, eyes drawn to him like a moth to a flame, a gravitational field that left her buzzing in excitement. His strong arms found their way around her, pressing (y/n) against him while she sank into the hug. 

“I can’t believe you’re finally here.” With a kiss pressed to her temple, Tyler let go of her to reach for her bag. She could only smile up at him, taking in the handsome face she had seen on her screen too many times to count.

“Thank you for picking me up.” (Y/n) tried to rip her gaze from him, eyes set on the crowd he directed her through with one hand placed on her lower back. Her mind picked apart every little detail, their height difference, the scent of his cologne she’d probably never forget again, the way his warm hand felt pressed against her back. All of it left her buzzing, tingling in excitement. 

Only as she found herself sitting in his truck did she allow herself to relax and breathe. Tyler had instantly managed to lure her into a conversation, making her feel as if they had met up numerous times before today. And yet (y/n) still struggled to realise that this was really happening, that she was so close to the handsome man she had fostered a crush on for quite some time now. 

“I thought tonight we could go for something slow, maybe watch a movie? And tomorrow you’ll get to meet the crew.” He shot her one of his signature smiles, hand finding her thigh for a second. The touch felt intimate, shooting heat straight to the spot while her mind hyper fixated on the way electricity kept pushing through her as if lighting kept hitting her over and over again. 

“That sounds perfect, thank you.” She could already tell that a weekend was not nearly enough, parting again would hurt more than she could even imagine at that very moment. 

……

The screen of his TV kept flickering on, casting shadows in the spacey living room. It had been a while since they had arrived at his place. Both had opted for some downtime first before they’d get to cooking and sharing a meal. Even though she was slowly adjusting to being around Tyler, it still felt somewhat surreal, like a dream she’d be ripped from too soon.

“Hey, are you okay?” She had her feet pressed against his thigh, eyes flickering to them as Tyler softly squeezed her skin. The touch made her sink further into the couch, hoping that the way he made her feel wasn’t all that obvious to Tyler. But the smirk slowly tugging on his lips told her that he was all too aware of the way she struggled to hold it together, unable to speak much. 

Only a hum broke through (y/n), a sound that turned into a quiet gasp the second he tugged on her feet to place her legs over his thighs. One of his hands found space between her knees, grabbing her flesh while the other settled on top. 

How in God's name was she supposed to survive this? 

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” Tyler stopped the movie without taking his eyes off her features. She couldn’t help but wonder how he was already able to read her that well, how he managed to pick up on micro expressions even her closest friends would most likely miss. 

“It’s just surreal, all of this, finally talking to you and being close to you. I knew we’d get along well, but,” the rest of her sentence was lost in the quietness of the room. Tyler’s thumb stroked along the fabric of her trousers, patiently watching her.

“But this is different.” He finally managed to finish her sentence, unable to bite down the smile both couldn’t shake now. “I know what you mean, I was hoping it’d work that well like it does when we text, but this is so much better.” 

Another hum left (y/n), she pulled her legs from his grasp to shift around, finding confidence in the way he had just expressed what she had also been feeling. Slowly, carefully almost, (y/n) placed her head against his chest, instantly pulled closer by the arm finding its way around her. Tyler pressed a kiss to her hairline before he started the movie again, unable to see the bright smile she now wore, perfectly matching his.

……

(Y/n)’s legs were dangling off the kitchen counter, eyes following Tyler around as he cooked for them. Music was filling the kitchen, playing a playlist both had crafted over the past months, their own personal blend. Ever since their moment on the couch, both had been unable to shake their smiles, hearts racing in sync. 

“Here, do you like that?” Tyler found himself settling between her thighs, looking at her while pushing the spoon past her parted lips. The moment had something awfully intimate to it, pushing heat through both of them. (Y/n) could only nod her head, not noticing how her legs had loosely found their way around his thighs, keeping him close.

Tyler’s thumb found her mouth, brushing away a bit of sauce clinging to her skin, a touch that made her breath hitch in her chest. She kept looking at him, getting lost in the piercing eyes that had seen more tragic glimpses of this life than (y/n) could ever imagine, and yet they were filled with a burning longing. 

For a few more seconds they kept holding eye contact, torn apart by his phone timer going off. Tyler had to clear his throat before he could focus on finishing dinner, trying not to pay her intense gaze any of his attention. He knew all too well that he was close to snapping, close to crossing the last line between them to press his lips against hers.

But as much as Tyler wanted to kiss her, to taste her like he had done numerous times in his dreams, he knew that he should take things slow. He didn’t want to push things too far on their first night together, all Tyler was focused on was seeing her comfortable and happy.

“We could eat outside if you want, stars should be out by now.” Her heart was close to jumping out of her chest, freed by the heat his words made her feel. Months ago he had shared a picture of the starry sky he was fortunate enough to look at whenever he was home, a sight that had left her to confess that she desperately wanted to see them too.  

“Thank you, Tyler.” (Y/n)’s words carried more meaning than he picked up on, not seeing through the adoration swimming in her pupils. 

……

“Tyler.” (Y/n) mumbled his name, eyes set on his features. They were still sitting on the bench outside his home, sharing a blanket to keep them shielded from the cold night. His eyes flickered down to meet hers, patiently waiting for her to keep on speaking. “Will you finally kiss me?”

Her words drew a loud laugh from him, he shook his head at (y/n) who could only grin up at him. Tyler’s hand found her cheek, wordlessly asking her to keep on looking at him while his eyes wandered over her features, “And here I was trying to be a gentleman.”

(Y/n)’s reply was lost on the tip of her tongue as he dipped his head down. Tyler’s lips ghosted over her’s, drawing a soft whine out of (y/n) as he kept a small distance between them. Only as her hand found his jacket, tugging on the fabric to pull him closer, did he properly kiss her. 

The kiss shot shudders down her spine, making hairs rise on her forearms while shuffling closer. Within moments she found herself straddling his lap, front pressed against his to cross any distance still lingering between them like two lonely ships crossing the sea to find back to one another, guided by nothing but their need to be close. 

Their lips moved perfectly together, the kiss wasn't rushed, but it was fuelled by their longing which had grown stronger over the past months. Tyler’s hands settled on her waist, fingers toying with the hemline of her sweater, set on feeling her warm skin pressed against his. For a moment they broke apart, grasping onto new air to fill their burning lungs. 

“Stop me anytime you want, sweetheart.” (Y/n) searched his lips again, not giving Tyler a chance to speak another word while his hands found her burning up skin. Her wandering fingers found his hairs, brushing through them to draw a moan from Tyler, a sound that vibrated on her lips and through her whole body. 

He didn’t speak a warning as he suddenly stood up, holding onto (y/n) to carry her back inside. With her arms wrapped around his neck and her legs around his waist, she let him carry her inside and towards his bedroom. Both were heavily breathing after pulling apart, chests rising and falling while chuckles broke out of them.

(Y/n) let him pull her sweater over her head, exposing her bra to his wandering eyes. The groan rumbling through Tyler made her grin, letting her hands reach for his belt loops to pull him closer, expertedly undoing his belt, “I know we should take this slow, but I really need you to fuck me now after all these months.”

“You’re killing me, sweetheart.” Their eyes held contact as she freed his hardening cock, letting his trousers drop to the ground. Tyler’s moans spurred her on, allowing her to marvel at the handsome man while pumping his length a few times. But Tyler didn’t have the patience to drag this out long enough, he gave her a push back, tugged her trousers and panties down her legs while (y/n) undid her bra. “You’re the prettiest sight, fuck, I’m the luckiest man.”

“Says you, I mean look at you.” She could only stare at him as the rest of his clothing was dropped, exposing his abs and his muscular chest – all while his fingers began to wander up her legs. He pressed kisses to her soft skin, sucking on her flesh as his fingertips ghosted over her warm folds, feeling her arousal already sticking to her skin. 

Tyler kept his gaze on her features as he spat down on her heat, spreading his saliva on her warm skin. He circled her pulsing bundle a few times to draw soft moans from (y/n), needing to hear them as if they were his favourite drug, high on her sounds. For a second, he parted from her to find a condom, to roll it down his cock, and to brush his tip through her folds. 

“Look at me, sweetheart.” (Y/n) looked up at Tyler, feeling herself getting choked up from the way he looked at her. Something she’d only be able to describe as love swam in his pupils – a love so intense it only grew stronger as he pushed into her. Her eyes instantly fluttered shut at the sensation, fingernails scratching at his skin, walls fluttering around him. Tyler held still for a second, giving her time to adjust before he dipped his head down to kiss her.

Their bodies met with every thrust, allowing (y/n) to feel him deep inside of her, stretching her with every move. With every contact even more sinful sounds began to claw through them, reverberating through his bedroom like a song woven together from shared experiences and unspoken longings. 

“You feel so good, fuck, Tyler.” Her words left him chuckling, he kissed his way down her throat, finding the spots that made her arch her back while she tightened the grasp of her legs around his waist. Tyler was fully focused on making her cum first, needing to watch her fall over the edge while knowing that he was the reason for the sweet sensation she was about to get tangled up in. 

“Touch yourself, sweetheart, make yourself cum on my cock.” Tyler’s voice grew raspier and lower with every syllable he spoke. Both were staring at one another, wordlessly telling them that they were ready to let go any moment now. Her fingers moved fast, giving herself the needed push with his name bleeding from her lips.

Tyler found himself falling in love with (y/n) some more as she came, eyes taking in every inch of her pleasure drunken features. He gave it a few more thrusts before he came, letting go with a groan while (y/n) kept clinging to him. 

“Christ, you’re perfect.” He pressed another kiss to her lips before pulling out. And at that moment, Tyler knew that he’d have to confess his feelings soon. Not tonight, perhaps not tomorrow morning, but the love bleeding from the tip of his tongue like a crimson river would pave the way for their following time together soon enough.

[sillylittlelemon]

Hey could I ask for a match up with someone from Saiki? If you are going to do any romantic matchups, I’d prefer men. I go by he/him.

There’s not much to say appearance wise other than I am chubby, I have piercings, and I wear glasses. Most of my styles happen to be more comfortable stuff, such as sweater vests and hoodies. I have a lot more softer features, softer cheeks, hands, the like. I also have a serious case of resting bitch face.

I am very much the type of person to stay in their own lane. However as described by some people, when I get passionate, oh dear do I get passionate. I can be a bit standoffish to many people, with many assuming that I am a very calculated type of person, and intimidating. I do a lot of personal writing and meditation, however my favorite hobby is cooking and baking. I love making sweets for my family like scones and crème brûlée, though I usually just end up eating them alone. I also just cook regular stuff as well.

