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bamsywrites · 1 month ago

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And Comes Dawn pt 10

Pairings: Sauron/Halbrand x Reader, Isldur x reader.

Word count: 3k

Summary: The tension breaks.

Tags: fluff, pining, isldur being cute, reader says fuck, reader gets fucked, uhh smut, fingering, cream pie (please pull out for the love of god), sauron is a gentle Dom, dirty talk, minor like really super minor choking, confessions of love, a lot happens okay

Notes: IM NOT GOOD AT SMUT AND DONT READ MY OWN IF I CAN HELP IT, so it's not that proof read.

It had been 3 days since you saw Halbrand, now with Galadriel in prison for sedition as well. The eyes of the Numenorians were never more distrusting of you. Had it not been for your new friendship with Isildur, you would have truly despaired. Unbeknownst to you, Elendil had been defending you and your freedom to the queen. You were beyond grateful for what their family had offered you, from clothing to companionship to protection. They had treated you with a kindness you had rarely seen and it was with no ill will or hidden intentions.

“I wish to take a year off, as my father did, but his expectations of me will not allow it,” Isildur spoke to you as you walked through the city as you had done every evening.

“It seems he only wants what is best for you, though. He cares for you, and it is obvious.” Your eyes were not looking at him as you spoke. Instead, they were focused on a group of people who were dancing. You’d never seen anything like it.

“Yes, I know. I suppose I just wish he would listen,” his gaze followed yours, and he smiled, “We could join them, you know. If you’d like.”

You shook your head, “I have never danced before.”

“I can teach you. It's not that hard. My sister made me learn with her years ago.”

“I’m afraid I’d step on your feet.”

“How many times have you run into me, too distracted by some statue or art to pay attention? I assure you, my feet will be fine.” He teasingly bumped your shoulder with his.

You looked at him apprehensively. “I suppose…”

“Come then,” he grins as he pulls you to the group. One hand on your shoulder and the other on your back. He guides you to the music, and as suspected, you did step on his feet.

“Here, watch what my feet do and match yours to my movements.”

You watched his feet, but it almost made it worse. You couldn’t help but laugh and rest your head against his shoulder. “I am no good at this.”

“No, you’re right. You are quite shit at this,” He laughs with you. It's a deep and comforting laugh. It fills you with light.

“Isildur,” You look up at him, “I am a lady. How dare you speak in such a way in front of me.” You try to keep your face serious, but your smile is pulling at the corners of your lips.

“You are a foreigner whose companions have committed sedition and violence. Yet the word shit is too much for you. What about damn? Ass? Thank the valar I didn’t say fuck.” He teased you back.

“Isildur,” you scolded him, but it was not serious, your eyes twinkling with a smile.

“Have you never spoken in such a way?” He askes with a shake of his head, “Of course you haven’t,” he answered for you, “If you say fuck right here and now, I will buy you a new dress, and the hair accessories you seem to admire so.”

You gave him a look with narrowed eyes, “You jest.”

“I am completely serious. If you say fuck, first thing tomorrow morning I will take you to a shop.”

You looked at him, brows furrowed before muttering something inaudible.

“Louder, I have to be able to hear it.”

“Fuck,” you muttered softly.

“C’mon,” Isildur egged you on with a smirk, “A little louder.”

As soon as you spoke the word, an older woman approached the two of you. “How dare you! This is a respectable establishment for respectable people. Leave. Now.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Isildur was trying his hardest not to laugh. You could tell it. He led you through the crowd, and once you stood outside, he started to laugh.

Your cheeks were as red as a tomato, lips parted in surprise, “I got us kicked out.”

“You got us kicked out,” he said in between laughs. It didn’t take long until you were laughing alongside him.

He grabs your shoulders, “Please, I beg you, do not tell my father,” his hands move to your face, squeezing it gently. “He would hang me from his ship's mast if he knew.”

“Perhaps you deserve it.”

He scoffed, taking his hands away from your face. “You wound me.”

“You forced me to say fuck,” you said in a whisper.

“I didn’t force you to say it that time.”

You glared at him, “Shut up.”

“I think you would likely miss the sound of my voice.”

You were about to speak again when an all too familiar deep voice stopped you. Isildurs' expression changed, too. You figured that Halbrand hadn’t seen you. He was talking with the forge master and showing the new crest he bore. You were confused about the matter.

How did he get released from prison and then earn a guild crest?

“I need this job, please, just one sword and I will convince you.” You heard his voice for the first time in days.

“To start anew, I remember.”

“Yes, and to prove to a woman, I am serious in my intentions.”

The forgemaster smirked, “A woman?”

“A woman.”

You stood watching the interaction, almost forgetting that Isildur was there. You had told him of what had happened in the cells between him and Galadriel and then your reaction to it. He knew this had to be hard for you.

“You know,” he spoke softly, “I know you think he is in love with the elf. Or that he is torn between the two of you. But, if he was trying to win the elves' affections, he would be asking for armor to go to war and not for a job.”

“You did not see the way he looked at her, the way he talked to her.”

“But I have heard how he talks to you, how he looks at you. He looks at you as if you were one of the valar. It is rather obvious to anyone who sees.”

You wet your lips, “I do not wish to give my heart to someone who will only break it.”

“If he breaks your heart, I will destroy him,” he teases softly. “But, honestly, if he is what you want, all you have to do is take him. It is in your hands.”

You stood in silence for a moment or two. “I would like to go to my room, to think over what you have said. I did enjoy today.”

“I know, I did, too.” He smiles and squeezes your shoulder before you walk off.

Valandil grasped Isildurs shoulder, both watching you walk away. “You're a stronger man than I. I couldn't do it.”

“She is simply a friend.”

“I am almost certain that you have the names of all your children picked out. You dream of her in a wedding dress."

Isildur rolled his eyes, pushing his friend away, “Shut up. It is an honor to be her friend.” But the sadness as he watched you turn the corner told another story.

“Come, let us get drinks. I'll buy yours.”

“When did you get back?”

The door had not opened all the way before you spoke. You had spent the evening and some of the night thinking over the words that Isiludr said. What did you want? It wasn’t hard to come to the answer, but it was figuring out what Halbrand wanted that vexed you. Would you end up hurt and heartbroken?

You did not want that.

But you would never know if you didn’t try. If you sat and did nothing, he would surely move on. Isildur was correct, as well, that if it was Galadriel's affections that he sought, then he would have been asking for armor. A job sounded like he wanted to stay, to make a permanent place for himself here. For himself, and,perhaps, you. It was with that thought that you found yourself outside his door.

You regretted not waiting until the morning when you saw him, loose shirt and hair dripping from a bath. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him.

“Early this morning, before sunrise.” He spoke, his eyes taking you in. You saw it now, what Isildur had mentioned. He did look at you as if you were one of the valar. As if you hung the stars themselves and taught the sun how to shine.

You stood there, in silence, looking at him and not knowing what to say or do. The revelation made your breath catch in your chest. Also, you had missed him, and you had felt heartbroken. Now, looking at how he looked at you, you thought perhaps he had been heartbroken by you too.

“Sweet one, I am sorry for what happened before. I ..-”

You shook your head, holding up a hand. It took a moment for the words to come, and when they did, they were but a whisper.

“Do you love me?”

He looked at you in shock. You felt like your heart stopped beating in your chest as you waited for an answer. He simply stood there. You could see in his eyes that he was thinking a million things at once. When he didn’t speak, you asked again.

“Halbrand, do you love me?”

He wet his lips and nodded. “I do,” his voice sounded broken, almost defeated. Like loving you was losing some game. His eyes lifted from where they stared at the floor and looked at you.

Any sense of self control, of decency, it all crumbled with those simple words. It was as if a magnet drew you to him. Suddenly, his face was in your hands and your lips on his. He did not attempt to hesitate. A groan that soon turned into a growl rumbled in his chest as he kissed you back. He tasted wine and smoke. It was intoxicating. Your fingers found their way into his hair as he held your face in his hands.

He broke the kiss, holding your chin in his grasp as he kept your face away from him. “Sweet one,” his voice was deep and rough. You could feel his breath on your skin.“Tell me this is what you want.”

“I want this,” you didn’t hesitate a moment, “I want you.”

“Fuck,” Halbrand groaned, pulling you into his room and shutting the door. His lips were on yours in an instant, pushing you against the door. One of his knees found its way in between your legs as his tongue tasted the inside of your mouth. Your mind was quickly becoming fuzzy, a warmness spreading through your body, an aching between your legs. His hands were frantically moving along your body, as if he wanted to feel all of you at once. His hands were calloused and rough but you enjoyed it. Just as you enjoyed the rough scratches of his beard on your face.

This time, it was you who pulled away for breath. The air between you was hot and thick. He rested his forehead against yours with one of his hands gently holding your neck. “Tell me to stop, sweet one, and I will,” his thumb caressed your skin lightly.

You looked up at him, “I am yours.”

“Do not say words when you do not know the weight of them, sweet one.”

“I am yours,” you repeated, in a moment of uncharacteristic boldness, you guided his hands under your dress and to the sticky, wet heat between your thighs. You couldn't help but smile at the way his breath hitched in his throat and the way his eyes flutter.

His fingers moved, rubbing soft small circles against your clit and watched your face intently. “Has anyone touched you like this?”

You shook your head, and the hand still on your throat squeezed gently, “Use your words, sweet one.”

“No, only you.” You gasped, his finger slid inside you.

“Fuck, do you hear that?” His finger moved faster, the wet sound of your arousal filling the room. “My sweet one,” he cooed, “fucking soaked at the thought of my cock, huh?”

You whimpered, bucking your hips against his finger. He added another one, his eyes never leaving your face, and you cried out his name. Your lips parted slightly and he took it as an invitation to kiss you once more. It was wet and rough and sloppy. He was getting just as lost in the moment, you could tell by the almost primal grunts and groans that left his lips.

His fingers never stopped, even when his lips found your neck. His lips sucked, teeth, teeth nipped, and tongue soothed all well. You gasped and whimpered at his touch. There would be hickeys there in the morning, but that was the furthest thing from your mind. His hand on your neck moved to the valley between your chest before cupping your breast, his thumb brushing your clothed nipple.

That was enough, your cunt clenched around his fingers and your body arched into him. It was a pleasure you had never experienced before, your mind went blank.

“That's it, that's my girl,” Halbrand mumbled softly, his fingers never ceasing. “C'mon sweet girl. Fuck, look at you. Look at that pretty fucking face.”

You breathed heavily. You could feel how you had coated his hands. Your senses came back to you. Your head fell back against the door, “that was incredible.”

He chuckled, his thumb coaxing you to look at him. “Pretty girl, look at me.” You did as he told you, his hands cupping your face. Your own essence smearing against your cheeks.

“That's my girl,” he squeezed your cheeks in his hand. “My pretty fucking girl. I need you to look at me, okay, and I need you to be honest. There is nothing more I want right now than your cunt squeezing around my cock but I need to know you want that too.”

You breathed heavily, that feeling in between your thighs returning, though you weren't sure it had ever left. “Yes, Halbrand, please.”

That's all it took for him to hoist you against the wall, bunching the material of your dress at your hips. He was too desperate to wait to take your clothes off. He made quick work of lowering his pants just enough to free his cock.

“Sweet one, look at me, in my eyes. If this hurts, tell me, and I'll stop.” You nodded and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. One hand held your hips in place while the other gripped your face, ensuring you looked at him and only him.

The moment his cock stretched you, your mouth parted in a gasp. It didn't hurt much at all, perhaps due to the slick arousal that was there already.

“Fuck,” his breath hitched, “Fuck. Does my cock feel good, sweet one?” You nodded, “No, no, no. Use your words. Let me hear it.”

“Your cock feels good,” you breathed out.

“Such foul words from such a pretty mouth.” His thumb traced your bottom lip. “I'm going to move now.”

You nodded before catching yourself, “please.”

The first stroke made your eyes roll back. He felt incredible. You could hear the slick sound of him fucking you and it only aided in your arousal.

“You're taking my cock so well, sweet one.” He kept moving, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, soon your hips were moving to match his thrusts and your fingernails dug into the skin of his shoulders.

Something about that flipped a switch in him. His thrusts were harder and faster, and his fingers gripped you tighter. But you did not mind at all.

“You're mine,” he whispered. “This my fucking cunt, isn't it?” When you nodded his eyes all but rolled into the back of his head. You were his and his alone. You were gone, your thoughts only consisted of him. How he was making you feel. There was nothing else in this world other than his cock.

“My cunt is yours,” you repeated, your eyes started to close but he grabbed your face.

“Eyes on me, sweet one. Focus on the feeling. I want to see how good I make my pretty girl feel. Look at those pretty eyes. Those. Gorgeous. Fucking. Eyes.” He gasped, his grip on your face tight. Every word he spoke, he thruster harder into you. You whimpered and arched into him, your fingers now tugging at his hair desperately.

“You feel that cock, huh? It's yours, only yours. This is your cock, sweet one. I am yours. No one else will have me like this."

Your breathing quickened, his name falling from your lips over and over. Desperate and begging.

“Tell me you love me,” he whispered, “tell me you love me and I will come undone.”

