#this is the only reason we need rise to come back so we can continue the legacy of drag mikey
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Workplace
Pairing: Dick Grayson/Nightwing x (f)reader
Tags: NSFW, secret identity, vigilante reader, office romance, fingering, kissing, biting, wounds, penetration, slightly toxic Dick Grayson,
"Holy shit, y/n?" A gruff voice called your name from across the police station. You turned away from your papers and in the direction the address was coming from, meeting a bloodshot wild gaze of a man who looked around your age. You didn't recognize him, who was currently in the middle of being escorted into a cell.
You didn't respond, assuming he confused you with someone else. He called you again, though. "Y/n! It's Spencer Van! We were in the fifth grade together-"
You met his crazy gaze again, raising your brow in question.
"Ms. Strums class!" He added.
You blinked, recalling the name of your fifth grade teacher. You began to recognize him. And your mouth twisted in disgust. You didn't remember much other than him being a piece of shit; bullying the smarter kids, and constantly interrupting your teacher during class. Not a person worth remembering.
Your grimace didn't deter him, though, as his gaze slowly studied you up and down. You began to regret your earlier decision to discard your blazer when his gaze landed on the undone top buttons of your blouse.
You hated going to the police station for this exact reason. The staff were nice, but the people they brought in... different story.
"Damn," Spencer groaned, his tongue sliding across his teeth. "You grew up gorgeous."
The blood drained from your face, and you felt nauseous. Now definitely swallowing bile. Detectives and staff were looking between you two as you took in a steadying breath and tried to avoid glaring at him.
"You like me like this?" Spencer continued, grinning a dirty, crooked smile and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "You like seeing me in handcuffs?-"
Before he finished his sentence, he was brutally shoved into the cell. The sound of the slam echoed throughout the station.
The detective who shut him up, Dick Grayson, stood towering, muscular, and gorgeous in his uniform, and your secret crush on him only grew. Dick barely broke a sweat while Spencer bounced off the wall and was now wheezing, struggling to get back up.
"You son of a bitch-" Spencer choked. "You fucking broke my rib!"
"Yeah?" Dick challenged. "Press charges when you're done serving ten years for drug trafficking. Prick." Then he slammed the cell door shut.
The rest of the room fell back into routine, the sounds of phone calls, walkies, filing papers, and conversations filling the air once more. Grateful for the change in pase, you returned to your documents.
"Ms. L/n, are you alright?" A low masculine voice you instantly recognized spoke behind you. You turned to see the detective. Sharp features and ocean-colored eyes pierced through your thoughts, catching you off guard. Your breath hitch at his size towering over you, while the smell of beachy cologne invaded your senses. His uniform hugged his body so well that you could almost see the defined muscle under the material.
"Yeah, thanks for hitting him." You stammered, your shoulders rising slightly.
"Sorry I didn't do it sooner." He frowned, his gaze flicking to Spencer, who still groaned in his cell.
You gathered your files. "Should we sit down to look over the Falcone case?"
"Yes, right." Dick gestured for you to take a seat at his desk. It was the only one in the room that wasn't covered in a million papers. Just his computer, a notepad, pen, and calculator lined up against each other in a tidy order, with a half finished cup of coffee sat on the corner. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?"
You shook your head. "Is there somewhere private we can talk?" Then, at his raised brow, you rushed to add. "I'll need to share some sensifitive information."
He nodded in understanding and got up, leading you down the hall. Your heels clicked behind him as he opened the door to a filing room lined with shelves. A single table and two chairs sat in the middle of it, illuminated by warm toned lights. The noise died down as he shut the door before pulling out your chair.
He spoke up as you sat down. "Late nights at the office, huh?"
You blinked, trying your best to look confused, also trying to cover the blush on your cheeks. "N-no. Why do you ask?"
He shrugged, offering you his signature joking smile. "From our email exchanges, you were originally supposed to come here yesterday. I was just curious why the last-minute change."
You shook your head, rushing. "Nope, I just... I wasn't feeling well."
"Oh no." Dick said, his brow creasing. His tone of worry hid a chuckle that was desperately trying to escape. You were such a bad liar. "I'm glad you're feeling better then."
"Yes, well," you took your seat, pulling out a series of photographs from your folder and placing them on the table for him to see. "Falcone met with the owner of MacKenzie Buildings in his club two nights ago."
Dick made a big show of studying the photographs, which he took himself two nights ago. "Hmmm."
You continued. "Yesterday, as you know, MacKenzie was found dead in his apartment."
Dick nodded along to your words, picking up a photograph to study it closer before frowning. His brows furrowed as he looked at the picture. "How'd you get these? Did you hire a P.I.?"
"Not exactly." You lowered your voice, eyeing the locked door behind you.
When you turned around, his blue gaze was narrowed at you. Questioning.
"I'd like to keep the source confidential."
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Two nights ago.
"I need to go use the ladies' room." You spoke over the music before getting off your date's lap. He grinned and nodded, barely acknowledging you as he was distracted with a pair of girls dancing on a tabletop.
You matched with the man on a hookup app an hour ago, suggesting this club to meet uo, and he was more than happy to go - probably thinking he was going to get lucky. In reality, it was just a cover.
As soon as you walked off the main floor, you headed for the back of the club and out to an alleyway behind the building. Unwrapping a balaclava from your wrist, you tied it around your face, hiding all of it, save your eyes.
Taking quiet steps in your combat boots on the gravel, you grasped at the bag slung across your shoulder as you spotted your opening. With a running start, you jumped up, grabbed onto the latter, and began to climb.
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Nightwing followed you for the fourth week in a row. This time, your escapades brought you to Falcone's nightclub, with some creep who wouldn't stop running his hands over the open back of your corset top. Dick had half a mind to knock him out there, and then each time you stiffened from his hand, brushing against your skin.
Wearing an all-black outfit which helped you blend in, you hiked your makeshift mask covering your face. You used the railings to scale your way up the roof with practiced ease.
Either gymnastics or calisthenics - if Dick had to guess. Or the mandatory self-defense classes at Gotham Law had incorporated parkour. Brushing his chin with his fingers, he perched casually on a nearby rooftop.
Silently lifting yourself up and positioning yourself on a rooftop that overlooked a large window, behind which Falcone and his men were gathered around a table. Dick watched you pull out a camera from your bag and begin to snap pictures. Like you were some kind of private investigator.
Dick watched patiently. He's seen you do this several times now. He was curious where this was heading this night.
Silence and the howl of wind replaced the clubâs thumping bass, and for a moment, you felt utterly alone - until you heard the faintest shuffle above.
Instantly, you rolled out of the way just as the guy's fist came down to the spot where you just were. You got up, hid your camera in your bag, and assessed the assailant. Only one. Good. That you can handle.
You dodge the following blow as well, dropping to your hands and swiping your leg under both of his, knocking him off balance. He went down fast, and you took out the taser you always had in your pocket, bringing it to his neck and activating it until his body began to shake. You held it long enough for him to pass out. Then, you held your hand to his neck, making sure you found his pulse, ensuring he was still alive and walked on, taking your camera back out. As you were snapping the pictures, what you didn't see were the two other bodyguards approaching you on the roof.
Good thing he did.
Out of nowhere, you were grabbed around your waist and flung onto a higher up rooftop, and away from the meeting. "Hey!-"
"Quiet." A deep voice growled against your ear.
When you two landed on another rooftop, you stumbled and caught yourself on the rubble. You turned around, facing your new assailant.
Momentary shock took over as you were met with THE Nightwing. The protector of bludhaven, glowering down at you with a disappointed look under his mask.
"Nightwing!" You choke out.
"The one and only." He confirmed.
You've never seen him in person, never mind standing inches away from him. Your initial shock wore off to make room for anger of your own. "Look... thank you for saving me, but I don't need your help."
He smirked like you just made a joke, then gestured behind you, tilted his chin. "Turn around."
Tentatively, you turned and faced the street, away from him.
"Look down, down at the alleyway." He said. "See those guys patrolling outside the club with their M16's?"
You strained your eyes, trying to see what he was referring to. "No..."
"Exactly." He came to stand side to side with you, taking something out or his utility belt and holding it up to you. Upon initial inspection, you concluded it was a lens of some sort, and you brought it up to your eye. The lens did show a pair of bodies walking back and forth behind a brick wall. Heat sensors.
Embarrased, you handed him the lens. You took a breath, steadying yourself under his intense gaze. Heart pounding, you wondered why his presence felt just as dangerous as comforting.
"It sucks. Doing what I do. Not everyone can." He said.
"I'm not trying to do what you do." You defended yourself. "I'm no vigilante."
"Why do you need these pictures?"
You follow his gaze down to the camera clutched in your hands. "That's confidential,"
He then stood face to face with you. Or rather, face to chest with his frame dwarfing you. "Are you a P.I.?"
"No." You huffed, hoping your raised brow will stop any more questions. "Thank you for saving me. See you around." Then you hopped down the rails and to the ground.
You pushed open the door to your apartment, stepping in still in your club clothing. The corset top was dirty and pulled out of your leather tights, which tore at some point during your escapades, and your feet were in immeasurable pain from walking in those boots all night. You were tired as you tossed your keys into a bowl and locked the door.
A man cleared his throat behind you. "So this is where you live," Nightwing stepped into your living room.
Your voice hitched, and you jumped, rushing to switch on your lights. You stumble over your heals and nearly fall. He caught you around your waist and stabilized you.
"What were you doing at Falcone's club?" He asked, eyes searching your apartment.
"Did you follow me?" You asked, tone incredulous.
"Didn't have to," he pulled up a piece of paper and held it to you.
Your eyes widened. "Is that my car insurance?"
"Mhmm," he nodded, walking to your kitchen and flipping through the papers on your counter. "Pro tip: when you go on patrol, don't bring ID. Otherwise, the mask becomes obsolete." He grinned and picked up an envelope. "Ah cute, your children's hospital donation went through."
You snatched the envelope from his hand. "Give me that! And get out of my house!"
He tisked and shook his head. "Not before you tell me when you were doing following Falcone."
"I- I already told you-"
"You told me fuck all." He interrupted. "Now, I know exactly who you are, miss. L/N I know everyone you've ever met and how to find them. Easily."
He stalked closer, the shadows of your dimly lit room casting sharp angles on his face. âNow ill ask you one more tim. What were you doing at Falconeâs club?â His voice was low, the threat behind it unmistakable, and for a moment, you wondered if Nightwing was as dangerous as the people he fought.
You gulped, straightening your neck. "Look, nightasshole-"
"Weak." He snorted.
"You're breaking and entering." You continued. "I could call the cops on you."
He grinned, wondering if he should let you, only for his phone ring when you dialed. Then, he set the idea aside. "That building you were on when you were snapping your pictures belongs to Falcone. You were on private property without permission. I'm sure a lawyer would know what the name for that is,"
Your shoulders sagged as you lowered your gaze. "Trespassing."
"Very good." He said. "So go ahead and place that call, y/n." He shrugged. "Tell them that Nightwing, identity unknown, address unknown, broke and entered into your house." You approached you, his tone sharpening. "Meanwhile, I'll place my own call. About Y/n L/n, from apartment 2a on 21 Nelson rd. For trespassing on Carmine Falconeâs private property. We'll see how long you get to keep your license."
Your eyes widened in shock. Would he really ruin your career over this? And all of a sudden, the mantle of "protector" became subjective in your mind. You swallowed nervously, regarding him with unease.
In a sudden move, you raised your knee, aiming straight for his groin, hoping to take him by surprise.
He was way ahead of you, and he dodged your knee along with the follow up attacking from your punches and kicks.
You were backed up against the wall, one of his hands easily held both your wrists above your head.
"Cute," he murmured, his voice mockingly soft, as though you're struggling amused him. "Should I be insulted that you think you can fight off BlĂźdhavenâs âprotectorâ? Those defense classes they make you lawyers take get worse and worse each year -"
You collided your forehead with his nose.
"Shit!" He swore, then huffed a laugh, raising his free hand to wipe at the trickle of blood trickling from his nose, and looked down at his hand. The distraction you hoped for wasn't effective as you struggled against his hold, which was rock solid.
"I think you broke my nose." He said as a matter of factly. "How's your head?"
"Fine!" You snapped at him, fighting to keep your vision from blurring at the edges. That was the wrong angle to use, you thought, cursing yourself for forgetting the lessons you got from your self-defense training.
"Yeah?" He sounded doubtful. "Not throbbing anywhere? Like over here," he gave a gentle tap to your temple.
"Ow!" The point he pressed shot excruciating pain throughout your head, and your vision blurred even more.
"Yeah, valiant effort on your part." He commented, his voice growing more and more muffled as you struggled to... to...
He snapped his fingers in front of your eyes. "Hey, hey, no. No falling asleep. You gave yourself a concussion."
"Get... out of my home," you slurred.
"Can't do that either." He sighed. "I'd be leaving you for dead." He grinned. "That wouldn't be very heroic of me."
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Well, this is certainly the most creative way he had to keep a woman up all night, Dick thought to himself, bringing the smelling salts up to your nose.
"Ah, christ!" You exclaimed, jerking away from the violent stench. "Why do you even have these with you?"
"You'd be surprised how often head injuries can occur in my line of work." He explained, putting them away. "I've had to keep myself awake after a lot of brawls."
You nodded, eyeing him wearily. It was so odd how casual he was acting about this entire situation. You felt like you were a prisoner in your own home, with him as a friendly warden.
"How's your nose?" You asked, your hands rubbing your temples to try and ease the pain.
"Eh," he shrugged, looking at his reflection on your phone. "I've had worse."
He demanded on staying until he confirmed you were better. When the throbbing stopped, he did a quick assessment of your vitals using some kind of gadget you've never seen before.
The following afternoon, you came back to a package resting on the pile of mail on your kitchen counter.
There was a note on top, scrawled in sharp, hurried letters: "Thank me later."
Suspecting who it might be from, you carefully turned the folder over, spilling its contentsâa stack of photos showing Carmine Falcone in a close conversation with Owen MacKenzie, the owner of MacKenzie Buildings.
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Present Day
"Let me guess," Dick said, arms crossed as he leaned against his desk. "Youâre suggesting thereâs a connection between MacKenzieâs death and his meeting with Falcone."
You nodded. "Just speculation for now, but itâs no secret Falconeâs been after those developments. I think he made MacKenzie an offer he didnât like, and the next dayâŚ"
Dickâs gaze narrowed, his fingers tapping idly against the edge of his desk. "So, what do you need from me?â
"You have access to the autopsy report," you replied, leaning forward. "If we can prove it was murder we can keep those properties out of Falconeâs hands.â
He studied you, scratching his head. "Thatâs making a lot of assumptions."
âWhich is why I came to you,â you pressed, holding his gaze.
He raised a brow, lips quirking in mild amusement.
"If weâre right, we could keep dozens of families from getting pushed out onto the streets," you said, more earnestly.
After a long beat, Dick sighed and nodded. "Iâll see what I can do."
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Later That Night
Either that concussion affected your memory, or it dulled your self-preservation instincts, Dick mused as he watched you. He couldn't fathom why you kept diving headfirst into life-threatening situations.
You climbed the scaffolding at an abandoned construction site, slipping past rusted barriers until you reached the eighth floor. Perched on a narrow ledge, you crept toward a makeshift office in the cornerâlittle more than a desk and chair surrounded by half-finished walls. Kneeling, you pulled out a lock-picking set and made quick work of the drawer, glancing over your shoulder once before opening it.
A low chuckle sounded behind you. "Not a shred of self-preservation in that little body of yours."
You jumped, heart pounding, and spun around to find Nightwing leaning casually against a support column, arms crossed over his chest.
"God," you muttered, trying to steady your breathing, "I thought you were a -"
"Bad guy?" He chuckled, tilting his head. "What exactly would you have done?"
"Maybe tase you," you shot back, turning back to sift through the documents in the drawer.
In two strides, he was beside you, looking over your shoulder at the papers. "What are we looking at?"
You glanced up at him, momentarily struck by his proximity. It took a beat too long for you to refocus, the sheer size and quiet intensity of him throwing you off balance.
"Iâm looking for a ledger or a blueprint - anything tying this site to MacKenzie."
Nightwing raised a brow. "The projectâs been transferred to Falcone. Announced just this morning."
"Do you believe that?"
He sighed, arms crossed. "Alright, trouble. Enlighten me - whatâs your theory?"
"You really need me to spell it out?" you asked, arching a brow.
He smirked. "You think Falconeâs behind MacKenzieâs death."
You nodded. "A friend in BlĂźdhaven is working on getting me his autopsy report, and - "
"Oh, a friend?" he interrupted with a teasing tone. "Mustâve gone through all the right channels to get that, yeah?"
You frowned. "Of course."
He leaned in, the playful spark still in his eyes. "You know, a real friend wouldâve gotten it for you just cus. No questions asked."
"Did anyone tell you." His voice was lower now, softer. "You have pretty eyes."
You stifled a blush, hoping your mask hid the heat rising in your cheeks. His gaze softened as it lingered on you, just a shade too long, his lips curling in a way that made your pulse quicken.
You were overcome with a need to defend Dick after Nightwingâs comment. "He's more noble than you," you said.
And oh god, if the irony alone didn't make Dick want to burst out laughing. Pull yourself together, he said to himself.
Thrown off, you glanced away, muttering, "Just⌠let me know if you see anything with MacKenzieâs name on it."
A low ding from the far end of the floor interrupted your sentence. You both froze, watching as the elevator doors slid open, and heavy footsteps echoed into the hollow silence. You quickly locked the drawer and put everything back in place.
Before you could even react, Nightwingâs arm was around your waist, pulling you back toward the edge of the building. He fired his grappling hook to the floor above, tugging you both up to safety. His hold on you was firm yet controlled.
Landing, you were acutely aware of every inch of him pressed against you, his gaze unreadable as he raised a gloved finger to his lips, signaling for silence. You swallowed, pulse racing, unable to tear your attention away from the solid, unyielding warmth of him beside you.
"Destroy every file on that table," a voice ordered. "Burn it all if you have to. I donât want any trace left of his fingerprints here."
Your eyes widened. Proof that MacKenzie had been involved after all. You looked up at Nightwing, who nodded, clearly understanding the gravity of the moment.
The voice spoke again, sending a thrill of hope through you. "And make sure they do the same over at the south location. We donât need loose ends."
Your eyes met Nightwingâs, urgency clear in your expression. There was still a chance to get evidence.
The smell of smoke drifted up from the floor below, mingling with the crisp night air as flames started licking up from the table and chair. You looked at Nightwing, panic flashing in your eyes. He didnât move until the elevator dinged again, signaling the menâs departure.
"We need to get to that second site," you whispered, barely able to contain your urgency.
Nightwingâs gaze hardened, his earlier playfulness replaced by a steely resolve. "I need to get there. Youâre going home."
"But-"
"No buts," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "You want to help these people? Stay out of sight and leave the dangerous work to me. Trust meâthis is my city."
For a moment, you considered arguing back, but something in his gaze warned you not to push him further. Instead, you gave a reluctant nod, allowing him to guide you away.
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There was a knock at your window.
You look up from your phone, already ready for bed in your pijama shorts and tube top. You see his outline through the glass as you aproach the window, already half-expecting bad news as you open it cautiously. You are met with BlĂźdhavenâs protector, leaning on the rail of your balcony, clutching his side, blood seeping through the cracks of his suit.
"Hey," he rasped, short breathes coming out of cut lips with a pained smirk as he raised a USB. "Got your evidence."
"Youâre bleeding," you said, your voice a mix of shock and concern.
"Only a little," he grunted, but when he stumbled, you caught his arm, guiding him inside before he collapsed entirely. "You should see the other guy."
He helped you remove the top of his suit, leaving him bare to his hips. You tried not to linger too much on the ridges of hard-defined muscles lining up his chest, arms and stomach - it was a challenging endeavor.
Your hands moved carefully as you cleaned the gash on his side, trying not to let your worry show. "You shouldâve gone to a hospital."
"They ask too many questions," he said with a wince but tried to smile. "And Iâd rather have you play nurse."
Huffing, you rolled your eyes, but his words sent your pulse racing. You could feel his breath close to your cheek as you look down, the faint brush of his gloved fingers against your arm as you worked.
"Ive got a first aid kit. One moment." You said, getting up and bringing the white box that was kept on the top of your bookshelf. You've had some practice stiching up wounds back when your little siblings would get scrapes on the playground. You even wanted to be a doctor when you were a kid. Before you decided studying law was more interesting. Especially in a city like Bludhaven.
He drew in a gasp as you carefully threaded the needle, stitching up his wound. Finishing up, you placed a gauze bandage around the affected area, tisking. "You should still go get it checked out."
His fingers gently wrapped around your wrist, making you look up at him. Your eyes flickered to his, and for a second, wondering what color they were behind his mask.
âYou dont need to worry about me,â he said softly, his fingers coming to play with the hem of your crop top. Your skin tingled where his touch brushed you. "But... I like that you do."
His words hung in the air, and your pulse raced as his gaze dropped to you lips, then back to your eyes.
âWe shouldnât-â you started, but before you could finish, his hand slid up under the back of your shirt, his warm fingers sending tingles along their path.
âI know,â he whispered, but then he pushed you towards him, lips pressing softly against yours.
Your hand moved to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. You took a moment to orocess the fact that you were kissing a stranger. It coukd be anyone under that mask. The need to know clawed at you.
"Nightwing?" You asked.
"Yes trouble?" He wispered, lowering his lips to lay kissed down your neck.
You felt your cheeks warm as your shoulders rose. "D-do you do this often? Sleep with people you save?"
He grinned then, nipping your earlobe as his hand, covered in calluses and scars reached around you, pulling you onto his lap. Gasping, you could feel his hardness on your silk shorts.
"Only when they take such good care of me." He asnwered, grinding up against you, brushing your sensitive clit in the process. "You know, to return the favor."
You gasped and he repeated the movement a few more times, until you were riding him still separated by your layer of clothing.
"You're gonna open-" You wimpered when a particularly long brush of his Dick sent a powerful sensation down your core. "-Your stitches. This... this isn't a good idea."
"It's a good thin% that you're here to fix me up then, isn't it?" He challenged, an evil grin playing at his lips.
You moaned and shook your head, still trying to think logical. "It will hurt."
"It hurts more not being inside you now, trouble." He wispered- no, whined- as his lips brushed your ear. "Please, put me out of my misery."
His finger slipped under your shorts and between your folds. "Fuck!" He caught his lower lip between his teeth, the bit leaving a beautiful read mark on his gorgeous lips. "You're so wet, trouble."
Unable to look away from him, you whimpered as his fingers brushed your insides.
"I dont even know who you are," you wispered in disbelief, more so to yourself than to him. "I don't even know your name,"
A small, curious part of him wondered how you'd react if he pulled off his mask and presented you with the very same face that's been working with you this past week at the station. Your "good friend" detective Grayson.
"I'm no one," he said instead. "Come here, baby."
A minute later, his suit was discarded on your carpet, along with your pijamas, as the two of you gasped and writhe against each other on your couch. You were riding him, the feeling of him filling you up was extacy. And his view provided him with an image of you panting on top of him, red lips parted as your hair fell in messy stands around your face and shoulder. "Trouble," he moaned. "You're so fucking sexy. Oh my god."