My dude. I am so pumped to write this. Like- i feel like theres many ways i could swing this and im gunna have a hard time to narrow this down but im just ready to go man, like- you threw me a metorphorical bone and im ready to rip into this thing lmao

- 🤥🤥not related but can you make coffee jelly?

Saiki would take a shining to you based off your cooking, obviously. And when you make him coffee jelly for literally any occasion even if there isnt one? BOOM. Marriage papers. "For convience" 😉😉

Def just... watches you make stuff. Blank stare. Seemingly not a thought behind his eyes. He just stands there, out of the way. Uses telekenisis to get you what you need so you dont have to move around obsticles in the kitchen to get it (or risk dropping something or tripping bc im fucking clumsy and i dunno about you but ive tripped with flour and wooooo boy its rough) along with that he def helps you clean if you consider it a drag (of course you do, who actually enjoys cleaning the kitchen?) And by help i 100% mean he does it allfor you absent mindedly while he chows down on his sweets, little stars floating around his head as he enters paradise.

Also can def get down on some meditation w you, like- all this boy wants is peace and quiet. He will stil down or lay down, or however it works for you, and just... zen out. For as long as possible until nendo uses his 6th sense to track him down and drag him into shenanigans. (Or until a rock causes a girl to trip which causes a motercycle crash and a gasoline explosion and then destroys part or all of town and-)

N-E-Ways,

Im just pumping out headcanons/oneshots as fast as ican while im motivated so if you want more tell me! Send the link to this request along with your new one so i know which anon you are, okay lovely?

🫂🫂🫂❤️❤️❤️thanks for the ask, i love you!

Also i know its ooc but also im listening to this song and it lowkey tickles my brain with this character

[lythea-creation]

Broken Toys - Johanna Mason x fem reader (Chapter 18)

Chapter 1

Previous Chapter

word count: 2.702

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

I had to be dreaming. They were finally rescuing Johanna?!

“Where are they?”, Katniss asked.

“Behind the curtains, sleeping out their sedatives. That was a nice shoot. Three broken victors and Boggs alone with the task to organize the rescue mission.”

“If Boggs deals with it, it should be fine”, Katniss stated.

“Oh, yeah. He has everything under control. They asked for volunteers, but he missed my raised hand to be on the safe side”, Haymitch recalled.

They kept talking, but I could not catch what they were talking about. About the person who volunteered first.

My mind was going crazy at the thought of Johanna's rescue. Before I knew it, I was standing on wobbly feet next to Haymitch.

“Where's Boggs? He has to take me with him”, I told him.

“Woah, kitten! Calm down! They already left. So, no chance.”

“You have to be kidding! There has to be a way!”, I pleaded him.

“Yeah! We can't just stay here and wait!”, Katniss agreed.

Haymitch promised us to talk to Heavensbee and left.

Actually Haymitch had wanted us to sit or lay down, but of course we did not listen. Instead we moved over to Finnick and woke him up. It was cruel to rip him out of the blurry world of the sedatives, but we were all in this together.

We explained the situation to him and his anxiety seemed to decrease a bit.

“Don't you understand? Now everything will end. Either way. Tonight they're either with us or dead. That's … that's more than we could've hoped for”, Finnick clarified.

He was right. It was kind of comforting to imagine that Johanna's torture at the Capitol would end. But I could not bear losing her, too. Though it would not be surprising when you considered that the people closest to me were the ones getting taken from me by the Capitol first.

Suddenly the curtain toward Finnick's bed was moved to the side.

“If you three get a hold of yourself, I have a task for you. We still need the video clips of district 13 after the bombing. If we get that in a few hours, Beetee can possibly use it to distract the Capitol. We need something that is so thrilling that it will capture the people, that even President Snow himself can't take his eyes off the screen”, Haymitch declared.

I had never experienced Katniss talking about her private life before, but now she did it. We were all motivated by the thought of getting our loved ones back.

She is talking about her relationship with Peeta honestly. Then the topic changed. “President Snow once admitted that the Capitol was wobbly. Back then I didn't know what he meant. I couldn't think clearly because I've been so afraid. Now I'm not afraid anymore. The Capitol is wobbly because it depends on the districts. Food, energy, even the peacekeepers, who suppress us. If we announce our freedom, the Capitol will break down. President Snow, thanks to you I'm finally able to announce my freedom today.” Katniss' speech apparently inspired Heavensbee.

“Finnick, you have a lot of secrets about the Capitol, don't you? You should spill them now and tell everyone how Snow actually treats his victors.”

All the color faded from Finnick's face.

“I could tell them about Johanna's and my relationship. That we actually fooled them all, including Snow, because he wanted to force me into prostitution and that one year later Rue was reaped.”

The others looked at me in shock. They had not known.

“It was an act?”, Heavensbee questioned.

“No way!”, Finnick interjected. “At least not for Johanna. She has never treated anyone like you, right from the beginning. Everything she did was to get closer to you without risking to get hurt.”

Was he serious? That could not be true. That Johanna had suggested to fake a relationship with me because she had wanted to be with me for real. This had to be a sick joke!

But Finnick looked completely serious. Had she actually done everything due to her feelings for me and not to get revenge? I could not even imagine it.

The thought hurt. I even 'broke up' with her. Now I felt like a complete idiot.

“Hey, you alright?”, Haymitch asked, knowing that I was not.

I shook my head, suddenly feeling wobbly on my feet again.

Finnick was the one I knew as the closest one to Johanna, except me. Apparently he knew her even better than I did. Though I could not be sure if his assumption was right. After all we were talking about Johanna. She was unpredictable.

Despite everything going crazy, Haymitch's embrace made me feel safe for a moment. It reminded me of the hugs my dad had given me years ago, when he had still been alive. I did not want to let go.

“I will tell it if it helps”, I mumbled.

“Yeah. I will talk to”, Finnick agreed.

Haymitch let go of me and we approached the camera.

“You don't have to”, he reassured us.

“Yes. If it helps her”, Finnick and I replied simultaneously, smiling at each other for thinking the same. We had also become really close friends.

After finishing the video clips, I spent the rest of the time training shooting. I had gotten extremely skilled at it in a short amount of time. Zianne called me a natural.

At three pm. Finnick, Katniss and I were standing in a room full of monitors watching as Beetee managed to show a lot of our videos in the Capitol.

After more than an hour Beetee leaned back and sighed. “That's it. If they're not out yet, they're all dead.”

He waited for a reaction from us fruitlessly. We knew that we needed a lot of luck. That the chances were not great.

May the odds be ever in your favor. The irony was taunting. As if a victor of the games could be considered lucky.

Finnick, Katniss and I retreated to another room, declining dinner after no lunch.

Sitting around, sometimes talking, tying knots, trying not to freak out, not to break even more. It had to be past midnight when Haymitch finally opened the door.

“They are back. We are needed in the infirmary”, he announced.

Katniss opened her mouth to ask something, but Haymitch was faster: “I don't know more.”

Katniss and I started running, but stopped when we noticed Finnick's frozen state. So we both took one of his hands and pulled him with us. Though it did not work for a long time as I let go as soon as I saw Johanna.

My heart hurt at her sight. She was unconscious, emaciated and her hair had been shaved off. Her whole body was covered in bruises and purulent wounds.

The pain I felt was so overwhelming that I was feeling sick, like I would break down any moment.

Nevertheless I ran after the paramedics who were moving her stretcher.

In the background I heard Annie's voice calling out Finnick's name, but I could not feel happy right now. I had imagined so many horrible scenarios considering Johanna's state, but I could not take it all becoming reality anymore. I had to be stuck in an endless nightmare.

I was not even sure if I should rather wish her to be dead. At least she would not have to suffer anymore. It was selfish to wish to get her back.

The door closed behind Johanna and I could not open it.

Now I crumbled, broke down against the wall next to the door. I pulled my knees toward my chest, buried my face in them and shut out every noise with my hands.

Sanity. Was that anything I could still lose? Or had I already lost that as well?

I was either rocking back and forth to soothe myself or it just felt like everything around me was spinning.

Waiting helplessly was worst. I knew I could not do anything.

If I had not been so unsettled, I would have screamed when two arms pulled me onto a lap into a comforting hug. I did not have to open my eyes to know that it was Mary.

It usually made me feel vulnerable and weak when others comforted me, although I needed it. But right now it was actually true. I was vulnerable and weak and it was not anything I should be ashamed of with everything going on. I was too hurt and exhausted to even consider resisting.

Mary stayed and waited with me in silence.

More hours passed until the door finally opened again.

I immediately jumped up and stopped the paramedics from leaving. “How's she doing?”

“Her life isn't in danger anymore, but she's far from healed. You can visit her now if you want to. But only one person at once.”

I nodded thankfully.

Why was I still feeling so incredibly anxious? Should it not get better as she was safe now?

But when I sat down on the chair next to her bed seeing her broken form, I knew why I was still feeling miserable. It was not over. Nothing was over at all. The final battle had not even begun and yet I had lost so much already. And I did not even know what state Johanna was in emotionally and mentally.

Furthermore, I had no clue how she was feeling and thinking about our 'relationship'. Maybe Finnick had interpreted her behavior wrong.

But at least we had gotten her out of Snow's grasp.

After more hours of waiting, with paramedics entering and leaving the room from time to time, Johanna finally opened her eyes.

She pulled her hand out of mine, slowly coming back to her senses.

“Jo? You're in district 13. We finally managed to rescue you from the Capitol”, I explained softly.

She looked confused and irritated. “Prove it”, she mumbled with a hoarse voice.

Her eyes mirrored her inner pain and exhaustion.

“You always put on your pants before your socks. You pretend to like your coffee black, though you secretly pour two tablespoons of sugar into it. Despite complaining about romantic stuff, you enjoy watching sunsets and to look at the stars. When you lay your arm around me, you always make sure that I'm comfortable with it before touching me, so you won't startle me.”

I recounted more and more of her habits that I had noticed during our time together. I had not even realized that I knew all of that about her before.

Johanna listened curiously without interrupting me. “I didn't know you observed me so carefully”, she stated when I had finished.

“Me neither”, I mumbled.

Our eyes met and I could not restrain myself anymore. I put everything I felt for her into one kiss.

When we parted she grinned at me, although her bruises tainted her confident image.