Through whines and whimpers, you spoke. “I love you.” it was you who came first, crying out his name as white stars exploded in your vision, but he soon followed. He buried his face in your neck, and you felt the hot breath and vibrations of his moans as he filled you.

He stayed there for a moment, breathing heavily. You finally gained your senses and couldn't help but start to giggle. That was incredible. You'd never felt anything like it.

“Are you laughing at me?” Halbrand teased, his face still in your neck.

“No, no. I just….that was incredible.”

It was his turn to laugh. “I take it you're going to want to do it again.”

“Well, yes, but preferably on a bed next time.”

He chuckled and lifted his head, “I love you,” he gently squeezed your cheeks in his hands. “I love you. I need you to know that,” he rested his forehead against yours.

“I know, Halbrand. I saw you today, at the forge. I know.” You wrapped your fingers around his wrists and gently squeezed.

“The elf means nothing, not compared to what I feel for you. I consider her a friend, nothing more. You must believe this. You are….everything.”

You nodded. “I love you, too.”

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder and neck. “Let's get you a bath. Once I take you to bed, I'm not going to let you leave."

#halbrand x reader #sauron x reader #halbrand x oc #sauron x oc #trop fanfiction #trop x reader #rings of power x reader #rings of power fanfiction #isildur x reader #annatar x reader

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qwimblenorrisstan · 3 months ago

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A Smoke For 3 | Price x Reader x Gaz

Summary: You, a new and bold recruit, decide to inform Price that smoking is bad for him, and he and Gaz proceed to figure out that smoking is also very bad for you after they tag-team you.

Word Count: ~ 1.5k

Warnings: sort of noncon, smut, p in v, fingering, shotgunning smoke, asthma attack, gaz being a little cutiepie, punching weird men

Minors, do not interact!

A/N: yall idk what got into me, full credit to @syoddeye and @twistytimesandthoughts for the idea, find the inspo post+comment here and go give them some love!! hope you enjoy <3

Requests are open!

For a new recruit, you’d always been a little mouthy.

Nothing terrible, really, but as one of the only women in your group other than a few, you and the other girls were always silently communicating, if not just flat-out gossiping to each other at the lunch table.

Price had been watching over the newest recruits during lunch in the mess hall once, and it was hard not to notice the group of three girls, all having already finished their lunch, in avid conversation. Talking, laughing, giving each other looks. It was all he could do not to try and listen in.

Gaz, however, had accidentally heard a few glimpses while walking past your table. It was entertaining, to say the least.

“He has the attitude of a man whose dick is the size of a baby carrot,”

You’d casually said one day amongst your group of girls, and they’d all given nods, one just taking a bite of her food as if that wasn’t abnormal at all, meanwhile, Kyle was choking on his spit.

Despite being one of the only girls, you had plenty of spunk, as well. You weren’t a bunk bunny, and you certainly didn’t react well to any sort of flirting or forwardness from any men to you. When the men tried showing you up in training? Price saw firsthand how you put in extra effort just to embarrass them.

It was amusing, he’d admit.

But what he didn’t find amusing was how that same spunk came to bite him in the ass.

You’d always had a sort of evil eye for him, it seemed, especially when he was puffing his cigar. He didn’t fail to notice the way you held your breath when passing by him or didn’t stay close to him or Kyle (Kyle smelled like smoke because of Price’s constant smoking around 141).

Hell, even at training you often didn’t ask him for help demonstrating something, opting to observe what everyone else was doing, or ask one of your male friends for help.

It all came to a culmination when he’d already been having a shitty day, considering his favorite packets of morning tea had been out, and he’d chosen one of his more expensive cigars to cope. He’d walked into the mess, seen you and your girls giving nasty looks to some idiotic soldier trying to get into your pants, and you’d socked the man straight in the jaw.

Well, they must’ve been teaching you something right, because he was out cold.

And now Price had to deal with it, and he sure as hell wasn’t handling your temper without Gaz to act peace-maker.

So here you were, standing in his office, arms crossed as you stared point-blank at him.

“You canno’ just punch people when they say something you don’t like.”

“He was bein’ disrespectful.”

A heavy puff of his cigar, and you cringed. Kyle sighed through his nose, just enough for Price to notice, and he raised a brow.

“Wha’? Don’ like the smell ‘o smoke?”

“Smoking’s bad for you, you know.”

You said, clearly trying not to breathe in the smoke Price was now obviously puffing right into your face. As if you were better than him. You might be a pretty little bird, but you weren’t getting away with that.

He didn’t know who moved first, but after he and Kyle exchanged a glance, his hands were on your hips and you were bent over his desk. Your lip curled in distaste, as you struggled and kicked, hands scratching at Price.

“Get the fuck offa me, bastard-“

You hissed as Price forcefully held you down. In truth, you probably could’ve used any of the maneuvers they’d taught you before to throw him off, but did you want that? Were you really going to complain about attention from both the hot captain and sergeant?

“Easy..,”

Kyle cooed, bringing your hands out in front of you, over your head to hold them down while his other hand gently stroked your hair, a stark contrast to Price’s actions as he not-so-gently tugged your pants off and panties to the side.

“Fuckin’ brat, mouthin’ off. Need a lesson.”

He said, taking only one glove off before slipping a thick finger between your folds, rubbing at your clit in a way that had you mewling and squirming while Kyle tried to soothe you. Right when you were almost on the edge, he stopped, much to your protests.

“Though’ I was gonna le’ you? No, not after tha’.”

He said, slipping a finger in, not exactly gently, but still measured enough that you knew he wasn’t trying to hurt you. Even when pissed out of his mind, it wasn’t in his nature to hurt a lady.

You kept squirming, hips trying to buck against his fingers as he added another, but Gaz wrapped an arm around your waist, not letting you move an inch.

“Just a little longer, pretty. Be patient.”

He murmured, and you shot him as much of a glare as you could muster, and he only returned a pearly-white handsome smile you couldn’t even frown at. Though you couldn’t frown at much if anything when Price’s fingers were rubbing up and down, then he began curling them, hitting that sweet, gooey spot.

“Fuck…that’s good—“

You groaned, eyes screwing shut as your climax built again, only for it to be just one more little stroke away when he pulled his fingers out, making you huff in frustration. The scent of smoke remained, and you tried not to breathe it in. Price could tell.

That wouldn’t do.

He unbuckled his belt, undoing his fly as he took another deep inhale of smoke, slowly pulling his hard dick from his boxers, slowly giving it a few strokes. You didn’t fail to notice the way Gaz watched it so closely. The tip was a flushed red, a bead of precum at it. He was an absolute monster.

“Garrick,”

He began, lining his cock with your entrance, hands rubbing little circles on your hips from where he held them down to make you relax before he began pushing in.

“Sir?” Kyle asked.

Price took another deep inhale of smoke, using deep, punishing thrusts that he knew would have the both of you finishing in time. Especially with how your walls milked him already.

Eyes half-lidded from pleasure, Price gently grabbed Kyle’s shirt, pulling him forward until their lips met, and Gaz, getting the memo, opened up just enough for his captain to shotgun the smoke straight to him. It gave you a tiny moment of wiggle room while Kyle was distracted, and you used it to slam back on Price and squeeze as hard as you could.

This tactic seemed to work well, considering his cursing, the stuttering of his hips, and the frantic movement of his calloused thumb pad against your clit, bringing you to pleasure faster than you’d like to admit.

Just as you hit your climax, and Price began filling you up amidst slutty groans and pants, he jerked his head from Gaz to you, and Price hooked a thumb in your mouth, pulling it open just enough for Kyle to shotgun the smoke forcefully into it, despite your protests.

“Good girl, keep it in..”

He cooed, and Price’s hand fisted in your hair as he slipped out, redoing his trousers.

You began coughing a moment later, and Price raised a brow, thinking you were just being dramatic at first. When Kyle’s expression became worried, though, he realized that a normal cough didn’t last quite that long.

He put your panties back in order and slid your pants up for you while sitting you down on a chair in his office as you wheezed and coughed, seemingly completely out of breath.

“Shit, what’s wrong with her?”

“Is she allergic or something?”

Their eyes met for a moment, and they both suddenly realized what was happening. You had asthma.

It should’ve been obvious, from the small bulge always in your pocket or jacket that was your inhaler, to how you avoided cigarette smoke like the plague. They didn’t know how you got into the military, but you did, somehow. Maybe you just lied about it.

But you always carried your inhaler on you.

Gaz began searching your jacket pockets, and Price began searching your pant pockets, Kyle finding it first and making you open your mouth, placing the device in.

“Just breathe in, yeah? That’s it, good girl..”

He cooed, letting puffs of the inhaler enter your mouth. As a result, your body became a bit shaky, but you could still breathe at the end of the day.

“Assholes.”

You rasped, and Price sighed.

“‘M sorry, luv. Didn’t mean to get carried away. Let’s get you to medical.”

And so Price and Gaz, much to your protests, carried you to medical, which was quite funny to Ghost and Soap who were training and got to see the equivalent of two grown men trying to carry an angry wet cat that lost its voice.

When you finally got there, they put you on oxygen, and Price and Gaz didn’t fail to stay there until you felt like you could breathe again.

“We’ll make it up to you, we promise.”

Gaz assured you with a soft smile as he let you hold his hand, while Price was now thinking about quitting smoking.

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gallusrostromegalus · 2 years ago

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I've always said that kubota did orihime soooooooo dirty >:( she literally has god powers and they get diminished so harshly... I've always viewed her power as her having the ability to Reject phenomena. In canon she rejects the fact that people are injured. What would happen if she rejected the fact that someone was alive? That someone was in her way? Reject the injustices that led to her and her friends' world being turned upside down. Anyway I love that your hime has the spine she deserves and I'm so excited to be completely normal about aeiwam

Some Important facts about Orihime from canon:

Orihime is the #3 student in her entire (fairly large) high school. Girl Ain't Stupid- if anything, the fact that she's wildly unorthodox in her projects and STILL pulls those kinds of grades and test scores suggests that her teachers are grading her like that because her weird-ass approaches to assignments demonstrate a thorough understanding of the material, so she may actually be smarter than Uryuu, the #1 student who gives me very strong "I'm very good at taking tests and telling teachers what they want to hear, so I can pull good grades even if I have no clue what the subject is" Vibes.

Orihime cooks weird damn food, and enjoys it. She also has strange ideas about what's cute, exceptionally brightly colored clothes relative to everyone else, and does things like get lost following dragonflies for hours on end. Screams sensory processing Weirdness to me. Maybe I'm projecting a bit here, but Sensory processing disorders come with sensory euphoria too- I get to enjoy a huge variety of strange foods and the sound of rain gives me physical joy.

Orihime's best friends* are: -The School's Self-affected "weird boy who might be a delinquent or possibly just insane" guy -A Butch Jock With Anger Issues -The Crafts Club president who has So Much Gender Happening, and also sort-of grew up in a cult -The Giant, scary-looking guy who keeps smuggling small animals into school. -A Genuine sociopath whose family probably has Yakuza Connections -An extremely powerful supernatural being who is like five times her age -Keigo. This is not the friend group of a "Normal"

Taken together, these points form a constellation of THIS GIRL GOT AUTISM. LIKE SO MUCH. LEVEL 999 AUTISM MAGE. She's full of strange joy and magnificently weird and experiencing reality four steps to the left of everyone else AND SHE IS SO, SO SMART.

So in the fic, when she sees Ichigo freaking out because Rukia has been Kidnapped back to Soul Society on Bullshit criminal charges, Orihime does what every autistic person I know does, and immediately begins drafting a Solution.

Namely She begins drafting an extraction plan. She gets slightly in over her head with details about what data they need, how much and what kind of resistance they'd be facing etc. etc. until she realizes she needs some concrete answers and, without regard to social conventions like "time" and "Personal space", more or less kicks in the door to Urahara's shop at 2AM, marches directly into his bedroom and starts interrogating him about the civil services in soul society, yes it's weird you sleep naked with your cat sir but I'm not here to pass judgment I'm here to get answers you can put pants on later.

After the resounding success of their operation in Soul Society, the hardest part when Ulquiorra comes to kidnap her and gives her the completely insane circumstances of "you will be invisible and go through walls for 12 hours, prepare yourself." is not vibrating with the absolute mania of the chance to go to Los Noches and FUCK. SHIT. UP.

#AEIWAM #An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy #bleach fanfic

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hobiespick · 5 months ago

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Sam Winchester x reader headcanons part 3

<33

a/n: heyyyyyy I had so much fun writting these. I am literally shaking as we speak cuz i'm still kinda shy abt this even tho yall showed me sm love and gave so much positive feedback on the first 2 parts I was giggling, blushing, and twirling my invisible phone cord. Thank you all so much for everything and enjoy my shitty thoughts 🫶💞 + tagging a lovely person who gave me the idea of writting one of these @yinorathedragontamer

Summary/Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, Sam Winchester x gn!reader , Sam being the biggest boyfriend of all boyfriends (im quoting one of my moots), the first headcanon isn't sam x reader it's Jess x Sam (rip to the hottest couple) the headcanon came to me in a prophetic vision and i just had to leave it here, mention of Sam's childhood + I couldn't help myself but make a few headcanons about Dean too.

