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garfunklefield · 3 days

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i've been asking this a lot and no one do it😞😞

May you write a fic about Pirate sukuna X Mermaid reader??

PEARL

18+ viewer discretion is advised

mermaid!fem!reader/pirate!Ryomen Sukuna Warnings: pirate AU, dub-con, love at first sight, imprinting, sukunas personality is V complex here, soft sukuna, pining, kind of slow burn not really, drinking, masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, slight humiliation kink, ass job, cumshot [back] backshots? mermaid sex sort of, idk man I'm making this up as we go SORRY Word count: 4936 DESC: Ryomen Sukuna never believed in mermaids, until he met you

NOW WHY WOULD NO ONE DO THIS!?!? I had so much fun writing this omg I LOVE THIS

Fair warning: this is kinda shit IM SORRY I have a HEADACHE

Sun blessed Ryomen’s features, kissing against his brow and creating a tan he could never escape from. The waves crashed against his ship and made it rock ever so slowly, back and forth, as he walked across the deck. He wasn’t sure how long he had been at sea, maybe a month or so, but he wasn’t getting any closer to his goal. The wood made a faint clicking sound under his heel as he paced, waiting for something. There was an island his crew had been in search of for months, but it was becoming a distant dream. There was no evidence it truly existed other than a map he had found in the depths of a library. The paper crinkled against his pant pocket, always reminding the captain it was there. There was never a moment where it wasn’t on his person. He didn’t trust anyone but his younger brother, Yuji, and his half-brother Choso. The two made for adequate help on board, but they weren’t serious. They enjoyed drinking into the night and regaling stories of mermaids. Psh, like those existed. Ryomen knew that tall tales existed, but he didn’t believe anyone thought they were still true.

Mermaids were the stuff of fiction. Although he had seen his fair share of weird shit, he drew the line at mermaids. Sirens too.

Yuji was leaning against the railing of the tip of the boat, staring off into the distance with squinted eyes. A small bandana wrapped around his forehead to stop more sunburns from creasing his skin, and to keep his hair clean from the sky. He was superstitious like that, always fearing too much sun could ruin his naturally pink locks. His brother was somewhat right, Ryomen’s hair was more washed out from sun exposure than Yuji’s. Choso was different, choosing to stay inside and tending to the food. His aura was melancholy and it reflected in how he walked, with a limp.

The rest of the crew were either downstairs or tending to their duties, keeping a watchful eye on their captain. Sukuna was a scary man when angered, but docile all the rest of the time. Most days he rarely spoke a word, unless it was to his brothers. His voice never raised above a mutter, unless he was angered. If he was upset, the whole ocean could hear him. And if he was intoxicated. But he didn’t drink anymore. Someone had to watch over the boat and make sure looters stayed clear of it.

Ryomen took this life very seriously, never straying from getting what he set out for. So it puzzled him as to why the island hadn’t appeared. They were in the right direction, they did everything right! So why was it so hard to find this treasure? It could buy him a new life, and his brothers a better life. That’s all he wanted. All the other men would rave about the riches and the women, but he didn’t care for that. Women never caught his eye, he instead cared for his family. Or, surprisingly, the misfortuned. His crew was made up of people who needed a second chance at life, people who wanted to start over. He never judged anyone’s past. He had no right to. He was just a lost soul floating on Earth as well.

“Ryomen,” Yuji’s voice broke through his thoughts, stopping his footsteps against the sun-washed wood. He raised his head and stared at his brother, waiting for him to continue, “Do you think we should anchor for the night?”

“Anchor?” One of his eyebrows quirked, “Now why would we do that?” It was rather odd to suggest such a thing. But the more the captain thought about it, the more it made sense. The wind wasn’t very strong today, making the ship keep at an almost standstill for the majority of the day. Anchoring could let everyone get a good night's rest for a longer journey the next day. Although Ryomen didn’t typically sleep at night. Someone had to keep watch, and he wanted his crew to be awake in the morning than at night. He didn’t mind losing out on some daylight hours if it meant keeping up productivity. The only reason he was awake now, was because it was an hour and a half until sunset, when his job began.

“Well,” his brother tilted his head to the side, pressing his lips together hesitantly. He had a stupid idea, “I was thinking we could have a bit of a party! Raise morale and make everyone a little less … depressed!”

Ryomen raised his hand and waved it in the air dismissively, “No one’s depressed. I’d know if they were, brat.”

He frowned, “They so are. Everyones been sluggish for days. Just one night of partying should reset us!” The boy perked up and waved his hands in the air, trying to convince his older brother, “C’mon! Ask Choso, I’m right.”

“Choso would only agree with you to spite me,” the man grumbled, looking away for a moment. Something caught his eye and made him stop. It was something shiny bobbing in the water, a few yards from the boat. A bright color, flowing across the sea in an almost blob-like fashion. Like… hair. Ryomen didn’t hear Yuji’s further protests, boots squeaking on the deck as he marched over to the side of the boat. He placed two of his rough hands on the railing and peered down, astonished when the blob was gone. It was weird. Just … disappeared into thin air as if it hadn’t been there just seconds before.

Yuji tapped his brother's shoulder, groaning into his ear, “C’monnnnn Ryommennnnnnnnnnn! Just one party!!” Like an incessant child who wanted a toy at the grocery store, he wasn’t going to stop until he got what he wanted.

He looked over at the boy with a muddled expression. Eyebrows furrowed together, he found himself searching his memories for an answer. Ryomen had seen unusual things before on the ocean, but never like that. Were his eyes playing tricks with him? Deceiving and pulling him from reality? Or were those tall tales really true? Nonsense, he shook his head, there wasn’t any reason to think that. His eyes were playing tricks on him, that had to be it. The pirate looked over at his brother once again, seeing his pleading expression, and nodded.

There would be a party.

Just because you were a mermaid didn’t mean you were a special one. You considered yourself normal, in every sense of the word. A regular mermaid with a regular life, who went to work and came home at the same time every day. Swam the same channels and hung out with her friends on the weekend. You didn’t find yourself longing for more or wishing you were special. You were content. That was until you noticed the shadow. You had heard of humans before and been told the same story. Don’t go up to the surface, they could spot you and kill you. Humans feared the unknown and mermaids were exactly that. You followed and respected the rules, so your curiosity never got the better of you, until you noticed the shadow.

It was a large shadow cast over your coral reef home, making it almost impossible to see. At first, you thought they were building a new mall overhead or perhaps a new traveling show in town. But as you swam closer to the surface, with the cooler water brushing against your fins, you realized it was human. A ship. You had heard of ships before yet you had never seen one this close to your home. Housing closer to the surface was cheaper for being more dangerous, but you didn’t think you were that close.

The boat was brown, and covered in wood panels. Something came over your brain as you swam closer and closer, taking in the bottom side. One of your hands reached out before you and touched the cold wood, brushing against the edge with your fingertips. It was foreign to you. You had never let yourself explore before. You had never let yourself be curious before. It was an addicting feeling. Your eyes glazed over as your tail propelled you further up until your head was bobbing out of the water. Long hairs, of different colors spread out across you, hiding your form in a cave of strands. You watched with interest at the top of the boat, your eyes catching on one man in particular.

He was gorgeous. Pink hair, pushed up in a spikey fashion, with the under part shaved and a dark brown color. His cheekbones were high and hollow, signaling he hadn’t had a good meal in months. But his body showed otherwise. The constant running, walking, and standing, meant he was built. Arms, covered in black ink, broke out from his sleeveless shirt and flexed in the sunlight. Ink covered his neck, lightly stopping by his jaw. It dipped into his front, and you just knew there was more. He hadn’t noticed you yet, staring at a boy who looked similar to him. They were talking about something you couldn’t hear, but from reading their lips, you deciphered his name.

Ryomen. It was an ancient name, something you hadn’t heard before. You wanted to think about it more and admire him from afar, but he turned his head and spotted you. He didn’t see you, but your hair flowed before you in the water. It made your heart drop to see his face contort. It wasn’t hatred, but a look of shock, followed by disbelief. As he walked closer to the edge of the boat, you made your decision and dove back under the water, floating backward to hide yourself in the depths of the waves.

The night rolled around faster than the pirate captain had anticipated. Stars lit up the sky and illuminated the ship, although most of the light came from the lanterns strung across columns. He didn’t drink but opted to sit on a barrel and watch as his shipmates did. They all danced around and sang as if there wasn’t a care in the world. He would’ve danced with them, or done something lively, but he couldn’t get that image out of his head. He had seen something in the water, something alive. It watched him through a veil of thick-colored hair, that bobbed in the ocean’s water. And it ran away the moment it realized he had seen it.

“Ryomen,” a voice behind the man made him jump. He looked over and saw his half-brother, with a tired look across his features, staring back at him, “You should dance.”

“I’m tired.”

“Ryomen,” he said knowingly, “stop worrying and enjoy yourself.”

“I said I’m-” but he was cut off again by a pointed look from Choso. He was hot-headed, sure, but Choso was another level if angered. Ryomen let out a breath and got up, slipping off his jacket. Yuji had brought his fiddle, playing some tune everyone had heard of. It was simple but drowned out by the voices of their laughter and singing. It was a cheery moment, filled with more screams once their captain got up and bowed dramatically.

“Captain!” A crewmate, Nobara, chided. She strolled over to him and took his hand, “Dance with me, will ya?” She was about Yuji’s age, which made her almost a younger sister in his eyes. He took her hand and put another on her shoulder. With one movement he picked the younger girl up and set her feet atop her shoes, striding around the deck with a small smile. She giggled and laughed, holding onto him so she wouldn’t fall. It even made him smile wider, which was strange considering he used to never smile until he met his crew. They all … softened him. Showed Ryomen a side of himself he hadn’t known before.

The captain didn’t notice, in fact, no one noticed they had a guest. From a gap in the railing, a small hole, you watched. You never left. Your curiosity was starting to get you into more dangerous situations, hanging off the edge of the boat all to see a man who didn’t know you existed. You watched him as his face contorted into a smile, echoing laughter radiating from his chest. It calmed you, to see this side of him. Watching him dance and have an amazing time, all without realizing someone was watching.

They danced for another hour and drank for several. But you never left. You ducked your head when the crewmates got close and peeked up to meet Ryomen’s rugged face. He didn’t notice you, no one else did. They were lost in their own world and you were more thankful than ever. His eyes had softened and his smile was radiating, so you were surprised when everyone had left that it… disappeared. The captain put his coat back on and looked around. He didn’t do much to the bottles lying across the deck, or the garbage, opting to kick it with his shoe. There was a hollow look on his face and you desperately wanted to know why. What changed him from turning so happy and charismatic into… that? You had to admit, it was hot. And you had to admit, you were beginning to feel a way about this man you had never felt about anyone before. A loud heartbeat thumped in your ears and made the world slightly fog over, in a daze.

You had imprinted on him.

It’s a bit self-explanatory, but I’ll explain it for a bit. Seeing someone, the someone in mermaids sets off a biological code. They can tell from the moment they meet that person that that’s their lover, their someone, for the rest of their lives. It was complex, seeing as you were two different species. And, seeing as he didn’t even know your existence. You couldn’t get the feeling out of your head that he was meant to be yours, in some universe or lifetime.

You didn’t realize it, from all this info dumping, but being out of the water for so long had dried up your tail, causing you to transform. A bit more lore, if you will. Mermaids, in any body of water, will form a tail around their legs as a protective barrier. Although, out of the water their legs are shown and they can use them, it’s illegal and forbidden to even go above the water and test this theory out. Many mermaids who've tried to live undercover as humans always get outed in some way or another, so after so many terrible disastrous stories, the king outlawed it. You always followed the rules, but you knew it would happen. Looking down, you gasped and stared for a moment before warmth spread across your inner legs.

Masturbating as a mermaid was always kind of a chore, finding the sensitive spot over your tail and rubbing until you got somewhere took forever. But you always heard stories from your more adventurous friends that masturbation with legs was heavenly. Your eyes glanced from your bare legs back to Ryomen who was seated on another barrel and staring at the open ocean. It was so wrong, to touch yourself in front of someone who had no idea, but you couldn’t help yourself. You grabbed onto the ledge and slid one of your hands in between your legs, spreading apart your foreign folds. It was wet and slippery, but a different kind of wetness. Not from water, but natural lubrication. Your teeth found your bottom lip, biting down to suppress a noise when your fingers brushed over a sensitive spot. Was this the clit? It felt so good, that you started to focus solely on it. Rubbing small circles over your clit and praying you wouldn’t be too loud.

It felt like you were on fire, watching the captain and imagining what he would do to you. His cock, because human cocks were much better than mermaid cocks, you’ve heard, would feel so good in your wet pussy. You could imagine him stretching you out and fucking into you with such sheer force it would hurt. It would be different from the sex you’ve had before, no more men laying eggs in you. But instead, pumping bucket loads of sperm inside your tight hole. Your fingers slipped into your cunt, three at a time. Small noises escaped from your mouth and before long you began to unravel. You could see it on the horizon, and feel the orgasm building in your stomach. It was so good, it was so hot. You tried your hardest not to moan too loud, but you did. It was a small noise that could have been passed off as a grunt or perhaps a pained noise. But he knew.

Ryomen’s head snapped in your direction and he saw your face contorted in some kind of pleasure. You pressed your lips together and widened your eyes, thinking of something to do. But in that moment, you were frozen. It was fear, but it was excitement. You had been caught and humiliated, and it felt so hot. Your fingers trailed up from your pussy and to the ledge, glistening in the light. The captain just stared at you for a moment, trying to wrap his head around what exactly to do next. He was face to face with a mermaid of some sort, who he had just heard moan. He stood up and slowly made his way over to you, boots squeaking.

“You,” he gruffed, kneeling to look you over. You stared up at him with wide eyes. He was gorgeous up close too, something out of a fairytale. You wanted to extend your hand and reach out for him, let him pull you up and into his embrace.

“Me,” you repeated sheepishly, a hazy blush forming at your temple. Ryomen reached for your hand and took it, looking over your delicate skin. You went to continue, but he pulled you up. You gasped and let go of the ledge, then found yourself being thrown backward into the water. When your frame hit the water, a shriek escaped your lips and was cut short.

“You!” You gasped, breaking the surface tension and appearing back from the waves, “What the hell was that for?!?” He raised a calculated eyebrow and nodded, standing up. The captain's body shifted from side to side as he debated a response. You could see the wheels turning in his head as he decided if he should even respond to you, or leave you to drown. Of course, you wouldn’t drown, but it was the thought behind it that left a sour taste in your mouth.

“You’re a siren. Some kind of temptress trying to infiltrate my crew,” he spoke proudly as if he had come to the right conclusion. You stared up at him with a dumbfounded expression. How could he be so far from the truth? You weren’t there to tempt him into diving in and drowning, that was an outdated stereotype. The majority of the mermaids and sirens you knew didn’t want anything to do with humans. Why would he think that? In all honesty, you just wanted to feel his skin again. When he grabbed you, you had a chance to feel his rough calloused hands against yours. He was strong and warm—a warmth you had never experienced before.

“I wasn’t gonna-” A frown pulled at your lips, swimming forward to the base of the ship. With force and a lot of groaning, you made your way back up to the ledge with arm strength alone. The man watched you without a caring look in his eye. To him you were here to ruin his mission, the quest he had taken so long for. You were … his enemy. You weren’t sure how to make him see you didn’t want any harm, but rather him. In those few hours of just watching Ryomen and seeing him operate, you had begun to fall for him, even imprinting on his being. It was a tale as old as time, a creature falling in love with a human who couldn’t want anything to do with them. You had heard it play out before, but you wanted to try. Something about him felt different, even if his initial reaction was the same.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” the words flowed out of your mouth gently, taking the captain by surprise. You saw it in the way his eyebrow twitched, and the corners of his mouth pulled down into a frown, “I’ve been watching you all today. You intrigue me, Ryomen.”

“How do you know my name, wench?” He sneered back at you, a cold wall in place of the warm exterior you had seen moments prior with his crew.

“I heard it. I heard a lot.. I don’t want to hurt you,” you looked down at your hands, then to your tail that flowed in the small breeze, “I don’t want to hurt you or your crew.”

He was silent for a moment, lips pressed into a line. He stared at you with an expression that was hard to read. Thinking, calculating, and figuring out his next move. Ryomen was truly stunned. He had never expected a siren to be real and approaching him. And he had never expected one to be so … beautiful. The captain had to admit, he was captivated by your beauty from the moment he saw your orgasm face. Yeah, he knew what you were doing. He didn’t want to think about how it turned him on to be watched like that, hear your sweet moans fill the salty air.

Sukuna knew the tale, a beautiful siren would take in a captain and make him jump. He knew it all too well, so he couldn’t trust you, not even if he wanted to. A part of him did want to. He noticed the fact you grew legs, followed by a tail in their place. He could see the appeal of drying you off and fucking a baby into you, then throwing you overboard and leaving. But something was different. There was a genuine tone in your voice and there was a genuine flutter in his heart. He would never admit this, or show you his warmth as he did his crew. You were a stranger who deserved nothing but a cold exterior and a cold heart.

“Then what do you want?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow. You let a moment pass, silence falling all around you. You didn’t want to say it because the answer would make you completely and utterly vulnerable. But you had to, you had to say something.

“You.” The words rang in Ryomen’s ears for a few moments as he stared at you with incredulous eyes. You wanted him? Even after he threw you into the ocean for dead, you wanted him? You wanted this man when he showed you nothing, not kindness, not hatred, just nothing? He didn’t want to believe he had just accidentally captivated you so much that you’d fall for him, in hours no less. The captain stood and watched you, taking in your form. Your hair was covering bits of your face, and blue scales covering bits of your skin. It didn’t cover your breasts, exposing your perked nipples to the cold wind. It didn’t cover the skin of your stomach, how your rolls were accentuated in the light.

He couldn’t deny he was a little bit curious, and the curiosity was turning into a perverted lust building in his abdomen. He had a mermaid at his will, a pretty one too, willing to do anything for him. The man could tell, from how you stared at him. So in love. It was cute, it made even his heart flutter just a bit. But it was still Ryomen, as warm as he was to his crew he was still a cold-hearted man. And he was a man. A lonely man, who hadn’t seen someone look at him with such love in his whole life. It was intoxicating, how you devoted yourself without thinking. Imprinting. He had read about it but never seen it in person. Hell, he had never seen a mermaid in person before. It was all new to Ryomen. There were mixtures of love, lust, warmth, coldness, confusion, love- love? He didn’t know you! How could he love you? But… it wasn’t natural. There was a pull, different from his other thoughts. It took over his thoughts and made him forget those perversions. It made him want to kneel and take your hand, pulling you from the water and holding you close. Was this the effect of your imprinting somehow rubbing off of him? Or was it… being shown unbridled love and affection that made Ryomen crumble?