“If I had known that you would welcome me so passionately, then I would have thought about returning from the Capitol more often”, she joked.

“You're the worst”, I shot back. “And a complete idiot. How could you dare to tell me to protect Katniss and then let yourself getting caught?”

“Katniss, Finnick and you ended up safe. So it worked out pretty well”, she shrugged it off.

“No! Definitely not. Should I get you a mirror?”

Johanna rolled her eyes. “I don't even feel a lot of pain”, she resonated.

“Because of the morphling”, I enlightened her.

Her eyes moved over to the liquid. “Then it's life-saving”, she claimed chuckling.

How could she just act like her usual self?

“Don't you trust me?”, I questioned.

“Woah! Where did that question suddenly come from?”, Johanna exclaimed surprised.

“That's not an answer”, I replied impatiently.

“Yeah, I guess I do kinda trust you”, she admitted reluctantly.

“Then why are you lying to me?”, I wondered.

“What the hell are you even talking about? I'm starting to get a headache from your interrogation”, she snapped at me.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel worse”, I apologized and pulled my knees toward my chest.

Johanna let out a frustrated sigh. “No! Okay, okay. I'm not fine, but don't wanna talk about it. At least not right now. Alright?”

I nodded with a small smile and moved to take her hand again. I could have sworn that Johanna smiled at that, but it had vanished too quickly for me to be sure.

“Jo?”

“Hm?”

“I'm sorry for breaking up with you after everything you've done for me. That was a shitty move.”

“No need to apologize for ruining something that never existed to begin with, right?”, she mumbled back.

“But our relationship did exist. I really enjoy spending time with you. I did all the time. Back then I just didn't want to burden you anymore”, I confessed.

“Well … I guess you could've talked to me?”, she replied with a scowl.

“Yeah, I should have. But ...”

“But what?”

“I dunno what is true anymore. Which words and actions you really mean and what you do because of the act, because you're used to it now. I'm not here out of pity or guilt, Johanna. I'm here because you made me fall in love with you.

The more time I spend with you the more I want to be with you. No matter how often I tell myself that it's just an act, because it is not. Not to me.

Every kiss makes my heart flutter. Your grin makes me happy. You holding me makes me feel safe. Without you I would have fallen apart long ago and now that I've realized what I feel for you, I can't go back. I denied my feelings for you, fearing you reaction, fearing losing you. But I can't take it anymore.”

Tears were blurring my vision making it hard for me to figure Johanna's expression out.

What was I even doing? She had just barely survived weeks of torture and I did not have anything better to do than to pressure her with my confession? That was not fair.

How was she supposed to react now? Though it was not like Johanna usually hesitated to share her honest opinion.

Long silence filled the room, until the door opened revealing a paramedic. To my surprise Johanna threw her pillow at him and snapped: “Sorry, but could you please get the fuck out of here?! We have to settle something!”

The paramedic actually fled without hesitation.

“Talking about ruining a moment. Jeez!”, Johanna complained.

Where was she taking all the energy from?

“You are silly, you know that?”, Johanna addressed me again and leaned toward me. “Did you really think I was such a kind person?”

“What are you talking about? Do you wanna tell me you were nice to me the whole time?”, I teased her.

“Funny”, she stated sarcastically. “I can't stand most people, but spent so much time with you. Kissing is one thing, but I let you hug me.”

“Wait! Hugging is a greater deal than kissing?”, I exclaimed surprised.

“Of course it is! Did you ever see anyone hug me?”

I shook my head.

“So do you even wanna listen or should I just stop?”, she mocked me.

“No, sorry! I won't interrupt you again”, I promised.

“Sure. What I wanna say is that nothing I said or did was a lie, except the fact that it was an act”, she admitted bluntly.

My mind refused to process her words.

“Are you gonna react or do you wanna stare at me for the rest of forever?”, Johanna grinned nervously.

Without another thought I hugged her tightly. Because it meant more than a kiss.

“So you're giving me a second chance as your girlfriend? This time without any act?”, I reassured.

“Yeah.”

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

Next Chapter

[harryleatherfit]

Upper East Side || A.U || Frankie Morales

Chapter 10: Hands

Chapter Playlist

Family Tree- Ethel Cain

Novacane- Frank Ocean

Butterscotch Goddamn- Fischerspooner

words: 5481

warnings: alcohol consumption, thigh riding, being held back?? orgasm, mentions of blood (fake tho) mentions of abusive parents, soft!dom frankie

pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader || Slowburn x Teacher Student x Soulmates

authors note: kinda a filler, but smut no worries. leading up to my favorite chapters i promise. had a few requests for one shots so working on those too!

🪩Main Master List🪩 Series Master List🪩

Frankie +POV

It was a night at the bar for him and the boys. One of their last free nights before it was time for the show. They were all exhausted from teaching during the day, to working on the set at night. He stayed with Benny and you for your lesson, to fortunately have a night of his life that he’ll never forget, but he was exhausted. The set for the Broadway theater had to be perfect. So many people were coming, and the school was going to be the talk of many social media outlets, newspaper columns, and this would bring in so much money for the spring musical.

Ultimately, he wanted this to all be over and to spend time with you. He wanted to put everything aside and swish you away for a vacation, or to go away and be around people that wouldn’t know you both. This feeling was eating him alive, he needed to be alone tonight with you, but you had previously told him you were sleeping early tonight to save your energy for the weekend, and the boys wanted to pull him away for a few drinks.

“Hello, Earth to Fish.” Pope waved his hand. “What’s up with you man?”

“Nothing, I’ll take a whiskey on the rocks.” He tells the bartender. It was 10ish, the night life at this specific bar was more older. Jazz was playing, attracting an older crowd. The guys ordered their drinks and food, making small talk about the show.

“Nah I know what this is about, it’s about that girl isn’t it?” Ironhead states. His girl.

He caught Frankie in a daze, “What?” He was already daydreaming about you. Longing for your soft heartfelt touch.

“You know who I’m fucking talking about, don’t play dumb with us man.”

He chuckles, “What can I say, this is different.” He sips his drink.

“You’re happier,” Refly adds.

“I haven’t had these many heart palpitations in a long time. She’s gonna kill me.” Frankie scratches his head, he didn't want to give too much away, but they all already knew about you. They had to pluck it out of him when he was drunk on poker night.

“About damn time dude.” Pope cheers, “Get this man more drinks he’s fuckinnnn pussy whipped! Had to find out the hard way you brought in Timothee for her, and that’s he’s comin tomorrow too? I feel betrayed.” He gasps.

“Calm down, calm down. It’s complicated, we can’t be screamin it to the world.” He hushes Pope down.

“How? You posted her, it's everywhere man.” Ironhead pips.

He’s thought about this a million times, talked it over with you a billion, “I just feel bad, being her teacher. I don’t want her to ever think I have some ulterior motive with her, or her to think I’m usin her. I mean we’ve talked about it before, and we know the risks of doing this. But I won’t lie and say that I’m not scared. She’s scared. If we’re open to the public this could ruin the both of us, and we’ll be looked at differently.” He gulps the last of the drink, “I mean when I told you guys, you all didn’t give me shit which I was surprised you didn’t clown me at first but-.”

“Fish, we saw how you reacted when we went to UNCSA to see her perform. Remember that night, after he hugged her and she didn’t even pay any attention to him? He practically cried like a little baby.” Redfly deadpanned, “I mean we could all see her talent from that stage. You were just the old grump that wanted her to jump your bones.” Abruptly bursting into laughter Ironhead and Pope clapped Redfly on the back.

“Very fucking funny man.” Frankie grumbles. He rips his hand around his glass cup, thinking about what you were doing right now, he hasn’t seen you since your voice lesson.

The first time he saw you was at your last performance of Cabaret. He couldn’t believe your performance, the way you fit Sally so well. Blowing the whole crowd away, the makeup on your face shimmered in the magnetic lighting, the costume flowing with the curve of your legs. Every miniscule facial expression is meticulously made up in your head. He could feel your character soaking in everyone's life, walking out of the show changed. A star. The next night, the whole team was tasked to go to your music recital, and your voice made people cry. Your emotion in singing was mood altering. This night reminded him of his childhood, how badly he wanted to let his creative brain flow but was inevitably allowed to. He had an older brother that would get under his skin, and parents that would eventually throw him out. Events in his life he wouldnt change, but still broke his soul nonetheless. He understood exactly what it was like to be a foreigner to your blood family, and seeing you shake from your mom took him back to when he was a little boy. He craved a love that would devour his body eternally at such a young age, he never thought he would find it. Because of this, he had to get to know you somehow. Once he knew everyone finalized for you and Laylah to come, he vowed to himself that he had to learn to be close to you, and find a way to protect you from evil New York, no matter what happened between you two.

Ultimately, being with you has changed him, and he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to scare you, but he wants more with you, he wants more for you.

“It happens, and that’s okay. We’ll help you figure this out. Benny, have you got any wise words of yours?” Redfly asks.

Frankie knew this wasn’t an easy topic for him, you being his star student. Of course you were the star student, they all fucking knew that. Emails from every agency asking about you, asking when you’d be done with college and ready to have your acting reel done. Ready to come to Hollywood and work with the real dogs. But, Benny was being the quietest of them all, he was happy for Frankie and you, not letting you know he knows, but this was a serious matter. Benny would be the one to help you for the rest of the year to make sure you would get a good part in the musical, as well getting booked after college.

It was his job to make sure the world sees your talent, as well as hears how well you sound. From a teacher's perspective he didn’t fully agree with it all, of course it would be a scandal, a teacher with a student. But as a long time friend with Frankie, he understood. He knew his life, knew what he has gone through and observes that this is the happiest Frankie has ever been.

“Well you flustered her, the entire lesson. She was trying really fucking hard to not be unfocused, but you do something to her that distracts her.”

Frankie frowned, he didn’t want to distract you, he didn’t want to hurt you in any way. He didn't want to be in the way of anything for you.

“I mean they’re practically fucking teenagers, if you all were there you would’ve felt the energy, they couldn’t keep their eyes off of each other.” He laughs, how Benny had no idea what had happened after her voice lesson, and leading up to it, “I’m happy for you Fish, and I support you guys every step of the way, I will always be here to help with Media, or anything that comes out. I will use my power in this fucked world. We all will, right?” Benny gets nods from the guys, “See we’re all here to help you, just be careful with her. Don’t fucking break her. You saw how fragile she is. She’s strong but one wrong kick coming from the wrong person.” Referencing your mom and Nina, “Then she can bring the world down with her. She’s emotional, but she’ll turn that emotion into her craft. We literally saw it in her audition, so this can’t be some one night stand shit.” One night stand enrages Frankie. You were definitely not some one night stand.