"Thanks, you like... a seven." You joked, then squealed, arching your back as he rose and bit your collarbone, driving into you hard.
"For that," he growled, a wolfish grin playing on his lips as he eyed the new bite mark forming on your skin. "I'll keep you up all night."
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"Y/n?"
You looked up from your computer to see your co-worker standing nearby, balancing a cup of coffee and a stack of files. She offered you a shy smile.
"Detective Grayson from the station is here for you."
"Oh, thank you!" you replied, quickly standing and smoothing your skirt and blazer. Nearly tripping in your heels, you mentally scolded yourself for coming to work instead of calling in sick; you couldâve used more sleep.
At the front entrance, Dick waited in uniform, coffee in hand, his usual bright smile already in place.
"Good morning," you greeted him with as much energy as you could manage.
"Morning," he replied, grinning. You couldnât help but wonder what he put in his coffee to always look so chipper.
He held up a folder. "Here are the autopsy reports you asked for."
Your eyes lit up. "You got them? Amazing!" Taking the folder, you looked up at him gratefully. "Thanks, Dick."
"Happy to help," he said, dimples appearing as he smiled down at you. "Iâve got to get back, but let me know how the case goes, yeah?" He turned toward the elevator, giving you a casual wave.
"I will! Have a great day!"
As you watched him leave, someone cleared their throat behind you. Turning around, you found Lily standing there, a slightly nervous expression on her face.
"Hey," you said slowly. "Is everything okay?"
Saying nothing, she took your arm gently and lifted her phone, angling the camera so you could see yourself in selfie mode.
Your hand shot to your mouth in shock.
Clear as day, a bite mark peeked out from your collarbone. "Oh god."
You felt your face heat up as realization hit. How many people had already seen that? And oh god! Dick definitely saw it too!
Meanwhile, in the elevator, Dick allowed himself a small, satisfied grin.
#batman#batboys#dick grayson smut#smut#dick grayson imagine#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson#nightwing x you#nightwing imagine#nightwing x reader#nightwing
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you know you'd think out of all the mikeys, it would be rise to canonically wear a dress
but no
he's like the only tv show mikey who Doesn't wear a dress
#mikey is literally a drag queen i do not accept constructive criticism#this is the only reason we need rise to come back so we can continue the legacy of drag mikey#michelangelo hamato#tmnt#teenage mutant ninja turtles#tmnt 1987#tmnt 2003#tmnt 2012#tmnt 2018#rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles
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contents: general bakugou x princess reader; fem + afab virgin reader. nsft; oral (f receiving) & missionary. semi-sequel to this drabble. 3.2k.
Your wedding day arrives far earlier than you are prepared for.
Itâs a tense affair, for you at least. The country depends on it, and you feel the scheming eyes of the nobility hot on your skin as you pronounce your vows to Bakugou. They will not take kindly to your having chosen him over their sons and brothers, over their own desire to rise to power. There will be a price they will want you to pay, soon enough.
The chapel is resplendent with sumptuous decor, the court in their finest. But the room is fringed with Bakugouâs men in their military leathers, a reminder that this is not a happy day, but rather a dangerous political stunt. It keeps the noble houses docile while they are in the room with you, but you know they will return to their estates and their plans.Â
Your fate is in Bakugouâs hands, now, in more ways than one.
The ceremony is dizzying, and impossible to wrap your head around. The preceptor pronounces Bakugou your prince-consort, ostensibly to remain so while you assume the throne after your fatherâs passing. You will continue to rule him as his sovereign. But your vows to Bakugou also promise him your obedience as his wife.Â
It is a contradiction, an impossible trap, the very reason why the general is the only man you could stomach the thought of marrying. If a husband is to rule you after all, Bakugou will do so justly.Â
The thought does not stifle your nerves, however, as you make your way back down the aisle, sit down to the reception, and take your meal. A disquieting, anticipatory feeling settles over you, fizzing under your skin. You barely pick at your dinner, and drink too much of the wine.
You can tell Bakugou notices, scarlet gaze ever-perceptive, though he does not say anything until you are shepherded to the bridal suite to consummate.
Various aides try to follow you in to prepare you, but Bakugou slams the door closed on them, propping it shut with one broad shoulder. He barks at them to scram.
âLord Generalâthat is, Your Highness,â one of them stutters through the door. âWe are required to witness the consummationâto verify that it is complete.â
A bolt of shame goes through you at this, and you catch hold of one of the intricately-carved wooden bed pillars. Bakugou grunts, holding the door closed with one palm while spinning to the nearby dressing table and chair. He grabs the chair, wedging it forcefully up under the door handle.
âYouâll be sure of consummation when Iâm done here,â he growls through the door. âDonât need you little fucking perverts making eyes the whole damn time. Now beat it.â
A weird sound escapes you, something between a gasp and a laughâat his promise, at his gruffness.
âYour Highness,â comes a plaintive entreaty through the door. Bakugou slams a fist against it, and you hear a squeal and a sound like someoneâs fallen over their feet.
An absurd laugh seizes you, and Bakugou eyes you pettishly.
âThe fuckâre you laughing about,â he says, but thereâs no heat in it.
Your fingers twist on the bedpost, nervously tracing the lines. âYouâre taking to your new post well.â
Bakugouâs features twist into something dangerously satisfied, a smirk painting his mouth. Your breath comes short.
âMy post,â he echoes, raising an eyebrow. âAs your husband.â
Your stomach swoops. The disquiet flames back to life under your skin, settling heavy in your gut like a stone.Â
âI supposed it is a post like any other,â you say, fixing your gaze on the ground. âThere are responsibilities and⌠marital duties.â
You hear the soft tread of Bakugouâs boot as he steps away from the door, the rustle of his doublet as he draws closer. His many medals and ceremonial sword belt clink softly. It is a fashion you know he does not prefer, always living in his shirtsleevesâthe better to fight in, to train in.
A calloused hand takes your chin, tipping your face up to his.
âYou nervous, Princess?â he asks. His tone is obnoxious, as usual, but his crimson gaze traces your face.
You barely suppress a shiver under his touch. Your stomach churns with a thousand emotions and you find you donât know how to feel. Relieved that youâve made it this far. Annoyed with Bakugouâs composure and general manner. Apprehensive about what is to come. And warm, suddenly, all over. You do not want to examine why.
âNonsense,â you sniff.Â
A feral smile curls the corner of Bakugouâs mouth like he sees right through you. âYouâve never been with a man.â
Your face burns but you force yourself to return Bakugouâs assessing stare. âIâve never been to Musutafu, either, but I know it well enough. I should think I am⌠prepared.â
Something hot alights in Bakugouâs gaze, burning like a coal. Itâs not unlike how he looked at you that night in the dark outside his chambers, when youâd first come to him with this wild proposal.
âAnd what do you think you know,â he says, flatter than a question.
Your nose grows hot. âEnough.â
A thumb slides along your jaw, settling against the pulse in your neck. âAnswer the question, angel.â
Your face just might be on fire. You steel yourself, reciting dispassionately. âYou will undress me and then⌠enter me. I shall lie stillâthey say you can breathe through the pain and it will go away after some time. You will⌠work yourself to completion. And then we shall be done.â
A snort comes from Bakugou. âIs that how you royal tightasses do it?â
You feel your eyes narrow. âThat is how everyone does it.â
Your ladies in waiting had been very emphatic. All of them had spoken of the same mechanics. The initial discomfort, the pain, the way a husband moved upon his wife until he was satisfied.
âYou donât know shit, Princess,â Bakugou says.
You reach up to pull his hand from your face, but he tenses, arm growing solid and immovable.Â
âExplains why all you nobles are such fucking tight-buttoned pricks if thatâs how youâre doing it.â
Your reply is startled out of you when his hand finds your waist. You take a step back, and then another, startling again when your back finds the wall. Bakugou follows you, eyes hot.
âYou are insufferable,â you inform him hotly. âI am sure of the matter.â
âYouâre always sure of a lot of things, Princess,â he says. His hand is back at your waist, and suddenly all your skin feels too hot and tight, stifling like a velvet dress in summer.
âI am sure you are the most obnoxious man on earth,â you say. âNow be quiet and commence with it. Letâs have done with it.â
Bakugouâs face is suddenly closer than youâd remembered it being.
âIâll have done with you alright,â he says. âBut Iâm not gonna do it like you little uppity prudes.â
You find you canât think of what he means, all of your thoughts clouded with his proximity, the feeling of his hand moving to your skirts.
âIâbut there is only the one way,â you manage. None of your ladies had mentioned anything else.
Bakugouâs mouth cuts into a smirk again, and you hate him for how pretty it is.Â
âWeâll fuckinâ see about that,â he says.
And then his mouth is pressed to yours.Â
Itâs nothing like the stilted peck youâd been obliged to give him at the ceremonyâone that still left your face burning, for some unknowable reason. This feels entirely different in its intensity. Bakugouâs mouth is hot and soft and tempting and eager, and your body thrills with it.
Every inch of your skin feels like it zings with lightning when he licks into your mouth, and he presses you harder into the wall. You feel his groan all the way down to your toes.
âBâakugou,â you pant when his mouth leaves yours, only to stifle a yip when he moves down to your throat. He sucks a mark there, laving over it with his tongue, and you feel like you're melting in his hands. âThatâsânot myâah!âmouth,â you manage.
The tiniest scrape of teeth has you yelping again, and you find yourself clutching his bicep for purchase.
âNo shit,â he says, leaving another mark lower, mapping his way towards your chest. Calloused fingers come up to cup one of your breasts, thumb swiping over your nipple through your stays. You catch hold of his hair, yanking a fistful of that flaxen blonde, clenching your thighs together.
âWhat are you doing?â you hiss.Â
Bakugou looks up at you, expression annoyed. âConsummating.â
âBut youâre not undressing me,â you say. âAnd shouldnât weâon the bed?
Bakugou raises a blonde eyebrow. âThey tell you it needs to be on a bed, too?â
You blink, momentarily disarmed. It was quite literally called sharing the marriage bedâwhere else were you supposed to do it?
âAre you sure weâre talking about the same thing?â you eventually ask him.
Both of Bakugouâs eyebrows shoot for the moon, and he looks very suddenly like he wants to laugh. A grin yanks at his mouth, sharp and beautiful.
âI knew youâd be a fucking handful,â he says, his tone somehow both annoyed and delighted. âDonât even know what the fuck youâre talking about and youâre still trying to give me orders.â
You yank at the fistful of his hair youâre still clutching and he hisses, hand shooting out to grab yours. He works your grip off of him, pinning your wrist to the wall. The air in the room suddenly feels a hundred times thicker, like trying to breathe through honey.
âListen closely, Princess,â he tells you, leaning in. âWe're going to consummate, alright. But Iâm not just gonna squeeze my eyes shut and stick it in. Iâm going to do what I want first, and youâre going to be good and let me.â
Your face ignites in flame. You want to disagree reflexively. âIf itâs going to be painful Iâd rather just have it over with, if you donât mind,â you say.
Bakugou stares back, scarlet gaze roving over you. âItâs not gonna be if you shut up and let me do what I want.â
You blink. You hadnât heard that there was a way around the painâwhy hadnât anyone told you?
âIâreally?â you ask.
Bakugou nods. âReally.â
âOh,â you say. âWell then⌠you may proceed, I suppose.â
âYou suppose,â he echoes, staring you down. The look on his face makes you want to lean forward and bite it off.
âWell get on with it,â you say, arching your eyebrows.
Bakugou looks for a moment like he wants to shake you. But he ducks his head instead, lowering his mouth to yours again.
âGonna fuck that bossiness right out of you,â he mutters, low like heâs promising himself and not you. But then he kisses you again, muffling your gasp in his mouth.
Youâve never kissed another man, and do not have a frame of reference for what heâs doing. But Bakugou is a good kisser, you think. Every flick of his tongue feels like someone has uncorked champagne and poured it beneath your skin, and every brush of his mouth against yours sends a liquid heat racing through your veins.
You moan into his mouth when calloused fingers delve beneath the collar of your gown, dipping into your stays and pinching a nipple. He rolls it carefully, and you arch against him without any say-so from your brain.Â
âBeen thinking about this, Princess,â he says. âEver since I saw you in that little nightdress. Gonna show you what it really means to be with a man.â
Youâre excused from answering by his mouth back on yours. Not that you think you could, with the way his fingers feel in the cups of your stays, or the press of a strong thigh between your own.
âBakugou,â you gasp when he peels off of you, only to sink to his knees before you.
âItâs Katsuki,â he says, busying himself with the hem of your skirts.Â
âBâKatsuki,â you say. âWhat are you doing?â
Long fingers roll up the hemline of your dress, then yank at your underthings, exposing you to him. You gasp again, moving to cover yourself, but Bakugou pins you to the wall with an arm across your stomach, catching your thigh and pulling it over his shoulder.
âHusbandly duties,â he replies, another smirk on his mouth.
And then your head thunks against the wall as that mouth moves, pressing to you.
âKatsuki!â you shout, biting off into an embarrassing moan when he laves over you. No one had told you about this partâabout how a manâs mouth there would make you feel like fireworks had just been lit off in your veins. About how a manâs mouth could even go there at all.
Bakugou doesnât reply, kissing you there as he had your lips. A delicate suck from him over the cleft of you has you arching in his hands again, and you can quite literally feel him smirking against you.
He works you thoroughly, licking and sucking for what feels like torturous hours, but must only be minutes, until youâre a writhing, panting mess, only held upright by the arm he has banded across your lower stomach. Thereâs a pressure rising within you, pooling in all your limbs, making you shake and shiver with it, and what feels like no way to release it.
âKatsukiâI feel strange,â you say, bucking against his mouth. âOhâoh!â
âJust hold on, sweetheart, and let yourself feel it,â Katsuki tells you, before licking back over you. A finger presses up inside of you, foreign but strangely good in conjunction with his mouth. Then another one presses in and they curl as if seeking something, making you twist in his grip.
And then something makes you jerkâthe press of Katsukiâs fingers inside you in just the right spot, while he sucks on you, feeling like heâs touching the same place inside of you from both sides.
Something inside you snaps, uncoiling, pleasure flooding down you like a mudslide. You cry out Bakugouâs name, tears in your vision, riding out your pleasure against his mouth. Bakugou licks you through it, groaning low in his throat with appreciation.
âThatâs it, Princess,â he says, tone rough. âNow youâre ready for consummation.â
You hear his words as if through a haze, and itâs only once youâre movingâbeing picked up and carried over to the bedâthat you register what heâs saying.
He frees himself from his breeches, and stretches out over you, kissing your mouth. Youâre embarrassed to taste yourself on him, but the press of him to you overrides that concern. In one smooth stroke he presses in, and you are shocked to find that he slides home easily, your core slick and ready.
It feels strange, but not at all unpleasantâabsolutely nothing like what theyâd told you.
âYou alright, Princess?â Bakugou asks.
âIâyes,â you say, voice fluttering off when he flexes his hips, moving inside of you. The slide of him inside of you is unexpectedly good, especially when he lowers a hand to your core, pressing a thumb to that bundle of nerves at the hood of you.
âFeel good?â he asks, his eyes hot on your face. You cling to him, hips lifting into him unthinkingly as his thumb pets over you again, as he presses in and out of you a few more times.
You nod, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of saying it aloud.
He grins anyway, feral and fever-bright. His pace picks up into something faster, and youâre embarrassed to hear the slap of him against you, the eager way your body welcomes him in.
The band of pressure builds up inside you again, slowly, with every sure stroke of Bakugou inside you. Heâs hot and hard and heavy over you, pressing you into the mattress, and the tops of his cheeks are flush with effortâthe way he looks sometimes when heâs just come in from the training pitch.
Heâs beautifulâhandsome and strong and hot-headed and determined. And it dawns on you that heâs yours nowânot just your subject but your husband, your prince consort, and now your lover.
It makes all your skin turn molten hot again, especially when you look down and see your knees have rucked his shirt up. You can see the flex of his abs as he thrusts between your thighs, all that golden skin and dense muscle.
The slide of him inside you and the sight of him over you is suddenly too much, and you feel yourself tip right over the edge again. Bakugou catches your hand as you lift it to muffle your cry, kissing over your knuckles.
âThatâs it, Princess, thatâs it,â he says again, ducking his head to kiss you.
You moan into his mouth as he fucks you through it, and he groans with the clench of you.
âFeel so fuckinâ good,â he says against your lips, pace picking up faster. âKnew you would, sweetheart, yeah.â
Embarrassingly you feel almost like you could come apart again with the praise. Bakugou groans once more, and you can hear his grip tighten in the blanket next to your head. His hips buck and flex, wildly uncontrolled now, until he gives one final hard thrust.
His weight pins you down when he relaxes over you, his breath tickling over your shoulder. You find you like the weight of him on you, covering you, like a shield against the rest of the world.
Apt, for a general.
âBetter than how you wanted to do it, wasnât it, Princess?â he asks, smug.
You scoff, but you catch the flash of a white grin in the corner of your vision. There is really no question that heâd had the better of it, this time.
âKnew youâd see it my way,â he says.
Over him, you can hear the flutter of feet outside the door, some muffled discussion. Heat rises to your face when you realize the castle aids most definitely heard you cry out under Bakugouâs ministrations. There will be no doubt of your consummation now, regardless of whether you were observed.
âNosy fuckinâ perverts,â Bakugou says, rolling off of you. You catch another flicker of his chest with the way his shirt gapes, and he looks doubly smug when he notices.
âNot done yet, angel?â he says.
âI am, thank you.â You flush, embarrassed at having been caught. But Bakugou stretches an arm out to yank you over him, pressing you down over his hips.
Your stomach flutters.
âGive me a couple more minutes, Princess,â Bakugou says, scarlet eyes flashing with heat once more. His hand raises to trail through your hair, catching in the wedding hairstyle theyâd pinned you into.Â
âFive more minutes,â your new husband promises you, with a grin like the devil. âAnd then we'll give them something to really listen to.â
#bakugou x reader#bakugou x you#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugo x reader#bakugou katsuki x reader#bnha x reader#bakugo x you#character: bakugou katsuki#andie's writing
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iâm visualizing a fic where reader goes off to fight with their dragon and comes back to jace being furious that she would endanger herself and feelings are revealedâŚ. can you make that happen? xxđ
Request: Being dragonseed and getting close to jace during the trainings. Maybe she claimed silverwing or vermithor? She goes to battle while he is not there and jace is STRESSED
Request: Jace sneaking out to check on the girl he secretly loves
my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time
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When Jacaerys took it upon himself to teach and train the dragonseeds, he didnât think his loyalty to his betrothed would be challenged. Since the beginning of war, his bond with Baela became stronger and they got closer, but as he watched you atop Silverwing, hair in the wind and soaring over the water, he felt things he never felt before.Â
Was it the blood of the dragon, although thin, that was calling to him? Or was it the sight of a woman on a large dragon? Jacaerys couldnât tell. What he knew was that he never felt that way when Baela was riding Moondancer.Â
ââWhat do you mean, she went to the Riverlands?ââ he shouted at his mother, all manners forgotten.
Rhaenyra met his glare with a calm gaze. ââThe Greens are marching up to Harrenhal. I sent her to meet their army before they reach the Riverlands.ââ
ââAnd what of Vhagar?ââ Jacaerys continued, his voice rising as he thought of the beast that had devoured his little brother and his dragon in a single bite. ââThey know Daemon has taken Harrenhal. Undoubtedly, they brought their biggest dragon to fight him.ââ
Rhaenyra hummed thoughtfully. ââIt is a high possibility, but Silverwing is a large dragon, as you said yourself. Y/N will handle Vhagar if Aemond dares showing up.ââ
ââShe is not ready to go to battle.ââ Jacaerysâs fists clenched at his sides, making up the worst scenarios in his mind. ââYou sent her to her death!ââ
ââI needed to send a dragon. It was Silverwing or Vermithor.ââ
ââWhy did you not send Vermithor?ââÂ
ââBecause I didnât want to reveal our biggest asset to the enemy,ââ Rhaenyra said, her brow furrowing as she noticed her sonâs agitation. ââWhy are you so agitated? The dragonseeds were your idea, Jace. We have to send them on the battlefield at some point.ââ
The reasons the search for dragonseeds began was to get more dragons on their team, but also to not risk their own in battle by using those with blood 'thinner' than their own as fodder. It was selfish and evil, but losses are inevitable during a war. Better be a stranger than someone you love.Â
But now, his plan had backfired.
ââSheâs not just a dragonseed!ââ Jacaerys snapped, his eyes blazing with anger and worry. ââSheâsâââ He stopped himself, realizing how much he had revealed in his fury and the implication of what he was about to say.Â
Rhaenyra spoke his name softly, finally figuring the nature of her sonâs worries, but he turned away, unable to look his mother in the eye.Â
â
When night came, Jacaerys was unable to sleep, tossing and turning in his bed. All he could think about was you fighting against VhagarâŚand losing.Â
If you didnât return from the Riverlands, he would never forgive himself for encouraging you to claim Silverwing.Â
Finally, Jacaerys could not take it anymore. He sprung out of his bed, changed into his riding clothes and slipped on a cloak. Quietly, he sneaked out of his quarters and started heading towards the hills where he knew Vermax liked to sleep. Rhaenyra would be furious in the morning when finding out he went to the Riverlands without her approval, but he needed to go to you.Â
ââLyka (quiet), Vermax,ââ Jacaerys said as he mounted the dragon, not wishing to alert anyone of his nightly adventure. The poor thing was whining and confused why his rider was waking him, but obeyed his command.Â
They set out into the night, flying towards the northwest. The wind was cold, biting through Jacaerys' cloak, and the darkness was absolute with no moon to guide their way. The only sound was the rhythmic beating of Vermax's wings, cutting through the icy air.
After what felt like hours of flying blindly in the night, Vermax began to screech, a high-pitched, urgent sound that pierced the silence.
ââSagon g��da (be calm), Vermax,ââ Jacaerys commanded, trying to calm his dragon. But Vermax continued screeching, his eyes darting around as if he had seen something human eyes couldnât. ââWhat is it, Vermax?ââÂ
Vermax's screeches grew louder, more insistent, and Jacaerys felt a surge of unease. He strained his eyes, peering into the inky blackness, but saw nothing. He knew that dragons had senses far keener than humans, capable of detecting things long before they were visible.
ââWhat do you see?â he muttered, more to himself than to Vermax, as he tried to understand his dragonâs distress.
Vermax couldn't understand the common tongue, but his behavior made it clear that something was wrong. He twisted his head, sniffing the air, and let out another screech, this one more urgent and filled with warning.
Jacaerys suddenly realized what it could mean: Vermax had detected the scent of another dragon.Â
His heart pounded in his chest as he tightened his grip on the reins, scanning the dark skies for any sign of movement. The thought of encountering Vhagar in the pitch-black night sent a shiver down his spine. He tightened his grip on the handles, trying to steady both his dragon and himself.
Then, through the darkness, he saw a faint, silvery glimmer. Realization struck him hard.Â
ââSilverwing,ââ he breathed, understanding now what Vermax had sensed.Â
Immediately, Jacaerys commanded Vermax to descend. He didnât know where he was, but he knew that he had not reached the Riverlands yet. If Silverwing was down here, it could mean you were injured. Dragons were known to stay by their rider's side and guard them when they were vulnerable â or dying.
