#to protect his family and so never wore them

[abdy-18]

Fanfics where Yor takes care of Loid will always be my favorite because Yor genuinely enjoys taking care of the people she loves; it's her way of expressing affection and she wants to take care of her (fake) husband, not because she feels the obligation to do so because of the traditional wife role but because that's how her heart is.

Loid, on the other hand, has never had anyone to truly take care of him since he lost his mother. His life has been a constant cycle of loneliness and distrust. Even if his handler or some senior agent ever showed him the slightest empathy or suggested he take things easy, he would probably have assumed they were only doing it because he was a valuable asset, a resource they had to protect for utility. Twilight would surely think that, the moment he stopped being useful, they would throw him away like just another object.

But then Yor cares for him when he's most vulnerable, unable to contribute anything, when he feels like he's nothing but "useless," Yor is there, attentive, genuinely caring for him without expecting anything in return. She not only takes care of Anya, but also keeps the household running smoothly, showing him that everything will be okay even if he can't take care of everything himself.And for the first time in a long time, Twilight lets his guard down. He allows himself to relax, let the exhaustion catch up with him, and finally rest because Yor, Anya, and Bond give him a peace he never thought possible.

I have all of these in my ao3 bookmarks but I need more please 😭 if anyone knows more please tell me 😭

Harbor by frumplebump

Succumbing to the flu is not a luxury Twilight can afford, but when his immune system betrays him, Yor is there for him.

swing the spinning step by firewoodfigs

It is a truth universally acknowledged that an overworked and underpaid spy must, at some point in time, be so besieged by a terrible flu—in order that his lovely wife might take care of him. 

Something More by Thurito for nightofnyx8

The first thing the spy felt in the morning was such a strong weight on top of him that for a moment he thought it was someone who finally found his identity. His heart jumped, but as soon as his eyes were open and the man felt himself waking up more, he noticed what it was. He was sick. Twilight was sick. For the first time in more than a decade.

But I'm Here and So Are You by EmmyGracey

The Forger family returned to their hotel room after the airship crash wanting nothing more than warm clothes and a little bit of rest. When it’s Yor’s turn to get cleaned up she notices the cut on Loid’s head is bleeding again. She needs to take care of that. Loid’s not used to being taken care of. He finds it rather nice.

Spies Don't Get Paid Enough by Justanotherfannerd

Twilight does a shady mission that goes awry and Loid and Yor deal with the fallout. Purposeful obliviousness and injuries ensue. It's probably for the best that Anya is at a sleep over while all of this happens. or Twilight gets hurt, Yor plays doctor, and the both of them hide behind obliviousness.

Consequences by Raindrops_On_The_Pavement

Loid Forger is not indestructible, despite being Westalis's best. (I suck at summaries but I promise the story is good) Just a Loid Forger sickfic because why not? (The intro is a bit slow, but it gets sickfic/angsty dw)

A way out by MDSpencer

Twilight faces the consequences of his actions, and he seems to drag his family down with him

The Man From Mars by neejmorp

Something was wrong with Yor’s husband. He wore a constant smile on his face. It fooled colleagues, neighbors, and friends alike. The three people in his life who knew him best — his wife, his daughter, and his handler — all knew better. There was something off about his eyes. Loid survives a near-death experience following a mission abroad, but the incident impacts him and has an affect on his relationship with his family—particularly Yor.

You need to knock out this blondie more often :3

[guardian-of-da-gay]

Communication

Read on Ao3

For @year-of-the-echidna Prompt 2: Communication

tw for Sonic movie 3 spoilers, hidden injury, lack of communication, minor family drama, hints of trauma

Knuckles’ brief and humiliating battle with Shadow the Superior Hedgehog mostly hurt his pride.  At least that’s what he believed until the adrenaline wore off.

The injury to his wrist had been such a shock of pain he hadn’t been able to reign in his reaction.  But the pain was gone a moment later.  There were other things to focus on.  It wasn’t until he and Tails were tracking down both hedgehogs that it began to ache.  By the time they took shelter at Tails’ Garden of Chaos, the injury revealed itself in its entirety (and definitely not while he was impersonating a Pokemon).

But Knuckles didn’t have time to be injured, so he did as he had always had and ignored it.  It probably wasn’t that serious anyway.

But then he woke up restrained beside Sonic and Tails and tried to flex his way out of their chains.  The tension made his wrist throbbed in warning: f Knuckles did not respect this injury, it would get worse.  He might have ignored this and forced through the pain after Shadow released his black portal of death… but as nice as free hands would be, the chains ensured his brothers would not be swept away.  So long as the strength of his teeth could carry them through.

And carry them through they did!

Unfortunately they were carried to a new problem–for Knuckles at least.

Waiting for Tom to free them from the chains with his cutting bolts might have been a good time to inform the Pretzel Woman of his injuries.  She had gone to lengths to impress on him her desire for honesty with these situations.  Plus she seemed to always find out about them afterward anyway, no matter how old they may be.

And yet… Knuckles said nothing.  If he reported his injury, the healer might force him to stay out of the fight.  Team Knuckles needed him!  Who else would break glass in case of emergency?

Then everything fell apart.

Knuckles couldn’t whine about his achy wrist when Tom lay gravely injured.  When Maddie left them behind, her eyes so distant and sad.  When Sonic betrayed his vow to protect the Master Emerald from misuse–and then after.  When the fox looked so small and hurt.  When Knuckles looked into the uncertainty of his youngest brother’s eyes.

He was an echidna warrior.  The Most Dangerous Warrior in the Galaxy!  And the only family still at Tails’ side.  He had to be strong and sure.

Many things happened after that.  Occasionally his wrist would flare with stabbing pain, but Knuckles was well practiced in ignoring such things.  There was too much at stake to waste time feeling hurt.

And then… then they were in a hospital room.

The Pretzel Woman hugged them each.  First Sonic, then Tails, then Knuckles.  She asked the three of them if they were okay.  Knuckles looked to his brothers first, but found them both watching Tom mournfully.  The doctors said he was doing well.  He should be fine, but he would have to stay a few days.

In his heart Knuckles squirmed between his desire to honor the Pretzel Woman and report his injury and his shame: how could he complain of something so minor when their Donut Lord had been cut low?  And when he looked at his brothers’ anxious faces, he had that feeling again.  That urge to be strong and steady because that was what they needed when everything felt fragile and unsure.

This was all to say that Knuckles wasn’t needlessly hiding his injury until the Donut Lord got out of the hospital.  He had many reasons to keep it to himself.  And he thought of more as time passed.  A week later, Tom was home and recovering.  All their attention needed to be on caring for him.  Two weeks after that, they were celebrating their family being whole again.  Knuckles didn’t want to ruin that.  Two more weeks after that and too much time had passed.  Maybe the Pretzel Woman would never find out?

Knuckles’ wrist barely hurt at all anymore!  Unless he rotated it.  As long as he moved his arm and hands in very specific ways, he would be okay.  Unfortunately, while trying to show off his skills with a particularly heavy hammer, he rotated his wrist and it let out a horrible pulse of pain.  It throbbed the rest of the day, but he ignored it until he woke the next morning with his glove feeling painfully tight.  His mind went to the ‘abscess’ incident from so long ago.

With no small amount of dread, he realized it was time to tell the Pretzel Woman.

*

“Knuckles?”  Maddie asked.  “Why did you shove me into the coat closet?”

Knuckles looked up into the shadows where her face would be.  The closet was a strategic decision to lessen prying eyes and ears.  The fewer people that knew of his injury the better.  But he would admit he was also glad for the darkness.  He had to take this like a warrior and confess, but the gloom fortified his courage.

“I must report an injury,” he said quietly.

He heard the Pretzel Woman inhale.  The air shifted as she moved and suddenly a light flared.  Knuckles glared overhead.  He’d never noticed the thin chain hanging from the ceiling, it was far over his head but within easy reach for the giant human.

The closet was still strategic… but now he could see Maddie’s frown.

“Where?”  She asked, kneeling down.  “Show me.”

Knuckles fumbled with the cuff of his glove.  The last time he’d had a hand injury they had to cut his glove off.  This new one was made differently.  The cuff unstrapped easily and Knuckles was able to remove his injured wrist with minimal jostling.

Freed from confinement, the injury was clear.  Years of wearing the arena’s shackles had worn the fur from his wrists so it was easy to see how his brown skin was stained red.  The skin was tight, flesh swollen over the aching joint.  The color and swelling weren’t as bad as the time with the abscess.  The pain was… comparable.  Knuckles hoped this would not be the same issue.  That had been… unpleasant.

The healer took his fist in her tiny hands and began feeling along the joint.  Knuckles held still and did not show any weakness, even when her nimble fingers pressed down on a place that sent a jolt down his fingers.  She asked him to relax and moved his hand forward and back and side to side.  She rotated his hand in just the way that hurt most.

Knuckles wasn’t sure how to react to this.  Logic told him he should conceal that it hurt.  But the Pretzel Woman had made it abundantly clear she did not like when he did that.  Curse his wrist for not being stronger!

“Did that hurt?”  The Pretzel Woman asked.

Knuckles realized he had been glaring at his wrist and met Maddie’s eyes sheepishly.  “It’s not so–”

She raised one of her thin brows and Knuckles’ mouth clicked shut.

“That is the worse spot,” he said.  Even in the safety of the closet, it was as close to admitting to pain as he was willing to get.

“Well…” The Pretzel Woman looked thoughtful.  “I’d like to do an x-ray.”

Knuckles grimaced.  He hated the ex ray machine.  He had to lay down in strange positions and the energy the machine created made his nose feel like it was full of spiders.  Then the machine made portraits of all his secret injuries, new and old, and then Maddie got upset!  But Maddie was already going to be upset.  Knuckles didn’t know how, but she seemed able to tell the age of his wounds when she took her x-rays.

His shoulders sagged in defeat.  “Alright,” he said.  “I will do the x-ray machine.”  Perhaps if he cooperated now, she would be less angry with him when she inevitably found out he had concealed his wound.

Maddie frowned down at his wrist.  “When did this happen?”

Or she would find out now.

Sure, Knuckles could lie.  Sonic probably would–trickster that he was.  But not Knuckles.  He bowed his head and prepared to face her wrath with honor.

“My first battle against Shadow…?”  Against his will, his voice lilted up at the end.  Pathetic.  Own your shame, he scolded himself.

There was a pause and then the Pretzel Woman leaned back.  “Knuckles,” She dropped his name like a stone.  “Is this injury weeks old?”

Knuckles stared down at the discarded glove in his hand.  “I… apologize.”

“No!”  The Pretzel Woman stabbed one of her needle-thin fingers at him.  “No, I thought we were past this Knuckles!  I thought you were getting better!”

Knuckles swallowed, his throat felt strangely thick.  He’d expected anger, not this… disappointment.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, closing his eyes as though he might shut out his shame.  “Many things were happening and then Tom was injured and then recovering…”  He trailed off.  He dared to open his eyes and glance up at Maddie from under his lashes.  She watched him with an unreadable expression.

“That… was a really hard time,” she said.

Knuckles didn’t know what to say to that.  They’d all thought they were going to lose one of their tribe.  Saying it was a ‘hard time’ felt too small, but he had no better words to describe it.  “I did not want to make it harder.  Not when my injury was so much lesser and Sonic and Tails needed me to be strong.”

Her face softened, though her eyes were pained.  “Sonic and Tails are strong enough that you can take care of yourself–”

“They were frightened.”  He’d been frightened.  Knuckles looked away, staring at the thin closet door, all that shielded them from unseen enemies.  An echidna warrior was afraid of nothing, but when the ambulance doors closed on Tom’s pale face...  Knuckles hadn’t known the last time he saw his father would be the last time he ever saw him.  He hadn’t known if that last look into the ambulance was the last time he would ever see Tom.

“They were frightened and I did not want to place concern for me on top of that…”

Maddie sighed and shifted from kneeling to sitting.  She was shorter than him like this.  He wasn’t used to looking down at her.

“I’m sorry,” she said.  “I’m sorry you had to step up like that.  And… I’m proud too.”  She offered a soft, tired smile.  “You’re becoming quite the good brother.”

Knuckles studied his glove intently.  He wasn’t sure why–usually he loved to boast.  The Pretzel Woman had strange powers indeed.

“You can always tell me when you’re hurt.”  She took his good hand in hers.  “I want you to promise me–”

“I cannot.”  Knuckles withdrew his hand.  “I’m sorry.”

“Wha–why?”  The softness that had come to her voice lessened as anger took root.

Knuckles was ready to take it full-force.  “I cannot promise to always be forthcoming with injuries.  This has proved it.”

“Proved what?”  She crossed her arms.  A dangerous sign.

“If you had known I was injured, would you have let me come on our mission at the G.U.N. headquarters?”

“No.”

“Then I cannot promise.”  Knuckles crossed his arms over his chest to show his decision was final.  The move was definitely not undercut by his pained wrist not moving into place correctly.

“Knuckles.”  Her tone was dangerous.  He avoided her eyes, but even without looking he could feel her glare like shards of ice.

“You needed me,” he said.  “What would have happened in case of emergency if I had not been there to break the glass?”