“She isn’t some one night stand Benny. Can’t fuckin believe you’d think that.”

“Hey, don’t fuckin talk to me like that. Or you aren’t allowed in her lessons anymore.” He snarls back at Frankie, “All I’m saying, we’ve seen you spiral after being with someone. Okay? This, whatever this is with her, is fucking precious and if you break it, if you fuck it up, and this ruins her career, you have to live with that.”

The air was stagnant with the boys, heavy and thick. Words said in the air to make Frankie overthink, was he in the way of your life? Was he gonna ruin you?

“I think I’m in love with her.” But, he could never truly say this to you, “I am gonna ask her to be my girl after the first show. I think it’s time, I want to take things slow with her.”

“Well congrats Fish, first step to finally settlin down.” Pope assures, ordering another round of drinks.

--------

Last rehearsal before opening night, the longest night of them all. Earlier in the week, it was the first dress rehearsal and there was magic in the air. Getting to work with the full set and props on Broadway, feeling the lights on your skin. Makeup sponged into your pores. Costumes sewed to your body, it was all so surreal.

The sleep you had gotten the night before was rejuvenating enough for your body, at least enough for your head to properly perceive the next few days. You were excited and couldn’t wait to become someone else for a while, you had the opportunity to really wow an audience again.

Techies were called at 5PM, thirty minutes after the last class had ended for the day, and actors were called at 6, but you decided to take today as a rest day, per Ms. Royalce’s order. You hadn’t gotten to see Frankie all day, you hadn’t seen him since your voice lesson, but you decided to go in with Laylah for her call time so you could at least see him even though he was going to be outrageously busy.

After having your ID checked by the outside ushers of the theater, you were met with the authentic air. The air that you could live, breathe, eat and sleep for eternity. Tonight was your last night of freedom, tomorrow can’t be safe.

As you always have seen, Frankie was on a ladder fixing something on the stage, all the other professors/ directors fiddling with papers, making phone calls, and having their assistants book food for the night. Nina is nowhere to be found. A sigh of relief fell from your heart.

You came with Laylah early, always eager to see what each rehearsal has in store.

“Over here! The perfect people, get over here!” Ms Roylance shouts from the apron of the stage.

You and Laylah shake your heads, wondering where that could have come from, she was always a stressed woman but you make way.

Frankie looks down from the light he was fixing and as he immediately lays eyes on you, you see the giddy boy smile on his face as he rushes down the steps. The swell in your heart.

“My perfect star girl, are you excited?”

You chew your cheek, “I would be lying if I said I wasn’t, I mean look at this.” You turn to all the empty seats that will be filled the very next night.

“I am so grateful you guys are here early. Laylah can you get her into her makeup right now, once you’re done coffee would have arrived by then so first dips for you both.”

“Hey I made the call to that company,” Mr. Miller objects, “I should get first dibs over them.” He pouts.

“You’ll drink about anything with caffeine in it man.” Frankie shakes his shoulders.

Their banter makes you happy, all of them being able to work together makes the performing arts world ten times better.

“Ok head off, go get all beautified.” Ms Roylace shoos you both away, “And hey Morales? Go with them to update them for the night.”

His face drops and you laugh under your breath, turning away with Laylah going to the dressing rooms where the makeup would be.

You make your way into the room, admiring all the signatures over the walls, the wigs on the shelves and beautiful products you would never have the money to buy. You sit in the chair and clean your face with a soothing toner, clawing your hair pack for Laylah.

Frankie walks in and you look at him through the mirror, smiling so hard you knew the crinkle from eyes would be permanent all night.

“Evenin ladies, I wanted to let you know that I called some people to watch the show tonight, we’ll have a little audience. Hope that doesn’t frighten you.”

“If I may ask,” Laylah inquires as she starts rubbing your face with moisturizer, “Who will be in this audience.”

“I wanted Timothee to come back with some of his co-stars from the French Dispatch to come.”

You immediately choke on your saliva, remembering why you met Timothee in the first place. You open your eyes to see his smirk.

“Any tips for tonight to impress our impending crowd, Mr Morales?” You tilt your head in his direction.

“Be yourself, you’ll dazzle them all. Don’t worry darlin.” He tangles his arms together, “Hey Laylah, put that gold glitter all over her collar bones, I think we should do that tonight. The blood with the glitter will react with her skin well.”

“I like your thinking,” Laylah rummages through the boxes, “I found it!” They cheer.

“Now grab a bowl, dump a spoon of glitter with liquid highlighter, and after set with hairspray on her chest. That’ll make it stay all night.”

As Laylah flicks the glitter over your collar bones, covering up most of your tattoos and spraying Lady Macbeth over your body, Frankie gazing over you. The glitter makes you a trophy. He was so soft, explaining everything to them.

You noticed how hard he was with his students, he had this front to him that was horrible to break. But once you got to work with him, got to know him and understand his tough love thought process, he was like that to make you work harder. You appreciate him so much. You were surprised how he never had children of his own, he knew parental parameters so well. His delicacy turned you on, in reality he was really touchable to everyone.

“All done.” They spink you towards Frankie, “It’s beautiful on you.”

He caught his breath, “Gorgeous.” And his eyes never leave you.

“I’m gonna continue her makeup if you don’t mind.” They smile at him and you smack yourself in the head, that was definitely awkward for Laylah. He gets up and leaves with no explanation.

They pause, “So you gonna tell me what the fuck that was about?”

“No comment.” You smirk.

“After tonight, you-me, The Bear, and you’re fucking tellin me what’s going on.” They shake their head

“Deal.”

----------

You were given your cue to walk on stage, it was your final dress rehearsal, you were in Lady Macbeth's gown and makeup, your hair was done and you were in more character than ever.

As soon as you were on the stage alone, you could feel the presence of these important people. You could see Timothee’s curly hair in your eyesight. When you walked up to the apron of the stage to deliver your first monologue you could feel the personality of Saoirse Ronan. You could feel the life of Wes Anderson in front of you, you can feel the scarcity of Adrien Brody. This was your only opportunity to impress- you can not fuck it up.

You move through your dialogue, making sure to slow down. As an actor, you have to anticipate, and live through the character vicariously.

Just as you had done during your audition, just like rehearsals, you dig through your mind of every piece of advice you had been given to complete this character. Before the show was set to start, you listened to rain. You listened to women screaming for their lives, shaking from the decibels resonating through your head.

You and Mattias moved through the stage carefully, and when it was time for your death monologue, you felt the strength to scream, you felt your throat viling up to convulse. You thought of your mom’s phone call. You thought of your father, the tone of voice he had with your mother. You felt the syrupy blood that was thrown on you before hand seeping through your clothes, all over your face. Dripping from your fingertips, your character wanted vengeance, she wanted a life. You wanted a life. Your scream filled the entire theater. You wanted it to hurt your throat, you liked the threading dull pain it felt in your throat. This wasn’t acting anymore, this was you purely on the stage. You weren’t mad that you didn’t save your throat, Mr. Miller can take it up with you for another day.

Finishing the end, you sleep walk off stage, ending your final collapse. Gasping, flinching for air. You could contort your body so easily in a character role, it almost freaked you out. Never realizing how inflicting pain on yourself for something, or at least acting like it, was memorable in your heart.

You get pulled off stage by a crew member, walking off to your dressing room to clean yourself up. Applauded on the way from the tech crew, you felt relieved that it was finally over. Your first real performance would be the next day.

You turned the corner and the, already smirking in the mirror. Frankie sitting in your chair.

“That was,” He rubs his chin, “That was different.” Looking at his heavy eyes, you both were tired.

You shrug, “It was.” The fake blood was seeping off your body, “I think I hurt my voice.”

“It felt too real, c’mere, come sit on my lap.” He leans back in the chair, “And lock the door.”

“Frankie, they’ll see the blood on you and what if they need you in the booth?” You shudder.

“They’ll fuckin survive, I wanna be with my girl and I’m wearing black clothes.”

He reaches his arms out, pulling you in close. The dress you were wearing was beyond thick at the bottom.“You never cease to amaze me, they all couldn’t stop talking about you.”

You sit on his thighs, he tucked loose strands of hair behind your ears, heart beating faster than ever, “How do you know?” You ask, head falling underneath his chin.

“I sat with them for your scenes, I left the crew in the booth. They should have it down by now anyway. That Anderson man was shocked how loud you can scream.”

“You’re saying that to make me feel better.” You laugh.

“No beautiful, they all couldn't take their eyes off you. You upstage Mattias a lot in your scenes and they couldn’t stop talking about how beautiful you are.” He hums.

“Liar,” You shut your eyes, inhaling his usual intoxicating scent. The room was small enough that being there for minutes you could only smell him. He starts to kiss your neck, getting the blood all over his face.

“Frankie, we need to go before we get caught,” You start to shove him off, “ or before bows.”He pulls you back down immediately, “We have time, I promise.”

He wraps his arms around you, lacing his hands on the bodice of your dress.

“You look perfect in this, the fabric and beading of it is so intricate.” He traces the middle seam of the bodice, moving up all the way to your chest, loosening the ties to the corset top.

“Frankie, what do you think you’re doing? It took three people to get me into this.”

“Let me make you feel good, I know you’re tired sweet girl, always workin so hard.” You straighten up against him, he always knew how to sugar coat your brain.

“Bring the dress over your head, let me see you.” You do as he says, lifting off his lap, moving the tulle and silk layers away from your legs up to your head. He grabs it over your head throwin it on the floor, leaving you in your basics that practically looked like lingerie. You had on sheer black tights that showed your tattoos, and your basics couldn't leave much to the imagination. You were glad you hadn’t worn rags underneath this, you were lucky that no fake blood got on any of it either.

“Wearin this for me?” He mutters, “Who knew that basics underneath a costume could be so promiscuous, huh?” He kisses your arm, trailing back up to your neck, almost whimpering when he leaves your skin to breathe.

“I have much more to wear for you, Frankie.” You breathe.

His mind goes blank, getting to see you in such delicate clothing that you liked was a world phenomena. “Well, I have a surprise for you after the show tomorrow.” He coos, “Been waiting to show you for a while.”

“You can’t tell me now?” You close your eyes, leaning back behind his head. His hands lingering near your lower stomach. What does a suprise mean to him?

