#we would see stark differences in the way things are run

[undeniablycandycane]

I need to say this: if you're in the US, you are 18 or older and you haven't had your voting rights stripped away, VOTE. Do your research, look for candidates' ideals, look for history, try to avoid misinformation and opinion-driven news. Vote in local elections, vote in primaries, not just when it comes to President, because the majority of legislative decisions that affect us are made by elected officials, not just president.

Anyone who says your vote doesn't matter and is a waste of time may very well not want YOU voting. Be there at the ballot box, registered, peaceful, not wearing anything that can be considered "political" (even if it isn't) and exercise your legal right to vote.

[hurtspideyparker]

Tony doesn't tell the Avengers about Peter's secret identity, but Peter starts coming over constantly and chilling around the tower, helping Tony in his workshop or eating dinner with everyone.

Since Tony is weirdly secretive about who the kid is, and the fact that Spider-Man is still a small unknown (presumably adult) hero who isn't on any Avengers radars, they all collectively come to the conclusion that he's Tony's illegitimate child.

Bruce: They do have the same eyes...

Steve: This is an inappropriate conversation to have. If Tony doesn't want to tell us then we shouldn't pry

Natasha: Tony doesn't even like kids. There's no way he would tolerate one if it wasn't because of his guilt complex. I'm surprised there isn't more little Starks running around considering his previous lifestyle

Clint: *cough* drunk slut *cough*. Oh excuse my throat, I meant to say he was a drunk slut

Natasha: Steve they're the exact same. Talk too much, too fast, genius brains that go right over our heads, stubborn, like to cope with humor, same body language. They'll have the same smile lines when Peter grows into them. The only difference is that Peter was raised with manners

Steve: I'm not saying I don't agree, I'm saying it's none of our business. Anyone with basic observational skills can tell they're desperate to fill father and son roles in each others' lives, but Tony's really weird about it, so we should let him keep it private

Clint: We probably make him nervous

Bruce: Because he thinks he's a bad dad?

Natasha: I think he's kinda good at it. Which is extremely unnerving

Steve: Honestly out of all of us I had bets on Bruce having a secret wife and kids hidden somewhere. Tony stepping up to be a father was lower on my list than Nat

Natasha: You have a list?

Bruce: You think I pull?

Steve: That's irrelevant. I think it's nice that they're so close already, but we don't need to press. It might mess up a good thing

Clint: Wait can we go back to this list business. Are these like pragmatic, military leader lists, or are these for pleasure? What other kinds of lists do you have? What about which one of us is most likely to turn on you. Or what you'd turn for. Oh! What about a list of all our weak points based on accessibility and intensity, with contingency plans in case of defection or aliens or brainwashing or alien brainwashing causing defection

Steve:

Natasha:

Bruce:

Steve: This is why Tony won't share his personal life with us.

They last another week before Clint, Natasha, and Bruce team up to steal a strand of Peter's hair and test it for paternity. Steve knows something is up, and follows Clint to Bruce's lab.

Steve: What are you doing...

Natasha: Admit it, you know exactly what we're doing and you want to see the results

Steve: I... well if you already have them there's no point keeping it from me

Clint: Tony Stark is not the daddy!

Tony: Which of my exes have you been talking to?

Clint: AH oh hey Tony didn't see you there

Steve: I'm not apart of this

Tony: Is this about Peter? He told me something plucked his head when he was walking down here. Which of you murder twins was hiding in the rafters

Natasha: Y'know he's not your kid, whoever told you he was lied to you and I hope you get your child support back

Tony: My kid? He's my intern. What funky kool-aid have you all been drinking, that boy is sorting my tool drawer right now. He has slightly better dexterity than Dum-E, it's been quite helpful

Bruce: You have really poor professional boundaries if he's just an intern

Tony: Okay fine. He's actually Spider-Man. I didn't wanna tell anyone cause the Accords were still fishy, but everything should be good now. Anyways, he really wants to train with you guys so you'd have to know eventually

Clint: Who the hell is Spider-Man?

Steve: That guy in Queens who helps bring in peoples' groceries?

Tony: Well, yeah—listen, he's like 14 and he just got his powers. I'm not exactly sending him to fight armed terrorists yet. He'll grow into it, but trust me, there's potential. I'm kind of like his mentor

Steve: You really don't need to do that

Bruce: Yeah we'll all help out from now on

Natasha: Don't take too much responsibility for the boy

Clint: Oh god what have you been teaching him?

Tony: Thanks for the vote of confidence guys. Whatever, now that you all know he'll be hounding you all day for advice anyways. Good luck with that. Friday tell Pete to come down here, the Avengers are gonna train with him

Tony leaves them all, snickering to himself as loud footsteps come crashing down the hallway. If they didn't know any better they'd say several elephants were tripping down the stairs. Then, the doors burst open, Peter's mouth already running a mile-a-minute.

Peter: Really, you guys know, you guys will teach me? Can I use the shield, Ms. Romanoff can you show me how to kick, show me with Mr. Barton, or, or Mr. Rogers. I can take down someone bigger than me, I'm actually really strong. Wanna see? Why are we in Bruce's lab, is that my first lesson! Can I touch this? What are you making here, how long has this been distilling, what about my webs, have you ever seen my webs? I did them myself, but I bet we could make them even better, watch out it's really sticky—

Steve ends up with webs all over his face, several of Bruce's beakers broken from the white spray, one reacting poorly with it and exploding all over Clint and Natasha. Bruce immediately shoves them into the decontamination shower, leaving them as two drenched rats wearing skin-tight combat gear. Natasha is already fuming at the thought of trying to peel it off.

Peter: I'm really sorry, I didn't know it was on ricochet... the splitter webs were just 'cause I panicked

Steve: This is why I told you all to leave it be.

"Noted," they all say in unison.

[entitled-fangirl]

Words.

Cregan Stark x Targaryen wife!reader

Summary: Cregan's wife took her dragon over the Wall without his knowledge. He's PISSED.

Warnings: intimidation, fear, a couple having awful communication skills, cursing

A/n: a short little thing I found in my drafts from like a week or two ago!

Masterlist

..........................................

Even from far away, it was easy to see the anger that Cregan held in his shoulders.

He stomped his way to her, almost in a run. 

It was scary. 

Finally, he stopped himself a mere meter from her and glared. "I've heard something rather concerning, wife."

She tilted her head, feigning innocence. "Like what?"

At her lie, his eyes narrowed and his lips pulled into a thin line. "See, I've heard rumors that a certain Stark had ventured over the Wall with her dragon." He ran his tongue over his teeth. "And… the problem is… I can only think of one Stark that has a dragon."

Her stomach dropped. Indeed, she had done just that days ago.

Cregan was spending his winter at the Wall. She wanted to see it. He said no.

What else was a woman to do?

She pursed her lips. "How strange."

Cregan scoffed at that, finally giving her a knowing grin that dared her to try that again. "Would you know anything about that?"

She crossed her arms. "And what if I did?"

His eyes narrowed again, just waiting for her to slip up. "What if you did? Would you lie to me?"

"N-" she hesitated. "No."

He sighed and took a large step forward to close the distance. His arms took her biceps and he pulled her close. His voice was low. "My love. Did you take your dragon over the Wall?"

Her gaze flickered between his eyes and his lips as she contemplated how honest to be. "I… I did."

His grip on her tightened just barely as he took in that information. He was unmoving for a moment before he let go completely. "Thank you for being honest with me."

"Are you angry?"

He sighed. "Do you want a lie or an answer you won't like?" She didn't respond, and Cregan knew to continue. "I'm enraged." His tone was so even. So calm.

She'd seen him angry many times before, but never like this. This was different than anything she'd seen before. "Cregan-"

"-Don't."

With the two only staring at one another, hers an unsure gaze, his an intense study, the two let the silence speak instead.

He slowly brought up a heavy hand, setting it across her cheek. His fingers shook with the rage in his body. "I'm beyond angry with you."

She nodded in understanding. She still held her chin up, for though he was angry, she never feared that he'd harm her.

"How can I tame a fucking dragon?" He spoke out, though it was more to himself. "I won't lock you away. But I can't let this stand. You disobeyed me." His fingers moved to her chin, holding her head steady. "So what should I do with you?"

At the silence, she figured perhaps that last part was directed at her finally. "I was only being curious."

He forced her head up to meet his eyes firmly. "And I told you no."

"And I didn't listen," she challenged.

A fire lit behind his eyes. Perhaps she shouldn't be feeding fuel to the fire.

"No, you didn't," he seethed. "Do you think I enjoy telling you no? That I just do it for my own enjoyment?" Her gaze moved from his, prompting him to pull her chin up again. "I asked you a question."

"No," she whispered. She was finally getting intimidated.

"No," he mocked. "No, I don't. So why did you still do it?"

"I wanted to know what we feared so badly," she admitted softly.

"You w-" It died on his lips as he forced himself to take a long breath. "And?"

"And?" She asked.

"And?" He huffed. "What did you see?"

"I…" she hesitated. "I didn't see anything. But… but Vermithor… he… he was scared." Her voice lowered and was barely heard. "I've never seen him scared before."

"And… do you even dare to think that there's something over that Wall worth fearing?" He growled.

She gave him a nod. 

Cregan's eyes finally left her and so did his hands. "I was fucking terrified for you."

That caught her attention, prompting her to now be the one to study him.

"I h-" his voice faltered. "I heard Vermithor went over the Wall and I- Fuck." He ran a hand through his hair. "Don't do that again."

"I won't," she promised.

The two's anger finally was beginning to resolve to admiration. He was terrified for her. He was a difficult man at times, but he was more caring than he'd ever admit.

"I won't," she repeated, more firmly this time.

He seemed to accept it, opening his arms in hopes that she'd accept it as well.

And she did.

The two embraced, finally relaxing against one another for the first time since he had returned from Castle Black.

"You know I love you," he whispered against her hair. "Forgive me."

"I do and I will," she whispered back.

His grip tightened, as if giving accent to his gratitude. "There's a lot of things I'll let you have if you truly want it, but anything with the Wall will never be one of them. Your safety means everything to me."

"I should have respected your word. I've learned my lesson, Cregan."

He pulled away just enough to kiss the top of her head and pull her back. "You sweet, sweet woman. My dragon. Let me make up to you for my harsh words."

She said nothing, nor moved, besides placing a kiss to his clothed chest.

He took that as an answer enough and picked up his wife, carrying her into Winterfell.

It seemed the two would be busy for a while.

.........................................

@twinkletwinklenotastar @kidd3ath @yujyujj @misswynters @cosmosnkaz @sithapprentice @kaniromi @lovemesomevesey @its-jackie-bb @thorins-queen-of-erebor @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn @callsignwidow @a1lexh-blog @alyssa-dayne @ethereal-athalia @ashovertheriver @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom @dozcan123 @wangjiangelangel @kamitargaryen @aegonswife @lv7867 @helpmedecideaname @cherryheairt @classicsimpforaaronwarner

[c0nfessions-of-a-writing-freak]

Protective Flower

Pairing: Harry Hook x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 1.4k

Summary: While making your rounds of the Isle making sure everyone still fears your name, you run into an old acquaintance. Someone oversees this and doesn't take lightly to others touching what is his.

Bingo: @eclipsingbingo with the square 'Jealousy'

*Gif does not belong to me

Boots clicking with every step, you had not a care in the world as you walked through the Isle of the Lost. Why would you? You were the daughter of Madame Gothel, the Mother Gothel. Everyone on the Isle knew of your mother's story and with that came protection, a blanket of safety that her name alone offered you.

That didn't mean you let the glare on your features fall or had your back turned on anyone for too long. With brisk steps you passed through different sections of the Isle, never staying for too long. It was only when you saw the back of someone's head whom you never thought you'd see again.

"Jay?" You slowly question, your voice hesitant in case who you thought was in front of you was an illusion or just an insanely good look-alike whom you've never seen before that day. It was only when the boy's head of long brown hair turned and a whisper of your name left his lips that you knew it was him. "What are you doing here? I thought you had gotten off this island and were at Auradon."

"Some circumstances have changed," He muttered with a coy grin, bounding his way over to you. The fast approach made you take a few small steps back, trying to put distance in between the two of you in case he decided to try something, though Jay bypassed this easily, one of his strides making up for three of yours as he wrapped his arms tightly around you. "I've missed you. We all have."

You froze immediately as you were engulfed, not expecting the embrace and hardly knowing what to call it. The feeling that arose from being trapped within Jay's arms was odd, almost comforting. That didn't matter though as you kept your arms glued to your side, not raising them to return the gesture.

"I'm sure it would've passed," You mumbled, voice gruff as you remembered what it had been like before Jay, Mal, Evie and Carlos left the Isle. How things have changed since then. Your words caused Jay to finally pull back, which you were both grateful for since the action was weak, though also longed for it to return, the simple contact something you have never experienced on the Isle evoking something within you. It must have been some trickery Auradon had taught them. "You never did say why you were here. And if you're here, I'm assuming so are the others."

"About that," Jay trailed off, hand sheepishly going to rub at the back of his neck. The action instantly had you quirking an eyebrow, never before seen such an action from the taller VK. Or former VK. "Carlos actually sent me to come and find you. We were wondering if we could use your help. Like old times-"

"What do we have here?" A taunting voice called out, cutting off the end of Jay's sentence, not that you needed to hear the rest of it to know what he was asking of you. You didn't even bat an eye to the new voice, coming well accustomed to it in the past year, more so than before Jay and his little redeemed squad had run off. "Runnin' into ya two times in a day has got ta be a good omen."

Jay's whole deemer immediately changed at not only the sight of him but also the sound. Turning an annoyed glare that held more heat than you knew Jay could still muster onto the newest arrival, Jay greeted him with a less than pleased grunt, "Hook."

Harry Hook, in all his glory, came out from the shadows he had previously lurking in so the deranged grin he was flashing could be seen by all.

"Don't sound so sad ta see me," Harry's laugh felt as if a harsh bite had sunken into you. It wasn't unwelcomed but such a stark contrast to what Jay had offered you moments ago. His eyes fell on you quickly, blue irises sucking you in as he walked closer, sealing his spot at your side as he wrapped a tight arm around your waist and pulled you flush to his side. "I was wondering when the two of yer would meet again. It was only a matter of time I suppose."

Jay's eyes locked in on the hand on your waist, Harry's fingers flexing at the sight as they curled in tighter. The sensation didn't hurt, not when you've felt it before. It was almost comforting, though in a different way to how Jay tried offering it. You weren't oblivious enough to not understand that Harry was staking his claim, however, making it known to Jay how things were running this time around.

"I didn't know the two of you had buddied up since we've been gone," Jay had to drag his eyes away from where the two of you were connected, never taking his eyes off of you as he refused to look into Harry's.

"Things have changed since you and the others were taken off the Isle," You shrugged your shoulders up as you spoke, giving it to Jay plainly. After he and the others left you were without a gang to call your own, leaving you to resort to other means of getting by. "Not all of us were whisked away to be Princesses and Princes."

"I can see that," Jay breathes out as if the words were vile on his tongue. You weren't ashamed of this. Just because you had grown closer to Harry and his crew in his and the other's absence didn't mean you were going to flip a switch now that they were back. "It was nice catching up with you. If you want to talk more, you know where to find us."

"I'll see you around Jay," You bid your farewell, surprised that Harry was able to remain as quiet as he did. Not sparing you another word, though his eyes flickered down to where Harry kept his hold on you, Jay turned away so he could make his way back to the hideout he must've come from.

"Now wasn't that a lovely chat," Harry chirped, rounding on you once Jay was out of sight. His other hand came down to your hip, resting there tightly as he slowly began to back you up. "I was just on my way to warn ya as well of Mal and her little crew's arrival. Somehow ya always beat me to it though."

"I must just be lucky at sniffing out people with pretty faces," You say, not a second later your back came in contact with the wall behind you, a small huff leaving your nose at the contact. With a cruel quirk of your lips, you bring a hand up to pass through some of his hair. "Maybe that's how I found you all those months ago."