“We probably would have come up with a whole different plan!”

That was probably true.  “But what if that plan failed?  I am the strongest of all of us even when my wrist is damaged–what would happen to you without me?”

“Knuckles, that’s not the point.  The point is to take care of yourse–”

“The point is that I will never remain behind while my tribe goes into battle without me.  Not again!”  With his arms crossed, he could not study his mitts, so Knuckles just stared straight ahead.  He could not look Maddie in the eye right now.  Of course, he didn’t need to when she wrapped her arms around him.  Hugs were something he was still getting used to.  They were surprisingly powerful things.  He stood perfectly still and focused on breathing and blinking.

“I’m sorry,” she said.  “I just… I want to protect you, you know?”

“That is what I want to do.”  Knuckles breathed in her scent.  She smelled of baking and breakfast, of her husband, their family, and various oils and lotions she used to keep her skin and hair clean and healthy.  He didn't remember his own mother but he thought this was probably what a mother should smell like.

When she pulled away it seemed both too soon and too late.  Knuckles wanted to follow after her just as much as he wanted to back away.  Hugs were very strange things indeed.

“We’re at an impasse,” she said.  “What are two family protectors to do?”

Knuckles considered this.  “Hopefully, not ground me?”

“I’ll never punish you for being hurt,” she said quickly.

Knuckles leveled her with an unimpressed look.  “But you so often get angry.”

Maddie’s returning expression was equally unmoved.  “That’s because I love you and… if I can’t stop you from getting hurt, then I at least don’t want you walking around in pain.  Not when I can help.”

“We are at an impasse,” Knuckles rubbed his injured wrist to hide his expression.  Like hugs, he was still getting used to ‘I love yous’.

Maddie took the hand from him and touched it gently, with the hands of a healer.   “Can you just… just keep trying to get better at telling me?”  She asked.  “Even if you can’t promise.”

Knuckles nodded.  “I cannot promise, but… I will try anyway.”

Because Knuckles loved her too.

[alphacinder]

ah, doctor, does this look okay?

[al-luviec]

still haven't moved on from zane in this episode (aka I hit tag limit again and am unhappy about it)

[beloveds-embrace]

The “Shared wife” trope and you’re John Price’s darling little housewife. The light of his life. His precious angel. The home he keeps in his house.

You are truly the best thing that has happened to him; all soft smiles and sweet words, a warm embrace he can melt to and shed all of the sharp edges he must bear whenever he’s deployed and carries the weight of the world across his shoulders.

The same world outside your little home was a cruel one, one where John had made more enemies than he cared to count. Each mission, each order barked into a comms unit, and each bullet fired carried a price- one that weighed on him more heavily than the tactical vest he wore.

But there was you, and he’d do it all again if it means having you safe and sound.

His darling. His beloved. The soft warmth of your hands, the sweetness of your smile. You were his sanctuary, his reprieve from the shadows of his work. And because of that, he could not- would not- allow anything to take you from him.

It wasn’t just him anymore, though. They were always there, watching. Protecting- for you belonged to John, and so did they, but you weren’t sharpened like them and you didn’t have to be; they’d be sharp enough for you, too. Guard dogs, their leashes held by John.

Especially when John tugged on those leashes and had them stay with you while he was away on a different mission. As if he’d ever leave you alone, all by your lonesome.

Kyle was the easiest to adjust, his role almost seamless. He lingered in the background, watchful but not intrusive and never forceful in joining your space, his easy charm disarming to anyone who might venture too close. He’d follow John’s orders without hesitation, his voice steady over the phone and comms after Price sent him to patrol the property’s edges.

“It’s quiet out here,” he’d murmur, voice a low hum in the radio. “No sign of trouble. As it should be.”

Soap, of course, tugged harder on the leash. He had energy to spare, bounding about the property like an overzealous hound. But it wasn’t just his sharp instincts that made him invaluable; it was his ability to diffuse tension with a grin and a joke, to make you feel like the safest person in the world, and coax you back inside while distracting you from whatever lingered outside.

It shouldn’t be for you to worry. All you needed to do was stay your lovely, content self, curled up all warm and cozy in your favorite spots like a particularly cherished kitten.

“Dinnae worry, lass,” he’d say as he hefted a bag of groceries from your car, muscles flexing under his shirt. “Nothin’ gets past us. We’re like the bloody Buckingham Palace guards- but more handsome. What are you making for lunch? How about I show you a family recipe, eh?”

And then there was Simon.

Ghost was quiet, his presence as much a shadow as his name suggested. But you always knew when he was near, the subtle shift in the air around you as his dark eyes followed your every move. He was the one who lingered just a little longer after everyone else had gone to bed, his massive frame nearly invisible against the darkened walls and only showing himself just so you wouldn’t get frightened.

“You don’t have to do that.” You’d tell him softly, catching sight of him through the kitchen window as he circled the house, even though you were so sure John was overreacting and these men needed to calm down. “Si, please. It’s cold tonight, too.”

But he would only shake his head, low and unyielding. “It’s my job to keep you safe. Don’t worry about me. Let’s get you back inside, Price’ll have my head if you catch a cold.”

And John truly kept them in line, orders sharp and precise. It was a dynamic they understood instinctively, honed from years of serving under him. He was their captain, their leader, their handler, and when it came to you, his commands were absolute.

But you were the one who softened them.

It started small: a hand on Kyle’s shoulder when he seemed tense, massaging the knots out, a gentle laugh at one of Soap’s outrageous jokes with his hand on your lower back, a quiet “thank you” murmured to Ghost as he handed you something you hadn’t even asked for yet ended up needing. They responded to you as if they were attuned to you, sharp edges dulling in your presence until they were handing you the leashes themselves.

Soap once joked about it- how they were like a pack of loyal dogs, their ears pricking up whenever you entered the room.

“You’ve got us all wrapped around your little finger, love,” he’d teased, earning a gruff “Shut it, MacTavish” from Price. Because they stayed, even when John returned. Because they belonged.

But it was true.

They followed John’s orders without question, but when you asked something of them, it wasn’t obedience- it was devotion. Ask them for the world, and they will drag it to your doorstep bleeding and heaving. Ask them for the sun, and they will tear it out of the sky to present it to you on burnt palms.

“Simon, will you check the garden gate for me? I think the latch is loose again.” You’d say, and he’d rise without hesitation, broad shoulders brushing the doorway as he left. And then he’d return, and patiently wait until you’d kiss his cheek.

“Kyle, do you mind grabbing the mail? It’s pouring out there.”

“Anything for you, darling.” Gaz would reply, already pulling on his jacket, and when he’d return he’d make sure you wouldn’t get wet while he leaned down and stole a kiss on your forehead.

“Johnny, help me with this jar, will you?”

“Aye, lass, but only if you kiss me.” Soap would tease, though he’d already have the jar in hand, his grin softening when you rolled your eyes. Still, he’d obediently lower his head for you to peck.

And John watched it all with quiet pride. They were his men, and he trusted them with his life. Now, he trusted them with yours. Because they were his, and you were his, and all of you should have been together from the start anyways.

You were worth protecting. Worth loving. Worth the world itself, because you were one and the same to them.

The first time you teased him about it- about how he seemed to have the entire Task Force at his beck and call- he simply pulled you into his arms and kissed you until you were clinging to his shoulders, breathless and warm.

“They’d do anything for you,” he murmured against your hair, then. “Same as me. You’re ours to protect.”

It was possessive, yes, but not in a way that stifled you, not like shackles that bound you to a prison. It wasn’t a cage; it was a fortress, each of them a stone in the walls that kept you safe.

And you, their sweet, lovely little wife, were the center of it all. Safe, cherished, and loved beyond measure.

[shrimpybbq]

season 1 rafe with his gf & son

i have to be sooo truthful here in that rafe is like 90% the actual worst during the events of season 1 to high school gf!

he's still doing drugs and going to parties, never coming home until the early morning if at all

maybe he was on better terms with his gf for a while, but everyone on the island knows that the pair are always on-and-off

when they are good, rafe is surprisingly sweet to her. he's always opening doors and looking after their son so she can rest. rafe is so much more physically affectionate too during these times, with his hands always on her, stroking her hip or playing with her hair

and then when they fight, it's like all that goes away and he's back to ignoring her

she lives in the main house now as that's where their son's nursery is, but most of the time she's sleeping in the guest room after they argue

rafe's idea of family bonding is going to the country club, drinking his expensive whiskey and eating overpriced food. he likes seeing his son look around wide-eyed at the new sights and new people, and he enjoys having his son sit in his lap while he drinks, mumbling nonsense to see his little smile

he tries to take his son out golfing once only to realise that he couldn't be away from his mother for so long, much to his annoyance. it's fine though bc he's insisting they all go together next time - problem solved in his mind

rafe and high school gf! go to midsummer's together as each others dates. rafe wouldn't have let her go with anyone else anyway, but he likes the display of having her on his arm. he matches his suit to the floral design of her gown to make the statement even clearer (they have a child together and he's worried about people knowing she's his???)

he manages to hide a lot of the events that go on from his gf, but some of them still reach her ears courtesy of sarah, and he can't stand the disappointed look she gives him. sometimes though, he makes her sit down and listen to his explanation, trying to get her to see his side. he's so relieved when she nods and no longer looks at him in that way (but she still doesn't tell him he was right, he always notes)

when barry burns rafe, he's knocking on the door of the guest room with tears in his eyes, clutching his badly burnt arm to his chest. gf just looks at him wide-eyed, telling him to sit on her bed while she grabs the first aid kit. rafe can't help but let the tears stream down his face as she cleans, his head coming to rest on her shoulder as he sobs. that night is the first time he sleeps with her in the guest room, his head nuzzled into her chest as she cradles him

ok but if barry ever threatens his girl and kid rafe won't let it go. he's landing a punch on the drug dealer's face immediately, his rage spiking instantaneously. barry learns not to threaten them again after the second time he wore purple bruises on his chin

oh, sweet pretty gf has no idea what rafe has done to the sheriff, and he plans to keep it that way. he wanted to protect his dad, but he absolutely refuses to let anything happen to his own family. she's so shocked when he tells her of john b's actions, the boy having lived down the hall from them, and rafe plays into the role of protector again. he's got her in his arms as she cries about how he was around their son, and rafe just hums and tells her "i would never let someone hurt either of you, you know that right?". it warms his heart to see her nod into his chest.

sometimes his gf walks into the nursery only to see her son not in his crib, but she knows exactly where he is. pushing open rafe's door she sees the two of them in bed, her sweet baby cuddled up on rafe's bare chest as they both sleep. he needs to be with his son when he has a bad day, which seems to be more often than not nowadays

rafe is rapidly growing more mentally unwell and the only thing that seems to soothe him is his gf and son, and he spends as much time as he can with them. the little baby is always in his arms as he coos down at him, watching his kid's eyes brighten at the sight of his dada. rafe reasons with himself that everything he does is to protect his family and that he couldn't be wrong then, could he?

Click here for pre-season 1 rafe, gf & their unborn son

Click here for season 2 rafe, gf & their son

Click here for season 3 rafe, gf & their son

Click here for season 4 part 1 rafe, gf & their son

Click here for the 18 month gap before season 4 rafe, gf & their son

Oh this was a bit of a novel, but rafe truly has so many facets to explore, let alone once you give him a big motivator like a kid!

[kirbmey]

　 ྀི︶˚̣̣̣⠀⠀⠀vacations w bigbrother!caleb⠀⠀⠀˚̣̣̣︶ ྀི

synopsis: you’re having a summer dinner with your family and friends, but caleb gets angry at an old gossipy lady ( ｡ •` ⤙´• ｡)

tw: reader is implied to be smaller than caleb, reader is very feminine, dumbification, slurs like ‘whore’, possessive!caleb, stepcest, manipulation, dark romance, usage of ‘gege’ and ‘big brother’, slightly inspired by the movie ‘call me by your name’, caleb is kinda aggressive not towards reader tho, etc.

there was this tradition running in your family where you would move to your summer villa for the whole summer season, inviting some of your parents' friends over as well; needless to say, your step brother was also included in the plan.

you were always excited about these, being able to wear your a little too short summer dresses in front of your big brother without question to every dinner, adoring giving yourself a cute look for caleb to see, only wanting to be pretty for your big brother ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

this night was nothing different, you wore this pale pink sundress that left little to the imagination along with some other pink accessories, wearing the necklace he gifted you; you never took it off.

every night your housemaid would set up the long and old wooden table in the patio with refreshing food, all the people in the villa gathering to spend time together after their tiring activities in the beach. you sat in front of caleb as usual, feeling his warm palm rest in the fat of your thigh and caressing it with his thumb in circular motions.

he loved to stare at your angelic-like features while talking about whatever thing you were talking about with your aunt, sometimes forgetting that the rest of your family was there and that he had to keep appearances to any curious eyes.

⠀⠀　　“so, caleb?” he turns his head way too fast at his name being called, getting out of the trance he got caught on by staring at your red plump lips. “how are you doing with your studies?” a friend from your parents asks, he didn’t even know her name.