The prince's heart raced as they descended, his mind filled with worry. As soon as Vermax touched ground, he dismounted and scanned the area frantically, searching for you.Â
Silverwing screeched loudly when Jacaerys got close, the sound stirring you from your sleep and snapping into alert. You reached for your dagger sheated at your hip, ready to stab whoever would try to get close.
ââItâs me,ââ Jacaerys quickly said before you could touch him.Â
ââPrince Jacaerys?ââ you said with a frown. ââHas Her Grace sent you looking for me?ââ
Jacaerys stayed silent. His mother did not care much for you â or any of the dragonseeds.Â
The sight of blood on your hands sent his heart into a frenzy. ââAre you hurt? What has happened?ââÂ
He kneeled beside you, and you let out a small hiss. ââI'm not on my deathbed, my Prince,ââ you reassured. ââI saw the Green's army marching to the Riverlands. They were definitely surprised to see a new dragon had been claimed by the Blacks. I engaged in battle, burning several of them, but their archers started shooting arrows at us. Silverwing dodged them the best she could, but I received one in my legâŚââ You glanced down where the arrow used to be, blood seeping through your clothes and down your leg. ââI know I should not have taken it out, but the pain was too much.ââÂ
ââItâs okay.ââ Jacaerys drew his sword to cut a piece of his cloak to make a bandage for your leg. ââAll that matters is that youâre alive.ââ He began wrapping the piece of his cloak tightly around your wounded leg, but not so tight it would cause you more pain. ââIâŚI was worried about you.ââÂ
You raised an eyebrow at the prince. ââMe?ââ
He looked at you for a moment, his gaze flickering between your face and your wounded leg. ââDon't do that again. Going alone in a battle. What is Vhagar had been there?ââ
ââWhy? Because Iâm a woman?ââÂ
ââNo.ââ Jacaerys shook his head. ââNo, thatâs notâ When I didnât see you at training this morning, I thought you were in the village helping your parents with the sheeps. But Baela informed me that you had been sent to the Riverlands at first light to meet the Greens and all I could think about was Rookâs Rest. What Vhagar did to Luke, and Rhaenys⌠Gods, if you were the next to fall, I would not handle it.ââ
You huffed, not believing him. ââArenât I just a paw in your motherâs war? Iâm not stupid, my Prince. Dragonseeds donât matter to Her Grace. She just want the power of our dragons.ââÂ
ââI care. I care about you. I care so much about you that I could not sleep without knowing if you were okay. I would not have taken flight in the middle of the night if I didnât care about you.ââ
His words hung in the dark night, the air filled with his confession. Your heart stuttered in your chest as you processed his sudden confession. This conversation felt like forbidden territory. You were a shepherdâs daughter and he was a highborn prince, betrothed to a princess.
ââYouâŚyou shouldnât say things like that,ââ you finally murmured, averting your eyes from the intensity of his gaze. You tried to hide the fact that his words made you feel things you shouldnât.
Jacaerys took a deep breath, then slowly reached out to tilt your chin, his fingertips gently tracing over your skin. ââI should, because itâs how I feel.ââ He leaned closer. His fingers grazed your cheek, his touch sending shivers down your spine.
ââWhat of Baela?ââ you managed to ask, your heart beating wildly in your chest, torn between desire and loyalty.
He shook his head, his gaze locked with yours. ââI donât feel strongly for Baela the way I do for you,ââ he confessed.
â
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Chemical Override (bonus chapter 2) - August!
Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader
a/n: this sweet one is set just before they broke it off (or rather, before the reader stomped all over his heart) in part five!
series masterlist âŞď¸ main masterlist
August! (... slipped away into a moment in time)
It's a fine morning, albeit lazy, you and Ewan having done nothing but lay in bed and talk and cuddle.
Granted, you did a lot more than talk over the course of the night. And this continued in the morning, with Ewan gently coaxing you out of sleep in need.
He's been insatiable, not that you can blame him. You two are finally together, after months of dancing around each other, your friends in eager anticipation to see how the 'will-they, won't they' dynamic will culminate.
They'll be pleased to know that it all led up to the best date you've had so far, followed by a night of bodies burning for the other, marking their territory in the throes of pent-up desire.
Ewan was sure he would remain the gentleman, merely driving you back to your hotel and calling it a night.
But you had invited him upstairs for a nightcap. Maybe some tea, as the Brits do. Needless to say, the tea was quickly forgotten, along with any reservations he might have about simply having you.
The haze of it hasn't subsided. Clad in nothing but undergarments, your limbs are tangled with his under the sheets as you watch the newly released New York foods video he did with Tom a while back.
"Baby?" you say, running your fingers through his hair as he has his head propped on your thighs. The screen plays on, showing the lads thoroughly enjoying some New York City hotdogs.
"Hmm?" he responds, his voice hinting at how soothed he feels from your touch.
"You're such a baby."
"What?" He twists his neck to shoot you a look of betrayal. Adorable.
"I bet those chips weren't even that spicy," you say, rolling your eyes. "I would have devoured those jalapeĂąo chips."
"They were spicy!" He leans against his forearm, which he quickly positioned on your thigh without thinking, causing your muscle to spasm from the sudden weight.
"Ahhh, Ewan!" you wriggle your legs. "Get off, get off..."
"Shit!" He bolts upright, immediately kneading the flesh with his palm. "Sorry, baby. Here, where does it hurt?"
You sigh audibly. "Oh, you." You narrow your eyes at him playfully, trying to look all tough, but apparently he takes it as a cue to press his lips to yours.
It's warm, a bit sloppy, your breaths stale from wine drank over the course of the night. And you don't mind at all.
He croons in your ear, "How do I make it up to you?"
"It's fine, I was only kind of messing - "
"Come now, darling, anything."
He gazes at you, awaiting an answer. In the background, you hear his voice saying, The Fuegos... I didn't like them, as the video comes to a close.
I saw your eyeballs sort of pop out your head a little bit, Tom says in response.
This is going to be fun, you think, smiling evilly to yourself.
Rising to your knees on the bed, you loudly declare, "Today, my love, you will conquer your fears and eat my favourite spicy food."
"Nooo!" He shakes his head right away, already plotting how to get out of this predicament. "Baby, please make me do anything else. I can't handle my spice!"
"My mind is made up."
"What if I do that thing that made you scream last night? When I buried my tongue insi - '
"Ewan!" Your face reddens, but you carry on. His face will soon have the same reaction, but for different, more savoury reasons. "I mean, I would like that but - "
"Alright, let's go baby, spread your knees - " he nods, desperate to placate you and your challenge, but also eager to get down to business.
You shuffle away when he tries to pry your legs open. " - I said I made up my mind! We're eating spicy food. We gotta eat anyway, I'm starving."
He groans, collapsing back on the bed. He runs his hand tiredly over his face, mulling it over. As if he actually has a choice. He wants to do this for you, seeing as how excited you're getting.
"Get up, ol' sport," you crawl on top of him, perching above his stomach. "We're gonna go get the goods."
"Hmm," he sighs contentedly, one look at you more than enough to quell his worries. For now.
"Okay, darling," he relents, then his eyes flash in mischief. "But before we get out of bed... how about I do that thing anyway?"
There is not a single chance in the seven hells that you could ever say no to that.
âŞď¸ âŞď¸ âŞď¸ âŞď¸ âŞď¸ âŞď¸ âŞď¸
An interesting spread is laid out on the round dining table in your hotel suite.
Your stomach growls in anticipation, while Ewan is stiff as a board as he sits beside you.
"I'm hungry, aren't you?" you nudge him, but he only moans, throwing his head back in his chair.
"What if I'd already eaten? I can skip this?" he tries.
"And what the hell did you eat?"
He smirks, and even though his answer won't save him from what follows, it renders him gleeful all the same. "You," is his reply.
That prompts an eye roll, but you shake your head at him fondly. "What should we start with, baby?"
"Water."
"Come on."
"How about the strawberry milk?"
"Okay, then I'll pick." You clasp your hands, surveying the options. "Let's start with something easy." You settle for the bowl of Flamin Hot Cheetos and place it right in front of him.
You help yourself to a few pieces, before noticing that he hasn't moved a muscle, so you take one and bring it to his lips. "Open up, handsome."
"Mmmm," he tilts his head away on instinct, but he gives in after a second. He makes a face as the snack crunches in his mouth. "Not... bad, I suppose.... Urghhh - " he coughs a little, making you snicker at him between bites.
"That's not spicy at all," you say. "At least, it's nothing compared to what we'll have next."
The chicken wings are an unnatural bright red colour, covered in hot sauce and dotted with flecks of chili. You lean down and take a whiff, your nose scrunching as the strong hint of spice hits your senses.
Your placating smile does nothing to ease Ewan, who only looks like he is regretting his life choices on the spot.
"O-kay, dragonblood. Time to breathe fire," you remark in an attempt to inspire some confidence in him. Didn't he take pride in playing a Targaryen dragonrider? Surely some part of him would want to overcome the big, bad opponent that is known in our world as spicy wings.
"Breathe fire?" he exclaims. "That does not make me feel any better!"
"Do it for Vhagar, my love. Do it for Vhagar."
"I'm doing this for you," he corrects, before gingerly taking the smallest bite of a wing. He waits for the impact, confused when nothing unpleasant occurs.
So he bravely takes another, heartier bite.
Big mistake.
His hand gravitates to the glass of water, and he chugs it down like a lifeline. His once pale face becomes the same hue as the fiery culprit.
"Fffuck, ba...by," he hiccups. "I didn't like that at all."
You have a bite, wincing just a little when it hits your throat. It wasn't too bad, so you tell him to calm down.
He complains anyway, "I think I just saw my life flash right before my eyes."
You chortle at that, which unfortunately makes some of the spice travel up your nose. "Oh god!" You instantly take a huge gulp of milk. "Don't make me laugh!" you say, when the heat dies down.
"See?" he cries out in vindication. "Why must we torture ourselves, darling?"
"The food's tasty," you counter.
"Yeah, but is it worth the price?"
You grip his shoulder, dramatically saying, "We have to keep going, soldier."
"No."
"Yes."
"You won't break up with me if I refuse, will you?"
You pause, making it seem like you are seriously deliberating it. "Maybe."
"What?!" His expression takes on a more real sense of alarm.
"I'm kidding," you giggle, nudging his leg with yours. He leans his head against your shoulder, responding with, "You're mean."
"And you're dating me. What does that say about you?"
He lets out a weary laugh, "That I'm just really in love, I guess."
That almost makes you give up on the challenge entirely. You could just let him eat the pepperoni pizza you have saved as the actual meal. But it wouldn't hurt too much to tackle the grand finale. The final boss. Maybe it will even get his taste buds to crack and cross over to the dark side.
"Baby?" Here goes everything.
"Hmm?"
"It's time for the spicy ramen."
He sighs a true sigh of defeat and acceptance. "If I survive this, you have to swear you're never letting me go."
"That's your bargain? Easy, baby."
His blue eyes bore into yours. His cheeks are still red and he's still sniffling from the spice, but his sentiment holds weight. He shrugs, before his arm reaches out for the bowl of ramen, making it known that he has already accepted his fate.
You slide the glass of milk closer to him.
"Try not to get it on your lips as much as possible," you advise him, growing worried as the ramen pack did warn that it was '2x Spicy'.
You cringe inwardly as a forkful of noodles enters his mouth. He drops his arm, chewing slowly, and finally the food gratefully slides down his throat.
"Mmm," he clears his throat, trying his hardest to remain calm. His forced, blank expression is even more alarming than the alternative.
"Ewan?" He turns his head toward you, slowly. And you see the full extent of the damage. His eyes well with tears, and his breathing is shallow from an even more congested nose.
"I'm okay," he wheezes, trying to maintain a show of boldness for your sake. "I can do this."
"You don't look okay." You shake your head at him, as his face takes on an even deeper shade of red.
A pained grunt escapes him. "Maybe a kiss will make it better."
A cursory glace at the ramen sauce staining his lips compels you to protest without a second thought. "How about no? You've got it all over your lips."
"Darling, who cares? You're going to eat them too!" he says, scandalised.
"But I've got a technique. I don't let it touch my lips so it doesn't burn!" You inch away as he leans in.
"So you won't kiss me?" He uses his baby blues against you, eyes bright and shimmering as he pouts in disappointment.
"You don't need a kiss." He tries to grab you, making you stand from your chair to get away. With your palm outstretched, you implore him, "Baby, just drink your milk."
"Then I get a kiss?"
"Fine. Then you get a kiss."
âŞď¸ âŞď¸ âŞď¸ âŞď¸ âŞď¸ âŞď¸ âŞď¸
Tom calls you a few days later, his tone animated from the moment you pick up. "Would you look at that! I didn't think I would get a hold of you lovers. Thought you'd be busy doing somethin' else, if y'know what I mean."
"It's noon here, Tom," you reply matter-of-factly, stretching your legs out on the bed.
"So? I reckon Captain Big Balls over there has got it in him."
"Wow," you let out an amused exhale. Tom always did have a way about him, being a Manc and all. "Well, he's in the shower right now if you wanted to speak to him."
"I'm surprised you're not in there with him, love! You guys are all over the news, bloody hell. Even out here, everyone's buzzin' about the hot new couple from House of the Dragon. And no, it's not Matt and Fabien."
You smirk at his last remark, "Are you sure it's not Matt and Fabs?"
"Positive," he says. "But we never know what could happen. Anyway, how in the hell did you convince him?"
You rack your brain for what exactly he could be pertaining to. "Convince him to do what?"
"To create a bloody Instagram profile, that's what!"
Your mouth falls open, and you quickly put him on speaker so you can scroll to the aforementioned app. Sure enough, it doesn't take long for you to sift through your new follower notifications before you find him.
His username is on brand - straightforward and no-frills - just ewanmitchell . Already verified with a hundred thousand followers and counting. In his following list, however, there is only one - your profile.
If the papparazzi pictures and tabloid stories and fan encounters hadn't convinced everyone yet, likely this will.
Ewan, notorious not only for his charisma and pure talent, but also for being steadfast in staying off social media, has sent the entirety of Ewan Nation into a tailspin with his profile.
Icing on the cake - he only follows you.
"You see, this is what convinces the public that you two are not PR," Tom says. "Because Ewan would never, ever get on the socials for just anyone."
"I didn't even know he made this. I haven't been online in quite a bit."
"Been busy, huh?" he asks.
"Yeah."
"Doin' a lot of stuff out there?"
"I guess."
"Like Ewan?"
"Tom, I'm going to lynch you when I see you."
He only laughs, having gotten his desired outcome from prodding at you.
The bathroom door slides open, and Ewan steps out with nothing but a towel haphazardly wrapped around his waist.
"Who's that?" he mouths at you.
"Tom," you answer loudly, prompting Tom to greet Ewan from the speakerphone.
"Aemond the Fierce!" he bellows, the long-distance call doing nothing to stifle his personality. "I always knew you had it in ya. Ever since you laid eyes on her during the table read, I knew it was only a matter of time."
Well, isn't that a revelation. You had thought it was just you harbouring a crush in the beginning. "The table read, really? I just remember being so nervous," you say.
"I thought you were attractive," Ewan admits, scratching the back of his neck. "And you were reading your lines with such passion that I... "
Tom interrupts, "He ran over to me and told me to show him your social media."
"Not just that, I - "
"He wanted to see whether you had any pictures with a boyfriend or something."
"Alright, alright." Ewan snatches the phone from your hand, as if that will keep Tom from exposing him even more. "How are you, mate?"
"I'm good, lad, and yourself?"
Ewan glances at you, seeing that you've gone back to reading a script, your brow furrowed in concentration.
A smile tugs at the corners of his lips.
"I'm great. I'm happy."
âŞď¸ âŞď¸ âŞď¸ âŞď¸ âŞď¸ âŞď¸ âŞď¸
"Over here! Over here!"
"How's your evening going, you guys? How are you enjoying LA?"
The papparazzi needlessly try to make small talk and they flash their cameras in your face. You and Ewan barely have time to grimace at each other once you get inside his car. The restaurant where he took you to dinner hadn't been crawling with paps when you arrived. Someone must have tipped them at some point.
Ewan instinctively reaches for your hand when you've driven some distance away from the restaurant, a breath of relief exiting his lungs.
"That's Hollywood for you, baby," he says amusedly, putting on his best standard American accent.
The car speeds through the streets of LA. Heading to Mount Hollywood, you have the famous Griffith Observatory set as your destination.
You have always wanted to go, and it only took one mention to Ewan before he planned it for your next date.
It doesn't take long before the observatory's iconic structure comes into view. Its white domes seemingly gleam under the night sky, a sentinel watching over the city of Los Angeles.
Stepping out of the car, you take in the scene in awe. The resulting look on your face lets Ewan know he made the right choice in taking you here. He'd take you here everyday if it meant seeing you in a spell of childlike wonder.
The observatory itself is just a bonus.
The outer balcony stretches like a vertice into the vastness of the city, a sea of lights glistening down below. It seemed to sprawl on endlessly, a labyrinth of hopes and pains and dreams.
You stand there, drawn to the view like a moth to a flame. The evening breeze dances through your hair, and your face is aglow from the illuminated city.
Smiling widely, you turn and find Ewan lingering just behind, watching you.
"Come and look at this, my love," you wave him over.
He wants to capture the moment, so he does. He subtly points his camera in your direction. Your profile is partially visible, with your face turned out into the horizon. Your silhouette stands before a mosaic of the shining city.
But it's you that has his attention. You that pulls all of his focus into the frame.
He never thought he would have much use for a public social media profile like the one he created on Instagram, but hours later, as you're sound asleep beside him, he finds purpose for such a thing.
He uploads the first ever photo on his profile - the one he secretly took of you at the observatory.
Too conscious to think of a caption, he doesn't type in any, content to let the photo speak for itself.
Putting his phone away, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead and falls into blissful slumber.
Ewan hadn't been aware of the phrase breaking the internet, and he's in for quite the rude awakening.
Even so, he doesn't let it faze him.
You're in shock when you discover the amount of comments under the photo, well past the twelve thousand mark when you wake up. Positive, negative, and everything in between.
Almost unheard of for an Instagram debut.
His reaction?
"At least everyone knows that you're mine now. What's wrong with that?"
You can vote here on the reader's hotd character name!
Taglist: @sprinklesprinkle888 @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @hotdismylife @vyctorya @wildrangers @livcookesgf @dracaryxzs @aemondwhoresworld @aisselasstuff @onlyrealjoy (continued in comments)
The sad, angsty bits will be saved for the next proper chapter! What happens to Ewan's Instagram then? What happens to him?? đĽ˛đ
I was going to include the double date idea, but alas, my ideas ran dry.
I've got nothing but love for all of you that have followed this story to this point! If you've got scene requests, just let me know!
#ewan mitchell#ewan mitchell x reader#ewan mitchell imagine#aemond targaryen#chemical override#ewan mitchell fanfic#hotd
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You Come Back With Gravity
alexia and r have an argument. r misunderstands, and when alexia leaves to calm down, she thinks she's going for good. angst + fluff :)
-----
Alexia was big on communication, and she didn't like to fight. Neither did you, although your track record in past relationships may argue otherwise. That was more on your former partners, though, than it was on you. Not fighting was new for you. Alexia never yelled, and she insisted that the two of you talk about any issues that were going on calmly, and like adults. A voice had never been raised between the two of you, arguments never escalating to full blown shouting matches, mostly because of Alexia's insistence that they didn't.
Something about this argument, though, felt different. Alexia had proposed a few weeks ago, and, after having a bit too much to drink, you'd brought up something that had been nagging at the back of your mind for a while. Alexia had brushed it aside that night, and again and again since, until you practically forced her to talk about it. Normally, when you presented Alexia with an issue you had, she was quick to try to fix it. Your teammates often joked about the complete 180 Alexia did when she was around you, melting and agreeing to anything you asked of her. You were the same way for her, but it was more surprising that their normally very willful captain so easily did as you said.
If Alexia wouldn't budge on an issue, she normally had a reason, and you didn't require her to explain herself to you. This was different, though. You needed an explanation, before your mind continued to take off in the worst directions.
"Alexia, do you not see that this is important to me?"
"I do, amor, but there is no room for discussion. We are not going public with our relationship. It has stayed low key for this long, and I intend to keep it that way." Alexia was quickly losing her patience with you, and you could tell. Still, you persisted.Â
'You won't even give me a reason, Ale! Is this what our relationship is going to be like for the rest of our lives? You make a decision that affects both of us, and I just have to live with it?" Your voice was slightly raised and you could tell Alexia was upset. You were pacing around the room, and she was sitting, completely still, on the couch. Alexia was never still. A part of her was always moving.
"I am not changing my mind on this, mi amor." Alexia told you calmly, although her jaw clenched tight when she finished speaking.
"Okay, well that's it. You don't care what I think. Whatever you say goes, is that it?" You were using anger to hide how terrified you were. There was really only one reason that you could think of to explain Alexia's complete refusal to be transparent about your relationship.
"You know that it is not."
"This is absurd, Ale, we can't even have a conversation without you-"
"ÂĄBasta! Stop yelling, I do not want to talk anymore about this," Alexia shouted finally, rising to her feet.
"I am yelling because you are not listening to me,"
"You are not listening to me. No more of this, we can discuss it when we are both calmer."
"I don't want to push this aside again, I would like to resolve it now." You tried to calm yourself down slightly despite your words, drawing in a few deep breaths as you waited for your fiancĂŠe to respond.
"It is resolved. There is no discussion to be had. There is no other option; we are not going public. No."
You let out a humorless laugh, and Alexia's eyebrows shot up. She did not like to be laughed at.
"You aren't being fair, Alexia. I deserve an explanation for why you are so very ashamed of me, to the point you don't want anyone to know we are together."
Alexia rolled her eyes, not taking your statement seriously. She thought you were just being dramatic, there was no way you really believed that. You did believe it, though and Alexia's complete dismissal in the face of your admitted vulnerability made you furious.
"Jesus, Alexia. Fine. You get your way. As usual. Captain Alexia always gets what she wants." You yelled, throwing yourself down on the couch dramatically and burying your head in your hands. You didn't want to cry while you were fighting with her, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. You knew you weren't being fair, or particularly nice but Alexia had hurt your feelings and she didn't even seem to understand why.
It was dead silent for a full minute before Alexia let out a long, drawn out exhale, and spoke.
"You are being mean. I am going to go to Alba's."
Her words were stiff, clearly communicating how upset she was with you, and you whipped your head up to look at her, watching as she headed towards the door, grabbing her keys. She put her airpods in, but you didn't see her do so.
"Ale? Are you coming back?" You called, voice full of insecurity.
Alexia couldn't hear you, not with her music playing as loud as it was, and she walked out the door without acknowledging that you'd spoken.
You were frozen. This was what you always did; take a small fight and push it so far that the other person finally saw that you weren't worth the trouble. It hadn't happened with Alexia yet because you'd never fought with her. It wasn't enough that she didn't want anyone to know the two of you were together, you had to push her until she didn't want to be with you, period.
You were an over-thinker to your core, and you were convinced, absolutely, that you had just destroyed the most important relationship that you'd ever had. It was hard to breathe, hard to think, the suffocating weight of thinking that the woman you loved was not coming back taking over.