"Cute," Harry barked out a bitter laugh, bringing his face closer to yours. Some of that bitterness seeped into his face as he looked down at you, his next words coming as a sting. "Uma doesn't want ya going near them. Who knows what they've brought from Auradon. And we all know how close ya were with them before they left."

"Good thing Uma doesn't control what I do then," You dipped your face to the side as Harry tried to trap your lips in a harsh kiss, his teeth ready to make an appearance. Instead, a kiss was left on your cheek, the pirate recoiling back once he realised. With a smirk of your own, you leaned in, trailing feather-light kisses across his neck and jaw. Your lips ghosted his skin, never staying in one spot for too long. "Though I'm sure an exception could be made if you asked nicely."

"Stay away from Jay and his friends," Harry spoke lowly, lips chasing after yours as you continued to evade him. With a raised brow, you stared at him as if you were waiting for more, leaning back so he couldn't reach you. With an eye roll from his dark eyes, an abundance of eyeliner smeared around them, he grinned out, "Please."

You waited a few moments, bringing both of your hands up to cup his face. Dragging him slowly, you brushed your lips quickly against his, muttering before finally giving him what he wanted, "I'll consider it."

[fawnhunter]

cregan stark aka mr attitude adjustment.

sometimes cregan needs to check himself, and make sure ur good too

this is part of a series which at the moment also includes benjicot blackwood. if there's anyone you'd like to see done next please let me know! general NSFW content warning, talk of impregnation.

lalala cregan stark lalala tom taylor...can i just preface this by saying he causes the ultimate brain rot. i look at him and my brain just goes " big man in pelts and amour big man in pelts and-" anyway!

to me cregan stark is the physical embodiment of non sexual dominance. i mean we all know how well the men of the north treat their women, like they are queens even if they wear the crown or not. and being with the lord of winterfell himself only makes things better. He walks into a room and he demands control and attention, and when people see you his pretty little wife hanging off his arm it only makes him feel that much more powerful.

back to the n.s.d thing, lets just says he's a natural "father" figure. i can see him falling for someone who needs some... light correcting... are u following me. finding love with someone who may be a bit mouthy. who isn't afraid to look him in the face and disagree with him, to offer a different opinion from the other daft cunts int he room. someone who will watch him train, who will watch him knock new coming knights onto the ground without flinching away.

i just think he would find excitement in someone with a little fight in them. someone he can back into a corner with his body mass alone, looking down his nose at you no matter how much to try to stand tall in front of him. staring you down into submission until you don't have a peep left in you, giving him the talking space to tell you how exactly things are going to go from here on out. [nsfw]

its hard to imagine actual angry sex with cregan, a man made of honor like that would never try and apologize with his cock before he does so with his words. however, i can imagine jealous, possessive, and passionate sex with cregan after his honor towards you has been tested. maybe someone eludes to you having an hard time producing heirs, suggesting someone else. or maybe they have the audacity to marry you off or send you away for some sort of gain for winterfell. all of a sudden there's knocking on ur chamber doors, and ur being pushed into ur room instead of opening the door properly.

from there the evening existed entirely of hot and heavy breathing accompanied by his harsh grip moving along ur skin. he touches you with purpose, like he's trying to leave some sort of trace of him on ur skin. teeth biting into ur neck, the feeling similar to that of a wolfs fangs leaving bruises on ur skin after a harsh nip. if it was up to him he would've torn ur shift away from ur body and throw it into the fire, leaving you bare before his eyes for the rest of time. his war torn hands run up along whatever parts of you he can reach. his touches are desperate in the way he pushes you into the chaise, in way too much of a hurry to move both of you to the bed it seems. fingers prepping ur sweet cunt while muttering words of owners ship and adoration into ur neck. his hair tickles ur skin as you begin to claw at the part of him you can. its clumsy and desperate, the kind of intercourse where you know there's something he's trying to get off his chest but he just doesn't have the words to say it. its when he finally sheathes himself inside of you that he tells you all about the lords who dared to speak of you to his face. heavy girth pumping in and out of you while his voice gets louder and louder, crying out ur name over the sounds of lilted moans. making sure all the lords and ladies down the hall know that you won't be going anywhere. especially away from him.

this is my first work for cregan i love him so much that wolf of a man. my ask box is always open tbh i love to yap especially abt hotd

[imthebadguyyy]

Iron Hearts

With the same fire and charm that runs in the Stark bloodline, you’ve never been one to fade into the background.

pairing : steve rogers x reader fandom : mcu synopsis : As Tony Stark’s younger sister, you’ve always shared his brilliance and bold personality. Outgoing, witty, and never afraid to speak your mind, you’re just as comfortable stealing the spotlight as your brother is. But when Tony ropes you into joining the Avengers' operations after the Chitauri invasion, the last thing you expect is to clash with Captain America, Steve Rogers—a man so different from the fast-paced world you’re used to. Steve’s stoic, old-fashioned values collide with your free-spirited nature, sparking a connection that’s as electric as it is infuriating. As the Avengers face new threats, you and Steve find yourselves drawn together in unexpected ways, each challenge bringing you closer. The world is always in need of saving—but will the Iron legacy and a shielded heart leave room for something more?

EPISODE 1 : COLLIDE

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The low hum of machinery filled your private lab, a familiar and soothing backdrop to the glow of various monitors and the holographic interface suspended above your desk. You were in your element here—surrounded by sleek gadgets, circuits, and blueprints only you understood. The soft, sterile light of the fluorescent bulbs bathed everything in a cool hue, making the outside world feel distant, almost irrelevant. Your hands moved with practiced precision, making the final tweaks to your latest invention—something sleek, cutting-edge, and powerful. It was not for public eyes, least of all Tony’s. Let him bask in the glory of his Iron Man suits and his public heroism. You preferred working in the shadows, away from the spotlight. After all, the real power came from the things people didn’t see.

Just as you were about to run another test, FRIDAY’s calm, computerized voice broke the silence. “Incoming call—Tony Stark.”

You let out a small, exasperated sigh, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Of course Tony would interrupt now, just when you were getting into the groove. Without breaking your stride, you gestured toward the nearest screen, signaling FRIDAY to patch the call through.

Tony’s face flickered to life on the screen, his usual cocky grin already plastered across his face. He looked annoyingly well-rested for someone who constantly threw himself into world-saving chaos.

“Hey, sis. Got a minute?” His tone was casual, but you could see the mischievous glint in his eyes. Tony always had an ulterior motive.

“Not for you,” you shot back, though your lips twitched with a slight smile. You’d perfected the art of giving Tony a hard time over the years. “What do you need, Tony?”

“Can’t a brother call to check on his favorite sibling?” He leaned back in his chair, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning indifference. “We both know I’m your only sibling.”

“Touché,” he admitted, chuckling softly. "But seriously, I need you."

You froze momentarily, your hand hovering over the interface. Tony rarely outright asked for help, and when he did, you knew it was big. Slowly, you leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest as you gave him your full attention.

“I need my secret weapon,” Tony added, his voice dropping to that tone he used when he really wanted something.

You blinked at him, skeptical. “Secret weapon? Tony, I’m not about to be your backup tech support.”

Tony grinned, undeterred by your resistance. "This isn’t just tech support. It’s big. New team, new mission, bigger stakes. And who better to help me keep this bunch in line than you?"

You hesitated, glancing at the half-finished prototype on your desk. For years, you’d operated under the radar, happy to let Tony soak up the limelight. Being his sister came with a certain level of scrutiny you’d avoided like the plague. You preferred the quiet. The idea of stepping into the Avengers' world—especially now—seemed chaotic at best.

“I’m not suiting up, if that’s what you’re thinking,” you finally said, narrowing your eyes at him. The last thing you needed was to get dragged into one of his world-saving escapades in some shiny new armor.

“Of course not,” Tony grinned, though there was a playful glimmer in his eyes that told you he wasn’t ruling anything out entirely. “Just come to the Tower, meet the team. If you hate it, you can go back to hiding in your lab and pretending you’re not a genius like me.”

You rolled your eyes, though the thought lingered. A new team? A new mission? Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to check it out. If things went south, you could always disappear back into the shadows. But something in Tony’s tone hinted at urgency, something serious brewing on the horizon. He wasn’t just calling for fun. He needed you.

With a resigned sigh, you pushed off from the desk. “Fine. But this better not be some ploy to get me into an Iron suit.”

Tony’s smirk widened. “No promises.”

The call ended with a flicker of the screen, and you were left standing in the soft hum of your lab, the weight of Tony’s request hanging in the air. You glanced at your half-finished prototype one last time before grabbing your jacket, muttering under your breath, “What have I gotten myself into?”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Later, at Avengers Tower, you stepped into the grand lobby, the space sprawling before you like something out of a futuristic movie. Towering glass walls reflected the sunlight, creating a dazzling effect that made the entire room shimmer. High-tech displays blinked with data and notifications, while sleek metallic accents added to the modernity. It was a world apart from your cozy lab, and you couldn’t help but marvel at how Tony had truly outdone himself with this place. The grandeur was impressive, but you felt a knot tightening in your stomach, a sense of unease settling in as you stepped further inside.

Just as you took another step, a voice sliced through the air behind you, cool and assessing. “So you’re the sister Tony doesn’t like to talk about.”

You turned to face him, your heart pounding slightly at the sight of Steve Rogers, Captain America himself. He stood there, arms crossed over his chest, his muscular frame radiating authority. His expression was carefully neutral, but there was an edge to it—a mix of skepticism and something akin to wariness. He looked you up and down, his gaze critical, and you could already sense the judgment simmering beneath the surface. He thought you were just another Stark, another piece in Tony’s ego-driven game.

“And you’re the soldier out of time,” you replied, matching his coolness with your own. The words felt sharper than you intended, a defensive instinct kicking in. “Nice to meet you.”

Steve offered a tight nod, his lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t smile. “Tony’s told me a lot about you.”

“All bad, I hope,” you shot back, a hint of a smirk dancing on your lips. But Steve’s expression remained unyielding, the weight of his gaze unwavering.

“I’m not here to judge,” he stated, but his eyes bore into you, steady and measuring, as if he were trying to peel back layers of your identity with sheer will alone. “Just here to see if you’re serious.”

“Serious?” You scoffed, your heart racing with indignation. “About what?”

“About helping, about doing what’s right. We’ve got enough egos on this team.”

Your smirk faded, replaced by a flash of frustration. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know your brother.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not Tony,” you retorted, your voice sharper than you intended. The tension between you crackled in the air, palpable and thick. You hated the feeling of being judged before someone even bothered to know you, and clearly, Steve didn’t like the idea of another Stark stepping into the fold.

For a moment, silence engulfed you, and you could almost hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears. The intensity of Steve’s gaze felt like a spotlight, and you wondered if he could see through your facade, exposing the vulnerabilities you kept hidden. You could sense his protective instincts flaring, the weight of responsibility resting on his shoulders, and somehow, you felt like an outsider even though you were family.

Just as the tension threatened to spiral further, Tony strolled into the room, an air of nonchalance enveloping him. “Hey, you two! Getting along already?” His grin was impossibly wide, brightening the atmosphere even as it made the air around you feel heavier with unresolved tension.

You shot Tony a glare that could’ve cut through steel. This was not the time for his usual bravado. Steve merely shook his head, the corners of his mouth twitching in an attempt to contain a smile. “We’ll see,” he replied, his tone light but his eyes still fixed on you, as if he were weighing the likelihood of your success in this new venture. Then, with a final, assessing glance, he turned and walked off, leaving you standing there, frustration simmering just below the surface.

“Great. This is off to a fantastic start,” you muttered under your breath, a mixture of annoyance and apprehension churning inside you. The day had barely begun, and already you could feel the weight of expectation bearing down on you. As the lobby buzzed with the energy of heroes and high-tech innovation, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were walking a tightrope, teetering between proving yourself and succumbing to the shadows that felt all too familiar.

With a deep breath, you steeled yourself, reminding yourself that you were here to help. No matter what Steve Rogers thought, you had your own strengths, your own path to carve in this world. You just had to figure out how to make them see that.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The air in the war room was thick with tension as Tony briefed you on the mission, his voice crisp and urgent. “So here’s the deal: leftover Chitauri tech has been activated by HYDRA operatives in the city. It’s supposed to be a routine clean-up mission, but we know better than to underestimate anything HYDRA gets their hands on.” His brow furrowed, the usual playful glint in his eyes replaced by a seriousness that made your stomach knot.

You listened intently, nodding as he laid out the plan. But as he insisted you tag along—even if just to observe and assess—you felt a mix of excitement and dread. You weren’t officially part of the team, yet here you were, being dragged into the chaos by your brother’s unwavering belief in your abilities.

When you arrived at the scene, the streets were already in chaos. The sounds of sirens blared, drowning out the shouts of frantic civilians being evacuated. Smoke billowed into the air, curling around toppled cars and shattered glass. You felt a chill run down your spine as you surveyed the destruction.

Amid the chaos, Steve barked orders at the rest of the team, his authoritative voice cutting through the noise like a beacon of hope. You hung back, monitoring the situation from a mobile unit that Tony had rigged up for you—a lifeline of information in a storm of uncertainty.

“Stay behind the lines!” Steve called out to you over his shoulder, his tone firm as he and Natasha led the charge into the fray.

You rolled your eyes, a mixture of annoyance and determination bubbling inside you. "I know what I’m doing, Captain," you shot back, trying to sound more confident than you felt. The last thing you wanted was to be coddled like a helpless child.

Just as the fight erupted, the atmosphere shifted. A crackling energy surged through the air, and before you could process the threat, one of the HYDRA operatives unleashed a pulse from the Chitauri device. The wave of electricity shot toward you, a blinding flash of danger that sent adrenaline coursing through your veins.

In that split second, everything shifted. Time seemed to slow as you braced for impact, your instincts screaming at you to move, to do something—anything. But before you could react, Steve surged forward like a force of nature. He slammed his shield into the ground with a resounding thud, creating a barrier that absorbed the surge of energy before it could reach you.

You stumbled back, wide-eyed, the reality of what had just happened crashing over you like a tidal wave. Steve turned to you, his expression a mixture of concern and frustration. “I said stay behind,” he said, his voice clipped, but there was a hint of protectiveness that made your heart race.

“I had it under control,” you snapped back, though deep down, you knew that wasn’t entirely true. You felt a surge of embarrassment rising within you, the remnants of the adrenaline making you defensive.

Steve didn’t argue further, but his gaze lingered on you, his eyes searching yours as if he were trying to gauge the depths of your resolve. The moment stretched out, thick with unspoken tension, and you could sense a silent acknowledgment between you—this was new territory for both of you, a fragile thread connecting your destinies.

But as quickly as it had come, the moment shattered. With a final look that communicated both concern and determination, Steve charged back into the fray, his shield raised high as he fought against the chaos. You stood there, heart racing, grappling with a whirlwind of emotions—frustration, admiration, and a flicker of fear for what lay ahead.

With a deep breath, you refocused on the task at hand. You weren’t going to let this moment define you. You had to prove to yourself, and to Steve, that you belonged here—among heroes and legends. The fight was just beginning, and you were ready to carve your place in it.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The mission concluded in a flurry of activity and relief, but the tension between you and Steve lingered in the air like an unresolved chord. Back at the Tower, you settled in front of the computer, the glow of the screen casting an almost ethereal light across your face as you replayed footage of the battle. Each frame brought back the chaos—the electricity crackling, the screams of civilians, and Steve’s shield slamming into the ground just in time to save you. The rush of adrenaline from earlier mixed with a more unsettling feeling as you examined the moment you almost lost everything.

As you scrolled through the footage, you felt a presence behind you. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Steve; the weight of his gaze felt palpable, a steady warmth that contrasted sharply with the intensity of the battle you had just fought. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, his silhouette framed by the soft light of the hallway, watching you with a quiet intensity.

“You handled yourself well out there,” he finally said, his voice low and sincere, cutting through the silence that surrounded you.