“That would ruin all the fun, sweetheart.” He purrs. He was being so soft with you, taking care of you after such a long week of working. You squirm against him, of course heat was growing beneath you. You could feel the padded fabric enclosing your pussy go damp. If you lifted yourself off of his leg, there would be a pool beneath you. Frankie has this power over you that couldn’t be controlled. You noticed today he was wearing tighter jeans than usual, his bulge being so prominent that nothing could hide it.

“Keep movin darlin, I can feel that soaked pussy pulsating on my leg.”

“You want me to- you want me to keep rubbing-?” You mumble.

“Don’t be embarrassed, pretty girl, use my leg. Move those hips back and forth on my thigh and get yourself off.”

Your brain short circuits and before you can do anything, his fingers pull your nipples, delicately circling them. He watches you tick, back almost giving out.

You start to move up and down, bracing your hands on his knee for stability. You couldn’t get enough friction, the padding of your underwear keeping you away from him. You drag a hand to your clothed cunt, pulling aside your underwear, exposing yourself on his thick muscle. Feeling his body hug you, you clamp down on him. Your clit flutters against the perfect spot on his jeans.

“Dirty girl, pussy out in the open. That’s my girl. Keep rubbin, keep fuckin soakin my leg.”

The bulge of his quad muscle working against your core had you shrieking. He wraps a hand around your mouth.

“You can’t be loud honey, and that voice needs to rest. Think you can be quiet for me?”

“Nh- Frankie- feel’s good. Your leg is so- so thick.” Your gasps are muffled by his hand, your eyes crossing from the pleasure. The weight of his hand on your face makes you crack.

“That’s right pretty girl, rub on my leg like it’s my cock. So beautiful when you’re gettin yourself off on me. I can watch this all my life baby.” He brushes his face into your hair. Sweat was building all over your body, you were beyond flushed, and you were getting goosebumps on how this orgasm felt too different.

It felt slower, but the anticipation of it all was driving you fucking crazy. His hand covering your mouth, and his arm holding you down felt like gold. Your orgasm hitting you so painfully that if he didn’t hold you back, you would’ve screamed your head off, convulsing from the rippling of your muscles intermixing with his.

You could breathe perfectly through your nose, chest heaving but never forgetting how good this felt for you. You fall back into him, laying limp.

“Baby, was that too much? You’re silent-was I holding you down too tight, can you breathe-” He rushes.

“Can I breathe? Frankie that was amazing. Your so fucking strong, I needed you to hold me back, “ You weave your hands through his hair, “So fucking strong, fuck.”

You thought of him, fucking you. You riding him and him pulling you down onto you. You craved that moment. You were beyond blissed out.

“Just tie me down and fuck me already Frankie.” You relish.

“You’d like that, huh?”

You nod seductively, you’re fucking ready to do anything with him.

“Jesus girl, that mouth’s gonna get you in trouble.” He laughs.

"Let it, wanna do everything with you.” You crash your lips with his, you mean every word. Your heart swells when you're around him now.

You get up from his lap, shakily looking for the clothes you came to the theater with. You look into the mirror, the blood smeared all over your neck. Frankie laughs that he has it all over his face from kissing you.

You check your phone, it was 20 minutes after your death scene, bows.

“Frankie, bows are any minute!” You panic

He finds the closest wipes, rubbing the blood off. The only noticeable stain on him now was on his jeans. Nobody could possibly know, right?

You open your door slowly, checking to see if the coast is clear for you both to walk out. You pull his arm with you, quickly rushing out of the dressing area.

You guys get back to the stage, holding hands with him in the dark, leading you off. You hurry to get to your spot in the line, taking bow with your castmates, channeling the biggest smile in your face. Squeezing Mattias’s hand, the perfect duo on stage.

A row of accomplished faces in front of you steer into roars, all your worries run away. Your standing ovation from them was minutes.

The lights go back to normal and everyone's hugging each other. After so long working on this show, everything is paying off.

Timothee runs up the stairs to the stage giddishly, weaving through the cast, to come up and hug you. You gasp, you can’t believe that he remembers who you are.

“I mean I saw you in that monologue, but fuck man,” He prods, “You’re amazing. Frankie was right.”

You smile stupidly, uncanny that he knows you because of Frankie. “None of you had to come, I mean this is too much.” Timothee hugs Mattias and you two feel like children at Disney World.

“Man they wanted to, I said I was going to see a friend of mines show,” He whispers under hsi breath, “That his girl is gonna be on broadway you asshole- on fucking broadway,” He yells, “And they all wanted to tag along after a long day of filming and dealing with busy people.”

You can see all of them talking to Frankie in the corner, bracing yourself as they move closer to you in a group, slightly hiding behind Mattias.

“And this is your Macbeth and Lady Macbeth.” Frankie introduces you.

You all shake hands and exchange names, butterflies killing your stomach.

“I just wanted to say, thank you all for coming to see the show, this is more than I could have ever dreamt of.” You blurt.

Wes not saying much, smiling and partially shy.

“Please, this was a delight to see. Up and coming talent is the most important.” Saoirse hugs you, her Irish accent so thick.

Adrien pats Frankie on the shoulder, “We knew this man made a perfect set, but you actors are gonna put us out of jobs.” He says, such a hot man. You couldn’t breath with all this talent and beautiful people around you.

“Where you both from?” Adrien asks.

“I'm from the Bronx and she’s from North Carolina.” Mattias points at you.

“Ah, the Carolinas. Like it there?” He asks.

“It was alright, treated me well. Not much to do but it’s pretty.” It was such a pretty state.

“We had to go film there for a scene in a museum, it was a scene for Timothee. Have you been to the art museum?” Wes pipes up, surprised that he was even talking to you.

“Yes I have!” You nod, “I think that’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever been.”

“Wait til you go to Europe, your mind will explode.” Timothee adds.

You think about it, “If I may ask, was there anything that you all saw that I, or we both could work on?”

“No, don’t change anything. This is beautiful. Beautifully casted. You both work so well together, and the dialogue is magnificent. And you, I mean that scream blew all our eardrums out.” Saoirse says.

TImothee and Adrien agree.

“I would, “ Wes moves closer to you both, “Shake your legs, and breathe. Look at me.” You and Mattias do as the strange man says, “ How do you feel, exactly every word in your head.”

“Scared and nervous to be around people like you, my hearts gonna burst and my words could slur and strew together.” Mattias spits.

Frankie coughs.

“And you?” Wes turns.

You nod fast, motioning to everything Mattias said.

“That’s the thing. It doesn’t matter if there's people like us in the crowd. We are ordinary people in the crowd. We are nobodies. You two are the stars of the show, so feel like it.” His funky smile shows.

The stress falls off your shoulder in an instant, feeling Mattias’s relief.

“Everythings gonna be okay, you two. Nothing to worry about.” Frankie pulls you and Mattias in for a hug. Hand falling to your lower back.

------

You made it back to your suite, Hannah and Rose already asleep, but Laylah not failing to go through her word with a self care night.

She bombards you when you walk through the door, “What's going on with you and Mr. Morales? Why was he being so awkward? You have to tell me please please please…”

“Get off me.” You giggle, “They can't hear this.”

They settle on their bed, handing you a sheet mask and a cup of lemon tea.

“You pinky swear, I mean Laylah this can end both of us, if I tell you. You can’t tell anyone. No one, not even the boy you were with.”

“I promise with my life, I will never tell anyone.” Crossing their fingers with yours.

“I don’t know just that night at the club, he was there with all the other teachers, and he saw me. I went to the bathroom and things just started to happen..”

“No need for the details,” They shake you, “ But what the actual fuck! So the eyes at the beginning of the year were real!”

“They were real… that picture he posted, the one you guys were talking about in the group chat was me.”

“No fucking way, what the fuck.” She whispers

“Trust me I know, I didn’t know what to say, and he just did it and I had to act dumb in the group chat.”

“You fucking bitch, the whole time it was you and you knew!”

“I know I’m a criminal, I can’t help it,” Sipping on your tea, “But it’s all so new you know. We’ve both been so busy with everything and trying to stay away from the public together and yeah, all so new.”

“Andd…”

“And what?”

“Are you guys dating? Fucking?”

“No, and not yet. I mean we're monogamous, we're only seeing each other right now but it's all so risky and we graduate in less than a year, wherever I go he can’t follow me. I’m happy with where we’re both at right now. And imagine people find out Laylah, I would never be casted again and he’d be fired. It would look like I’m fucking my way to the top when I’m not.” You huff, the whole situation works you up.

“You’re smart, do not let this get in the way of loving him. The way he was staring at you today. They way he said he’d check on you in the booth a couple weeks ago, he’s in it deep.”

“God I’d hope so.” You fucking hope so.

——-

previous || next

[k4marina]

— iv. The Queen's Justice || Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: after successfully fending off euron greyjoy and his ironborn fleet, daenerys, and her people, prepare for jon snows arrival.

warnings: little bit of angst (the girls are fightinggg 😬), game of thrones cannon violence and dialogue. based around the episode, the queen's justice [s7 ep3].

all dialogue in Valyrian is italicized

series masterlist || next part

6.5k wrd count

game of thrones x modern!fem!reader

[gif found on pinterest]

“To Lady Vellarys, for your bravery and victory in battle.” Tyrion raises his wine filled glass in a toast. I appreciatively smiled and raised my own. He sat on the other sofa across from me. A pitcher of wine and snacks were laid out on the table between us and the candles were dimly lighting the room.

“Thank you, Lord Tyrion, but there’s no need for that. I was just doing what I had to.” 

“Oh, nonsense.” He reached over to pluck a grape off of the vine and plops it into his mouth. My eyes briefly glanced towards the scar that ran diagonally across his face. “A battle is a battle. You should be proud of yourself, not many would be able to do what you have done.” 

“Then to you, as well,” I raised my glass. “For defending King’s Landing from Stannis Baratheon's army at Blackwater Bay.” 

He raises his glass again and we both take a sip from our cups. 

“Now that we have Euron Greyjoy in our custody, Cersei no longer has anyone to command her fleet.” Tyrion hums. 

I nod. “One by one, the people around her will either fall or turn themselves towards Daenerys.” 

“Well not all of them,” he looks off, thinking of his brother. 

“Especially Jamie.” I caught him off guard. 

“You don’t know my brother as well as I do. He’s madly in love with her.” 

“That’s what he thinks, but times have changed.” I slowly swirled my glass. “All of his children are dead, and at the root cause is Cersei. It won’t be long until he realizes that and turns his back.”