Ryomen didn’t say anything, leaning down and taking your hand. His eyes intimately met with yours, as his hand enveloped yours. You looked down at him and a small gasp escaped your lips when he lifted you, without breaking a sweat. His arm flexed in the dull light, and you collapsed against his chest. Wet, you clung to him and rested your face against his pectorals.

“You… want me?” You murmured, not bothering to look up at him.

“I don’t know. I’m drawn, I’ll say that.” his breath was warm against your ear, making the hairs on your neck stand up. He was holding you up, so your tail didn’t drag on the ground. It wasn’t long or big, so it didn’t make a loud commotion as he set you down on the deck, “You.. need to dry off, huh?”

Your head nodded, thinking that would be that. You didn’t expect him to pick you up again, laying you on your stomach. A moan-like breath escaped from your lips, “Ryomen?” You turned slightly to watch, but something stopped you in your tracks. He was drawn to you, in more ways than one. It was your imprinting, rubbing off on him, making you drunk on his scent. Yes, Sukuna had his own will, but he couldn’t help but be drawn to you. Your eyes, maybe that’s what it was? Those tales of sirens were right, except it wasn’t just lust he was feeling. Maybe he was imprinting as well? If humans ever could. Love at first sight, which caused massive arousal on his part.

The entire point I’m trying to drill home is, that the captain was (whether he liked it or not) stuck with you, and he did like it. You couldn’t control your desires for him as much as he could. You knew he was the one and that aura surrounding yourself brought him in, making him feel safe. But onto the matter at hand? His erection was out, glistening in the pale light. You bit your bottom lip as you saw it bob from his left hand slowly stroking up his shaft. He didn’t know how mermaids consummated, because your penetration hole was not behind you, so you weren’t entirely sure what he was doing.

Then you felt it, he pressed his length against your asscheeks, frotting it back and forth to create stimulation. A small whine came falling from your bite-swollen lips, feeling the foreign sensation, “I think… we’re going to have to get to know each other,” Ryomen breathed out between his thrusts in between your asscheeks.

You said your name lowly, giving a brief description of your life. It was boring, with no parents and no siblings. So you had no qualms about leaving and starting over with this hot sailor. He nodded to your story and asked questions about different aspects. For him rutting into your behind, it was oddly casual. As if the two of you had silently agreed, this was normal, and you were now committed. Then he narrated his tale, growing up an orphan with two younger brothers to take care of. How he wanted a better life for his siblings and by doing this exploration, he’d get that. At points, the two of you forgot he was even humping your ass to begin with. It was so intimate, that detail slipped your mind.

It didn’t though, when his grip on your hips tightened, sharp nails digging into your scaled skin. He gaped and groaned, throwing his head back. You felt so good, different than the women he had fucked before. You were good and quiet, letting him hump you until he was about to cum. Then Ryomen leaned back and stroked himself to completion, spilling all on your pretty little back. You gasped and shuddered at the cold sperm, dripping onto your lower back.

“Warning, next time,” you breathed out, looking back at him.

Ryomen smiled and nodded, “Of course. Are you dry yet?”

You looked down at your still very mermaid bottom half and glanced back at him, “Do I look dry?” A hearty laugh escaped his mouth and he shook his head as you continued, “Just a few more minutes. Am I officially coming home with you? I mean, I’d like to, if you’re offering.”

“I don’t think I have a choice. I just came on your…” He trailed off, “I don’t even know why I,” another laugh, “Did that. I think you imprinted- or maybe I imprinted? I just… feel something for you I’ve never felt for anyone else before.”

“You mean it?”

“Mean it.”

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bouncybongfairy · 3 days

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Werewolf Ghost looses control on the full moon and fucks the new recruit. New recruit doesnt know who it was cause they were face down in the dirt the whole time getting the best fuck of their lives.

Brainrot

Animal Like Rage

Werewolf Ghost x Fem Reader

Summary: As a new recruit you hear alot of tales and stories about Ghost on the feild. You chalked it up to overexaterations based on his intimidating apearance. After being paired for a mission with him, you see first hand these account, if anything played-down.

Word Count: 1.0k+

Ref Account: @kaionyx

TW: Rough Smut, Sex in Forest, Masocistic Ghost, Blood Kink.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Everyone knew that there was some underlying reason why they called Simon ‘Ghost’. As a new recruit you heard stories about seeing Ghost do remarkable things on missions. Ripping a man's throat out with his teeth. Beating men twice his size into an unrecognizable pile of messy flesh. While hanging out with other recruits, they would exchange rumors heard about him. After hearing all the tales you came to the conclusion that it was all just over exaggerations. Maybe you were just telling yourself that in order to comfort yourself for the upcoming mission you had with Ghost. All your friends were making a big deal of it.

As if he was going to chew you up and spit you out or something. The two of you were driving towards the perimeter you’d be guarding. It was actually quite a picturesque section of forest. Lots of trees and wildlife living among them. The mission was to simply look out for the assailants if they fled in your said direction. The two of you both knew it would be a boring night. The sun had set about an hour ago, and the moon was beautiful. Full and completely illuminated the sky with its burnt yellow tone.

“It’s really nice tonight right I mean, look at the moon-” you started to make conversation but then realized Ghost was no longer with you.

Your initial reaction was that he was fucking with you. Trying to pull a fast one on you so he could entertain his friends with a story of a gullible recruit. You called out his name a couple times over coms but got no response. Yelling his name out wasn’t an option, seeing as that could give away your location. For about 20 minutes you continued to check the perimeter of the area but to no avail. Eventually you decided to go into the forest to look for him. Starting to get uneasy, feeling like you were seeing things out of the corner of your eye. You stumbled across both of Ghost’s guns placed upright against a tree.

Immediately you bend down to investigate the scene. As soon as your knees hit the ground, you felt someone on top of you. Hitting the ground so hard, it knocked the wind out of you; rendering you completely disoriented. The taste of copper started to flood your mouth. Immediately you assume it’s one of the target’s men. Especially when he ripped the radio off your vest. You reach down for your knife and go to fight back. However, he uses his palm against your back; shoving your upper body against the dirt. You tried to get up but the person’s strength was unparalleled, like a cement wall. Heavy breathing and growls could be heard from above you.

Ghost’s mind was wrapped in a fog of lust and greed. Ever since he first saw you, he knew he wanted to lay much more than his eyes on your body. He had so much pent up sexual aggression that he’d been carrying for weeks. He was practically shaking with anticipation, he ripped your pants off. His claws leave abrasions on your hips and upper thighs. Blood starts to create droplets along the vertical lines. Only to be smeared by his hands gripping your sides, lifting your body and forcing you to change positions. Grabbing your hips and forcing you onto your knees. The dirt and mulch from the forest floor cutting up your skin.

He grabs your ass and spreads you apart, watching as you desperately try to get away. Not wasting any time, he shoves his cock into your entrance. Loving the way you squirm and clench around him; not used to the burning and stretching. Most of you was scared but there was a small part that found this exhilarating. Being bent over in the middle of the forest while you were supposed to be on guard. Apart of one of the deadliest task forces to ever exist but still being used like a bitch in heat.

He began rocking his hips in and out of you, loving how your tight pussy hugged his length. Like you didn’t want to let his member go. His bloody hands grip onto your ass, his claws digging into the soft flesh. He was growling and snarling; drool dripping from his mouth and onto your back. He’d been watching you for a while, walking around the barracks practically half naked. He’d been waiting for an opportunity to get you alone and when he found out you two were together on this mission… It was like fate was trying to satisfy his hunger. He loved watching you, completely in submission for him. Your face was buried in the dirt and your blinks were slow. Gradually becoming more braindead and pliable. So cock-drunk that you were pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts.

“Such a little pain slut, you want more?” he asked, voice raspy and low.

His thrusts were so hard his thighs were spanking your ass, starting to leave the skin reddened and raw. His hip bones leave bruises from them assaulting your skin. You were going in and out of consciousness, his tip hitting your cervix is what brought you back whenever things went black. He was starting to get sloppy, losing rhythm and frantically groping your body. Pushing your body flat against the ground and pile driving you. You never felt someone so deep inside you, like he could literally rip through you.

Having no control of the situation but loving every fucking second of it. The burning feeling in your stomach boils into your climax. Holding your breath while trying to rub yourself against the ground; overstimulated and desperate for any type of friction. Seeing you becoming so disheveled and desperate made him cum. Letting his body weight fall onto you, bucking his hips and growling into your ear. Once he’d finished up, he got the both of you dressed and carried you back to the safe house. Where you were treated for injuries sustained by a ‘animal attack’.

#cod ghost #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty smut #cod #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost x y/n #simon ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley imagine #tw blood

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qu1cks1lversb1tch · 2 days

Note

Hi! You wrote Lucifer so beautifully I was wondering if you'd do a request? I keep wanting to see a really cute fic where either reader or Lucifer is nervous to make a move on the other because it's Charlie's friend or dad (depending whose perspective it was written from) and she finds out somehow and gives her blessing wanting them to be happy together. Thanks for hearing me out regardless and have a great day! :D

A/N — Oh you have no idea how much I love this request! Your kind words on my post made me so happy! Sorry it took so long, it's been a hectic week. I hope this is okay for being written in my half awake state :)

Nervousness | Lucifer x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, slight angsty theme, Luci being Luci (aka babygirl)

Word Count: 1,024

You were going to lose your mind.

If it wasn't from the knowing glances he sent you from across the room at any event, it would be the way he made it his mission to talk to you whenever he came to the hotel to make sure the place was still standing.

You did your best to ignore the way you had felt because that was your friend's dad — your best friend's dad at that.

You hated the way you were reduced to a blushing and stuttering mess in his presence, something that no doubt made Lucifer puff his chest out like a prideful peacock.

You hoped Charlie was too occupied with the hotel to notice any exchange.

Even if she did somehow notice, there was only so much that you could do, so you did what you do best: you avoided him. You avoided him like the fucking plague.

Not because you hated him, no. . . You just wanted to keep some shred of dignity. If Charlie told you he was coming (she always did), you found something to do literally anywhere else; grocery shopping, visiting your family, dragging Angel out for lunch — anything.

And then things began showing up.

At first it was your favorite flowers on a random Wednesday with a note attached, delivered right to the receptionist desk that you spent most of your days at.

Heard you've been feeling down, hope these can lift you up :) — L.M.

Then it became notes with cheesy pick-up lines that you'd randomly find between stacks of papers or in your purse.

Even when he wasn't physically there to make you blush, he somehow managed to, just by writing silly little notes and signing his name.

I don’t know much about astrology, but I do know how the universe started. It started with u n i ;) — L.M.

Are you a magician? ‘Cause every time I look at you, everyone else disappears! — L.M.

Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again and again until you do? — L.M.

If you were a fruit, you’d be a fine-apple. — L.M.

You'd be a liar if you tried to tell yourself that you hated it — you didn't hate the notes or him, you enjoyed both the notes and his presence (when he wasn't staring at you so intensely that you became a stuttering mess).

Then one day, the notes stopped.

Instead, they were replaced by lunch from your favorite restaurant in the Pride Ring and the King of Hell himself, sitting in your chair when you returned from the bathroom.

Charlie hadn't told you he would be coming. . . Maybe she didn't know?

"You can't avoid me forever, you know?" Lucifer questioned in a low tone, a lazy smirk adorning his face as you reached for the bag of goods.

"I'm not avoiding you." You stated as if it were the absolute truth.

"You're avoiding eye contact with me right now, [Y/N]. . . You know she wouldn't care, right? Well, she would care, but she wouldn't be mad."

You shook your head and laughed slightly. Charlie was unbelievably understanding, especially for someone who grew up in Hell, but even understanding people had their limits.

You had your limits.

"I can't." You whispered, momentarily glancing towards the doors. "She's my best friend and you love Lilith."

The words made your heart hurt, but you had to say them.

Someone had to.

"Is it the ring? Because I can lose the ring!" He stood from the chair and placed his hand in front of your face, making a small show of removing the singular piece of jewelry that bound him to his past lover.

It wasn't just the ring.

You were scared of the worst that could happen, the unspoken boundaries that dating your best friend's dad would inevitably cross. It didn't help that nervousness was eating away at your being with every note or longing glance from across the room.

What helped even less was the effect his voice had on you. Not only his voice but his general presence, his aura, his ethereal beauty that seemed to be only reserved for his pleasure.

"I can't." You repeated once more.

It had been a week since the conversation took place and you were flooded with more notes and flowers than before.

The pick-up lines increased in cheesiness, which ironically enough, only made you want him more.

You were in the middle of working when Charlie walked in carrying a vase full of your favorite flowers. You hadn't noticed until she spoke.

"My dad sent another one for you. . . You should give him a chance [Y/N]. I think it's nice that he's trying to get out there after my mom."

You paused, looking up at Charlie. Did you hear her correctly?

"What?" You asked.

"Well, my dad's been sending you flowers for a while now and he seems to really like you. I think you'd be good for each other — I mean, he looks at you like you put the stars in the sky! Which is soooooooo sweet! I know you feel the same way about him, so you should go for it!"

You gaped at your best friend.

"What — how?"

"I have my ways. . . Besides, he only met you six months ago and I'd rather him date you than someone who only cares about his status. I want you both to be happy, and if you're happy with each other, I'm happy for you!"

"I mean, are you sure? There has to be someone —"

"He loves you!" Charlie blurted out, immediately covering her mouth with wide eyes.

You only stared with wide eyes and uncertainty gnawing at you.

"It's true, and I'm taking you out tonight, [Y/N]." Lucifer's voice said from behind you.

You turned around and before you could utter those four words in return, or even anything to question what just happened, he kissed your cheek and disappeared, leaving a note where he had just previously been.

Hey, tie your shoelaces. I don’t want you falling for anyone else. — Lucifer

When had he stopped signing L.M.?

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin x reader #hazbin lucifer #lucifer headcanons #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel charlie #x reader #request #hazbin imagine #mini fanfic

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lady-phasma · 2 days

Note

I for the life of me don’t believe HBO would spoil Aemond ”sex scene” on the trailer like that because 1) wouldn’t you want that to be a bigger shocker if it actually does happen in the show, and 2) that’s just whole 180 from the Aemond they showed on season 1 (granted they didn’t get to show much but anyway) I just get sad (not really sexy) vibes from that little scene in the trailer so I would lean towards it being Alicent or maybe possibly Helaena

I love this ask, anon. Thank you. I am not convinced it's sexual in nature. In a previous ask here, the asker said that they were excited he got laid. In my answer I said "if" it were sexy time. Since I answered that I have been discussing these 1.5 seconds of the trailer with people, at length. That has given the omg he's naked some time to wear off.

I agree with you to a degree on your first point - I think that this isn't as much a spoiler like "look Aemond had sex," as it is a preview of his wrecked psyche. He will likely be intimate with at least one, if not more, women if the series follows the book.

So, let's do what I do... let's look at the evidence. He's with someone who is clothed. He's being comforted. There is nothing sexually explicit. I have called this "naked Aemond" jokingly because I think it's a nice bit of fan service, but I don't see anything explicit. He may not even be naked. We see him without his eye patch, no shirt, bare legs. We are just assuming that he doesn't have on some kind of underwear, towel, etc. His expression is pained or sad but there isn't much more information in these few frames.

So we are all currently obsessed with who is with him because that could help give us context. But I think you are onto something with your second point, anon. I have so much headcanon about this man because he has been a tabula rasa for us for almost 2 years!

Scenes like this will help fill in those blanks, whether or not we like the answers. I think that it would be a completely different Aemond than I imagine if this were purely sexual. I am not saying I exclude the possibility that he had sex directly before or after this image. It is possible to have this kind of moment in that context. I just don't read this as sexual. In my previous ask I said "I definitely would love for him to have some sexy time but the hurt/comfort is sending me."

I stand by that. I want our boy to have someone he can be sexual with (and not just because I want to see him like that on screen). I just don't think this is that time. Regardless, I am thrilled that he is actually being comforted. You have no idea! (You probably do.) I think Aemond seeking comfort is much more in line with the 11.5 minutes we got of adult Aemond in season one. But, as you said, that's not much.

I'm not going to get on a soapbox and start talking about my traumatized man here, but I don't want to sexualize this image too much because we don't know the context.

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond one eye #hotd season 2 #hotd spoilers #hotd s2 #asked and answered #love my anons

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cobaltperun · 2 days

Text

Lost (29) - I Walk the Line

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 4.8k

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part (finale)

-You give me cause for love that I can't hide, for you I know I'd even try to turn the tide-

Tara woke up to the sound of crying and was about to get up, but she felt a hand on her shoulder as she rubbed sleep from her eyes.

“I got this,” you were already sitting up and making your way to the switch so you could turn it a bit. The dim light just bright enough for you to see where you were going lit the room and Tara stretched a bit as she watched you leaning over your children. “Hey buddy, what’s wrong?” you picked the boy up and rocked him slightly. You weren’t doing anything else, so it seemed like he just woke up. Zack calmed down a bit in your arms and Tara had to stifle a laugh at that, from the looks of it your children calmed down when you held them just like she did. “There we go, everything’s okay,” you said softly, offering him your finger so he could grab it and Tara felt like melting at the sight in front of her.

And then her eyes widened when she heard Susan crying as well. She got up, smiling at you when you shrugged a bit and picked up your daughter. “She’s missing her twin,” she smiled, rocking Susan in her arms.

“Well, they are twins,” you agreed and then feigned a sighed and Tara heard the reason why. “Well, better get the diaper,” you laughed, carrying Zack along with you as you went off to deal with the mess.

Tara looked down at Susan, the baby was calm once again, grabbing onto a few strands of Tara’s hair and just looking at her with those huge brown eyes. “Should I go and get a diaper ready for you as well, little miss?” she teased as the girl just tugged at her hair.

A few minutes later you came back with Zack just about ready to fall asleep in your arms, so you laid him back down on the bed and Tara did the same with Susan. The babies once again fell asleep, and Tara just leaned against you.