Surprised, you glanced up at him, momentarily meeting his gaze. “Thanks,” you replied, your voice a mix of pride and humility.

“But next time,” he continued, the firmness returning to his tone, “don’t make me have to save you.”

A small, teasing smile tugged at your lips, a spark of your trademark confidence flaring up in response. “Don’t worry, Captain. I won’t,” you shot back, your tone light, though beneath it was a current of seriousness.

Steve didn’t respond immediately, his expression shifting as he studied you. In his blue eyes, you caught a flicker of something deeper—perhaps a grudging respect, maybe even a hint of admiration. It made your heart flutter unexpectedly, a rush of warmth that was both thrilling and confusing. The Captain of America saw you, and for a moment, the weight of expectations from being Tony Stark's sister lifted, replaced by a connection that felt genuine.

He nodded once, a subtle acknowledgment of the moment shared between you, before turning to leave. As he walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just another fleeting exchange. You were carving out your own space in this team, proving that you were more than just Tony’s sister—you were a force to be reckoned with in your own right.

Left alone in the dim light of the lab, you turned back to the screen, but your thoughts were no longer on the footage. Instead, your mind lingered on Steve’s quiet strength, his unwavering resolve. You were beginning to understand that there was more to him than just the Captain—the man behind the shield had his own battles, his own vulnerabilities.

And you felt an undeniable pull towards him, a sense of camaraderie that was slowly transforming into something deeper. The mission had ended, but the journey was just beginning, and you were more determined than ever to prove yourself—not just to Steve, but to the entire team.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The mission had been a success, but the moment Steve saw you—Tony’s sister—standing there, he felt the weight of responsibility tugging at his heart. He knew you had potential; he’d seen you handle yourself with surprising skill, but he wasn’t prepared for how much the little spark in your eyes got under his skin.

Leaning against the doorway, he watched you replay the footage of the battle. You were focused, your brow furrowed in concentration, and it captivated him. You radiated a unique blend of confidence and determination, much like your brother, yet with a warmth that was distinctly your own.

When he finally spoke, telling you that you handled yourself well out there, he truly meant it. But as soon as the words left his mouth, he felt a mix of admiration and wariness wash over him. You were Tony’s sister—his little sister. He recalled the stories Tony had told him about your childhood, the sibling rivalry, and how fiercely protective Tony had always been of you. That instinct felt like a wall between them, even as he felt drawn to you.

“Don’t make me have to save you,” he warned, hoping to impress upon you the importance of caution. He had seen too many people underestimate their enemies, and he didn’t want you to be another victim of that recklessness.

Your response—light and teasing—pulled a small smile from him, but it was quickly overshadowed by concern. “Don’t worry, Captain. I won’t.” It was infuriating how effortlessly you seemed to deflect his concern. You had a spark that reminded him of Tony, but there was something more disarming about you. Something that made it hard for him to maintain his composure.

He nodded, more to himself than to you, before he turned to leave. He didn’t want to admit how much your presence affected him, how he found you attractive in a way that made him question everything he knew about focusing on the mission. But he also understood that getting involved with Tony’s sister could complicate things—complicate his already tangled life.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

As the days turned into weeks, you became a more permanent fixture in the Tower, and Steve couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly you blended into their chaotic team dynamic. Watching you interact with the others was eye-opening. You had Tony’s quick wit, but there was a warmth in your approach that brought out the best in everyone.

He remembered a moment during a team meeting when Clint made a joke at your expense. Without missing a beat, you shot back, “If you’re going to insult me, at least make it clever.” The room erupted in laughter, and Steve found himself chuckling along, secretly impressed by your tenacity.

But the more time he spent with you, the more he struggled with his feelings. You were intelligent, fiercely capable, and incredibly brave—qualities he admired. Yet every time he looked at you, he felt the ghost of Tony’s protective nature hovering over them. He could practically hear Tony warning him to keep his distance, reminding him that you were off-limits. It was a mental tug-of-war, and every glance between them only heightened his awareness of how close they were getting.

One evening, you both worked late in the lab. He caught you watching him as he threw punches at a training dummy, a curious smile dancing on your lips. It was a moment of connection, but it also made his heart race in a way that both thrilled and terrified him. He knew you were trouble, yet there was something about you that drew him in, like a moth to a flame.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

a/n : so this is new series im experimenting with!! not proofread. any comments tips suggestions you have would be highly appreciated. happy reading!!

TAGS

all writing - @roslastyles420 @hopefulinlove@bluesongbird-blog

marvel -

to be added to the taglist send me an ask or a dm specifying which fandom 🩷

[ervotica]

liam mairi x reader where he literally loses it during the torture chamber over seeing her hurt

pairing; liam mairi x fem!reader

warnings; torture lol, graphic depictions of violence and injury, liam is a little unhinged (as much as a golden retriever can be) and also the best bf ever. also xaddy makes an appearance <3

a/n; for argument's sake, liam is alive and well (also for my sake bc he's my baby and i adore him) this is a little different to the plot in the books as liam isn't *technically* there during the torture chamber scene, so this diverts from the original plot. this is gonna get like 4 whole notes but idgaf because liam is taking up my entire mind atm i just want that boy to smother me in love and i can kiss his perfect face<3

Knuckles crack against the already swollen expanse of your jaw and your neck whips sideways awkwardly as blood fills your gasping mouth. Your ears ring, vision beginning to blur and blacken at the edges as Liam roars.

You can't see him for the soldiers crowding your line of vision, but the guttural sound that rips its way from his throat is unlike anything you've ever heard before. It's raw, full of untethered fury that no one would expect from a kind soul like Liam. But, then again, no one's seen the lengths he will go to to keep you safe.

"I'm fine, Li," you murmur, neck cracking as you wrench your head upright to reassure him. The swarm of bodies part somewhat, and they back against the wall; you watch him thrash against the restraints, teeth bared like a predator; it's a stark juxtaposition to his usual - docile - countenance.

“Touch her again and I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking kill all of you!” he bellows, voice permeating the otherwise relatively silent chamber. It cuts through you like glass, and you wince as another blow collides with your cheekbone. You feel it shatter, growling through grit teeth at your attacker.

“You have all the power here,” he croons. “Tell us what we need to know, and I’ll let you go.”

“Fuck you,” you seethe. “You really think I’ll break that easily?”

He cracks his knuckles slowly, one by one echoing through the empty room as he paces, his head tilting curiously as though he's enraptured by your resilience. “No. But he will.”

Your nostrils flare, eyes darting to where Liam’s still struggling to break himself free. His eyes are dark, cerulean replaced with black onyx as the rage consumes him.

“You underestimate us,” you say simply; your chin juts out indignantly. “We’re not telling you shit.”

Your ribs are next to break with a sickening crunch, and when you scream, the sharp yell of your boyfriend takes up all the space left in your brain. It's all you hear, all you can decipher through the thick cotton wadded into your ears, the only thing you can manage past the searing flames that set your body alight with agony. Your lids start to droop, lips parting to croak something indiscernible; and Liam's begging, pleading with you to stay conscious, but even as you gaze up at him through sticky, tear-soaked lashes, the darkness wraps its cruel fingers around your throat and you can't fend it off.

You don't know how many days it's been when your eyes peel open, glued shut with sleep. Every nerve ending in your body ignites, set aflame with pure, unrelenting excruciation. Your chest heaves and the movement triggers another cataclysmic inferno; a sob claws its way from your throat almost involuntarily, your body relying purely on survival instincts.

Xaden's standing over you in an instant, a warm palm cradled against the curve of your jaw to keep you still when you shout and thrash, trying to rid yourself of the unyielding pain that courses through your veins like liquid fire.

"Shh, shh." He's doing his best to placate you, but you're manic, eyes wide and frantic as you attempt to orientate yourself in the room.

"Liam," you croak. "Where's Liam?"

"He's okay. He's fine. I need you to stay calm, okay?" A tear slips past your clogged waterline and runs over Xaden's knuckle, his thumb following its downward path to brush it away.

"I want Liam," you wheeze, a pain that transcends physicality blooming into your aching chest. "Please."

There's a scuffle and a flash of blonde before Liam is crouching at your side, a thick fingered hand anchoring against the top of your head.

"I'm right here, my girl. You didn't think I'd leave you alone, did you?"

You shake your head vehemently despite the throbbing in your temples, your own fingers looping around his wrist to keep him close, to keep him touching you.

"It hurts, Li," you whimper, and it's the first sign of true weakness he's seen you expose in this long, painful week. You're safe to fall apart now, safe with the knowledge that he'll help you put yourself back together.

"I know. We just need to get you fixed up and you'll feel better."

He tips forward on his toes to press his cheek to yours, and the warmth of his breath tickles at the shell of your ear. His face turns, nose squishing into the soft flesh of your cheek, lips puckered in a kiss against the corner of your mouth. You feel the scab, long dried over, and the groove in his lip where it's split; when he tilts his head sideways to watch you, your eyes fix on it.

"You're hurt," you sniffle. "It's my fault."

"Oh, this old thing?" He waves you off, flippant as the tip of his finger prods at the dried skin. "Doesn't even hurt, angel. Don't you worry about me."

"I do worry about you."

You use the little strength you have left to turn on your side, tuning out Liam's abrupt protests until there'e enough room for two on the bed. He knows what you want from no more than a pleading glance.

"I can't-" he starts, and the complaints die in his throat when your fingers dig into the worn fabric of his uniform.

"I need you," you admit. His shoulders slouch in defeat.

"You promise to go to sleep?"

He lifts your tender body, propping you against a muscular forearm as he slides beneath you, and settling you between two thick thighs, your back to his chest. His warmth seeps into your pores and he feels you sag, only succumbing to the exhaustion now you know he's safe.

Fingernails scratch at your scalp and dimples crater into the centre of his cheeks when your head tilts to nuzzle deeper into the touch. The flaring pain resides to a dull - but manageable - ache.

"I'm tired," you say, muffled.

"I know, my girl." You don't miss the thrum of his pulse, the way it picks up when he catches sight of the deep bruises that mar your skin, the swelling from broken bones. He's angry.

And he's going to make them pay for this.

[buckets-and-trees]

Red, White & True - Prologue

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers (future x curvy Millennial Female!Reader), Pepper Potts Word Count: 1.3k Summary: "There was an idea..." Words at the heart of what brought the Avengers together. Steve Rogers is no longer an Avenger, having retired after The Snap and passed his shield along to Sam Wilson, but Pepper Potts has a new idea to bring Steve back out of retirement - but in a totally different arena.

Content/Warnings: none

Notes: This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

PROLOGUE

[MAY 1 - Upstate New York]

“You know I’m always happy to come out to the farm,” Steve says, rinsing the last plate and handing it to the strawberry blonde woman so she can dry and put it back on the shelf. “I love to see you and Morgan. But what do you want to talk to me about, Pepper?”

Pepper gives him a tight-lipped smile. “Let’s go to the study,” she answers, and leads the way to the back of the modern but rustic home. She takes a seat on the couch and motions for Steve to sit on the other end.

“I was sitting right here when Tony stood over there,” she nods her head toward a spot in front of Steve, “and told me he figured out the science of time travel.”

Steve’s chest aches at her words. “Pepper…”

She holds up a hand to stop him. “No, don’t apologize. I told him that was amazing and terrifying. Then we sat here together and really talked. He told me he could stop, put a pin in it, that part of him wanted to bury the idea in a lock box at the bottom of the lake. But I reminded him that we were lucky not to have lost each other in the Blip and so many others weren’t.”

She pauses for a moment and looks to the mantle where there’s a small, retired arc reactor on display. Steve waits for her to continue.

“When I started working for him, I had no idea where it would all lead. I certainly didn’t have aspirations to date my boss or become the CEO of Stark Industries. Tony will always be the love of my life, and each day that goes by, each month, each year, I miss him, but the missing hurts less. What’s left is the whisper, the urge of the legacy of everything that’s still here and what I can do with it. I haven’t been idle, but I’ve been trying to ignore my own time travel issue, if you will.”

Steve can hardly hold himself back from scoffing. “The medical research, the humanitarian initiatives, the scientific advances you’re still spearheading, it’s just not really enough if you can’t solve for world peace,” he jokes.

Pepper cocks her head slightly. “The thing is, I have an idea of where I could start on that last one.”

Steve’s eyebrows knit together, and he studies her face. “Okay…” he knew his voice was conveying his curiosity but also his trepidation.

“Stark Industries helps a lot of people, but there are things I can’t help no matter how hard I try there. The world is in a bigger mess than science can help, only so much can be done with humanitarian work, and there’s an area that’s haunting me because I’ve tried to stay out of it for as long as I could, and I just don’t think I can any more, not and still sleep at night.”

“Well, then let’s talk about it. You know I’m here for you, whatever you need. I don’t know how you think I can help, but clearly you’ve got an idea.”

“I know you retired one suit, but I’d like you to think about another.”

“Pep-”

“Not that kind of suit,” she interrupts. “There are still some good, decent people in politics, but money has poisoned so much of what goes on - lobbyists, special interests, politicians needing to fundraise. But I’ve got money. I could fund a campaign.”

Steve frowns. “What exactly are you proposing?”

“I need a candidate, and there’s no one I would trust more than you. I want to finance your campaign to run for President of the United States.”

Steve's eyes widen, and he feels as if the air has been sucked out of the room. His mouth opens and closes, but he can’t think of any initial words to come out. He stands abruptly, his legs carrying him to the large window overlooking the serene lake outside. The late afternoon sun casts a golden glow across the water, creating a stark contrast to the turmoil in his mind.

"President?" he finally manages to croak out, his voice barely above a whisper. He turns back to face Pepper, his brow furrowed deeply. "Pepper, I... I don't know the first thing about running a country. I've been a soldier, an Avenger, but never a politician."

Pepper leans forward, her eyes bright with determination. "That's exactly why you'd be perfect, Steve. You're not entrenched in the political machine. You have a moral compass that's unwavering, and a desire to help those who need it, no matter what.”

“And sometimes I failed.”

“It made you wiser every time.”

Steve plants his hands on his hips and sighs. “Pep, I’m just a kid from Brooklyn who wanted to serve his country.”

Pepper leans forward, her eyes intense and earnest. "And you've done that, Steve. You've served this country in ways most people can't even imagine. Think about what you could do as President. The impact you could have, the changes you could make. You've always fought for what's right, even when it wasn't easy or popular. That's exactly what this country needs right now."

Steve turns back to the window, his mind racing. He thinks of all the battles he's fought, the sacrifices he's made. Could he really make a difference from the Oval Office? Or would the political machine chew him up and spit him out?

"What about my past?" he asks, still facing the lake. "The Accords, going rogue, all of it. It would all come out in a campaign."

He hears Pepper stand and approach him. She places a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Your past is part of what makes you the right person for this, Steve. You've shown that you're willing to stand up for what you believe in, even when it costs you everything.”

He can feel Pepper's eyes on him, waiting for a response. He takes a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts.

"I appreciate your faith in me, Pepper. I really do," he begins, still facing the lake. "But this isn't like leading a team into battle. The complexities of running a country, the constant scrutiny, the compromises you have to make... I'm not sure I'm cut out for that."

"Steve, that's exactly why you'd be perfect for this. You understand the weight of responsibility. You've made tough decisions under pressure. And most importantly, you have a clear vision of what's right and what's wrong."

Steve turns to face her, his expression conflicted.

“I won’t lie to you,” she continues, “the public scrutiny will be worse, but it’s not something you’re unfamiliar with. Just like before, you’ll have people singing your praise and people ready to crucify you just for sport. But we’ll face it head-on. You won’t do any of it alone. We’ll put together a team of friends, people we trust, experts and strategists. We’ll find people outside our camp who will challenge us to make the campaign stronger. And when we get you in the White House, no president leads alone. You have a history of seeing the value in the people around you and bringing teams together. It’ll just be fighting a different fight.”

Steve thinks over her words. “In a different suit.”