“And you’re sure of this?” He sounds skeptical. 

“I am.” He doesn’t say much about it after that, letting the words settle in. I could see his mind moving a mile a minute; How will Jamie leave her? Why does he leave? When will he leave? Will he come join his brother's side? 

The air around us settles and he changes the subject.

“I’m sure you understand why I trust Varys so much.” He says, staring into his wine, his fingers dancing around the rip of his glass.

“Of course. He saved you from your execution and helped you into Daenerys’ good graces. But I’m sure you also understand why I don’t trust him.”

He purses his lips and lightly shakes his head. “I’m afraid I do not.”

I sighed. “Try. Look at what I’m seeing as an outsider, not as his friend.”

Tyrion swallows. “He’s an honorable man who serves the realm. Even before our friendship I’d always had respect for him.” 

I shake my head. “He’s a spider. He’ll pull you into his web with sweet words and wrap you up in his silk and before you know it he’s sunk his fangs into your neck and you're dead.” 

“Tell me, was Joffrey a good King?” I ask. 

Tyrion shakes his head. 

“Was he a good man?”

He shakes his head again.

“Then why did he serve him? He has the power to replace whoever is on the Iron Throne, we both know that. So why didn’t he?” I crossed my legs. “There was a time when he did serve the Realm, but now after everything, Aenys, Robert, Joffrey, it’s not wrong to question his motives.” 

Tyrion sat there taking in my harsh words, not knowing if to believe me or his friend. 

“He could have done it right, he had his opportunity to serve the realm.” I argued. “He could have helped Rhaegar peacefully take his fathers throne, but instead he whispered in Aenys’ ear and fed into his paranoia, knowing that the consequences would be deadly.” 

“But Rhaegar kidnapped Lyanna Stark and raped her surly that proves that he wasn’t fit to be King.” He countered. 

“Is that what you believe?” I looked into his eyes. “Or was that what you were told?” 

Tyrion frowns. “Are you saying that that is false? Rhaegar did not do those things?” 

I press my lips together. “There is a lot that you don’t know about. And in due time it’ll come out. But I need to know where your loyalties lie; Varys or Daenerys. Your friend may seem like he’s a team player, but we don’t really know that. When you bent the knee to Daenerys you did it because you believed in her and her vision of a new and better world, do not forget that.” 

–––

I quietly shut the door behind me. The castle hall was barren of anyone as they were all asleep. Deciding that I needed to cool off a bit I made a right, taking the longer way back to my room. The talk with Tyrion was difficult. I knew going in that it would be nearly impossible to fully convince him of dropping Varys. But as long as I could plant the seeds of doubt I knew my plan would work. 

During the final years of Daenerys’ campaign and life Tyrion had been slipping from his duties of her Hand all because of Varys whispering his venomous words into his ear. I just hoped that this would be enough for him to reevaluate his loyalties and come back to Daenerys’ side.

Turning into my room I stripped myself of my armor and down to my shift before crawling into bed. I stared up onto the stone ceiling, tracing the sharp edges with my eyes. I could only hope that tomorrow would be less action filled, but then again Jon Snow was coming. 

––

The next morning Daenerys had once again called an early Small Council meeting. And after last night's side mission, it was safe to say that I was exhausted. 

If only this era had energy drinks then I would be able to properly function. Despite my sleep deprivation it didn’t stop me from telling the servant brushing my hair of my new hairstyle. After all, I made Daenerys’ a promise. 

We met again in the Painted Chamber, sitting around a table (that wasn’t shaped like Westeros). I sat on the left side near Daenerys’ seat and Missandei sat to my right. Tyrion took a seat across from me, giving everyone polite nods, but avoiding eye contact with me. 

I leaned back in my seat, crossing my arms over my chest and closing my eyes, sighing. 

“You look tired.” Missandei comments in Valyrian. “Did you sleep alright?”

I opened my eyes and tilted my head towards her. “As good as I can after riding a dragon all night. I was planning on sleeping as soon as I came back but I had to speak with someone.”

“Lord Hand?”

I nod. “By the time I went back to my room I was out like a light.”

She stays quiet for a moment, flickering her gaze to Tyrion and the empty seat for Varys next to him. “I take it that your conversation didn’t make much progress.” 

I lightly scoffed. “They’re friends. He saved him from being executed by his sister. He feels that he’s indebted to him. But he also knows where his loyalties should lie, or at least he does after last night.”

The doors open once more and Varys steps into the room, taking his seat next to Tyrion. Missandei and I exchange another look just as the doors open again and Daenerys steps in. Everyone raises as she makes her way to the head of the table. She briefly paused, glancing at my hair and smiling before sitting down with us a beat behind.

“Last night not only were we able to safely defend our allies, but we also took Euron Greyjoy as a prisoner and his fleet all thanks to Y/n’s insite.” Daenerys nods my way before locking eyes with Varys. “However, I wonder how my Master of Whispers had no knowledge of the ambush or how Cersei knew their whereabouts.” 

Varys bows his head. “I apologize, Your Grace. I was informed by my little birds by the time Lady Vellarys had arrived back.” Tyrion glanced over towards me before looking down at his folded hands atop the table. 

Daenerys keeps her eyes locked on Varys for another moment before looking away. “Regardless, my allies are safe and Cersei has one less.” She turned towards Tyrion, “have you heard from Jon Snow?”

“Yes, Your Grace. He’s left for Dragonstone and will be arriving by tomorrow late afternoon.” Tyrion replies. 

“And you’re sure that he will be an ally and not a threat?” 

“He’s a noble man. I’m sure once he meets you he will swear his loyalties to you.” Tyrion nods and I bite my tongue, if only they knew.

“Good,” she nods. “Then we’ll have the South, West, and North on our sides and Cersei will have no one.” 

“Not entirely.” I said. “It’s true she has fewer men than us, but not for long. She’ll be contacting the Golden Company for soldiers and cavalry.” 

“But the Lannisters are in debt,” Varys says. “Their gold is nearly gone.” 

“But the Tyrell’s aren’t.” 

“She’s going to ransack Highgarden?” Daenerys asks. 

I nod. “She needs money for her debts and army and, currently, the Tyrells are the richest family in Westeros.” 

Daenerys nods. “Send a raven to Highgarden informing them of Caersei’s attack.” 

Once the meeting had ended Daenerys dismissed everyone but me. I poured us both some wine, handing her a glass. 

“You’re smiling.”

“Your hair.” She replied. 

“I told you, once I’ve won you a battle I’ll wear a braid.” 

“How did you feel?” 

I shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. I think I had so much adrenaline in me that it numbed me.” 

She nodded, smiling but I could tell that something was going through her mind. 

“You’re distracted.” 

She looks down at her glass. “Yesterday when I spoke to Lady Olenna alone she told me that she was handing over Highgarden to me.” 

I nod. “She’s going to take her life. She’s the last of the Tyrells and she’s entrusted you with her home.” I watched her expression change. “But that’s not what you’re thinking about.” 

She hesitates. “I’m also the last of my house. I can’t bear any children. My bloodline ends with me.” 

“You don’t know that.”

“But Mirri Maz Durr said-” 

“Forget about her. That woman took Khal Drogo and your child's life, that’s all. You will have more children.”

“But if I can’t,” she reaches over, taking my hand in hers. “I want you first in my line of succession.” 

I sucked in a breath, shocked at what she was saying. She wanted me to do what?

“Promise me, that if I can’t have an heir that you will.” 

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. Me, continue the Targaryen line through my children? I didn’t even know if I would stay long enough for that to happen. 

I placed my other hand on top of hers. “You will have children that will carry your and your house's name for generations to come, I promise you that.” 

–––––

Waves crashed against the rocks littered across Dragonstones beach. A group of men led by Tyrion and Missandei make their way up the stone pathway built into the island's cliff. A loud roar is heard from overhead and the group of men all dive down as Drogon and Viserion fly over them. They watch in a mix of shock and amazement and look back to Missandei and Tyrion standing. Tyrion helps one of the men up but he stops in his tracks making eye contact with someone standing above the steps on the stone landing. Tyrion and Missandei follow the man's gaze and watch as I step off the landing and walk down to them. 

“Meet Lady Y/n Vellarys, a close confidante of Queen Daenerys. Lady Vellarys, this is Jon Snow and Ser Davos Seaworth.” Tyrion says, motioning to the two men. 

“I apologize for the scare, they just had their afternoon nap and are quite energized.” I say to them. “Come,” I turned back towards the castle. “Their mother is waiting for you.” 

Jon and Davos exchange glances with one another and take one last look up at the sky seeing all three of the dragons flying before following behind. I look up to the cliffs and see Melisandre and Varys standing together, exchanging words of their own.

They’re led into the castle and the Dothraki guards open the door to the throne room. Daenerys sits on the throne, watching the King in the North and his men enter. Tyrion, Missandei, and I step up onto the dais and to our respective places as Missandei addressed the men. 

“You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, rightful heir to the Iron Throne, rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, The Unburnt, The Breaker of Chains.” 

Jon turns to look at Davos, both looking underprepared. 

“This is Jon Snow.” Davos says. He nods and pauses. “He’s King in the North.” 

I could see Tyrion smirking in the corner of my eye and I have to stop myself from laughing.

“Thank you for traveling so far, My Lords. I hope the seas weren’t too rough.” Daenerys says. 

“The winds were kind, Your Grace,” Jon replies. 

“Apologies. I have a Flea Bottom accent, I know. But Jon Snow is King in the North, Your Grace. He's not a lord.” Ser Davos interrupts, confused.

“Forgive me,” Daenerys glances towards Tyrion for a name. 

“Your Grace, this is Ser Davos Seaworth.” 

“Forgive me, Ser Davos.” She continued and I could hear the slight annoyance in her voice. “I never did receive a formal education, but I could have sworn the last King in the North was Torren Stark who bent the knee to my ancestor Aegon Targaryen in exchange for his life and the lives of the northmen. Torren Stark swore fealty to House Targaryen in perpetuity. But do I have my facts wrong?”

“I wasn’t there, Your Grace.” He replies bluntly.

“No. Of course not. But still, an oath is an oath. In perpetuity means – what does perpetuity mean, Lord Tyrion?” 

“Forever,” He says. 

“Forever.” She echos. “So I assume, My Lord, that you’re here to bend the knee.” 

“I am not.” Jon replied, unwavering. 