⠀⠀　　“mmh, well, all good. gotta study more than expected but she helps me with that, I have a hard time focusing, you know…” he answers with a boyish smile and tender voice, pinching your skin when pronouncing your name.

⠀⠀　　“yeah! gege is working really hard for this career, and i try to help him as much as i can” you voice an answer in a sweet tone, him knowing the reality of this said help.

⠀⠀　　“i see, you two seem really close, if i didn’t know you i’d think you ar—”, “well, that cuts it for tonight i’m afraid” your mother intervenes, knowing how annoying her friend gets regarding this topic. they even argued several times about how your relationship should be checked on since it looked very inappropriate from the outside, but she refused to listen, being a blind believer on your innocent sister-brother interactions, thinking caleb it’s just very clingy and protective about you.

a fierce blush creeps onto your cherub cheeks, feeling embarrassed at anyone questioning your relationship with your gege.

wasn’t it normal, having your big brother hold you for way too long, getting kissed on the lips before going to sleep or even helping you with the strange ache between your thighs when he rubbed himself against you to keep you warm at night?

he made sure to keep you away from anything or anyone vulgar, wanting to cherish your pure mind and thoughts for himself to slowly corrupt, carefully making you believe that good girls don’t go out with boys, don’t kiss anyone but their big brothers and reaching him to ask for help regarding any small issue a normal person could take care of themselves, but not you. you were too stupid ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა

and just like that, he made you his little doll for him and him alone, emptying your silly head from anyone but him. you depended on him for anything.

your nipples got hard in the winter? don’t worry, he will slowly rub them while you sat on his lap with his cock buried deep inside you, just to keep you warm. whispering sweet nothings to you while leaving wet kisses along your neck, smiling to himself when listening to your adorable whimpers. he had to use every single trace of self control to not break your puffy pussy in two right there.

he actually never properly fucked you, just played with you like adults do (..◜ᴗ◝..) nothing wrong with that, right?

you wanted to help him focus on his homework? you knew how easily distracted your gege could get and you just wanted to help! (•ᴖ•｡) so he told you to get on your knees, making sure it was on top of some soft cushion, and commanded you to start pampering small kisses on his bulge. just like the ones you gave him all over the face when you were happy to see him ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

so you kept your hands on your lap like the good girl you were to approach his big bulge hiding under his grey sweatpants, leaving sweet little smoochies all over his prince's parts (as he called yours your princess’s parts), and leaving light traces of saliva on the way.

just a few minutes like that, completely focused on the task your gege gave you to please him as you always wanted, and he came undone fully clothed. you looked up at him trough your long lashes, surprised to see that creamy liquid stain his pants, the same one he made you lick from his fingers sometimes before (⁠ᗒ⩊ᗕ ྀི)

he can’t help but laugh fondly at your expression, caressing your cheek before slipping his thumb into your mouth, feeling how you wrapped your warm tongue against the pad of his finger.

now you were both heading to your shared bedroom, the inside of the villa specially silent since everybody else stayed outside, smoking and updating on the latest gossips while drinking the leftover wine.

caleb was mad, how dare that bitch even think about questioning you two? he knew what was best for you, he was your shiny armor knight, your big brother who would always protect you. what was wrong with that?

your tiny heels clicked trough the long and empty halls, chasing after caleb as your short legs could; he was stomping, and he was truly angry.

you never saw him so mad ever since he caught you watching some filthy porn a friend of yours sent you when you told her that you didn’t do that kind of thing since your brother told you to not to. needless to say, he made sure to beat her up real good so she wouldn’t get any close to you, ever. but you didn’t need to know what he did, he’s just protecting you! (づ_ど)

once you catch up with him inside the said bedroom you pout, playing with the lacy hem of your dress as you close the door behind you. he’s sits down on the edge of the bed, holding his head between his hands as he takes deep breaths. he had to take care of that whore later, noted.

⠀⠀　　“gege? what’s wrong? did i do something bad?” you inquisitively ask, taking careful steps to stand before him, still playing around with your clothes in a nervous manner.

no answer from him, just a deep breath and a big pair of hands holding the back of your thighs to bring you closer, burying his face in the plush of your belly while featherly kissing it.

⠀⠀　　“no, doll, you did nothing wrong.” he blurs out against the soft fabric of your dress. “it’s just mom’s friend, she made me angry.” you feel his hands creep closer to your ass, holding yourself onto his broad shoulders.

you knew caleb didn’t like the questioning of your relationship, he liked to keep things private, a secret only for you two. your silly head couldn’t find an answer, what were you supposed to say when his skilled fingers removed your cottony panties down and he kept his pinkish gaze on you like that?

⠀⠀　　“you’re mine, pips, you know everything i do is for your own good.” you knew it, that old lady’s words meant nothing to you. “what would you do without me, hmm?”

you heard the side zipper of the dress and before you know it, you’re fully naked in front of him. it’s not the first time, but you can’t help feeling a little ashamed. he’s so perfect, tall and fit, and you don’t match his toned body.

you cross your arms in front of your breasts, hiding your blushing face underneath your hair, feeling his hand once again come up to your chin to lift it up while the other one holds your wrists a little bit too hard.

⠀⠀　　“don’t dare hiding from me, princess, you know I love the sight.” he confesses in a breath, restarting the trail of kisses from your soft belly down to your pubes, rubbing the tip of his nose against the little hairs.

you can’t help but whine, readjusting your hands on top of his head, caressing his soft dark locks trough your slim fingers. “gege, don’t do that, you know it feels achy.” you complain in a peachy voice.

he falls on blind ears, paying all of his attention to your princess’s parts, making you separate your legs by holding your inner thighs before lowering his head to clit level, smothering the growing bud with open-mouthed kisses.

he slowly toyed with your dripping entrance, circling the ring muscle with his index finger while paying attention to your pearl, lost in the sweet and sour flavor of yours. “fuck, doll, what do I have to do to make everyone understand that you’re my good girl, hmm?”

you don’t even listen to him, too caught up in the sensation of said finger caressing your velvety walls, throwing your head back while you pushed your hips closer to his face, letting out an adorable moan when feeling a second one peeking in.

⠀⠀　　“i see, you’re too stupid to answer that.” he said in a condescending way, fucking you with his long fingers slow but deep, even biting your clit at times. “don’t you see you need me to do everything for you?” one harsh thrust, reaching that gummy spot. “to tie your shoes, to wash your hair, even to dress you up in the morning?”

you were a moaning mess, your hair falling like a cascade at your back and sticking to your sweaty forehead, your toes curling at the way his skilled fingers toyed with your weak spot, feeling how he curved them inside you, that strange sensation knotting in your belly. “gege, i feel weird again, stop, stop” the tears in the corner of your eyes fall away to your neck.

⠀⠀　　“let go f’me, angel, you know your big brother likes it.” and he loved it, the taste of your juices, sweet enough to be addictive. before you realize you were creaming his fingers, feeling a strong arm wrap around your waist to keep you from falling. “good girl, you did so good for me”.

his murmurs fall quiet when he laps at your pussy to take every single drop of you in his mouth, moaning at the taste. your head falls on top of his, trying to catch your breath while he wraps you with both arms and lifts you up, heading to the bathroom to clean you up.

he first washed your sweaty body and clothed you with one of his huge t shirts, you falling asleep mid-bath and him taking you to bed carefully, making sure you were comfortable before taking care of his hard dick and rubbing himself against your discarded panties, staining them with cum not many minutes later (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

he threw them inside one of his designated drawers and hugged your smaller frame into his naked chest, drifting to sleep.

your big brother loved you so so much!

a/n: let me know if you liked it, i want feedback! also, idk if this was too long, i got carried away hehe (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

— masterlist.

[betweenstorms]

Part One of Where We Part (next chapter) (masterlist) Childhood Friend!Simon x fem!Reader

Before he was Ghost, he was Simon Riley.

A quiet boy with eyes too old for his young face, always watching, always listening, always alone.

You had known him for as long as you could remember.

He was the lanky boy next door, the one with too much burden in his eyes, the one who never talked about the bruises or the shouting that came from his house at night. Even as kids, there was something about him that set him apart, something that made you want to protect him, even though he never let you. But you’d always notice the new bruises on his arms, the way his hazel eyes would darken whenever Tommy, his younger brother dragged him into trouble and the way he seemed to flinch at loud noises, at sudden movements.

Tommy Riley was loud, rude, and as wild as a storm untethered.

He was a real troublemaker, you never trusted his cruel grin and his rude words, never felt safe near the sharp edges of his temper. He thrived on chaos, a force of destruction that couldn’t be tamed, while Simon stood in his shadow, as if he existed solely as an apology—for his brother’s recklessness, for his family’s dysfunctionality and even for his own existence.

You were the neighbour’s only child, the one who never quite understood why Simon kept so much distance between you.

Something about him tugged at you—a quiet pull that made you want to reach into the cold and offer him the warmth of your world. You felt a strange protectiveness over him, as if it was your duty as someone older than him, some unspoken responsibility you carried without question. Through your school years, you kept watch over him, whether he knew it or not. When the students mocked him you were there, standing up for him, silencing the cruel whispers, even when it cost you friendships. The rumours about the Rileys circled like vultures, but you shut them down, defending a boy who never asked for it, who seemed more annoyed by your efforts than grateful.

You weren’t friends, after all, not really.

He never showed any sign that he wanted your help. But still, you couldn’t stop yourself. Something deep inside told you it was the right thing to do, even if Simon would never see it.

However, your parents, like most of the neighbourhood, kept their distance from the Rileys. It wasn’t something openly discussed, only whispered behind cupped hands at the local market, murmured in the pews of the church, or exchanged in knowing glances at school gates. Yet those looks exchanged between the adults made it clear—people didn’t want to get involved. The Rileys were trouble, everyone said, and it was best to leave them to their own devices.

You were forbidden from playing with Simon or Tommy, even though they were the only children near your age on the street.

It was an unspoken rule, one you didn’t quite understand as a kid but followed anyway, wishing things could be different. You were young then, far too young and innocent to grasp the weight of the shadows that lingered in the Riley household.

You didn’t know why Mr. Riley’s shouts echoed through the night, why Mrs. Riley wore bruises like secret confessions beneath her smile, why Simon’s silence felt heavy, like a wound too deep to heal. Their world felt so different from yours, a place of suffering you couldn’t quite touch. But as the years slipped by, as childhood faded into adolescence, the picture began to sharpen. With it, your protectiveness over Simon deepened, as the reality of what his father was doing became impossible to ignore. Understanding bloomed where innocence once was, and with it, the weight of knowing.

You couldn’t fathom how your parents, with their kind hearts and warm smiles, could do nothing.

How they could turn their backs on Mrs. Riley, her frail form draped in sorrow, and her two children, who so clearly needed help. You didn’t understand why they never returned Mrs. Riley’s weak greetings, why they closed themselves off from her suffering. It baffled you how they could step over Tommy, sprawled on their porch, drunk or worse, as if he were just another mess to be swept away.

But what haunted you most was their indifference to Simon—the boy your age, thin as a whisper, burdened with bruises no child should carry. How could they look at him and not see? How could they not feel the silent plea in his eyes? Where was their empathy for a child, for a boy who wore his misery like a second skin?

Oh, Simon.

His hazel eyes stayed with you, always, like shadows that linger long after the sun sets. There was something far too ancient in them, like he’d seen too much for someone who hadn’t yet grown into his own skin. They held a weariness that made you wonder what horrors had carved their marks so deeply into him. The whispers followed him everywhere, rumours circling like vultures over carrion. You didn’t know where they came from, Tommy’s careless tongue, or maybe the other nosy students who relished the cruelty of gossip, but they stained everything, leaving you wondering what was real.

You heard that Mr. Riley brought all kinds of dangerous animals into their home, taunting Simon with them, forcing him to kiss a snake, like it was some twisted game, some kind of sick power move. And then there were the stories of his father dragging him to those grim concerts, where violence blurred into spectacle.

They said he’d made Simon laugh at the overdose of a prostitute, made him witness things no child should ever see. You didn’t know if it was all true, but it didn’t matter. The shadow of those stories lingered over him, heavy and unshakable, and you could see it in the way the boy carried himself, in the haunted quiet of his presence.

There was a summer day, thick with heat and sorrow, that still clung to you like a forgotten song.

You had just turned nineteen that July, on the cusp of leaving behind the life you knew, ready to escape to the vastness of London and its promise of university, independence, and everything adulthood might hold. It was one of those warm, languid August evenings, where the sky blushed pink and gold, and the air was alive with the buzz of cicadas and the scent of overripe grass. You were out with your dear friends from high school, celebrating the end of an era. There was laughter, careless and sweet, the kind that only comes after a few too many drinks. A can of cheap beer was cradled in your hand as you leaned back in the passenger seat of your friend’s car, music pulsing around you like a heartbeat as you drove aimlessly through the familiar streets of your suburban neighbourhood.

The night felt like a farewell, a last taste of youth before everything shifted into the unknown. You giggled at something absurd, head dizzy and spinning, when suddenly, through the haze of the moment, you saw him.

Simon Riley.

There was something achingly bittersweet in seeing him there, swallowed by the dusk, his figure hunched as always.