She smiles. “You’ll do it?”

“Answer one more question for me.”

Pepper nods. “Anything.”

“Why do this?”

Steve sees the conviction settle in her entire demeanor, and that shift alone convinces him the rest of the way, but her words cement his resolve down to his core.

“Tony and Natasha didn’t sacrifice just to leave something broken behind. It’s time to help put things back together and try to leave a legacy of something better.”

go to chapter one: MANHATTAN & BROOKLYN

This is an idea that sparked in during the huge sleepover I hosted in July 2023, and it's been tantalizing me for a long time, but now the muse is finally ready to play with it! gee, I wonder why...

I can't wait to bring you along for the ride! This story will have 3-4 chapters, depending on where I split up the narrative. I anticipate about a chapter a week.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[kquil]

POLY MARAUDERS | HEROES IN TATTOOS PRT.6

06 : SELFISH DESIRES

SUM : it's your chance to make amends and push aside your selfish desires - your heart will ache but they're worth it 

TAGS. : modern au ; muggle au ; tattoo artist james potter ; piercer remus lupin ; angst ; idiots in love ; unexpected turn of events ; sirius is the main character here ; jk jk ; it's you~ hehe~ ; you'll see what i mean ; wolfstar have a heated argument ; i almost cried writing it ; i hate seeing them like that ; poor james ; james needs a hug ; regulus makes an appearance! ; dramatic sirius black ; regulus is a good brother ; sirius being an instigator ; we love him for it though ; you can't just leave them again! ; no fluff here kiddos ; but kiddos stay away! ; just cover your innocent eyes! 

LENGTH : 3.7k

← PREV. : 05 | DRUNK AND CIGARETTE SMOKE

“You’re disgusting,” Sirius manages an indifferent glance over at his younger brother before resuming his miserable, unmoving position on the sofa — Regulus’ sofa. The obvious detachment Sirius has to the situation only stirs his younger brother’s bubbling anger, “It’s almost been a full month! And you’re letting yourself rot away on my sofa; get a hold of yourself!” No response. Regulus shakes his head with a drawn out sigh, “you usually don’t stay around this long whenever there’s an argument… I wonder what’s happened this time…”

Deeming his older brother completely hopeless, Regulus returns to his sparse but sleek kitchen just as the kettle whistles its readiness to be poured for tea.   

Sirius breaths an audible sigh and grimaces at the stench of his breath. The mix of excessive alcohol, countless cigarettes and mountains of junk food didn’t make for a good concoction on his tongue, definitely not for fresh breath. When was the last time he had brushed his teeth? He brings a hand up to push straggling strands of hair away from his view but grumbles when the curls had knotted up too much for him to comb his hair back uninterrupted. Stone grey eyes look down at his figure, stagnant and pale, weighed heavy from low spirits. 

What followed the night you left their flat was the worst fight they have ever had. It was mainly between him and Remus while James remained in the background, too downhearted to contribute anything to the verbal warfare happening before him. He was spoiled with love since birth. As an only child with loving parents, who never fought in front of him, whenever Sirius and Remus argued, James was left paralysed with despair. It was always shocking to him how nasty those fights became; his parents never fought like that. Sirius could see it in his sweet hazel eyes that James wanted desperately to have peace but didn’t know how to steer things in that direction. He had tried before, many times, to defuse the situation but both Sirius and Remus were too stubborn and hot-headed from the argument as well as their suddenly stark differences in opinion to back down. 

As unfortunate as it is to think about, these fights happened often, recurring in the same exact way – originating from opposing opinions, primarily between him and Remus. They would try to keep it together but it would just keep piling up until someone snaps and then there’s no dispelling their disputes. James either takes a side or none at all (usually the later) and Sirius storms out of the flat to stay with Regulus. 

He should feel guilty for being such a burden to his younger brother. He should have more pride in himself than to allow Regulus to ever see him in such a depressed and unpleasant state. Lack of hygiene, self care and self maintenance manifests into something so repulsive and unsightly, Sirius would usually be back and making amends within a week or two – encouraged by his own lack of cleanliness and his commitment to run from the disease of laziness. 

But it’s been more than that now. Nearly a month, Regulus says. Time just passes by, slow and tolerant, so unlike him, and yet, Sirius still managed to lose complete track of it. This is the longest they’ve ever had a dispute without reconciling.  

His own stubbornness is definitely a factor. He had been right all along. If only they, mostly Remus, had listened to him. James was fully on board but Remus was stubbornly defiant and managed to convince the former otherwise. 

“Do you think she’s the type of person who would embrace such an unconventional relationship with open arms?!”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Moony,” Sirius grits his teeth, his inner thoughts and reasoning ached to be heard and let out coherently. In his mind, it all made sense to do things the way he suggests, so why couldn’t his boyfriend understand him?! It doesn’t even seem like he’s trying to listen to him at this point! “She won’t understand if we don’t say anything to her! We have to be forward and bold! Do it now before something happens!”

“Nothing. Is. Going. To. Happen!”

“How can you be so sure? We need to be honest with her, it’s not fair to her and it’s, frankly, deceitful to keep her in the dark about all this!”

“We can’t be too sure that she’ll accept us. If that happens then we’ll never see her again– I don’t want that, do you?!” 

“We won’t know unless we say something, do something, anything!”

“Please just trust me, Siri,” Remus begs, his loud voice lowering to a soft plea, his beautiful brown eyes no longer fierce or piercing but kind and warm again, with a hint of fear. Sirius can sympathise with that creeping terror, an anxiety that wants to swallow you whole and keep you in a dark abyss for eternity, “I don’t want to frighten her…”

The first time, Sirius gave in, weak for his love and weak for the reasoning behind his proposal on the matter concerning you. The dark-haired tattooist couldn’t fault his lover for that but, in hindsight, he should have argued his side more, maybe then, you wouldn’t have disappeared like that…

“Hey, your phone won’t stop pinging,” Regulus alerts, appearing out of thin air and surprising Sirius enough to sit up and alert with wide eyes, “will you finally read their messages to you?” with some reluctance, Sirius reaches for his phone and proceeds to look through his messages while Regulus takes a seat opposite him, a steaming cup of tea in hand.

The younger Black brother was just about to begin reading another one of his classic novel favourites when a rush of air flew by him, ruffling the small strands of hair and whipping about the billowing steam from his mug of tea. Moments later, the sound of his shower turning on full blast echos through his flat and a smile graces his lips. 

“It’s about time…”

Lingering guilt had plagued you all night long and you barely managed to get a wink of sleep. It, however, meant that you were able to better prepare lunch for the boys the following day. While cooking, you abandon all negative feelings to focus on only the good, not wanting any harmful emotions to diffuse into the food and saturate it with bad tastes. Your eyebags weren’t a pretty sight but it was easily fixable with a touch of makeup. 

You tried to look your best for the day. Fortunately, the early summer sun inspired your motivations further. Yes, you’ve made the terrible mistake of selfishly pushing them away to nurse your own battered soul and unrequited feelings, but this was your time to make amends, to make things right… to see Sirius again. 

You never felt right after you accused him of cheating on Remus and James with each other, only to find out that he was far more loving and loyal than that. You were embarrassed and ashamed to have ever thought so negatively about him, jumping to conclusions like an immature, thoughtless child. It was wonderful seeing James and Remus again, your heart was practically soaring in your chest as it disregarded all lingering feelings of misery and dejection. But now, your chest felt incredibly tight as your heart ached to catch a simple glimpse of Sirius.  

You carefully pack away the lovingly prepared food and desserts into your largest, most durable shopping bag before getting dressed. It was only natural that you managed to make more than you usually made for the boys, seeing as you wanted to spoil them rotten after being so childish the last few weeks. Since the weather was pleasant, you opted for a cute mini dress with a light, flowy material that was comfortable and soft. Over top, you wore a cropped cardigan that had long sleeves, enough to reach past your fingertips. For jewellery, you wore a simple necklace and slipped into a strappy pair of mid-heeled platforms that weren’t too tall. Casual but cute. 

Approaching the studio doors, your grip on the strap of your bag tightens and your breath hitches. They hadn’t taken the notice down and the bold, red letters of their ‘CLOSED’ sign glared at you angrily. 

Were they inside? Should you knock? Neither Remus or James actually agreed to your sudden choice to meet for lunch the night before. Did this mean that they didn’t want you to be in their lives anymore?... But… but you wanted to make things right! You wanted to apologise! You want to be friends with them again! You’ll tell them right away – tell them how you would do anything just to remain by their side, even if it’s just as a friend, you’ll be happy for them! You won’t be selfish anymore, you won’t covet anything more than friendship with them, that’s all you want! Not that they’ve ever heard of your true desires—

“Well?” A familiar voice speaks up behind you, putting an abrupt end to your panicked inner monologue, “Aren’t you going to knock?” 

Swiftly spinning in place, you smile brightly at the biker and tattooist standing before you, dressed in all black, with heavy, lace-up boots and his signature leather jacket, “Sirius!” 

He doesn’t breathe a word to you, eyeing your hefty bag before briefly meeting your eyes and making his way over. His long strides made it so that he reached you in no time but he didn’t stop. With a light gasp, he had backed you up into the left of their studio’s double-door front entrance. You held your breath and kept your eyes shut tight, not knowing what to do as your heart pounded deafeningly against your eardrums. 

A moment passes and you feel his hand brush against yours before your portly bag of packed food is taken from you. A wave of relief washed over your aching shoulder as the weight disappeared but such a diminutive alleviation of discomfort couldn’t swamp the trepidation in your heart. Sirius was different. 

“Siri–”

“Let’s head inside,” he had opened the right hand door and easily slipped through with your bag. Alone and in the quiet, you felt like crying. You wanted to cry, desperately but you knew that it would offer little to no reassurance. So, with a heavy heart, you followed Sirius inside and closed the studio door behind you. 

The air was stale but, in it, lingered a familiar scent that you had come to love, it was a clean, almost clinical smell from the regular use of disinfectant and bleach. You love this parlour so much, it was filled with so many good memories, ones of soft affection through tender words and gentle caresses. Despite the earlier interaction, you couldn’t help but smile just from the wave of romantic sentiment washing over you. 

“You’re here,” Remus greets with a tired smile as James sits on the opposite end of the sofa with a shy grin directed towards you, his hazel eyes looking elsewhere.

“Sorry if I’m late,” you managed a weak smile, “I didn’t know if the door was open or not. Thankfully, Sirius was there to help me in,” Sirius didn’t sit down despite the many available seating spaces and chose to lean his back against a far wall, instead. James couldn’t meet your eyes and Remus was sneakily massaging his temple as he leaned his face against his large hand, “let’s eat, shall we? I hope you guys are hungry,”  

It was never this awkward. Or quiet. Especially when sharing your homemade lunch together. James would usually be giving you endless praise through large, mid-chewed mouthfuls while Sirius laughed at the ridiculous sounds and faces he’d pull trying to speak coherently through the mouthful of food, and Remus would shake his head, his amusement by the display evident in the warm glimmer of his eyes. However, James doesn’t have as big of an appetite today and Sirius stands alone with his tupperware, barely touching his food. Remus is the only one eating a substantial amount besides you. Although, you’ve gradually slowed your own chewing. 

What have you done?... 

What happened to all of you?

Your shame brought your gaze down, making your head weigh heavier than usual as you give up on communicating anything with the boys. This wasn’t how it was meant to go…what should you do now? The pain in your heart was unbearable. 

Shoulders slumped and confidence dried up, you struggled to think of what to do. You should have prepared a speech or something. It was naive of you to think that simply coming over with a homemade lunch would fix anything. Things are never going to be the same, no matter how much you hope and pray for them to be. 

You’re hopeless… completely and utterly hopeless…

This was your worst fear come to life. You had feared rejection but seeing them unloving towards each other, barely communicating and broken apart, your stomach collapsed in on itself as your heart fell to a million pieces. You didn’t utter a single word of loving them romantically aloud and yet, you still managed to get in between their relationship. This was a sentiment of how selfish of a person you are. 

How could you do this to them?! They were your friends, who saved you from the worst night of your life, and you repay them like this?! Shameful. Disgusting. You don’t think you could ever look at yourself in the mirror again.  

The skirt of your mini dress blurs on your lap and you have to bite your lip to keep from sobbing out loud. The tears, however, you couldn’t stop them. Hopefully, they’re all too distracted to see you silently weeping and you can gather yourself before turning tail and running out of there. 

Today is a complete disaster—

“Don’t cry, angel, please!” James jumps up and rushes to your side, kneeling down at your feet as he takes your hands in his and tries to meet your gaze through the puddle of tears in your eyes. His words immediately catch Remus and Sirius’ attention and they both begin to make their way over, evident worry swimming in their eyes but you refuse to acknowledge any of that as your mind drowns in all manner of negative thought.  

You shake your head, hearing the flurry of footfalls around you and wishing them away silently, “I shouldn’t have come here today…” you whisper. 

“What was that?” James patiently asks, voice soft and sweet and kind, it makes you want to fall into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” you speak clearer and stand abruptly, “enjoy the lunch,” the haste and sorrow in your shaking voice makes their heart drop and they’re brought back to that fateful night once more. You don’t meet their eyes as you turn and push past them to leave, almost running through the hallway of their studio just to reach the door and make a quick escape. 

“THIS!” Sirius’ roaring voice suddenly cuts through the studio like a knife, making you stop in your tracks and turn around slowly. The door to the lounge room was still open, before it Sirius and Remus stood in an aggressive confrontation, both taking on a defensive stance as they faced each other, all while James remained in the background, clutching at his head as he slumped forward on the sofa, “THIS IS WHAT I MEANT! IF YOU HAD JUST LISTENED TO ME–” 

“I DIDN’T SAY WHAT I SAID WITHOUT REASON SIRIUS! YOU KNOW MY EXACT THOUGHTS ABOUT ALL THIS!” Remus shouts back, the veins in his neck bulging out from his fierce anger, the blood rushing in his cheeks making him look just about ready to violently explode. 

“BUT–”

“—YOU CAN’T FAULT ME FOR THAT!” Remus continues, not allowing Sirius to speak.   

“WELL YOU CAN’T FAULT ME FOR MY REASONING EITHER!”

You’re horrified at the scene. Sirius and Remus look ready to tear each other apart as James looks on hopelessly, not knowing what to do or how to diffuse the situation, completely torn between supporting one or the other. Without thinking, you rush back and skid to a stop between the two hot-blooded men. Their fuming rage was like a turbulent inferno whose flames licked viciously at your skin, ready to burn you and spread the hostility. 

“The both of you need to calm down!” you shout, pushing them away from each other and creating a safe distance between. Your tears had already run dry, replaced by the trembling terror shaking your limbs. 

“Don’t worry about us Dove,” Remus manages to voice through gritted teeth, his glowering eyes never leaving Sirius’, “you can leave and we’ll sort this out,”

“Sort this out like usual huh?—”

“—Don’t taunt me, Sirius,”

“That won’t solve anything, you idiot!” Sirius flings his arms up and James just barely manages to pull you away from being accidentally hit. Neither of the two seem to notice and James expresses his apology in lovingly nuzzling your temple, his lips puckering to kiss your skin but refraining and stepping away abruptly. You try not to feel the heartache his actions elicit in you.

“SHUT UP!” you’ve never heard Remus sound so angry and venomous before, it makes your heart stutter in fear and worry. You can’t leave now; this disagreement can’t end well without some form of intervention and James isn’t fairing too well with that – he needs someone there for him too, just to feel, somewhat, grounded through all of this, “She doesn’t have to hear all of this!”

“We wouldn’t have to be saying ‘all of this’ if you had. Just. LISTENED. TO. ME!”

“You’re being ridiculous!”

“Ridiculous?!” Sirius growls lowly, his countenance scrunching up into a foul expression —an antithesis to his elegant features, “I’ll show you!” it was then that Sirius turns to face you and approaches with purpose in his long strides, unstopping like he did earlier when outside the studio. 