“Oh. Well, that is unfortunate. You've traveled all this way to break faith with House Targaryen?” Daenerys’ patients was waning thin and I feared that this meeting was all for nought. 

Jon could scoff. “Break faith? Your father burned my grandfather alive. He burned my uncle alive. He would have burned the Seven Kingdoms.” 

“My father was an evil man.” Daenerys began. “On behalf of House Targaryen I ask your forgiveness for the crimes he committed against your family. And I ask you not to judge a daughter by the sins of her father. Our two houses were allies for centuries. Those were the best centuries the kingdom's ever known. Centuries of peace and prosperity with the Targaryens sitting on the Iron Throne and a Stark serving as Warden of the North. I am the last Targaryen, Jon Snow. Honor the pledge your ancestor made to mine. Bend the knee and I will name you Warden of the North. Together we will save this country from those who would destroy it.”

Jon nods. “You're right. You're not guilty of your father's crime.” I let out a sigh of relief thinking that he had come around. “And I'm not beholden to my ancestor's vows.”

I looked over at Tyrion who was annoyed. After all, he had vouched for Jon and it all seemed to backfire on him.

“Then why are you here?” Daenerys narrows her gaze at Jon. 

He takes a moment to answer. “Because I need your help and you need mine.” He sounds somewhat desperate, but also scared and it dawns on me.

Daenerys looks at Tyrion and then back to Jon. “Did you see three dragons flying overhead when you arrived?” 

“I did.”

“And did you see the Dothraki, all of whom have sworn to kill for me?” 

“They’re hard to miss.” 

“But still, I need your help?” Daenerys could almost laugh. 

“Not to defeat Cersei. You could storm King’s Landing tomorrow and the city would fall. Hell, we almost took it and we didn’t have dragons.” Ser Davos says, remembering the Battle of Blackwater Bay. 

“Almost.” Tyrion reminds. 

“But you haven't stormed King's Landing. Why not?” Jon says. “The only reason I can see is you don't want to kill thousands of innocent people. It's the fastest way to win the war but you won't do it. Which means at the very least you're better than Cersei.”

“Still, that doesn’t explain why I need your help.”

“Because right now you and I and Cersei and everyone else, we’re children playing at a game screaming that rules aren’t fair.” Jon says bluntly. 

Daenerys turns towards Tyrion, annoyance clearly written on her face. “You told me you liked this man.” 

“I do.” 

“In the time since he’s met me he’s refused to call me queen, he’s refused to bow and now he’s calling me a child.” 

“I believe he’s calling all of us children. Figure of speech.” Tyrion tries to clarify. 

“Your Grace,” Jon speaks up, getting her attention. “Everyone you know will die before winter is over if we don’t defeat the enemy to the north.” 

“As far as I can see, you are the enemy to the north.” Daenerys accuses.

“I am not your enemy.” Jon shakes his head. “The dead are the enemy.” 

My heart drops and Daenerys turns to me. I let out a shaky breath and turned towards Daenerys with a grim look and nod.

“Listen to him.” I say. 

“The Army of the Dead is on the march.” Jon explains.

“The Army of the Dead?” Tyrion repeats. 

“You don’t know me well, My Lord, but do you think I am a liar or a madman?” 

Tyrion shakes his head. “No. I don’t think you're either of those things.”

“The Army of the Dead is real. The White Walkers are real. The Night King is real. I’ve seen them. If they get past the wall and we’re squabbling amongst ourselves–,” Jon steps closer to the throne and the Dothraki guards step towards him. “–we’re finished.”

Everyone waits for Daenerys to say something. “I was born at Dragonstone. Not that I can remember it.” She stands up and walks down the steps towards Jon. “We fled before Robert's assassins could find us. Robert was your father's best friend, no? I wonder if your father knew his best friend sent assassins to murder a baby girl in her crib. Not that it matters now of course. I spent my life in foreign lands. So many men have tried to kill me. I don't remember all of their names. I have been sold like a brood mare. I have been chained and betrayed, raped and defiled. Do you know what kept me standing through all those years in exile? Faith. Not in any gods. Not in myths and legends. In myself. In Daenerys Targaryen. The world hadn't seen a dragon in centuries until my children were born. The Dothraki hadn't crossed the sea, any sea.” 

She stops walking, face to face with Jon Snow. “They did for me. I was born to rule the Seven Kingdoms.” 

I held my breath, waiting for Jon’s response. 

“You’ll be ruling over a graveyard if we don’t defeat the Night King.” 

Tyrion steps up to stand next to Daenerys. “The war against my sister has already begun. You can't expect us to halt hostilities and join you in fighting… whatever you saw beyond the wall.”

Ser Davos decides to speak up. “You don’t believe him. I understand that, It sounds like nonsense.” 

Jon nods in agreement as Ser Davos continues. “But if destiny has brought Daenerys Targaryen back to our shores, it has also made Jon Snow King in the North. You were the first to bring Dothraki to Westeros” 

The older man tries to reason with Daenerys so she can see their point of view. “He was the first to make allies with Wildlings and northmen. He was named Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. He was named King in the North. Not because of his birthright. He has no birthright. He's a damn bastard. All those hard sons of bitches chose him as their leader because they believe in him.”

Daenerys turns her attention towards Jon as Ser Davos sang his praises. “All those things you don't believe in, he faced those things. He fought those things for the good of his people. He risked his life for his people. He took a knife in the heart for his people. He gave his own–” Jon gives Davos a look to stop talking, catching Daenerys and Tyrions attention. Davos spoke more calmly, taking a breath.“If we don't put aside our enmities and band together we will die. And then it doesn't matter whose skeleton sits on the Iron Throne.”

“If it doesn’t matter you might as well kneel.” Tyrion says. Jon shakes his head and Tyrion continues to rationalize with him. “Swear your allegiance to Queen Daenerys. Help her to defeat my sister and together our armies will protect the north.” 

“There’s no time for that.” Jon replies, almost solemnly. “There’s no time for any of this. While we stand here debating–”

“It takes no time to bend the knee. Pledge your sword to her cause.” Tyrion interjects. 

“And why would I do that?” Jon snaps. He turns to speak to Daenerys. “I mean no offense, Your Grace, but I don't know you. As far as I can tell your claim to the throne rests entirely on your father's name. And my own father fought to overthrow the Mad King. The lords of the north placed their trust in me to lead them. And I will continue to do so as well as I can.”

“That's fair.” Daenerys notes. “It's also fair to point out that I'm the rightful queen of the Seven Kingdoms. By declaring yourself king of the northernmost kingdom, you are in open rebellion.”

Seeing that this “meeting” wasn’t going anywhere I stepped towards Daenerys. “Your Grace, I think it would be wise for us to take a break and resume at a later time, when we’re all a bit more level-headed.” 

Daenerys clenches her jaw before regaining her composure. “You must forgive my manners. You both must be tired after your long journey. We'll have baths drawn for you and supper sent to your rooms.”

She turns to her guards and instructs them in Dothraki to take them up to the guest rooms and to keep an eye on them. Before he leaves Jon asks her a question. 

“Am I your prisoner?” 

“Not yet.” 

As Jon and Ser Davos are led out the throne room Daenerys turns to walk back to the throne. There’s a pregnant pause in the air as all eyes are on Daenerys.

“Everyone except for Y/n leave.” 

Tyrion and Missandei look at one another and then towards me, concerned. I let out a sigh, raising my head and giving the two a reassuring nod. They both walk past me and I catch Varys looking a bit smug as he’s the last to leave. The stone doors shut close, leaving Daenerys and I alone. She turns back to me, seething. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She steps closer. 

“Daenerys..” I hesitated, not knowing what to say. “I didn’t think that they’d be so quick– I thought we had enough time to prepare.” 

Truthfully, it had taken a lot longer for the Army of the Dead to start marching towards the Wall. Could my arrival have changed events?

“Then what? When were you going to tell me? When this Night King is at our shores?” She takes a deep breath. “You said you’d tell me everything I needed to know. Clearly, that was a lie.” 

I shook my head, “no it’s not.” I stepped closer to her. “Yes it’s true there are things that I’m not telling you in full. But it’s for your own good. There are some things you need to learn on your own.” 

I took her hand in mine. “I swear to you, I will never betray you. You’re all I have in this world. You’re my only friend, my sister. Everything that I’m doing is for you, Daenerys” 

I held my breath and watched as she debated my words. After what felt like years, Daenerys nodded. “Alight.” 

She leans in, pressing her forehead against mine. “When I awoke this morning I thought I would have another ally, but it seems that I’ve made another enemy.”

I shook my head. “No. We need Jon. Not just for the Army of the Dead, but also for Cersei. Dany,” I leaned my head back. “Try to get to know him. To him, and the rest of Westeros, you’re an outsider. It doesn't matter that you were born here and that for hundreds of years your family have been every bit Westerosi as they are. You need to share your stories and see past this Targaryen-Stark nonsense. The people of Westeros– especially the north, look at Jon as the most honorable man, just like Ned Stark. If you can get him on your side, then you can get everyone else.” 

–––– 

I walked around the stone pathway around the castle, clearing my head. I needed to devise a new plan. One that would secure the North and bring a better light to Daenerys. 

In the past, or the future, whichever it is, Jon and Daenerys gradually get closer. It’s not after the death, and later resurrection, of Viserion do the pair really get close. They made a good pair, both romantically but as well as politically. Even after Jon’s true parentage was revealed, he stuck by Dany and reiterated his loyalty to her. If there was one thing that would solidify them together, protect Dany’s claim, and ally the North to us it’s–

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen.” 

I turned back to see Varys with the same smug smile he had when he left the throne room. 

“Fallen? Don’t make me laugh, Varys.” 

“But it’s true. You’ve failed Daenerys and soon she’ll find that she has no use for you and cast you aside.” 

I tried my best not to laugh. “If you really think that, then you’ve lost your damn mind.” I stepped closer to Varys, “I’m not going anywhere. And you can try to push me away, but know that it’s only going to end with you staring up at Drogon and Daenerys saying that one magical word.” 

I stepped to the side and walked past Varys, letting my shoulder hit his. “Watch your back, Spider.” 

I followed the northern path further up the cliffs where I spotted Theon Greyjoy looking out into the ocean. 

“Lord Theon,” I addressed the man. “I thought you had sailed back to the Iron Islands by now.” 

He bowed, surprised that I had found him. We made eye contact for a brief moment before he looked away. “No, My Lady. We needed more supplies and to repair our ship.”

“I see.” 