- I have a deep feeling (i'm an empath) that around college when he was with Jess and he wouldn't leave her side, Sam accidentally got adopted by her girl group of friends - hear me out - he would cling to Jess for his dear life shaking and not wanting to intrude or make him look nosy and Jess's girlfriends wouldn't bat an eye, welcoming Sam with open arms and treating him the same - they are the reason his guilty pleasure is gossiping. One of Jess's (girl)friends coming hurriedly towards the group with a shocked expression and a hand covering her mouth and Sam already knows the tea is scrumptious - he probably got called "girl" so many times - he didn't mind it btw, actually kinda liked it because that means they included him - spreading my "Sam Winchester enjoys the company of female friends more than male ones agenda" like wildfire ‼️ - "wyd when me and my gang pull up" and it's five y2k girls + a preppy blonde girl whose boyfriend is some 6'4 emo kid with a Green Day tee who follows her around with heart eyes

- "Dean, move your leg or I'm throwing your fucking mixtapes out of the window" you threaten annoyed at the audacity of the long ass older Winchester to just stretch out as if you're not both (tired af) in the back seat of baby, you try to find a comfortable position for what feels like the 50th time to stay for a few hours untill all of you make it in one piece to Washington (Dean might not since he is acting like that). "You touch my mixtapes and I might throw you out of the window, runt." Dean barks (lovingly), lifting his sunglasses on his head and pointing a defensive finger at you. You are too tired to think and to retort something snarky back but still settle on rolling your eyes and giving his foot a kick.

Sam is driving like a princess in the front, his legs are streched out with his back comfortably resting against his seat with an arm lazily holding the steering wheel as the wind coming from the rolled window brushes some of his hair on his forhead, all while looking effortlessly handsome. "Don't make me come back there" Sam laughs breaking the character he wanted to play along as (hint: dads on road trips). Sam's pants would catch on fire if he said he was annoyed at your childish bickering with his brother, he found it endearing. It just added to the list of things he liked about you. You gasp a little bit too dramatically and gesture towards Dean "He started it" you grumble. Dean gives you a kick of his own pulling his sunglasses back down and crossing his arms, atleast he retreats his legs giving you enough space to rest yours.

- uses every excuse to touch you (his hands are literally twitching in anticipation to hold yours, or hug you)

- Dean is a classic rock etillist (he learned that from J*hn) but his guilty pleasure is nu metal especially limp bizkit. - he only listens when Sam isn't around. - says he's getting himself a little treat (fancy headphones) with his hard-earned money (poker/credit card fraud) - J*hn introduced him to led zeppelin and Dean feels like he's dissapointing him by not being a carbon copy of him hence his secrecy - So the "guilty pleasure" has deeper roots

- Sam told you he doesn't remember owning a childhood plushie, you fix that

- you open the door and close it with your foot, hands clinging to the bag you're holding to your chest after almost stumbling over. Sam's expression changes into a smile upon your arrival, kinda like a golden reriever. He gets up from the reasearch papers scatterred around the table no longer the center of his attention to greet you.

"Hey" the word 'sweetheart' almost sneaks out of his mouth but he contained himself with grace, god forbid he makes you uncomfortable (he's alot like you y'know? ). "Hi" you reply breathlessly due to your almost stunt and the fact that Dean took Baby out so you had to walk back to the motel in the humid weather of Washington. You take off your shoes and set the bag on the table, Sam's nosy self is itching to see what's inside. Before you open anything you make sure to peel off the hoodie you have on and rest it on a chair. "I got something but i need you to close your eyes and lay out your hands please." You start already bitting back a smile with a tinge of nervousness at what his reaction could be.

Yes, you got Sam a plushie. You got matching ones, the one for Sam is a brown moose with dark brown glass eyes that kept reminding you of him. The one you got for yourself is a same-zise moose plushie in your favourite color. What's even more cuter is that both of the plushies came as a package and they can stick their hands together with the magic of little pieces of square shaped tape on each their hands (hooves?). Sam is scared and excited at the same time. He will thank you for whatever you got him, he raised himself to be gratefull, it's just that growing up he learned and was usually met with dissapointment. John not showing up for his soccer game and neither Dean because he is hunting with him? Yeah he knows. Not even a call from his dad on his 21st birthday? Yeah he expected that. But he knows you, and the amount of times you have dissapointed him. (hint: zero)

So he does as you told him to. He extends his hand and turns it over, his other arm resting by his side. He closes his eyes and does not open them once. Sam was that kinda kid at the playground, so fair and by the rules it's almost suspicious. He can hear the noise of the brown paper bag crinkling and somehow imagine the sight of you smilling brightly, a sight that almost bribes him to open his eyes and see for himself. He focuses on the sound untill he feels the soft velvet material of the plushie in his hands. He doesn't even open his eyes yet he just furrows his eyebrows in confusion as his fingers pet the fabric of the stuffed animal.

You stand there, the biggest most nervous smile planted on your face as you wait for his verdict. "Sam, you can open your eyes now." you speak loud enough for him to hear, and he does open them, they glisten wet under the crappy motel room light. He has this mix of sadness and joy on his face at the same time as he cranes his neck to look down at the stuffed animal in his hands, he can envelope it entirely if he tried. You wish you could read thoughts right now, to make Sam open up his brain to you and show you how he feels about this, whether the reaction is negative or positive, you just want (need) to hear him speak, fuck, he can even yell at you if that is what he chooses to do (he wouldn't in a million years). Regret hits you like a hurricane after a few seconds of silence, that's the last thing you wanted to do, make Sam remember what a shitty childhood he had with just a stuffed animal, a fucking toy. The thought that this could come off as a reminder for him that's like 'Hey buddy, your childhood is so fucked up I felt sorry for you, here' didn't even occur you. All you wanted to do is give him something normal, to make him feel normal, a feeling he has been chasing all of his life. You bought two matching moose plushies with the thought that you're gonna match with your bestfriend, you're going to share some normalacy with your bestfriend in your world, your monsters are real world.

You wanted to build a time machine and rescue little Sam and Dean from the fucking monster John Winchester was. Yes, John Winchester loved his boys, but neglect and love don't mix. Leaving a 10 year old to look out for a 6 year old isn't love, taking your children with you to fucking hunt and kill fairy tale monsters isn't love. "Sam?" You call out quietly, nervousness already visible in your body language. Sam shots his head up at the mention of his name and most importantly the tone of your voice. He gives you a weak tight lipped smile (as if the sight would spare you having to worry about him, as if you don't feel the need to bang your head against a wall whenever you see Sam in any kind of pain) and wipes a tear that runs down his cheek with the cuff of his hoodie. "Sam- I'm sorry- I thought-" You justify yourself and attempt at swallowing the lump formed in your throat, you rub your sweaty palms on your jeans and feel like the biggest asshole in the world. You awkwardly take a step closer untill you take in consideration the idea that getting closer might be the last thing he needs right now so you step right back. Sam tears taste sweet, he can confirm it himself. The way you spent time and money going to provide him with something he was wrongfully stolen off of having when he was only a kid made him tear up in the spam of a few seconds. You asked, he answered, you felt sorry, he desperately wants you to comfort him, then you do something to make him feel appreciated/cherished. He glances at you and sees the state you're in. His legs instinctively take three long strides towards you and envelopes you in the most comforting embrace anyone has ever gave you. You don't need to be psychic or practice insane voodoo/hoodoo to know exactly how this made him feel, it's all in this hug. You hug him back and Sam starts rubbing circles with his index finger on your back, he is crying his eyes out and he's still comforting anyone but himself. You hear his sniffles as he agressively wipes his nose with his cuff. "Thank you" he croaks out, his tone hoarse and raspy. He rests his head on top of yours and you can feel him finally relax. You can also tell he has no intention of breaking the hug anytime soon but that is your last worry. You made Sam happy tonight and that's all it matters.

- you and Sam are the golden retriever + black cat duo the world needs. - grocery trips with him (he doesn't need anything, just wanted to go with you) that are fun and weirdly domestic. - it's all making jokes and finding eachother the snacks you usually eat untill someone bumps into him and HE apologizes. "Sorry" he says giving the dude that's shorter than him a tight lipped smile. The dude presses "Almost dropped my shit 'cause of you assh-" You cut him off by clearing your throat and making him turn around his face dropping as he notices your glare at him. "He said he was sorry." You chide (threaten) with a scarily blunt tone, you have no idea how someone can even dare to look the wrong way at Sam, he's too tall for his own good and he's built like a brick wall. "Whatever" the dude leaves scoffing , your expression softening as soon as your eyes settle on Sam. He has a stupid dorky look on his face and adoration in his eyes, his hands shoved in his jean pockets towering over you almost awkwardly. "Ugh. What is it today asshole day?" You joke breaking the silence, (yes, you're quoting kat stratford) Sam just laughs and nods, you could say it's Christmas and he would believe you. "Looks like it." He agrees, not even caring for that asshole that he could've handled himself just fine, he hunts monsters for a goddamn career. He just adores the way you jumped to take his side.

- expressing your wish to find or atleast thrift a brown carhartt jacket similar to Sam's, only for him to offer giving it to you whenever you wanna wear it. - "S'okay you can wear it i don't mind, you just have to ask me before, yeah?" - he also can't stop blushing at the sight of you in his already baggy jacket appearing more larger on you.

- the jacket engulfs you in this sense of security and an addictive smell of Sam (his fav earthy cologne) - the way you're looking good, happy, and warm in his jacket makes Sam's heart skip a few beats. - Dean smirks and compliments you, having to take a double look to confirm it's infact Sammy's jacket on you "Looking good, Y/n" he smiles and sends Sam a wink you're to oblivious to notice but you do notice the tone he uses, replying back skeptically "Thanks?" but you shrug it off asking Sam if he wants to come with you to this fast food place to bring back dinner.

- When Dean's brain cells put 2 and 2 togheter and realizes you and Sam are absolutely pining for eachother he purposefully does alot of stuff so you're stuck spending time with Sam and vice versa. It's either an easy move to make you two go out/stay in or it's a geniusly absolutely malefically strategically thinked and mastered 50 step plan that has atleast 20 plan B's in case anything goes wrong but we all know he doesn't need them, the mission goes smoothly each time. if Winchesters are anything, it's stubborn, incredibly and stupidly stubborn so Dean is not giving up on making one of you confess to eachother and if you don't he might take matters in his own hands and scream it out loud enough for You and Sammy to hear.

- he is so eager, the first time you kissed him he automatically assumed he's your boyfriend. - "Is that any way to speak with your boyfriend?" With a jokingly hurt face and a dramatically placed hand on his chest when you're being too mean. - "As your boyfriend and your lore boy.." - "I'm Sam, their boyfriend.." when he's introducing himself to person he knows has certain intentions with you or somebody making you uncomfortable.

- you pulled a muscle in your shoulder while on a hunt and stubbornly denied anything ever hurted even when Sam asked. - you keep rolling your shoulder when Sam says "Looks like you pulled something alright. You probably shouldn't move too much, you'll just make it worse." You scoffed at that, no way Sam for real? I had no idea I had to do that, thank god a smart boy like yourself is right beside me. "Are you mansplaining to me how to let a pulled muscle heal?" You retort, mainly because of the pain partially cause mansplaining is unnecessary and ignorant. And when Sam thought he couldn't like you any more than he already does you proved him wrong. He only chuckled, amused by your snarky reply, even going as far as to apreciate your attitude. "I'm not mansplaining anything, I'm just stating facts. Even a five year old could tell you that overusing a muscle will make the pain worse." He teased back.

- He enjoys the intimacy between the two of you when there are jokes and certain things you and him can laugh about because you're both huge nerds.

- Bobby let's you borrow whatever books you want from his huge ass library (mans probably got illegal books there)

- Bobby and Dean give eachother knowing looks whenever you and Sam literally do anything togheter, you and him pretend not to notice, not even mentioning it.

- guys i wanna cuddle with Sam Winchester so bad it's not even funny anymore *sobbing while my eyeliner mixed with tears is running down my face*

- he's a big cuddlebug I am willing to bet all my life savings and my first born he is. - the way you feel so safe and comforted when his light pole build wraps two arms around you, holding you close, trying to get you impossibly closer. - his hugs are the same, tender yet firm reflecting on his gentle nature. - just spoons you when he finds you on the couch sleeping with a bunch of research papers scattered and dusty old books around you which he tosses aside, because he is too proud to ask for cuddles.

- you wake up in the middle of the night you have no idea what time is it, you have one missing sock, your throat is dry, and you feel an arm draped over your waist getting tighter around you the more you twist around. And that's when you hear it, it's right next to your ear, Sam's low sleepy hum as he stirrs behind you, nudging his face deeper into your neck. You have no choice but to lay there untill he wakes up 'cause there is no escaping.

a/n: again i'm posting this shaking, this took so long I was scared I wasn't gonna finish it. They are so long they might not classify as headcanons but i couldn't care less. The plushie one made me feel like hamilton while writting it lmaoo. Hope yall enjoyed!! 💞 feedback would be very much appreciated<33

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #spn #jared padalecki #spnfandom #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #sam winchester x you #dean winchester #spn headcanons #Sam winchester is so boyfriend l ahshsgshhs #bobby singer #sam winchester fluff

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ghoastixx · 4 months ago

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hey, hi, um hello? I don't know what to do so I'm just guessing, if this is to vague, weird and or long I'm sorry please ignore it!!!