“SIRIUS—!”

Sirius backs you up into the wall behind you, “—Everything Could Have Been As Easy As Doing This!” you didn’t know what to prepare yourself for but Sirius firmly gripping your chin and pulling you into a deep kiss was not one of them. In your shock, you let out a surprised but muffled moan, slowly falling into the blissful embrace and reciprocating eagerly. 

Did you faint earlier? Was this all a dream?... 

…Dream or not, you like this very much!  

James and Remus watch at the bold display, disbelief shining clear in their eyes as Sirius has his way with you. But you don’t see them, you don’t see anyone or anything, all you know is that Sirius kisses like an experienced lover from fantasy and he wasn’t shy about loving you up. Not knowing what to do with your hands, you let Sirius guide them over your head to cuff your wrists together with his large hand, his other snaking around your waist to pull you closer and deepen the kiss. 

He tastes like spearmint gum and smokey cigarette smoke, his lips tinted in cherry lip balm for sweetness. What an addictive taste. You can’t get enough. 

But air is a necessity and just as you were beginning to run out of breath, Sirius pulls away, panting heavily. He doesn’t wait for a single second to pass before diving his head into your neck, where he peppers feathery but fervid kisses along your sensitive skin and smiles to himself when you slip out a moan. You sound beautiful. He needs to hear more. Sirius doesn’t stop, he sucks and licks and kisses and nuzzles along your neck like the tease he is, drawing out every quivering whimper and pretty moan you were desperately trying to contain. 

You keep your eyes tightly shut, too embarrassed to meet the eyes of Remus or James. Their gaze on you left behind a searing, phantom mark that developed into a displeasing itch. An itch that could only be satisfied if they kissed you too.

…So selfish. God! When will you stop?!

Ashamed of your gradually increasing volume, you seal your mouth shut in a stubborn attempt to suppress your pleasure. How did his lips and tongue feel so good on your skin? His touch made your knees weak and your legs shake, without his support, you don’t think you would stay standing for long. 

Just as you were able to swallow every embarrassing sound that tried to escape, James was beside you, his warm breath on your cheek as he silently urged Sirius to give way, “you need help staying quiet, angel?” he whispers and doesn’t wait for an answer, briefly meeting your eyes before he’s closing them to kiss you sweetly. It started off sweet. Sweet and loving like James before suddenly becoming very dominating and overwhelming. You were being devoured and the thought was undeniably arousing. They were both on you, Sirius kissing away at your neck as James savoured the taste of your lips before bullying his way into your awaiting mouth. He swallowed your moans for you as Sirius defiantly persisted, urging you with seductive lips to make more.  

Overwhelmed but so content. 

You were drowning in bliss and you never wanted to break away from it. 

“DIDN’T I SAY!” Remus shouts, stopping all activity and leaving you strung up high as the boys slowly pull away, not too far but enough for all of you to meet Remus’ unreadable stare. The boys look over their shoulder to observe their commanding lover, their large frames tense before moving their eyes down and slowly smirking, the tension evaporating off their figures as you’re left to rebuild another tower of anxiety from your lower stomach, “Didn’t. I. Say. We. Were. Going. To. Savour. Her?”

What?

Your shocked, wide-eyed stare meets Remus’ cool and, almost, unfeeling gaze. Once again, your knees buckled under you and you were caught by Sirius and James. Held in place by their hot, firm hands and the press of their toned physiques. 

What did he just say?

Unable to keep his stare, your eyes slowly fall down the tall brunette’s figure. Capturing his beautiful, full lips; taking in the delicious column on his neck; observing the wide expanse of his shoulders and chest; drifting down to gulp at his veiny arms and hands before landing on... 

Oh~

A/N : no fluff, but something better right? a little sneak peak on how i write spicy things but it's readable hehe~  

NEXT. | 07 : APOLOGISE AND COMFORT →

NAVI. | HEROES IN TATTOOS MASTERLIST

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[breezeflows]

The Long Road (Stanford Pines x Reader)

Chapter 4

Y’ALL THIS ONE WAS/IS A ROUGH ONE. I had a lot of writers block with this chapter, but I think I finally accomplished fitting in everything I wanted it to have! Also just for clarification, a lot of things that happened in this chapter will be discussed more thoroughly in future chapters! (Aka Ford’s perspective.) Thank you everyone so much for your patience and continued support!! With that, here is absolutely gut wrenching chapter 4!!

Also, last thing I promise, if you want to be added to the tag list, just comment!

Themes: Lying, Arguments, Strong language, Lotsss of bottled up emotions, Fiddleford gets traumatized by the portal, Ford over prioritizing Bill and his work over sleep/his wife etc, all the fun stuff! This chapter is very sad! But we will finally be back to the present in chapter 5!

You found yourself waking in the late afternoon, your bags now packed and in hand as you make your way out of Lizzy’s apartment. And although you were a nervous wreck to return home and confront Ford about last night’s events, you were also happy at the thought you’d be sleeping in your own bed tonight. You were hopeful that Ford would have a good explanation. Maybe he was drunk out of his mind, due to your absence, or maybe Fiddleford brought the two of them there after a breakthrough in their research. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

You keep your thoughts running as you settle into the passenger seat of Lizzy’s car. Your mind is a flurry of hope, worry, and anxiety as you mull over all the different possibilities of what happened last night.

Lizzy hops into the driver’s seat, her gaze flickering over to you as she senses your nerves.

“Hey,” she says softly. “Everything will be okay, alright? I’m sure Ford has a good explanation for everything. At least, he better.”

You let out a nervous sigh, once again fiddling with your wedding band as you try to steady yourself. 

“I hope so,” you murmur, eyes drifting out the window as Lizzy kicks the vehicle in motion. “I really don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t.”

Lizzy places a sympathetic hand on your shoulder, giving it  a squeeze.

“Let’s just focus on getting there for now, okay? Try not to imagine any worst-case scenarios until we actually talk to him.”

You give a small nod as she drives, the world outside becoming a blur of trees and late afternoon sun.

6:00 PM.

With a final turn down the gravel path, you arrive at the place you consider home, the cabin. The familiarity of your surroundings should be relieving, yet you find yourself on edge, tugging down on the beanie that rested against your head.

You unclip your seatbelt as the car hauls to a stop, Lizzy turning to give you a reassuring smile.

“I’ll drive around closeby.” she says. “In case things go, you know, not so great.”

You nod softly, thanking her as you grab your bags from the backseat, stepping out of the car. The gravel under your feet crunches with each step, your heart beating rapidly in your chest.

Taking a deep breath, you make your way to the front door of your home, a nervous hand twisting the knob and pushing it open. As you step foot into the familiar space, you’re surprised to find Ford in the living room. He’s seated on the couch, working on what seemed to be some sort of gadget on the coffee table.

He looks up as you enter, his expression casual with a hint of excitement.

“You’re back!” He states as he stands, approaching you with a warm smile.

You swallow hard, clutching your bags tightly as you regard him warily.

“I missed you, how was your trip? There’s so much I have to tell you, Fiddleford and I had a major breakthrough this weekend!”

Ford’s words are light and pleasant, and he looks genuinely happy to see you. A stark difference from how he was the night before. He steps closer to you, looking as if he’s about to pull you into an embrace, but you take a step back, releasing your bags from your grip.

Ford’s smile falters for a brief moment, a flicker of confusion in his eyes.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, his voice laced with concern.

“Where were you last night?”

He seems taken aback by your blunt question, a brow raised as he rubs the back of his neck.

“Ah… well I was here, working with Fiddleford, like I said.” he replies, gesturing to the gadget on the table. “Why do you ask?”

Your heart twists in your chest as you clench your fists, frown adorning your lips.

“Is that all..?”

Ford looks perplexed by your question, his eyes filled with concern as he takes a step towards you, his expression growing increasingly more confused and worried.

“What do you mean? Where else would I have been?”

You go to speak, but falter, looking down at the floor as you hold your elbow sheepishly.

“Nevermind.. It’s nothing, sorry.”

Ford pauses, his concern only deepening as he watches you avoid his gaze. He takes another step closer, his voice gentle.

“Y/N, please tell me what’s wrong,” he says, reaching out to touch your arm.

“You’ve been acting strange ever since you came through the door… Did something happen? You can talk to me.”

You swallow hard, before looking up to meet his gaze.

Ford’s expression is genuine, his grip on you squeezing gently as you gaze at him for a moment. This Ford was a huge contrast to whoever you had talked to last night, this was the man you knew and adored. Maybe you and Lizzy really did have too much to drink, and you mixed it all up with some other guy? It seemed too coincidental, but the way Ford was acting now made you second guess everything. He seemed totally unphased, and there wasn’t a single thing about his tone that would lead you to believe he was lying. This was still your husband, after all.

You shovel all of your thoughts and suspicions down as you sigh, placing a hand over the one he had rested on your arm.

“It’s nothing, I promise,” you say, cracking a soft smile as you lean into him. “I just missed you a lot. It’s good to be home.”

Ford’s eyes soften at your words, and he pulls you closer to him, gently enveloping you in his arms. He holds you close, one hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“I missed you too,” he murmurs, his voice soft and gentle. “More than you know.”

Your ears and cheeks turn red at his words as he pulls away, just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he speaks.

“So, you uh, need help with your bags?”

A soft blush covers Ford’s cheeks as you smile once more, your hand reaching to cup his cheek, thumb grazing the skin underneath.

“Sure, although I wanna hear everything you wanted to catch me up on while I unpack.”

If somehow possible, Ford’s cheeks turn an even darker shade of pink as you touch his face, his gaze flicking down to your hand before coming back up to meet your eyes. He then clears his throat, voice slightly strained.

“Y-yeah of course,” he stammers, his hand coming up to rub the back of his head. “We can talk in the bedroom while you unpack.”

“Sounds like a plan.” you say with a chuckle, grabbing both of your bags and handing one to Ford, placing a quick peck to his cheek before pulling away.

A small, boyish smile appears on his lips at your gesture. He quickly takes the bag you handed him, keeping his eyes on you for a moment before looking down at your luggage in his hands.

He clears his throat once more, his voice betraying a hint of nervousness as he speaks.

“Right, let’s go then.”

Ford then begins to lead the way to the bedroom, you trailing along behind him.

As you both enter your shared room you begin to unpack your bags, Ford chatting away excitedly as he helps you with your things, pulling out your clean clothes and placing them in the closet. 

You smile at his enthusiasm, but you can’t help but notice the bed as you unpack. The sheets are just how you left them, pillows fluffed and blankets tucked into the edges of the frame.

“Did you get any sleep while I was gone?” you ask, shutting a drawer after you’ve placed a pair of jeans inside.

Ford pauses mid-sentence in his excited explanation, faltering as his glaze flicks from the bed to yours.

“Uh, well… no, I didn’t,” he admits, his voice laced with a hint of guilt. “With all the work Fiddleford and I’ve been doing, I guess I just forgot about sleep.”

You frown deeply as he moves to continue helping you unpack, your arms falling to your sides.

“Ford..”

Ford pauses again, a flicker of guilt in his eyes as he senses your disapproving tone.

“Just promise me that you’ll at least come to bed tonight. Okay? I worry about you when you aren’t getting any rest.”

His expression softens, gaze full of guilt and affection meeting yours. He nods in agreement, a sheepish smile crossing his face.

“I promise.”

Over the following nights, Ford makes a point of coming to bed, holding true to the word he gave you the night you returned from Lizzys. However, the pattern you had desperately hoped for doesn’t last long. The old habits return quickly, Ford abandoning the bedroom in favor of work in the lab for days on end. Days soon turn into weeks, weeks into months, and so on. You find yourself lying alone in bed each night, your mind filled with anger and frustration. Sometimes, you’re kept awake by the bright flashes and rumbling from below. A part of you wanted to stomp down there and give him a piece of your mind, to leave him and this broken marriage behind, but another part of you yearned for Ford. You longed for the day you’d see him emerge from the lab instead of Fiddleford, or the day he’d prioritize you again. Even just a simple acknowledgement of your presence, other than “hello, how are you”, would do. You missed how things used to be. You missed him.

But the day never came.

You were too stubborn to be the first to break the now built-up tension, after all it was Ford’s fault the two of you were in this predicament anyway. At least that’s what you told yourself, feeding into the false hope that things were going to somehow magically improve. 

The same cycle repeated itself, leaving you feeling helpless and abandoned.

Until one night.

You found yourself lying alone in bed yet again, your head laid on what was once Ford’s pillow, his scent no longer attached to the fabric. The sounds of the lab seem louder tonight as you toss and turn, grunting in annoyance. You glance towards the clock on your nightstand, the glowing numbers reading midnight. Frustration mounts within you, the lack of any attention whatsoever from Ford wearing you down.

Suddenly, an extremely loud whir from the lab forces you to sit upright, your heart pounding in your chest as your irritation gets the best of you. Finally, you’d had enough.

You throw back the covers in an aggressive motion, swinging your legs over the bed. You pad across the room, your bare feet touching the cold hardwood floor. Each step you take fuels the growing anger in you, your patience thinning.

Reaching the door, you pull on it, the sound of it creaking open adding to the building tension. With a huff, you step forward into the darkness and descend the stairway leading to the lab.

You press the button to the elevator harshly, stepping inside the metal contraption. As you descend further you hear the sound of faint yelling, along with a thud. Your stomach twists with frustration and anxiety, your mind reeling with possibilities of what the hell was going on down there.

Finally, the elevator doors slide open, revealing a blinding blue light behind the glass window of the lab. Your feet carry you quickly to the source, dashing through the entryway when all of a sudden, your shoulders are grabbed.

Your body stiffens as your eyes adjust to the lighting, revealing a disheveled Fiddleford in front of you. His fearful eyes search your panicked ones, his grip painfully tight.

“Fiddleford-”

“You’ve got to get out of here Y/N,” he states frantically, his voice shaky. “This machine will bring about the end of the world, it’s dangerous beyond comprehension. It should never see the light of day.”

The sound of your heartbeat fills your ears as you process his words. The seriousness in his voice and panicked look in his eyes were enough to send a chill down your spine. You take a moment, before stuttering out a few words.

“What? Machine? The end of the world..?”

Before you can finish your sentence, Fiddleford leaves in a rush, your frightened gaze moving to the source of the light.

In front of you stood what seemed to be some sort of portal, with your husband standing right below it.

You watch him as you stand there, dumbstruck by fear and confusion. You clench your fists before taking a firm step forward, swallowing dryly.

“Ford..?”

He stands with his back turned to you, mumbling something before yelling aloud.

“No, you know what… I don’t need anyone!”

Your legs tremble as you make your way towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Ford jumps violently at the contact, his head whipping around to face you. His gaze widening for a moment, before turning cold and harsh.

“What..? What are you doing down here Y/N?” He snaps, his tone sharp and defensive.

Your gut clenches at his tone, your eyes brimming with tears as you finally break.

“What the actual fuck, Stanford!” You yell, hands formed into fists as you hold them in front of you.

“What is this?! This.. this thing?!” You yell, pointing towards the portal. 

“This is too fucking far!!”

Ford’s eyes narrow, his irritation growing apparent. He stands his ground, stepping towards you and jabbing a finger towards your chest.

“This?” he replies, gesturing to the portal. “This is my life’s work Y/N! Everything I’ve dedicated myself towards for decades! Something you wouldn’t even understand the significance of, even if I explained it to you!”

His words cut through you like a knife, tears now streaming warmly down your cheeks. You grab hold of his wrist roughly, jerking him towards you.

“No!” you yell, your grip unrelenting. 

“This is some sort of doomsday device you abandoned EVERYTHING for! That you abandoned ME for!”

Your voice breaks with that last sentence, your teeth clenching as you attempt to stifle your pain.

“I’ve stuck with you through everything, Stanford! When you lost Stanley, during those horrible years in college, through this!” You say, pointing to him and then to yourself with your free hand. “When you’ve practically neglected me as your wife, all of it! I stayed with you because I’m in love with you, Stanford!”