You weren't sure why you were surprised. People left, people always left. Why would this be any different? Alexia was the best person you'd ever known, and she deserved far better than what you could give her, even when you were at your best. Of course Alexia didn't want anyone to know that she was with you. Of course she didn't want you. You had only yourself to blame.
-----
While you sat alone in your apartment, spiraling, Alexia was driving not to her sisters, but to the beach. She needed some peace and quiet to think, which she surely would not find at Alba's.
She just needed to cool down. You were upset, she was upset, and continuing on like you had been would only lead you both to say things you didn't mean. She'd take an hour, calm down, and head home. Alexia had no idea that you had asked her a question before she'd left, had no idea that you were sitting at home, convinced she was done with you.
The longer she was gone, though, the more guilty she felt. She remembered the look on your face when you'd spoken:
"I deserve an explanation for why you are so very ashamed of me, to the point you don't want anyone to know we are together."
She thought you were just trying to make a point at the time, but as she got space from the fight, and from her own anger, she felt less sure about that judgment. You'd looked distraught when you said it. It would explain why you were so very upset with her reluctance to go public, why you were so very upset with her.
Alexia had watched many relationships fall apart once they hit the public eye; some of her own, and some of them, her friend's. She didn't want that. As long as you two kept this to yourselves, allowing your loved ones and teammates to know and no one else, the media couldn't destroy it. That was Alexia's biggest fear; losing you, and having no control over it.
Of course, you were sat at home, practically catatonic, at the thought that you had lost Alexia.
-----
Alexia didn't even make it an hour like she planned. She was parking in the driveway 44 minutes after she'd left, flowers next to her in the front seat, as she tried to figure out if she'd given you enough space to think. She determined that she had, mostly because she couldn't stand leaving things like this any longer, and she fixed her hair in the mirror, tucking the shorter pieces behind her ears in the way she knew you liked, before grabbing the flowers.
When she had left, it was still light out. It was dark, now, and Alexia was surprised when she opened the door and there was not a light on in the house. She panicked slightly, wondering if you'd left, before spotting your silhouette on the couch. Exactly where you'd been when she left. It looked like you hadn't moved, even an inch. The blonde slipped her shoes off, walking cautiously closer to you, flipping on the light.
You didn't make a move, giving her no indication that you knew she was there with you. Alexia could tell you were trembling, and every breath you drew in came with a small, pained whimper. Alexia was more than concerned, now. She dropped the flowers on the table, before crouching down in front of you.
"Mi amor?" She said softly, weary to touch you, not wanting to startle you.
"Hey, amor?" She spoke slightly louder this time. Still, you didn't even twitch. Tentatively, she reached her hand out, letting her hand wrap around your wrist. She was going to try to pull your hand away from your face, but you beat her to it, jumping a foot in the air at her touch, and scrambling backwards.
"It is me, amor, it is just me," Alexia reassured, throwing her hands up in the air, and not moving any closer.
"Ale?" You gasped, as if you couldn't believe that she was here in front of you. You were half convinced you were hallucinating. It felt like 2 minutes had passed, but also like it had been hours since she left.
"It is just me," Alexia repeated, taking a seat on the very edge of the couch. You were still shaking, and Alexia longed to bring you into her arms.
"What are you doing here?" You asked.
"What do you mean?"
"You came back. Why?"
"Why... why would I not come back? This is our home. Ours. Did you not want me here?" Alexia asked insecurely, entirely confused at your reaction. Your eyes were watery, and you bit your lip, shaking your head at her.
"No, I want you here, I... I asked if you were coming back. And you left without answering."
"QuĂŠ?" Alexia asked, looking genuinely confused. Alexia couldn't lie to you, and if she'd ignored something you'd said, she'd admit to it.
"Before you walked out the door, I asked if you were coming back." You explained further, although you were already relaxing slightly. Ale was here, she came back.
A look of realization dawned over your girlfriend's face. "I had my headphones in, amor, I did not hear you."
Now that Alexia could see where your mind had started to go, it wasn't hard to piece the rest of it together. It made sense, suddenly, why you were so upset. You'd thought Alexia had left you.
It was only seconds after that revelation that Alexia was reaching across the couch and pulling you into her arms; one wrapped tightly around your back, the other hand lacing through your hair and pushing your face into her neck. You clung tightly to her, melting into her touch.
"I would never leave you. Not today, not tomorrow. Not ever. I wanted to calm down, so we could have a conversation. I should have thought that through, bebĂŠ, I am so sorry."
You shook your head against her. "I shouldn't have overreacted, it was just that you were so upset, and we never fight. You're so good, Ale, it's like I'm always waiting for the other shoe to drop, always waiting for you to realize that you can do better. I thought you had, I thought that's why you didn't want anyone to know about us."
Alexia shut her eyes tightly. You'd meant what you'd said earlier, then, and she'd completely dismissed it. She guided you away from her, just a bit, cradling your face in her hands. She brushed your hair back out of your face, pursing her lips as she tried to figure out what to say.
"It was not an overreaction. You thought I ignored you, you thought I was leaving. I know how nervous these things make you, mi amor, I should have been clearer."
"Amor, do you think that I want to keep our relationship private because I am ashamed of you?" When Alexia said the words, it felt ridiculous. You knew it was irrational to feel the way you felt, but at the same time⌠your fear was all encompassing. You tried to lean away from her, preserve some of your dignity even as more tears slid down your face, but Alexia wouldn't let you. "Hey, no. Tell me, por favor.âÂ
âYouâre you Ale. And Iâm just me. I would understand if you didnât want people to know you were with me, you should be with someone better, prettier,-âÂ
âStop.â Alexia said, shaking her head frantically. She looked physically pained at your words. âStop. You are not allowed to talk about yourself like that. You are mĂ niĂąa, mĂ niĂąa perfecta. I am proud that you are mine, everyday. You are the best, you are the prettiest. You are all I need, te prometo que.â The blondes eyes were wide with a desperate need for you to believe her. You wanted to.Â
âThen why, Ale? Why donât you want people to know youâre with me?â You chewed on your bottom lip when Alexia didnât answer right away, and her thumb reached over to lightly tap it. You released your lip, tightening your grip on your girlfriend, only growing more terrified for her answer as time passed.Â
âYou are so perfect.â Alexia started, giving you a stern look when you shook your head on instinct. âItâs so easy with you. So easy to love you, so easy to be with you. The media complicates everything, the fans. They would say horrible things to you and about you. As long as no one knows, I can keep you safe. I can keep you mine. Just mine.âÂ
âAlexia, Iâm not worried about that.â You assured her.Â
âYou should be, mi amor, I am worried about it.â Alexia emphasized, and you only really realized the stress this worry was causing her at that moment. âIt would not be the first time the media has ruined a relationship, and I do not think I could survive it if I lost you.â The blondeâs voice cracked at the end of her sentence, and suddenly, she wasnât holding you anymore, you were holding her. Cradling her face in your hands as you insistently tried to get her watery, hazel eyes to meet yours.Â
âEven if the media goes crazy, even if people say mean stuff. Iâll still want you, Ale. It wonât be fun but itâs worth it. If itâs for you? Itâs worth it, itâll always be worth it.âÂ
Alexia let out a sound that was halfway between a sob and a sigh of relief, burying her face in your neck. Her tears were wet against your skin, her breaths ragged and frantic. âTe amo,â she murmured. âYou make me so happy, amor. If you are not worried about the media, then I will try not to be. If you want people to know, then we tell. Whatever you want, whatever you need. As long as you know that I love you, that you are perfect, that you are mine, forever. Para siempre.âÂ
Now you were crying, and she was still crying, as she gave you a very wet kiss, and it was entirely more emotional than either of you would have liked, but there was nothing to be done. The perfect relationship, you supposed, was one where you each thought the other to be perfect. Even if you didnât see yourself that way, Alexia would always be there to convince you of your perfection, as you would for her.
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You know how in the movie, Miles mom gets angry when he says, âwhateverâ can you do that with latina!wife for Miguel?
đđđŹđđđŤđđđ˛
Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Wife!Reader
Summary: Miguel hasn't had a proper night's rest in days, and quite frankly you missed him. Too bad he's too swamped with work to notice.
Warnings: None! Just a silly lil fic.
â
You know those days where youâre just teetering on the edge? It could be for absolutely no reason at all, or maybe a collection of things, all you knew was that it just makes every action you take frustrating.
Well, that was you today.
Granted it wasnât for no reason. Yesterday, Miguel had promised to come back home for dinner and sleep in his own bed, because for the last few days he had been swamped with work and mission reports. You understood the work he did was important, truly, but you missed him. That, and he was a chronic overworker who would only stop when he collapsed from exhaustion, and you were not going to let it get to that point.
It was getting tiring having to beg him to come back to rest, even for a moment. Spider powers or not, everyone needs a break.
âUh ohâŚâ you hear Lyla say as you march into the monitoring room, but you continue to press onward.
âMiguel!â you call up to him, but he doesnât even bother turning around to face you, rummaging through papers and swiping through screens.
âQuerida, is there something you need?â he asks nonchalantly like nothing was wrong.
âYes! There is, actually. What happened to coming home yesterday, hm~?â you say, irritation rising in your voice.
âOhâŚis it already the next day?â he asks, still not looking toward you. âIâm sorry, vida m��a. I guess I got carried away, Iâll try to be back later alright?â he says, trying to placate you.
âYou canât keep going on like this Miguel, itâs not healthy. One evening of a break wonât hurt. Hell, Iâll even help you out with paperwork, and Lyla can too. So come home tonight, alright? For me, please?â
âYeah, yeah, whatever,â he says without thinking, only half listening to you.
âExcuse me?â you say, your voice stone cold and immediately Miguel stiffens, slowly turning toward you with a sheepish look on his face.
âVida mĂa,â he says, his expression apologetic as his platform begins to lower to the floor. You donât have the patience to wait for it though, choosing to swing up with your webs and meet him at his level.
âMiguel O'Hara, who do you think youâre talking to?" you say lowly. "Iâm not one of your subordinates, I am your wife,â Your hands are planted on your hips as you look up at him annoyedly.
âI know, I know,â he says hurriedly, âIâm sorry. I said it without thinking.â
âSorry isnât good enough. Weâre going home, now,â you say, grabbing his hand and leaving no room for argument. âLyla, have Jess take over for the rest of today, alright?â
âAye, aye, captain!â she says, snickering at the interaction between the two of you.
âQuerida, thereâs still so much work I have to do,â he says, resisting your pull but you continue to drag you along.
âShould have thought of that before you said âwhateverâ to me, Miguel,â you say, but sigh. âIâm only trying to look out for you, is that so bad?â
He pauses, studying your worried expression that was because of him. It caused a wave of guilt to wash over him after he disregarded your care for work instead.
âI knowâŚalright, letâs go home sweetheart,â he says, finally relenting as he presses a kiss to your forehead. Immediately you light up, grasping his hand tighter.
âIâll make your favourite today, and we can take a bath later if youâd like?â you suggest.
âI would love that, tesoro.â
A/N: Thank you for reading!
Taglist: @beiroviski, @scaraza, @blueoorchid, @remuslupinwifee, @phobia0325, @local-mr-frog, @johfaam0, @raweggohan, @honeycriess, @alexenoirex, @chimpkinnuggies, @rqdior, @banana--belle, @notasadgirlipromise, @6billionyearsold, @gods-perfectidiot, @phobia0325, @honeii-puff, @ieatmunson
#miguel oâhara x reader#miguel o'hara#miguel x reader#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o hara#spiderman 2099#spiderman across the spiderverse#across the spiderverse#across the spider verse spoilers#spiderman#spiderman 2099 x reader#marvel#fluff!
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His Princess - pt2
Pt 2 of His Princess
fancast!bloody ben x targ!fem!reader
Summary: Rhaenyra asks y/n to take her host to Harrenhal to speak to Daemon. Y/n rises to the challenge of Daemon and the River Lords watch on in shock and silence.
Warnings: 18+ swearing, political plotting, prob wine somewhere in a cup, bathing, thigh riding, face riding, p in v
Authors Note: soft moments w silverwing and ben, i believe this man would beg you teach him some high valyrian just so he could talk to silverwing and write it down and keep it in his pocket, idc if itâs unrealistic to pet a dragons belly itâs real to me!!, daemon needs to LEAVE harrenhal and step tf up like enough already
Word Count: 4.7k
âšâââď¸ââşââ âď¸ ââşâââď¸ââ âš âšâââď¸ââşââ âď¸ ââşâââď¸ââ âš âšâââď¸ââşââ
Over the past week Iâve been in contact with Jace about the status of our growing host in the Riverlands. Rhaenyra has finally returned home and expresses her gratitude for the swords that Iâve raised for her. She takes over the correspondence from Jace as we begin to discuss who is on our side and best ways to bring the other Lords to our cause.
She confides to me concerning her worry about Daemon. She has asked that I meet Ser Alfred Broome in Harrenhal and see if Daemon can be brought to reason. She hopes that he will start to relax and hopefully return to Dragonstone upon seeing their host. We have been on the move ever since her request while slowly adding swords along the way.
âWe should reach Harrenhal on the morrow.â Ben ducks into the tent as I lounge on the makeshift bed.
âThank the Gods. I need a fucking bath.â I slide over so he can join me.
âYou still look absolutely divine to me.â as he pulls me into him.
âOh Iâm sure,â I roll my eyes. âThe dirt and grime are very comely.â I sigh looking at my nails.
âAt Harrenhal Iâll make sure you get the largest and hottest bath available. Even if it means displacing its current Lord.â he promises.
âIâll hold you to that.â I hum. âI have no idea what state Daemon is in.â I sigh, wiping my face.
âHe should be happy youâve raised a host.â Ben murmurs as he finger brushes through my hair.
âWe can only hope.â I moan as his fingers scratch along my scalp as I turn so he can continue his movements.
âLetâs hope they have feed to spare for Silverwing. Sheâs been eyeing our host for some time now.â he chuckles as he begins to loosely braid my hair.
âMm, speaking of, I should take her out to hunt.â I sigh stretching out as he completes the plait.
âWill you let me come with you this time?â his eyes light up as he pleads.
âYouâll have to ask her yourself.â I chuckle as I begin to rise and stretch out.
I slowly put my riding armor back on as Ben quickly pulls his own armor on stumbling after me out of the tent. The host around us is now up to 5,000 swords and itâs easy to get lost in the chaos that surrounds us daily. We see the outline of Silverwing in the trees as we approach.
âWait,â Ben pulls me to a stop. âItâs Hello my beast Silverwing?â a laugh bubbles out of my mouth as his face turns red.
âY/n, my Princess, please.â he begs trying to hide his embarrassment.
âIf you say that she will never allow you to ride with me.â I try to settle my giggles. âHello, my beautiful Silverwing.â I look to him and nod for him to repeat.
âHello, my beautiful Silverwing?â his Riverland accent makes the sentence sound funny but heâs got the words down at least.
âWell letâs go see if I get to keep enjoying you or if her meal has delivered itself to her.â I pull him by his arm with a smile on my face. I nod at him to go greet my sleeping dragon as I stand nearby.
âHello,â his voice slightly stumbles as she begins to stir. âHello, my beautiful Silverwing.â I hear the confidence in his voice as Silverwing begins to rise.
She looks over to me and then looks down at Ben and huffs. His hair is blown askew by her deep breath as she lowers her head to his height. He puts his hands up as I continue to give her a stern look. She gives a soft chirp before she pushes him with her snout.
âI didnât learn any other words. Y/n says my accent is funny.â he speaks softly to Silverwing as he settles his hands on the side of her jaw.
She softly blinks at him and then looks to me as if I was so mean for stating the obvious to him. Ben slowly relaxes as he continues to offer her pats. She watches him intently as he begins to walk the length of her. She thuds back to the ground and rolls onto her side for him to pat her belly.
âOh you big baby.â I chuckle lovingly as I approach them both. We continue to offer her pats and words of adoration until she grumbles and begins to turn back over. âHe wants to come with us to hunt.â her eyes lock with mine and narrow. She closes her eyes and dips her wing down for us to climb up.
âLetâs see how this goes.â I breathe out as I gesture for him to start climbing.
âWhat do I grab on to?â he turns to me suddenly nervous.
âWhatever you can. Iâll be right behind you.â I nod reassuringly as he grabs on to her leg. Silverwing chuffs as we slowly climb on and settle into the saddle. I clip us in and his arms wrap around my waist tightly.
âItâs not too late to get down.â I turn my head and offer to him softly.
âNo, itâll be fun.â he nods as he tries to strengthen his resolve but his words come out a little breathy.
âFly, Silverwing.â she rises to her full height and I feel Benâs hands lock tightly together around me.
She launches us into the sky and I feel Ben press his head into my back. I chuckle wildly as she circles our host and gives them an eerie song. We coast along the breeze until we reach the river and she slowly begins to dip down. Ben slowly releases his hands and begins to look down at the land below us.
âWhat a fucking rush.â he chuckles with me as Silverwing dips into the river to collect fish.
She continues to collect more fish and spits them out on the nearby shore. Once she has a large pile she lands and scorches the fish in a burning pyre. She quickly chomps down on her meal as we stay firmly seated basking in her power.
âShould we get-â
Silverwing shoots us back into the clouds as Ben gasps, handing flying around my waist once more. I raise my hands from the reins and allow my fingertips to caress the clouds as we fly back to camp. With enough encouragement, Ben releases his hands from my waist and allows his fingers to dance in the clouds with us.
âšâââď¸ââşââ âď¸ ââşâââď¸ââ âš âšâââď¸ââşââ âď¸ ââşâââď¸ââ âš âšâââď¸ââşââ
We begin marching out just before dawn. The men grumble but are looking forward to making it to Harrenhal finally. Silverwing is becoming restless the closer we get to the Crownlands as she can feel the tension pulsing through us.
We mainly ride the breeze only going in front of the host when weâre about an hour out from the castle. As I approach, Caraxes high pitched song pierces my ears. Silverwing gives out a greeting as we circle back to our host. Caraxes seems to have stayed at the castle much to my relief that Daemon isnât feeling particularly reckless today.
I land outside the gates and await the host to break through the trees. Once Ben is at my side we begin to approach the gates as they grind open. Daemon swaggers out and looks to me with his hand on his sword pommel.
âY/n.â he looks at me and the men behind me as if heâs unimpressed.
âDaemon.â I sigh and roll my eyes.
âIâve claimed Harrenhal.â I squint my eyes at his words.
âAnd Iâve raised a host.â I shake my head at him confused.
âFor who?â he tilts his head to me.
âWhat is wrong with you? What do you mean? For Rhaenyra.â I approach him studying him.
âIt seems as if his knees are bent to you the way he hovers behind you.â he raises his chin to Ben who has indeed followed close behind me on approach.
âGet over yourself. Are we welcome or no. You wanted an army and Iâve brought you one.â my voice starts to rise as I tire of his antics and want the bath I was promised.
âDid she send you?â Daemons eyes squint.
âYouâre going fucking mad, Daemon. We are staying. Iâm taking the largest bathtub.â I roll my eyes, shaking my head with a chuckle. âHis knees are bent to me and heâs mine. Heâs not to be touched by anyone.â Daemon smirks at my words as he gestures with his arm for us to enter.
âWelcome,â Lord Simon says as the gates groan the rest of the way open. âWelcome to Harrenhal.
âšâââď¸ââşââ âď¸ ââşâââď¸ââ âš âšâââď¸ââşââ âď¸ ââşâââď¸ââ âš âšâââď¸ââşââ
I almost sob looking at the massive bath made before me. I make quick work of my clothes and armor as servants whisk them away to clean them before leaving me alone. The second the seaming water engulfs me all of my muscles sigh in relief. Suddenly thereâs a knock at the door and I groan.
âWhat?â I grit out through my teeth.
âItâs me.â Ben peeks his head around the door.
âThen get in here and shut the door. Iâm in the fucking bath, Ben.â I hiss at him and feel instantly bad as I know I shouldnât take my frustrations out on him. âIâm sorry,â I sigh out. âWhatâs wrong?â I sink lower into the pool.
âYou didnât invite me and I felt left out.â his voice teasing. I grab his hand and begin to pull him in with me. He bats my hand away chucking as he takes his clothes off before slipping in the water next to me.
âBetter?â I ask resting my head on his shoulder.
âMuch.â he hums content. âWhat happened with Daemon earlier?â he asks softly before grabbing the soap next to us so we can begin our deep clean.
âHeâs going insane. I have no idea whatâs wrong with him.â I shake my head not knowing how Iâm supposed to deal with this. Hopefully Ser Alfred will arrive soon and offer his support.
âWhat did he say?â he asks as helps me wash my hair once heâs finished his.
âHe knows youâre loyal to me. I donât think he trusts Rhaenyra. His words seemed off and paranoid. Iâll send a raven to Rhaenyra in the morning.â I know my tone is slightly clipped, Iâm just done discussing pressing matters. I want to enjoy my bath while a handsome man dotes on me.
âMaybe itâs this old, haunted castle. They say itâll turn the most sane man mad.â Ben thinks to himself as he rinses out my hair. Iâm thankful weâre finally clean but I canât handle this conversation any longer.
âBen, I need you to be quiet and make me feel good or leave. I do not wish to discuss strategy or ghosts.â he chuckles as I turn and he takes in my scrunched brow.
âIâm sorry, my Princess. Is the war boring you?â he chuckles pulling me to straddle his thigh.
I sigh as he pulls me forward causing the most delicious friction. He continues sliding me across his thigh and my eyes shut. My hips begin to move on their own accord seeking the pleasure Iâve been needing all week. Whimpers fall from my mouth as Ben looks at me with a smirk.
âSo you donât want to discuss-â
âI will cut your fucking tongue out.â I reply breathlessly as his hands grind me down on to his thigh roughly.
âThen how will I be able to lick your-â
I crash my lips to his in hopes heâll remain silent. He chuckles against my lips as his fingers dig into my sides. He begins to move my hips quicker as the water begins to splash around us. I begin to moan into his mouth as pleasure begins to explode through my body. His lips capture mine once more as he slowly continues to grind me against him to prolong my pleasure.
âBeautiful,â Ben whispers and my eyes snap open. âFuck, please let me have said it right.â panic laces his words.
âYou did,â my lips attach to his as my heart stumbles.
âšâââď¸ââşââ âď¸ ââşâââď¸ââ âš âšâââď¸ââşââ âď¸ ââşâââď¸ââ âš âšââââşââ
I sit around the council table with the River Lords who look from me to Daemon. Ser Alfred has arrived this morning and hasnât been able to form a coherent conversation with Daemon. My eyes stay planted on him as his head lulls as he grips his cup. When his eyes seem to uncloud he stares at Lord Simonâs child, Alys, Iâm told.
âPull yourself together.â I grit out to Daemon who is currently making a fool of himself.
âWhen did this meeting start?â his words borderline slurred as he looks to Alys who comes to his side.
I shake my head in confusion as she whispers into his ear. I look to Ben to make sure Iâm not the only one seeing this and all of the Lords faces mirror mine. They turn me expectantly and Iâm at a loss for what to do.
âThatâs enough, Alys. Thank you.â I rise out of my chair dismissing her.