I wanted to try to request a supernatural Castiel x reader either fic or head cannons or anything really with a reader whose the Winchesters sister? This may be to specific but my favorite trope when I was a kid was the fake dating. So maybe the Winchesters are working with a different hunter who's kind of a creep and keeps flirting with reader and he won't back off despite the brothers warnings. So in the end Dean just calls Cas and is like congratulations you're dating my sister, now get him to back off! And so the two of them just start fake dating but after the hunt and the other hunter leaves Cas doesn't stop treating her all sweet and everything? I don't know, just something fluffy please, I think I made it way to complicated 😭😭 sorry for bugging you

Winchester Sister w/ Castiel

synopsis above

notes: YOU ARE NOT BOTHERING ME AT ALL!!!! I think this is so cute and just..so Cas? If that makes sense.. Thank you so so much for sending me this request, I love detailed requests!

Author's notes: Female reader, sort of sassy. Made up a hunter to be the creep, wanted to do Gordon but that would just make you a victim </3

Tried to keep the description of the reader vague so anyone can enjoy.

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The Winchesters' figured it would be so simple. The hunt was so simple, so why wouldn't drinks afterwards be? Mason, the hunter that was helping you all out and it went smooth, despite your brother's grudge against working with other hunters. Mason offered to take you all out for drinks. That's now where you were.

The first ick was when Mason sat next to you at the bar. You figured he was just trying to be friendly, you had just hunted together after all! But then he ordered you a drink which made you feel weird, but again, he was probably just trying to be nice. So you put on a smile and thank him.

"You really pulled your weight back there Y/N." He said, taking a drink of a beer.

"Oh- uh- thanks?"

"I like that in a woman."

"Excuse me-"

Dean, who was watching closely, was fuming. You tried to explain that you were not looking for a boyfriend currently, but he just wasn't listening. He wasn't leaving you alone. So, when Sam came back with drinks for both he and Dean, Dean looked at him and pointed this out. Sam seemed a bit uncomfortable with this, but suggested to let you handle yourself. You were more than capable and you all knew that.

When nothing had changed five minutes later and you started to look like you wanted to kill Mason, Dean decided to call out the big guns..

"Hello?" The solemn voice of the angel spoke a bit loudly through the phone.

"Yeah, Cas, listen. It's important, get here. We're at a small bar in Minnesota at exactly 777 boulevard Road."

With the sound of a flutter, Castiel was standing in front of Dean. "What's wrong?" Dean pointed behind him. Castiel turned around when Dean put his hands on Castiel's shoulders, getting close to his ear.

"Congratulations feathers, you're dating my sister. Now, see that guy right there? He's being a creep to your lady, go and kick his ass." Castiel, confused, nodded. He stood there a minute before walking in your direction. Sam looked at Dean, who had his arms crossed.

"Yeah, sick 'em boy!" Sam teased Dean, Dean looked at him with a pissy expression.

You were deep in your third beer, biting your tongue as you listened to Mason ramble on about his tastes. You were getting close to losing your temper before you heard a monotone voice behind you, you recognized it. It made you cock a brow,

"Y/N, I'm sorry that I'm late...dear." The nickname confused you, but nonetheless, you sat up straight and smiled at him.

"Cas," Once you acknowledged him, he put his hand around your waist. You looked at him with a more confused expression than you had before you seemingly got the hint. "Oh- that's alright honey. Don't worry about it. Cas, this is Mason. He just helped us with the hunt."

Mason looked at his competition with an annoyed expression. "And you are?"

"Castiel," The angel hummed, "her boyfriend." His eyes were stern, it made Mason squirm a bit. Seemingly a bit insecure because he stood up.

"I have to go. Bye Y/n." He mumbled before sulking out of the bar. You looked at Castiel, getting up.

"God- thank you Cas. You're a lifesaver." Cas's smile seemed a bit shy, which was unusual for the stern angel. He nodded. As you went to your brother's, he followed you, staying rather close.

As Dean and Sam talked to you about Mason, asking if you were okay, Castiel seemed more interested in you. Admiring you.

Whenever you guys decided to leave, Castiel actually got into the backseat with you, sitting directly next to you. He put his hand pretty close to yours, grazing against it. Dean noticed this in the rearview mirror, cocking an eyebrow.

Castiel was standing in front of the motel door, looking at you.

"So.. will I see you tomorrow?" A cheesy smile formed on your face, your cheeks a bit pink.

"Yeah Cas, I would love to.. Goodnight."

Dean groaned as he walked past.

"Cas, you know you're not actually dating Y/N, right?" he asked with a scoff.

"I'm not?" "He's not?"

#fanfic #fanfiction #supernatural x reader #spn x reader #supernatural #castiel #spn #castiel x reader

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physalian · 5 months ago

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Another 5 Character Types the World Needs More of (Part 3)

Part 1 Part 2

I did not expect these two posts to continue getting notes. So. Here’s some that didn’t make the cut and a few new ones.

1. Character who is immune to everyone else’s bullshit

This can either be funny or a breath of fresh air. I’m talking your drama cast of 15 all losing their minds over “he said/she said” and fixating on so many ridiculous and arbitrary problems… meanwhile Chuck over here is skinned with teflon and completely immune to tropes like manufactured miscommunication or drama, who’s juuust shy of being genre savvy to Get Shit Done like this is their second time around the block and they are not happy to be back.

The first one to pop into my head is Soundwave from TFP. He has no voice actor for 99% of the show and doesn’t have a face and is only the focus character for like, 2 episodes, but whenever he’s on screen you can just see “I’m surrounded by idiots” playing on repeat in his head. This con is brutally efficient, never messes up, and is never wrong and while everyone else is caught up on ladder-climbing and revenge quests, Soundwave is over here vibing and keeping the whole cause together.

2. The Femme Fatale, but a man

This is not sexy suave abusive asshole hero you’re supposed to root for, who’s a male power fantasy. This is literally the exact same trope, but a man. Meaning, he gets the same revealing uniform, the same “I’m letting you think you’re in charge but really I’m pulling all the strings”. Crucially, he’s straight, because most of them are gay-coded (because the man being in the submissive, ‘girly role’ is horrifying, he must be gay). This dude weaponizes toxic masculinity, making the villains extremely uncomfortable and throwing the villain’s own power fantasy back in their face.

This dude unabashedly flirts with his captors just to get in their heads, removes all concepts of personal space, and makes straight villains seriously question their sexuality. He has social engineering down to a science. I’m sure there’s one that exists, but every one I can think of is already queer-coded and that’s not good enough. So just. Black Widow. But a man.

3. Mary Sue/ Gary Stu who becomes the villain

Since these characters are the product of insecurity and lack of self-awareness… the example for this trope is Titan from Megamind. This character is absolutely the hero of their own story, practically perfect in every way. They think they’re the best at everything without trying, flawless in features and personality, and everybody loves them. And genuinely, they are just that good.

So good, that they live long enough to become the villain. Obviously people who write Mary Sues with full sincerity have no idea that anything’s wrong or problematic, but a genuine Mary Sue whose perfection is their greatest flaw without them even realizing it would be an interesting villain because I’m getting sick and tired of “sympathetic” villains who are really starting to feel like excuses for abusers to be abusive because they were smacked around as a kid.

4. Paragon who is wrong, but also right?

Apparently I’m in a Transformers mood today. There’s an episode where the Autobots’ medic/second in command does the whole “desperate scientist tests their invention on themselves with horrible results” trope and he gains the strength and speed he otherwise hasn’t had in like, eons, and starts kicking ass and taking names (and committing war crimes) to the point where his team is like “uh, buddy, slow down a bit, you’re starting to act like a Decepticon”.

The best part of that episode is where Ratchet (medic) completely unloads on Optimus about how he’s too soft, about how he’s had a million chances to end the war and murder Megatron (which is true) and yet Optimus lets the window pass again and again still hoping for Megatron’s redemption… while in the process, countless Autobots keep dying, collateral keeps happening, all because Optimus is stubborn and won’t just get it over with.

We know Ratchet is right, because throughout the next season, Optimus is a bit more… shall we say, ruthless, in trying to legitimately end the war, Megatron’s redemption be damned. But that episode ends with Ratchet nearly dying when trying to kill Megatron himself, and understanding that the Autobots are Autobots for a reason, because they’re “good,” and sinking to the enemy’s level won’t be a good foundation for a peaceful post-war survival of their species. Point being, sometimes being a Paragon is an incredibly selfish virtue.

5. Parents who know what’s up

So, while I am a firm supporter in the dead parent cliché because parents are super inconvenient sometimes, when it’s not that kind of story and the parents are a big part of the plot… while also being idiots (like Disney and Nickelodeon sitcoms circa 2008), just to make the kids sound smarter, it’s just been done to death. Everything you could think of, your parents probably did when they were your age so having competent parents in the plot as a well-meaning obstacle that continues to surprise the hero is pretty rare in stuff like YA. Usually it’s “I must lie to them to keep them safe” meanwhile Sally Jackson is over here murdering her husband with Medusa’s severed head.

They don’t have to join the hero team, but parents painted as bumbling idiots is a disservice to the mischievous teenagers they used to be. Or just the parent who really does know the kid better than they do, like when kids anxiously come out and the parent is like “honey I knew since you were 3 let’s go get ice cream”. I didn't watch Glee but that one dad who was like "son all you wanted was a pair of sensible shoes, I knew." So yeah. Smart parents. More please.

#writing advice #writing #writing resources #writing a book #writing tools #writing tips #writeblr #character development #character design #tropes #cliches

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xoxo-author · 1 year ago

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What happens in Vegas, does not stay in Vegas

Hello! I am back! Work and the real world have been kicking my ass. not to mention writer's block! Anyway, here's a little story that I have been daydreaming about forever.

Jake Seresin x FemReader

Warnings: Language, shitty writing, mentions of drinking, suggestive, made up laws

There were four things I was sure of before I even opened my eyes this morning.

1. I was going to have the worst hangover in the history of hangovers.

2. I was never drinking again.

3. Number 2 is a lie

4. I need to ask the hotel where they got their blankets because they seemed to be heated and weighted so I need one.

I couldn't remember what I drank, how much I drank last night. or what we even did.

There was no doubt that coming to Vegas for a bachelor and bachelorette party would be crazy, I knew that as soon as I saw where we were going, but I didn't think we'd end up straight out of a scene from The Hangover.

I lay there for a little while longer, trying to get up the nerve to open my eyes. I knew that once I did, my headache would set in and I don't think I was ready for that.

After a few minutes, I felt myself starting to fall back asleep but before I could, the weight on top of me began to move. Panic rises through me as I thought it was a weighted blanket this whole time.

Once my eyes adjust, my gaze lands on a very hungover, possibly still drunk, Jake Seresin sitting up on his knees. His hair was all over the place, nothing on but a pair of Calvin Klein briefs, hands rubbing his eyes.

"What the fuck did we do last night?"

Jake startles, head whipping up to look at me, but recovers quickly. A smirk slides onto his face and he opens his mouth to say something but I quickly hold up my hand to stop him. I was in no mood to hear one of his comments. Taking in his attire, or lack thereof, my mind begins to race.

My eyes widen as I quickly pull up the blanket that was covering my body. I was in one of Jake's t-shirts so that was a good sign but my relief was short-lived as I came to see that my underwear has seemingly gone mia.

I push myself up to a sitting position, throwing my hands up to cover my face, "Do you remember anything from last night?"

"You mean, did we have sex?"

Rolling my eyes behind my hands, "Yes, Hangman, did we have sex or not?"

I didn't have to look at him to know that he was smirking, "Can you walk?"

My hands fall away from my face, giving him the most confused face I could muster, "What does my ability to walk have to do with anything?"

Leaning back on his hands, "Princess, if we had sex last night, there's no way you'd be able to walk this morning."

Closing my eyes, I let out a huge sigh, "Now is not the time for games, Hangman."

"I'm just telling you the truth, ask any of the girls I've taken home."

I open my eyes to look at him, "There's not enough time in the world to go through that list."

He rolls his eyes but says nothing else.

As the silence rolls over the room, I let my eyes wander around. I was definitely in Hangman's room, his stuff was thrown everywhere, it smelled like him, and it had a different view of the strip than mine did. My attention is brought back to Hangman as he drags a hand down his face. My eyes are drawn to his fingers, specifically his ring finger, "Hangman, what's on your finger?"

His eyebrows furrow as he pulls his hand away from his face to look, "Is that a wedding ring?"

A black shiny band wraps around his finger. His ring finger.

"Who the hell did I marry?"

A sinking feeling settles in my stomach as the words leave his mouth. Slowly, I look down at my hands that rested on my lap. I turn my hand so I could see the back of my hand, my eyes are immediately drawn to the ring that rested on my finger. My ring finger.

I look back up at Hangman, whose brows were furrowed and whose gaze was locked on the ring on my hand, "This is a joke right?"

Hangman didn't say anything, just continued to stare, so he was useless at the moment.

Flinging the blanket off, I throw my legs off the side of the bed and push myself up. I head over to the dresser and begin to open the drawers, "Hangman, where are your underwear?'