Ford’s eyes soften at your words, a strong flicker of guilt in his expression as you list all the sacrifices you’ve made for him.

“But I can’t,” your voice trembles with each word, your grip on his wrist loosening to where it falls back to your side. 

“Y/N…”

Every emotion you’ve bottled up until now weighs down on you, your heart racing in your chest.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Your tearful gaze meets his, his heart aching at the sight.

Ford looks as if he’s been torn in two. Flashes of guilt, anger, and concern, all etching across his face as he stands there, desperately searching for the right answer. And although you never in a million years would intend for him to be put in this spot, he knows he has to choose. The person who devoted their everything to him, or everything he’s ever devoted himself to.

Ford stutters out his answer faster than he can think, sweat beading against his forehead.

“This isn’t,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, his expression heavily conflicted. “This is something monumental Y/N, something that could change the course of existence itself. I have to do this,” as Ford continues, you feel your heart snapping in two, your gaze lowering to the floor as you attempt to take in what he is saying.

“I have to finish what I started, Y/N.”

Your vision blurs with heavy tears as the two of you stand there in deafening silence. 

Your expression is filled with pure distraught as you lift your head, your gaze meeting Ford’s. Although he doesn’t return it, his eyes glued to the ground with a solemn frown on his lips. Your lip trembles as you lower your head once more, standing there for a few moments before forcing yourself to turn away.

“Okay.”

Your legs feel heavy with each step, every part of you screaming at you to stay. But deep down you know you can’t, it was time for you to choose yourself for once.

So with that you trudge on, out of the lab and out of the cabin.

The cabin you once considered home.

Thank you for reading! I hope y’all like how this turned out :)

Tag list: @karmaisacatluzi @therottenheartofscum @catr4dora @slay-thou-pookie @wow-life-love4 @missgurlsstuff @violetvsworld @inquiit @mandossillyriduur @mokikow @phirbat

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Christmas with you - Part 1

A/N: Happy Holidays everybody! Hope everyone’s bundled up and safe. A special shoutout to @ccbsrmsf1 for helping me throughout this story, her ideas inspired me to writing this. Thank you 💛

Pairing: Tony Stark x Single Mom! Reader

Warning: Fluff. Tony is adorable 🥹

Find Part 2 here

Tony Stark Masterlist

.

“Shit!”

Punching the bonnet of your car out of frustration, you huffed, watching your breath form a misty, tiny cloud of condensation before dissipating into the cold, night air.

“Shit.”

Your eyes went wide as you heard a quiet repetition of your cuss word followed by a giggle from inside your car.

“We don’t say that word, Noah. Only Mommy is allowed to say it.”

Your three year old made a face that made you smile despite you trying your hardest not to. He had a tendency to do that, make you smile, laugh and giggle at your lowest. He truly was the light of your life.

And right now, he was your only company considering you were officially stranded in the middle of nowhere with an old car that had finally given up. Your phone had run out of juice hours ago, thanks to your attempts at keeping a three year old entertained on a very long drive back home.

Now you had no way of calling for help. Lucky for you, the walk would take twenty minutes, but the down side? It was snowing. A lot.

Getting back in your car, you faced your son and explained him the situation as best as you could.

“We walk home, Mommy?”

“We have to, honey. We can come back for the car tomorrow. Come on, let’s get you bundled up.”

Zipping his jacket up, you secured it in place, putting on his little gloves and beanie as well. Luckily you had his stroller in the car, which took some convincing to get him into it but soon you were off, trudging through snow while pushing the stroller.

Noah hummed to himself the entire way back, making you laugh as he belted out rhyme after nursery rhyme.

Suddenly out of the blue you heard a crash sound as something heavy and metallic landed to your right. Figuring it was someone rather than some thing, you were contemplating going out there and offering help until your three year old began kicking his feet and screaming.

“It’s Iron Man! Mommy, look! It’s Iron Man!”

He was right.

Tony Stark or more famously, Iron Man had just crash landed about a hundred feet from you.

Lifting the face plate, Tony groaned, his body still in shock from impact. That is until he heard a tiny voice screaming his name, diverting his attention temporarily.

“Hi Iron Man!” Noah exclaimed, not bothered about the fact that he had caught his favourite superhero in a less than ideal situation.

With small bruises and cuts all over his face, Tony turned around to see Noah, managing a small wave back until he saw you. Pausing to take you in, he momentarily forgot where he was.

You were beautiful.

The kind of beauty that he wasn’t used to, not the skimpy-clothed, giggly women that usually clung to him in social situations. No. You seemed different.

“Huh?” He blinked, realising he had spent an unnatural amount of time staring at you, and that you had said something.

“I asked if you were alright, Mr. Stark.”

Clearing his throat awkwardly, he looked back to where his suit lay, now completely decimated, he would need a power source to boot it back to life.

“Yeah, uh. I’m—I’ve had a fall. And my suit is well, pretty much useless.” Following it with a small laugh, he shrugged, shifting his gaze from you down to where Noah sat, starry-eyed and open-mouthed having come face to face with his idol.

“This is my son, Noah. And I’m Y/N.” You offering him a small smile.

“Tony.” He knelt down to greet your son, shaking his little hand like a gentleman after yours.

“Very firm handshake, young man.” He winked at him, leaving him more starstruck than before.

“I’d offer to help but our car broke down and we’re walking home, so…pretty much a bad day for all of us, huh?” You chuckled.

“Can he come home, Mommy? I can help with his suit!” Noah piped, looking up at you with expectant eyes, knowing fully well you could never deny him.

“Our house is still pretty far out, baby. But it’s upto Mr. Stark, I mean, I have tools that could help? I don’t know. But you could definitely use some first aid and some warmth?”

As if on cue, Tony shivered, the long-sleeved shirt he wore doing nothing to prevent the cold from seeping in. He was also bleeding from a few cuts and bruises, that pushed him further to accept your offer.

“And hot chocolate!”

“Ah, how could I ever refuse hot chocolate? With marshmallows?”

“Yeah!!”

Both of you chuckled as your son clapped his hands, happy now that his hero was accompanying you home.

Dragging his disabled suit through the snow was a task, but he trudged on, not minding the company for a change. Normally, he’d have been flocked with fans or security but here, nobody seemed to care. Not that there were too many passersby but those that were around, couldn’t care less about who he was.

The conversation flowed easily as you walked home, from formal introductions to your profession, from likes, dislikes to your opinion on world politics. You couldn’t help but notice how easy he was to talk to, and that your first impression of the man had been wrong. Of course, the media had a lot to do with it. Portraying him as a spoilt billionaire at first, then the brash Avenger with a playboy image.

Noah’s singing provided as background music until his voice gradually stopped, meaning he was out cold. A day out with his grandparents had finally worn him out even though he’d just met his idol.

As your house came in sight, you retrieved your keys from your purse, while Tony looked around, frowning when he saw the lights all out.

Did you live alone? Tony kicked some snow with his foot, making an assumption you were already taken but secretly hoping you weren’t.

“Wouldn’t your husband or partner mind if you suddenly show up with an Avenger?” He asked, glancing back at the tracks you’d left along with the ones made due to his suit. One could assume someone had dragged a body along the way.

“Hmm, that’s a good question.”

You continued unlocking the door, your back to the man who was peeking in the stroller to make sure your son hadn’t woken up, partly to distract himself.

“I’m sure if I had one, he wouldn’t mind seeing the great Tony Stark in his house. But I don’t so, I guess you’ll have to do with me and my starstruck three year old.”

Tony’s nervous chuckle held relief as you welcomed him inside your humble space, grateful for the instant warmth your cosy home provided.

Tony took in your smartly done interiors and evident display of a house with a small kid, accidentally knocking over a piece of Noah’s toy in the process.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark! Are you alright?”

He picked up Noah’s toy robot, giving it a curious but impressed glance.

“Oh yeah, no harm done. And it’s Tony, please.”

His fingers brushed yours lightly as he passed you the toy, the touch sparking excitement within you. He cleared his throat in attempts to get both your gazes off of your hands.

“Alright Tony, let me get you a first-aid kit and then maybe you can tell me what you need to fix your suit?”

“Right. Sure, thanks.” Giving himself a mental shake, he perched on your sofa and settled.

Right as he leaned back against the plush fabric, a loud noise startled him. Picking out the source, it was yet another toy, an airplane this time which was lit up and buzzing.

“That is not my favourite.”

Noah was awake. And staring at him with wide eyes, still awestruck. Tony found the off switch before placing the toy on the table.

“Oh yeah? Which one is your favourite then?” He asked, watching your son retrieve his beloved toy robot and hand it to him.

“This one!”

“You know I had the exact same one when I was little? Now I just have the suits. I guess they’re the same.” He mumbled, more to himself than to Noah.

You walked in on them having a conversation about how robots are the coolest toys on the planet, a smile appearing on your face at the sight.

Tending to Tony’s topical wounds wasn’t the easiest, especially since it confirmed how truly handsome he was up close, plus your son’s gaze kept shifting between the two of you, going on about showing Tony all his toys.

“Thank you, Y/N. Are all the people in this town so kind?” He chuckled, fingers fumbling with the edges of his shirt to keep them from reaching out and tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

“They are. But given the fact that you’re you, I doubt any of them would have problems helping you out.” You hummed, stepping away after finishing tending to his last bruise, with a small smile that seemed perpetual on your face.

.

He insisted on using your garage for fixing his suit instead of your house, making himself familiar with your basic household tools in the small but efficient little space.

In the meantime, you bathed Noah, negotiating with him since he wanted to run to see what Tony was fixing and how.

“I help Iron Man, Mama!” He said in his best pleading voice.

“It’s way past your bedtime, little man.”

He seemed too busy plotting something that would convince you, his deep brown eyes lighting up as he came up with something that he knew you’d agree to.

“But Mama…hot chocolate?”

“Noah..”

“You promised!” He whined, on the verge of a tantrum. Naturally, you caved.

As you two made your way towards the garage, you could hear Tony mumbling, to himself, you hoped. Like a nervous habit, his leg tapped against the floor as he worked, eyes solely focused on the job at hand before your little knock broke him out of it.

“Got you some hot chocolate.” You announced with a smile, holding out a steaming mug for Tony, topped with little marshmallows.

Noah had already wriggled out of your grip towards the suit which lay against a table, his eyes wide in wonder as he examined the machinery.

“Be careful, Noah.”

“Actually kid, why don’t you hold onto this and press that button over there when I tell you?” Tony handed him a small device, instantly lighting your kid’s face up in delight as he nodded.

You watched as Tony tinkered around for a bit, giving Noah a thumbs up to press said button which booted his suit back to life.

“Mama, did you see that?!” He exclaimed, looking at you as if to make sure you hadn’t missed out on anything.

Watching his ecstatic face made your heart swell as you reached over to kiss the top of his head. It was better than candy-land for him.

As you drank your hot chocolate, your son managed to convince Tony Stark into fixing one of his toys for him which he agreed to, asking him questions about it which Noah was more than happy to answer.

Time went by and Noah grew drowsy, retreating to your lap & making himself comfortable while Tony tended to his suit again.

“So if you’re—”

“How did this—”

Letting out a chuckle, you gestured for Tony to go ahead with his question as you looked down to find your son fast asleep against your shoulder.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I was just going to ask if you’re raising him on your own or…”

Tony didn’t mean to pry, but he couldn’t help but wonder. There wasn’t any obvious evidence that you were married, or that you were raising a child with someone.

“Oh! I adopted Noah three years ago. I was volunteering at a centre at the time and I read he was abandoned by his parents, it broke my heart. I couldn’t get him out of my mind and I ended up filling a form. It felt right.” You murmured with a fond smile on your face as you glanced at his sleeping form.

Tony stared at you in wonder. You couldn’t have been more than…thirty? Maybe lesser? But somehow you had raised a bright little boy and made a decent living for yourself. He admired you.

“Wow, that’s truly something, Y/N. This guy is lucky to have such an amazing mother. Truly.”

Tony’s sincere compliment warmed your cheeks; shaking your head, you excused yourself to tuck your child in bed, while Tony followed you back to the house grabbing the empty mugs for you.

In the kitchen, you whispered Tony to place the mugs in the dishwasher since the sink was already full. It seemed like the guy hadn’t ever been to a kitchen before, he seemed unfamiliar with how it worked, it was kinda funny to watch him clueless with household gadgets.

“Why don’t you hold Noah while I do it? Here.”

“What? No, uh. I’m not sure—”

You already had passed Noah to him before he could process it fully. He hugged him close like Noah was made of precious glass, looking as awkward as ever.

As you placed the cups away, you glanced at Tony, grinning to yourself when Noah stirred a little only to snuggle against the man. The sight made your heart skip a beat.

You’d take him back but Noah’s little arms tightened around Tony’s neck, as if he didn’t want to let him go. Wordlessly, you pointed upstairs where his bedroom was and Tony followed you quietly, worried any sudden movements would wake him up.

Tony’s heart warmed as your kid’s evened out and calm breaths contrasted against his own erratic ones, it was oddly grounding for him.

He placed Noah on his little bed as carefully as he could, looking at you as if waiting for further instructions. Taking over, you made sure Noah was comfortable before tucking Snuggles - his beloved stuffed rabbit under his arm and secured his blanket.

“Sleep well, my love.”

You kissed his forehead a couple of times before standing back up, unaware of Tony watching the whole scene with the fondest smile.

“Let me get you a blanket, Mr. St—Tony. I’ll be right back.”

Tony stopped you right as you were about to turn, placing an hand on your shoulder before you could leave.

“I’m not going to stay, I—I don’t sleep. I mean, I’ve already bothered you too much, it would better if I left. The suit is all ready and I’ve called for a car. And I have trouble sleeping.”

He finished speaking with a heavy sigh, scratching the back of his head as you processed and slowly nodded your head, unable to hide the tinge of disappointment you felt.

“Of course. Um. Let me walk you out then.”

The car he’d hired stood outside your house, steely grey against the blanket of snow that covered the ground. The steps you took slowed down as you reached, the silence between you growing.

“Thank you for the best hot chocolate, Y/N. And for everything, really.” Tony offered his hand, glancing down at the warmth of yours against his colder one.

“You’re welcome, Tony. Happy holidays?”

“Yeah. I don’t know about that.” Tony murmured mostly to himself, still clasping your hand in his.

“I’ll see you around?”

The hope in his voice was unmistakable, he did want to see you, and soon. His overworked brain was already thinking of ways to make it happen. He would figure it out. He needed to see you again.

“Sure. Take care, Iron Man.” You smiled, shifting your weight from one to another.

“You too.”

He drove off with a final glance at you and your house, leaving behind a trail of smoke and a memory you’d revisit often in the future.

Do you think Tony will return? If yes, how?

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Lord Husband (Chapter 8)

cregan x reader

A/N: omg another update so soon? who would've thought i could do it

series masterlist

word count: 1,832 words

You’ve never looked so beautiful in your life. You know that to be a fact as you stare at your reflection in the looking glass. You made all the handmaidens leave as soon as you were readied, wanting to spend your last few moments as an unmarried woman in solitude. Now, you aren’t sure if the solitude is something you can even appreciate. You’ve waited all day for your mother to arrive, thinking she would want to spare some comforting words but now you’re starting to wonder if you’ll even see her before you become Cregan’s… before you’re no longer her’s. It’s disheartening to think about how desperately you wish that you could revert back to your childhood. It’s almost all you can think about, swimming in the sea with Jace and Luke, playing dolls with Baela and Rhaena, resting your head in your mother’s lap as he fingers run through your hair, Daemon’s voice whispering a story about Valyrian dragonlords in the background. They’re such fond memories but you hate it when they fill your head because you’ll never feel that way again.

“You’re a vision.” You didn’t hear him come in. You didn’t even hear him knock. Did he knock?

“Thank you, kepa.” father. Sometimes it feels strange to call him that. Especially when you know you used to call Laenor the same thing.