Something inside you shifted, a strange ache that mingled with the buzz of the celebration—a mixture of nostalgia and sorrow that you couldn’t quite place. The guilt of childhoods lived on parallel tracks, always near, but never close enough.

Maybe it was the booze loosening your thoughts, making everything softer and hazier, or maybe it was the looming departure that made everything feel both fleeting and too permanent at once.

“Slow down,” you blurted out, your voice almost drowned out by the music. Your friend gave you a puzzled look, but complied, easing the car to a crawl. 

Simon walked on, dull eyes cast down like he had grown used to the world pretending not to see him.

“Riley,” you called out, your voice weak and unsure. “Fancy a ride?”

Your friends hissed, their voices sharp with confusion and disbelief. “What are you doin’?” one of them asked, eyes wide in the rearview mirror. “Girl, you’re mental!” another laughed, but their words were just background noise to you.

Your gaze stayed locked on Simon Riley, unwavering, even as embarrassment burned at the back of your neck.

For a moment, it felt as though time stretched impossibly thin, the space between you and him suspended in something fragile and delicate. And then, slowly, Simon stopped.

His hazel eyes caught yours beneath the dim glow of the streetlights.

He furrowed his brows when he recognized you, the corners of his lips tightening in that way that told you he was already annoyed.

You flashed him a drunken smile, but it was crooked, empty, a weak imitation of your usual confidence. You leaned your chin on your palm, trying to ignore the sudden flood of emotions rising in your chest. You studied him, trying to find traces of the boy you once knew under the young man he’d become.

“So?” You asked, feeling exposed, a little too vulnerable under his gaze. Embarrassment and sadness twined together like vines around your ribs, squeezing tightly.

Simon’s response was cold, clipped, dismissive. “Don’t need a ride.”

His voice was deeper, rougher than you remembered, gruff with the weight of years that had passed since you last spoke. Had it really been that long? Long enough that you had forgotten what he even sounded like?

“Oh, you sure? We're headin’ that way anyway,” you hummed, trying to keep your tone light, though something in you was desperate, like this fleeting encounter needed to mean more than it did. But Simon just scoffed, a sound that cut through the night like a blade.

He turned away, resuming his walk down the pavement.

Your friends erupted into giggles, snickering at the awkwardness of the situation, their teasing only deepening the strange ache in your chest. But you tuned them out. With a sigh, you made up your mind. Fueled by guilt, nostalgia, and a bit of reckless drunkenness, you reached for the door handle.

“See y'all tomorrow,” you muttered, stepping out of the car before any of them could protest. One of your friends called, but you didn’t look back and didn't offer any explanation.

Without another thought, you hurried after Simon, your footsteps quickening as if you could somehow close the long years of distance in a single stride.

He didn’t stop for you.

He didn’t even turn to acknowledge you as you caught up, breathing rapidly, walking beside him. Meanwhile, the car pulled away, loud music fading into the distance, leaving you two in suffocating silence. His head was bent low, gaze fixed on the cracked pavement beneath his feet, but you kept your eyes on him—on his broad shoulders that seemed too tense compared to yours.

For what felt like an eternity, neither of you spoke.

The night pressed down on you, the air too warm for comfort. Your face was flushed, whether from the alcohol coursing through your veins or the embarrassment of trailing after Simon, you couldn’t be sure. Each step felt heavier than the last, the awkwardness between you building with every inch you walked together, the distance between you palpable even though you two were side by side.

It was hard to keep your balance, the world around you tilting ever so slightly with each step. You stumbled once, your foot catching the edge of the pavement, and cursed under your breath as you regained your footing. You could have sworn you heard Simon sigh, a quiet, annoyed sound, barely more than a breath, but it stung nonetheless.

“So,” you chuckled awkwardly, desperate to fill the growing silence. Your voice sounded too loud, too false against the quiet of the neighbourhood. “Workin��� late, huh? Mum told me you got a job at the butcher’s. The one near the market, right?”

Simon didn’t answer immediately.

His gaze remained fixed ahead. For a fleeting second, you thought that he might ignore you entirely. But then, in that low, gravelly tone, he muttered, “Yeah. S’what I do.”

His response was clipped, offering no room for conversation, but you pressed on, ignoring the tension tightening around you like a noose. “Must be rough, that. The long shifts, I mean. Can’t be easy workin’ with knives and saws all day.”

Simon glanced at you from the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable in the dim glow of the streetlights.

“It pays the bills,” he muttered, his voice flat. There was no hint of the boy you once knew, just a hardened young man who had learned long ago not to rely on anyone.

The conversation died again, leaving only the sound of your footsteps against the pavement. You swallowed hard, guilt rising again like a tide, mingling with the familiar ache of melancholy that always seemed to creep in when you thought of him.

Simon Riley had always been on the edge of your life, a shadow lingering just out of reach. You had never really known him, not truly. He was a figure cast in half-light, always present but never close enough to collide with. You had always watched him from afar, tried to stand up for him when the world became too cruel, but what had any of it meant? He never asked for your help, never even hinted that he needed it. So why bother now?

Simon hadn’t asked for your company—he never had.

And now, standing next to him, you felt that distance more acutely than ever. His silence was loud, louder than anything he could have said, and it left you feeling small, foolish.

The streetlights cast long shadows over the cracked pavement, the distant hum of the city the only sound filling the void. The warm summer night, which had felt so light and carefree only moments ago, now seemed oppressive, weighing down on your shoulders like an invisible burden. Before you could open your mouth to say something uncomfortable again, Simon’s voice cut through the air, sharp and laced with irritation.

“You don’t need to do this.”

You blinked, the alcohol making your thoughts slow to catch up. “Do what?”

Simon glanced at you, his hazel eyes dark and distant, a flicker of something hard lingering just beneath the surface.

“This,” he gestured vaguely between the two of you. “Pity. Guilt. Or whatever it is that’s makin’ you follow me right now.”

Pity? Guilt? That wasn’t what this was—was it? No, of course not. You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him he was wrong, that you weren’t here out of some misguided sense of obligation. But the look on his face stopped you. It was a look of exhaustion, of someone who had heard this all before, someone who had learned not to trust the intentions of others.

“I’m not—” you started, your voice shaky, but he cut you off again.

“I know you’re leavin’,” Simon murmured, his tone dry, as if stating an obvious fact. “Heard your folks talkin’ about it. You’re off to London, right? So, whatever this is, don’t bother.”

The embarrassment burned hot and heavy in your chest, spreading to your cheeks and ears.

“Look, I’m not tryin’ to—” you began again, your voice softer, almost pleading.

Simon shook his head, his expression hardening. “Don’t. I don’t need your bloody charity, alright? I mean it. I don’t need your… whatever the fuck this is.”

The words struck you like a fist to the chest, stealing the air from your lungs.

You halted in your tracks, and to your surprise, he did the same. The space between you felt heavier now, like it carried the weight of all the years that had passed, thick with everything unsaid. You bit down on your lower lip, your gaze lifting slowly, hesitantly, to meet his.

He towered over you now, though once you’d been the taller one. Despite the age gap, the few years between you, despite the fact that you were older than him, Simon seemed like someone who had long since outgrown you, both physically and mentally.

Funny, how time had stretched and twisted between you both, long enough to turn everything unfamiliar. It had been so long, too long, hadn’t it? Since you’d last spoken to him properly. Long enough that you couldn’t quite place when the shift had happened, when Simon had become a stranger to you, a distant figure in your memory rather than the boy next door.

“I don’t wanna leave like this,” you whispered, dropping your gaze to your feet, your voice barely louder than the rustle of leaves in the warm night air. Your hands itched with nervous energy, and you scratched your elbow awkwardly, trying to anchor yourself. “I know we weren’t exactly friends, but that doesn’t mean I never cared. About you, I mean. And I—” you paused, the words tangling on your tongue, too clumsy, too inadequate for the heaviness in your chest. “But you’re right. It doesn’t matter now.”

Simon sighed again.

He ran a hand over his face, rubbing at the corners of his eyes like he was too tired for this, too tired for you. The way he looked at you, it was like you were the one out of place, like he was the older one, the wiser one. There was something in his gaze that cut deeper than any words ever could, something that said he didn’t know what to do with you. Not now, not then, maybe not ever.

For a long moment, he said nothing, just stared, as if deciding whether it was even worth responding.

“The only advice I can give you,” he said, each word deliberate, like he was choosing them with care, “is to live your life. ‘Cause that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. And if we’re lucky, we’ll never have to think about each other ever again.”

The deadpan delivery should’ve stung, should’ve hurt more than it did, instead, you found yourself chuckling softly, soft and bitter at the same time. The absurdity of it, of this whole encounter, made you want to cry and laugh in equal measure. Somehow, he’d managed to diffuse the tension in the most Simon way possible.

But still, it felt like it had always been there, hadn’t it? Unsaid words, missed chances, a history that never was.

You looked up at him, your lips twitching into a small, fragile smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Is that your idea of a pep talk?” you said, trying to make light of the ache that had settled deep in your bones.

Simon tilted his head slightly, watching you with those unreadable hazel eyes. “Not really my strong suit, is it?” he muttered, his voice low and hoarse.

“No, not at all.”

He looked at you, his eyes still guarded, as though he was searching for something in your expression that he couldn’t quite find. Yet he didn’t flinch, didn’t soften. Didn’t return the smile either. Instead, he shrugged with a kind of finality that made your heart sink.

Simon nodded towards the road ahead.

“It’s late. I’ll walk you home.”

The offer was simple, but it carried an underlying meaning, like it was both a farewell and an acknowledgment that, despite everything, you had once meant something to him, even if only in passing.

There was something about his detachment, his unwillingness to engage with the past, that hurt more than you expected. Maybe you had wanted some closure, some understanding from him, a sign that what you felt wasn’t one-sided all these years. But Simon wasn’t offering that. He wasn’t offering anything at all.

You didn’t argue.

You didn’t even protest that you were fine on your own, that you didn’t need his protection. Instead, you forced a weak smile onto your face and started walking, hoping the darkness would hide the tears pricking at your eyes. The sound of your footsteps seemed louder now, echoing against the stillness of the night, as if you were both walking away from something you couldn’t quite name.

“Y’know, not too long ago, I used to walk you home after church on Sundays. When your mum went to the market. Remember?”

Simon didn’t say anything. You thought maybe he hadn’t heard you, but then he hummed, a low, almost noncommittal sound. He wasn’t the boy who needed walking home anymore, and you weren’t the one who could offer him safety.

The walk was silent. But what had you expected? That he’d thank you for some half-hearted attempt at connection after all these years? That he’d open up, that there would be a cathartic moment where you’d both acknowledge the traumatic childhood you shared with him and walk away with some semblance of peace?

Still, it was strange, walking side by side with someone who felt like a stranger, yet also someone you had known your entire life.

The short walk to your parents' house felt longer than it should have. As you approached the familiar gate, the scent of roses hit you, your mother’s prized bush blooming full and red next to the fence.

Simon stopped just outside your childhood home, as if some invisible boundary had been set between him and you. His eyes glanced at the rose bush, then back at you, his expression unreadable, that same distant mask he had worn for years.

“Thanks for walkin’ me home,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, though you weren’t sure why you felt the need to lower it. It wasn’t likely that your parents would be waiting behind the curtains, watching this uncomfortable farewell.

They never cared much for Simon anyway.

His face was unreadable, shadowed by the dim light that illuminated the porch, but you could see his hazel eyes flicker as they scanned your features, taking you in like he was committing this moment to memory. And for a fleeting second, it was as if you weren’t standing on the cusp of goodbye, as if you were still those two awkward kids, stuck in a world neither of you could quite escape.

You did the same. Your eyes traced the sharp lines of his face, his sandy blonde hair, his broad shoulders, the faint stubble along his jawline that he hadn’t had when you last saw him. There was something fragile about this moment, a shared understanding that neither of you would speak of, but it was there all the same.

Before you could second-guess yourself, before you could let the fear of rejection stop you, you took a step forward and wrapped your arms around him. The contact was sudden, your body instinctively pulling him into a hug that neither of you expected.

It was an impulsive decision, a desperate, clumsy attempt to offer some comfort, to bridge the gap between the boy you once knew and the man standing before you. You pulled him into you, your blushed face pressing against his hard chest. For a heartbeat, he froze, stiff beneath your touch, and you immediately regretted it.

You didn’t know why you did it.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the lingering guilt, the sense that you had never done enough, never said enough. But as soon as you felt the warmth of his body against yours, the solidness of him, you realised your mistake. This wasn’t the kind of goodbye Simon wanted. You pulled away quickly, your cheeks burning with embarrassment, your heart racing.

“Take care, Si,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t wait for him to respond, didn’t dare look at his face to gauge his reaction. Instead, you turned on your heel, practically fleeing up the path to your front door, leaving him standing there beneath the roses—roses that were as red as your cheeks, blooming in the quiet of the night.

[outromoony]

Happy birthday to the magnificent Sirius Black. When people talk about him, It’s always “Sirius was reckless" "Sirius was immature” but never:

“Sirius was the first and only Black in history to go to Gryffindor and not Slytherin because he was obligated by his family to be brave.”