Glancing over my shoulder, Hangman still sat on the bed staring at my empty spot. "Hangman!"

He turns to look at me, a very confused look on his face. "I need a pair of underwear to wear so we can go find our friends who will hopefully tell us that this was just a joke and that they snuck in here and placed the rings on our fingers while we were sleeping."

He points over to the closet but doesn't say anything. I rush over and throw the doors open, quickly grabbing a pair of his boxers and pulling them on before heading to the bathroom. I put some toothpaste onto my finger before quickly "brushing" my teeth.

Hangman had pulled on a pair of sweats and was pulling on a t-shirt when I walked out of the bathroom.

Neither of us said a word as we made our way towards the front door where we find a note from Bob, saying to meet them in the buffet room.

All but throwing open the door, I quickly make my way down the hall and towards the elevator with Hangman trailing behind me.

The words from my ex repeating in my head, if you get with anyone else I'll have no choice but... my thoughts were interrupted by the ding of the elevator.

The elevator ride seemed to go on forever. Neither Hangman nor I said anything to each other. It was like Hangman and I hated each other but we weren't friends either. I was introduced to the group through Coyote. Hangman had tried his usual tricks to get into my pants and I didn't fall for it. I think I was the only one who didn't fall for him and he wasn't used to it.

The lobby was already busting with people by the time we got here, I couldn't tell if people were going or if their night had just ended.

Hangman and I begin to make our way towards the buffet room but we didn't get very far, "Mr. and Mrs. Seresin!"

I turn my head and see the front desk lady looking in our direction. I stared at her for a few seconds before bringing a finger up to point at me. She nods and enthusiastically waves us over.

I grab Hangman's arm and begin to drag him over to the front desk.

"Mr. and Mrs. Seresin! Good morning!"

The lady's smile falters for a brief second but returns to its over-the-topness, "I was just about to give you a call! The chapel called and they requested that I copy of the marriage license be mailed to the address in San Diego and that it was successfully filed this morning!"

**********

The lawyer sets the marriage license down before leaning back in his chair, running a hand over his face, "To be honest, there is nothing we can do."

I'm pretty sure my eyes about fell out of my skull.

"There are laws in place here in San Diego, specifically towards those who get married in Vegas and shotgun weddings. Basically, to not waste the court's time, those who get married like you two did have to be married a full year before they can file for divorce."

I take a deep breath in, leaning my head against my hand, "So we can't get divorced for a year?"

Nodding, the lawyer leans forward, glancing back and forth between Hangman and me, "You will have to prove that you two really gave it a shot, and if at the end of the year, you don't feel the same then you will be granted a divorce. You do have to do the things married couples do like live together, attend therapy, go out, and whatever else they do. You will have random visits by a court-appointed person to ensure that you both are giving this a go. Any questions Mr. and Mrs. Seresin?"

#Jake Seresin #Hangman #Top Gun #Top Gun Maverick #TGM #Jake Hangman Seresin #TGM fic #tgm imagine #Jake Seresin x reader #Hangman x reader #jake seresin fic #Hangman Fic #Hangman top gun #Hangman series

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valleyof-goldenlilies · 1 year ago

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Se Zaldrizoti’ Prumia - Chapter 7: Father and Daughter (Daemon Targaryen x Tyrell!Reader)

Chapter 7: Father and Daughter

A hunt, a reunion, and a conflict. A normal day in Westeros then.

HOTD Masterlist | Main Masterlist |

Warnings: Nothing of note, save for parental trauma and a notable lack of Daemon shenanigans.

Word Count: 5.8k words

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire and Blood characters, save for Y/N Tyrell, although I did expand on their characterisation, which might deviate from canon. All credit for the characters goes to George RR Martin and the showrunners of HOTD. The GIF above is also not mine, original credit to the creator is stated above. Go check them out!

A/N: OH MY GOD IM ALIVE???? Yeah, it appears I am 😭 I'm so sorry about the long wait on this chapter, the past two weeks have been wild for me ever since I came back from my vacation. 1. My dad crashed his car? 2. I had like five projects due during the past two weeks and I had to write in a report and evaluation about my project groupmate who essentially did nothing 😐 if I could beat someone's ass without getting suspended, istg... 3. I've been suffering from a lot of chest pains recently, which kinda stopped me from doing my thing for a while 4. I had insane writers block for like a week and it was horrid 😖 but luckily, I'm back now, and hopefully updating more often! And also I've learnt that my classmate is following me on tumblr, I am a little mortified, but hello regardless. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! 💕 no Daemon cameo unfortunately, but he'll be back next chapter, and messier than ever.

lovely dividers credited to @firefly-graphics !

109 years after Aegon's Conquest

The doors to the room burst open, and you stepped in, a little out of breath. Lord Hobert Hightower and the Hand, who were standing closest to the doorway, were engrossed deep in conversation when you walked in, and you heard something along the lines of “It’s only a matter of time before Viserys names him heir.” You try not to frown at that, nodding politely to them before heading over to the crowd gathered over at the other side of the room, cooing at the heir in question: little Aegon, who was celebrating his second nameday.

“Ah, Y/N!” Viserys exclaimed happily, gesturing for you to come and stand between him and Alicent, whose face was radiant with happiness. Viserys signalled for the wet nurse to step forward, and before you knew it, little Aegon was in your arms, babbling in that toddler frenzy of his. The assemblage of lords and ladies stepped closer to you, much to your discomfort, as you forced a cheerful smile and bounced Aegon up and down in your arms, which made him squeal with delight. “I fear that Aegon might come to see you as his mother sooner or late, Y/N, given how much he adores you.” Viserys claimed. You flush at his words, and Alicent soon steps in, smiling, “Tis true. Aegon always perks up when he’s in your arms.” You were sure you would melt into a puddle if you were subject to any more of their compliments. “You flatter me, Your Graces.”

In the periphery of your vision, you saw Ser Tyland Lannister attempt to get Viserys’ attention, and you handed back a now fussing Aegon to his nursemaid. Alicent shuffled over to the feast table, and she smiled brightly as you approached. Placing a hand on her swollen belly, your heart fluttered with delight when you felt a slight kick. Though the horrors of childbirth still plagued your mind, being there for Alicent’s relatively smooth birth with Aegon had made your fears lessen a little.

“How’s the babe?” you ask. “Only active when you’re here, it seems,” Alicent laughed. “They never seem to kick for anyone else other than you. I think they will adore you as much as Aegon does.” You chuckle, stroking Alicent’s belly gently. “What if the kicking is a sign that the babe will dislike me?” Alicent patted your hand, “Definitely not. I have no doubt in my mind that you will be dear to the babe.” she said with conviction. You blush at her words, “You flatter me, Your Grace.”

“Can someone tell me where in the Seven Hells Rhaenyra might be?” Viserys’ frustrated bellow drew you and Alicent out of your tender moment. Alicent’s face twisted with worry, and you were sure your face was a mirror image of hers. “You came in later than the rest of us. Did you see Rhaenyra anywhere?” You shake your head glumly, “She wasn’t in her chambers, or her apartments.” Alicent sighed in exasperation, “Viserys has questioned nearly every courtier in the room, and not a single one of them has a clue. Where might she be?” You chewed your lip, thinking back to the snippet of conversation you had overheard between the Hand and Lord Hobert. “She’s upset right now. The two of you were…” You refrained from finishing the sentence when you saw Alicent wince. “Do you have any inkling on where she might go to cool off?” “I don’t belie-” A look of realisation dawned in Alicent’s eyes. “You know somewhere?” You ask her urgently. Alicent nodded, “I’ll go find her. You should stay and satiate yourself before the journey.” “Are you sure?” You ask her, concerned. Alicent squeezed your hand gently. “Don’t worry about me. I think I can get Rhaenyra to see reason.”

You glance pensively at Alicent’s retreating figure. Sighing, you approached the refreshments table, smiling gratefully as a servant handed you a plate with some slices of roast pork. You heard your name being called, and turned around to find Viserys. “Your Grace-” you moved to curtsy, but Viserys stopped you, “I told you, no need for such stuffy courtesies when you are with me.” You smiled wryly, “I thought it wouldn’t apply in a room full of courtiers.” Viserys waved away your words, “You are my family, Y/N. There are no such constraints within your own kin.” You smile sadly at the word ‘family’. It was a little sad to say, but you definitely did feel more of a kinship with the current members of House Targaryen over those of your own house.

“Speaking of kin,” Viserys’ voice turned serious. “I am in need of a favour from you, Y/N.” You snapped to attention. “Whatever you need, Viserys.” He sighed, looking mournful and irritated at the same time. “It has been nigh three years since I have wedded Alicent. Time after time, I have tried to approach Rhaenyra, but she shuns me away every single time. The rare chances she actually sits down and listens, she sulks like a child and only provides me with short responses.” Viserys sighed again, whatever sadness he had turning into disappointment and exasperation. “This is not the way the heir to the Iron Throne should behave.” He looked at you beseechingly, “I implore you, Y/N. I believe what Rhaenyra needs is for a motherly figure to talk to her, and persuade her to abandon such foolish antics. I fear Alicent would not be able to serve such a role, since Rhaenyra’s ire is directed at the both of us. But you,” You swallowed nervously. “I’ve seen how close Rhaenyra kept you after Aemma’s death. For months, apart from Alicent, you were her closest confidant. I know naught of what has transpired between the two of you, but I believe you to be the best person for this tiresome task. Will you do methis favour?”

Your expression was resigned, but you forced out a smile nonetheless. “But of course. I will do my best, Viserys.” He closed his eyes in relief, clapping you on the shoulder. “I knew I could count on you, Y/N. Thank you.” You gave a tentative smile back, painfully aware of the numerous eyes glued to the both of you. What you failed to notice, however, were the heavy gazes of Otto and Hobert Hightower on you.

An awkward silence weighed upon the royal wheelhouse as it made its way to the Kingswood. You glance uncomfortably between Viserys, Alicent, and Rhaenyra, watching with some pity as Viserys attempted to make conversation with his irascible and sullen daughter. A miniature dragon thrust in your face soon drew your attention however, and you looked down to frown admonishingly at little Aegon, who blinked his wide violet eyes at you innocently. The little devil, you were sure he was trying to garner your attention on purpose. Earlier, he had been weeping inconsolably, much to the nursemaid’s and Alicent’s distress. But when you had taken him into your arms, he had ceased his tears immediately and gave you a cherubic smile, which made Alicent give you a knowing smile and Rhaenyra to look at the both of you in disdain. The expression of disdain had yet to depart from Rhaenyra, as you played patiently with Aegon, flying his dragon miniature around him and smiling as the toddler spun his head around to follow the motions of the dragon with rapt fascination.

The tension in the wheelhouse was not lightening in the slightest bit, as Viserys began talking about Rhaenyra giving him grandchildren, of all things. You had to stop yourself from groaning in exasperation. If Viserys truly wanted to reconnect with Rhaenyra again, why was he digging himself into an even bigger hole? He should know that after Aemma, Rhaenyra would be disinclined to entertain notions of childbirth. You wanted to put your head in your hands, but Aegon poked you in the cheek.

“No one’s here for me!” Rhaenyra’s angry outburst halted all activity in the wheelhouse, including Aegon’s. You froze, looking up at Rhaenyra, but her bitter gaze was focused solely on her father. All of you endured the rest of the ride in silence.

The rocking of the wheelhouse soon came to an end. You remained seated as Viserys and Alicent stepped out to the raucous cheers of the crowd, allowing Aegon’s nursemaid to take him from your arms. You remembered Viserys’ plea, and took in Rhaenyra’s wistful expression. “Hail, hail! Aegon the Conqueror babe, Second of His Name!” You grimace when you hear the tasteless remark.

Rhaenyra’s fists were clenched at her sides, and her eyes were shut. With frustration, or with sadness, she didn’t know. Suddenly, she felt a gentle hand taking her fisted hand and unclenching it. She didn’t need to open her eyes to see who it was. “I don’t need your pity.” Rhaenyra tried to sound snappy, but her voice was hoarse. You didn’t answer, instead intertwining your fingers with Rhaenyra. She reluctantly opened her eyes, only to see you directing a hostile glare to the outside commotion, as more and more voices heralded Aegon as the Second of His Name. Rhaenyra couldn’t help but smile at that, letting some of the tension seep out of her muscles.

At least there was someone in her dark and lonely corner, even if that someone’s trustworthiness had yet to be ascertained.

You were sitting next to Alicent, as she held court with the various noble ladies who had attended the hunt. You listened, silently sipping from your goblet as they conversed about the ongoing war in the Stepstones. You watched as Larys Strong and Rhaenyra soon joined in the conversation, though a slight frown of distaste was soon visible on your face, when Lady Lannister and Lady Redwyne in particular, began picking on Rhaenyra. You had to hide a smirk when Rhaenyra made a well-directed jab at Lady Redwyne, and the smirk only widened when you saw her pig-faced dog gobble greedily at the cake on her plate. How fitting.

“You know, Lady Y/N.” Your head snapped up as Lady Redwyne addressed you. She had a displeased look on her face: clearly she hadn’t missed your smirk at her expense. “I was…pleasantly surprised to hear Her Grace appointed you as her chief lady-in-waiting.” Your eyes narrowed, your dormant prickly nature coming to life once more. “It was a great honour, Lady Joselyn. One that I am greatly grateful to Her Grace for.”