“Should I rock you to sleep as well?” you teased, kissing the side of her head, and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

Tara grinned, smacking you on the stomach lightly. “Hush now, I don’t need rocking,” she laughed as quietly as she could to avoid waking the twins up.

You just went and lifted her up. “Yeah, you just need to be held,” you went over to her side of the bed and lowered her down. Tara wrapped her arm around your neck and pulled you down, kissing you deeply. You eagerly kissed her back, gently running your fingers through her hair while you pressed your other hand onto her pillow to support your weight.

“Oh, the things I’d do to you if I wasn’t sleepy,” Tara yawned a bit as you leaned down and kissed her neck a few times.

“Yeah?” you latched onto a particularly sensitive spot and bit lightly, prompting Tara to cover her mouth and muffle a moan. “Wanna fall asleep while I kiss your neck?” you blurted out and she just lost it, laughing way too loudly at that. It became a bit of a running joke ever since you fully recovered and every now and then one of you would bring that up.

You chuckled but tried to get her to stop laughing, or to at least keep it down. “Kids, Tara,” you tried, you really did, and she tried to get it under control as well, but it was too late, as mere moments later you heard loud crying, this time from both of your babies. “Well, up we go,” you separated from Tara and went back to the crib.

Tara, given that the damage was already done, took a moment to calm down from laughing too hard before getting up as well and took Zack from your arm so you could rock Susan easier.

~X~

The next day, around noon, Tara enjoyed peace and quiet with a cup of coffee next to her on the table, and Sam was just about to drop by. She was wrapped in blankets and just resting her eyes after washing the dishes when her phone buzzed. She glanced at it and saw it was just Sam saying she just parked outside, and soon enough Tara heard the front doors opening.

Tara sat up, untangling herself from the blankets and getting up to hug her sister. “Hey, I missed you,” she had just seen Sam last week, but that hardly mattered. She didn’t like being away from Sam for too long.

Sam just hugged her tightly. “I’m sorry, Tara, I just,” she paused and just took a deep breath instead of continuing.

Tara didn’t push, content to have her sister near and no longer fueled by anger. Sam was still struggling, but she was getting better.

“You look tired,” Sam noticed when she pulled back and looked at Tara.

Tara did, in fact, look tired, Zack and Susan kept waking each other up and they hadn’t even started teething yet. So, all things considered, neither you nor she had enough sleep during the night, still, she smiled brightly and looked toward the stairs where the bedroom was. “It’s worth every sleepless night,” she said softly.

Sam smiled at that. “I bet it is. Is Y/N upstairs with them?”

Tara nodded. You were upstairs, taking a nap with your kids and letting Tara take a break and spend some time with Sam. “She’s been amazing, Sam,” she said almost dreamily, and you were and Tara thought you were protective and gentle with her, but with your kids you took it to a whole new level.

Sam nodded. None of you really said it, but Sam still struggled to be around you, she still felt guilty for what happened even after you repeatedly told her to get over it. It really came down to the reason you somewhat forgave her, it wasn’t that you were okay with what happened, and Tara still didn’t know the extent of everything that happened between you and Sam. It was simply because Tara still wanted Sam to be a part of her life, so you, to keep Tara happy, moved on.

There wasn’t a doubt in any of your minds that if Sam wasn’t Tara’s sister that you wouldn’t keep in touch with her.

“I’m-“ Tara recognized the look on Sam’s face and placed her hand over Sam’s mouth.

“Don’t. I know, Y/N knows, it’s not fine, but I’d rather have you in my life than lose you over this,” Tara smiled slightly and nudged Sam’s shoulder. “Besides, my kids need an aunt,” even if Sam still wouldn’t hold them.

Sam sighed as the two of them went to the living room and sat down. “I still feel like my hands are too dirty to hold them,” Sam said, confirming Tara’s suspicion. “Maybe one day,” still, she left it at a maybe and Tara wasn’t about to argue. Sam needed time, and Tara would give it to her.

~X~

You woke up from your nap on your own, which was a welcome surprise. You blinked a few times, adjusting to the sunlight peaking through the window and saw the most beautiful sight you could possibly imagine. Tara was sitting on the other side of the bed, holding your children in her arms and singing softly as Zack and Susan gurgled and cooed at her.

You sat up slowly and your eyes met Tara’s as she kept singing, though a bit louder now that you were awake. You somewhat recognized the nursery rhyme she was singing.

“Baa, baa, black sheep, have you any wool? Yes, sir, yes, sir, three bags full,” she sang as you moved and sat behind her. Tara leaned back, pressing her back against you like she did so many times over the years and you leaned down to kiss her cheek.

“Need help?” you offered, already putting your arms around her own.

“No, but I like this,” she whispered, and so you stayed like that, without a care in the world, all four of you cuddled together as the soft breeze came through the slightly opened window. “Did we wake you up?”

You just shook your head. “I wish you did, I was missing out,” you replied, nuzzling your face against her neck, and leaving a couple of soft, innocent kisses.

“Y/N, look,” Tara suddenly gasped and you looked down at Susan, and sure enough, the two and a half months old girl smiled up at you, and as if encouraged by his sister Zack went and did the same.

“They have your smile,” you were mesmerized, just watching the first actual, large smiles on the twins’ faces.

“You think?” Tara asked, just as breathless as you.

You couldn’t speak, you just nodded, grinning widely and pulling your family just a bit closer.

“Talk about a slightly early birthday gift,” Tara pointed out, laughing slightly when she remembered she’d turn twenty-five in three days.

“Guess they know how to treat their mom,” you said, still unable to wipe the grin off your face. “Say, what cake do you want?”

Tara thought it over, humming slightly and leaning the back of her head on your shoulder. “If you really have to-”

“Which I do,” you interrupted playfully.

Tara couldn’t smack you with her hands full, so she just lightly nipped at your ear. “How about a cheesecake? We haven’t had one in a while and it won’t take you too long to make it,” she suggested, and you nodded. Cheesecake it is.

~X~ March 2030 ~X~

You were reading a bedtime story to the twins, a bit tired from the work but more than ready to spend some time with your kids. Tonight, you were reading The Lion King to them. It was one of their favorites and they eagerly settled down on each side of you as you kept reading through Simba’s tale. Around the time you reached the confrontation with Scar Zack got fussy and moved to your lap, but you managed to finish the story.

Unfortunately, it didn’t seem either of them were ready to fall asleep, as Susan drew random shapes on the pillow. Guess she got that from Tara as well, and you honestly couldn’t help but smile at that.

Zack reached up all of a sudden and touched your jaw. “Boo-boo,” your eyes widened and you just looked at him. “Mama,” he babbled when you didn’t respond to him as quickly as he was used to.

“Sorry, yeah, it’s a boo-boo,” you gently caressed the back of his head, ruffling his hair in the process and making him giggle.

Susan seemed to get curious as well, as she crawled from the bed to your lap. “Hurts?” she patted the scar as well, not sure how it got there, hell, you were sure this was the first time they properly noticed that wasn’t exactly supposed to be there.

“Not anymore,” you replied, smiling when the two settled down in your arms.

“Oh,” Zack mumbled, already feeling sleepy, his attention was no longer on the scar as he curled up a bit and closed his eyes.

They quickly fell asleep, and you found yourself touching the old scar. It’s been almost a decade since you got the scars from that night at the hospital. If you told your sixteen-year-old self this was the life you would be living she’d laugh at you and probably get into a fight. That you’d be married to Tara, have two wonderful children, that you’d be a retired MMA world champion, that you’d have a successful company that allowed your family a very comfortable life, that you’d have all of this before turning thirty and that you’d be the happier than ever and excited about life.

Tara slowly opened the doors, just to make sure she couldn’t wake the twins up if they were asleep and smiled when she saw the three of you cuddled together on the bed.

“Hey, you look like something is on your mind,” she leaned down to kiss the twins on the tops of their heads before softly kissing you as well.

“I’ve been thinking about the past, how I couldn’t even begin to imagine this life when I was a teenager,” you told her, for once leaning into her touch as she sat down next to you. And while making sure Zack and Susan were still comfortable and asleep you moved so you could rest your head on Tara’s chest.

She ran her fingers through your hair, and all the tension in your body, all the exhaustion accumulated during the day gradually disappeared. “Did something happen?” Tara asked you. She was too in tune with you, granted you were the same with her.

“Zack noticed the scar, it just took me by surprise,” you told her, having no reason to hide what just happened. Besides, both of your kids just noticed, wanted to know if you were in pain and when you said you weren’t let it go.

Tara still tensed behind you and hugged you from behind. “You’re my hero, you know? The love of my life and the mother of my children,” she whispered softly, moving to get the kids off you. You were about to get up to help her, but she just pushed you back on the bed and put Zack and Susan in their own beds. Then, with a soft, gentle smile on her face she lay down next to you and pulled you closer so you could fall asleep in her arms.

~X~

A few days later, on your insistence, Tara took Zack and Susan out to the local park. Normally you’d go with them, and you’d spend time there as a whole family, but there was something you really should have done earlier.

The front doors opened, and you leaned back into your armchair, relaxed and ready to finally have the necessary conversation with the woman that just walked in. Sam froze, expecting Tara and the kids to be there, yet you were the only one she could see.

“Hey, Sam,” you said, getting up and approaching her. It’s been almost three years since you and Sam were alone, and it’s been almost three and a half years since you and Sam were on actual good terms. “I think it’s about time we talk this out,” you told her, hands held in your pockets and expression fairly neutral.

“Y/N,” she began, but then just sighed, accepting her current circumstances. “I figured this would happen soon. Did Tara convince you to talk to me?” she asked as you reached over to the table and grabbed the remote so you could turn the TV off.

“Nope, she agreed we need to do this though,” you replied and turned toward the kitchen. “I have ojo de pancha, want some?” you were trying to bury the hatchet with Sam, not start a fight, so, as a kind of an olive branch you made ojo de pancha.

“Uh, sure, I’d like some,” Sam said, though you could hear some uncertainty in her voice.

You took your time, preparing the coffee and serving the pastries on the plate. You did take Sam by surprise, well, it was a bit of a payback for framing you, and you and Tara were sure she wouldn’t have agreed to come if she knew she’d be alone with you.

When you came back to the living room you found Sam fidgeting with a loose strand of her shirt. She definitively quit smoking, and she hasn’t touched alcohol ever since you ended the cult, and that was part of the reason for trying to reconcile with her. You remembered the first time you made the pastries for Sam, on her 25th birthday, you remembered all the times the two of you worked together to either surprise Tara or support her through tough times, all the times you went out without Tara, how competitive both of you were, how you formed a bond that no longer relied on Tara, and it all just fell apart. “So, straight to the point or do you want to have some small talk first?”

Sam looked at you just for a moment before looking away, she truly couldn’t look you in the eyes anymore. “Straight to the point,” she decided.

“I want to start again. Leave what happened behind and move on,” you told her calmly, your tone almost the exact opposite of how it was when you were alone the last time. To this day Tara still didn’t know Sam was the one who framed you, but she knew something bad had happened to cause the rift, she didn’t need to know what it was exactly, she just felt it.

“I… don’t deserve it,” Sam argued and finally looked at you. “I framed you for your father’s murder, I put Tara in danger, and I killed so many people and still got to walk free,” she wasn’t pretending, she truly believed what she was saying.

Sam wanted to be punished, but you weren’t willing to give that to her. You had no intention of being her judge when your hands were stained with blood as well. “Zack and Susan are perceptive,” you said, making her finally look at you, so you took the chance to point at your scar. “They noticed this a few nights ago. It’ll only be a matter of time before they notice the tension between us. I want all five of us to go on vacations, I want you to be more present in their lives, and I don’t want to make excuses to be absent when you come over.”

“Y/N, that’s not what I want, I would never want you to that,” Sam argued.

“So, just let it go. You made mistakes, but things turned out fine. Besides, I want you back in my life, step by step,” you got up and offered her your hand.

Sam stared at your hand before slowly getting up herself, and she just hugged you. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for everything Y/N,” she whispered when you finally hugged her back. It would take some time, but you’d get over this and this awkward tension would eventually disappear.

~X~ July 2032 ~X~

The heat was killing Chad as he parked in your and Tara’s driveway and all the air conditioning in the world seemed utterly useless against the scorching hot July sun. He hoped, for your sake, that you made ice cream or had something else to cool him down because he was about to melt into a puddle and you and Tara were already busy with two kids, you didn’t need to wipe him off your floors.

Besides, it would be a shame if he melted. Zack and Susan loved him! He was their favorite person in the world! After Tara and you, of course, an maybe Sam was a worthy contender for that title as well, but he reigned supreme as the favorite non-parent person, he was sure of that!

“Uncle Chad!” Zack and Susan ran up to him and jumped into his arms.

“Hey! Look at you two!” he exclaimed, lifting them up, they were getting a bit heavy. “What are your moms feeding you, cause I want some of that as well,” the children giggled as he carried them up to the front doors. “How about you help me, Zack?” he asked, hoping the boy would lean down and open the doors for him.

Zack rubbed his chin, as if thinking it over, he then looked at Susan and they both shook their heads. “Mom doesn’t need help!” he exclaimed all happy and proud.

Chad just looked at him blankly, honestly feeling betrayed by the boy. “Susan?” but the girl just shook her head. It was kinda scary how much they resembled Tara, her big expressive eyes, dark hair, freckles, and they smiled and laughed just like she did. They even had the same habit of teasing him as well.

“Little traitors,” he rolled his eyes and was about to try and open the doors when they, miraculously opened by themselves.

“Mommy!” Susan exclaimed, holding her arms out as Tara stood aside, letting Chad in.

Tara grinned, happily taking her daughter into her arms, and kissing the side of her head. “Did you two say ‘hi’ to Uncle Chad?” she asked, reaching over to ruffle Zack’s hair.

“Yup!” Susan exclaimed.

Tara smiled and turned her attention to Chad. “Hey, it’s good to see you,” she told him and moved to hug him as well as she could, given that they each had one of her children in their arms.

She led him inside, where you were already busy making lunch and from the looks of it you were going all out. It made sense, after all, it was a bit of a Core Six reunion. Mindy, Anika and Sam were yet to arrive, but it was only a matter of time.

“Y/N, hey!” he approached you once he lowered Zack down and swung his arm over your shoulder.

You smirked, wiping your hands and bumping his fist, and Zack, following the example of his favorite non-parent person in the world, raised his fist toward you. “Well, hello there,” you crouched down, fist bumping Zack as well.

The warmth and happiness radiated from the house and Chad for a moment wondered if he could ever build something like this as well. What you and Tara had was something special, and he was sure the two of you never actually argued. Sure, small quarrels here and there, maybe over what to have for dinner, or what movie was better, but the bond between you and Tara was so strong he doubted either of you raised your voice out of anger, let alone got into a serious argument.

~X~

Later that night you were all in the living room, just chatting as you and the kids played with the ball. They were bored, so, they quite easily convinced you to sit down on the floor and play with them. Whoever got to ten points first would win, and they, as usual, focused on earning their points by beating you at the game.

Eventually, Tara kneeled behind you and placed her chin on the top of your head as she hugged you from behind. You took her hand while still tossing the ball back to Zack.

“Unrealistic expectations,” Mindy suddenly spoke up causing you to nearly drop the ball when Susan tossed it back to you.

“What?” Tara asked, raising her eyebrow at Mindy.

“You two got trauma from your parents, your kids are going to grow up thinking this,” she pointed at you and Tara. “Is how every relationship is.”

“They better not settle for anything less, that’s for sure,” you continued playing the game with your kids, and sure, Mindy had a point, maybe you and Tara were setting too high of a standard, but you sure as hell didn’t want to set the bar too low.

“And they won’t. They’ll grow up, see other relationships, they’ll be fine,” Tara added, tightening her grip on you a bit more and sighing contently.

Mindy just pointed her thumb at Chad. “Living example of how your kids will turn out,” she said dryly.

Chad grinned. “Exactly! Wait, what?”

“When was the last time you were in a relationship?” Anika asked.

“Two weeks ago,” Chad replied, still not sure what that had to do with anything.

“Exactly, and you’ve dated her for like half a month. You want a best friend and a girlfriend in one pack,” she then turned back to you and Tara. “And it’s all your fault for being like this after all these years,” she actually sounded a bit exasperated.

“Mindy, chill,” Sam laughed a bit, taking a sip of her tea and tossing the ball back to Zack when he dropped it.

The boy looked at the ball, you tossed it to him, and he failed to catch it, meaning you scored a point, catching up to him and Susan. Him and Susan were tied, and both missing one point to win, but now you were missing two points. He then looked at you and then at Tara. “Mommy, help!” he cried out with a toothy grin.

You yelped when Tara grabbed your hands and held them in place as he tossed the ball to Susan, who grinned and tossed it to you, which, of course, meant you couldn’t catch it.

“You lose, Mom!” Susan laughed and jumped into your arms, prompting Zack to do the same, and with Tara helping them they brought you down to the floor, and whether it was their age and childish disregard for danger and injuries, or if it was some kind of instinctual belief that you’d keep them safe from the fall they just kept laughing.

You freed your arms from Tara’s hold and pulled your entire family into a hug, laughing with them.

You heard someone being smacked and then Anika saying: “Hush, they are adorable and you know it,” ah so Mindy was about to tease the four of you.

“Okay, okay, let’s wash our hands! It’s time for cake!” you stood up, bringing the twins up with you as they cheered, eager to eat anything sweet.

Later that night, when you finally looked at your phone to set an alarm you saw that Sam had sent you a photo through a group chat. You smiled softly as you looked at the four of you laughing after Tara, Zack, and Susan tackled you to the floor. “Well, that’s a lockscreen,” you grinned, immediately changing the previous one. There was just something spontaneous about this photo.

~X~

Zack and Susan were sleeping over at Sam’s place, for the second time in their entire lives. The first time was… memorable. They got scared and you and Tara had to go over to help them fall asleep, because Sam, well she wasn’t exactly experienced with taking care of kids, and she wasn’t that experienced now, but the twins spent a bit more time alone with her since the first sleepover attempt and things would probably be fine.

So, seeing as you and Tara had the first solo night since the twins were born you decided to go on a bit of a nostalgia trip, so here Tara was, munching on pancakes, occasionally feeding you while sitting on your lap as the two of you watched the Babadook.

“How many times have we watched this movie anyway?” you chuckled as the credits rolled and Tara just leaned back against you.

“I lost count,” she looked back at you and softly kissed your cheek. “What genre do you think Zack and Susan will like?”