âIsnât it strange weâre almost kin?â she whispers as she brushes past me. I turn quickly but sheâs already out of the hall and I take my place again in my seat.
âAre you drunk?â I hiss to Daemon who has an amusing look on his face.
âWelcome River Lords,â Daemon rises, ignoring my question. âIâm thankful youâve all deigned to join me in Harrenhal. I know how alluring it is to follow a Targaryen Princess.â he looks to me with a smirk.
âWhile youâve been doing Gods know what, Iâve been rallying for Rhaenyra. Did she send you here to simply cut wood?â my anger very evident in my voice.
âIâve secured the largest castle.â he looks down to me.
âYes, the crumbling, empty castle. What a win Daemon. While youâve been indulging yourself on wine and bastards weâve all been doing our part to help Rhaenyra claim the throne.â I shake my head at a loss. I know we shouldnât be speaking like this in front of the Lords but I canât help it.
âI will not be belittled by you.â Daemon spits his words at me.
âYouâve done it yourself. Everyone at this table can see youâre going mad.â I look to him as he goes to look out the window.
Ser Alfred looks at me in warning not to push him too far. The other Lords are doing well to hide their terror as I verbally challenge Daemon in this hall. Iâm hoping with the right kind of push and verbal berating he will get his head out of his ass and start to fight for Rhaenyra once more.
âIs that true?â he turns to the table of men with narrowed eyes. âWho thinks Iâm going mad?â he approaches and leans his hands on the table assessing everyone.
âGo home, Daemon.â I rise from my chair to switch his focus to me and not our Lords. Benâs hands slip to mine to try and have me sit back down but I canât stand down from this fight, my mother needs me. âRhaenyra needs you at her side.â I look to him with pleading eyes.
âMm, is that what she told you?â he stalks over to me.
âIf you bothered to read any of the ravens from either of us, you know it would be true. Must you always be reminded that you are The Daemon Targaryen? The Rogue Prince? You are a force to be reckoned with. Leave this crumbling castle to me and the Lords and return to Dragonstone. Clear your mind. Stand at her side so we may show a united front.â I can see my words process through his mind as he looks at me curiously.
âYou want this castle for yourself.â he concludes much to my anger and frustration.
âLeave us.â I turn to the Lords who look at me slack jawed. They begin to shuffle out of the hall as Ben lingers behind. âBen,â I warn with narrowed eyes.
âYou think you can handle my daughter?â Daemon chuckles lowly as he looks to Ben. He hasnât called me his daughter in years which is how I know something sinister is going on inside these walls. I walk to Ben and push him outside the door before I seal them.
âItâs saved you before.â Benâs words are hushed as he places the bone knife into my palm. âPlease donât make me regret leaving this hall.â he looks down to me with pleading eyes as I shut the door separating us.
âSit.â I nod my head to the table and slip the knife into an empty sheath at my thigh before I claim a seat across from him.
âDo you plan to kill me in this hall?â he chuckles as he takes a seat.
âI plan to make you see reason.â I study his movements which seem completely different from how this meeting started.
âThen by all means,â he raises his eyebrows gesturing with his hand for me to continue.
âYou and Rhaenyra had a fight so now you sequester yourself into this ruin of a castle? To what end? Tell me your long term goal, Daemon. If I wouldnât have arrived with a host you would still be splitting wood open, along with that bastard girls legs.â I look to him as he seems to find this amusing.
âTo sit atop the Iron Throne. That is my only goal.â he hums.
âTo place Rhaenyra on the throne?â I correct.
âSheâs welcome to join me.â he nods his head as his thoughts seem to drift.
I canât believe what Iâm hearing. I donât know if this was his plan all along or if these halls are truly haunted. We sit in silence and study each other waiting to see who will make the next move. I come up with a plan to get him outside of the castle in hopes he can clear his head and finally see his actions for what they are.
âWhen was the last time youâve ridden Caraxes?â I change the subject hoping to bring him back to the present.
âIt was onlyâŚâ he trails off.
âCome, letâs go for ride.â I rise and look to him in question.
Surprisingly he follows me out of the hall. Ben is waiting on the other side of the door and he walks by my side. I instruct him to send a raven to Rhaenyra and say that Iâm sending Daemon home and hopefully he should arrive tonight, I will escort him if needed. I also have him tell the servants to pack a small bag for Daemon for his travels home.
âPlease return to me.â Ben kisses the side of my head and nods at my instructions.
âšâââď¸ââşââ âď¸ ââşâââď¸ââ âš âšâââď¸ââşââ âď¸ ââşâââď¸ââ âš âšââââşââ
After a long flight our two dragons land in the abandoned countryside. I press my luck and dismount and turn to see that Daemon is doing the same. We meet between our two dragons as they sing a bone chilling song.
âI will go home.â he nods to me with a scrunched brow.
âYou will?â I raise my eyebrow in surprise.
âDo not let that heinous woman inside your head. Donât accept her tea.â he shakes his head as a shutter travels through him.
âUnderstood. Please send me a raven when you get to Dragonstone.â I reply curtly still not caring for him much at the moment.
âYouâve already sent her word of my return?â he asks over his shoulder as he begins to mount Caraxes.
âI have,â I nod my head up to him. âIf you cause her trouble, I will come for you and show you why this growing host has bent its knees.â the threat is laced through my voice like a promise.
âI wouldnât expect anything else, daughter.â he says before him and his blood worm launch into the skies.
I mount Silverwing and sigh in relief that somehow everything worked out. I hug Sliverwings neck and offer her words of love and praise before she brings us up to the clouds.
âšâââď¸ââşââ âď¸ ââşâââď¸ââ âš âšâââď¸ââşââ âď¸ ââşâââď¸ââ âš âšââââşââ
Ben rushes to me once I dismount Silverwing and assesses me head to toe. Once heâs satisfied Iâm in one piece he turns to Silverwing and walks around her and makes sure sheâs taken no damage as well. He offers her soft pats before he returns to me.
âIâll be right back,â he whispers before running back through the gates.
I lay down at Silverwings feet and curl into her. She wraps her head around me protectively as she sprawls on the ground. We hear motion from beyond the gates and we both raise our heads curiously. Ben walks through the gates trailing a couple cattle behind him.
âThank you for keeping my Princess safe, my beautiful Silverwing.â he hums as he approaches her. I rise and come to his side as she begins to chirp him a song.
He leaves the cattle with her and he guides me back through the gates and into the castle. The Lords look at me expectantly as I call a short meeting in the council chambers. I tell them of Daemons hopeful return to Dragonstone and give Ser Alfred leave to follow after him and return to my mother. The Lords look to me in awe that I was able to rein Daemon in and send him back to Dragonstone. I end the meeting with promises of a more in depth discussion on the morrow.
âLetâs go to bed,â Ben hums softly as he offers me his hand.
We quickly make it back to our chambers and he seals the doors behind us. He cups my face and pulls me into a passionate kiss. He pulls apart resting his forehead on mine as we pant as I look up to him with low lids.
âIâm perfectly fine, you didnât have to worry so much.â I breathlessly chuckle.
âI was worried for the King Consort, the look in your eyes in the council chamber was downright murderous.â he chuckles lowly before placing a quick kiss on my lips before he starts to remove my armor.
âGood he was being daft. Someone had to stand to him.â I roll my shoulders once he removes the plates there.
âSometimes you fucking terrify me.â he whispers though his voice is full of devotion as he removes my last pieces.
âMm, Iâm honored.â I hum as I begin to remove my layers of clothing.
âAllow me, my Princess.â he whispers as he lifts my shirt above my head.
He slowly peels the rest of my clothes off. He removes his clothes with haste while pulling me over to the bed. He falls onto his back pulling me with on top of him. He kisses me softly and pulls back with a smirk.
âI think you should sit on my face.â he says lowly.
âWhat do you mean?â I shake my head chuckling.
âPut this,â his fingers reach down and slide through my wetness. âon my mouth.â his eyes are dark as they look to me.
I shiver as his fingers continue to ghost over my core. He begins to slowly pull me up his body until I finally rise and kneel on the bed to look down at him. He pats the side of my thigh trying to coax me to straddle his face. I let out a shaky breath and kneel above his face and look down at his eyes under me.
âThank you, my Princess.â he says placing a soft kiss on each of my thighs.
His hands grab my waist and pull me flush against his mouth. His tongue begins to attack my clit and my head falls back. His name falls off my lips as he continues to swirl against my clit. I grind against his face and immediately stop. He grunts at my stillness and begins to move my hips himself as moans seep out of my mouth.
âBen,â his name is the only thing Iâm capable of saying.
This spurs him on and his tongue moves even more ferociously. My hips begin jerking on their own accord and he moans against me. The vibrations send me over the edge as I come against his face as he keeps lapping at me.
âBen,â I whimper as he still holds me against his face.
His torturous tongue continues to circle my sensitive bud sending shock waves through my body. Iâm a babbling mess above him as he starts to grind my hips against him again. A sob tears through me as I come against him once more. He lifts me off and I collapse face down on the bed next to him as he chuckles.
âYou did so good for me.â he hums as I feel the bed dip behind me. âArenât you thankful you didnât cut my tongue out.â his hands raise my hips until Iâm resting on my knees. I turn my head and scowl at him until he starts swirling his tip around my wetness.
âBen, please,â I whine breathlessly as he leans back.
âHm?â his tone taunting. I try to push my hips back to find him once more but his hands on my hips keep me firmly in place.
âIf you donât fuck me surely I can find someone else who-â
He slams into me and a moan tears through me. He sets a brutal pace that has my face sliding against the sheets. All I can do is arch my back more as his hips repeatedly snap into mine. His trusts become slow and deep as his hands fall to the sides of my waist as he hovers above me.
âWho do you think can replace me?â he grunts in my ear while grinding his hips into mine.
âNo one,â my words barely coherent as my hips chase the pleasure heâs offering.
âThatâs what I thought.â he says arrogantly as he pulls me upright with him.
One of his hands stays at my waist to help steady me as he begins to hammer up into me. The other travels around my front teasing and pinching my nipples until it finds its way to my throat. His long fingers wrap around me while his hand from my waist sneaks down to my sensitive bud.
âI- Ben,â I whine as I come, clenching around him.
âFuck Princess,â his hips slightly falter but he regains his composure quickly.
He pushes me forward back onto the bed while staying inside of me. His pace is crazed as his fingers dig deeply into my hips. Iâm pushing back into him chasing all of the pleasure he wants to give me. My hands are fisted into the sheets while all I can do is whimper and breathe his name.
âOne more time for me.â he growls while bringing his torturous hand between my thighs once more.
When his fingers reach my clit I see stars. I feel like pleasure is being torn from me in waves as I bury my head in the pillow. His hips shutter and warmth spreads throughout me before he slowly pulls out. He collapses on the bed next to me as weâre both panting and trying to catch our breath.
âI know Iâm safe in Harrenhal because the only thing that could make me go mad is you.â he says breathily smoothing my hair.
âBack to your ghost stories already?â I huff as I turn to him and see him smiling down at me.
âšâââď¸ââşââ âď¸ ââşâââď¸ââ âš âšâââď¸ââşââ âď¸ ââşâââď¸ââ âš âšâââď¸ââşââ
masterlist
ps: i literally will write more of this if ppl want đŤŁ
Part 3
#benjicot x reader#benjicot blackwood x reader#benji blackwood#benjicot blackwood#benjicot blackwood smut#ben blackwood x reader#fancast bloody ben#bloody ben fluff#bloody ben smut#bloody ben x reader#bloody ben hotd#hotd smut#hotd fic#x reader#x reader smut#reader smut#smut#daemon targeryan
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maybe some fluff and smut w negan where reader has scars/self harm scars and reader is like looking at them thinking about the past and negan cheers her upđ also heâs like aggresive in bed but is sweet outside all that. also maybe some aftercare included too
thank you so so much for requesting (and for your patience!) I hope you enjoy!
Pairing: Post Whisperer War Negan x f!reader
Tags: mentions of self harm, mentions of suicidal thoughts, cunnilingus, rough sex, pet names, swearing, dirty talk, aftercare
Word Count: 3.5k
The voices around you blend into a monotonous rhythm. At this point in the community meeting, they shouldnât be surprised people are beginning to zone out as they rehash the same talking points over and over again.Â
You try to force yourself to focus but itâs a losing battle. The gist of it, as Negan so eloquently said to you the other day is âAt this rate, the only thing thatâll be on the menu is regret, served with a big glass of desperation⌠but hey, if we gotta start cannibalising each other, I have no problem eating you outâ.Â
That last part earned him a scoff and quick slap to the arm.
Gathering in the heart of what was once the thriving community of Alexandria, the aftermath of the Whisperer's rampage is visible everywhere. Ruined homes, scattered debris of what was once vibrant greenhouses and the scarcity of resources cast a shadow of uncertainty over everyone.
âGabriel is already working on the vegetable patches,â Rosita takes over âbut we need food. Now. So I say we raid the old military base not too far from here. We can round some people up and scavenge through there in a few days time. Darylâs out there now, seeing if itâs worth itâ.
You sit quietly on the porch steps to one of the only houses left habitable, staring down at the scars that map your hands and lead up one of your forearms.
Itâs been a while since youâve truly stopped and studied each one, every line acting as a reminder of a time when pain felt like the only answer.Â
You trace the lines with your fingertips, the blurry memories of these desperate moments slowly coming back to you. Back then, it was a release and the only way to stop the chaos swirling inside your mind. You remember the fleeting relief that followed, how it dulled the aching inside, if only for a moment.Â
In a twisted way, itâs quite funny. Youâve fought so hard to stay alive since the dead began to rise and yet you would still do this, still hurt yourself.
How ironic.
You let out a small sigh, shifting your gaze up to watch Rosita again and pretend like youâre listening.Â
Itâs been a long time since youâve self harmed or even had those thoughts. It feels dangerous to think about though, as if thinking back to those memories is like walking a tightrope of temptation.Â
âIf youâre interested in going to the military base, talk to me or Carol about it,â Rosita begins to finally wrap up the meeting âif not, then go speak to Gabriel or Aaron about helping with the rebuild. We gotta all work on this, no slacking. Thatâs the only way Alexandria can surviveâ. You nod vaguely to her words and thankfully, the meeting ends.Â
As everyone disperses, you stay seated on the porch steps. Your mind feels foggy as it struggles to fully return to the present moment.
Thoughts of the past continue to tug at your consciousness, lingering like a bad smell. A sigh escapes your lips as you run a hand down your face, your eyes immediately going back to the scars that litter your arm.Â
âYou buffering or something?â The question completely catches you off guard, the deep voice coming from behind you.Â
You already know who it is, of course you do, especially since youâre one of the only people he ever approachesâ mainly because he knows you wonât tell him to fuck off⌠without good reason.
âI canât just sit and enjoy the view?â you bat back, your prior feelings instantly getting masked with a facade of sass.Â
Negan leaves the safety of the doorway now that itâs just the two of you. He grunts softly as he sits beside you, looking out at the remains of Alexandria.
 â... what view?â he asks dryly.
You roll your eyes. âJackassâ you curse him playfully.
He watches you out of the corner of his eye for a few moments, silently debating how to go about this. âYou catch everything that was said in the meeting?â he asks, already knowing the answer.
Negan doesnât exactly understand why but he always finds himself drifting over to you, his gaze flickering between you and whatever heâs supposed to be paying attention to. And the past few minutes of the meeting has been a very obvious case of depressive daydreaming, something heâs seen you slip into every once in a while.
âHm? Yeah,â you shrug casually, glancing over at him.
He waits, wondering if youâll crack and open up on your own. When you donât, he tries again.
âYou got notes written out on the lines on your arm?â Negan gestures to your scars, being as blunt as possible about it.Â
Automatically covering your arm with your other hand, you shoot him a glare. Negan has always somehow toed the line, knowing how direct he can be without upsetting you too much.Â
He doesn't push; he simply tests the waters before backing down and letting you take the lead. Negan quickly put his hands up in surrender. He knew there was no easy way of mentioning your scars but the sooner he addresses it, the sooner youâll talk.Â
Heâs expecting a slap or to be cussed out for mentioning it but instead, you stand and march into the house.
Itâs your natural reaction to flee the second someone mentions your scars, something youâve done even when others simply looked in the direction of your arm.
He groans out your name, instantly standing to follow. âDonât just walk off,â he follows you inside, silently thankful that the house is empty, everyone else out working for the day âyou know I didnât mean it like that⌠well, you know I didnât mean to offend yaâ.
You pause, debating with yourself on what to do. You opt to look down at the floor, unsure how to feel about the sudden confrontation.
"Listen, I get it. I saw ya eyeballinâ your arm for half the meeting and not to get all mushy and shit, but those scars donât define youâ Negan's expression shifts, giving way to something more sincere. He steps closer, his tone dropping to a softer register.
âTheyâre not a mark of weakness or worthlessness or whatever bullshit you tell yourself. They show you survived. Youâve got grit and I admire that more than anything.â He reaches out, gently grasping your chin to tilt your face toward his.
Despite every inch of you wanting to run again, you look up. The warmth in his eyes is undeniable and as much as you want to sink further into your defences, you can feel them slowly melt away.
You've always been a fortress in life, sturdy and unyielding. Every brick laid was a lesson learned, or another wound healed.Â
You've perfected the art of keeping people at arm's length, never letting them see the cracks that run beneath the surface. In todayâs world, vulnerability feels like a foreign language and one you've continuously avoided speaking.
âAnd if you ever need to remind yourself just how strong you are,â Negan continues, dropping his hand back down to his side âIâm right here, darlinââÂ
You smile at his valiant offer and before you can stop it, you slowly open up âI just⌠sometimes, even when I donât want to do those things again, I still think back to it. Itâs like Iâm reminiscing⌠and it can be hard to decipher whether my brain is thinking back because I want to be back there again or because Iâm relieved Iâm notâŚâ.Â
You brace for the impact, scanning for the possible retreat in Neganâs eyes but instead, you see nothing but understanding.
âYou donât think I feel like that now that Iâm a supposed free man?â He asks softly âEven now, thereâs still days âusually when I get the hundredth dose of stink eye thrown towards meâ that I wonder if Iâd be better off disappearing back into that cage. Even though I fuckinâ hated being in there!â.Â
A strange sensation almost overwhelms you. The tension in your shoulders strangely ease and for the first time in ages, you're both not just survivors forced to endure; you're simply you and Negan is simply Negan.
Both of you flawed, real, and human. In his presence, vulnerability seems like less of a burden and more of a shared strength.
The air crackles with unspoken words and electric energy. You can almost taste the bittersweet mix of apprehension and desire. It's suffocating and you know you need an escape⌠but not by running away.Â
As you look into his eyes, something shifts within you. The world outside fades and all that matters is in this room. Right now, you want to cast aside any doubts and just embrace the thrill.Â
In a quick move, you step closer to him, invading his personal space. The sombre glint in Neganâs eyes transforms into something deeper.
Without thinking, you reach for him, fingers brushing against his arm and igniting a spark that sends a shiver through you both. Surprise flickers past his face before that signature grin breaks through, wide and knowing.Â
You lean in closer, your voice barely above a whisper. âThis has all been⌠a lotâŚâ you begin, unsure how exactly youâre about to say this âand I think⌠I think I might just needââ
Negan doesnât give you time to finish that sentence, your urge towards him telling him all he needs to know.
In one swift motion, he pulls you flush against him, his lips finding yours in a kiss that ignites a wildfire of emotion. Itâs a blend of urgency and tenderness, a collision of passion that leaves you breathless.Â
Itâs dizzying, the way he makes you feel seen, even if itâs just for this heartbeat in time. You let yourself be swept away, surrendering to the connection that pulls you both together.
âOh I know exactly what you needâ Negan mutters against your lips.
You pull him into another bruising kiss before egging him on further âThen show meâ.
Thatâs all Negan needs, your request allowing him to let loose. Capturing your lips in another kiss, he slowly begins moving forward, forcing you back until you hit against a table. He grabs your waist and lifts you up onto it, his hands immediately going for the zip of your pants.
He kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking as he goes. âYou just sit back,â he instructs, pleased as you lift your hips and let him tug down your jeans, not stopping until theyâre on the floor beside him âlet me take care of everything, babyâ.
In an instant, Negan is kneeling between your thighs, pressing soft kisses along both legs. You can feel the warmth gather at your core, immediately wanting to welcome every inch of him.
âReady to turn off your brain for a bit? Hmm?â Looking up at you through his eyelashes, Negan places a gentle kiss on your clothed pussy.Â
He tries not to smirk as he feels your pussy pulsing desperately for him. Letting out a whimper, you nod.
âAh ah ah,â Negan tuts, his tone as soft as it can be despite his scolding words âyou made me wait a long fuckinâ time to show you a good time, you damn well know Iâm not going to dig in until I hear you say itâ.Â
âFuckâ Negan, yes,â you say breathlessly, glancing at the door as you do âplease, I want youâ. Even with how exposed you are, your mind is too hazy to care about the possibility of someone walking in. All your attention is on Neganâs breath thatâs only a mere few centimetres away from your soaked pussy.
Kissing you through your panties again, Negan hooks a finger around the fabric and slowly pulls it to the side, carefully revealing his gift.
Without a second thought, he buries his face between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips firmly to keep you from squirming away.Â
You gasp loudly, not expecting so much contact so quickly. You bite your lip to quieten your moans but itâs no use.
He looks up at you with his mouth full of your pussy, his eyes gleaming with desire. He sucks harder, his tongue flicking rapidly against your clit.Â
He releases his hands from your hips to rub your ass, pulling you against his face. Mumbling against your most sensitive area, a shiver runs up your spine as he compliments âMmm, best fuckinâ meal Iâve had in years.â
Your legs quiver as you get closer to the edge, your core helplessly clenching around nothing as he eats you out. Heâs determined, youâll give him that. And the one thing Negan wants now more than anything is to taste your release on his tongue. Â
âCome for me, dollâ he growls encouraging, his stubble scratching your inner thighs.Â
With a series of whines and moans for more, you let go.
He keeps his face between your thighs, lapping up your essence as you come undone. Negan waits until you've stopped convulsing before he lifts his head up, wiping your gleaming juices away from his mouth with the back of his hand.
He grins up at you, happy with his work. âWell, you wanted meâŚâ he trails off purposefully, taking a moment to plant a kiss on your leg before giving a slight tug at your panties that are still pushed out of the way âso now youâre gonna get meâ.
Negan hurriedly unbuckles his pants as he stands, freeing his hard cock and giving himself a few strokes, precum already dripping from the tip. Working in tandem, you yank down your panties and drop them next to your jeans.Â
Before your panties have time to hit the floor, Neganâs kissing you again, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips. You immediately wrap your legs around his waist, both of you as impatient at the other.
âThis what you wanted, huh?â Negan continues to talk, rubbing the head of his cock against your slick entrance, âthis the distraction you were looking for?â.
You speak only in moans, going wild at the sensation of his cock being so close to your centre and yet still so far away from actually being inside of you.Â
He cups your chin, making you maintain eye contact as he presses you for an answer âI canât hear you, sweetnessâ.
âPlease, just do itâ you pant, still not over your initial high.
He grins wider at your compliance and slowly pushes into you, his eyes locked onto yours. Your body tenses as he stretches you out in a way that borders on painful. âNegan,â his name leaves your mouth as a haggard breath.