Lady Redwyne gave you a smile, that you knew from all your years of court politics, was filled with ill intent. “I must say, if you were out in the battlefield fighting on the Stepstones, the war would be won by now.” You felt Alicent stiffen next to you, and you instinctively reached out to put your hand on hers. “What are you insinuating, Lady Redwyne?” Alicent’s tone was sharper than usual. Lady Redwyne attempted to school her features back to deference, but her lips were curved upwards. “Forgive me, Your Grace. I was not attempting to insinuate anything. It was a compliment to Lady Y/N.” You levelled a fierce glare at her, but she seemed unaffected, looking at you straight in the eye. “It is a well known fact that she and Prince Daemon had tempers that rivalled each other. With such willfulness, she would make a formidable opponent on the battlefield, would she not?”

You were about to deliver an equally cutting and backhanded response, but you were surprised when you heard Rhaenyra speak up once more, “Yes, Lady Redwyne. But as luck would have it, she is the Queen’s lady-in-waiting now.” Rhaenyra’s tone was acidic. “And I am certain that she will carry out her duties with skill and grace. The Queen will not be able to find someone as capable as her.”

The ladies were stunned that Rhaenyra had spoken up for you, none more so than you and Alicent. “The princess is right. Lady Y/N has been a dutiful lady-in-waiting and companion. The Seven have truly blessed me with her.” Your eyes water with gratitude, as Lady Redwyne and the other ladies fall silent after both the princess and the queen’s swift defence of you.

So this was what kinship felt like.

Night had fallen, and the air was ablaze with the smell of smoke. You had sat faithfully by Alicent all day, as she entertained lords and ladies alike. You had not seen Rhaenyra in quite some time though, and you worry about where she could have wandered off to. Your anxiety only increased tenfold when you saw Viserys’ goblet never straying from his hand, and he had been lifting it to his lips moreso after his conversations with the Hand, Jason Lannister, and Lyonel Strong, in particular. Alicent was clearly on edge as well, her brown eyes watchful as she witnessed her husband lose himself in his cups. When Viserys abruptly left the tent after a brief, yet intense conversation with Lyonel Strong, Alicent got up to go after him, but you gently pushed her back down to her seat, giving her a reassuring look. She should not need to see her husband in such a misbegotten state, while in her pregnancy, you thought to yourself, as you wrapped your shawl around you, shivering in the cold night air.

You eventually found Viserys by the huge bonfire, downing yet another goblet of wine, while being guarded by two Kingsguard. They nodded at you as you passed. You went straight to Viserys, taking the cup whilst he was distracted. “I think that’s enough for you tonight, Viserys.” Your voice was soft, yet firm. He gave you an enervated smile. “The night is cold, you shouldn’t be out here.” You hand the goblet over to a Kingsguard. “Who will look after you, then? And make sure you do not drink yourself into a stupor?” Viserys laughed heartily, before he coughed. You reach for him, concerned. He stared into the flames, looking like he wanted to step into them himself. “Y/N.” “Hmm?” Viserys took a deep breath, trying to control the slurring in his voice. “What do you think is the foundation of House Targaryen’s strength?”

You tilt your head to the side questioningly, “That is a trick question, right? Of course, the answer is House Targaryen’s dragons.” Viserys smiled ruefully, turning over to face you. You were taken aback by the blazing intensity, perhaps even madness in his eyes. “You’re wrong, Y/N. It began with a dream.” He turned back to face the fire. “When Daenys the Dreamer had the dream that prophesied the end of the Valyrian Freehold, that dream saved House Targaryen. While all the other dragonlords were destroyed, it was only us who survived.” “I know of that tale. Your grandsire told us that tale when we were younger.”

Viserys didn’t seem to hear you, however, his bleak gaze still on the fire. “In my line, many had been dragonriders. Very few among us have been dreamers. What is the power of dragons, next to the power of prophecy?” You shivered, and not because of the cold. Yet you continue listening. “When Rhaenyra was a child, I saw it in a dream. As vivid as these flames, I saw it. A male babe, born to me, wearing the Conqueror’s crown. And I so wanted it to be true, to be a dreamer myself. I sought that vision again, night after night…but it never came again. I poured all my thought and will into it. And my obsession killed Aemma.” You looked away at that, your heart wrenched with grief. “I thought Rhaenyra was the way out of my abyss of grief and regret. That naming her heir would set things right.”

“Are you saying you regret naming Rhaenyra heir then?” Viserys looked grieved. “Oftentimes, yes…I have. I worried that I had named Rhaenyra out of anger towards Daemon, not out of love, or for the good of the realm.” He moved to grip your shoulders, tears in his eyes. “Y/N, I never imagined that I would remarry. That I would have a son. What if…what if I was wrong all along?”

You stared into his despair-filled eyes. “I cannot tell you if you’re wrong, Viserys. There are only two paths ahead of you now, and as King, you must be prepared to take one, and soon.” Viserys chuckles, drooping his head. “What if I’m not sure what path I should take?” Your voice was quiet. “Then the realm will descend into chaos.”

The both of you were silent, staring at each other in the firelight. While you couldn’t say that you approved of Viserys’ decisions in the past three years, after all this, he was your friend, and he was just a mere mortal, plagued by regrets, grief, and hesitation. Just like you, and everyone else. Even kings were not infallible to weakness, you surmised. And in that moment, there was a mutual understanding and grievance shared between the both of you: the burden of choice.

The morrow brought about clear skies and sun, much to the delight of the lords partaking in the hunt. It did not alleviate your worries however, as Rhaenyra still had not returned to the encampment. You found yourself milling about today, much too tired to suffer the thinly veiled jabs the fellow noblewomen were directing at you about your infamous temper.

You were dressed in a simpler riding outfit today, to mingle around with the various smallfolk and merchants that had set up stalls in the encampment, hoping eagerly to attract some lord’s attention and earn a few gold dragons. You beamed as you sampled a rather delicious roast pork skewer, giving the stall owner - a rather plump woman - two golden dragons, much to her glee. You strode back to the main tent, feeling satisfied, when you suddenly heard the sound of hooves. You turned your head as a palomino horse skidded to a halt, and a familiar man, with more grey hairs than he had the last time you saw him, dismount from the horse and take off his riding gloves. His eyes light up as soon as he catches sight of you, and without giving you a window to escape, he strode towards you. You chew your lip in dread as he approached.

“Father.”

“Y/N.” He beams at you, his eyes crinkled at the corners. You smile awkwardly at him, fidgeting with your fingers. His smile falters a little when he notices your hesitation. “I haven’t seen you in years, daughter. Does this momentous occasion not warrant a hug?” You inwardly sigh, and reach out to embrace your father. Your father grins at you as you pull away after an awkward pause. “You have grown, daughter. You look beautiful.” “You flatter me, Father.” “Come, walk with me. We have much to talk about.” You swallowed, but followed as he set out for the forested edge of the campground.

The both of you strode in silence for a while, before you ventured to break the silence. “The King didn’t mention you would be joining us for the hunt, Father. Why the sudden change of heart?” He sighed. “Can an old man not choose to be in nature once in a while?” “Of course you can, father. I was just concerned: you are no longer in the pink of health, and riding all the way from Highgarden to the Kingswood is a gruelling journey.” Your father waved his hand dismissively. “Twas nothing. I might be getting on in my years, but I recently found a new source of reinvigoration.”

“Oh?” you cocked your head curiously. You sincerely hoped the new source of reinvigoration was not a new bid for your hand. Your father smiled, “I recently remarried to Lady Clarice of House Fossoway.” Seeing your confused look, he hurried to clarify. “Of Cider Hall.” Surprise creased your features. “But…wasn’t that Mother’s maiden house? Lady Clarice was her cousin, was she not?” Your father’s smile was beginning to look strained. “Does it matter, daughter? What matters is that I am happy with her, is it not? And I am certain she will give me strong sons soon.” You regard him with a degree of caution, noting the shift in his voice. In your years of dealing with court politics, you could instinctively tell when a situation was about to go from bad to worse. “I did not know you had any plans on remarrying after Mother’s death.”

“And whose fault is that, daughter?” Your father’s tone turned chiding. “I know you’ve been ignoring all the ravens I’ve sent to you over the past few years. Specifically, those with letters attached from me pleading for you to just find yourself a match at court or select one of the eligible lords in the lists I sent you.” You blushed, looking sheepish. Matthos sighed. “Daughter, you are no longer young. It is past time you are wed. I only want what’s best for you.”

“But-” you blurted out, “What if I don’t think getting married is what’s best for me, Father?” Your father looked askance at that. “What else could a young lady such as yourself desire other than marriage?” You bit your lip, “Father, the truth is…I do not think I have a desire to wed now…or ever.” You were beginning to get anxious as your father’s face lost some of his paternal tenderness. “Five years. I had hoped that our time apart had given you some time to reflect on your…misconceptions.” He gripped your shoulders, an intense blaze in his eyes as your heart began to thud with dread. “The matter of marriage is not one that you can dismiss so easily anymore, Y/N. It entails the survival and future of House Tyrell. You must do your duty and wed a respectable lord, for the sake of our house.” Though you had heard those words aplenty, today, it was like something uninhibited had seized control of you, as you burst out. “Why should I care about doing my duty to House Tyrell?” you snapped. “I have made it clear that it is not my intention to ever take a husband, now and in the foreseeable future. You claim this is all done for my own happiness. So why can’t you just respect my wishes?”

“Because you are not just some poxy peasant who can gallivant about as you please. You are my daughter!” You were shocked when your father suddenly raised his voice. Trepidation had dimmed your previous righteousness. He tightens his grip on your shoulders, his expression filled with an anger you had never glimpsed before. This…this was not the father you remember. The father you knew had never once raised his voice at you, always treating you with patience as his only child. Though he was prone to bouts of frustrated pleading when you did not acquiesce to his wishes to get married, he had never once shouted at you like that. Or even gripped your shoulders with such forcefulness you feared he might strike you. “You are just as useless as your late mother.” You were stunned, your eyes searing with hot tears. “Do not insult Mother like that. She was the most wonderful woman-” “Wonderful, you say?” your father snorted. “If she were so wonderful, then she would have provided me with a strong and healthy son to succeed me! Instead, she left me with a daughter who is ungrateful and strangely determined to remain a spinster all her life.” he spat out the words with such vitriol that you were taken aback. “If she were so wonderful,” your father continued with his rant. “Then would House Tyrell be in imminent danger of collapsing, all because the only heirs I have are your incompetent, doltish cousins who will run the legacy our ancestors and I have built to the ground?” He moved to clasp your hand tightly in his, looking desperate and angry all at once. “Daughter, your father is imploring you. You must get wed, and provide me with a grandson. You cannot let House Tyrell go to ruin.” You stare at him, feeling beleaguered. “Do my wishes mean nothing to you?” “This is because your wishes are obscenely unreasonable, Y/N.” your father snaps. “It is practically unheard of for a woman of your status to not wed.” “It is not!” you insisted, “I am the chief lady-in-waiting to the Queen now, I have duties I must perform. And there have been histories of lords whose daughters were largely spinsters. Moreover, you have remarried.” Your voice became desperate as you tried to make your father see reason. “Lady Clarice is young, she will give you many sons in due time. Suitable heirs to Highgarden. I do not understand why you are putting all this pressure on me.” You took a deep breath, preparing to make your final stand. “I want to enjoy the rest of my youth, Father. Not to sit in a castle, entrapped in a loveless marriage and pumping out potential heirs for my husband and for you. I want to live my life, free of constraints.” You looked at him, unshed tears in your eyes. “Please, father. This is the one thing I have ever asked of you, and that is to respect my wishes.”

Matthos was silent for a long while, and you held hope, briefly, that you might have gotten through to him with your pleading. “Foolish, insolent girl!” Your hopes were dashed as your father flung off your hand, shouting at you. “How can you be so selfish? To not take responsibility in ensuring the continuation of our house’s line?” “That is your responsibility, not mine!” you shouted back. Seeing that pleas would not get to your father now, you resorted to fighting fire with fire instead. “Had you really cared about continuing our house’s bloodline, you would’ve remarried years ago!” You could see how your shouts were drawing the attention of some courtiers, given how close the both of you were to the camp for royals. You heard the faint sound of hooves behind you, but you ignored them, too engrossed in your argument with your father. “Producing heirs is a lord’s responsibility. So if you are accusing me of not doing my duty, you should first be reprimanding yourself.”

Your father’s face grew red. “You little brat! How dare you say these things about your father!” “I spoke only the truth,” you shot back. He raised his hand, and for a moment you were afraid he was going to slap you for your outburst. Instead, he went to grip your shoulders again, “For years, I have raised you, clothed you in the finest silks, fed you, and put up with your ridiculous whims and wants! I’ve been patient, I’ve been loving and understanding when you rejected all the marriage offers you received. I’ve pleaded, and even given you the time and freedom to find a more suitable match at court. Yet you cannot even perform your duty as my daughter. No longer.” Your heart stuttered a little. “What do you mean?” Your father gave you a cold look. “I’m saying, if you do not get married by the end of the year, you are no longer my daughter.” Your eyes widen with horror. “I will effectively disown and disinherit you from House Tyrell, and if I sire any children by Lady Clarice, they shall not support you either.”