An awkward silence hung between us as Theon would periodically look up towards me before shying away. 

“Is something the matter?” My question seemed to have caught him a bit off guard. 

“Thank you, My Lady.” 

“You don’t have to thank me. We’re allies, we’re supposed to support and protect one another.” I replied. 

He lightly shakes his head. “No.” He purses his lips together. “When the ambush happened.. Yara was held hostage by Euron. He.. He was going to kill her. I got scared.. but your words, they helped me save my sister.” 

Oh. 

“Again, there’s no need to thank me.” I smiled. “You saved your sister, not my words. It took courage to fight for her and you found it. Don’t let what others say change that.” 

He gives me a small smile, letting my words sink in deep and I wondered if anyone had said anything nice to him since his capture and torture. His eyes shift past me and his smile wavers. I turn back to see Tyrion and Jon Snow staring daggers at Theon. 

“Oh fuck.” I mutter, watching the two men step towards each other. 

“Jon, is Sansa alright?” Theon genuinely asks. 

Jon grabs him by his armor's leather straps. “Don’t you dare say her name. You think that what you did for her would save you?”

“Stop it. Let him go.” I said, but he didn’t listen. Theon held onto Jons wrist but made no effort to push him away, seemingly accepting his fate. Jon’s face contorted with anger and grief and was close to plowing Theon’s face in. Tyrion looked at the two young lords wondering if there was going to be some brawl, or rather just Jon beating Theon to the ground.

“Stop at once!” I raised my voice. “This is Dragonstone and as long as you’re standing on this island you will conduct yourself accordingly. If you want to fight like children then fight in the ocean. Now, let go of him, Jon Snow.” 

Begrudgingly, Jon let go to Theon, giving him a push as he did so. Theon looked down as he straightened himself while Jon took a step back, staring daggers at him.

“We’re all allies here, regardless of what happened.”

“But my brother–” Jon tried to reason. 

“Is safe.” I reassured. “Bran is safe and alive. He was north of the wall, but he should be back in Winterfell soon.” 

Jon’s face was a mix of shock and disbelief. “How can you be so sure?”

“I just am. Your brother will be home soon, My Lord. But fighting amongst ourselves won’t help us in the slightest, especially for what's to come.” 

There’s a moment of silence between all of us before Jon nods and backs down. Without a word he turns back to the castle. Theon also left shortly leaving only Tyrion and I. 

“I believe that was the first time I’ve ever seen you raise your voice, My Lady.” He places his hands behind his back.

“If they keep squabbling like this then it won’t be the last.” I grumbled. 

Tyrion doesn’t say anything in return, only staring at the ground. 

“You have something to say?” 

Tyrion glances up, “how do you know that Bran Stark is alive?”

“Like I said, I just know.” I turned to face him fully. “Now, has Jon spoken to you about the Dragonglass?”

Tyrion’s taken aback. “How- right, you just know. Yes, he has. We were headed to speak to Daenerys before, well, all of this.”

“Good,” I nod. “Let's go.”

–––––

“Dragonglass?” Daenerys asks.

“Yes. Volcanic glass, obsidian.” Tyrion says. “He says you have a tremendous amount of it here.”

She turns to me for confirmation. I give her a nod, sitting back in my chair. “It’s down in the caves.” 

“And what does the King in the North want with Dragonglass?” She turns back to Tyrion. 

“Apparently it can be turned into weapons that can kill White Walkers and their foot soldiers, or stop them, destroy them. I’m unsure of the nomenclature.” 

“Only Dragonglass and Valyrian steel can kill White Walkers,” I clarified. “The caves below Dragonstone are filled with Dragonglass.” 

“It’s our only way to kill them.” Tyrion says. 

“And what do you think of this Army of the Dead and White Walkers and Night King?” Daenerys asks Tyrion.

“I’d very much like to believe that Jon Snow is wrong, but a wise man once said that you should never believe a thing simply because you want to believe it.” 

“Which wise man said this?” Daenerys raises a brow. 

“I don’t remember,” Tyrion replied innocently. 

“Are you trying to present your own statements as ancient wisdom?” Daenerys says. 

“I would never do that...to you.” He replies, bashfully. “The reason I believe Jon Snow is because he's here. All of his advisors would have told him not to come. I would have told him not to come, yet he's here anyway. You don't have to believe him. Let him mine the Dragonglass. If he's wrong it's worthless. You didn't even know it was here. It's nothing to you. Give him something by giving him nothing. Take a step toward a more productive relationship with a possible ally. Keep him occupied while we focus on the task at hand.”

Daenerys turns towards me. “What was that Ser Davos said about taking a ‘knife in the heart for his people’? Did you notice that?” 

I shrugged, “not my place, you know that.” 

A servant enters the chambers holding out a raven's scroll. I grabbed it, reading the contents before handing it off to Daenerys. 

“We should go.”

–––

The wind blew around us as Daenerys and I got ready for our departure. Not too long ago we had received a raven from the Unsullied and from the scouts we had sent over to Bitter Bridge to inform us of Lannister movement. As planned, Jamie was leading half of the Lannister forces from Casterly Rock to Highgarden.

“The fight to take the Rock will be easy,” I say climbing up onto Viserion. “With the new armor and weapons and the fact that they outnumber the Lannister force it will be an easy fight. 

“By the time the Unsullied captures the castle we will have reached Highgarden.” Daenerys says, sitting atop Drogon. Knowing what was to come we ordered our dragons to fly into the sky. 

The wind ripped past us, blowing my hair back. My hands gripped tighter to Viserions spikes, hunching down even further. I looked to my left seeing Daenerys and Drogon flying next to me, both looking determined as ever. The plan was simple; Daenerys and Drogon ambushes the Lannister force head on while Viserion and I sneak into the castle and help Olenna out to safety before I join the fight, and as a added measure, Tyrion and a few Dothraki would be with us to help in the fight. 

Drogon and Viserion dived down, the clouds parting away and revealing Highgarden. Even from up above we could see the soldiers on the ground. Daenerys and Drogon split off from Viserion and I. With a loud scratch and a burst of dragonfire, Drogon easily captures the attention of the enemy while Viserion flies to the back of the castle. He lands on the wall, the limestone crumbling beneath his talons. 

“Stay low and calm. I’ll be back soon.” I jumped off of Viserion. I watch as he flies down from the wall and hides from the enemy force. 

Carefully, I made my way into the interior of the castle. I drew out my sword ready for any surprise attacks. The halls were barren, safe for a few torches and tapestry that hung on the walls. I came down a set of stairs when I heard the sound of footsteps, a set of two. There's a muffled voice and then a set of footsteps walking away while the other set of footsteps came towards me. I hid behind a corner when I came face to face with a Lannister soldier. I took a step back and he lunged forward, aiming for my head. I side stepped, using the side of my sword to nudge him to the side and delivering a blow to his left. The steel easily cuts the small bit of him that wasn’t protected by his Lannister armor. He lets out a growl, growing more enraged. 

“Arg! You Targaryen bitch!” He plunges forward again with more force. He swings his sword towards me, but I’m quick to block it. He pushes against my own sword walking me backwards. My back hits the wall and he uses his full weight to try and pin me down.

The man gives a sickening smile, watching me struggle against him. “Once I’ve killed you ‘m gonna kill your fuckin’ dragons and then ‘m gonna fuck the Queen.” 

I recoil back into the wall feeling his rancid breath on my face. Quickly, I bring my leg up, using all my force and kneeing him in the groin. He jolts back, hunches over in pain and I quickly grab the back of his head, bringing his face down to my knee. There’s a loud crunch as his nose breaks against my armored knee. I push him back and plunge the sword into his neck, a loud and garbled scream ripped out of him. His wide eyes watched me pull the sword out of his neck, blood oozing and gushing out.

His body collapses against the stone floor with a thud. My chest plate raises and falls as I try to catch my breath. My entire body was on fire as I stared down at his body. I’d just killed a man. Technically speaking, he wasn’t the first I’d killed. I’d killed dozens of Eurons men, but that was up in the sky and by Dragonfire, not in a castle hallway with a sword. 

Once I had regained my breathing, I pushed his body back so it was out of view and quietly made my way further to where Olenna would have been. Right as I reach the doors, I hear a female and male voice, the same one that I had heard before I came across the Lannister soldier. I looked around for a place to hide, opting to hide between a pillar and a large stone planter. I hunched down to the ground as the oak doors opened and a man in Lannister gold stepped out, but what caught my eye was the golden hand. 

Jamie Lannister. 

Once his footsteps faded away I snuck into the room that he’d just come out of. An empty vile sat on the table and Olenna stood by the window, looking out at the gardens. 

“Came back to finish me off yourself?” 

“No, My Lady.” I replied. She turns around, surprised to see me. I pull out a blue vile of antidote towards her. “Quickly, take the antidote.” 

She shakes her head, “it’s too late for me now, my child.” She walks over to me, “tell your sister my time is now. I’ve already informed everyone in Highgarden to follow Daenerys’ command.”

I shook my head. “You can’t give up. Your house still needs you.” 

“My house is gone,” she squeezes my hands. “My children and grandchildren are gone. My dear Margery was all I had and that wretched Cersei took her from me. I have no one else.” 

“But don’t you want to get your revenge? Watch as Cersei loses the only thing she loved and succumbs to Dany’s dragonfire for all her crimes?” I pleaded. She shook her head again, patting my hand like a loving grandmother would. 

“My time is over, dear. If only my Margery had someone like you by her side she could have lived.” She turns back and sits down at the table. “Come, sit with me.”

I walk over to the table, sitting across from me. “Promise me that Cersei will suffer.” 

“I promise.” 

She places her hands on top of mine as we sit there waiting for the end.

a/n: so we're back :))

fun fact, actually, I've written up all the way to the Long Night lol, but I still need to refine and rewrite somethings.

how was this? how did we like the girlies fighting?

lmk ur thoughts !

@wotcherpeak @music-luver25 @your-favorite-god @radiantdanvers @cluelessteam @daenerys713 @ministark @laanswife @idohknow @jromanoff @bdudette @bitchyfestivalbouquet @glitteryobjecttaco @cantbecreative @lovelyteenagebeard @the0twst0shrimp0mc @sucker4seresin @marytargaryen @naneko31 @9tailedfoxfire @iilsenewman @ivyrose9194 @coffee-is-my-oxygen @mysterypotatoink @bitchycolletorvoid @nattysplatty @wifiatthetrainstation @nymeriiiia