âDonât you worry, sweetheart, you know youâre ready for it, you can take itâ he coos, pushing all the way in before he stops to give you time to adjust.
He groans as he fully sheaths himself inside you, his hips flush against yours. Attempting to be a gentleman, Negan starts slow.
His eyes leave yours, watching as he gradually pulls out. He grunts satisfactorily, filling you to the hilt again.Â
âPlease,â you whimper âdonât teaseâ.
Negan chuckles, though his restraint is weakening âPatience is a virtue, darlinââ.
You tilt your head back, the slow force of Negan inside of you making your brain melt. All you want is already inside of you but itâs not enough. This isnât a time for sweet love making.Â
You want to be fucked, plain and simple.
âYeah and youâre a vice so fuck me already,â you nudge the heel your foot against his ass, trying to make him speed up. Negan smirks again, his ego adoring your words.
The table creaks under you when he picks up the pace, the wet sounds of flesh slapping against flesh echoing through the room.Â
"You can take it, canât you? Fuck yeah, I know you can" He captures your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as he continues to pound into you.Â
You nod desperately, wanting to prove to him that you can take all heâs got to give. He hooks his arms under your knees, spreading you wider and increasing his depth.
His movements become harder and faster, making sure you can feel every inch of him. You yearn it, trying desperately to shimmy your hips on the table to meet each thrust.
Negan pistons into you like a man on a mission, burying his face in by your neck as his hands frantically begin to explore your body. Negan knows he wonât last much longer, but heâll be damned if he doesnât take this opportunity to finally see your tits.Â
His hands push up your shirt, hiking it up in a hurry as your bra comes into view. âWanna introduce me to the girls?â He suggests, his breath coming out in hot pants against your neck.
At this moment, you want everything just as much as he does. Reaching down, you lift up your bra just enough for your breasts to come free.
Even though thereâs no rush, it feels as though you donât have the time to take off your bra properly, feeling that coil tighten in your lower stomach.
His eyes drop to your chest, and he licks his lips hungrily. âGoddamn, just when I thought you couldnât get any betterâ Negan cups your breasts roughly, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh as he continues to fuck into you. He leans down and takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard.
âOh my fuckingââ you groan out, interupting yourself with another moan. You grip the edge of the table enough to turn your knuckles white, your whole body feeling overwhelmed.
He releases your nipple with a wet pop and straightens up, his thumb trailing down to your swollen clit.
âCâmon darlinâ, I need to feel ya clench around me,â Negan slams into you, his rhythm erratic as he nears his own release âone more time, baby, come for meâ.Â
Your body convulses as it hits you. Gasps morph into a wave of quick, sharp pants as you clutch Negan any way you can. Feeling your pussy clamp down on his shaft, Neganâs hips sputter to a stop as the contractions send him over the edge with you.
It takes all of Neganâs willpower not to stay exactly how he is; with his dick buried deep inside of you.Â
But he knows better and quickly pulls out, releasing his load onto your inner thigh instead. He has to nuzzle his face in by your neck, silencing himself the best he can. The last thing either of you need is Negan to get loud and attract people from outside.
The sound of your mixed breaths fill the room as you both come back to your senses. You look down at the mess on your thigh, wondering how much longer you both have until someone comes looking for one of you.Â
âYou know what?â Negan breaks the silence, a sheen of sweat across his forehead as he moves to look at you âI think I like it when you open upâ. He nudges your legs, a deep chuckling escaping him.
âShut up,â you roll your eyes âand get me a towel or somethingâ. He licks his lips, his mind already wondering what your next session will be like, subtly noting how much he likes hearing you order him around.Â
He nods âYes maâamâ.
Leaning down, Negan searches the back pockets of his pants before pulling out a small handkerchief.
âNow,â he announces as he gently wipes his cum off of your thigh âmy cum rag can become oursâ.
âNegan!â You exclaim, your hands busy yanking your bra and shirt back down to push the rag away from you âDonât use your dirty cum rag on me!!â.Â
Negan chuckles, his smile alone keeping your annoyance at bay. âIâm just fucking with ya, it ainât a cum rag,â he wipes the last drop of himself off your leg âbut now that weâve christened it as a cum rag, I guess that means we'll have to use it againâ.Â
Negan winks as if you donât get the obvious insinuation and before you can object, he kisses you. Youâre quick to reciprocate, knowing that thereâs no way youâd turn down an opportunity like this again.
A faint smirk graces his face as Negan pulls back, pleased with the fact that you returned his kiss.
Taking a moment to compose himself, Negan clears his throat âBut seriously, next time you need to talk to somebody, or open up them legs, Iâm your manâ.Â
You smile at the sincerity of his words, knowing heâs completely and utterly serious about both offers.Â
Thinking for a moment, you agree âI willâ.Â
He holds up his pinky âPromise? And then Iâll help you into your jeans?â.Â
You scoff as if heâs inconveniencing you by making you a pinky promise but you both know you appreciate the gesture. Lifting your pinky up to his, they hook together.
âPromiseâ.
And with that, Negan steals one more kiss before helping you back into your jeans.
#negan fanfiction#negan smith fanfiction#negan x reader#negan x you#twd negan#jeffrey dean morgan x reader#negan#negan smith#negan twd#jdm x reader#the walking dead negan#twd fic#negan smith smut#negan smut#negan imagine#negan smith x female reader#negan smith x you#negan smith x reader#the walking dead fanfiction#the walking dead fic
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Something New (18+)
Jessie Fleming x Reader
Synopsis: you and Jessie get teased for your assumed âvanillaâ sex life, you decide to take Jessie on a trip to find some new things to try in the bedroom.
Warnings: suggestion to sex, sex toys, visiting adult store, (handcuffs, blindfolds, strap-on, buttplug, vibrators), none of the toys actually being used.
WC: 2.4k
A/N: if yall want a part 2 in which the toys are actually used, I can do that :)
âOh come on thereâs got to be something you want to try that we havenât?â You pull up the sheet from where it had been kicked off the bed, covering your naked body before laying down next to your equally naked girlfriend.
âI donât know.â Jessie just remained lying on her back, not making eye contact with you. Her chest was still rising and falling quickly, catching her breath.
âOh come on, donât be shy with me, after what we just did thereâs no reason to be shy.â You two had just finished what was supposed to be quick morning sex but turned into a competitive match. Giving each other orgasm after orgasm until about 11am when you both finally tapped out.
âAre you asking because of what happened at Samâs house?â Jessie asks.
The two of you had been at a party the night before at Samâs with the rest of the team, playing various card and board games which led quickly to playing drinking games that somehow always ended up in discussions of everyoneâs sex life.
When you started dating, you and Jessie had agreed to not disclose too much about what you two do behind closed doors to your nosey teammates. It was originally an idea out of shyness on Jessieâs part, you had never minded indulging your teammates in your experience but out of respect for Jessie and your relationship you kept your mouth shut for the most part. You started to like the secrecy of what went on in your beds, no one knew the details, just you and her. So when you were asked the craziest thing youâve done in bed, you sipped away at your drink instead of answering. Unsatisfied with your choice to not answer, Sam began to accuse you and Jessie of having an incredibly boring and âvanillaâ sex life. You tried to defend yourself and Jessie, Jessie being too shy to be any help, the teasing from your teammates had only continued.
âNo.â Youâre quick to answer, not even really thinking. âOkay maybe, I donât know, I donât think our sex is boring though, I love having sex with you. It just made me think and just thought Iâd ask if there was anything you wanted to try.â
You truly didnât find your sex life with Jessie boring at all, she was excellent in bed, able to meet and exceed your needs and the two of you being athletes meant you had the stamina to last as long as you wanted. You collectively owned a strap-on and a vibrator but nothing else. It worked for the two of you, it was great sex. But even great sex sometimes could use something new, something for a little change of pace. You also knew Jessie well enough to know even if there was something she was interested in, she most likely would keep it to herself until you pried it out of her.
âI donât know.â You can tell sheâs withholding information, still too shy to put her ideas into words. But you decide not to push it, it was a little bit of a personal question to throw on her and expect an immediate answer.
âAlright babe, if you come up with anything, you can tell me. Want to get a shower?â She nods, finally making eye contact with you as you both get up from the bed and move to the bathroom. You let the question go unanswered for now, secretly hoping Jessie would come up with something to tell you in the next couple of days.
After a week passes since you had asked Jessie if she wanted to try anything out in bed and not getting any form of a hint or answer, you decide maybe a little field trip would help. Maybe Jessie just didnât know what she wanted to try, maybe this would give her some suggestions.
âWhere are we going?â Jessie asked for the fifth time since you told her to get dressed and ready to leave the house. She claimed she needed to know where you were going so she could dress appropriately.
âIâve told you, itâs a surprise.â You turn back to look at your girlfriend as you grab your keys.
âYou know I hate surprises.â She mumbles as she follows you down the hallway from your apartment out the door. Jessie wasnât a big fan of surprises, she liked having all the information and surprises made her feel out of control.
âJessie itâll be fine, I promise. If you hate it for some reason we can leave. Do you trust me?â
âYes, I trust you.â She gets into the passenger seat of your car and you start driving. You debated having her close her eyes but it didnât feel necessary, you werenât going too far. You drove for another 25 minutes before you pulled into the parking lot of a small shop.
âYou brought me to an adult store?!â Her voice is a mix of confusion and also a little bit scared.
���Yes, I did but we donât have to go in if you donât want to. I just thought, maybe we could look around?â You donât want her to feel forced, but you thought this would be a good way to maybe suggest new ideas for the two of you.
âWhat if someone sees us?â Youâre convinced her voice is raised a few octaves.
âJessie, weâre adults. Weâre also publicly dating, people know we have sex.â
âStill.â She was bouncing her leg, head swiveling to look around the car to the empty parking lot, and she was nervously playing with her fingers. You start to think maybe you shouldâve asked if sheâd want to do this before you made it a surprise. Or maybe just going online shopping wouldâve been a better choice for someone like Jessie.
âBabe,â you place a hand on her knee, trying to settle it, âwe donât have to go in. If you donât want to, we wonât. We also can go in and then immediately leave, whatever you want.â
She doesnât say much, just looking at the door of the shop. You can tell sheâs having an argument within herself on what she wants to do. You let her ponder, she slowly stops fiddling with her fingers, wiping her hands, that were likely sweating slightly on her legs.
âLetâs go in.â
âAre you sure?â Now worried she feels forced by you and like she has to go into the store.
âYeah.â Before sheâs able to get out of the car you grab her hand.
âIf you want to leave, just tell me, weâll go.â She nods and you both get out of the car and walk into the store.
Youâd been in a store like this once before, buying a joke gift for a bachelorette party, but never when looking for something you actually wanted. The toys you owned had been purchased online.
You didnât know where to start so you decided to just take a lap around the whole store, then figuring out where you wanted to look. Jessie followed you around like a lost puppy, her eyes barely leaving the floor, glancing up only to look at you.
You move over to the wall of dildos, you liked the one you had for your strap currently, but a new one wouldnât hurt. Itâs a little overwhelming, every color and size imaginable on the wall, ones that vibrate, ones that spin, ones that have heating elements. That sounded like a fire hazard to you. Your eyes scan over all the options, a few catching your eye, you prefer the fun colors, you look at sizes comparable to the one you already owned. It worked for both of you, no reason to make too much of a change with a new one.
You turn to see Jessie, surprised to see sheâs actually looking up at the wall instead of the floor. You watch as her eyes scan, before setting on a blue dildo that looks to be slightly larger than the one you already owned. Her eyes wander away and then come back to the blue one. You give her a second to make a decision or movement to grab the toy, she doesnât.
âYou like that one?â You point at it on the wall. Jessie doesnât say anything, just turning to look at you and then back to the box and then to the floor.
âJessie, if you want it we can get it.â You notice the slightest nod of her head, but she doesnât make a move to grab it. You sigh, letting out a small laugh at your girlfriendâs shy behavior, given she was the opposite in the bedroom once you got her going. You take the box off the wall and throw it into the basket you had picked up.
Jessie walks away and out of the section you were in, not saying anything to you. Now it was you who was the one following her around the store. She moves over to a wall of assorted items. Small vibrators, bottles of lube, gags, paddles, all sorts of things. You watch her carefully as her eyes scan again. This time they donât stop for too long on anything. You assume nothing has peaked her interest. She takes a few steps around the corner to another wall of items. You grab a bottle of lube off the shelf, identical to the one you already owned, you werenât running out quite yet but there wasnât really such a thing as too much lube.
You scan the wall yourself before following Jessie around the corner. You see her hand reach out slightly toward something before she withdraws when she notices you coming around the corner. Her hand drops but sheâs still looking at it when you come over. Itâs a blindfold and handcuff set.
âReally?â You look at her, shock probably across your face as your hand grabs the box. She nods again, still not using her voice. You throw it in the basket. The thought of your hands restrained to the headboard while Jessie had her way with you, or hers being restrained while you got to tease her had you clenching your thighs together, ready to leave the store and try it out.
You are now just following Jessie around the store, less looking for yourself and just watching her eyes carefully as she has yet to actually say any words about what she wants to you. As you walk by a section of harnesses you see ones with a pocket where you could put a vibrator. You try to think if the one you have at home has a pocket but you canât remember.
âBabe,â you whisper yell across the store to where Jessie was wandering around. She quickly comes over to you. âDoes our harness have this pocket? I canât remember.â
She nods at you and gives a quiet âYes.â
âOh, should we get something for it? We donât have anything small enough to go in there.â You grab for one of the smaller bullet vibrators and hold it up to Jessie, cocking your head to ask her if she wanted it. She just gives you a nod again.
Jessie returns back to where she was before, you follow her over. Sheâs looking at another wall of assorted items. Only instead of walking past this one her eyes are glancing and then looking away only to draw back to some boxes. When you realize what she's looking at, your jaw nearly falls open, but not wanting to make her question her interest you keep a straight face.
âThat?â You point at the silver butt plug Jessie was looking at.
âOnly if youâd want it?â You realize she means she wants to use it on you, if youâd let her. Youâd never tried it, but figured no harm in trying things out.
âSure, Iâm open to trying whatever with you.â You grab the box, throwing it into your surprisingly full basket. You hadnât realized how many things you had picked up on your lap around the store.
Youâve nearly made it through the whole store, taking a last stop to look at some of the lingerie. You flip through the options while Jessie is back to standing behind you as if she was hiding. You find a red lacy matching set and throw it into the basket, you look back to see Jessieâs eyes wide as she sees what you had picked out. You flash her a smirk, knowing sheâs picturing you wearing the outfit.
âYou all done?â You ask your girlfriend. She gives you a nod and reaches into her pocket grabbing out her wallet and handing you her card.
âIâll get it.â You wave off her card but she sticks the card into your hand again. You roll your eyes, taking her card and turning to go check out, leaving Jessie wandering behind you, not wanting to interact with the employees.
You check out quickly and look back to get Jessieâs attention as youâre ready to leave. She follows you quickly out the door and rushes to the car. You place the bag in the trunk and get in the drivers seat.
âSee I knew there was stuff you wanted to try but were too shy to say it.â You poke at her cheek. âYou couldâve told me.â You tease her gently you knew she was shy, she always had been since you met her, she was shy with everyone.
She doesnât say anything but you notice the blush on her cheeks reddening. You decide to leave her be, not wanting to tease her too much. At least not yet, maybe later in the bedroom.
You throw the car in drive and leave the shop, heading home. When you get home you throw the contents of the bag on the bed. âSo where do you want to start?â You ask Jessie turning to see her looking at everything you had bought.
âHandcuffs maybe the new dildo too?â She says with a questioning look, one eyebrow raised at you, no longer shy like she was at the store.
You nod quickly at her.
âGet on the bed.â Her tone is demanding, she reaches to pick up the handcuffs and blindfold as she makes her way to the side of the bed. You lay down and Jessie straddles your waist, her weight holding you to the bed. She drops the handcuffs before grabbing your hands with hers interlocking your fingers and pinning your hands above your head with her strength.
She leans down as if sheâs going to kiss you, before moving to the side to place her lips against your ear. âThis is going to be fun.â
#jessie fleming#jessie fleming x reader#jflem#jessie fleming imagine#woso imagine#woso x reader#woso smut#jessie fleming blurb#jessie fleming smut
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glad I crashed the wedding // oscar piastri
summary: she needed a wedding date. he wanted a reason to spend time with her. but of course, the inn only has one bed, and oscar makes her feel alive in a way she's never felt before.
pairing: oscar piastri x female! reader
warnings: sexual tension, one bed trope, difficult sister relationship (though they love each other very very much), eventual smut, fake dating (Iâve been reading too much Ana Huang lately)
âso let me get this straight,â she began, swirling the coconut-mango-pineapple icy drink in her hand, leaning back against the photocopier. âyou, the great oscar piastri, wants to come home with me to be my date for my sisters wedding, and you donât want anything in return?â
oscar nodded, a wide grin on his face as the copy machine continued to churn out waivers for the hot lap guests to sign. âthatâs exactly what Iâm saying.â
âbut why?â
oscar shrugged, trying to come up with a convincing lie. âbecause Iâm your friend. and this is what friends do.â
y/n sighed, sipping her drink before turning away from the driver. keeping eye contact was dangerous when it was with oscar piastri. when it was with the man who set her nerve endings on fire, who made her stomach churn like the rising tide with a gesture as small as a wave, or an offer to buy her a drink.
who had an accent that made her core throb, soaking her panties right through when she thought about how his voice would sound in her ear if he was whispering some less-than-holy things to her.
âI donât want to subject you to the insanity. you might not want to be friends after you meet my family. we canât even be in the same room sometimes, itâs like dropping a match onto a pile of dry leaves.â
oscar laughed and she tried to ignore the shivers the sound sent up her spine, the rising goose flesh on her arms as she counted the waivers, having to start the count over again more than a few times.
âIâm sure theyâre not that bad.â oscar reasoned, taking the file folder from her, insisting on lightening her load. âI just want you to feel at ease.â
she rolled her eyes, grabbing her drink as she started to walk out of the motorhome. âIâve been living in delias shadow since I was fourteen. sheâs a well respected medical professional; and I went to a three year college. everything she does is perfect. hell, sheâs getting married this weekend and here I am, convincing myself that letting you tag along is a good idea so I donât look like Iâm going to die alone.â
itâs not like she wasnât successful. she was a part of the legal team for one one of the biggest racing names in the world. when Oscarâs contract dispute started, she had been the one who served otmar his papers (and to this day, saying the words âotmar szafanuer you have been served, see you in courtâ was still one of the finest moments of her career).
itâs just that delia always brought out the worst in her, every insecurity, every flaw she hated about herself. their childhood has been fraught with insecurity and competition.
she sighed, leaning against one of the paddocks scratchy palm trees, bark digging into the skin on her arms. oscar was still trying to plead his case, and she wondered why she was fighting it.
this is what she wanted, wasnât it? oscar on her arm, making her feel like she was wanted, loved, even?
she took another sip of her drink before she spoke again.
âweâll probably have to share a hotel room, and my dad might threaten you with his antique saw collection. youâll also have to stop me from killing delia with my bare hands before the big day.â
oscar chuckled, handing back her file folder. âI think I can handle that.â
that goddamn smile. thatâs where it all started, when she first started to think about his lips on hers, his hands in her hair, his mouth wrapped around her nipples.
why on earth was she agreeing to this?
âyouâd better be up bright and early tomorrow. itâs a long flight and my dad is meeting us at the airport. as far as everyone knows, Iâm not bringing a date.â
the feeling of his hand against the small of her back burned into her skin. she could feel his body heat through the thick fabric of her papaya golf shirt as he started guiding her towards the garage where the hot laps were being conducted.
âoscar, what are you doing?â
he grinned at her, baring his pearl-white teeth, in their slightly uneven top row. âif weâre going to convince your dad that weâre together, weâd better start practicing.â
god, this man was going to be the death of her.
ââââ
she regretted inviting oscar along the second they got off the plane.
from the moment they passed through airport security, it was as if a switch had been flicked in her brain, converting him from the serious, driven race car driver she met at the track, to a man straight out of the romance book she had been listening to on the flight. his hand was rooted to her back protectively, and he wouldn't let her carry any of her luggage on her own.
she could get used to this, she thought, watching his t-shirt ride up over his defined abs as he reached into the overhead cabin to pull down her two small suitcases.
they walked peacefully through the terminal, oscar pushing the baggage cart with one hand, his free arm looped over her shoulder.
"you know you don't have to act like my boyfriend until we see my father, right?" she said hesitantly, running a thumb over his knuckles. "my feelings won't get hurt if you don't want to pretend when nobody else is around.
oscar acted like he was about to say something, but he was cut off by a shout across the airport.
"y/n!" the voice shouted. "there's my girl!"
"dad!" she shouted, breaking away from oscar's side to launch herself into her father's arms. the constant travel that came with working in formula one took it's toll, and she didn't get to see her father as often as she liked. she'd had to move to england to work with mclaren, and her family had stayed behind.
she never said she loved that part of her job, but a little space away from her family often made her appreciate them a little more.
"dad, i want you to meet someone." she started, waving at oscar, who lumbered over with the weighed-down baggage cart. "this is my boyfriend, oscar." despite the lie, and how foreign the words were, saying them almost felt right.
my boyfriend oscar.
"i'm carl, nice to meet you." her father said, his voice a slight bit more gentle than his usual grunt.
oscar shook carl's hand, a bit of weariness on his face as he slipped his smooth, dainty hand inside carl's larger, more calloused one. "nice to meet you, sir."
carl raised an eyebrow. "australian? you'd better not be giving my daughter any of those australian kisses."
"dad, what the hell!?" she whined, hiding her face behind her hands as a blush began to coat her cheeks. if there was one thing she definitely was not getting from oscar piastri, it was australian kisses.
oscar thought she was cute when she was flustered. it was such a shame it took him an hot minute to figure out why.
australian kisses are like french kisses, just down under. it was mark who had said it to him first, in an attempt to be funny. as the meaning set in for oscar, he found himself silently cursing mark webber.
but it didn't mean he didn't get half-hard thinking about having his head between y/n's thighs.
________
"you've got to be shitting me."
she knew they would be sharing a bedroom. all of the plus ones were rooming in the chic, trendy motel with the guests who had invited them. and that would have been fine.
except that this hotel only had a queen bed, done up with plush white sheets and a small turquoise blanket draped over the bottom half.
a queen bed that she would have to share with a man that she wished would fuck her brains out.
"i can call the main office if you want." oscar suggested softly, reaching for the door handle. "i can see if they have another room, or they could bring a cot in for me?"
she sighed, raking her hair over her head as she looked around the room. "don't bother. the motel only has fifteen rooms, and it's booked solid for delia's wedding, between her bridal party and the fiancĂŠe's family, i doubt they'd even really have a cot. we can manage, right?"
oscar nodded, hands buried deep in his sweatpant pockets. damn those gray sweats.
"we can make a towel barrier, and the bed is more than big enough for both of us. hell, we could probably have a threesome on that bed and still have space."
did oscar piastri not have a single drop of shame?
she shook her head, trying to forget the thought of a half-naked oscar hovering over her, whispering things in her ear. she made a grab for her suitcase placing it on the bed and grabbing a handful of clothes and a travel bath and body works bottle.