You had no idea. Horror was a bit too obvious of an answer, but there was a good chance they’d come to like it simply due to horror being Tara’s favorite genre. “We’ll see,” you settled for that answer.

“That’s a boring answer,” Tara pouted, and you just shrugged.

“They’ll have great taste in movies, that’s all I know,” you just told her and nuzzled against her neck. She was using that damn perfume that drove you wild again. And you were willing to bet she did it on purpose.

“Damn, Tara,” you sighed, leaning your head back a bit.

“Did I get you worked up?” she teased prompting you to just nod. “Good,” she reached behind and placed her right palm on the nape of your neck and pulled you closer. She twisted around slightly so she could kiss your neck and you took a deep breath and exhaled as her lips moved from the side of your neck, up to your jaw and finally met your lips.

You could taste the pancakes on her tongue as she deepened the kiss, she turned around, straddling your lap and moaned when you put your hands on her hips and pulled her even closer. “I missed this so much,” she said as she pulled back and you clearly saw the mischievous glint in her eyes. “Say, do we really need that much sleep to function tomorrow?” she whispered in your ear.

“We’ll manage somehow,” you picked her up and climbed up the stairs. Might as well use the night alone properly.

Taglist: @alexkolax

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x female reader #scream #jenna ortega x reader

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spctrsgf · 2 days

Text

laser tag

summary: first date w marc BRO I NEED HIM (i'm just a girl)

word count: 1.2k

warnings: language?? i don't think this one needs any??? crazy unheard of ik i just miss my man

a/n: me spawning every three months to drop a piece ain't cool I KNOW BUT LIFE HAS BEEN SO BUSY i miss u guys i am trying so hard to be more active :((((

Marc.

Marc Spector.

His name is Marc Spector.

His name is Marc Spector, and he is downright nervous.

His palms are sweating, this is getting embarrassing. It's just a date. All he had to do is get dressed nice, the verdict being in something that he'd found in the back of his closet. It's been ages since the last time he'd needed to suit up, in not his Moon Knight getup.

He walks back to his mirror, turning to the back to make sure all of his clothing is straightened properly for what feels like the millionth time. He runs his hand down the back of his suit, bringing himself to face front and tightens his bowtie.

This is stupid. He pulls off the tie, unbuttoning the first button of his shirt and flattening it nicely against his collarbone. A tilt of his head to the clock tells him the time: 5:45. He shakes his hands out lightly, trying to muster up some sort of confidence before he grabs his keys and makes his way out the door.

He navigates his way to the place you two had picked out, nervousness bending to excitement as he sees the flashy sign. Its effervescent light is so enticing he finds himself pumping on the gas in excitement. After parking and stepping out of his car, he sees you at the door.

Well, that's sure to stop him in his tracks.

You're dressed up in his favorite color. You’d asked him, the night before. He snorts. What a sneaky move. Your outfit fits you perfectly, and your smile when you notice him is to die for. He feels his hands getting clammy again and his cheeks dusting as he wills his wobbly knees to move towards you.

“Hi,” he drops out, nearly breathless as he comes within talking distance. You're even more stunning up close. “You look…” You smile brightly at him, your own cheeks pink as you giggle at him. “Hey, Marc. You look,” you pat his chest, pulling at the edge of his shirt. “As well.”

He shoved your shoulder lightly. “Shut up.”

“My bad, sir.” You tease.

“Don't hit me with that,” he pushes open the door to the place, letting you walk in ahead of him. “I’m paying. Could get you a shitty gun.”

You toss your head back at him with a tilt. “Please. You know I’d still be better than you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that.”

You both giggle as you make your way up to the front desk, Marc buying all of the tickets and you leaving punchy lines the whole way through. Soon enough, the two of you have been suited up and are ready to play.

You two had decided that you would be on the same team, fighting against another sweet couple who were just as determined to win. “Marc, look at his shirt,” You point towards one of the men's shirts. “It's white. What a bold move.” Marc snorts, but you're right; the shirt glows like headlights. You can't miss it. “How good do we think he is?” He whispers back.

“Either really fast or a newbie who doesn't quite know they use UV lights yet.”

He snorts. “Laser tag newbie. Who hasn't played laser tag?”

“Not everyone.” You bump his shoulder.

“Watch the video, baby.”

“Oh, pet names,” you giggle as you face the screen with a shit eating grin. “Didn't know we were there yet.”

“We don't have to be.” Panic flashes across his face.

“No, no. I think it's sweet.”

With that, you two go silent, both blushing from the high of your banter. You make your way out into the room soon after, settling into a competitive spirit. You quickly map out your plan to tackle the other couple based on what you had seen and previous experiences with laser tag, kicking into rapidfire excitement with Marc on your heels.

The game will start in… the automated voice booms on the loudspeaker, nearly scaring you. Marc giggles at your surprise, but a sharp slap to the side quickly quiets him.

3…

He turns his focus to you, admiring the way your brows are furrowed in concentration and your fingers flex impatiently in time with the dart of your eyes. You're locked in, solely focused on the game.

2…

Your lips curl into a slight smile. You know he's looking at you; he hasn't quite figured out that subtlety, you've gathered. It's exhilarating, confidence boosting, to have someone so blatantly admiring you.

1…

He realizes he's staring. That’s so creepy, he scolds himself, turning forward and remaps the room in front of him. He scouts out the best hiding spots, how to get to where he needed to go, kicking into his dump of internal lunar habits.

Fight!

He's off in a flash, bounding forward in a mess of anticipation and adrenaline. He's determined to impress you, ready to rub it in– only a little– when he places first and you second.

Oh, is he in for a shocker.

You’ll give it to him. His moves are so smooth and calculated. He moves with the agility of a cat, dipping left and right. His eyes scan for any movement, so meticulous you’d think that maybe there was a cat up in his brain, telling him what moves to make next. But he lacks one thing. In all his glory, in all his advantages, you have one thing to top him.

Patience.

You pause, you don't move to take the higher ground, you crouch, and you wait. You let one of the men come forth, let him think you didn't see the way he crept behind the block to your left. You let him think he won.

He launches forward, as you had expected, triumphant in the thought that he had captured you, unbeknownst to you. You turn, shutting one eye and slamming your finger down on the trigger button.

The shot seems to go in slow motion to you and to the man. It felt like a shot out of a movie, so picturesque that you couldn't breathe through the cliche. It blips into the plastic on his chest with a blue flicker, surprising him. You can hear his confidence shatter with the ring of the buzzer.

The man turns, heading back to his base to revive himself, only turning back once to nod with a sense of respect. You tilt your head back at him, smiling. With that, you dart off towards where you see Marc, gaping at you from behind a barricade.

Your free hand cups his cheek as soon as you get close enough to touch him, bringing your face up and just a hare's breath away from his own. “How'd I do?” You murmur. He blinks helplessly at you, barely managing to conceal his groan when you pull away from him.

“C’mon, lover boy,” you turn back, ushering him forward. “We got a laser tag game to win.” He follows you without a question nor a word, a dumbstruck smile painting his face.

He definitely chose the right person.

#marc sillies :3 #moon knight #moon knight tv #moon knight imagine #marc spector #marc spector imagine #oscar isaac #oscar issac characters #marvel

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yoonivy · 1 day

Text

my house of stone, your ivy grows (and now i’m covered in you); part 4.

aemond targaryen x fem!reader

genre. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, drama, angst, fluff, smut. it’s a y/n fic but no use of y/n. heavily inspired by taylor swift’s ‘ivy’.

When a fierce blizzard ravages the North, a certain dragon rider gets caught up in it and crashes onto Bear Island.

And right to you, the youngest daughter of House Mormont.

warnings. angst!!! 01| 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09

---

King’s Landing is in utter disarray.

The past week in the capital of the Seven Kingdoms has been a shitstorm – for a lack of a better word.

Starting with the secret death of King Viserys I Targaryen. Then the gathering and holding captive of the supporters of the decreed heir to the Iron Throne, Princess Rhaenyra, in order for the Greens to usurp her birthright to give the crown to Prince Aegon. Then, there was the destruction of the Dragonpit during Prince Aegon’s – no, now King Aegon’s – coronation from when Princess Rhaenys made her escape on her dragon Meleys by breaking through the ground from the dungeons, resulting in the deaths of many smallfolks. And, finally, Princess Rhaenyra has found out of her father’s death and her younger half-brother’s ascent to the throne, and from a parley with the King’s hand, Otto Hightower, she had declared she is the true Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and the Greens are the ones who are traitors to the crown.

Now, like a Cyvasse board with most of the pieces of the game set in place, each side is quiet again, both thoroughly planning their next move.

In Maegor’s Holdfast, Prince Aemond Targaryen sits on a leather accented chair, staring at one of the walls in his bedchamber – all four bare and empty, letting him be with just himself in complete withdrawal. Perhaps to decompress all that has happened. Perhaps to think about nothing at all. Perhaps to… Aemond does not even know.

All he really knows is that he just needed time to himself.

In the first half of this whirlwind of a week, he played a foolish cat and mouse game with his older brother – at the behest of his mother – to bring him back first to the Keep before his grandfather’s men, to force him of his fated coronation. Now Aemond has to watch Aegon gloat as he wears the crown that he did not even want — a crown that Aemond wants for himself — and it sickens the younger Targaryen prince.

Beyond that, he has not even properly mourned the death of his father yet. Or even, at all .

Aemond is not sure if he could even anymore. They’ve tarnished his legacy, spat in the face of his decree of having Princess Rhaenyra as his heir. His mother, Queen Alicent, said that his dying wish, whispered only to her ear, was that the King wanted Aegon to be the one on the Iron Throne after him instead of his first-born daughter. Aemond is not sure that even he believes that. But his heart has grown cold and bitter through the years – wanting power more than anything else now – and with Rhaenyra stripped from her title, he has risen up a step to be next in line after his baby nephew, Jaehaerys, one half of Aegon’s and Helaena’s twins.

So Aemond cannot mourn his father. Has to push back the memory of his death into the back confines of his mind – where he had stuffed and locked away other painful memories; like an island full of evergreens, a touch of a hand he had known better than his own, and a promise of forever whispered against soft lips he thought he’d be kissing his whole life.

It causes him to sit there in his bedchamber, basking in the selfishness and treachery of his family in the wake of his father’s death.

Live in it.

Let it become him.

It is the only way he can deal with all of it.

The Prince’s solitude is broken by Ser Criston, the newly appointed Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, entering his bedchamber.

“You’ve been called to the council chamber, my Prince.”

Aemond nods then stands, knowing that whatever they are summoning him for, he shall do.

For the victory of his family.

For the unspoken promise of the crown to one day be put upon his head.

---

Aemond is one of the last to arrive at the council chamber. His mother, the Dowager Queen, and his grandfather, the Hand of the King, were already on either side of King Aegon once the doors shut for the small council to start their meeting.

There is a map of Westeros laid on the table that they are all gathered around. As they discuss, there are pieces getting placed on different areas on the map to represent which Houses are for Aegon or for Rhaenyra – and of the latter, which Houses they can possibly turn to rescind their loyalty to Rhaenyra and bend the knee to Aegon instead.

Aemond cannot help the sinking feeling in his stomach when he sees Ser Tyland Lannister place a black pawn piece on a tiny island just North-West of Winterfell – Bear Island.

“The Mormonts?! For Rhaenyra ?” King Aegon scoffs out a laugh. “Surely they’ll be willing to bend the knee to me–” Aegon catches his younger brother’s gaze, a hopeful and gleeful smile spreading on his lips, “Right, brother?”

But Aemond simply breaks eye contact from him, looking back down at the piece on the island, devoid of any emotion. The answer of silence from Aemond has the King’s smile falling slowly.

From beside Aegon, Queen Alicent looks at her second son in an expression quite hard to read.

Is it pity… or guilt?

Only the Queen knows.

And maybe the one who speaks up next.

“It would be a waste of time, Your Grace,” Otto Hightower says gruffly. He does not seem to be in turmoil like the Queen is though, only obviously very frustrated at how politically unsavvy the new King is. “The Mormonts will follow where the Starks go, like most Houses of the North. So if we were to do any negotiating up there, we should focus on the Starks instead.”

“The Wolf of the North is as stubborn and loyal as the other Heads of House Stark that came before him,” Orwyle, the Grand Maester, says. “Cregan Stark might have written back to us back that he does not care for the politics of the South, but if push comes to shove, I fear they will stay with the Blacks.” “Not only that,” Ser Criston begins, “His younger brother, Willam, is also a part of Rhaenyra’s Queen’s Guard.”

“So we just give up the North?!” Alicent questions, exasperated. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“For now ,” Otto says in a tone that also tells his daughter to get her wits about her, keep her emotions in check. “So we should pivot our attention on a House we can sway to our side–” He leans forward, tapping on the black pawn piece on Storm’s End, eyes flicking to Aemond when he does so, “I propose for Prince Aemond to go to Storm’s End, break bread with Lord Borros Baratheon and bring their powerful House over to our side. Offer yourself to betrothed one of his daughters if need be. I say you ride there now, show them the promised consequence of their refusal by landing in on Vhagar.”

Alicent sucks in a breath, looking from her father then to her son. She cannot believe her father would just suggest this when they’ve not discussed this beforehand. “Aemond…” His eye finds her when she calls for him. The blank look on his face has her frowning. “Are you willing to do this… for us?”

Then he smiles, but it does not quite reach his eye. It is just there to placate her and everyone around.

“Of course, mother,” Aemond says, dipping his head in a bow. “I’ll do whatever I have to.” He then nods to his grandfather. “For the name of our House and the throne.” And then to his brother. “For the King.”

The Queen looks to her father, finds him already looking at her.

Aren’t you glad? The grin on the Hand’s face says. That we intervened all those years ago? And now Aemond is still free to betrothed a woman that will help with our cause?

No! Alicent wants to scream, but instead she just turns away, watching the back of her second son as he leaves the council room to do what was asked of him. A foreboding feeling twists in her stomach.

---

It all went wrong.

It has all gone horribly wrong .

Aemond takes fast and hasty steps through the halls of the Keep, his hurried breathing near hyperventilating. The rain that showered him on his flight home on Vhagar has already dried, but he still feels the heaviness of it over his body.

He disturbs his family and some of the members of the King’s small council when he bursts through the door of the hall as they feast their dinner. His mother stands up in worry at the sight of the anguish on his face, asking him what was wrong. What happened?

Aemond’s mouth opens, and he blurts it all out.

That Lucerys Velaryon, his nephew, came to Storm’s End while he was in the middle of negotiating with Borros Baratheon.

That he simply just wanted to scare the boy, threatening to take out his eye for the one the young man had taken from him.

That it was Arrex’s – Lucerys’ dragon – fault for angering Vhagar.

That he tried to stop Vhagar but she did not listen to him.

That he ended up taking more than just Lucerys’ eye.

The Dowager Queen crumples to the floor, a hand pressed to her mouth to suppress the agonizing cries that want to spill out, tears streaming down her eyes to mourn for a son that is not her own.

Aemond watches his mother, murmuring for her dear friend, the one she grew up with and the one she was losing in this game of thrones – only held together loosely with a string of love that they woven so strongly when they were just little girls. But after tonight, it will be completely severed.

“We have to tell her,” Alicent sobs. “We need to tell Rhaenyra. This one… This one we can’t keep from her. She deserves to know .”

But the small council present ignores her to argue amongst themselves, shouting over the other of which way is the best way to approach this unfortunate event. Aemond then feels eyes on him, and when he turns, he sees that it is Helaena looking at him — horrified — clutching her nearly four years old twin babes closely to her side, the kids terrified at all the shouting. To make matters worse, even Aegon seems disturbed at what he had done. Aegon – the man who is known to lay his rough hands on women who do not want his touch and betted coins on feral children to fight for their lives in the rat pits of Flea Bottom.

Then his mother glances up from where she is still a heap on the floor, and even she cannot stop the flicker of disdain when she meets her second son’s gaze.

Kinslayer , their voices scream at him in his head.

There is a constricting pressure in his chest, threatening to arrest his heart if he did not get away.

Perhaps he should just stay put and let the Stranger take him.

An eye for an eye. A son for a son.

But Aemond turns around instead, storming out the door from whence he had just came from.

Though his mind is numb and blank, his feet keep moving, taking him somewhere.

Where Aemond finds himself is in front a set of dark double doors and he should have known this is where his overflow of grief and remorse would mindlessly take him. Looking upon it, he lets out a shuddering breath — before he is pushing the handle to let himself inside.

The pungent smell of death hits his nostril as soon as he steps inside. It almost made him turn right around, but he pushes through and swallows down the bile threatening to come out of him. Aemond was not even surprised about the horrid smell. The small council now puppeteering his fool of a brother did this : left his father secretly decaying in his deathbed for the past week, all so they can conspire behind the back of his half-sister Rhaenyra without her even knowing that her father was dead.

The Silent Sisters took his father’s body away last night, working on the process to finally let him rest properly. Maybe that is why Aemond could not even mourn him. How can you mourn someone that was made to be thought of as alive?

Aemond closes the door behind him, looking around his father’s room. He has not been here in so long – even way before his father’s death in this room.

The prince did not want to admit it but… He hated the sight of his father in the last few years of his life. The disease that plagued the late King Viserys made him look like a husk of a man, rotting his flesh from the inside out. And when the sickness took Viserys’ eye, hollowed out the socket that he had to wear a gold mask to hide the sight of it from his people; Aemond did not feel any solace of a bond between them. If anything, there was this little voice in the back of Aemond’s head that said that is not what a king ought to look like.

Aemond regrets it, but there is nothing he can do about it now.

The miniature model of Old Valyria that his father once poured all his free time over lay in the middle of the solar more lifeless than before, with the webbing of spiders on every surface and corners of the blocks of buildings. Aemond walks up to it and swipes his hand through the webs in an attempt to make the model look like what it once was, when his father was alive and well enough to take care of it.

While doing so, Aemond accidentally knocks something over onto the floor. When he bends down to pick it up, he sees in his hand a wooden model of dragon.

He made this.

With…

To hold back happy memories made bitter through the years, he thinks about it more broadly. He made this with the Mormont siblings and their old Maester Garland who loved to make miniature models like his father did. Aemond gave it to his father after he came from one of his travels, and his father smiled at him so lovingly and pulled up a stool for Aemond to sit and they spent the rest of the day in this solar, his father telling him stories of the place their ancestors came from.

The memory makes Aemond smile sadly.