“Sirius was so selfless at the age of eleven that he never believed in his family’s ideals and went against them despite the consequences.”

“Sirius became an Animagus as a teenager just so his best friend didn’t have to spend his full moons alone.”

“Sirius joined the Order of the Phoenix as soon as he finished school, even when, with his last name and blood status, he could have just lived a normal and peaceful life.”

“Sirius would have rather died than betray James and Lily.”

“Sirius could have escaped Azkaban much earlier, but he didn’t because he didn’t believe he deserved it—until the moment protecting Harry was on the line.”

“Sirius gave Harry his first broom toy, and years later, he gave him a real broom.”

“Sirius risked it all to watch Harry play Quidditch in his dog form, even when he was in danger.”

“Sirius wanted to give Harry—and maybe even himself—a proper family for the first time in both their lives.”

“Sirius, even after years spent in Azkaban, was still eager to fight and always so, so alive.”

“Sirius never had the chance to be a child in that house, and his time had basically stopped when he was twenty-two, yet everyone still expected him to be mature.”

“Sirius, yeah, sometimes reckless, but his loyalty burned brighter than any impulsiveness.”

“Sirius wore his heart on his sleeve, loving fiercely and without reservation, even if it meant facing pain and loss.”

“Sirius understood loss in a way most never could, and still chose to love openly, holding on to the hope that family didn’t have to be defined by blood.”

“Sirius understood that the world was messy, and he embraced that messiness with an unyielding spirit.”

“Sirius lived, truly lived, because he had seen the depths of despair and emerged from it, still hopeful and ready to fight.”

[bookwormjust]

Imagine: Falling Asleep During Game Night with the Inner Circle

The House of Wind was filled with laughter, the kind that echoed off the walls and warmed every corner of the grand dining room. It was game night with the Inner Circle, and everyone was gathered around the long table, plates pushed aside to make room for cards, dice, and various betting tokens. Rhysand and Cassian were loudly debating the rules of some card game Feyre had just learned, while Mor was dramatically telling Amren how she was, once again, going to win it all.

You sat beside Azriel, leaning against his broad shoulder as you watched the chaos unfold. His hand rested protectively on your knee, a gentle reminder of his presence amidst the boisterous crowd. Every so often, his thumb would brush over your skin, sending little sparks of warmth through you—a silent conversation only the two of you shared.

Tonight had been long, filled with laughter and the gentle teasing that came with friends who were more like family. The warmth of the room, the comfort of Azriel’s presence, and the steady hum of chatter began to lull you into a soft haze of drowsiness. You blinked, trying to keep up with the game and the playful banter, but the edges of your vision grew fuzzy.

“Alright, next round—Y/N, you in?” Cassian’s booming voice cut through your thoughts, and you jolted slightly, blinking up at him. You caught a smirk playing at the corners of Azriel’s lips as he watched you try to focus.

You nodded, fighting off the sleep tugging at your eyelids. “I’m... I’m in.”

Azriel leaned down, his voice a soft whisper meant only for you. “You don’t have to stay awake, you know. No one will mind.”

You shook your head, a sleepy smile tugging at your lips. “I’m fine, I want to—” but your words trailed off, and you let out a soft yawn, snuggling closer to his warmth.

Rhysand, watching from across the table, exchanged a knowing look with Feyre. “I think someone’s had enough for the night,” he teased gently, his voice full of amusement.

You rolled your eyes playfully, though you could barely keep them open. “I’m still awake,” you mumbled, but even as you said it, your head lolled onto Azriel’s shoulder.

Azriel chuckled softly, a sound so rare and reserved that it made your heart flutter even in your sleepy state. He shifted slightly, wrapping an arm around you and adjusting so you could rest more comfortably against him. His shadows swirled gently around your form, like a protective blanket, shielding you from the noise and commotion.

“Go to sleep,” Azriel murmured, his lips brushing your temple. “I’ll be here.”

You managed a small nod, your eyes finally closing as you let the comfort of his presence envelop you. You could faintly hear Cassian’s mock protests, something about you being too adorable and stealing all of Azriel’s attention, but it was all a distant hum now.

Azriel’s arm tightened around you slightly, his other hand resting on the table as he continued to play with the others, only now with a slight shift—every move, every decision made with one arm still holding you close. He didn’t miss a beat, keeping his cool demeanor even as his thumb absentmindedly stroked your arm.

“She’s out,” Mor whispered with a fond smile, glancing over at you, your breathing even and peaceful against Azriel’s side.

Azriel simply nodded, a soft, rare smile gracing his lips as he gazed down at you. “She’s had a long day,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a gentle affection that made everyone else around the table exchange knowing glances.

They continued the game, softer now, as if instinctively not wanting to disturb you. Azriel never moved, never faltered, keeping you cradled against him as you slept, a silent sentinel in the midst of the cheerful gathering.

To anyone else, it might have seemed insignificant, but for Azriel, this was everything—having you close, safe, and resting in the warmth of the bond you shared. As the night wore on, Azriel stayed right where he was, his heart content and his gaze occasionally drifting from the game to the peaceful rise and fall of your breaths. He could feel the bond thrumming softly between you, a steady, soothing reminder that you were his, and he was yours.

And in that quiet moment, as the laughter continued around the table and the stars shone brightly outside, Azriel knew there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

[scudslut]

ahhh yes yes, I haven’t written him too subby on here yet so I was super excited to write this❤️ I hope you like it @darylsgirl23 <3

Heartsease

Daryl x f!reader

Setting: Bridge Camp/Post Savior War

Wordcount: 2.6k

Warnings: 18+, softdom reader, unestablished relationship (but both know there’s a little somethin somethin iykwim), aka your his and everyone knows it, oral (m - receiving), unprotected piv, premature finish

Daryl was never one to keep still.

It made him anxious to be in one place for too long, always going on runs and patrols ensuring his people were as safe and provided for as they could be. He felt at ease outside the walls, out of people's prying gazes, and left alone to do his part for the community in peace. These days though, he was a flurry of activity. Hardly ever in the same spot long enough to see the sun rise and set again.

You knew he felt guilty - that he was angry and didn't know how to release it. You'd watch him work on the bridge for hours, frustration seeping out of his bones and into the atmosphere around him. It hung off him like a phantom.

The vast majority of the community was intimidated by it. They would walk on eggshells in his presence as if they could predict an oncoming outburst. But you knew better, you knew him.

He was angry at the world, yes. But he was distraught with himself... his own mind. It ran a mile a minute and gave absolutely zero reprieve. Anyone could see that if they dug just a bit deeper, looked at him a little closer.

Sure he was strong and burly; a true beast of a man, but he was also quiet and thoughtful. He cared so deeply about others that it frightened him to his core. All he wanted was to protect his family and do right by them.

And you saw all of that.

You had for years now and it only made your desire for him stronger. You wanted to thank him. Drop down to your knees and worship every freckle and scar that made him, him. He deserved it, deserved an escape.

Initially, you thought maybe he wasn't into that and preferred to keep his relationships asexual, to which you were perfectly happy to abide by. Any time spent with him was cherished time in your eyes. But during a sleep-deprived chat with Carol one night on patrol, long ago, you had found out he did have a few sexual encounters before the apocalypse. Just none that had truly meant much to him, or that he was entirely sober for.

That small bit of insight helped you understand the man so much more and you carefully dropped your hints from that point on. However, with your luck, every time you thought something might happen between you two, the moment would slip right through your aching fingers, dusted away by whatever imminent danger lurked behind each corner.

To be quite honest, you were getting fed up with the world's continuous cruel jokes, and from the looks of things, Daryl could use a healthy distraction right about now.

Ears perking at the familiar rumble you'd grown to love, you watched as he pulled up on his trusty, beaten-up Nighthawk, finally returning from a longer visit at Hilltop. You could see the sheen layer of sweat built up above his furrowed brows, his teeth nibbling away at his lower lip - an anxious habit you had picked up on mere days after meeting him.

His mind was bothering him. That much was clear.

He shuffled quickly to his tent, gaze transfixed on the muddy shoes he wore, avoiding any onlookers who wanted to ask their silly questions, throwing the flaps open, and disappearing in a fluster.

You knew better than to bother him now, give him some time to gather his thoughts and decompress. You whittled away at your spears, biding the time as you devised a plan on how you would approach him. After all, the last thing you wanted was to scare him off or embarrass him in any way. He was reserved when it came to these situations, unsure of himself. The few times you had brushed lips or touched him a bit heatedly, he was jumpy and almost insecure, as if he needed instructions on how he should behave. It was extremely endearing to you; like a stray pup who just needed a little reassurance and affection to calm his fierce walls of doubt.

It was almost dusk when you finished with your spears, gathering them up and placing them near some of the other weapons the community used when needed. You scanned the grounds, noticing everyone collected by the fire, dishing up for a late dinner. You quickly made your way over, grabbing two portions and slipping away before you were noticed and stopped for conversation. You knew Daryl wouldn't get one for himself, spew some excuse that 'he wasn't hungry' or was 'too tired' when really, he just didn't want to take away from another. Even if that meant he didn't eat or drink anything for days at a time. It made your heart blister for more reasons than one.

You balance both plates on your left arm, reaching to pull the flaps open slowly, not wanting to startle him with your arrival, "Dar? You asleep?" you whisper into the dim den.

You hear a grunt, some shuffling, and in a moment a soft glow fills the area as he lights a nearby lamp, perching up on his small cot, "I was."

Flicking off your boots, you zip the entrance closed behind you, "I brought you some dinner, figured you'd be hungry after your trip," You smile and he mutters a quiet thanks, opting to accept your kind offer rather than argue with you, he knew you wouldn't take no for answer anyway. He scoots to the side, creating a spot for you to sit while you two eat in comfortable silence. He liked that you didn't feel the need to fill the air, that you could simply enjoy each other's company without all the small talk. You were one of the few people he'd met in his life, who just inherently understood him, down to the most basic level. He hated leaving you all the time like he had been, just another thing to nag at his over-exhausted mind.

Hearing him sigh quietly, you cast your eyes over, watching as he scrapes up the remaining crumbs off his plate, placing it outside the tent along with yours for you both to deal with in the morning.

"I imagine your pretty tired, huh?" You ask, following his movements as he plops down again beside you.

"Nah, not really. Got a few hours 'fore ya came bustin' in here," he grumbles with a small smirk and you lean into him nudging his shoulder playfully. "Why ya wanna chat or somethin'?"

You consider him for a minute, trying to find the proper words to initiate what was truly on your mind. You knew you had no reason to be nervous. That even though you'd never labeled anything between you guys, you both felt it. Knew it was there. You just needed the right moment. Now was as good a time as any, you figured.

"No, I just- I wanna try something."

He nods his head for you to continue, so you scoot closer, placing your hand delicately on his shoulder and bringing your face centimeters from his. You stop just before you close the gap, gauging his reaction. His breath hitches slightly and you feel his pulse rapid under your fingertips, but he doesn't pull away. Taking that as the only confirmation you'll get, you press your lips to his softly, brushing your thumb against his stubbly, pink cheek. He takes a good minute to respond, carefully moving his lips back against yours and placing his hands on your hips. You feel him squeeze, eliciting a quiet moan of encouragement from you and he all but sinks into your touch, falling into a comfortable rhythm with your lips. You stay like that for a while, breathing in his piney scent and relishing in his gentle kneads at your waist. It wasn’t much to the untrained eye, but you knew that was his way of pouring his affection into you without so many words. His way of telling you he was yours.

You drag your kisses down his neck, nibbling and sucking at the salty flesh between his collarbones. His breaths grow uneven and you can feel him begin to tense again, unused to such personal attention, "Is this okay?" You ask, not wanting to push him past his boundaries. He only nods in response, his throat feeling like the Sahara.

He has to admit, he's thought about this many times, relieved himself to thoughts of you too many times to count over the years. He's just never known how to approach you about it, scared you'd reject him or he'd do something wrong.

He watches as you slip to your knees before him, your eyes glued to his. "You'll let me know if you want me to stop, yeah?" As he tries to nod in response again, you stop him, "I need you to say it to me," You press.

"Y-yea, I'll say somethin'," he whispers timidly and you grin, beginning to unbuckle his belt and slip his raged jeans down. You kiss down his strong thighs, feeling them tremble slightly beneath you. His hard-on is poking through his boxers and you drag your lips across it, placing soft pecks down the length of him, listening to his breathy pants. You didn't realize how turned on you'd be, having him all flushed and needy for you, but god were you enjoying it. Slipping your fingers into the waistband, you tug them down and his cock springs free, precum leaking from the pretty, pink tip.

"You dun have'ta," he mutters, anxiety sweeping over him fast, even though he really, really does want to. You catch his gaze, noticing how dark his stormy eyes have gotten.

"Let me take care of you, sweetheart," you reply, pressing soft kisses from the base to tip, feeling him pulse under your touch. You enclose your mouth around him, taking almost his entire length at once and you hear a guttural groan from above you, his knuckles white from the clutch they had on the bedsheets.

You wondered if he had ever had a woman go down on him before. Judging by the gasps and twitches he was emitting, if he had, it hadn't been for a very long time.