"i'm going for a shower, can we talk about this afterwards? i'm jet lagged and i really just want to sleep."
"sure." oscar shrugged, spreading hismelf out on the bed, arms over his head so that his shirt once again showed off his stunning lower torso.
she tried to stop herself from staring at the happy trail dipping under oscar's waistband, but she failed miserably, her eyes following the small trail of hair down to the waistband of his jack and jones boxers, to the impressive lump underneath his jeans.
if his cock was that big when it was soft, how would it feel when it was hard, throbbing and inside of her. just the mere thought was making heat grow between her legs-
nope. we're not going there today.
she squeaked out some kind of muffled statement, clutching her clothes to her chest and making a mad dash towards the bathroom door. a cold shower should fix this, right?
when oscar heard the shower turn on, the music clicking on soon after, he sat up on the bed, rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes. he knew he should shower as well, but the fatigue of air travel was beginning to set in. a small nap wouldn't hurt, right?
he got up from the bed, socked feet sliding against the laminate floor as he reached for the wheels on the bottom of y/n's suitcase. all he needed to do was close the suitcase, move it out of the way, close his eyes, and then drift of into a peaceful slumber.
all he had to do was hope that he didn't wake up hard, or moan her name in his sleep. it should be easy, right?
wrong. the suitcase slipped out of his grip, almost sliding off the bed before he thanked god for his reflexes, stopping the suitcase from hitting the floor, save for a few articles of clothing.
he leaned down picking up the black busted tour shirt and denim shorts, his breath catching in his throat when he saw what was resting on the area rug underneath.
it was a mass of bright peach lace, the color so close to the mclaren signature papaya, his heart hammering in his chest as he picked it up and unraveled the halter bralette. he bit back a moan as he stared at the lace and mesh that left very little to the imagination.
he started to think about his mild-mannered co-worker wearing it, her perky nipples pressing against the bright, skimpy fabric.
the mere thought sent all the blood rushing straight to his cock.
god, he was down so bad that it should be criminal.
he shouldnât be thinking about whispering dirty sweet nothings against her skin, or sucking a hickey into her thigh before he plunges his tongue inside of her.
he shouldnât be thinking about anything that would make his boner worse.
and that was when he heard the bathroom door open. and there wasnât enough time to hide the sweat seeping from the pores on his skin, the tent in his sweatpants, or the fact that he was still holding the offending lingerie in his hands.
âitâs not what it looks like!â the driver sputters, turning around to face her, and bitting his lip to stop himself from losing whatever composure he has left.
sheâs wearing booty shorts that barely cover her backside, the ass emblazoned with the acronym for the college she attended, her top half covered with a loose-fitting muscle tank sporting a skeleton on a surfboard, the sides of her bare tits just barely visible through the arm holes.
âoscar,â she breathed, voice raspy when she saw the tent pitched in his pants. âdo i turn you on?â
âyou have since the day I met you.â he admits, dropping the bra and slowly moving closer, hesitantly running his hands down her still-warm sides. âtell me, y/n, do you touch yourself when you think about me?â
âi could ask you the same.â she shot back, her voice wavering as she pressed her hand shakily against oscars clothed cock. âyour boyfriend act didnât feel like an act this morning.â
they shouldnât be doing this. it was crossing so many lines. but when oscar looked her dead in the eyes and breathed out a single word, all thoughts of self control went out the window.
"yes."
she pressed her lips against his, nipples springing to attention as she pressed her front against his, his hands moving from her sides to squeeze and caress her breasts, her mouth falling open in a moan against his lips. oscar took that chance to slip his tongue inside her mouth, his hands migrating to her hair as he maneuvered their bodies towards the bed.
she took the lead once her back hit the mattress, practically ripping her tank top off and casting it aside, hands making a mad grab for oscar's plain white shirt while he kissed and marked up her neck.
she whimpered under his touch, and would have been embarrassed had she not been so turned on.
"oscar, please." she begged, spreading her thighs as she tried to grind her core against his thigh. "i need you. i need your cock so deep inside me that i can still feel it three days later."
oscar practically growled at the admission, pulling his lips off her right tit. "are you begging for me, pretty girl? do you want me to make you feel good? hm, want me to treat you right?"
"yes." she breathed, tucking a hand underneath his boxers. "please, oscar."
god, his name sounded so sexy rolling off her tongue. he couldn't think straight when she had her slender fingers wrapped around his cock.
"are you sure you want this? because once i have you, i won't let you go. i'll need more."
"i'm sure, oscar. and i'm not just saying that because i think your mild possessiveness is kind of hot."
oscar smiled, a small, imperceptible blush forming on his cheeks. "you think i'm hot."
"since the day i met you." she hummed, sewing her lips to his, her fingers tugging on his hair, a small moan leaving his throat.
"oh, so pretty boy likes it when i tug on his hair." she giggled. "i learn something new every day."
"keep talking like that, and you won't be able to walk in the morning."
"i look forward to it."
oscar looked around, his eyes settling on the mirror hanging opposite the bed, right next to the bathroom door. he felt his dick throb as an idea formed in his head, pulling away from the body lying prone on the bed.
"shorts off, all-fours on the bed facing that mirror." he ordered, trying to keep a gentle tone in his voice as he clambered off the bed, stripping out of his sweatpants and boxers, hard member jutting straight out as her touched himself, trying to find some kind of release from the pressure between his legs.
she shivered at the command before making a show of dropping her shorts to show off the cream coloured cotton thong she was wearing, laughing to herself when oscar's eyes rolled back in his skull, a moan escaping his throat.
"god, you're going to be the death of me, sweetheart."
she couldn't deny the excitement in her bones as she settled herself on the bed, arousal literally dripping down her thighs when she looked in the mirror and saw oscar looking at her, mounting the bed behind her before slapping his cock against her ass.
in a more tender, loving action, oscar leaned over her, pressing a kiss to the top of her spine.
"you're so pretty." he whispered, the compliment sinking into her skin like tattoo ink before he sunk into her, gripping her hips and closing his eyes to try and show some restraint as she got used to his size.
it was a sinful picture in that motel room mirror as he began to rut into her, watching her tits shake in the mirror, listening to her sweet whimpers and whines and pleads for more.
"god, yes, oscar! feels so-so fucking good, oh my god."
he met her eyes in the mirror, sweat running down his chest and dripping onto her back as he kept thrusting, the same relentless pace. "you're so good for me, pretty girl. so stunning, so sexy with my cock inside you like this. god, you're prefect. perfectly mine."
he practically growled the last word, knowing damn well that he was ruined for any other woman.
-------
they woke up in a tangled heap of limbs, not knowing where one body ended and the other began, lazily exchanging kisses as the sun rose outside.
"oscar, we have to go to the rehearsal." she whined as he kissed her neck. "if we're late, i'm never going to hear the end of it."
"don't care." oscar hums, running his hands up and down her sides. "i would gladly stay in bed with you all day and order room service so we don't ever have to leave."
"osc." she warned, sitting up in the bed and pulling the duvet over her chest. "we're going to the rehearsal. i'm a bridesmaid, remember?"
fifteen minutes later, oscar was in the bathroom steam-cleaning the wrinkles out of his suit while she tried on the bridesmaid dress, caramel fabric falling over her skin as she stared at herself in the mirror.
the same mirror where, just twelve hours before, she had watched oscar piastri fuck her brains out.
she felt heat on her hips, and didn't even need to look up to realize that it was oscars hands, gently caressing her skin through the satin. he gently kissed her shoulder blades, his hands moving to do up the zipper she couldn't quite reach.
"you look beautiful." he hummed, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. "you deserve better than me."
she giggled softly, tugging his arms away from her hips and around her waist, sinking back into his arms. "no i don't. you're exactly what i want, oscar. you're funny and you're sweet and you make me feel like the best version of myself. you're also really great in bed."
oscar laughed, kissing her softly. he would never get tired of feeling her lips against his. "the boyfriend stuff was never an act. and i volunteered to come with you this weekend because i wanted to get to know you off the track. who you are when you aren't serving legal papers to team principals."
"i only did that once. i missed out on the chance to fight with chip ganassi since arrow has a different legal team." she laughed. "i really like you, oscar."
"and i really like you too, y/n. my perfect, beautiful girl."
-------
the wedding came and went, marking the end of y/n and oscar's dream weekend, the reminder that very soon, they would all be going back to their real lives.
that she and oscar would need to figure out where they stood with each other.
but she didn't want to think about that. not while she was dancing with her sister, the pair of them finally getting along as they screeched the words to an old tove lo song.
oscar watched from the table, sitting next to y/n's mother and making polite conversation as his lovesick eyes found her under the disco lights.
"someone is feeling lovesick tonight." mrs. y/l/n hummed. "we heard you two last night. the motel walls aren't as thick as you think."
oscar blanched, coughing on his drink. "you heard all that?"
y/n's mom laughed. "her father had to leave the room and get a coffee before he walked in there and strangled you. y/n is always going to be his little girl. but she's growing up, and i think if she has you in her life, she'll be okay. you're good together."
oscar was about to say something else when a shout rang through the room. "delia is doing the bouquet toss!"
all of the members of each wedding party gathered in the middle of the floor, y/n's sister standing on the dj stand, her white dress brushing against the floor and picking up specs of dust and dirt, as she lifted the bouquet over her head.
y/n mother rested her hand on oscar's forearm, staring at him with a knowing look, hoping her other daughter would be the next to tie the knot.
sure enough, it was almost like fate as the boquet of white roses soared into the air, nailing y/n right in the face and tumbling into her arms as the other bridesmaids cheered. her face was pink and she was trying to hide behind the bouqet as delia came to pull her into a hug.
"i love you, sis. and i'm sorry i didn't know how to show it when we were younger." delia gushed, kissing her baby sister on the forehead before nodding her head at oscar. "you've got a good one. don't let him get away."
"i won't." she laughed, wiping at the tears threatening to fall down her cheeks. "i love you, deels."
the song changed, a slow kesha ballad humming through the speakers as the singer crooned about her old flame, and how they couldn't hold a candle to her current love. she turned away from her sister, who had just gone to find her new spouse to dance with, only to see oscar, looking dapper in his black suit and bowtie.
"can i have this dance, my love?"
she smiled, leaving her bouquet with her mother before stepping into oscar's arms, wishing for nothing more than to wrap herself around him like a woolen sweater. she rested her head against his chest, allowing herself to fall into him while they swayed to the music, his lips pressing a kiss to her forehead as dolly parton began to sing the second half of the song.
man, she could really get used to this.
get used to oscar.
TAGS:
@magnummagnussen @httpiastri @sidcrosbyspuck @scuderiamh @silverstonesainz @lorarri @love4lando @thatsdemko @diorleclerc
#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x reader#the cozy collection 2023#formula 1 x reader#formula one x reader#oscar piastri x y/n#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#Spotify
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To Be Held
Pairing: Crosshair/Reader
Words: 682 (fic vignette)
Tags/warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, semi-established relationship
Summary: In a quiet moment together, you inquire about Crosshair's scar.
A/N: Many drabbles sit untouched in my notes app. I'm getting tired of staring at my longer WIPs and I think I just need to share something at this point. Please accept these crumbs and let me know if this resonates with you. đ Part 2 is here.
Your touch is feather-light against his temple. He allows his head to lay limply across your lap and despite how intimate it feels, he canât find any reason to care. Not when your fingertips trail back and forth from his cheeks to his neck. When they reach his shoulders, you press into him, making quick work of any lingering tension.
âWhatâs the story behind this scar?âÂ
He goes rigid and you must notice because you pause your minstrations as a result.Â
âIâm sorry.â
A pause.Â
âI⌠we donât have to talk aboutââ
âBracca,â he interrupts you, causing you to quiet.Â
âIt happened on the planet Bracca while I was still serving the Empire.â
His voice feels hoarse from disuse. When your touch resumes, albeit with more hesitance, so does he.
âI was⌠targeting my brothers and Omega. But I was facing an ion engine when it ignited. I... couldnât get away in time.âÂ
The breeze picks up once more, the curtains billowing in the background. Crosshair welcomes the salt-licked sensation thatâs brought in by the wind, finding that it contrasts nicely against the rise of his own internal body temperature.Â
His body seems to remember the moment far too well. Crosshair has to tamp down against the rising fear, the rising anxiety that threatens to overtake him. He feels it all creeping over his shoulders but this timeâŚ
This time, your touch is already there to combat these ghosts. It takes your lithe fingers, your dexterous thumbs to press into him and he finds that maybe he can move on from these moments, these ghosts.Â
If only while by your side.
While you remain silent, he reassesses. Perhaps with time, youâll come to find that he isnât worth the commitment, that his baggage is too daunting to carry. With each layer that he bares before you, he finds that his confidence in being vulnerable is challenged. Will continue to be challenged. He wonders that with time, itâll ease.
You sigh.Â
He waits, anticipating a form of rejection. He wonders if looking up into your eyes would reveal a look of disgust.
You don't give him much time to ponder further.
Your hair trickles against his nose before he registers that youâre leaning down to cradle his head to your chest. Soft hands support him, and the sound of your heartbeat thrums against his cheek, his temple.Â
Itâs a rather nice sound.Â
âYou have been through so much.âÂ
It takes him a moment too long to parse the meaning of your words. These arenât words that should be directed towards him. No, not with the mountain of sin weighing heavily on his shoulders.Â
Instead of accepting them, he focuses on your heartbeat, the sound a balm for these thoughts.
Itâs a soft, lulling thing.
But your caress against his temple, his scar, is what brings him back to you.Â
He doesnât know what to say to that. HeâŚÂ
His chest tightens because yes. He can admit that he has gone through enough. An arm snakes around you in his own attempt to return the embrace, the action surprising yet natural.Â
You tighten your hold on him in response.Â
âIâm sorry, Crosshair. But Iâm so glad youâre here now,â and he opens his eyes to find that his gaze is clouded, his cheeks dampening as he tries to inhale steadily, âhere, where youâre safe. Here, with me.â
Thereâs a crack in your voice and it causes his heart to stutter. He isnât used to this. This.. feels too good to be true. Is he dreaming? The rational side of him berates such a thought because obviously heâs awake and heâs here, with you, with kind words directed towards him, their meaning a nectar which he feels drawn to, finding that heâs ravenous for more.
Instead of speaking, he uses his palm on your back to pull you closer, the pressure of your chest against him welcome and grounding. Without a second thought, his fingers brush against your spine, your shirt catching against the callouses on his hands.
Heâs never been good with words anyway.Â
Part 2 is here.
#crosshair/reader#tbb crosshair/reader#crosshair/you#crosshair x reader#tbb crosshair#tbb#the bad batch#tbb fanfiction#the bad batch fanfiction#jillianwritesfanfiction
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Decent Man Pt. 2
The first part
Pairing: Cregan Stark/fem!reader
A/N: This ones a little longer than the last one. Maybe a little more suggestive but nothing wild just kissing. Not sure if I should make another part?
Summary: The follow up to the original post. You continue to navigate your rushed and arranged marriage to the Lord of Winterfell, but he is much more earnest than you believed.
As Cregan had mentioned, there was hardly any courting to begin with. It seemed the only thing you learned about him was his parentage and more information on his family line than you knew what to do with. Perhaps you dwelled on the matter for too long, the last bit of light was gone from the horizon and the dim candlelight could not do much for you. Sleep would surely be hard to find as a result of your worrying, or maybe you were just homesick. Perhaps you could try and fetch the maester for a draught once you've changed.
Reaching behind you, you unlace the rest of your gown. Itâs an ivory silk embroidered with the details of your house sigil. You try to free yourself of your corset but a string has been caught on some invisible clasp.Â
âI forgot to mention,â Cregan falters for a moment as he realizes his intrusion, he seems like he might avert his gaze but his eyes never drift from you. Of course they stay firmly fixed above your neckline. âI am sorry, I did not realize you wereâŚâ What you have on under your gown is more revealing but you are still clothed, you feel no shame. Besides, if your lord husband cannot see you in only this who can? Your hair has become slightly unkempt as well, no longer so tidy and pinned but loose and deviating from its original style. You swear at one point you could see Creganâs mouth slightly agape but you donât dare to comment on it.Â
âItâs alright, we are wed now are we not? And, I cannot seem to free myself from this corset.â Youâre not sure where all this sudden bravery has come from but if you are going to be married to the fiercest man in the North you should wield it more often. Cregan composes himself with impressive swiftness and makes his way behind you. Just before reaching out to touch you he stops himself as if heâs been caught in the act.Â
âShall I fetch one of the ladies in your service to assist you?â Heâs so close that you can feel his warm breath on the side of your neck and by then youâve made up your mind.Â
âNo, it's fine, I wouldnât want to interrupt them. Do you think you could,â Before you can finish your sentence you feel the tips of his fingers graze your back through the fabric as he carefully unlaces you. It seems as if his hands have left invisible indentations on your skin, long after heâs pulled away you feel his touch. âThank you.âÂ
He turns away from you now, heading towards the wardrobe where a slim section has been filled with what little clothes you brought with you. He picks out a thicker cloak youâve brought, not nearly warm enough to brave the worst of the northern weather but good enough to sleep in.Â
âWill this do my lady? I could lend you one of mine own as well if you do not mind.â He mustâve noticed the goosebumps rising on your skin. Unbeknownst to your husband it was from more than just the cold.
âI would like that, but I think first I must admit; I've been far too hasty to judge. You, by all accounts seem to be a truly decent man and I know we still do not know each other well but,â You need to take a deep breath to continue as heat rushes to your face. âPerhaps we might simply share the bed, as any couple would? That would surely keep the cold at bay.â Evidently your husband has become flustered as well, a red flush creeps up his neck and face. Barely visible to you but all the more endearing in the dim light.Â
âAre you sure, we need not make haste, my lady. I know this marriage was somewhat rushed, for the both of us and there is no need to prove anything to me.â It was not lost on you that this marriage was advantageous, for more reasons than one. Arranged marriage was not something you looked forward to. As naive as it may be, you always hoped to marry someone youâd already come to love. Maybe some gallant knight or Lord, handsome and strong. But what's more likely to last is a marriage built on trust rather than infatuation. You have all your life to love your lord husband, tonight you can trust him.
âYes I know. I'm grateful for the patience you've shown me but I think it is no longer necessary. You're an honorable man, I can see that plainly now, I should've seen it from leagues away. I'm sure.â You take his hands in yours, as he once did and the blush on his face only becomes stronger. You lead him to the bed and urge him to sit, he leaves space between his legs for you to stand. All the nerves have dissipated by now, no room for hesitation or second thoughts. You place an almost feather light kiss on his cheek. âOne for your kindness,â You kiss his other cheek as well, much more earnestly this time. âAnd another for your generosity.âÂ
His eyes cannot seem to part from yours now, ardent and serious. âThere are many qualities Iâd like to praise you for as well but I am not sure there are enough hours in the night.â He cups your face in his hands and kisses you, firm but passionate. His lips, like the rest of him are warm and all encompassing, you couldnât pull away if you wanted to. You have to will yourself not to chase them when he parts from you. Itâs nothing like the kiss you shared during the wedding, quick and chaste. âThat was for your compassion.â A large thumb swipes against your cheek and you canât help but lean into it. âShall I give you another for your loyalty?âÂ
âPlease.â This one lasts much longer, his hands have drifted to your waist now and your hands rest on broad shoulders. His lips press into yours strongly but he doesnât demand anything of you. Even as he runs his tongue over your kiss-swollen lips heâs considerate. When you separate itâs with a contented hum and an understanding that if neither of you sleep now you never will. âPerhaps we should retire?â You suggest more than ask, snuffing out the candle by your bedside.Â
âYes, I think that would be best.â Before you can fully remove yourself from his grasp he holds onto the thin fabric of your shift to keep you still. In nothing but moonlight the only part of him you can see is the shine of gray eyes.Â
âWe were made one by this union, whether it was what either of us longed for marriage is our duty now. However there is no other woman Iâd wish to be bound to in sight of the Gods. You are mine now, and I am yours.â
#house of the dragon#reader insert#cregan stark#cregan stark x reader#cregan stark x you#cregan stark/reader#cregan stark/you#hotd fanfic
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Drew Starkey getting jealous of the chemistry between Jacob Elordi and actress!reader who's his girlfriend, since she plays a role in a movie... Can u please đđ
Something Better
Pairing:Â Drew Starkey x Reader
Warnings:Â N/A
Pronouns:Â She/Her
Word Count: 0.5K
Masterlist
Ever since watching Drew in The Other Zoey, Y/N has wanted to be in a rom-com. He just made it look like so much fun and she loved the idea of bringing a romance to life. So when she got the opportunity to play the romantic lead in a movie, she jumped at the chance to play the love-scorned woman, who is about to find love again thanks to her male co-star. âI have no idea what you are talking about, Owen,â Y/N recites, shrugging as she continues to pretend to file the documents. Jacob leans against the filing cabinet, âCome on, Abby. You know what Iâm talking about.â His hand twirls in her hair as his breath begins to hit her ear. Y/Nâs own breath begins to rise and fall at the sensation. Anyone watching the scene unfold canât deny the chemistry they see between the two actors. Y/N elbows the boy away from her, âNot a clue.â She storms off-screen toward her mark off-set. âCut,â the director calls from her chair, causing Y/N to pause in her tracks. âThatâs a wrap on this scene. Take a break until we set up the next scene.â At the news, Y/N goes looking for her guest of the day. She easily spots his tall stature, running into his arms immediately. âWhat did you think, Bub?â she seeks his approval with her arms around his neck.Â
Drewâs arms slot into the dip of her lower back, âYou were amazing, Beautiful. Such a great actress.â Jacob comes up behind the couple and places a friendly hand on her shoulder. âYou did great during this scene, Y/N/N. As always,â Jacob praises with a smile. Drew pulls Y/N out of Jacobâs touch and closer to him. His eyes narrow to slivers at the other man and his back straightens to close the height difference a little more. Y/Nâs gaze darts between the two men. She holds back a little giggle, âThanks, Jacob. I think Drew is hungry so we are going to go get something to eat.â Jacob nods at the pair and allows them to excuse themselves from the conversation.
Her head tilts to look at her boyfriend as they head toward Craft. âYou were jealous,â she teases, poking at his cheek. Drew scoffs and stares straight ahead, âNo I wasnât. Just because you have chemistry with him doesnât mean that Iâm jealous of him.â âYou think I have chemistry with Jacob?â she questions with a frown. Drewâs shoulder rises, âMaybe.â She stops walking and plants herself in front of him. Her warm hand is placed on his cheek to soothe him. âThe only reason why it seems like I have chemistry with Jacob is because I was doing my job. I was pretending to,â she explains. âI donât need to have chemistry with you because I didnât need to feel a spark when I first met you to fall for you. My heart already knew I belonged to you long before I met you.â He isnât sure if her words made entirely sense, but it makes sense to them and that is all that matters. It helps placate the green-eyed monster threatening to show its ugly head. âIf thatâs true, then who needs chemistry. I have something much better.âÂ
Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming
#drew starkey#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey imagine#drew starkey oneshot#drew starkey one shot#drew starkey fanfiction#drew starkey x y/n#drew starkey x you#drew starkey x female reader#drew starkey fluff#drew starkey fic
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Huge changes are coming to my Rise RamblingsâŚ
Hey yooo!