Perhaps wherever his father and Maester Garland are now, they are free to build a miniature model of the whole of Westeros together, if the New and Old Gods are merciful and kind and allowed them to.

Maybe Lucerys is there with them too.

Aemond puts his shaking hand against his mouth and takes a shuddering breath, remembering once again what he had done. He paces the room, his body shivering and beading in sweat at the dreadful thought.

And that is when he sees it, from the corner of his eye, in the far wall of his father’s solar, peeking behind a bunch of things hoarded inside the room. He knows what it is, so he does not know why he starts to move the many piles of books and boxes holding various items to get to it.

He is heavily breathing by the time he has made enough room for a path for him to get to it.

The backing board of the golden frame leaning on the wall is what faces him when he reaches it. He takes a deep inhale as he fingers swipe across the dust collected on the frame, remembering just how it got there.

It had to be at least two years ago when he furiously grabbed the golden frame off from where it hung on the wall in his bedchamber. It was the last thing in his life that reminded him of the bears on Bear Island, the rest already burnt into ashes under Vhagar’s fire. He strode through Maegor’s Holdfast carrying the heavy frame, determined with just his rage. Another courier had just returned and informed him that the youngest Lady of Bear Island turned him away, grimacing at the sight of the gift.

And that was it. That was the last straw. Aemond was done trying.

It was his mother that caught him in the act, the undeniable fury in her son’s features and the sight of the golden frame made her face fall.

“What are you doing?!” Alicent asked in a panic, placing herself in front of him and grabbing onto his arms to stop him in his tracks.

“I’m taking this where it belongs. Under Vhagar’s fire.”

His mother shook her head, disapproving of his plans.

“I… I know she has not written to you, or accepted any of the couriers you sent to her, but…” Alicent pressed her lips together, looking away as tears swell in her eyes. “I don’t want you to regret it if you burn your memory of her.”

“Why would I regret it? I’m just treating her how she had treated me. She’s dead to m–”

“Aemond!” Alicent admonished, glaring at him. Aemond did not know why his mother was taking her side. It puzzled him. He watched his mother take a deep breath, and then she turned to him again. “Come, I know a place you can take it. A place where it will be out of your sight forever… Or at least until you can bear to look at it again.”

Then before he could disagree, his mother took one side of the heavy frame, helping him carry it. As they walked together, she refused the help of any of the guards. Her face was unreadable as to why, but the weight of the painting was heavy on her back.

When they stopped in front of his father’s door, Aemond questioned why — his mother knew he hated it in there.

“Exactly,” Alicent said with a sad smile. “You’ll never step foot in here unless you have to… So it is the perfect place.”

And as always. His mother was right. Now he stands there, looking at the backing board of the painting and is desperate to see the face that would stare back at him once he turns it around.

So he does.

At the sight of your gentle smiling face, Aemond falls to his knees, grabbing onto the sides of the golden frame. His heart clenching so much so.

As much as it hurts to look upon you, you still give him a sense of relief as well. It’s confusing. It’s terrifying – how you still have such a hold on him when he has tried so hard to make the taste of your name his mouth so bitter that he has to spit it out.

Seeing your face again has him thinking crazy thoughts. That maybe, just maybe, if he can see you again, maybe you’ll tell him the real reason why you’ve spurned him. Maybe it was all a big misunderstanding. Maybe it was his fault. Maybe then he can tell you of everything that has happened, the pain and guilt in his heart. Maybe then you’ll wrap your arms around, comfort his hurting heart in a way that he knows only you could do.

And that’s when he thinks, fuck it…

He needs to see you again. He will see you again.

---

Vhagar knows that her bonded rider is not pleased with her. When they had returned to King’s Landing earlier that day, Prince Aemond did not pat her snout for a job well done like he usually does, he had just walked away in complete silence. She stared after him, the taste of dragon flesh mixed with human flesh still on her tongue.

So when Aemond climbed up onto her back that evening, no words or command were spoken to her – but she just knew where he wanted to go.

The storm follows them in their travel up North. Although the rain is heavy on their backs, Vhagar lands at her pit on Bear Island past midnight and in three days time – a record for the she-dragon.

Mormont guards meet Prince Aemond at the wooden gate of the wall surrounding the keep, and they escort him inside. Aemond tries not to tear up at the feeling of home as he follows behind them.

It is Braeden Mormont who greets Aemond at the entrance hall, a look of utter shock on his face at the sight of the prince – looking more and more like his father Lord Mormont than from the last time Aemond saw him. There is a woman by his side – Rebeca, his childhood friend and now wife – carrying a young, sleeping girl of what looks to be of age 5 – Marjorie, born during one of the years Aemond could not visit and the reason Braeden did not travel to King’s Landing for the wedding.

“Ae–” Braeden catches himself, “Prince Aemond, what are you doing here and at this hour?”

Eyes wild and words hurried, Aemond does not even hear him and questions him instead, “Your sister. Where is she? I need to see her.”

He must have looked so manic that Braeden gently brings his wife and child behind his back as he steps forward towards the prince, a protective papa bear. “My prince… I… I’m sorry to tell you but… My sister… She does not live on Bear Island anymore.”

Aemond’s heart stutters. Dread on as to why that is already dawning on him, but like a fool, he still asks anyway, “Why… Why doesn’t she live here anymore?”

Braeden frowns at him, pity and confusion mixed together. “She lives in Harrenhal now, my prince... With her Lord-Husband, Jeremy Strong.”

Aemond can feel his heart shattering into a million tiny pieces, his hand clenching over it...

Jeremy Strong, who has the same coloring as Aemond’s nephew, Lucerys Velaryon – brown hair, brown eyes; instead of the Targaryen and Velaryon silver hair and purple eyes. Jeremy Strong, the man that shares the same name and blood with his uncle, Ser Harwin Strong, who was the rumored lover of Rhaenyra Targaryen during her first marriage with Laenor Velaryon – the reason why Aemond and his brothers call their nephews the Strong boys, implying their bastardness and their illegitimacy to the throne…

Wherever Lucerys is now, he must be smiling at how karma tastes — sweet like justice.

---

You awaken with a sudden gasp, your chest heaving, and a maddening thrumming in between your thighs.

The intangible dream of hurried mouth against mouth and a gaze filled with burning desire slipping through your fingertips with every second you become more aware of reality.

When your sleepy eyes flutter to take in your surroundings, it is your husband’s honeyed brown eyes you find, already on you.

Jeremy Strong’s immediate reaction is to turn away, embarrassed for being caught. His face is flushed pink when he mutters to the wall, “I apologize for staring, my l– La–” he stumbles his words, growing more red, then clears his throat, “My love.”

You do not know if you should smile with amusement or frown at how unsure he sounded.

I should tell him that it is quite alright for him to look upon me, for I am his, afterall.

But you have a feeling you would sound just as unsure as he had been if you said that aloud, so you forgo the thought. Instead you just tell him softly, “It’s alright, Jeremy.”

You sit up then, back against the headboard of the bed the two of you share, and watch as your Strong husband gets ready for his day.

Jeremy already has on his breeches, a heavy bulge straining at the front. Your whole body light afire at the sight of it, knowing it is probably there because of what he had witnessed while you were still asleep. Though the dream is far away from you now, the evidence of it is still wet between your legs.

When Jeremy throws a white tunic over his head, your gaze is on his body, transfixed. From the sparsely grown dark curls on his broad and muscular chest and down his navel, to the freckles splattered across his toned shoulders from working hard under the sun, and then to the healed scar on his left bicep from a spar with his older brother (you had smiled when you first saw it and when he told you the story, reminding you of your own from Jorah).

Just when he pulls the tunic down to cover himself completely, that is when he catches you and your ogling. Your eyes are quick to fall to where your hands lay on the furs around your body.

For two people who have spoken their vows to each under the eye of the Weirwood tree five long moons ago, you and your husband are embarrassingly still acting like blushing maidens around the other.

When your heartbeat evens, you brave glancing up at him again to ask, “What are your plans for the day?”

While shrugging on a dark brown leather jacket to fight the autumn chill, Jeremy says, “I will be overseeing the hunt today. I want to make sure we have enough rabbits for when your brother arrives.”

A warmth of tenderness spreads in your chest, your husband’s thoughtfulness causing you to smile.

In two days time, Jorah and Renee should be arriving in Harrenhal for a visit before they travel further south to settle in one of the villages in the Reach. It’s Jorah’s first time truly leaving Bear Island so Jeremy had wanted to make his favorite stew that your mother makes to ease his nervousness for the next big change in his life.

Jeremy even extended an invitation for Dorothea and her husband to visit as well, and they would be arriving in a day from Riverrun. You had not seen any of your family since your wedding so you are elated to see your dear sister and brother again.

Jeremy then turns towards you, and you softly awe at how truly beautiful he is with his kind, perpetually sleepy eyes and strong nose chiseled by the Gods themselves.

“Will you be hosting the kids for painting today?” Jeremy asks as he walks over to your side of bed.

“Yes, after noon,” you tell him just as he stops just beside where you are.

“Good, that’s, uh, good… Talia, she… she loves it,” he says, speaking for his niece.

“I’m glad,” you tell him with a small smile. “She is as talented as my sister.”

“She has a good teacher,” he compliments bashfully, only meeting your eyes for just a few seconds. Then he turns to the window, brows narrowed at the bleak view. “I should head out. They are most likely already waiting for me.”

You hum and nod, watching him from under long lashes. And this time, when his gaze turns to meet yours again, neither of you look away.

Then he is bending towards you, a slight hesitation in his movement but he pushes through, tucking his fingers around your chin to lift your face towards him. You find yearning in those mellow, golden browns; tender devotion that you do not think you have done anything to deserve.

But through the years, you’ve become greedy for intimacy, and it has come to a point when you just want to take, and take, and take. So when you lick your lips and your husband’s gaze flickers down to follow the movement of your tongue, you flutter your eyes shut in hopes for something that will get your heart racing.

What you feel though is but a chaste kiss pressed onto your forehead for a long second.

Then the closeness of him is gone.

When you open your eyes in obvious disappointment, Jeremy is sheepishly rubbing his hand behind his neck.

“I’ll be back for supper; so I’ll see you then… I, um, hope you have a good day, my love.”

Then he leaves and you cannot help but to glare after him.

Your poor, sweet Lord Husband only wishes to be respectful towards you but all you can do is burn him with your gaze, your hands clutching on the bedsheet in frustration.

Huffing, you plop back down on the pillows below you, desperately wishing you could have stayed in your dreamland a little bit longer.

---

It is Alys Rivers who enters your bedchamber next with a gentle knock, a little bit after your husband had departed.

But when your lady-in-waiting glides into the room, she is anything but gentle, with her feline-like eyes lined with kohl and her beautiful tresses as dark as the nights at Bear Island during the late Winter months. Even from the first time you met her, you knew she was a force to be reckoned with.

Although all that doesn’t make Alys any less sweet.

“My lady, why haven’t you gotten up? It is unladylike to wallow in bed when the birds are already singing,” Alys chides, but there is jest in her tone.

“There are no birds in Harrenhal, Alys,” you tell her, getting up finally at her behest. You frown out the window, dark clouds in the skies – like always. “Only crows.”

“But they still sing,” Alys says with a smile as she stands behind you when you sit on the chair in front of the vanity.

The crows do not sing . They caw and they rattle and they click, loud in their mourning. Perhaps to always remind the ones who still live in the largest castle in the Seven Kingdoms of the last tragedy that befell in one the towers just a little more than a decade ago – continuing on the curse that is said to permeate through the walls of Harrenhal. How the previous head of House Strong, Lord Lyonel, and his heir, Ser Harwin Strong, burned to a painful death in a blazing fire that trapped them inside their chambers.

It was an awful story to hear. You can still picture the tears in your husband’s eyes when he told it to you. He was just a boy of ten and one when it happened, but the guilt for not being able to do anything still haunts him. He looked up to uncle so much, the valiant knight that once protected Princess Rhaenyra as her sworn shield – or, Queen Rhaenyra now.

You wonder why your first love never talked about Ser Harwin Strong before, for he sounded so good and righteous and brave like a knight of the Realm should be. He had told you tales of the other knights — like Ser Criston Cole, the Cargyll twins, Ser Harrold Westerling, and even his uncle, Prince Daemon Targaryen. But never of Ser Harwin.

“Your face will stay that way if you keep it up, my Lady,” Alys says with a light chuckle, breaking you from your thoughts. You huff a laugh back, softening your features.

Alys starts to brush your hair like your mother did, like Dorothea did, and for that, you are grateful for her. Alys’ presence brings you so much comfort in these cold stone walls. She is the only friend you have in Harrenhal besides your husband.

With your hair done in two loose double dutch fishtail braids, Alys moves to the wooden armoire. “What would you like to wear today, my Lady?”

“The violet dress, please,” is your instant answer, knowing it will cheer you up during this dull day.

It is the one Dorothea made for you to wear to her wedding (your sister excitedly sent you a letter moons before her wedding with a sample of the fabric she had found in one of the shops in Riverrun that she knew became your favorite color ever since you were ten and two), it is the one you spent wearing most your days while at King’s Landing, and it is the one you were wearing when your prince kissed you that one last time before you had to leave his side –

“Ah… Lord Jeremy’s favorite,” Alys says with a knowing smirk.

Your face flushes because you cannot even deny it. Whenever you wore the violet dress, the timidness in your Lord Husband disappears, replaced with longing desire.

Both Dorothea and Alys had told you before about how Jeremy had been smitten with you ever since the two of you met at Dorothea and Tobias’ wedding in Riverrun all those years ago. The latter of the two told you how the young Strong man came back to Harrenhal after the wedding and talked her ear off for hours about you – when all you had done at the wedding was accidentally made it known that you did not like the dish Jeremy made for the feast and stepped on his toes a few too many times when your mother forced you to dance with him.

At least he is a far better cook now, and you are a better dancer as well.

“You’ve not bled yet this moon, right, my Lady?” Alys asks suddenly.

You shake your head as you stand to move by her side. “I’ve not, but I think my cycle is just irregular.”

Alys hums knowingly with a frown. As your only confidant in Harrenhal, Alys knows that although you and your husband share the same bed every night, it does not mean the two of you have consummated the marriage.

“I overheard Ser Simon talking to Maester Fishl last night, my Lady,” Alys starts, already clearly frustrated at her own mention of the two elderly men, “He wants to know why you are not with child yet… He wants the maester to check up on you,” she then takes your hands in hers, fury in her tone and dark eyes, “I do not like the thought of these horrid men poking and prodding at your body, my Lady. Tell Lord Jeremy to waste his seed in a cup. Bring it to me and I’ll find a way for it to take in your womb without him having to touch you.”

You give her a watery smile, so touched at your lady-in-waiting’s care for you. Squeezing her hand, you tell her, “That won’t be necessary, my sweet Alys. The reason I have not lain with my husband is not because I find him to be grotesque... Actually… I find him quite the opposite… He is handsome and loving and not at all like the other men in his family. But I just needed time to…” Your head shakes, laughing to yourself, “Just… time.”

Alys sighs, nodding in acceptance. “If you say so, my Lady. But I hope you know, my offer will forever stand.”

“I know,” you murmur softly with a smile. “Thank you, Alys.”

Then you wrap your arms around her in a tender hug.

---

You spend the rest of your day helping the castle servants in any way you can. Although you are a Lady of a vassal House, you did not have the same luxuries as the Lords and Ladies of House Strong. You grew up doing your own chores, cleaning up after yourself, and helping with other duties around Mormont Keep. So you do the same in Harrenhal, finding comfort in the little things.

You help the kitchen staff prep for supper. You wash, sew, and repair clothes with the maids. You tend to the horses with the stable boys. Then finally, after sitting in while the septa teach the children, you turn the common room into an art class, with an easel for all the youngins present – it is your favorite part of your day.

As you float around the room to give each child your attention, there is an ache in your heart. You miss your nieces and nephews so wholly. From Jeor and his little sister, Marjorie, on Bear Island – looking more and more like Braeden every day – to Dorothea’s twins, Talis and Lyanna – a perfect copy of her and Forrest, just with Tully clear blue eyes.

It also has you desperately longing for one or two – or five , like your mother had – of your own in the future.

You used to dream of a babe with silver hair and amethyst eyes. But now you will not mind one bit for one with brown hair and honeyed eyes as warm as the summer sun.

The man with those same eyes meets you by the doors of the small hall later for supper, his gaze hungrily taking you in your violet dress with a hard swallow.

“How did the hunt go?” You ask, taking his arm extended towards you.

“Your brother will be sick of rabbit stew once he leaves Harrenhal,” Jeremy answers with a coy grin as he leads you inside the small hall.

“That is quite an ambitious feat, my Lord Strong,” you tease as he pulls back a chair for you to sit on.

“And it is an ambitious feat I dare to take on. For my brother-in-law’s happiness is also my lovely wife’s happiness, my Lady Strong,” he says when he sits beside you, taking your hand to place a dainty kiss on your knuckles.

Because of that, there is a flutter in your stomach that stays there while the men of House Strong drone on about politics and other things that do not interest you during supper. You always try to pay a little bit of attention but your thoughts always drift you away. You only get snapped out of your reverie of seeing Dorothea and her twins and Jorah again soon when the castellan of House Strong and temporary Head of the House in the stead of Lord Larys Strong still at King’s Landing, Simon Strong, says your name.

You turn to your husband’s grandfather, letting him know you have his attention now with a slight lean in his direction at the head of the table.

“There will no longer be time for the juvenile art classes you’ve been holding, today was the last. We need the boys to spend more time training and the girls learning more useful pastimes,” Ser Simon commands gruffly.

Unable to stop yourself, you glare back. “They’re children, Ser Simon.”

The oldest child in the group is a boy of only seven years.

Ser Simon huffs out roughly. “Do tell me, my Lady. But don’t they train even the women to fight on Bear Island?”

“Yes, but we have wildlings and Ironmen landing on our shores, trying to pillage our home. But that’s—”

“And now we have two dragons fighting for a throne, dragging everyone in the Seven Kingdoms into their war – that includes women and children, if your mind can wrap around that, my Lady,” he interrupts you. Hidden from view, your fists clench on your lap at the way you are being talked down to like you are just a child.

Then you feel a soft touch, a warm hand over your fist, comforting in every way. When you glance at your husband, his fierce glare is on his grandfather. “I will see to it that the boys spend more time on the training field, grandfather. But they will also continue their painting lessons with my wife once a week. Just because a war is coming, it does not mean we should take the children’s joy away along with their precious youth.”