He bucks into you, searching in a daze for more friction, and you pin his hips down, earning a deep whine from him. You knew if he wanted to, he could easily overpower you, use your mouth to his heart's content, but he wouldn't. He wanted you to take charge. Needed it.

Raking your eyes over his heaving figure, you slide your tongue along his shaft, moving in slow, sensual circles as you bob up and down. Daryl's head is tossed back, eyes screwed shut and you can tell he won't last much longer. The sensitivity of not being touched in so long, sprinting towards him at full speed. You pull back, slowing your movements. He lifts his head off the wall, pale blue eyes blown to darkness as he watches you take him so sweetly, "Please," He whispers.

When you shake your head, humming a soft, "Not yet," as best you can around him, his eyes roll back into his skull, entirely overwhelmed by the overstimulation, but loving it nonetheless. "I-I can't," He gasps, his accent muddled even stronger in his lustful state. You have to squeeze your legs tighter, clenching around nothing hearing your man so utterly wrecked beneath you. You want to draw it out for hours. Have him begging you to let him cum down your awaiting throat. However, you decide you both have waited damn long enough to prolong your union even more.

Releasing him with a soft kiss to his leaking tip, you stand in front of him, shimmying out of your clothes as quickly as you can. "Lay down for me, baby,' You direct, moving the straddle him as he eagerly follows your orders, turning lengthwise on the makeshift bed. His eyes never leave yours as you sit down on him, groaning when he feels how wet you are pressed against his cock. "Have you thought about this before, pretty boy?" His cheeks flush crimson at your sultry compliments, nodding curtly whilst avoiding your stare.

"Dar." You press.

You were being so gentle yet stern with him it was making it brain fuzzy, all stressors from the day long washed away to be replaced by only you.

"Have, yeah," He huffs in embarrassment, trying with great difficulty not to portray how truly turned on your words were making him. But you saw right through him... or rather felt him. You lean forward, kissing and nipping up his neck to the shell of his pink ears, "Do you want me to stop?"

A full-body shiver jolts through him when he feels your warm breath against his ear, involuntarily rolling his hips into yours and you chuckle at his obvious sensitivity. He knows he needs to use his words. You won't be letting him off that easy. "Please don't," Is all he manages and it seems to do the trick. You grip his length, tracing it along your soaked folds, and slowly sink down. Your careful as you take in his reaction, scanning his expression for any signs of discomfort. He bites his lip, his eyes squeezed shut and lets out a muffled groan.

"Fuck," He mumbles, and you're surprised to hear him say anything you didn't need to pry out of him. A positive sign, you determined and start to bounce your hips slowly, creating a synchronized dance between your bodies. Your body is buzzing as you ride him, finally feeling the dull ache you’ve had for the man below you begin to dissipate as he whimpers oh so softly for only you to hear. His hands grip your waist hard enough to leave bruises to find in the morning, but you hardly give it a second thought. All you can think about is Daryl. His closeness, his warmth and strength, and-

He tenses beneath you, broken gasps leaving his chewed lips and suddenly he’s lifting you off of him, soaking your thighs and abdomen completely. You gawk as you watch him come down, sworn you haven’t ever seen something so fucking sexy in your life. His head tossed back, jumbled curses leaving his mouth, and dark auburn hair dripping with sweat. You don’t care that he finished before you, this was about him. But you see his eyes snap to yours when he fully comes back down to reality, cheeks blazing for a different reason than before.

Leaning towards him, you capture his lips with your own, tenderly pouring your affection into him, needing him to know you weren’t upset, “It’s okay, relax,” you whisper against him with a soft smile, leaning your forehead onto his. His eyes are filled with guilt, “I mean it, Dar,” And he’s back to his nods of response.

He didn’t need any more words of sympathy. He knew you were happy as a kid on Christmas, he just needed to accept it for himself. So with one last peck to his cherry lips, you slide off him, grab a rag to clean yourself up with, and scoot right in beside him, craving his warmth. He turns to you quickly, grabbing your waist and pulling you impossibly closer to him, burying his head into the crook of your neck. You feel a few soft pecks from him along your jaw and you sigh contentedly, wrapping your limbs around his, reeling in your post-coital glow.

You were safe, snuggled with your love, and that was all you needed.

[bunny-jpeg]

🎀 can i get a pithivier and angel food cake and croissant nanaimo bars (but also a pull-apart bread bc i’m a softy) with a side of a martini and an early grey 🤭 for daniel ricciardo pretty please ❤️❤️

bakery menu

want to submit an order? then check out the menu! there is all kinds of things on there! thank you in advance and enjoy! as for this lovely anon, thank you so much for the order! i hope you love what i've come up with! with the cherry on top of the pull-apart bread! AND the mafia au, this was a lovely order to write. i hope it's amazing! so yes! enjoy!!

pithivier ("if you don't behave, i'll let the boys take care of you.") + angel food cake ("if he fucks with me again, i'm finishing inside of you.") + croissants ("i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me.") + nanaimo bars ("who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it.") + pull-apart bread ("i love you") + martini (mafia au) + earl grey tea (big cock) served by daniel ricciardo (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, mafia au, big cock!daniel, wolff!reader, mafia boss!daniel, mafia boss daughter!reader, affection

the wolf and her moon. the smiling moon that led her from the pack and into the arms of one of the scariest men on the continent. in the glimmering lights of monaco, miss wolff spent her evenings with mister ricciardo, the head of a prominent mafia family.

you were not scared of that life, your adoring father was toto wolff. you had been surrounded by the life for as long as you could remember. you remembered being driven to school by men in dark suits. you remembered going on dates as a teen and seeing the same men in shady corners near where you were. even now as an adult the cloak of your father felt close.

which was why it took a fair bit to get close to daniel ricciardo.

you had been with daniel for a few months now. there was something about him that simply pulled you in. you knew he was a dangerous man, you once spent a night in france with him and mapped out his tattoos with your lips.

he treated you like you were capable, that you weren't something to be protected. even though he did have a habit of keeping a hand on your lower back and opening doors for you. you've only ever once paid for a meal and he loved when you wore the things he bought for you.

currently you were in his home, you just had dinner and were enjoying each other's company. daniel's thick fingers were in your hair as you laid out next to him. the lights were low and you both weren't pay attention to the movie he had put on. you knew it was a marvel movie, but you stopped paying attention to them ages ago.

"i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me." daniel said out loud.

you sighed and pressed yourself further against him and looked up at him, "my father doesn't matter right now. he's off doing whatever tonight."

he rubbed the back of your head and said jokingly, "well you know, if he fucks with me or the family again, i'm finishing inside of you." then kissed you on the face.

you pulled away a little, "i've been hearing all about this power vacuum. should i be worried that you'll do something to my father."

daniel pulled you in once more and peppered your face with kisses, "never. after all, he'll eventually be my father-in-law." and watched you duck your head in embarrassment. he laughed, "i want the satisfaction of him walking you down the aisle.

you rolled your eyes and kissed him all over the face, "i just want both of you safe." you got into his lap and held onto his face. the kiss deepened with his strong arms around you.

when he pulled away he said, "i promise." then pulled you onto your back and kissed you once more, "i can't have my future wife without her husband." he chuckled and stroked your face.

you melted every time he called you that. you sometimes wondered if he was already picking out rings and if you were brought up in backroom conversations between him and your father.

he peppered kissed along your jaw and felt a pull of affection towards you, "i love you."

you giggled and stared up at him, you felt a blush in your cheeks. you felt a thump in your chest and love that dripped into your soul. you joked, "for a mafia boss, you're a big softie."

he rolled his eyes, "what do you want me to say? if you don't behave, i'll let the boys take care of you? never. i love you too much." then kissed at you softly.

you melted a little more, honey in your soul, "you big sap!" you slapped his chest playfully and he pulled you in for a massive kiss.

"yeah, but you're my pretty girl." he want in for another kiss and said slyly, ""who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it."

you burst into laughter and squirmed under him. he soon had the bottom of your tank top off over your head and his hands on your breasts.

"c'mon, beautiful. who is my pretty girl? who is the girl who lights me alive and fills me full of love." he kissed at your face with his hands on your breasts. he palmed at the flesh and you arched your back.

you moaned and he started to work on getting your sweatpants off. in all fairness they originally belonged to him, but you told him that women's sweatpants sucked. "if i'm wearing sweatpants, i don't wanna look sexy!" but he thought you looked sexy in his pair.

you reached out for him and placed your palms across his covered chest. he was in a white tank top and similar grey sweats (the other pair he had to buy). you could see the thin gold chair he wore.

it was a hot sight, especially as he got the tank top off and exposed his toned chest to you. you exhaled deeply through you nose and said, "fuck you're hot. my entire life i thought that the mafia were a bunch of busted nose with a fat lip goons who enjoyed beating the shit out of random people." that was what your father told you about men who worked for the families as a means to steer you away from them. he wanted you to be with a man with a white collar job.

"well." daniel chuckled as he rubbed his clothed cock up against your panties, "you've seen me with a fat lip, two broken noses and a broken foot."

"it wasn't broken per say. you did have to get those stitches."

daniel chuckled, "damn verstappen, dropping that wine bottle on it." he got himself out of his briefs and you out of your panties. he admired the sight of your sweet cunt exposed in the soft lighting of the bedroom.

you swallowed at the sight of his cock out of his underwear. daniel had a big cock, you remember the first time you saw it and your eyes got wide. it still left a shiver through it you even now, but you were a little more accustomed to its size.

daniel got closer to you, his chest against yours as he took you by the hips. with a little work, he sank his cock into you. you let out a sweet moan and daniel felt a flash of heat in his chest.

"mmm, beautiful."

you smiled up at him and reached for his face. you pulled him in to a soft kiss and ran your fingers across his chest. his heartbeat was home.

your arms wrapped around him as he thrusted up into you. the two of you moved together, daniel's gaze lingered on you. from your beautiful eyes to your soft lips. the shape of your face and any little 'imperfections' across your skin. he thought it was all beautiful, he tried not to leer at your breasts. you were a person, not meat for him to ogle at.

you held onto him as he continued to move. you could felt lustful flames lick at you core. your back arched a little when his cock prodded up against some of your softest areas.

daniel was a generous lover, he loved the feeling of you. his kisses lingered, wet against your face and neck. you two were wound up into one another as he moved his hips against yours.

from two mafia families, put together. fitting together like puzzle pieces. if anyone from either of your family saw this sexual display, heads would roll.

but you and daniel didn't care. you wanted one another in a way that left you both feeling lot. it wasn't just a sexual heat, but something deeper. something that made you yearn for the other man.

when you looked at him, you felt special. you were a special girl in many ways, not only because of your father's name. you were smart, funny, had friends, and overall were a delight to be about. you had hobbies and aspirations. you were one of a kind, but when daniel looked at you. it sent it all into overdrive, to daniel you were the most important thing on this earth.

you knew with enough convincing, you two could leave the mafia life behind together. run off to the mountains of switzerland and have three children.

daniel kissed you once more, they were hot and heavy as your hands explored one another. you could almost feel your lover's heartbeat.

when he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, "one day i'm going to marry you. and i can't wait. you're going to make a beautiful wife for me."

"what about-"

"it'll work out." he pulled his face a little bit and he winked at you. he plants his hands on either side of you and continued to thrust up into you.

you clutched onto his shoulders and he moved faster. you felt the flush of heat through your chest at the feeling and sight of your beloved. this was where you wanted to be. with daniel.

daniel continued to move against you. he shifted your hips and got your knees to your head. he thrusted against you from the perfect angle. a proper mating press for a proper girl.

it only heightened the pleasure, to have you lover hit all the right spots. you moaned and clutched onto the back of your knees as he moved against you. he kissed you once more before you came around his cock. your pretty nails dug into your flesh as he moved against you. the intensity of it made daniel finish as well.

his cum shot into the furthest parts of you as he continued to rock against you. his pulse shot through the roof and sweat made his back shiny. the rush was like a shock to his system. he held you in his arms and rolled to the side.

you laid there naked, daniel's arms around you and eventually your face was in his chest. you felt the after feelings of pleasure and laid tangled up in the man you loved.

he kissed the side of your head and you felt warm. loved.

-

"sonnenschein." your father greeted you in his home office a few days later. you stepped into the room and closed the door behind you. your father gestured to the chair across from him.

you sat gently across from him, straightened your skirt. you then looked at your father once more and asked, "is everything okay?"

"of course. no need to worry." was a common phrase from your father. it made you give him a look and he gave a similar one in return. "you know i care for you, right?" toto said, his hands on the desk. he idly straightened out the mat under his palms. your father seemed nervous, your father was never nervous.

you shifted in your seat, "what's happening, papa." your eyebrows raised and there was a tightness in your chest.

toto sighed, eyes looked away for a moment, "things have gotten complicated in the network of all the families. there is a struggle for power. i fear something is coming and i need to protect you, sonnenschein...."

"are you sending me away?"