Your voice was tremulous, “Father, you…you cannot be serious. Do not let your anger cloud your judgement.” Matthos Tyrell looked at his daughter, his face one of disgust. “You wanted to enjoy your youth without constraints. And since you seem to enjoy being lady-in-waiting to the Queen so much, I’m only granting you what you wished for, am I not?”

You stepped back, feeling winded by your father’s words. However, you nearly jumped when you felt a familiar hand on your shoulder. “Ah, Y/N!” You were not sure whether you felt more mortified or relieved for Viserys’ timely presence. “Your Grace!” Immediately, your father’s distaste gave way to deference, as he straightened his posture and bowed before the King. You inclined your head respectfully, wondering if Viserys had overheard your conversation. “Forgive me for interrupting your conversation.” Oh, he definitely overheard.

“There’s nothing to forgive, Your Grace. I am delighted to be in your presence.” Your father gushed on profusely, as Viserys stepped toward him. You hung your head, still abashed by your father’s threats, when you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder once more. Alicent smiled at you understandingly, and you grimaced when you realised she had also overheard the unpleasant exchange. Still, you shot her a grateful look for her show of support.

“I must offer you my sincerest felicitations for Prince Aegon’s second nameday, Your Grace.” Viserys laughed, “Your felicitations are greatly appreciated, Lord Matthos. I must extend you mine as well, for your recent remarriage. I see it is treating you well.” Your father beamed, “You are too kind, Your Grace. And indeed, my lady wife pleases me so. Now, the only thing that would make me the happiest man in the realm would be my daughter finally settling down with a respectable match.” You stiffened at that, something Alicent took notice of, and she offered you a sympathetic look. Viserys chuckled, “That you and I can both agree on, Lord Matthos. There is nothing more I desire right now than seeing Rhaenyra being wed to a deserving man who will treat her right.”

“Oh, I am sure Her Grace will have her pick of men. She is ‘The Realm’s Delight’, after all. Any man who weds her will be a lucky one.” Your father’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial tone, as he glanced at you. “Moreover, Her Grace is young, comely, and lovely to behold.” Matthos sighed, shaking his head as he chuckled, “Mine own daughter is not in possess of such qualities, I’m afraid. She is getting on with her years, and though I love her deeply, as her father, I must admit she has quite a temper on her. She's not quite the attractice match, which gives me a headache,” Matthos jested with the King, causing you to wince and look away. Alicent looked disconcerted at your father’s tasteless jesting, tightening her hold on your shoulder. However, the both of you did not notice the flare of annoyance behind Viserys’ eyes, so his next words surprised the both of you.

“Lady Y/N has been nothing but a delight to have at court, Lord Matthos. In spite of her age, I’m sure she has no shortage of suitors.” Viserys’ voice was amiable, polite, yet it carried an undertone of firmness and reprimand such that Matthos looked a little stunned, worried that he had overstepped. You looked back to the pair, your eyes wide with disbelief. “And should Y/N ever find herself unwilling to marry, the Red Keep will always welcome her. She is like family to me, after all.” Your father fell silent, and you locked eyes with Viserys, looking lost, yet appreciative all the same. Viserys gave you a reassuring smile, and you could see the sincerity behind his intent. Your eyes prickled with touched tears, but the moment was interrupted when you heard shouts across the campground, startling your party. You turned around, only to behold the sight of Rhaenyra, stained head to toe with dried blood, a commanding aura in her swagger as her sworn shield, Ser Criston, trailed behind her, along with two servants carrying a dead boar. You lock eyes with her momentarily, and she gives a small nod of acknowledgement to you, although her eyes turned cold when they looked upon her father. You heard Viserys sigh, and you saw how Viserys looked both annoyed and relieved for Rhaenyra’s safety, while your father just looked bewildered, perhaps even a little scared. Despite yourself, you smiled a little at the scene.

Alicent and you were chatting in her chambers, laughing in hushed tones as you rocked Aegon to sleep in your arms, when the Hand entered the room, requesting to speak with Alicent. You handed a sleepy Aegon to his nursemaid, before curtsying and exiting the room, painfully aware of the Hand’s weighty gaze upon you as you did.

Alicent knew that her father had not visited her out of a gesture of goodwill, and as she listened to his rather maddening reasoning that Alicent should attempt to make her husband see reason and name Aegon heir, she only stayed silent. There was no point in countering back anyway - the Hand always seemed to have a dozen other reasons to quell her opposition. She felt uncomfortable, for speaking of this was treason, and the babe shifted in her belly, causing her to sigh.

Otto observed his daughter, noting with mild exasperation that she wasn’t paying heed to anything he was saying. So, he decided to change the subject. “About your lady-in-waiting…” he began. Alicent’s head snapped up, “What do you wish to discuss of Y/N?” Otto let a smile play over his lips: it was quite evident his daughter cared for the Tyrell lady, and from his further observations over the past three years, treated her akin to a maternal figure. Which might make it easier for her to accept what he proposed next. “I overheard a rather…interesting conversation she had, with Lord Matthos today.” Alicent showed no visible reaction, but she stared at her father, feeling an all-too-familiar feeling of dread settle in her gut. “I think half the campground overheard their argument. What of it?”

Otto hummed softly, “It seems her father is worrying about her marriage. Which is a reasonable worry - she is on the cusp of her twenty fifth nameday, is she not?” Alicent nodded slowly, eyeing her father with caution. She knew him all too well, how he was tapping his fingers on the armrests of his chair - he was scheming. She recalled how upset you were when you spoke with your father, citing your dreams to enjoy your youth and be freed of the constraints of marriage. In later years, she had come to both see you as a cherished companion and a parental figure of sorts, and she cared for you, deeply so. You were her only source of comfort in the Red Keep, one who did not expect or demand anything of her, someone she felt she could truly be open with. She glanced fearfully at her father.

She had to put an end to this. She must save you from suffering the same fate she did.

“Father…you are not planning on taking a new wife, are you?” Alicent fidgeted with her fingers nervously, her eyes fixed on Otto. He was quiet for a long while, and in response to her question, he only stood up and went over to his daughter, placing a hand on her swollen belly. His cryptic answer disturbed Alicent. “You worry too much over matters that do not need worrying about, daughter. Your concern now, should be Aegon. Raise him well, and raise him strong. He shall be an important man one day.”

Come the morrow, the Godswood was completely devoid of any life. Which proved to be a boon to you, who was seeking some reprieve from the busy atmosphere of the Red Keep and the somewhat maddening task of having to feed Aegon - due to his tendency of smooshing the food in the face of whomever had the misfortune of feeding him, most commonly you.

You sat on the stone bench, staring despondently at the Godswood tree. While you were never particularly religious, either to the Seven or to the Old Gods, the happenings of the hunt have driven you to pray with increasing fervency these days. What you prayed for, you did not know. Was it for the hope that your father’s heart might soften and he might be persuaded to leave you be for the rest of your life? You scoffed to yourself, knowing how improbable it was. Fiddling with the pendant - Aemma’s pendant, you sighed, tilting your head downwards to the ground.

You were startled when you heard movement next to you, of another soul taking a seat next to you on the bench, her posture ramrod straight, and her expression blank. Rhaenyra’s linen sleeves fluttered slightly in the breeze.

“I suppose neither of us are in the best of spirits,” Rhaenyra’s voice was stilted, like she was reluctant to break the silence first. You lifted your head upright, looking at her with a tentative smile, “No, I suppose we aren’t.” An awkward silence highlighted the chasm between the two of you. You wondered, had this truly been the girl of fourteen who confided in you about everything? Now, it seems there is a stark contrast to the Rhaenyra you once knew to the Rhaenyra before you. Though of course, you were to be blamed for that.

“My father has just ordered me to embark on a tour of the realm. A marriage tour.” Rhaenyra’s bitter tone roused you from your thoughts. “I do not know why I’m telling you this. Perhaps it’s because you are the only person in the Keep who might have the slightest sympathy for what I’m going through.” Rhaenyra’s voice lowered to a slightly malicious pitch, but there was no disguising the hurt behind her voice. “Or maybe it would be false sympathy. But it is better than none.”

You winced, wanting to reach out and take Rhaenyra’s hand, the way you knew she loved. Physical touch was Rhaenyra’s favourite way of receiving and expressing affection. A wane smile pulled at your lips as you heard her words, “You might be cynical, but I have more sympathies to your plight than you might think, Princess.” Rhaenyra was surprised by the resignation in your tone. She recalled the scene she had seen when she returned to the royal encampment at the hunt that day. “...does it have something to do with your father?”

You let out a sad laugh, “Indeed. I have been forced into a situation much more precarious than yours, I would say. My father has given me an ultimatum: I must wed by the end of this year, or I shall be effectively disinherited and disowned as a member of House Tyrell.” Rhaenyra’s eyes widened, her stance immediately shifting to one of sympathy and guilt. “Does your father jest?” “I’m afraid not,” you remark with a despaired, cynical laugh, “Father’s patience has worn thin when it comes to me, I’m afraid. I should’ve known it foolish to think that I could escape from the ramifications of duty to my House.”

You were a little mortified to find your eyes prickling with tears. In truth, you were frightened to the bone. Two paths were set in stone before you now, and neither were pleasant. Rhaenyra hesitated for a while, before reaching out to take your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. You were startled by her sudden gesture, as the flood of familiarity rushed through your veins. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, “This is a horrible situation to find yourself in.” She looked hesitant, “I know you’ve always been of your own mind, Y/N. I just want you to know…that you are not alone. Should the worst come…I’m sure that my father will not turn you away in your hour of need.” Her lips turned upwards wistfully, “I will not too. The both of us are stuck in similar predicaments, are we not? Daughters forced to marry off at our father’s behest. We must stick together.”

“...thank you,” you said quietly, touched, “I do not deserve your kindness, after all I have hidden from you.” Rhaenyra’s smile turns somewhat bitter, “What is done cannot be undone. What matters now is the future.”

The cool metal of Aemma’s pendant dug into the flesh of your palm, as an idea came to you. “I have something for you,” Rhaenyra’s eyebrows shot up and her eyes grew misty as you presented the ruby falcon pendant to her. “I think this belongs to you. I’ve been holding onto it for the past few years, but I think it’s time you have it back.” Rhaenyra takes the pendant, clasping it to her chest as she looked mournfully down at it. “I thought it was naught but ashes now.” You bit your lip, seeing how relieved yet pained Rhaenyra looked made you regret not giving it to her sooner. You had clung onto it for selfish reasons over the past few years, unwilling to let go of Aemma. But now, you felt it was time to let go of the past, and brave on into the future. “I hope that having this piece of Aemma would make you feel more comforted on your marriage tour.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes were misty, as she clasped the pendant like it was worth all the spice and gold from the shores of Essos. “Y/N.” Rhaenyra said quietly. “Hmm?” “Do you think…that Mother would’ve been proud of the person I am today?” Rhaenyra swallowed, looking downcast. “...I fear that, ever since I was named heir, since…Aegon was born, Father’s disappointment in me has been growing by the day.” “And why would you think that?” you asked, concerned. Rhaenyra took a shaky inhale, “I know that Father did not name me heir out of choice. It was a critical time, after Daemon had left, and the Realm would be plunged into unease upon the disinheritance of my uncle from the line of succession.” She bit her lip. “Father even told me as much. He said he had wavered at the notion of making me heir.” Your eyes flickered with shock and a little bit of righteous anger. “He said that?” Rhaenyra nodded miserably, and you patted her sympathetically on the shoulder. “He told me he would never waver again, but it is a little hard to put my faith in that, with….with Aegon’s shadow looming over me.” Rhaenyra sighed, tilting her head upwards. ”I just…I wish I could do something to be better. To prove to Father that I’m not just the right choice to the throne because he named me heir when he had no choice. I want to show him that I possess the qualities to rule the throne. The marriage tour would be a start, but I just detest the idea of having to bind myself to some lord to prove my worthiness to the throne.”

“I understand how you feel,” you commiserated, and she rested her head on your shoulder. “The expectations of a woman’s duty often cast a shadow over our lives.” Rhaenyra closed her eyes, feeling at ease with you, even if it were just for a brief moment. “Mother was fond of saying that marriage is a woman’s duty, and childbed is our battlefield. Especially as royal women,” Rhaenyra’s voice was thick with emotion. “I understand I must do this, for the good of the realm, but…why is it so terrifying? To have my worth determined on my husband and the number of children I can bear in service to him and the realm.” The setting sun glistened off a tear slowly making its way down Rhaenyra’s cheek. “Y/N, do you think my mother would be proud, watching me doubt her teachings?”

You reached out to wipe her tear away, your other hand’s thumb gently stroking her hand that you still held. “You are her daughter, Rhaenyra. I have no doubt that you could be the most dastardly miscreant, and she would be proud of you nonetheless.” That got a bleak smile from Rhaenyra, “Truly?” You nodded your confirmation, smiling fondly down at her. “Truly. Though luckily, your moral character is rather upright.” Rhaenyra laughed, and you smiled, happy to have made her laugh. “Thank you, Y/N. Truly. You have no idea how much that means to me.” Rhaenyra whispered to you.