“My Talia loves her painting lessons with her aunt,” Ser Sean, Jeremy’s older brother, pipes up. Then he turns to the girl of just 6 beside him. “Don’t you, honey?”

From across the table, Talia nods excitedly before she beams brightly at you. Your heart melts at the sight.

Ser Simon huffs again, but relents. “Fine. But if I find the children lacking in their training then it will be done for good.”

You and Jeremy both thank him, before you turn to your husband, a small and appreciative thank you on your lips. His hand closes tighter around yours as he smiles warmly back.

---

After supper, Jeremy walks you to the southern parts of the castle, to a room far from the bedchamber you share with him but one that you spend the most of your time in since arriving in Harrenhal. Jeremy drops you off with a kiss on your cheek, leaving you to enter by yourself, knowing you like your time alone sometimes.

As soon as you walk in, you are hit with the precious scent of chamomile and pine — reminding you of both your mother and father. Instantly, you feel as though you are at home, which was the exact reason why Jeremy gifted you this room.

In your first few weeks at Harrenhal, you were visibly very miserable although you tried your hardest not to be. But the walls are too cold and depressing, even colder than Bear Island, for the walls of your home had the warmth of wood and the sound of laughter drifting out of every room. So Jeremy found the room in the castle with the largest window – a fault in the build, but now your blessing in disguise – that the sun actually shines in when it appears sometime when the skies are cloudless. Then he built wooden shelves that now line all the walls, hiding the stone behind it to appear more like the rooms back home. Now they hold all your favorite things – like gifts from your family, the books you love to read, and material for your crafts.

It is one of the most thoughtful and loving gifts you have ever received, and you cherish your husband for it so much.

As you close the door behind, you see that Alys had already been in and lit up the lamps and kindled the fireplace for you to spend the rest of your evening in here before heading to bed. She had also watered and tended the plants that bring life to the small room, her knowledge and green thumb far better than yours.

You cross the room to sit at your desk, pulling out a piece of parchment and the golden writing quill that your first love had given to you. And once again, like every night since you arrived back home on Bear Island after the Targaryen sibling’s wedding, you write to him — just like you had promised him you would.

The only time you had stopped was just this past week, for you had received some news from both your eldest brothers that was quite hard to digest.

It was Braeden’s raven scroll that came first:

To my dearest Little Cub, I truly don’t know how to tell you this news, so I’ll just come out with it. Prince Aemond came tonight looking for you — looking like a wild man that I’ve never seen before. He did not give me the chance to ask or get an answer for anything else, for once he heard where you were, he stormed out and flew away on Vhagar. I’m so terribly sorry I did not do more, and I hope my inaction does not cause your heart more pain and confusion. Yours always and forever, Braeden

And then Forrest’s came two days after, a letter filled with angry scratches of thoughts unable to come out properly:

He’s gone. Luke is gone. I promised to protect him but he’s just gone, Little Cub. What kind of knight am I if I cannot even protect the young boy who reminds me so much of our brother. I just keep picturing Jorah dying that terrible death… Sister… They say it was Prince Aemond and Vhagar that took the life of Lucerys and Arrex. How can he do this? What the hell happened to the boy we grew up with? I know you do not know the answer since he has made himself scarce in your life and ours but still… Luke did not deserve this. I saw him swear on his life in front of his mother and under the Eyes of the Seven that he will not partake in any fighting. And I know that little boy like he is my own little brother, and I know he did not break his word. Whatever happened, it is the fault of Aemond, and Aemond alone.

You could feel your brother’s pain emitting from every word he had written. You wept alone in the same room you are in now for the boy you had only met once before. His young, cherubic face and sweet pleasantries to Princess Helaena burning in your mind.

When you first read Forrest’s letter, the hopefulness you felt from Braeden’s news quickly evaporated. You were so distraught, you could not believe it. Unlike your Septa Earla’s tales about Prince Aemond when you were younger, these ones are more unbelievable. A kinslayer. Aemond is now a kinslayer. How much has he changed in the last 4 years, 5 month, and 8 days since you last saw him that he has become someone who can take the life of his young nephew?

How could he be so different from the one you once knew, your best friend, the first and only man you have ever loved?

You have always been optimistic, and you know in your heart that whatever it was that caused Aemond to stop writing to you was not his fault. That it was something else keeping him from you. Perhaps he was even doing it to protect you. You just hoped he has read your and knows you are always thinking of him.

But with all that has unfolded, you are certain he did not get any of your letters – even the ones you sent while you were at Riverrun and in Harrenhal. Which could only mean that someone had been tampering your communication with your prince.

Can you be that high on yourself to think that your love could have prevented all this from happening?

You are not sure, but what you are sure of is that now you think you are in a better headspace to write to your first love again, ready to lay your heart out on paper once more.

You write that you want to ease the pain and burden he has suffered throughout the years, knowing there is probably plenty for him to do something so terrible. You wish you could have been there for him during the death of his father, the way you were there for your husband when his father died just a few moons ago. You wish you could have celebrated all your name days together, for every last one you had the past four years, something was missing. You write that you still want him in your life. Perhaps not as his lover, but just as his best friend once again…

With all that said, what you write to end the letter was:

But I think it’s time to let you go, my prince.

You did not even realize you had been crying until you taste the salt on your lips. After wiping the tears, you fold the letter up and seal it with wax, stamping it with the House Strong coat of arms instead of the Mormont sigil.

You stand then, letter in hand, walking to the hearth of the fire.

Just as you are about to throw the letter in, gone into the flames and unanswered like all the others you had written —- something stops you.

You want to keep it, the last letter that you poured out your feelings on. It is important to you, so you want to keep it as a reminder.

On one of the shelves, you pull out a heavy book and slip it in between the pages.

Shutting it, you stare at the cover with your heart aching at a memory. With your fingers, you trace the title… It is your prince’s favorite book, so it is the perfect place for keeping your last words for him.

Smiling sadly, you shelve the book back in its place. Then with one last look around the room, knowing you will not be spending as much time in there like you had before, you walk out the door.

Jeremy is already comfortably in bed with just a sleeping shirt and smallclothes on when you slip into the room.

He places the book down he was reading on the bedside table and stands as soon as he sees you, looking surprised. “Hey, uh… You’re back earlier than usual.”

You give him a small shrug and that sweet, gentle smile of yours. “I think I just missed you, that’s why.”

Jeremy splutters, cheeks and ears turning red, looking like he did not quite catch what you said. It is as if he can’t even fathom you saying that to him. “Wha– uh…?”

Your stomach swoops in regret at the insecure look that flashes on your husband’s face. Was it really that unbelievable?

Though you are kind to your husband, you know you have not been very forthcoming with your feelings. If anything, you have kept him at an arm’s length, always close and yet not close enough — and Jeremy, sweet and docile Jeremy, does not seem to mind at all, just happy for anything he gets from you. You are sure if you asked him to eat out of the palm of your hand, he would. But you are not cruel. At least not in that way. You are just closed off, guarded with your heart – and that is not entirely your fault either. If you could, you’d give Jeremy your everything. You want to — so, so much. But it’s just not that easy.

But now, as you step closer and closer to where he stands frozen in his spot, you want to try .

Once in front of him, you gently push your palm on his chest, coaxing him to sit back down on the bed. You climb on top of him when he does, and his honeyed brown eyes are gazing at you like you are the sun, the moon, and all of the stars.

You look at him just the same.

Then as you thread your fingers through the soft, brown curls at the back of his head, you bend down to finally press your lips against his – for the first time since the two of you said your vows.

Though his hands grip tight onto your hips, Jeremy still parts from you, sadness and more hesitation in those baby browns, “Are you sure.. I know another has your heart…” He bites his bottom lip, downcast, “You still dream of him.”

You cup his face, forcing him to face you and the tender smile on your lips. “No, Jeremy…” you begin, pressing your forehead against his. “This morning when I woke… It was you I was dreaming of.”

Your confession makes him exhale out a breath, hopeful. “Truly?”

You graze the tip of your nose against his as you nod, sharing the air he breathes. “Truly…”

Then it is Jeremy who captures your lips again, desperate and wanting.

And as the two of you take turns stripping the other between hurried kisses; you think that maybe, just maybe, it is possible for you to love someone new.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #hotd imagine #hotd smut #hotd #aemond #aemond targaryen

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ride-thedragon · 2 days

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Why Rhaena does not have Nettles' Narrative.

First things first, the tweet to launch 1000 posts.

Everyone was freaking out because

A. It's so close to the premiere

B. It's been around for a while.

This whole Nettles being replaced by Rhaena theory started during the airing of the first show. People really got into supporting Daemon and Rhaenyra as a couple, and rather than viewing Nettles as a full character realised, she was viewed as a hindering plot point towards our favourite incest ship. So the first person I remember saying it said something along the lines of "What if Rhaena replaced Nettles?".

That spiralled within that space and became almost a counterpart to Nettles being Daemon's bastard daughter. Both of these arguments are often used to deter the romantic narrative Daemon and Nettles have, not to benefit Nettles in any way.

Now I can't vouch for the original poster's validity, but I can point out flaws with what they say.

"Rhaena will claim a sheep eating dragon (Sheepstealer) in the Vale after tracking it for some time."

Counterpoints:

1. Rhaena has her dragon eggs.

In the books, Rhaneyra gives Rhaena dragon eggs to take to the Vale, hoping that it will hatch to her. We see them in the trailer. Similar to Dany's eggs, which, if you're interested, I have a post on Nettles, Rhaena, and Daenerys.

2. Claiming Dragons.

This one almost works as well, but it has a few issues. The time frame, what seems to be occurring in the Vale, and the dragonseed plot.

A. 8 episodes for one season is not a lot of time, but we do have a timeline for what occurs, and the start of the sowing is in episode 7. There isn't enough time for Rhaena to both track Sheepstealer and follow him, seeing as her and Baela seem to be in the Vale before Rook's Rest.

B. What's going on in the Vale?

Rhaena and Baela seem to be both at the Vale before Rook's Rest, and then Baela flies into combat alongside Rhaenys. Then Baela stays on Dragonstone and Driftmark during the sowing as she's at the table. RHAENA IS NOT THERE. This is after the sowing because we see Ulf, Addam, and Hugh but not Rhaena or Nettles. All riders so far are accounted for.

C. This ties into the Dragonseed plot.

If Rhaena isn't there to fight, she doesn't have a dragon. But she is a ward of Jeyne Arryn with her Dragon eggs, like in the book.

3. Tracking it for some time.

This does make sense for two reasons.

A. Why would she try to claim a hungry dragon?

If Sheepstealer is hunting in the Vale, why would Rhaena try to claim a hungry dragon? Rhaena, unlike Nettles throughout the season, would have no precident to assume Sheepstealer wouldn't bend to her as a Targaryen. No one would've been killed in order to facilitate that thought for her at that point if Silver Denys is being killed in Episode 7. She also lives on Dragonstone. Why would she not try to claim him where he lives like a person with common sense?

B. Why is she tracking a wild Dragon?

She lives on Dragonstone, unironically.

The home of all the unclaimed dragons like Vermithor, Silverwing, and Seasmoke. Why would she seek out the wild dragons. Why would she, as he stepdaughter to the Queen, not get to claim all the tamed dragons?

Then, if she decides that she wants to try a wild dragon after all the tamed ones fail to bond with her, who around her would allow her to take that risk? Her stepmother, who just lost two children? Her grandmother who grants her dragonriding sister permission to stand at the council? Or the grandfather who just lost his heir?

I don’t think this is likely. What I think is happening is that she might try and fail at best to give her a narrative, which inspires Jace to send out the Dragonseed call. Are we not tired?

#hotd #house of the dragon #nettles #nettles asoiaf #netty #a song of ice and fire #rhaena of pentos #rhaena targaryen #morning #sheepstealer #nettles and Sheepstealer #rhaena and morning #why are we believeing leaks?#please stop hating on Rhaena #shes my child

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gravityglitch-blog · 1 day

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Even though it only has two episodes so far, watching "The Amazing Digital Circus" has been an experience. You can tell right away that there's something deeper going on with the story and characters. When watching something new, I know I'll be sticking around when I find myself attaching to a character.

For me, this happened first with Ragatha, because of her immediate kindness to a terrified newcomer.

(And of course, because I had a childhood rag doll very much like her. My "little rag dolly" was a good friend and guardian against the dark, back in the day.)

I also liked Pomni. I could feel her character's fear and confusion. And while these are often shown as her primary traits, I think there's more to her than that.

She did try to help Ragatha when she was glitching after encountering the abstracted Kaufmo. I know that she did abandon her search for help to pursue an exit, but I see this more as an act of confusion and desperation to escape what she still thought was a terrible nightmare, rather than an act of cowardice. Ragatha even forgives her in the following episode.

Potential spoilers from here

In-universe, only a day has passed between episodes. But I think Pomni is already showing character growth, as shown in her interactions with Gummigoo.

As an "enemy" in this Candy Kingdom adventure, she could fear him. As an NPC, she could ignore him entirely. But she doesn't. When she sees him hurting, she reaches out.

And this is the scene that made me love Pomni. Chaos hasn't destroyed her good heart. These lines really resonated with me. I often feel like I am nothing. On my worst days, I even believe it.

It means the world when a kind person reaches out to say, "you are not nothing."

By now, most of us know what happens in the episode from here. (Still angry about that Thanos-snap.) I know it's foolish to wish for a happy ending in an existential horror story, but I do think that Pomni could eventually bring renewed hope to the others trapped in the Circus. Maybe, just maybe, she'll even be the one to find the way out.

Thank you if you've read this far. This is just me rambling about a couple of new favorite characters in a story I'm still trying to understand. I do like the other characters, too, and maybe will write about them soon.

I'll also add this, because Ragatha's dainty little princess-run is just too cute

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #ragatha #pomni #fandom thoughts #you are not alone #you are not nothing

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godjustkys · 1 day

Note

Could you do Joey Tribbiani dating headcannons please?

| FRIENDS headcanons

please give requests.

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RATING: SFW/NSFW.

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STATUS: In a relationship.

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Pairing: AMAB!reader x Joey Tribbiani

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Warning(s): so, it's. A lot. Slight exhibitionism, mentions of overstim and bondage,,

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A/n: i love that goofy mf so much, good god. And I did this request so quickly for some reason..

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1 - Joey was awkward around you at first. Not only were you his bisexual awakening, but you're the first man he's ever dated. He wasn't ashamed of it, nor you. He was just.. trying to figure out how to be in a relationship with you, how to keep you. Joey thought that it was soo different from dating a girl, but it really wasn't.

2 - Once he came around and got significantly more comfortable around you, he would religiously speak about dates he wants to go on with you. He would come up with new, weirdly-adorable ideas each time, yet he would never execute them.

3 - Whenever you praise him, even if it's just a simple 'good job' leaving your mouth, he acts like that ↑. All flustered and sheepish, almost coy.

4 - BACK HUGS. he adores physical touch to the core, but hugs from the back are his go-to move. He would also say 'boo' with a grin when he'd hug you from behind. Joey thought it would scare you - it never does.

5 - Flirts with you at any chance he gets. Cheesy, corny pick-up lines in the middle of a serious moment cause he thinks you look attractive when angry/arguing.

6 - you cannot tell me this dude does not dance at random times, anywhere. He hears music he likes? Dancing. It's quiet? He dances to the music in his head, even if his movements are stiff and subtle.

7 - speaking of music, Joey will SHAME you for your music taste if he doesn't like the song. He'll go on a full rant, argue with you about it, then leave mid argument because he realized you were winning. He, exactly like in the gif, did the L sign to you as he left.

8 - After serious arguments, which you rarely have, Joey will apologise first, although very hesitantly. Either he's coming to you with a gift in his hands for compensation or he speaks to you in a soft and somber tone, giving a full speech. Needless to say, he's only stubborn when he doesn't feel guilt or regret.

9 - When you're talking and he's listening, he's really not. He's staring at you, admiring to the fullest. His gaze will never leave your figure. The moment you ask "are you listening?" Joey shrugs his shoulders because he knows for a fact he didn't listen to a thing you said, but then again he doesn't want to lie to you. You'd see right through him anyway.

10 - He's not shy in public, not about you nor your relationship. He is not afraid of PDA. Actually, he almost always holds your hand or has an arm around you. He loves spoiling you as well.

11 - He's so touchy. So so so touchy, even in public. One time, when you were at a restaurant, Joey started jerking you off under the table. Ecstatic feeling, truly, but so glad no one ever found out.

12 - Joey is not that sensitive, he lasts long and is proud of it. He brags about that to you, almost like he's begging for you to overstimulate him. Hence the fact, you did, once. Best night of his life - regrets not trying something like that sooner.

13 - LOVES you touching his pecs, oh my god. Despite not being sensitive, he is vocal and rambles during sex a lot. Nothing but praise, not fond of degradation.

14 - FOREPLAY IS SO IMPORTANT TO HIM. He wants to get riled up before sex, he wants to need it from you. He'd beg if you asked him to — generally obedient.

15 - Night shower sex = best sleep of your life after. His aftercare is good, really good. Makes sure you're okay, that you're clean, comfortable, gets you a drink or food if you want it. It is your aftercare that Joey longs for. He doesn't know why but you do it so much better than he does (in his eyes), even though your aftercare isn't vastly different from his.

16 - When Joey asks for a massage from you, it'll most definitely end up in sex if only you're in the mood for it. He moans and grunts when you massage him ONLY for the sake of you getting you hot and bothered.

17 - He hasn't tried a ton of kinks that he thinks he might have, but you ended up agreeing with his request to try bondage. Not the full BDSM type, but you had his wrists tied during it. Joey hated it because he couldn't touch you properly, but at the same time, he loved the thrill of it. He had bruises on his wrist the next day..

18 - he's all for quickies. Whether it would be after a stressful day, or just during a trip, in a secluded area. Not afraid of getting caught, at all.

19 - blowjobs. He doesn't care if he's the one receiving it or if he's the one giving oral. Just, blowjobs. He says it feels like "putting on warm fuzzy socks after a long walk on a cold winter day."

20 - Pinning him to a wall and acting dominant makes him hard very quickly. Melts under your touch, shivers, stutters, his breath gets heavy and erratic, is stiff and tense. Absolutely adores it though.