So as the title suggests, there will be some major changes to the RiseStarKiss blog going forward.
The full explanation is below but I also included a TLDR version at the end of the post.
ââââ
Instead of continuing to post my long form âRise Ramblingsâ on Tumblr, Iâll be taking them to the small screenâŚIn other words, my larger Rise Ramblings will be in video format from now on. I also want to go back and adapt my older/more popular Rise Ramblings to video as well.
And for that reason, Iâm starting a YouTube Channel!
As a more detailed explanation, Iâve found that creating the long form posts on Tumblr just doesnât allow for the freedom and flexibility that I need to fully express myself. Even in my older posts I had to leave so much content on the chopping block in order to facilitate readability.
But not anymore!
So, what is the plan?
Well for starters, my channel, RiseStarKissStudios, is now live.
Also, I plan on creating ONLY Rise of the TMNT content on this channel.
Why? Mainly because from what Iâve seen, usually when Rise is addressed by large channels itâs generally looked down upon. Other than that, Rise is ignored completely!
*tsk* So Iâm going to give ROTTMNT the spotlight it deserves.
đđ
But I canât do it aloneâŚ
Thatâs where you come in.
All I ask is for your support and patience.
Support comes in the form of:
⢠Heart and Reblog this post ⢠Subscribe to the channel and Hit the Bell to be alerted to when videos drop ⢠Spread the word about my channel and the amazing ROTTMNT content Iâll be creating there
And lastly, if you are so inclined, you can support my Kofi.
Iâve added better payment methods and monthly contribution options.
As thanks, the username of every monthly contributor will appear at the end of my YouTube videos as a part of the âMad Dogs!â
Itâs the least I can do. đŁđđ
Also, the reason I ask for your patience is because Iâll be writing, editing, and creating the content all on my own, as well as continuing my âDon the Fashionistaâ comics in tandem. I also am writing/composing the music for the Rise Rambling series, of which is all Rise inspired.
I know it will be a lot of work, nonetheless, Iâm excited for this new frontier, and if things go even slightly to plan, my best ROTTMNT content is yet to comeâŚ
So, letâs have some fun, shall we?
â¤ď¸đ§Ąđđ
ââââ
Hereâs the TLDR!
This is my brand new YouTube Channel, RiseStarKissStudios, that will be Rise Content Exclusive!
Subscribe & Hit the Bell so you donât miss a video!
Reblog this post to show support and spread the word!
Support my Kofi if you are so inclined.
Letâs have some fun with Rise, shall we?
#RiseStarKissStudios#YouTube Channel#Rise Exclusive Content#Rise Analysis#Rise Ramblings#YouTube#YouTube Video#ROTTMNT#TMNT#Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles#Rise Of The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles#Rise Of The TMNT#TMNT2018#TMNT 2018#TMNT 2K18#Unpause ROTTMNT#Unpause Rise Of The TMNT#Save ROTTMNT#Save Rise Of The TMNT#Save Rise Of The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
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13. hello yellow
frankie morales x f!reader | chapter thirteen of do me yourself
summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.
wordcount: 4.3k (she became a biggie) chapter warnings: reference to anxious!reader. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. an: this is the one you've been waiting for... .
prev chapter | series masterlist
key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics
It grows on your tongue on a cooler morningâthe birds having only just begun chirping, the sun really only just rising. But he's there, truck parked outside as he brings you coffee, for no other reason than just because.
It's almost hard not to say the three words.
They thicken in your throat when you surprise him at work, having already spoken to Harry, asking if you can steal him for an extra half an hour. His face brightens, practically illuminating when he sees you at the register. It continues to do so when you take him back to the place where the two of you had lunch, his face beaming.
Youâre not sure how the words donât escape there and then.
There are a bunch of moments saying them could have been right. It would be so easy to let them slip out, but then he'll say something that makes you laugh, or his phone will go off and the conversation shifts, and you wait a little longer.
But you donât just want right, you want perfect.
Just like him.
You know how we love Harold?
Yes?
He might have recommended me to a friend of his for some paintwork.
This sounds like a good thing, yet it feels very bad for me.
The only date the man can do is the day I said weâd go to the beach.
If this isnât you asking me to come and help you be your a-paint-tice Iâm going to be really let down.
You want to come paint a manâs house with me?
I want to do anything with you, Butterscotch.
It vibrates from two rooms awayâbuzzing, buzzing, buzzing.
Your feet rush for you, socks almost making you a health hazard as you round the corner from your bedroom to the hallway. A laugh trying to escape from giddiness as your palms press into your off-white walls, before using it for leverage to continue.
Moving, almost running, not looking where youâre going, only realising at the last second when your foot collides with it.
Pain.
It pulses and makes tears spring to your eyes instantly. The hurt is more than radiating, it erodes, grows and pounds.
Fucking toolbox.
Hand grasping it as you half-hobble to the little side table where your phone almost topples off.
Butterscotch <3
A caller ID that usually brings an immediate smile to your face, and still, even as you clutch your foot in your hand and drag your finger across the screen, it somehow still does.
âHey, Iâm almost thereâdid you want lunch in or out?â
Stuffing a wince down your throat, you blink back fresh tears as your thumb presses down on a particular spot. âI need to show you something but maybe out?â
âYou okay?â No, you want to hissâwanting to add extra Oâs and everything. âYou sound off?â
Swallowing bitterness, you try to smile as you lower your footâputting some weight on it as you suddenly become warm, and uncomfortable.
âRainy?â
âButterscotch, I bet youâre one streetâyouâre literally pulling up.â
You swear you hear him grin. Almost being able to tell even from the way he puts his vehicle in park that his smile is growing into his cheeks and cascading over his eyes. It makes your own appear, somehow rising to the surface and kicking its feet furiously to appear.
By the time youâd end the call, quickly check your foot inside your sock and put it back in place, your eyes catch his coming through your front door. Letting in amber streams of sunlight that paint across the hardwood in warm, honeyed hues. Bringing in warmth, a calmness, the pain suddenly non-existent when you see him slide out the key from the keyholeâthe one youâd told him to keep, the one youâd give him, told him to use.
The sight pulls at something inside of you, making it easier to smile, to beam as he closes it behind him and walks himself up to youâmouth pressing to yours. The taste of coffee and mint flooding your mouth, your fingers full of his curls as his hand presses to your lower spineâbodies flush, his keys clanging in the air.
âYou know I think youâre beautiful,â he whispers, teeth teasing your bottom lip before releasing it with a pop. âBut, baby, what are you wearing?â
His hand slides down the plastic, water-proof full-body overalls you have on. It rustles, making your skin even warmer when he takes another long look at you, and laughs.
Not a giggle.
Not a quiet, hidden and disguised laugh. A full-on roar of laughter.
âI got it for next week,â you exclaim, heat rising up your neck. âYou told me Iâd need to wear something that would cover meâwanted to make sure it was okay.â
âBaby, I meant not your romperâ'cause youâll get paint on your legs. I didn't mean a⌠hazmat suit?â
Folding your arms, you take a step back, face scrunching in a wince youâre not sure he notices as you roll your eyes before turning on your heels to change. âIâm new to this.â
âI know, I know,â he says, trying to stifle his laugh, hand reaching out. âBaby, wait, Iâm sorry. Okay? You just donât needâfuck, Rainy. I can see your ass through this.â
âNo, you cannot.â
âI fucking can.â
Letting him pull you into his arms, you shake your head, stupidly unable to stop yourself from grinning, before his lips brush over yours. Your nails digging into the t-shirt on his waist, mouth parting as he eases you back, a grimace hidden against his tongue as his knee nudges between your plastic-covered thighs.
âFrankie,â you whisper, it leaving your tongue like a whine.
He only hums in response, it vibrating against you, fingers tightening in his curls as his knee rises that bit more, friction so readily there, easily able to rock your hips if you so want to. Until it rustles, furrows, a noise so unsexy you feel him slowly grin against your mouth.
âCanât believe you just wore underwear under this,â he teases, dropping his knee.
Your breath finds your lungs with more ease as you roll your lower lip between your teeth, admiring him, unable to stop ogling the man who is very much all yours after the position he just had you in.
âI should change before we go out for lunch,â you mumble. âBefore I flash everyone.â
Moving away from him before he can stop you, you let out a groan as your bad foot flattens, unable to hide the misstep. Hearing him call your name, you're quick to wave him off. Digging your nails into your palm as you take (what feels like a thousand) steps until youâre unzipping the ridiculous plastic, all-in-one, and begin yanking drawers and doors open until youâre standing in something more appropriate for lunch.
Half-closing your bedroom door behind you, you donât need to call for him, you know where heâll be. Finding him exactly where you expected, tape measure in handâright in front of one of the office windows.
âThought you could do that in your head.â
Snorting, shooting you a look over his shoulder, he grins. âWanna make sure Iâm exact.â
âFor me?â
âFor you.â
Leaning against the frame, not obviously showing youâre taking the weight from your now pulsing foot, you try to smile. Listening as he begins telling you about getting something for your windows, instead of thinking how you should ice it, get him to wrap it, maybe ask himâpolitelyâif heâd put his fucking toolbox away between visits before you actually break something.
Somehow, you hear enough to follow what heâs saying, about how blinds would help, that theyâd give you more daylight while also shielding you if you wish to work in the darkâtheyâd be more flexible, modern. He could help you fit them.
And it dawns on you, that while you've had it in your head about curtains, this is a thing you should have thought of yourself.
A thing which feels so obvious now heâs said it that it irks you that you havenât. Because blinds would be better. Digging a hole in you, making you feel silly, stupid, and foolishâ
The realisation makes you pinch your forearm and take a deep breath. You re-centre yourself, thinking about the one image that inspired all of this, imagining it with blinds instead of what had remained fixed in your head, hung and stuck.
The problem with desiring something inspirational is that it isnât always tailored to the person who desires it. To you, who will be using the room. Yet, Frankie has thought of youâlike the considerate, beautiful man that he is.
âFrom your face, you donât want blinds?â he asks.
Your mouth opens, before closing. Putting some weight down as your eye narrows in painâit floods through you as you try not to frown. âItâs not thatâI just thought curtains. Thought I preferred the way curtains look, is all.â
Frankie shrugs, staring out of the window, before glancing back. âCurtains it is then.â
âBut, blinds do make sense.â
And you can see it, the way he chews his tongueâthe way he swallows words he wishes to say. It flares something within. Rolling his head on his shoulders, and scratching the back of his head, he smiles.
âBut you want curtains.â
âI did.â
âThen have curtains.â
Heâs being niceâthatâs what you remind yourself. Heâs being kind and thoughtful. Heâs taking what youâre saying and giving you exactly that.
Yet it feels⌠bad.
It makes you all of a sudden not want itâanger bubbling, trying to grow wider in your stomach. Instead, wanting him to tell you that you should have blinds, for all the reasons heâs listed, because it makes sense. Theyâre practical, and easy; itâll block the sun out if itâs a bright day. Theyâll even look modern; following the theme of the room.
And the fact he isnât reminding you of that makes you mad. So much you feel it clawing up your throat, all ash and brimstone; flames and bonfire.
But youâre not mad at him. Youâre mad at yourself for not looking. Youâre not mad at him, just his toolbox. Youâre not mad at him. Youâre madâ
It repeating. Swirling. Shifting around the imaginary plug hole in your head as you wait for it to fall through and douse whatever it is that is brewing inside of you.
âI didnât think of it like you did, so letâs have blinds.â
âItâs okay, itâs reallyââ
âBut, they make sense, Frankie. You just said so.â
Jaw tightening, he hides his annoyance with a smile. âBut, baby, you donât want blinds, so let me just measure forââ
Standing straight, unable to hide the miniature sob from pain, you follow it with: âStop being nice to me.â
He blinks. Both at your tone and the words that snap through the air as your palm pushes against your forehead, hoping to quiet it, the simmering anger that bubbles and thickens like soup.
âRainyââ
âYou donât⌠Iâm not broken, Frankie. Sometimes we can just⌠disagree. You can tell me Iâm wrong.â
âI know that.â
He says it so quickly, all with a colder edge to his words. Ice threatening to wrap around them, freeze, as they go to land, pellet. Bruise against you.
Tilting your head, you stare at himâknowing you should stop. Remove your finger from the metaphorical scab. âDo you? Because ever since the other month youâve been⌠extra nice.â
âAnd thatâs a problem?â
âIt is when Iâm furious with you,â you snap, itâs out now, you think.
Chest tight, things unfurling and uncoiling, flames ripping through you as though all the emergency doors have flung open and allowed it to breathe through every part of you.
âWhen Iâm mad that I tripped over your toolbox again because you didnât put it away. Because you likely did something nice for me and forgot. But now Iâve really hurt my footââ
ââBaby, why didnât youââ
But you ignore him. Not even waving him off, just continuing, ââand that I canât decide if I want curtains or blinds and yet you make a very good argument for blinds that I hadnât considered and you always do thatâhave amazing ideas, great insight, plus, you seemingly know me better than I know me, which is so lovely, but I'm mad at myself for not thinking of it. But, you, you didn't do that, because you understand me.â
âIs this a bad thing?â
No, you think as your mouth jams shut. Staring. Blinking. Because of course, it isnât. Itâs just that itâs never been something youâve had, never experienced, never thought could possibly be given to you.
A thing that you both love, so much, but also feel is going to be ripped from you at any moment. Better not to have it, than lose it. No skill to prepare for this level of care, so used to having to make decisions and choices and have no one offer to help.
But heâs not going.
Heâs standing, hands at his sides, line between his brows. Confusion trying to crawl over him and lather his features, but he seems to be fighting it, stopping it. His eyes somehow remain soft even as your mouth hands open, more words set to spit and fireâ
âI need. I need a moment.â
And you donât wait for the okay or the sight of his face falling.
Just moving, hurrying. Feet trying to carry you through to the kitchen as your palms use the wall as a crutch to do so, finding a counter to rest on, to lean on, to breathe against as thick, uncontrollable tears begin to paint your cheeks. Whether from the pain or the fact youâd snapped. Unable to hold them back from rumbling out when your forehead presses against cool wood as you take breaths in and out, in and out.
Doing so until the pain dries on your cheeks and youâre merely resting, taking the moment you said you needed before you hear him clear his throat. Before he asks if he can come closer and if he can look at your foot, two things you quickly nod forâwanting to take it back, apologise, even explain. Instead, you let him aid you up onto the counter, slide the sock from your foot assess it and turn it, finger brushing over your skin as light as a feather as he asks does it hurt here, or what about here?
It makes your heart flutter.
Makes it even harder not to blurt three words at him, when really he deserves a chorus of them for what in the hell just happened. So, you lead with:
âIâve decided that I donât like fighting with you.â
Snorting, he picks up the sock from the floor, easing it slowly back over your toes. âItâs not my favourite thing we do together either.â
Smirking, you stare down at him. Watching him. âI donât want you to think Iâm fragile. Thatâs all.
âThat you canât challenge me just because of what happened the other month. Because itâll happen again. But I can still make choices, you can still tell me Iâm wrongâsometimes, I need you to tell me Iâm wrong, because if you agree with me all the time, you wonât push me to be better. Iâll just stay stagnant, and choose curtains when I really think Iâll regret it and want blinds.â
Standing, he places his hands on either side of your thighs on the counter, letting out a heavy exhale as he looks at you, as he stares from eye to eye, before whispering your name. The one which sounds so kind in his mouth, that sounds like it mattersâthat it holds importance and weight, even if you prefer Rainy.
âI donât think youâre fragile,â he whispers as you slide your hand over his, watching his eyes soften, heal. âIâm sorry if I made you feel like I did.â
Half-smiling, you nod. Eyes searching his, waiting to see if the lie appears when he blinks, whether it spreads out like paint touching water and if it makes his truthful eyes murky. But it never comes. Instead, his hand cups your cheek, in a way that centres you and makes you only want to look at him.
Exhaling, he smiles. âI just don't want to make you choose something you don't want. That's all, baby.â
Eyeing him chewing words, weighing up whether itâs worth it to speak them or let them slide back into the crevice they slithered from. Because itâs painful, maybe far too much truth for him, can see it in the way it makes lines appear across his face, as though itâs fracturing him to remember.
âI wasnât really mad at you.â
Slowly, a grin breaks out. âYes, you was.â
âOkay, a little bit, but it wasnât your fault. So, Iâm sorry. But I am mad at your toolbox, it really hurt.â
âIâll be sure to tell it.â
Narrowing your eyes, you slowly part your legs, tugging on him to move between them, wrapping them around his waist as he shyly smiles. âBeen thinking.â
âAbout how you now want curtains again?â
Pinching him, hearing him hiss, you smirk. âToo soon, Morales. No. Iâve been thinking that the cupboard closest to the office door.â He hums in response, it vibrating against your collarbone as he kisses it. âThink thatâs where your toolbox should live.â
You feel him grin against your skin, blow warm air in an exhale against it. âYou making room for my tools now.â
Lifting his chin, nose bumping against the tip of his, you mirror his smile. âI want to make room for all of you, Frankie.â
âYeah?â
Pressing a peck to his lips, you wipe your thumb over it. âYeah.â
Babe, what is the attire for a kid's soccer match?
Comfort. Itâs a lot of standing at the sidelines and hopeful cheering.
So knee-high socks and tight shorts are a no?
Fuck. Thatâs a fucking image.
Help me, because what Iâve Googled isnât helping me.
I have a spare shirt you can wear.
Does it have Morales on the back?
It actually does.
Frankie, did you make adult versions of your sonâs soccer team kit?
Does it make me lame if I say yes?
No, it makes me want to ask you if you can grab me fifteen minutes earlier so my mouth can show you how not-lame that is.
You'll be pleased to know I've sent the email and I am no longer working with 'prickly-puta', as you so lovingly called him.
I'm really proud of you. You okay?
I'd be better if I could celebrate with you, but I can wait.
How would you want to celebrate?
You sure you want to know?
Always, baby.
Well, I was thinking about showing you my power tools.
Maybe even using them? Letting you see what I do with them. It's very different from what you do with yours.
You there, I can see the typing bubble keep popping up.
Give me ten and I can video chat.
Oh no, you don't get an advanced preview. Might let you listen though.
Fuck me.
That's what I'd be saying if you were here right now.
You don't mind that painting ruined the beach because the rain is unrelenting.
The grey of the day filters through the bare windows, spreading itself as far as it can as Frankie prepares the second room of the three the two of you were set to do.
You donât mind the sound of rain; you never have. You find it peaceful how it cascades down from the drains and runs in marathons down the glass. Right now, the sound trickles in through the open window, while the room is suffused with the scent of fresh paint from the kitchen, mingling with the aroma of the third pot of coffee Frankieâs been brewing.
Even if he doesn't admit it, you swear he's only making as many so he can take a moment to kiss you. To run his hands over your waist and slide them over your romper-covered assâ
âHave I told you how good your ass looks in this?â
Sipping your coffee, tasting each note of it, you reply, âTwice, actually.â
âNot enough then.â
Between acting like teenagers in a strangerâs home (including him leaving a large handprint firmly on your denim-covered ass), the paint goes on in thick strokes. You cut in, trying to match the rhythm of the song playing out on the radioâa game only you are playing to distract yourselfâbecause the sight of Frankie using the roller is ruining you.
Unable to stop staring at the way his arms flex with each motion; how his shirt stretches out across his back to the point you're not sure how the threads haven't ripped.
âWant to see the colour for this room?â
Itâs a serene shade of yellow, reminiscent of a summerâs day. It'll brighten the room, glide nicely over the old, smothering secrets and old stories, offering something new. Fitting, you think from the drive over when Frankie told you the situation.
âIt's perfect.â
âIsn't it?â
Arm around his waist, fingers stroking up and down his side. âDid you pick it, Morales?â
Shyness breaks out then, smile lopsided, eyes averting before whispering, âMaybe.â
You made a note to tell him later what an eye for colour he has.
Dipping the tip of the brush in the paint tray, you swipe it against the corner where two walls meet, finding his eyes on you again.
âStop marvelling at my paintwork and focus on your own, Morales.â
âSânot your paint skills Iâm staring at.â
Smirking, you look over your shoulder at him, nose scrunching. âWho knew watching me paint was your kink.â
You like the sound of his laugh mingling with the yellow on the walls. It makes you smile wider, a thing you find yourself doing each time you refill your paint tray as torture him with your terrible singing.
The only other noise is the rain, the clink of a paint can and the rustle of plastic drop cloths as the transformation happens before your very eyes. Itâs not even dried, and it already looks far better than the cigarette-stained walls and palm-covered handprints you hadnât wanted to guess why they were there, yet had done all the same.
âMaybe heâs measuring how tall he is with his hands.â
Frankie snorts. âWhat if he wipes his dirty hands on the wall? Finishes his food, wipes. Gets something on his finger, wipes. Has a sticky handâwell.â
Youâre about to tell him not to finish that thought, when the radio plays the beginning notes of something that steals your attention.
It hooks in the corner of your lips and drags it up your cheeks as the familiar melody of an old favourite drifts from the speakers, wrapping the space in a cosy embraceâboth taking you back and rooting you here in a new memory.
You try not to, but you canât help the movement in your hips. The way you begin whisperingâhushed voice mingling with the music, filling the room with a gentle, attempted harmony as your pitch gets higher, and higher.
Then, you're swaying to the rhythm, lost in it, catching a glimpse of Frankie out of the corner of your eye as he leans against the doorway, arms folded across his chest, a soft smile tugging at his lips.
There's something in his eyes, you can see it. A tender look, one that makes your heart skip a beat.
But you close your eyes, and let the music carry you away, your voice rising and falling with the lyrics as they spill from your lips effortlessly. Opening your eyes at the bridge, finding him still watching, in awe, gaze unwavering.
And there's a softness there in his expression that you've never seen before, a quiet intensity that takes your breath away. It's as if the world has faded into the background, leaving just the two of you in this sunshine-filled room, back-lit by a horrid stormy day.
Yet, it feels perfect.
More so as you begin to sing to him, unable to stop staring as he takes a step closer, eyes never leaving yours. His fingers slide under yours, taking the tray and brush from your hands, placing it aside as his smile widens, eyes crinkling at the corners, looking at you as if you're the most precious thing in the world.
âWhat?â
He reaches out, gently brushing his knuckles on your cheek, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. âI love you,â he murmurs, his voice soft and steady.
For a moment, the room seems to stand still.
A flicker of something sparks inside you. Those same words have been so close to your tongue for days now that you almost need to pinch yourself to see if you've really heard them.
But, you know you heard it. The declaration hanging in the air, weighty and profound, making the actual music fade into the background, you swear time itself pauses, allowing the enormity of his words to sink in.
Frankie slides his arm around your waist, still smiling, tugging you closerâa thing your body gives with all but ease. And he repeats it. Those three words.
This time, your heart skips a beat. Emotions swirl within you like a tempestuous sea. One that calms under the stroke of his thumb as your fingers wrapping around his wrist, drawing a soft shape there.
âI love you too, Morales.â
âYeah?â
Nodding, a grin breaking out like the sun on the walls. âIâve been in love with you for a while.â
Then you hear it, the velvety, smooth sound of him saying good, as he kisses you to the last notes and chorus of an old, but new favourite song.
NEXT CHAPTER ->
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