"no, no... you'll stay here. of course. i don't want you to feel like a pawn in these games. but, i need the biggest favor from you."

you nodded, "anything."

toto leaned back in his chair and held eye contact with you. the man who taught you how to ride a bike and a shoot a gun. who told you that dreams were only possible if the work was put into it. he had raised a confident young woman. which was why it broke his heart to say, "i need you to be in an arranged married with daniel ricciardo."

your eyes went wide and your heart skipped a beat. you put on a performance of a lifetime as you said to your father, "of course! anything for our family." <3

[hanafubukki]

Can be seen as a part 2 to this fic (after some time has passed that is) or can be read as a stand-alone.

“Leave me alone human!”

“For someone who is chained to the ground and gravely injured, you’re pretty loud.”

“I’ll rip you from limb to limb.”

“Why don’t you get better first before we get there hmm?”

General Lilia Vanrouge screeched at you in the fae language, some of which you knew were curses. Ah yes, you can’t wait to make fun of your Lilia when you get back to your time. His cursing while playing video games had you easily recognizing some of them now.

Luckily for you and your ears, the General wore himself out. The wounds from the iron and those of the battles weakened him.

It didn’t help that he also had a fever as a result. You were put in this cell to help him recover. Humpty Dumpty- well, King Henrik, implied it was the least you could do.

A random human that was pick up by his men, who was using valuable resources that could go to his soldiers instead. Never mind the fact that you helped treat said soldiers and gather said resources.

The Knight of Dawn had clenched his fist, about to speak up on your behalf. But you simply grabbed his hand and shook your head. It wasn’t worth it. King Henrik would just make his life harder for talking back, and you didn’t want that. The Knight of Dawn dealt with enough, you didn’t want to add onto his troubles.

…But you also didn’t realize that meant staying locked up in this cell with General Lilia Vanrouge either.

The General wasn’t exactly happy when he first met you, and you couldn’t blame him. You just weren’t used to the open hatred from familiar eyes you would see everyday. Eyes that were always friendly to you, now burned you.

The first time you tried to provide him treatment, he had fought back until his wounds weakened him to an unconscious state. You had silently treated him then. Not a soul a witness to your tears.

As the weeks passed, the General gradually stopped fighting back, probably due to his weakening state…it didn’t shut his mouth though funny enough.

You were only let out for a change of clothes, a bath, a proper meal, and a bed to sleep in every few days. Even then, King Henrik made it seem as if that was too good for you.

You later found out it was due to the Knight of Dawn’s request that you were even allowed such accommodations. Your heart ached at the idea of what he must have gone through to get you this, as you knew King Henrik did not treat him well.

You breathed softly, you wished you could return home soon.

You were dressing a wound on Lilia when you felt him stir.

“Melea…Le…B…”

You took a wet cloth and wiped his forehead.

He must be dreaming about his family.

You knew all would be well in the future, but that didn’t mean current events didn’t affect you.

It hurt you to see so many struggle in a useless war, due to greed from one man.

Lilia clutched at his stomach, his sharp claw like nails reopening the wounds you had painstakingly bandaged.

You quickly grabbed his hands and sucked in a breath of pain. His nails dug into your skin, drawing blood. His grip could break your bones to tiny, incomprehensible pieces, but you held on.

You knew he wanted to be free and return home, to protect his loved ones. You were determined to heal him for that very reason.

“Damn it Lilia Vanrouge! You will get through this! You have so much to look forward to. So many people who love you! Now, stop being a prick and let me go so I can treat you!”

Surprisingly, he let you go. You ignored your bleeding, aching hands in order to reseal his wound.

“…will you be in that future?”

You froze, turning and looking into feverish eyes.

“Yes.”

General Lilia Vanrouge fell into a deep sleep for the next 10 days.

You were returning to Lilia’s cell when a knife was held to your neck.

“Human, where is the fae you captured?”

Ah, it seems rescue finally arrived for Lilia. It took them long enough.

You looked up into hardened, familiar eyes. Baul Zigvolt would have been a sight for sore eyes if he didn’t, you know, have a knife to your throat.

“I would gladly show you if you take that knife away.”

“You-”

“Besides, I was heading right in that direction. If you don’t want to be caught, you better hurry.”

You continued walking, listening to Baul grumble about frustrating humans. You couldn’t help the slight smile on your face as you remembered similar words said by his grandson.

You led Baul quickly and quietly to the cell that practically became a second home to you. No one in sight. You had noticed, unlike the men that the Knight of Dawn commanded, the men directly under King Henrik were…well, just like him: sleazy and lazy.

They let their guards down thinking The Right General of the Fae was too weak and couldn’t take any of them on. They even implied you were nothing but a sacrificial lamb should said Fae get angry, but of course, they would rescue you at a price.

It took you all you could not to spit in their faces or smash their heads on the wall. The self defense lessons Silver and Sebek taught you provided security that you would forever be grateful for.

It was due to this fatal thinking that Baul was able to infiltrate the base, as the men went to seek entertainment elsewhere.

When you arrived, you opened the cell door quietly so as to not hurt sensitive ears. The sun was high enough for the cell to be well lit.

You heard Baul hiss in anger before rushing to his general’s side. Lilia didn’t seem surprised to see him, telling you how he must have always known rescue would come for him.

“General!”

“Careful! You’ll-”

Baul recoiled from the burns the iron chains struck at him.

“I tried to warn you.” You shook your head. You sat next to Lilia, taking his hand in yours. From the corner of your eye, you could see Baul tense but Lilia motioned for him to remain calm.

You picked at the lock. Another thing to be thankful for, your lock picking skills, which you learned quickly from days you were locked outside of Ramshackle Dorm because Grim forgot the key or the door just wouldn’t open.

“You got it in one go this time.”

“I told you I had surprises up my sleeves. I just needed the right tools.”

“Hmm, so you say.”

Baul looked at both of you as if you both at grown two heads each. Lilia noticed his look and waved towards his feet. Where chains that should have been locked were open.

“Any longer, Baul, and I would have rescued myself.”

Baul stammered before apologizing. You turned away to hide your smile.

Within moments, the atmosphere changed. General Lilia Vanrouge had to escape and return to his men.

“Leave.”

“What?”

“You have to leave. You need to return to your troops."

Lilia clenched his jaw, looking at you. You couldn't return with him; you both knew that. It didn't stop him from trying, but you shook your head before he could even open his mouth.

"I can't go with you."

A human amongst the fae would not last long, at least not now. There was too much hatred.

You took the cuffs that had been his tormentor for so long and locked them around your hands. You chose to ignore the angry growl Lilia tried to hide at the sight of the cuffs now imprisoning you.

"I'll make it look like you escaped, now go."

"They'll hurt you."

You shook your head.

"The Knight of Dawn would never let that happen."

He knew you were right. The Knight of Dawn had visited several times, helping you treat his wounds and restrain him when the fever would have him lash out at you.

The Knight of Dawn had honor, as a fellow general and soldier, Lilia respected him for it. Lilia pulled one of his magic stones off his belt before offering it to you.

"Take this. Smash it to the ground if you need help, I'll find you."

You agreed and watched the two soldiers turn to leave. General Lilia Vanrouge hesitated before speaking, "You told me you would be in my future."

"I will be."

"You better keep that promise, YN."

"I will."

General Lilia Vanrouge and Baul Zigvolt vanished from your sight.

I'll see you both soon.

Part 3 (each part takes place after some time has passed) or can be read as a stand-alone.

Author’s Notes: I can’t believe this became a 1.5k fic, the way this bat fae drives me crazy. 😂💞🌺

[simplyholl]

A Night With The Winter Soldier

Summary: You’re sent to be Hydra’s test subject for a new serum.

Pairing: F. Reader x Winter Soldier Bucky

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI. Dark Bucky. Non con. Oral. Unprotected sex.

See My Masterlist Here

A/N: I know I don’t usually write for Bucky, but this idea has been stuck in my head for a long time. I’m just tagging my regular tag list, if you’re not into dark fics, please skip! ❤️

Fucked. That’s what you were or at least what you were going to be. You shake your head as you cover your skimpy lingerie with the matching robe your mother gave to you.

Your father is the head scientist for Hydra. He had been working on this experiment for years. He had created a serum that would cause Super Soldiers to want to reproduce. The end result would be a perfect Super Soldier baby. He finally perfected it. Who could be a better test subject than his daughter?

You begged him. You pleaded and cried. It was unfair to expect this of you. But he didn’t care how you felt. He said it was your duty to do as you were told. You didn’t want to make Hydra upset with your family, did you? You knew the horrors that awaited you if you refused. Your best friend, Lilly and her whole family disappeared three years ago when her father refused a command from Hydra. They were brutal and cruel. Sadly, you were used to it.

Hydra came first. Before yourself, before your family, your loyalty had to be unwavering. You knew it wasn’t really your father who had suggested it be you. Your mother told you it was one of the higher ups. He had seen you in your new sundress a few weeks ago and thought you would be perfect to carry the first Super Soldier baby.

It made you sick. How could they do this? You didn’t want to know what would happen if you refused. “At least, he is the strongest Super Soldier. This baby’s genes will be impeccable with the both of you for parents.” Your mother reassured you, as if it would help you feel better.

You weren’t naive. You and the baby would be monitored from the moment you got pregnant. As soon as you gave birth, the child would be ripped from your arms and watched closely. It wouldn’t really be yours.

You take the elevator to the thirteenth floor, heart racing wildly. You were scared. You had seen the Super Soldiers behind glass doors where you were protected from them. Now, you were being offered on a silver platter to the biggest baddest one, like a worm on a hook waiting for a fish to jump after them.

Two guards stand outside the door to the windowless room. Their eyes roam over your barely covered body. They smirk at you as they type in the code to let you in. “Good luck, princess. You’re going to need it.” They evilly laugh as the door opens. Slowly, you walk in, your breath catching in your throat as you hear the steel door bang tightly shut behind you.

The room is dimly lit. A leather chair in one corner, a bed pressed against the wall, there’s a table with a half worked puzzle on it. It was so dreary, your heart aches for the poor guy that called this room home. You walk over to the table, running your hand over the puzzle. That’s when you feel it. Even though you couldn’t see him, you’re not alone. He’s in here with you, hid in the dark corners somewhere. You turn around to find him staring at you.

The Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes, you had demanded to know his name before you did this. His dark hair hung in waves by his cheeks, his cold blue eyes focused on your body. He was beautiful. You weren’t used to seeing him without the black mask he usually wore. He was shirtless, his silver, metal arm catching your attention. You studied it. The way it looks like it was forcefully put on, the red star on his shoulder. He was always silent, brooding in the shadows. You had never been this close to him.

You reach for his face, wanting to feel him before all this started. His metal arm stops you, cold hand wrapping around your wrist. You squeak when he twists your arm behind your back, walking you toward the table.

He presses you against it, you feel his erection threatening to burst out of his black pants. One swipe of his free hand knocks the puzzle to the floor. Colorful pieces scatter all around you. He lifts you on top of the table, the cold surface making you gasp when your bare legs land on it.

Bucky holds you with his metal arm, the other one makes quick work of your flimsy robe. He grabs your breast through the thin fabric of your lingerie. You squirm under his touch as he pinches your nipple through the lace.

“You don’t know how bad I need this. Been a long time since I’ve had a pretty girl like you in my bed.” You’re shocked when he speaks to you. You had been warned that he wouldn’t talk to you at all. He takes a step back to look at you, zeroing in on your panties.

He pushes your back to the wall, commanding you to stay there. You obey, you didn’t want to upset him and make this worse for yourself. He holds your top in one hand, jerking the material. The sound of it’s ripping, startling you. He was crazy strong. The thought of being manhandled by him sounded better by the second.

Next was your panties, he stripped you of them quickly, pulling you by your legs to the edge of the table. He got on his knees before you, shoving his face to your core. He licks one fat stripe up your center, moaning as he tastes you. He swirls his tongue across your clit, you buck your hips up to get closer.

Bucky pushes you down with his metal arm, ensuring that you wouldn’t be able to move. You accept your fate, laying back as he laps at you. He fucks you with his tongue, his nose rubbing expertly against your sensitive nub. The band tightly wound in your stomach snaps as he drags his wicked tongue across your clit, sucking you between his lips. He doesn’t hold back his moans as your arousal floods his face.

When he emerges, his face is glistening because of you. He wipes it off with the back of his flesh hand. Bucky jerks you off the table, pointing to the cold, cement ground. “On your knees.” You sink down in front of him as he sheds his pants. You’re surprised he hadn’t already taken them off.

You shift on your knees, trying to get comfortable. He could at least offer you a pillow to kneel on or something. You look around, and spot the only one on his bed. You’re about to ask for it, when he pulls your hair roughly, jerking your head toward his throbbing cock. It was huge. The kind of big that would hurt. You open your mouth, trying to take all of him inside.

You choke and gag, spit dribbling down your chin onto your breasts as you struggle. He looks down at you, hand still tangled in your hair. Your jaw aches already and he’s just getting started. He thrusts his hips forward, pushing your head down simultaneously. Tears fill your eyes as he hits the back of your throat. You can’t help the sob that escapes you as he pulls out, only to forcefully push his way back in.

His thumbs follow the tears on your cheeks, your mascara pooling under your eyes making you look like a raccoon. “You look so pretty when you cry.” He coos, while looking at you adoringly. He thrusts three more times, your nails dig into his thighs, a silent plea to stop. He finally pulls out, collecting you from the floor and gently placing you on his bed.