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niam. :3

#request #male reader #top male reader #dom male reader #ask #ask blog #fanfiction #joey tribbiani #joey tribbiani x reader #headcanon #fanfic #reqs open #friends #tv shows

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s0ft-d3cay · 2 days

Text

Our Home

Shigaraki x Male Reader | I had some family shit that came up so my writing might be more comforting and lovey dovey for a bit. Just a heads up! Hope you have a lovey day/night!!!!

WARNINGS: they make out, lots of kisses, cute domestic gay couple stuff because I need it, Tomura calls the reader a brat(Lovingly), its RELLY cute, use of Y/N

WC:1,273

"Do you want me to carry you home?" Tomura asked teasingly, the two coated in blood and dust equally. The remains of heroes now staining their clothing, Y/N couldn’t care less about the mess. Plus…the man had a way of making blood look hot on him and Y/N could never resist the sight of the liquid crimson on the other man’s pale skin.

His brain turned to mush at the small question, grinning as he wipes off his weapon. The mere idea of something so small and domestic made his heart skip. Y/N chuckle at his offer. "I would absolutely love for you to carry me home, Tomura." Y/N replied, the red eyed man grumbled out an order to the doctor. Black oil-like substance formed a poorly made portal to a lone watchtower, one Y/N had revamped to his home.

Ecstatic, Tomura moved to pick up the other man in his arms, holding him close against his chest. Looking down at Y/N with a winning smile nuzzling his cheek with his boyfriends. "You comfortable, brat?" Y/N chuckles. “Very, now come on I want you to see the house!” With an excited giggle, Y/N replied. His gaze taking in his pretty boyfriend, wandering over every detail of him.

Glances at the portal, Tomura turns his attention back towards Y/N, his expression glee and amusement as he replies. “You’re really hyping up this house of ours.” Walking through the transporting oil-like substance. Both of them now on the first floor of the watchtower. A lone two story compacted building surrounded by thick evergreen trees. Standing in front of the door to the house, a set of stairs lead to the second floor and ground below split a few feet from the door.

Tomura’s red eyes took in the environment around him silently, before he speaks up. "Your house is amazing. How did you find this?” He questioned in wonder, eyes still wavering over the building. Y/N chuckles, "Found it for sale years back, thought maybe one day I could take a break and rest.” He said bashfully with a shy smile, tilting his head towards the door in front of them. Three windows lined along the left side, sun catchers gleaming within the house. Turning and glowing with beaming rainbows cascading on the wooden deck.

The villain leaner steps in hesitantly. The house held a large bed beneath below the line and corner of windows, a full kitchen on the right in front of the door, and a couch in the far left corner of the room. The bed lays messily in sea-foam green covers, a few earthy tone rugs in rusted red and blotched greens. The kitchen fair full with a dishwasher, fridge, stone and microwave. And the lone gray couch set against the wall, what looks to be a projector hung up on the ceiling.

"It’s so lovely…feel like we’ve been here for years.” He commented with a grin, still holding the other man in his arms as he walks deeper into the house. Y/N's eyes fondly looking over all his hard work. The white haired man looking around in thought. His red eyes lingerer over the bed, "Do you mind if I…put you on the bed and we cuddle? I wanna lay with you.” He uttered softly, leaning down to press a kiss to the man’s forehead.

Y/N ponders the cuddling idea for a second before another idea come to mind. "Could I show you around the place real quick? Each room I show you, I’ll kiss you.” The man teasingly asked, his arms tightened around Tomura’s neck. "Please!” Y/N begged cutely, blinking rapidly as he playfully pouts.

“Hmm, sounds like we’re gonna have a lot of kisses...” He replies, chuckling as his eyes rolled. "I can see why you wanted to come here to relax, this place feels…cozy yet beautiful at the same time. You did an amazing job with finding this place, Y/N…” The villain praised sweetly with his raspy voice.

"And…the decorations as well as rebuilding, my love.” Y/N added on, placing a tender kiss to Tomura’s dry lips. His own soft and plush against his boyfriends rough ones. Feeling the hair white haired put him down to stand through the progressive heated kiss. "You did all of that? You truly are the jack of all trades.” The white haired man muttered out with a soft grin, kissing the man again. Y/N hummed through the second kiss, his lips curling and melting to his partners.

Y/N hum dreamily as he continued to complement his hard work. Breathlessly pulling away from their connected lips, hands moving down to Y/N's waist. Keeping the man close to brush his lips once more…then again and again, Y/N’s heart pounded with a giddy thrill. Beginning to walk through the house.

"Here we have a lovely kitchen…” Y/N leaned up to kissing him again. "Mmm…~” Tomura hums pleasantly, leaning the front of his body flush against the other man. Pulling away to halfway glance at the kitchen, then back at Y/N. Red eyes now focused on Y/N's kissed stained lips, his tongue licking his own in eager anticipation.

"What else do you have here in this lovely house of ours, brat?” Tomura questioned with a warm smile on his blood and dirt covered face. Y/N pulled him farther into the house, resting his back against the far wall as he opened a sliding door on the other end of the house. A few steps away from the couch. "Full bathroom with a tub, shower and a washer and dryer in the corner.” The man quickly uttered, allowing the other man time to look into the room. Impressed, Tomura looks around the space, his red gaze falling back to his boyfriend. Grinning as he saw him standing beside the door.

"We have our very own bathroom as well?” He asked in a soft grumble, Y/N nodded with a bright smile, pulling his boyfriend in for another kiss by his collar. This one slow and savory between the two men, Y/N pulls away with an audible pop. "Yes, we have our own bathroom…” The blush on Tomura’s face after the kiss looked angelic, given the white haired man was always angelic in Y/N’s opinion. But his soften expression, those wide eye. Y/N could replay that expression over and over again. With a shaky breath, the villain pressed his lips to Y/N's again, pushing him to the wall. A whine at the pressure of his body pinned to the wall slips past his lips in passion and hunger.

Y/N breath catch in his throat after the series kisses, leading his boyfriend toward the welcoming bed in the opposite corner, he continues. "The couch in the corner and the wall, I wanted it to be like a big nest. And right there is my record player, I connected it to speakers surrounding both levels and the outside."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Y/N watching his lover’s gaze gleam in fond admiration. "That’s it for the first floor, what do you think?” Waiting for him to both reply and join him on the comfortable bed. Tomura walks over, his excitement plain as day on his face. Jumping on the bed, laying face first with open arms and legs against the sheets and blankets Y/N laugh out, turning on the mattress. Tomura glances over at the other man from the sheets, grinning wide like a child.

"This house is so fucking cool, Y/N! I love how big the bed is and I love that there's music! This place is perfect!” He says before sitting up to kiss the man passionately and lovingly. Sighing dreamily kissing back, Y/N crawls over on top of his boyfriend, holding him close against himself. Feeling the infinite love for Tomura flow through his veins.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the rights of any of the characters I write about, all the rights go to their respective creators.

#male reader #shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki #soft shigaraki #bnha villains x male reader #shigaraki x male reader #tomura shigaraki x male reader #bnha shigaraki #shigaraki tomura x male reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki x you #soft shigaraki is my favorite shigaraki #Seraphimsbrainwritings

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mysticshadows13 · 3 days

Text

Ok, jwct nation. And @campbenji Day 2? Or something, I think I'm behind a day now, but oh well.

Favorite duo!

...is actually really really hard to choose! I was thinking going Yaz and Darius, but imma choose my other one.

Which is a duo that we don't see interact much in the show, but had so much potential.

Ben and Brooklyn.

We see them interact like....twice?

First time when Ben is like "this isn't ideal" and Brookline goes...it's trash, just say it!

And then Where Brooklyn is Ben's moral compass.

Which is hilarious, cuz Brooklyn snuck into a sealed part of the lab to get video. Was ready to throw down with Yaz when she thought Sammy took her phone. Was ready to fight Hap! Knows how to lockpick!

Then Ben goes "let's feed him to a dinosaur...or electrocute the dude!"

And her line is electrocution. Feed to a dinosaur, sure, fine. Arson Ben? Kidnapper Ben? All fine in her book.

I just think they should be allowed to do crime together.

#jwctcountdown #jwct #jwcc brooklynn #jwcc ben

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azrakabann · 1 day

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Mr Corrigan - Lorenzo Berkshire

a/n: finished it ends with us at 2:30 am last night and was inspired to make this so enjoy this randomly put together one shot :)

WARNING: CONTAINS A SMALL IT ENDS WITH US SPOILER THAT MAY OR MAY NOT RUIN A BIT OF IT. GO READ IT IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY. TRUST ME. IT'S WORTH IT. I WOULD PAY MONEY TO READ IT FOR THE FIRST TIME AGAIN. Bye :D

Edit: I started writing this months ago, but I just couldn't get it to a standard I liked. So finally, I have it to the point where I'm satisfied with it, and can present to you: Mr Corrigan <3

...

"and then he said 'in the future... if by some miracle you find yourself in the position to fall in love again... fall in love with me.' And I SCREAMED Enzo! I screamed! I woke up everyone in my dorm and read it to them and they screamed too!" you said, flopping back onto your pillow.

"Atlas Corrigan has well and truly stolen my heart! I'm in LOVE!" you said, sighing and laughing at Enzo's raised eyebrow.

"I hope you're sparing some of that love for me then darling. I'm not sure how I feel about sharing your heart with your Mr Corrigan. I'd rather have it all to myself, you know? I'm kinda selfish like that." He said, smiling down at you.

"When you write lines like that for me Enzo, I'll kick him out and you can be the full time resident." you said, laughing and hitting him with a pillow gently.

"challenge accepted y/n. challenge accepted." he said, grabbing a pillow and hitting you back. "And I mean to the pillow war, don't get your hopes up, I'm no genius when it comes to writing." he said, shielding him from the cascading blows of your pillow on his head.

...

You dropped your bag onto the floor of your room, pulling your notes from your bag and sorting through them.

Throughout the various notes about Grindylows you found five scraps of paper, each with a tiny note from Enzo that he'd passed you earlier.

your eyes roved over each word, taking them in once again and smiling.

"I promise to plant kisses like seeds on your body, so in time you can grow to love yourself as much as I do."

"I like shiny things but I'd marry you with paper rings"

"thanks for being mine darling"

"not once have I looked at you and not had to blink to check that you're real."

"I'll take any portion of your heart you'll give me."

you laughed at the last one a bit, remembering his reluctance to share your heart with Atlas. But hey, what could he do? It was Atlas who was fictional, not him. (dear readers... I'm sorry)

you moved to lie back on your bed, sliding the notes into the draw beside your bed. you looked at the books beside your bed, reading the titles over and over again.

You were no Juliet, but you had your love story with Enzo. He completed you. your other half.

you noticed something poking at your neck and sat up, looking at your pillow. A slightly crinkled note sat on it.

you checked it was to you, before unfolding it. A magnet fell out, small and rectangular. You turned it over quickly to read what it said. "Boston: Where Everything Is Better."

So he'd read it ends with us for you. That's it, you were sold, he was the one, you would marry him.

you smiled and decided to keep the magnet in your hand, waiting till you had finished the letter to put it somewhere. you unfolded his letter, and started to decipher his handwriting.

"dear y/n. I don't really know how to explain the effect you have on me. I don't even really know how to begin this letter to be honest. I'm no fictional character, and naturally I am not going to be incredible with words, so please bear with me while I try to get this onto paper. I might not be a certain Atlas Corrigan, Rhys Larsen or Edward Cullen (although he bears a striking resemblance to a certain Cedric Diggory), but I can at least try to get this onto paper.

People say "I would go to the ends of the earth for you. I would walk on fire for you. I would die for you. But I can't say that. I can't genuinely say that I would walk on fire to save you from something. Because, for starters, i wouldn't let you get into the position where you have to be saved. I want to be your protector, the focus of your mind, the only person you think about.

It's not about having you as mine, it's about making you sure that you know I belong to you. Ask me to jump, I'd say how high. Ask me to give up my friends, I would (reluctantly though, so please don't)"

You paused to sniffle at that. Wait. Hang on. Sniffle? Oh merlin, there were tears in your eyes. What on earth? Must be hayfever. Your eyes slid back to the lettter, which was still going somehow.

"Anyway, besides that y/n, I want to be the person who gets to memorise everything about you. The way your nose crinkles when you're confused, the look you get in your eyes when you're explaining your latest book to me, the un-natural ability you have to be able to guess what I'm thinking...

Other than when you're overthinking and you trick yourself into worrying that I don't love you anymore. In those instances when I have to remind you that I love you, I'll just pull out this letter for you to read. And if that's not enough of a reminder, then I'll hold you until the obsessive thoughts stop and you fall asleep in my arms, where you belong.

Because that's one of the simple things I love. Just sitting, holding you. We don't have to be talking, holding you is enough. I just need to know that I still have you. And honestly, you consume all my thoughts. I won't say every minute of every hour, because lets be honest, I would not pass a single exam if you were on my brain 24/7. Sorry darling.

I'm not going to ask you for another letter like this in return, because honestly, you didn't ask me to write this, and to be honest, I like that I'm the source of the love letters in this relationship.

So y/n, once you've read this, you can ignore it, you can sleep with it under your pillow (little obssessive but I can excuse most things you do - this does not include murder, but does extend to Arson, Organised Theft and Kidnapping and Fights), or you can just keep it and treasure it.

Do whatever you want with it. It's yours. I'm yours.

Your own personal Mr Corrigan."

The tears were freeflowing by this point, streaming down your cheeks. You flopped back onto your pillows, trying to act like the girls in movies when they lie back on their beds holding a photograph, book or diary. Unfortunately, you failed miserably with this attempt.

You promptly banged your head on the headboard and cursed. So much for movie girl.You re-read the letter, and fresh tears sprang into your eyes, trickling down your cheeks.

Enzo. He'd written this for you. Oh my merlin. All you wanted was to do something for him. But only one thing came to mind. Something he had mentioned in his letter. Big gestures could wait for later. All you needed to do right then was get to him. Find him.

You sprung up off your bed, tears still falling, and grabbed one of his hoodies from your bedpost. Pulling it over your head, you ran to the Slytherin boys dorm. You quickly knocked on the door and the door opened. It was Blaise. He quickly looked back into the dorm and yelled: "BOYS! OUT!"

They came quickly, Mattheo, Draco, Theodore and Blaise, filing out like a fire drill. It seemed almost practiced. Actually, knowing them, it probably was. You walked in tentatively, looking around the door.

You could see him, sat on his bed, fiddling around with a scarf you left in his dorm once. "And I, left my scarf there at your sister's house" (ALL TOO WELL REFERENCE I'M SORRY I KNOW ITS THE WRONG CONTEXT BUT MOOOOOVING ON)

He looked up and gave you a nervous smile, mouthing a quick 'hey.' That did it. You ran across the room to him, into his opening arms and he held you tight to him. His arms closed around you as you cried into his shoulder, the letter still held in your hand.

"Merlin y/n, if I'd known the letter would have made you like this I might not have written it. I hate seeing you sad." He said, smiling sadly at you. You half laughed at that, choking back a sob, pulling back to look into his eyes. "Happy tears" you said, looking into his eyes.

There was some confusion in them, but overall, just love. Overwhelming, brain shaking love. And what he did next rendered you unable to speak.

Leaning forward, he kissed away your tears, fingers dusting your cheeks. Once he was happy there were no tears left, he leaned back and mouthed to you, "I love you."

Unable to speak, you leaned forwards and pressed your lips to his, trying to put a lot of unsaid words into the kiss. His lips pushed back against yours, knowing what you were trying to say.

You pulled back after a while, trying to speak.

"Enzo- I-"

A finger touched to your lips, silencing you.

His eyes locked with yours.

"It's okay. I know."

You nodded, still slightly breathless, leaning forward and wrapping your arms around him, returning his hold. Your lips neared his ear and a few words escaped your lips.

"I guess I'm yours too, my Mr Corrigan."

I'm lazy but I have decided to dedicate this part to @lavenderorlilac for being easily my favourite reader and follower both on TikTok and over here. Thank you love ❤️

#it ends with us #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire x you #louis partridge #harry potter #slytherin boys headcanons #slytherin boys #slytherins #slytherin #slytherin boys fluff #lorenzo berkshire fluff

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luna-andra · 3 days

Text

The Shadows Return | Simon 'Ghost' Riley x OC Retired AU | Chapter 8: Compromise

Summary: Andra wants answers, and Ghost has to choose

Word Count: 6.5k

If this is the first time you're seeing this, Chapter 1 is here. You can find the rest on my masterlist!

Content: slow burn, eventual smut, 18+, fluff, mentions of mental health, mild violence

The clouds on the way home were overcast across the afternoon sky. Johnny left Andra with several things to think over, bringing her back to a familiar train of thought from five years ago.

He gave her the same look that stirred shame in her belly. She didn’t like being on a different level of rationality – or lack thereof – with the people once close to her.

It was declared by the officer that showed up there was no indication of foul play. The possibility of an incompetent and inconvenienced officer being sent to her call was in the forefront of her mind, and also the possibility of any traces of someone’s presence could have been washed away from the thunderstorm by the time they came out to investigate. The whole process of filing the report gave her no peace of mind, but she took the advice of setting up surveillance seriously.

A precautionary that she should have done ages ago.

The quiet, quaint life out on the farm had soothed her troubled worries all of these years, making her forget for a moment what it was like to live looking over her shoulder every moment. She wasn’t naïve, no, she knew how to take care of herself when the seldom case of harassment arose. Andra should have never gotten so comfortable the way she did.

Her foot pressed down heavily on the brake pedal as she waited at a stop light to rub the exhaustion from her eyes. She was just a few more turns from home, she reminded herself. The caffeine she had ingested all throughout the morning was threatening a big crash.

Andra drove slowly down Middleton Lane as she spotted the first right turn to the private dirt road of Ghost’s property. Then her truck came to a full stop. You know what-

Her hand turned the wheel right as her tires skid around the corner.

Andra didn’t know what she was doing, or what she would exactly say to him, but she needed to know what was going through his head.

Andra parked behind his truck and turned the key out of the ignition. She paused for a few seconds to take a breath and gather at least the first sentence that would come out of her mouth.

Her phone vibrated.

I’m in the garage.

Of course Ghost knew Andra had arrived, another sign that she definitely needed to do the same thing to her property. Cameras and motion sensors.

She shut the door behind her as she made her way to the garage off to the right of his house. One of the metal double doors was left cracked open, and she could hear the metal clink of a tool being put down.