Daemon walks over to you. “You will do well here.” He says as his hand grasps your chin gently but he is still forcing you to look in his eyes.

“Will I?” You ask just as gently as he touches. “Is that how you felt about Runestone? Is this what you wanted for me?” His grip tightens.

“My clever girl.” He says thoughtfully. “Clever enough to know it’s different. This marriage is necessary.”

“At least it isn’t one of your daughters being sold to the North, right?”

“You are my daughter. You also know that Baela and Rhaena help your brothers through marriage.” It’s left unsaid but it’s in the air. 

Baela and Rhaena make my bastard brothers look more legitimate. 

“And I suppose I don’t need such help?”

He sighs. Of course you don’t, is what he’s thinking. You have a claim to nothing. You inherit nothing. You’re just a girl.

“Can you believe me when I say that Cregan Stark is the best match for you? Your mother and I didn’t have you betrothed on a whim. We would not be so careless about your future.”

Your mother said nearly the same thing and you think you could open your mouth to agree with him but Rhaenyra arrives at the door. 

“Mother.” You hate how you breathe out the word in relief.

There’s tears in her eyes. “My perfect girl.”

You notice the dripping ruby earrings in her hands.

“For me?”

“Of course. They were your grandmother’s.” She comments as she walks over, taking your own earrings out gently before putting in the rubies. They’re more simple than what you have on but clearly the better choice. “She wore them on her wedding day.”

“Did you wear them on your’s?”

“No… I didn’t.” The fact seems to hurt her. “She would be happy to know that you’re wearing them.”

“Thank you.” Is all you can seem to say. Even Daemon senses the tension in the dynamic.

“They’ll be ready for us soon. You ought to make way so you don’t miss the ceremony, Rhae.” Your stepfather says and your mother seems to agree.

She grabs your hands, giving them a fleeting kiss before she’s out the door.

You think you dissociate for the next ten minutes. Actually, you know you do because there can’t be another explanation for how you’ve come to be at the edge of the Godswood. Your breath freezes up in front of you. It’s snowing; you wonder if that’s a good thing. Brides often dread rain on their wedding days. Should you dread the snow? You can’t imagine doing such a thing when it’s this beautiful. The little flakes drape themselves on your eyelashes, across your hair. They melt into your warm cheeks. You wonder if it makes you look prettier because as your eyes follow their way up the aisle to Cregan, you think they make him look prettier. He’s shrouded in a fur cloak. Tiny snowflakes decorate it and his hair. He’s the embodiment of a northernman. 

You’re clinging to Daemon as you’re brought up the aisle, clutching his arm like he’s a piece of driftwood that might save you from drowning. Perhaps it’s more like a child clinging to her mother’s skirts, about to be ripped away by slavers. There’s so many unfamiliar faces in the audience, so many people who will be your subjects in a sense. You’re cold as you reach the front, almost shivering.

“Who comes before the Old Gods this night?” You don’t recognize the man who stands at the front. He must be some sort of relative to your betrothed.

Daemon speaks for you, saying your name, “of House Velaryon, comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?” You wish at the very least that you could say the words yourself but of course, that would be silly to think.

“Cregan, of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell. Who gives her?” His voice is firm and steady. You know he’s looking right in your eyes as you look over his shoulder to avoid eye-contact.

“Daemon, of House Targaryen, husband to her mother.”

“Princess, will you take this man?” The officiator speaks again.

Now you look in Cregan’s eyes. You can see the pleading in them. It’s so hidden and almost overshadowed by his clear pride but it’s there, no matter how much he doesn’t want it to be. You don’t know if he pleads for you to not embarrass him or if he pleads for you to want him. It’s of no consequence. 

“I take this man.” Now is it relief in his eyes or pity?

He takes your smaller and much colder hand in his, sending a flush of warmth through you before you both kneel in front of the heart tree. Everything is silent for the prayers that are meant to be between you and the Old Gods. You suppose you should say something to the gods that you now claim but you can’t think of a single thing.

You and your husband rise now and he removes your Velaryon cloak to place one of House Stark over your shoulders. He cringes at the way you practically wince. You already miss the loss of colour. He then takes your arm, people clap and you’re led to the feast.

“You’re colder than ice.” He murmurs, taking your freezing hands in his to try and warm them.

This is the first thing he says to you?

“Is the snow a bad omen?” It’s the only thing you can think about right now. You can’t get the idea of it out of your head.

He didn’t seem to think you were going to say that. “I would not have thought that you cared much for northern omens.”

You’re just silent in response.

“It’s good luck.” He says. The answer doesn’t necessarily please you. “You look wonderful today, wife.”

Wife.

“I don’t think i’ve seen a woman so beautiful in my whole life.” You gaze up at him as he says it and he’s just staring straight ahead. It’s like he’s stating just pure facts and not an opinion.

“You look… very nice as well.” You reply, hating how his comment made you blush.

He takes you to the main table in the hall, holding out your chair for you like a proper gentleman. All the other guests file in. You’re more than glad that you don’t have to talk to them until after the feast. Though, you’re not sure if you’ll be able to down a single bite, finding more comfort in your wine goblet instead.

The Queen stands and raises her glass. “To Lord Stark and his beautiful wife, my lovely daughter.” All the northerners cheer. You notice how well your brothers and stepfather seem to enjoy the rowdy bunch. You, on the other hand, are trying to keep the bile down.

Cregan places a hand on your upper back, rubbing gently. “Perhaps some food to go with your drink?” His eyes have no judgement in them, only worry. He noticed right away that you’re eating like a mouse.

“If I want food, then i’ll eat.” You snap at him slightly and he just sighs. The wine is starting to go to your head more and more. 

“I know. I know you can take care of yourself. I just take my duty as your husband seriously.” You hate the tenderness behind his words. It’s hard to be cruel to a man so kind. So, you say nothing.

The feast comes to a natural end and clearly people want to dance and celebrate so you don’t protest when Cregan takes your hand.

You feel like a fairy, floating on air as you dance. Your head is empty and your body is light as your husband lifts and twirls you. You look so peaceful to him at the moment, calm and angelic. He wonders if he should have been more firm about discontinuing your wine consumption but he’s also so pleased about how content you look.

You dance the whole evening away, exhausting yourself as you take the hand of almost every man who asks. You don’t even feel real. It’s like you’re above the clouds when you move.

It’s Daemon who halts the fun. After you dance with him, he brings you back to the table. “Are you trying to drink yourself into the ground, sweetling?”

“Yes.” You say bluntly.

“Hmm.” He sighs. He understands why you behave this way. “Understandable, but I won’t see you with another goblet for the rest of the night.”

You have to hold in your eye roll but you still obey.

You slowly start to sober up over the next hour and it’s sickening. Your melancholy seems to grow as the alcohol leaves your system and your heart drops when someone calls for the bedding. You hope it’s nothing like a southern bedding ceremony even if you doubt that your mother would allow such a barbaric tradition to befall her daughter.

Cregan makes his way through the crowd to you. He speaks once he is by your side, “There is this tradition in the North, as a symbol of protection and strength, the groom will often carry his bride to bed on their wedding night. Will you allow me to carry you?”

“I would not deprive you of tradition.” You try to keep your words from slurring.

Everyone is watching as your husband takes you in his arms. There’s no goodbyes as you’re whisked away for your wedding night.

taglists (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi @ravenclawprincess33

Lord husband: @feyres-fireheart @possiblyafangirl @hb8301 @marihoneywk @youn-jo @velvet-spider @janelongxox @ninastyless @nyctophilic0vitnir @m-a-s-h-k-a @delicious-xx @weepingfashionwritingplaid @happinessinthebeing @betelrus @joliettes @black-swan-blog27 @mxtokko @valeridarkness @karolalolla @satan-s-ass @synindoodles @a-beaverhausen @petertingle3000 @lunnnix @hermaeusmorax @cupcakesminicakescupcakes @purplegardenwhispers

[bearwithegg]

Fight Like a Girl || B.Blackwood || Part 2 ||

My thoughts have just been plagued with scenes I can write for this, i honestly intended this to be 2 parts but I ALREADY HAVE IDEAS FOR PART 3 SO FUCK IT WE BALL???

PART 1 HERE

PART 3 HERE

Kieran!Benjicot Blackwood (fancast) x f!Reader

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: Swearing??? Idiots in love but they dont know what that means

Tags <3: @spider-stark

***

War, for all that it brings with it, destruction, pain, suffering on a scale hitherto unknown remained a constant and unchanging conundrum. Were the gods so cruel as to let brother kill brother over trivial squabbles? It was a fascinating thing, to understand, to learn. You, however, decided in this current juncture it felt like a personal punishment aimed to torment and break you down. Realistically, the suffering it caused on a wider scale was insurmountable and that was something you could acknowledge. But in this instance, the way your body aches and screams from constant use makes it feel like a personal sleight.

“Your grip is weak.”

A soft groan of frustration exhales when you sigh, “I cannot hold the sword otherwise.” Dropping the sword by your side, it had been hours without respite and weeks of training for what? You still couldn’t even hold a sword properly and that frustrated you only more.

Benji laughs, softly, circling you with his head tilted to the side. You want to hit him but decide against it. After all, he didn’t need to visit your tent and assist in getting you battle ready — yet he did it either out of some sense of male honour or he secretly enjoyed overseeing your own personal agony.

“Does my ineptitude amuse you, my Lord?” You throw the sword on the ground, it landing with a thud on the canvas flooring. In the throes of frustration, you wipe the sweat from your brow and run a hand through unevenly chopped locks of hair.

“Your petulance, perhaps.” The boyish smile breaking through his hardened demeanor always caught you off guard. A gentle reminder that he was not some battle beaten man, he was young and had his innocence ripped from him; more or less like you. “You may not see it but there is improvement,” he dips down to pick the sword up, holding it out for you to take it again.

Right or not, it didn’t matter in the present. The improvement may have been so miniscule it might as well not have counted, though it was always difficult to see one's progress without the lense of the past. And with a sigh of concession, you snatch the sword from his hand and give him a goading look, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Again,” he instructs firmly, tongue protruding slightly out from between his lips — he was too good at that, switching from his natural charming disposition to a commanding authority in an instance. As if two halves of him were at odds with each other, another part of him lay dormant but the crazed look in his eyes often betrayed his steadfast composure. You weren’t sure if you liked it or feared it.

With a roll of your wrist and standing with a sturdy bearing, you take an offensive stance. His eyes wander all over you, in a completely different scenario it may have been flattering or intrusive, but there is no desire hidden away in the deep brine pools of his eyes. Under his scrutinous gaze you hold firm; at least my wrist doesn’t feel like falling off.

Improvement.

He steps to your side flank, head tilted in thought. The low hum accompanying the loud thoughts you wished he’d say out loud.

When did he get so close? You swallow nervously — he was a practical man, but often opted to show you how to do something by watching him first. Surprisingly gentle to the touch he brings a hand over yours, the one that grips the sword and adjusts your grip. Tilting your wrist slightly and nudging your thumb to a different position.

“Can you feel the difference?” He murmurs, an unexpectedly tender moment that would have floored you entirely had you not spent weeks training at his command. Even now though, you feel composure waning, creaking away like a tree that has had its trunk chopped halfway.

“Feels like… I have more control,” You utter, looking slightly over your shoulder. Oh. He was much closer than you thought.

He nods, softly adjusting your grip to keep the blade upright, though he doesn’t move his hand this time. “Your stance is good and solid. But means little if you have no strength to fortify it…” His other hand is held up so that you can see it and slowly brings it down to your hip. Not once during this small interaction does he break eye contact, it was as though he was giving you the chance to stop him if you wanted to.

You don’t, of course.

A moment of hesitation as he tentatively touches your hip before holding it and rotating you ever so slightly, “what you lack in strength, you have in speed… This stance is better for your momentum.”

“Right,” you whisper, blinking out of the daze you felt yourself fall into by the pull of his gaze. His eyes were so lovely. In moments like this they were bright with a golden hue, as if marked by the Gods. Other times they were dark, dangerous abyssal pits that you could equally get lost in. But not now.

“Good,” he smiles, the same boyish smile that makes you a little nervous and nauseous concurrently. Which was a strange feeling because you weren’t repulsed by him and yet your body reacted all the same. No one had ever elicited such strange reactions within you like he did.

“Try and disarm me.”

“What?” You feel your arm immediately drop as he steps away and unsheathes his own sword. No longer honey touched eyes boring into yours, they were void and wild. He doesn’t give you a chance to process anything before swinging his sword, you have no choice but to stumble back, practically flailing your own sword to stop from getting hurt.

Clang!

The metal blades ricochet off one another and you take the chance to scurry across the bed swiftly before he can attempt another blow, “fuck, fuck — fuck!” You hiss, standing on the other side of the tent, barely a chance to think properly before he’s back onto you like a grounded tempestuous storm.

With wide eyes you jump out of the way, his sword connects with the side table and wood splinters off into pieces. The first casualty — you’d have laughed or joked if you weren’t absolutely fearing for your life in a way. Heart pounding hard as you take a chance to counter, using a leg to disable him by going for his knees but he sees it and contorts his body just in time.

“C’mon!” He shouts, eyes wild and borderline murderous.

Unsure what possibly possessed you other than it felt right. Call it a childish rebuke or not, you instantly straighten your stance and yell back at him, a deep and guttural yell, like one would trying to fend a bear off an attack.

He licks his lips, the grin of a mad man apparent, “there she is.”

This time you swing first, kicking off the back leg gives you a good enough propulsion and wind up with the sword. Cling! He cross blocks, letting your blade slide down his own and the two of you are practically face to face, the slightest smirk pulls at his lips and you match it with a barely audible snarl.

Using your full body weight, you push into him to get distance which only just works.

Another swing from him, narrowly missing your shoulder as you jump aside, his sword clashing with one of the bed posts, it snaps under the force and limply hangs onto the unmarked wood. You take advantage of his over extension, ducking beneath his arms and opting for the best option, shouldering him in the waist and bringing him down to the ground.

Not your finest work, but he tumbles - and you with him - onto the canvas flooring, but at least you had the upper hand and though strength was not in your arsenal just yet, speed was. Pinning him to the ground, you straddle higher than the waist to keep him from bucking you off or swinging his legs around.

Both of you held your blades to each other's throat in a stalemate, chests heaving with heavy breaths.

“A fair play, my lady,” he pants quietly, though the impish grin on his face suggested otherwise. Your eyes travel down to his other hand where he had his dagger pressed softly against the leathers of your tunic, no doubt a lethal puncture in the abdomen if you were in a real fight. He lowers his blades, “you are improving — getting better at trusting your instincts.”

“You went easy on me,” you whine, tossing your blade indignantly. The semi victory loses its glory almost instantly, souring in your mouth. Standing back up seemed to be more effort today than usual, muscles shaking, screaming for a modicum of respite. But war does not rest so neither shall your body.

“If you wish for me to kill you, then you need only ask,” he jests, you knew this — he was holding out for a reason. You hadn’t seen him in battle but can very well imagine without much stretch of the imagination how he has coined the notorious namesake of ‘Bloody Ben Blackwood’. Even more it seemed, he was often harsher, stricter and more brutal when he would lead training with the younger boys.

“Don’t offer such a tempting proposal,” you laugh, tired, exhausted.

He looks at you, seriously for but a moment, “if you desire rest, it is okay to take it.” And the sweet, caring and kind Benji fronted, flecks of gold honey in his eyes as he steps forward and grabs your hand with a touch so kindly it seemed foreign. He need not force you, tugging you to the bedside and sitting you down, “you are not weak for needing rest.”

You chuckle softly, “there is no rest for someone like me, I need to be ready for when we march forward within the tenday.”

“You won’t be much use to us if your legs cannot even carry you. Rest.” He says firmly, pushing gently on your shoulder which didn’t need much for you to collapse onto the bed. “We can resume overmorrow.” He’s seated on the side of your bed now, you open your mouth to contest but he glowers immediately, tilting his head forward and setting his jaw as if to silently say ‘don’t you dare’.