He places one leg over his shoulder, lining himself up at your entrance. He pushes inside and it’s too much. “It’s- you’re too big.” You explain. Bucky moves your other leg, spreading you wider. “You’re gonna take all of it.” He grunts, wedging himself inside you, bottoming out with one thrust. He ignores your pained scream, leaning down to lick your fresh tears.

“So tight. So perfect. Just for me.” He praises in your ear. Finally, the pain subsides. Bucky feels incredible, his thick cock dragging against the spot that makes your head swim. A gush of arousal soaks him as he swirls his metal thumb in circles on your clit.

“Look at you, such a good girl, dripping all over my cock.” You moan, clenching around him, your long nails clawing his back, drawing blood as your second orgasm rips through you. His thrusts grow sloppy as you feel him go still inside you. His hot cum, drips down your legs as he withdraws himself from you.

Bucky swipes it with his index finger, rubbing it with his thumb. He brings it to your lips, you swirl your tongue around his long digit, loving the way he tastes. You’re caught off guard when his icy, metal hand collects as much cum as he can, stuffing it back inside you.

You twitch, trying to pull away from the cold hand on your heat. “Ah ah ah.” He scolds. He presses his cool thumb to your clit, toying with the oversensitive pearl. “You have to take every drop.” When he’s satisfied with his work, he makes you lay on your back so it doesn’t drip back out.

You close your eyes, the sweet promise of sleep taking over you. You are almost in dream land when you feel the familiar nudge of Bucky’s cock at your sore center. “What are you doing?” You ask, too tired to fight him. “I’m not finished with you yet, doll.” He smiles wickedly, snapping his hips to fill you again.

Tags

@lokisgoodgirl @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @ozymdias @cindylynn @cakesandtom @eleniblue @marygoddessofmischief @mochie85 @goblingirlsarah @wheredafandomat @freegardenbanananeck @lokidokieokie @l0ki3000 @multifandom-worlds @alexakeyloveloki @ladymischief11 @kats72 @mischief2sarawr @lamentis-10 @loz-3 @litaloni @lulubelle814 @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @avengersfan25 @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @mybugabomlb @bunny24sstuff @luthien-elvenia-asher @gruftiela @asgards-princess-of-mischief @weirdothatwritess

[evabby]

— LOVE ME ANYWAY !

✧ bbf!abby anderson x reader ✧ wc . . 1137 ✧ developing feelings for abby anderson was never part of the plan. you’ve been told multiple times by your brother that she’s off limits — but the spark between you both is impossible to ignore, even if it risks her friendship with your brother and your family’s trust.

PROLOGUE > CHAPTER ONE

a/n : i’m so motivated to write yippeeeee prologueeee and yes i was listening to love me anyway on loop whilst writing this!!

the late summer air was thick with the smell of charcoal and the faint buzzing of bees. your backyard felt alive in the golden hour glow, the sun sinking low and covering everything in warm hues.

the sound of your brother’s voice carried over the hum of the grill as he flipped burgers, laughing at some inside joke abby had just made.

you sat at the picnic table, your soda clutched between your hands, watching the two of them interact.

it was the kind of easy camaraderie that came from years of friendship—a bond forged during their freshman year of college. they had been inseparable ever since.

your older brother ( by three years ), had always been protective of you. even when he teased you relentlessly, it was clear he’d do anything to keep you safe. he was outgoing, loyal—a natural leader who could walk into any room and gain attention.

his overprotective streak, however was so annoying to you. you wanted to go on a date? he’d find some way to call it off. you argued with one of your friends? you best believe he is going to their house to confront them.

abby was his counterpart in almost every way.

they met on the first day of college, bonding over their shared obsession with sports and the gym. where your brother was loud and charismatic, abby was steady and commanding. her confidence wasn’t the loud, showy kind—it was quiet, the kind that made people stop and take notice.

abby had been a part of your life since you were sixteen. she was there for family holidays, random weekend hangouts, and even a few late-night fast-food runs when your brother dragged you along.

you’d always seen her as this untouchable figure—confident, and a little intimidating. but to your brother, she was just abby: his best friend, his gym buddy, his partner in crime.

as you grew older, your perception of abby began to shift. it wasn’t one big moment—just small ones that added up over time. the way she smiled at you when your brother wasn’t looking, the way her teasing felt more personal, the way her presence made your stomach flutter.

but nothing could come of it. you knew that.

abby was off-limits, a fact your brother had made abundantly clear more than once. he trusted her, and he trusted you, but he was annoyingly protective of you both. the rule was simple: don’t cross that line.

still, you couldn’t help but notice her tonight. abby leaned casually against the patio railing, her blonde hair tied back in its usual braid, not one loose strand in sight. she wore a plain black tank top and jeans, with a relaxed frame.

“hey, you good over there?” your brother’s voice broke you out of your thoughts.

you blinked, realising you’d been staring at the table for far too long. “mhm, i’m fine,” you replied quickly, your voice a little too high-pitched.

abby’s sharp blue eyes flicked toward you, her smirk widening. “daydreaming again?” she teased, her voice warm and playful.

your brother didn’t catch her comment—he was too busy flipping burgers—but you felt your cheeks flush. “just zoned out,” you mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

abby chuckled softly, the sound low and almost too casual. it sent a shiver down your spine.

your brother and abby had always shared a banter-filled friendship. they bickered like siblings, sparred in the gym, and pushed each other to their limits. you’d spent years watching their dynamic unfold, marvelling at how well they balanced each other.

but what you hadn’t noticed until recently was how abby’s energy shifted when it was just the two of you.

as the evening wore on, the three of you settled into an easy rhythm. your brother kept the conversation flowing, cracking jokes and recounting stories from work. you chimed in here and there, but your focus kept slipping back to abby.

she laughed at your brother’s jokes, but there was something about her that felt.. distracted? her eyes lingered on you just a little too long, her smile shifting when your brother wasn’t looking.

eventually, your brother excused himself to grab more plates from the kitchen, leaving you and abby alone by the grill.

you shifted in your seat, suddenly hyper-aware of the silence between you. abby didn’t move right away, her eyes fixed on the glowing coals in front of her. then, slowly, she turned toward you, her smirk softening into something more genuine.

“so,” she said, her voice lower now, “you been keeping out of trouble?”

it was such a simple question, but the way she said it made your pulse quicken. you shrugged, trying to keep your tone casual. “yeah, i guess.”

abby tilted her head, her smirk returning. she hummed, looking over me before speaking. “trouble can be fun sometimes, y’know?”

you let out a soft laugh, hoping it sounded normal. “not really my thing.”

“no?” she asked, leaning a little closer. “i don’t know. i think you’ve got it in you.”

your heart thudded in your chest, the space between you shrinking. her tone was light, teasing, but her eyes were serious—sharp and focused, like she was testing you.

“pretty sure my brother would disagree,” you said, forcing a laugh to break the tension.

abby’s grin widened, but there was something softer in it now. “yeah, well. he doesn’t know everything, does he?”

the weight of her words hung in the air. for a moment, the only sound was the crackle of the grill and the distant hum of crickets. you opened your mouth to reply, but nothing came out. abby’s gaze held yours, unflinching, and you felt your breath hitch.

then, as if sensing you were about to crumble, she leaned back, her smirk playful once again. “relax,” she said, her tone lighter now. “i’m just messing with you.”

you let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. “oh— right.”

but as abby turned her attention back to the grill, you couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t just teasing.

when your brother returned, abby was back to her usual self. your brother handed out plates and started serving food, oblivious to the tension that had filled the air in his absence.

for the rest of the evening, you tried to focus on anything other than abby, but it was impossible. every time she laughed or caught your eye, your stomach flipped.

your mind was spinning. abby had always been bold, always confident, but tonight felt different. the way she looked at you, the way she spoke—it was as if she was daring you to see her differently.

and as you watched her laugh at another one of your brother’s jokes, her eyes flicking to yours with that same teasing spark, you realised something: you already did.

series masterlist don ‘ t buy tlou masterlist

PROLOGUE > CHAPTER ONE

[backmuscles21]

Providing

Tsu'tey x Reader

Summary: Just some fluff about Tsu'tey being a good mate while still being rude to everyone else.

Tsu’tey called himself a provider, he was a provider of many things to many people. He provided for his clan, his family, and his home but he’d never provide for anyone more than you. He prided himself on being the best mate ever and being able to protect you and provide for you. You would tell him constantly that he was the best mate anyone could ask for, it only served to inflate his ego further.

However, one thing Tsu’tey hated, you were so different from him and not just because you were a girl but because you were human still. Now you did have an avatar, you have mated with him before Eywa, but you did want to wait before fully transferring over your consciousness completely. You and Norm enjoyed getting to have a human side still. Tsu’tey hated it, he hated that when you fell asleep you weren’t really there with him. Don’t get me wrong, caring for two bodies is a challenge and sometimes you do wish that you didn’t have to. Tsu’tey hated that sometimes you’d sleep in or something and he’d have to go to the sky people and see you. He also hated when you got sick or something and then you wouldn’t link in for a while, he hated not having you in your avatar body.

Like today, you stayed up really late doing some paperwork and science experiments with some plants and you may have gone to bed at like four in the morning. The Na’vi were early risers for the most part, so when you weren’t up at around nine, Tsu’tey came to you. He walked over to the scientists’ tents and metal home base with his usual scowl on his face. He hated being over here with the humans, he warmed up to the sky people once he got to know you and Jake but he still didn’t love being by a whole bunch of them.

He walked up to the metal door, crouched down to get inside and grabbed one of the breathing masks. He walked into the lab and saw some faces he recognized not that he cared about any of them.

“Hey Tsu’tey,” Norm said as he brought his fingers to his forehead to sign ‘I see you’ which Tsu’tey returned out of respect.

“I’m looking for my mate.”

“She’s in her room.”

Tsu’tey stayed quiet, he didn’t know where your room was or at least couldn’t remember.

“It’s at the back, first right. You’ll see her name on the door.”

Tsu’tey nodded as he headed to your room with the directions given to him. He saw your name on the door, after you showed him how to spell your name and what your name being written out in English looked like, and entered the room. Boy, you were a sight for sore eyes, you had kicked some of the sheets off your body in your sleep. Your arms were raised and your head rested on its side as you lay on your back. You looked so peaceful and so soft, Tsu’tey couldn’t help but smile and brush the back of a finger on your cheek.

You stirred lightly, Tsu’tey placed a hand on your exposed stomach, his hands were so warm. Since Pandora was so hot, you wore next to nothing to sleep, your short shorts and cropped tank top revealed a lot of skin. Tsu’tey wasn’t bothered by it, not to mention he liked to feel your soft and smooth skin. His large hand was the size of your torso, his hand splayed on your stomach dwarfing you compared to him.

He decided to kiss you awake, he kissed your forehead then your stomach. He felt your legs move and watched as your face contorted and you whined as you were being woken from your slumber. Your eyes opened slowly and you looked at the blue giant kneeling by your bed, you smiled at him and stretched. You move to sit up a little and kiss his cheek, he pulls you right off the bed and into his lap. He held you close to his large body and you snuggled into him.

“I missed you this morning.”

“Sorry, I was up late.”

“I told you not to do that.”

“But I was making good headway.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“I’m sorry Tsu’tey, how could I ever make it up to you.”

“Be with me forever.”

“I already am.”

He kissed your cheek and you giggled slightly, he kissed you a few more times as you giggled and squirmed in his hold. His large hands held onto your tiny body as you held onto his much larger and longer arms.

You finally decided to get up out of bed, you stretched and grabbed your water bottle by your bed. You drank the little bit left inside before the sound of you sucking in air through the straw could be heard. You went to leave your room to get more water for your water bottle before Tsu’tey wrapped his arm around your waist.

“Where are you going?”

“Just to get more water.”

“I’ll get it for you.”

“It’s fine Tsu’tey, really.”

“I am your mate and I can provide for you.”

“Do you even know where the water cooler is?”

“I can find it.”

“Well, all the power to you then,” you hand him your water bottle and sit on your bed as he leaves, you knew there was no fighting with him on it.

He leaves your room and walks to where all the scientists are.

“You,” Tsu’tey points at Norm, “where do I find the water to fill this?” Tsu’tey showed him your water bottle he held.

“I can fill it up for you.”

“No, I can fill it myself for my mate.”

“It would probably be easier if I-“

“Just show me where it is.”

“It’s back down the same hallway as the bedrooms, but it will be the room without a door. You see the jug with the water in it. Just push the little handle down.” Tsu’tey didn’t entirely understand but he was nothing if not a good mate.

Tsu’tey went and searched for the contraption the human talked about, once he found what he presumed was the machine, he kneeled down and his large hand held your water bottle and his single finger pushed down on the lever. He felt so silly for doing things this way when he could go out and forge you fresh water with no problem.

He felt too big for this place and really, he was, it was made for at best a six-foot frame, he was like quadruple that. He went back to your room and handed you your water bottle, you had sat up on your bed and Tsu’tey sat on the floor in front of you. You smiled at him and took a big drink.

“Thank you.”

“Anything for my mate.”