The two women stayed like this in the Godswood for a while, each swarmed by their own thoughts. So different, yet so similar in their impending doom, and duty.

Taglist: @drwho-ess @graniairish @urmomsgirlfriend1 @thelittleswanao3 @animelover18 @llovinjoonie @gracielikegrapes @salembridger @itszzmoon @kmmg98 @travelingmypassion @zae5 @norestfortheshelbywicked @soleilgrec @anehkael @midnightprincess18 @lilith--666

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A/N: All I gotta say is: ruh roh, trouble is brewing. If you have made it this far, thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated. I aim to release chapter 8 by next Wednesday, hopefully something unprecedented doesn't happen before then though.

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elizabethwritesmen · 10 months ago

Text

The Devil Wears Lace

chapter 3 : February 14, 2023

pairing: simon “ghost” riley x reader

summary: simon still plagues your mind, so you’re overjoyed when he shows up at the bar on valentine’s day. you guys get a little closer, but the night ends on a bad note.

warnings: 18+ for eventual smut, pining, flirting, reader is assaulted, simon gets violent, i think that’s all but let me know if i missed anything!

series masterlist

February 14, 2023

Four months passed and I felt any hope I had of seeing Ghost again vanishing. It was pathetic, really, how I’d gotten so wrapped up in a man whose face I hadn’t even seen. A man that grunted more than he talked and was not personable at all. A man that likely wanted nothing to do with me. A man without a name.

I was honestly embarrassed of myself, ashamed that I’d become such a mess over a man. I was the one who was supposed to make men feel helpless. Not the other way around. But kicking up the flirting with my regulars seemed to help, plus it magnified my tips, along with the fact that my boss changed our uniform skirt from the mid thigh one we were accustomed to, to one that barely fell below our asses.

It was Valentine’s day, so I wanted to look extra special. It was always a great tip day, lonely people filling the tables up, getting drunk and tipping extra. Lonely men thinking they’ll have a chance if only they’re nice and give me more. So I painted my lips dark red, and slipped on some thigh high stockings with garters and a lace trim, sliding my black sneakers over them.

“Whew!” Sabrina exaggerated as I walked in the door that morning, “You look even better this year than you did last year!”

“Thanks, I try,” I winked, tapping her nose as I made my way behind the bar and clocked in.

The hours passed by until finally night fell. There had been copious amounts of loneliness, drinking, and tipping, just as I had predicted.

“Y’look different,” his voice was rough, like a callous on the hands of a hardworking man, and it shattered my insides on impact. I took a moment to steady myself from it before turning around from my position facing the bottles.

There he was, decked out with his mask on his face. I forgot how to breathe for a second, then choked out a small cough and did my best to appear normal and natural.

“Ghost,” I greeted, with a million dollar smile.

“New uniform?” his eyes fell to my legs, but only for a second, before meeting mine again.

“New skirt but the stockings are a personal touch.”

“Gotta give the men hell somehow, right?”

“Exactly, and these have been doin’ the trick,” I grinned, eyes on my legs, too shy to look at him.

“What’s goin’ on in that head o’ yours?” he asked, “You were all big and bad last time I saw you and now you’re shy?”

“I know I said this last time, but I didn’t think I was gonna see you again.”

He grunted in his usual way, ordering a whiskey neat and gesturing over to a table that his friends were crowded around when I handed it to him.

“They all want to say hello to you, whenever you have a chance to drop by,” he explained, and I nodded as all the boys turned towards me, proving his point. “You don’t have to, though. If they make you feel uncomfortable. I know they’re a lot.”

“I like them,” I shrugged, “They’re different than the other guys that come in here. You’re different too. It’s a nice change of pace.”

“You mean it’s nice that they’re not falling for all the shit you say?”

I had the audacity to look sheepish for a second before nodding, eyes trained on his, and he scoffed lightly and went on his way, barely sparing me a glance back. I grinned, victorious in the way I annoyed him. I wanted to annoy him and get under his skin.

“I see he’s back,” Sabrina spoke from beside me, eyeing up their table.

“Yeah.”

“Well, what’re you waiting for, Daph? Go solve the mystery!” she teased, and I rolled my eyes at her. “Seriously, girl, you’ve been here pining over him since the day he saved you. Go, talk to him!”

“I haven’t been pining over him.” My words were sharp, razor edged but turned feeble because I knew I was just being defensive. “I don’t pine over people.”

“You certainly never have before but there’s a first time for everything.”

I thought for a second, “This doesn’t mean I want him or anything. I don’t. I just need to get the flirting out of my system so that when he leaves this time, I won’t be wondering whether or not he’s ever gonna come back.”

“If that’s what you need to tell yourself,” she giggled, pushing me in the direction of them and slapping my ass on my way.

One of them I recognized as Gaz let out a slight whistle, “There she is!”

“Hey,” I offered, grin coy on my face.

“What’re you doin’ here all alone on Valentine’s Day?” he asked me.

“I’m working,” I furrowed my brows, gesturing around as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yeah, but you seem like the type of girl who’d have something to do today.”

“I do…” I hummed, stepping closer to them until I was leaning on the table, “I’m here to make lonely men who can’t keep a girlfriend feel better with booze so they’ll give me money.”

“Now that sounds more like you,” he laughed, and the others joined him, all except Ghost. His eyes just trained on me like they were supposed to be there.

“What’re all of you doing back? More ass to kick?” I turned away to distract myself with the other boys.

“Yeah, and Ghost insisted we come see you,” the other one, Soap, smirked, glancing at the Lieutenant, who stayed silent but his eyes were deadly.

“That’s cute,” I winked at him, “Of all the men that come in here, tall dark and deadly over there is my favorite.”

“You can tell us all about it when you get off and join us,” Gaz urged, and I sighed with a shake of my head.

“I’ve gotta close up tonight, boys. I’ll be here until 3.”

“Oh, we’ll probably stay that late anyway then so the Lieutenant can walk you to your car,” Soap’s voice was light, teasing, an edge to it and he didn’t dare look at Ghost. Smart move, because the glare he was receiving was positively fatal.

“Well if that’s the case,” I drawled, sliding up beside the man himself and giving his shoulder a little squeeze, something I’d not done before but it sent chills all over me the second my skin met the fabric of his clothes, “I’ll make sure to keep the drinks coming.”

“And the conversation!” They called after me as I walked away, and I threw them a wink over my shoulder.

I did as promised, rounding back to their table every so often. I didn’t want to do it too much, didn’t want to give Ghost the satisfaction, but I did it just enough to sate the feelings I’d been feeling for him before they overwhelmed me. I noticed how good he smelled, and just how large and built he was, and that didn’t make it any better as I found an excuse to touch him every time I went by their table. He seemed like a man that didn’t want to be touched but he must not have minded when I did it. He made eye contact with me every time though, his expression a warning to me. Tread lightly. But I never liked listening to warnings and I never liked playing by the rules, so I only got more brazen, until I’d slid one hand down his chest and taken his own hand in mine.

“It’s almost 3,” I observed, “You really gonna walk me to my car?”

“Do you think I need to?” his tone was teasing, and I fed right into it.

“Oh, yes, please. I’m so scared something will happen to me if I walk alone.” My voice was exaggerated, light and damsel-like for dramatic effect.

“You walk alone every night.”

“You don’t know that,” I countered, and his eyes snapped up, burning hot into mine.

“Oh, ‘s that right? You’re having these bumbling assholes from the bar walk you out? You’re not scared of them at all?”

“I can take care of myself, Ghost,” I sighed.

“Against a man who’s bigger than you and has combat training? A man you’ve teased for God knows how long that might finally want to get his hands on you?”

I leaned forward, lips a ghost on the fabric covering his ear, and whispered, “I dare any of them to try it.”

“You’re pretty cocky,” he grumbled.

“It’s always worked for me,” I shrugged with a wink as I pulled away from him.

A moment of silence passed before he spoke, as if he had to think about his words. Or maybe he just wanted to leave me in suspense. “Yes, I’m walking you to your car.”

“Good,” I hummed, walking away again. I hoped I was driving him as insane as he was driving me, all of the give and take between us becoming a lot to handle but I could do it and I knew he could keep up.

As I waited patiently for the clock to strike 3 so we could do last call, my eyes kept falling to the way he lifted his mask over his mouth to take a sip of his drink. Finally, when Sabrina went around telling everyone we were closing up, he did it one last time and drained his glass, placing it roughly back on the counter and pulling the fabric back down. Not before I could observe him, though, pale stubbled skin framing pretty pink sinful looking lips.

They waited for me as I rushed to clean up, and then we all walked out together. The boys said goodbye to me just like the last time before heading in the opposite direction, and Ghost turned me towards my car.

“Don’t you think it’d be smart to stop parking in the alley?” he grunted, and I laughed, a breathy and light thing falling from my lips.

“Maybe.”

He glared at me, his eyes extra bright behind his mask. Deep and brown, I swore I got lost for a second in them before clearing my throat and turning away.

Once we finally reached my vehicle, I was alarmed to find a man leaning against the drivers’ side. I recognized him. I’d served him earlier, he’d ordered way too many drinks. He was upset over a breakup or something and he’d told me that I was the only thing keeping him going. That I was better than his ex anyway. That she was a whore and I was an angel sent just for him. They loved to call me that. Angel. Of all the men, though, I had to give it to this particular one. He was unsettling, even in the bar he had been, his words seeming less like compliments and more like dirty degradations making me feel ill. He seemed demented in some way, like he was thinking the most horrible things about me. The nastiest things about me, and the only way to let them out was to shoddily flirt. I could see why his ex left him.

“There you are, Angel,” his voice was like a snake, slithering up my spine and leaving chills in its wake. “Been waiting a while for you.” He took one last swig out of the almost empty bottle in his hand then threw it to the side, watching as it shattered on the pavement.

“What’re you doing out here? It’s late, go home,” I set my jaw, stepping forward slightly and shaking Ghost off when he tried to stop me. I didn’t need him to fight my battle for me. I was a grown woman, more than capable of dealing with a too-drunk idiot who was waiting for me by my car.

“What am I doing? What are you doing? Leading a man on then sending him on his way like it doesn’t matter?” Every word was loaded like a gun, and he advanced towards me, blocking my path to my car.

“Get the fuck out of my way,” I hissed, voice low, anger flaring up.

“I don’t think I will. Send your little boyfriend on his way, sexy, we’ve got some stuff to discuss,” he lunged at me, reaching for my arm and I only had a second to panic before a hand was twisting in my shirt, yanking me roughly back. I realized it was Ghost, putting me behind him, as distant as possible from the scene unfolding before me.

Ghost slammed the guy against the wall, forearm to his throat, dwarfing him.

“You sure about that?” he growled, his voice deeper and more terrifying than anything the other man had said, but somehow it made me feel safe.

“Get the fuck off of me,” the guy spat, and Ghost chuckled darkly.

“What’s your name?” Ghost asked, but it was more of a demand than a question.

“Why?”

“Because by tomorrow you’ll be stripped of your rank and if you ever bother her again, I’ll make a trip back here just to kill you.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Watch me.” That was a dare, chilling and foreboding.

He threw the smaller man to the ground, and watched as he scampered away on his hands and knees, thoroughly terrified.

“I could’ve handled that,” I huff as soon as he’s gone.

Ghost has the nerve to laugh at that, full and sharp, before advancing lightly on me.

“You think so, angel?” The word from him was mocking, as if to prove his point to me.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Sorry, would you prefer sexy?”

“Stop,” I yelled, “I could’ve handled it, I didn’t need you to step in and be a hero.”

“You couldn’t have. And that’s your problem. You’re not scared enough. You’re too good of a girl to be throwing caution to the wind like that.”

“Why should I be scared?”

“Do you know what that idiot was planning?” I stayed silent, eyes on his like a challenge as he raised his voice, “Well do you?”

“I have some ideas.”

“Exactly. And you stepped up like an idiot. He was bigger than you, and he was plastered, so you wouldn’t have been able to overpower him. You’re not scared enough, and you should be, because you’re crossing the line between bravery and stupidity.” I stayed quiet again, knowing he was right. I’d found my way into a situation that I could not, in fact, deal with on my own and I was thankful he was there. “Stop parking in the alley. Stop walking to your car alone. I mean it.”

I nodded slowly, “Okay.”

“Get in the fucking car and go so I’ll know you’re safe.”

I walked towards my driver’s side door, then paused, turning back. He was looking at me expectantly, and I approached him slowly, leaning up to kiss his covered cheek like I had the first time.

“Thank you, Ghost,” I whispered, falling back on my feet and getting in the car. I went home, shaking from the adrenaline that was coursing through me. I had to admit, that was one of the scarier things that had happened to me working there.

But Ghost was so quick to put himself in front of me, to defend me, to protect me. Any chance I had of getting him off my mind was gone, all I could see were his forearms as he pressed the guy into the bricks. I couldn’t help it as my mind wandered into dark territory, places it should never go when men I might not see again are involved. He was hot. That much was clear, and the fact that every single part of him was deadly made it worse. I wondered what else he could do. How he could take something so dangerous and use it to make me come apart. I could feel the ache settle in my bones when I accepted my want for him, knowing it wouldn’t ever leave.

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