So you don’t dare.

“If I was less encumbered by my exhaustion I’d have hit you for looking at me like that,” you bite, rolling onto your side and instinctively curling in on yourself.

“You certainly would have tried.” He laughs.

“And succeeded, I pinned you already today — I could do it again if I willed myself.”

“Is that so? Perhaps we should get a maester to check those ears of yours, did I not request you disarm me? I don’t recall asking you to pin me.”

“Hmmm,” you hum, narrowing your eyes at him though the barely suppressed smile betrayed your poor attempt to keep a straight face. “I stopped thinking the moment you attacked me like a brute.”

He nods along with your words and though his words are vaguely threatening, his smile indicates a hint of mischievousness, “a Brute am I? You have a crass tongue, My Lady, you’d better keep it in check.”

“Clover.”

“Hm?” His head tilts to the side, like a dog hearing a command.

“Call me Clover… Garrus finds it easier… Less likely to accidentally call attention to my identity.” You run your fingers over the furs of your bed, naturally you omit the little part of the nickname because that seemed sacred to Garrus. Only he can call you that. But Benji had your trust, and you had his, even if it be an unspoken bond that grew stronger the more time elapsed within one anothers company. He at least deserved a little part of you.

There is silence, as he sits on your words, a faint smile ghosting his lips and he nods singularly, “As you wish, Clover.” And the strangest feeling encompasses the tent, it was thick but not suffocating, warm but not a hellfire. His hand moves so deftly, you hadn’t seen it until his fingers barely grazed your temple, pushing back a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

He holds it, a moment, two moments, before his eyes blink rapidly, something reminding him of his place and he flushes red, retracting his hand quickly as though he had touched hot coals. “A-Apologies… forgive me — that was wholly inappropriate. Please do rest, I will see you overmorrow.”

It happened rather quickly, he stands and you sit up as swiftly, “Benji.” You call but he was out quicker than bat out of the hells. Your shoulders slump, a faint pout on your lips as you try to decipher what that could’ve been about. Whatever it had been, you liked it, you liked him but that could mean a plethora of things.

You sigh, falling back into the bed and staring at not particularly anything. Perhaps it would be prudent to speak on the matter with Garrus when he returned.

[entitled-fangirl]

Patience.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

SMUT

Summary: the couple drinks a brew from the Maester- it's to help them conceive.

Warnings: aphrodisiac, sex, cursing

A/n: it's a short one but I just had to write it!!

Masterlist

.......................................................

"Wait," Cregan panted against her lips as he pulled away from her.

She sat back on the bed, a confused expression evident on her face.

His arm stretched to the small wooden nightstand, retrieving two small vials from the collection he'd been given.

"I spoke to the maester a few days ago about our hopes in conceiving. He brewed this." He held it up with a hopeful smile. "Said it would make things a little easier."

"And… I'm to drink it too?" She asked in disbelief. "I dare say that we're made entirely different. I don't see how one brew can help both of us."

"Just trust the man, hm?" He mused. "Said he made it for my mother and father-"

She held her hand over the man's mouth. "I will be mortified if you keep speaking." She looked to the small vials, taking them from his open palm. She leaned back on her knees, examining the strange substance.

There was a red tint to them that worried her. She had never seen something like this.

"You really trust the maester?"

He chuckled, taking the vials from her. "With my life."

He opened one, looking down into it as his tongue ran over his top row of teeth. He brought it up to his nose, taking a long sniff. He looked to her. "Like berries."

"I'll go first then," she offered. 

She reached out to take it, but Cregan grabbed her hand with his own, bringing the vials to her lips himself. She drank it completely, coughing slightly at the strong flavor.

He laughed a bit at her reaction, running his thumb over her lip to catch a drop that had spilled. He leaned in, kissing her deeply and groaning at the remaining taste of the liquid on her tongue.

His hands wandered as they had before. His fingers pulled at her shift, the fabric now running up the skin of her thighs. 

"When do you think it'll begin?" She spoke against his lips.

He grinned. "Any moment, I hope."

She held his jaw firmly. "Of course you hope." She looked down to the other vial. "C'mon."

He rolls the vial between his fingers. "As my lady wishes." Cregan opened it but his wife took it from him. 

"It's only fair," she pointed out, her hand still firmly on his jaw, bringing the other one up to his lips. "I should get to feed it to you, hm?"

He smirked and held her hips. "Alright, pretty girl. Do so, then."

She carefully held the liquid to his lips, focusing on not spilling a single drop. 

Cregan only kept his eyes on her.

He drank it down, cringing at the potency.

She kissed him immediately, like a chaser to strong alcohol.

He groaned deeply, letting his wife have her way with him. The thick liquid moved down his throat still, leaving a fruity taste behind in his breath- a scent she wanted more of. 

He took the glass from her hand, reaching back blindly to at least get it onto the nightstand. 

Her tongue slipped past his lips, surprising the burly man.

He chuckled and pulled her away. "Love, we should at least wait a moment for it to settle." He kept a strong grip on her waist with one hand and let the other soothe her hair back, admiring his little wife.

Her pupils were wide, taking him in like prey. He felt like he was calming a beast.

"Do you feel alright?" He asked worriedly, pressing a hand to her forehead.

"I want to jump your bones, Cregan Stark."

His eyes widened. "W-What?"

"Kiss me," she all but begged. 

"Pretty gir-"

"Kiss me," she tried again.

"Calm yourself," he chuckled, caressing her cheek. "Be patient." His lips brushed against hers.

She leaned forward, but Cregan kept the distance. "Patience."

The two only stared at one another, debating who would give in first.

"Fuck patience," Cregan finally caved, yanking her into his lap into an almost bruising kiss. 

Their hands wandered, their lips kissing at any inch of skin they could. Hands ripped at clothes and she soon found herself naked under the man.

She pulled down his shoulders, trying desperately to begin what they had stopped before. A hand ran up into his hair. "Please."

He felt a shiver go down his spine, feeling his lust multiply.

...................................

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar@kidd3ath @yujyujj@misswynters@cosmosnkaz@sithapprentice@kaniromi@lovemesomevesey@its-jackie-bb@thorins-queen-of-erebor@kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn @callsignwidow @a1lexh-blog@alyssa-dayne @ethereal-athalia @ashovertheriver @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom @dozcan123 @wangjiangelangel @kamitargaryen @aegonswife @lv7867@helpmedecideaname @cherryheairt @classicsimpforaaronwarner

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

ok i was thinking about a fanfic where Spencer (probably a single dad) has a daughter (13-14) like tina belcher from bobs burgers, i just imagine they’d both be so awkward (and definitely autistic) and they’d both have glasses. But while Reid can talk lots and can get excited easily about things, she’s like the opposite, imagine her meeting the team

Spencer Reid X Autistic Daughter Reader

Request : ok i was thinking about a fanfic where Spencer (probably a single dad) has a daughter (13-14) like tina belcher from bobs burgers, i just imagine they’d both be so awkward (and definitely autistic) and they’d both have glasses. But while Reid can talk lots and can get excited easily about things, she’s like the opposite, imagine her meeting the team

Third person pov...

In the quiet suburban town of Quantico, Virginia, there lived a man named Spencer Reid. He was a brilliant criminal profiler, working for the Behavioural Analysis Unit (BAU) of the FBI.

Spencer was known for his encyclopaedic knowledge, his ability to connect the dots, and his unwavering dedication to his work.

Spencer had a daughter, Y/N, who was around 13-14 years old. She was a carbon copy of her father in many ways, with her glasses and her love for knowledge.

However, unlike her father, Y/N was a shy and introverted girl, who found it difficult to express herself. She was often compared to Tina Belcher from Bob's Burgers, as they both shared a similar awkwardness and a penchant for the unusual.

Y/N's quiet demeanour was a stark contrast to her father's animated personality. Spencer could talk for hours about his latest research or a new theory he had developed, while Y/N would prefer to spend her time reading or drawing.

Despite their differences, the two shared a deep bond, and Spencer was fiercely protective of his daughter.

It was a calm Saturday after weeks of cases the team had a couple days off, which pleased the Dr greatly, happy to spend time with his daughter,

Y/N.

The last one had been hard, a woman was going around killing young girls who reminded her of her high schools' bullies, Spencer couldn't wait to get home and see his daughter, they had called every night.

The two were currently sitting in the living room on the sofa, Spencer was reading a book, leaning against the arm of the sofa and his daughter next to him she was sketching in her sketchbook, she was exceptionally good.

Spencer smiled when his daughter showed him her drawing, he loved it when she showed him what she was drawing, her sketches are incredibly detailed. "Amazing N/N" he comments making his daughter smile and continue drawing.

In the background classical music played, neither liked a silent background so music was necessary. As they spent the quiet morning together around lunch Spencer received a call from his boss, Aaron Hotchner.

"Hotch is there a case?" he asks having stood up from the sofa.

He watched his daughter continue to draw, a smile still on his face. She was in her own world now "Hi Reid, not a case but I was hoping you could bring Y/N in" Spencer was confused.

He stands near the kitchen. "I could, be there soon" the two then end the call, Hotch had explained that there was an important case that required the team's immediate attention, and Hotch believed that Y/N's unique perspective could be valuable.

He then walked back over to his daughter, now to tell her they are leaving. "Hey N/N, want to come to my work with me?" He asks the girl.

This made the H/C girl look up from her sketchbook, E/C eyes wide. "Really" she asks, she always wanted to go to her dad work, she loves the job he does and all the caseshe solves.

Spencer was surprised. Usually Y/N doesn't like new places. "You do?"He asks the girl, Y/N grins at him. "Want to see where you work" she tells him.

Spencer laughs and pulls her in for a hug, one thing about Y/N is she loves hugs mainly the pressure from them. "Great, go get ready we need to leave soon" He tells her.

The teen then runs off to her room to get her things, once ready the father and daughter leave the apartment and make their way to the FBI headquarters.

As they entered the BAU office, Y/N was immediately overwhelmed by the bustling activity and the presence of her father's colleagues. She clung to Spencer's arm; her eyes wide behind her glasses.

Spencer helped her calm down by handing her headphones, Y/N quickly took them and put them on, the noise canceling happening immediately.

This made her feel calmer, but didn't let go of her Dad. The two find the rest of the team standing and chatting to each other about the case.

"Hey pretty boy" calls Derek, this made the rest turn to the two reids, Penelope instantly turns to the girl next to the young doctor. "Who's that with you Baby genius?" She asks waving at the teen.

Y/N looks down at the floor, avoiding the gazes of the team. "Guys this is Y/N my daughter" he explains, the team is shocked.

Derek wraps an arm around Spencer. "Pret-ty boy, how come you never told us you have a kid?" He asks.

The young Dr blushes and shrugs the arm off him. "Because you didn't ask" he grumbles, making Derek raise his hands and back away from him.

The team was initially taken aback by

Y/N's quiet demeanour, but they soon realized that her unique perspective was indeed valuable.

As they discussed the case, Y/N offered insights that the others had not considered, drawing on her vast knowledge of human behaviour and her keen observational skills.

Over time, Y/N began to open up to the team, sharing her thoughts and ideas more freely. She found a kindred spirit in Penelope Garcia.

who appreciated Y/N's love for all things geeky and her passion for learning. The two bonded over their shared interests, and Y/N began to feel more comfortable in the BAU office.

As the team worked together to solve the case, Y/N's confidence grew. She began to speak up more often, offering her insights and ideas without hesitation.

Her father watched with pride as his daughter blossomed, finding her voice in the midst of the BAU team.

In the end, the team successfully solved the case, thanks in part to Y/N's unique perspective.

As they celebrated their victory, Y/N stood alongside her father and the rest of the team, her glasses slightly askew and a smile on her face. She had found her place among the BAU team, and she knew that she would always be welcome there.

From that day forward, Y/N became a regular fixture at the BAU office, offering her insights and ideas to help solve the most challenging cases.

And though she was still quiet and introverted, she had found her voice, and she knew that she could have influence in the world.

The end!

Hope you liked this oneshot, so sorry for the wait! Sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes.

Requests are open!

Word count: 1170

[sgiddings]

hello friends and fans! (let's try that again) here's some spicy jossam headcanons before kinktober ends hehe :3

josh has some pretty intense - let's just say - fantasies. even prior to officially (finally) getting into a relationship with sam, he'd always dream, and daydream. to say a part of that didn't play into what he put sam through that night would be an outright lie. sam hiding while he searched around for her only elevated the excitement for him, getting to talk to her like that was one of his fantasies realised.

which leads into the aspect of roleplay between them, josh collects horror paraphernalia, and that of course comes with a ghostface costume. almost every horror aficionado has one and josh is not an exception to the rule. sam can work up a sweat and josh can haul her over his shoulder in one swoop, it's kind of hard for sam not to giggle when he does so since their comparison in size is such a stark difference, but just because she's tiny doesn't mean she can't throw the punches, and josh loves to see her put up a "fight".

when it comes to intimacy in general josh doesn't really have many notches under his belt, maybe one or two fumbles in the dark just to have it in the back of his mind that he's had the experience (even though he desperately wanted it to be with someone else, and we all know who that person is). intimacy with anyone else but her was difficult for him, and awkward. people never to be seen again. sam had always been under the impression it would've been plenty more despite the fact he'd never had a partner before or ever spoke of having one, and information like that would've been something that'd be mentioned in passing. they told each other almost everything, they couldn't really hide their goings-on well from one another. sam, surprisingly to josh, was the virgin between the two. she always had secretly wanted her first time to have been with him, and she was glad she'd waited it out and had rejected the advances of others.

their first time is sweet, passionate, emotional and a touch desperate. sam's scared that it's going to hurt - but josh makes sure to cater to her every beck and call, her every need. it doesn't need to be something rough and unaccommodating, he takes his time with her, and takes things at her pace, all josh ever wants is her pleasure and satisfaction, nothing else matters. he kisses her as if he'll blink and she'll vanish, he kisses her with an unspoken plead behind them - please don't leave me. i love you. there is an urgency due to how long they both have wanted this, but simultaneously they have all the time in the world for one another. tears are shed - their love runs so deep that they can't help but cry that first time.

he always makes sure that sam comes first, it's a rule that he lives by and not once has he failed, nor does he plan to. he has determination like no other.

josh is good with his hands, and knows how to tie a rope exceptionally well. shibari is an art form that has always fascinated him, so why not try it out with his girlfriend? at first sam wasn't so sure about it, there were so many knots to be made in the ropes and she wasn't too certain that rope digging into her bare flesh would be that great a time, but she was willing to hear josh out and try anything with him once - within reason, of course. in the beginning it's a little claustrophobic, but she eases into it, and the way josh calls her his little rope bunny is enough to burn her cheeks - forget the rope burn. when his voice drops an octave and he's talking to her like that, her whole body is alight.

absolutely no one is surprised when sam's sporting a new hickey, mark, bruise, whatever. josh likes to mark his territory and make it a point to show off to the world that sam is his girlfriend. sam bites back, she sure as hell can litter him with marks and josh gets off on it, whether it's him leaving marks on her or her leaving marks on him. she's equally as territorial about him, and that's the way they both like it. a mutual obsession with one another, an all consuming love.

sam has a thing about josh's hands, he catches her staring at them all the time; staring at them when he's working at something, staring at them while he's drumming his fingers against the kitchen counter. she can't help but reach for them during intimacy, without so much as a thought, kissing and sucking at his fingers with her mouth, so gently and sensually that it drives josh to insanity.

in comparison to their entire friend group, they are by far the "freakiest" couple. they don't have to know the particulars, that stays between josh and sam, but that doesn't stop the girls from hounding sam. emily tells sam that if she needs handcuffs to borrow, she's got just the set for her - to which sam flushes pink all over. handcuffs are too tame for them, but again, their friends don't need to know that. sam and josh aren't particularly open about what they do, either, but the imaginations of their friends run rampant whenever there's new hickeys and marks to be spotted.

matching halloween costumes always results in them having a bit of roleplaying fun.