The garage was Ghost’s own personal auto shop, with an incomplete classic-looking car taking up majority of the left. The wall was lined with tool boxes, yard tools, and almost a pallet’s worth of army green ammo cans. To the right, a rudimentary gym setup took up another portion of space, with a bench press, a high pull-up bar, seemingly crafted and welded together amateurly, and a rack of assorting dumbbells and plates to complete it all.

Ghost was hunched over the open hood of the car, one hand on the lip of the hood as he kept his attention on whatever he had been working on before Andra’s unannounced arrival.

“Is this your way of letting me know that you’re pushing me away again?” Andra sharply said to the backside of Ghost.

Ghost tossed a tool onto the toolbox on his left side and retrieved a rag, wiping grease from his stained hands. His muscles tensed in his back as he turned to Andra’s direction. “Today has been a really tense day. I wanted to give you some space to come down from last night.”

Andra clenched her jaw. “I don’t need space, I need answers. I feel like I’ve been kept in the dark about something I have no control over.”

“That’s because you don’t.”

She could feel her blood simmering already. Not how she wanted this to go. “I don’t because you never gave me the choice to take control.” Andra couldn’t recognize the person she was talking to. His stare was cold and dark. If his goal was to anger her into cutting her losses with him, it wasn’t going to work. “You didn’t tell me anything because we lost touch the first time, fine, I get it. But you went ahead and told Johnny? That’s what I can’t get passed.”

Ghost trudged out of the garage with Andra following behind him. “He and I had an eye on things. We had it under our thumbs.”

Andra tossed her hands up. “Had what exactly?” Her voice echoed all around them. “What the hell is going on with you?”

He turned back to her, stopping her in her tracks before bumping right into him. Ghost peered down to her, his eyes burning the same heat. “What do you want from me? You want me to take back what I did?”

Her fists clenched hard enough for her nails to dig into her palm. “No, I just want you to stop being such a hard ass and talk to me.” Her carotid artery strained against the muscles in her neck. “Tell me what you think is going on and we’ll deal with it together.”

He flinched as if her hand flew across his face.

“You keep acting like you’re looking for an excuse to push me away, for an excuse to leave.” Andra’s chest rose and fell with a heavy rhythm. “You act as if one morning I’ll wake up and you won’t be here, and you’ll just be a memory for me.”

His eyes squeezed shut as his own breath left him.

“You’ve thought about it, haven’t you? Leaving without another word, taking your shadows with you.” There was a shiver in her voice.

“I have.” Ghost finally answered. “I could leave in a moment’s notice. I’ve done it before.”

Andra didn’t doubt him. She had done it herself, she knew how easy it was to pack a couple of bags and leave. “What’s stopping you this time?”

Ghost opened his eyes to meet hers.

She scoffed and turned away from his silent response. The wind picked up and wisps of her hair flew around her face. She had to squint her eyes at the unbearable overcast sunlight. “I was able to forgive you for cutting me off the first time. I shook it off because there was no expectation for you to keep in contact after fixing my truck. Then you came back, and I thought you wanted me in your life, and maybe we even had something. Cool. Great, even.

“But when you brought up the transpiring events, the person driving up our street and telling me there have been people on my property?” She shook her head. “You think you’re handling this on your own but you’re not. I won’t let you. Either you let me know what’s going on, or you’ve lost my trust.”

His eyes were unreadable when she saw him once more.

Andra reached into her pocket and flipped her keys into her palm, the key ring sitting on her index finger as she clenched them tight. “I’ll see you around, Ghost. If you figure out what you want to do, you know where to find me.”

The screen door smacked the side of the house harder than it should. Andra wasn’t paying attention. Her face still felt hot with anger. Sammy darted outside for her chance to do what she does, leaving her alone in the house.

The air felt thick, charged with energy that wasn’t there when she woke up the morning before. Or maybe it was her mind messing with her. Either way, her house felt compromised.

The tears collected in her eyes out of nowhere, and she quickly wiped them away. This is stupid. She felt ridiculous for letting it get to her. For letting a shattered window re-surface the fear that drove her away to another country.

This was all going to blow over. The tracks in the woods were a random coincidence, the car meant nothing. And the rock flying into her window was just a freakish feat of nature. She’s witnessed some heavy storms in the countryside in her years of living here. It wouldn’t be the first time something has sustained damage on her property, and it was bound to happen again.

“Be kind to yourself.” Andra whispered to herself as she kicked her shoes off, remembering what she was taught in therapy and from self-help reading. However, being kind to herself was proving difficult with the lingering anger from talking to Ghost.

The nerve of him.

But also, the nerve of her. She felt the weight of her corrosive past. An affliction, threatening to dismantle the life she had built. It had to be irrational, she was no one. She wasn’t worth being tracked down, right? That’s the rhetoric she kept force feeding herself. They had succeeded in getting rid of her, she made sure of it. At this point, if anyone wanted to pursue in finishing the job, she would end up burning a hole in their dirty wallets.

And if Ghost was going to play the need-to-know card, two can play that game.

She stopped in her tracks as she walked into the kitchen, catching a glimpse of the black trash bag covering her window. It crinkled and swayed inward and outward with the passing wind. The ever-growing chasm in her chest was making itself comfortable, and she couldn’t stand it.

-----

Ghost knew Johnny would stop calling after the second time he reached his voicemail. The third call in a row told him that he better answer the phone. His heavy hand reached out to the nightstand for his phone, swiped his thumb across the screen and pressed it against his ear, eyes closed. “Yes, sir.”

“You broken, Simon?”

Price’s gravelly voice came through the speaker on his phone, and it was like a splash of cold water on him. It was a question he was familiar with Price asking, except he’s no longer checking for missing limbs or hemorrhaging blood loss. Ghost sat up on the edge of his mattress and rubbed the exhaustion from his eyes. “M’solid.”

“When’s the last time you got a full eight hours of sleep?” Price asked.

Ghost took a quick glance at the time on his phone before returning the receiver to his ear. “I was getting’ rest before you woke me up.” He was only asleep for two hours, and his pounding head reminded him that it had been a restless 72 hours.

Price doesn’t reach out very often. The captain – along with the other lads – will dedicate an amount of time out of the year to catch up with the former task force in person. It was an annual event of spending the holidays doing anything but celebrating Christmas and New Years. When he hears from Price before November, it’s because he’s been tipped off on Ghost’s concerning behavior.

“Soap tells me you’re acting barmy, you think you’re being followed, son?”

There it was.

Ghost didn’t respond for a few beats, his feet felt like lead against the cold wooden floor. “A couple of events transpired, would put you on edge, too.”

He could hear a deep sigh come from the other end of the line, and it had Ghost clench his jaw. “Get yourself to an appointment or a meeting, or I’ll bring the meeting to you.”

Price’s demand sent a wave of guilt and shame through Ghost. The memories of being pulled up off the living room floor and thrown into his tub flashed behind his heavy eyelids. Price, Johnny and Gaz showed up. Ghost reeked of alcohol and piss. They had him hauling bags of sand back and forth from his backyard to the range on his property for several hours, making him sweat and puke the remains of alcohol in his system.

“I’m still sober.” Ghost gritted his teeth. He made Ghost sound like an addict.

Price clipped his words, “See your doctor, and get out of bed for a sweat.”

Ghost opened his eyes to the void of his darkened room and sighed. “I’ll set up an appointment today.”

“Good lad.” Beep-beep-beep went the line as Price disconnected the call.

Sleep had eluded Ghost once more. He sat there at the edge of his bed and rolled his neck, failing to relax the knotted muscles at the base of his neck. His eyes burned, and his headache pressed down on every surface of his skull. He felt an irritation for Price waking him up, but rationality told him it wasn’t his fault.

Since sleep was out of the question, Ghost stood up and peered out the bedroom window. The sun wasn’t due to come up for another couple of hours, but he insisted to listen to Price’s advice. Get a workout in, then when the office opened, call doc to get that appointment.

His feet were heavy as he shuffled to the bathroom. Ghost always looked down to the basin of the sink before turning on the lights, avoiding the reflection staring back at him. He watched as his hands gripped the edge of the counter. Scars littered his knuckles, the skin over bone splitting open too many times for him to count.

It was when he was sick of looking at the reminders of his violence when he slipped and the person he hated stared back with cold, dead eyes.

You’ve tried killing me so many times, but fail every single time. You need me. You need the mask. You need it to hide so there’s never a chance to hurt again. You don’t deserve her. You try and pretend to be someone worthy of a teaspoon of affection, but you’re not what she needs. You’re filthy. You’re-

The glass shattered against his fist as he struck as quick as an asp. He hissed between clenched teeth, cursing as the reached for a towel and covered his bleeding knuckles.

If one thing was for certain, his reflection was right.

He didn’t deserve her.

-----

Andra flipped closed the back end of the book and placed it on her blanket covered lap to rub her tired eyes. Every night she would read The Operators when it was evident she wouldn’t be getting peaceful rest, or when something had her jolting awake. She had no clue how many hours she had slept in the past couple of days; definitely not enough to keep her from loading up on caffeine and making her debate breaking her years of being nicotine-free.

She could hear the roosting of her birds out in the coop. Andra leaned her head back against the headboard and sighed. There wouldn’t be time to try and fall asleep. Her day had to start.

After the morning chores, Andra headed inside for another cup of coffee. She stared out of her newly replaced window, out into the distance. It was hard not to; it was as if something – or someone – was going to come storming out from the brush and trees. All remained quiescent in those groves, as logic would have it.

The rattling sound of her plastic phone case vibrating against the countertop broke her focus. She swiped her finger across the screen and pressed the speaker button. “What’s up, Johnny?”

“I need to ask a favor.”

His voice was hushed and the words were muddled like he had the phone pressed against his mouth, and she could hear the workings of the auto shop in the background.

“I need you to go check on Ghost for me, he called out of work this morning.”

Andra felt her chest and throat tighten all at the same time. Johnny wasn’t aware of the fallout between her and Ghost from the sound of it. Or if he did, he must be extremely concerned for Ghost’s silence. I figured he would be used to it by now… she thought bitterly. “You need me to go immediately?”

“Take yer time, a mate of ours reached him this mornin’. Just pop over there when you get a chance. Gotta go, text me.”

The line went dead before Andra could say bye. She released a heavy sigh after taking her first sip, her fingers tapped against the countertop as apprehension churned in her gut.

Maybe Ghost took their last conversation as motivation for him to actually leave.

Tears pricked in the corner of her eyes, and she rubbed them away with her thumb and index finger, pushing her fingers together to pinch the bridge of her nose. She didn’t want their relationship – friendship – whatever they had, to end on that note. Fuck, I messed up.

She took a deep breath to regain composure. You don’t know if he’s gone. Andra decided she would go by after her run to the post office to pick up her package. With a quick rinse of her empty coffee mug, she headed to the front door to collect her keys and purse.

The sound of gravel crunching and a vehicle engine made her pause in her tracks. Her heart raced, she could feel her adrenaline dump. Her shaky hand moved aside the curtain to look out the window beside the door, and the sight of Ghost’s truck had her releasing a heavy breath.

It took everything in her not to throw the door open and run to him. She took another grounding breath and unlocked the door, opening it to Ghost preparing to knock.

Andra swore her heart was going to burst. The look in his eyes mirrored the same surprise she displayed. The discernible presence of a bandage wrapped around Ghost’s hand caught her attention in the corner of her eye.

He noticed where her eyes fell to, and shoved it in the pocket of his jacket. “You got a minute to speak?”

His voice sounded like sandpaper. He looked just as sleep deprived as she felt. Andra couldn’t say anything, so she just nodded. She closed the door behind her and opted to sit on the wooden bench, leaving a space for Ghost to sit beside her. He never did, instead he decided to lean against the railing, his ankle crossed over the other.

Seconds passed before anything was said. “I’m not good with words, you’ll have to bear with me.”

Andra folded her legs beneath her and clasped her hands together. Her eyes remained on him as she waited to hear him out.

His head tilted down. “I gave a lot of thought to what you said, about losing your trust.” He rolled his neck, rolling the nerves and giving him a chance to think. “And I realized, taking a bullet is far less painful than that.”

Andra could see his adam’s apple bob in his throat underneath the fabric of his mask as he tilted his head back with closed eyes. She felt her throat tightening, and had to swallow to relieve the ache.

“So, I’ve come to terms with if I want to mend what I had with you, I’m going to have to find a way to tell you what you need to know.” Ghost’s eyes found hers, searching for a response.

She gave him a subtle nod, letting the words sink in. “How are you going to do that?”

Ghost uncrossed his ankles and took the two steps to sit beside her. It was a struggling few seconds for him to begin speaking. “Did you ever pick that book back up?”

Andra was confused by the approach he was taking, but went with it. “Yeah, I finished it actually.”

"Did the author talk about some of his assignments?" Ghost asked patiently.

She recalled what the author was able to talk about and reveal. "Not specifics, but he went in detail with Selection, and then the training thereafter and some events that happened in the 80s in Northern Ireland."

He nodded as he listened. "What did the training entail?"

"Physical training, a lot of sleep deprivation, weapons and vehicle tactics, photography, interrogation..." Andra's words drifted as she continued her recollection. She wouldn't say this out loud, but it was a dry read.

Ghost cut in at the mention of the last topic. "Interrogation, okay." His shoulders rose and fell as he let out a deep breath, and his hands flexed over and over. "I've been on both ends of being interrogated. Not just in training, but out on the field." His red-rimmed eyes aged several decades, and her chest grew heavy. "And there were times the bars and stars – officers that outranked me and my team – had ordered us to let go of the person we had just roughed up.

"They were dangerous people, Andra, do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

Andra was piecing together why Ghost had given her that book to read. It was more than just what was on the surface. The selection process, the training, the assignments, the images in the book illustrating the teams with black lines redacting their eyes. It occurred to her then when she was reading it all, Ghost was another one of the SAS operatives that had an alias, he had paperwork with his name on it that contained redacted information on what he and his team had accomplished, but now discussing it all solidified it for her.

Not only him, but Johnny as well, and Johnny had brought up a few other names. People that were also special forces.

It was sobering. She never took the time to sit with all of this information and come to terms that these men had enemies that went deeper than just being from differing nations. Enemies that may or may not still be alive out there, preying on the downfall of the men she had come to know.

“Has anyone ever found you or Johnny?” Andra asked with a tremble in her throat.

“No.” He answered definitively. “And I would like to keep it that way.”

Andra nodded, as she fully agreed with him.

Ghost leaned back against the bench. “I truly never intended to alarm you and bring you to endless conclusions. I wish I could take it back, my foolishness, everything.”

“You can’t help that, though.” Andra defended. “It was a really messed up chain of events.”

There was a pregnant pause. “I have moments like these when there are too many coincidences happening at once. I’ve been working on how I handle it.”

Andra turned to him. “Do you… talk to someone about it?” She felt hesitant to ask.

Ghost’s eyes slid back to her. “Does that bother you?”

She shook her head swiftly. “No, oh Gods, no I didn’t mean it that way.” Her hands covered her face for a moment. “That was wrong of me to ask.”

Ghost reached for one of her hands. “You have every right to know, doll.” The calloused pad of his thumb brushed the top of her hand. She could feel a tremor in his touch.

It would have warmed her heart had it not been for the churning contrite souring her stomach. He had every right to know, too, but how would she even begin to tell him?

His injured hand was holding hers. She took this opportunity to distract herself from the guilt eating at her. “What happened to your hand?”

“Ridiculous accident with some glass.” He answered too quickly. Andra could feel him wanting to recoil, but he continued to let her hold his hand. Her peripheral vision gave her a peak of Ghost studying her face. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look exhausted.”

Andra let go of his hand and rubbed her eyes. “I really haven’t been sleeping. Every little noise wakes me up, and I lay there for hours.”

Ghost’s eyes turned serious. “What can I do to remedy that?” Andra started to shake her head. “No, I’m responsible for this. Name it, I’ll do what I can.”

“I was actually on my way to go pick up a security system I ordered from the post office.” Andra raised her hand with her set of keys jingling.

Ghost stood from the bench, Andra followed in suit. “That I can do.”

Her smile returned. If it was one thing Andra was certain about Ghost, acts of service was how he communicated his apologies. It was easier to demonstrate with his hands than words.

After picking up the hefty box of camera and motion sensor equipment, Andra worked around the farm after her and Ghost discussed where the best places to set up the cameras would be. He got it done in less than a few hours, giving them time to pick up food together.

As they traveled, she remembered Johnny was waiting for an update from her.

Ghost is fine, we’re picking up food.

“So, you read the book in the past three days?” Ghost asked to start up chatter. Look who’s talking more now.

She hummed. “I read when I can’t sleep, and found it sitting there on the table before I locked up for bed.” Andra glanced at him. “What do you do when you can’t sleep?” Her phone vibrated with a response.

Thank you.

Ghost shrugged. “I lay there hoping I fall asleep.”

“I would get so bored.” Andra confessed, tapping her hands on her thighs. “You don’t even scroll through Netflix or something to try and turn your brain off?”

“I don’t have Netflix.” He responded.

Andra shook her head and blinked. “Remind me to give you my login.”

“I don’t watch TV or movies.”

Now she was looking at him like he was crazy. “You’re lying. You’re a liar.”

He rolled his eyes. “I do watch movies, but they’re all old war movies or westerns on DVD.”

Andra narrowed her eyes. “What are you, fifty?”

Ghost chortled. “I have a while before I hit fifty, thank you for that.”

“How long is a while?” Andra smirked. “Five years or six months?” His mouth opened, but she kept going. “Wait, I bet you have M.A.S.H. all on DVD, don’t you?”

“There’s nothing wrong with M.A.S.H.” Ghost defended.

“Yeah, when you’re as old as my dad and watching it on your days off as you doze on the living room couch at eleven in the morning.”

“You’re pushing your luck, doll.” Ghost warned with a grin in his voice. “Let me put it this way, I joined the Royal Air Force after the events of 9/11.”

Andra’s face went slack and her eyes were as wide as saucers. She turned to the passenger window with a hand pretending to scratch the side of her head and wondered if he would be weirded out if she told him she was in grade school during 9/11.

Her silence was loud in the cabin. “We’re not that far apart in age if you know M.A.S.H.” Ghost resumed.

Andra raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you saying I look old?”

“No.” His accent thickened as his voice dropped. “I didn’t say that.”

She was having too much fun busting his chops. “We have a tad bit of an age gap,” she demonstrated with her thumb and index finger with a small gap, “I’m a ninety’s baby.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Three years is a tad of an age gap, not a whole decade.”

Andra rolled her eyes. “Is this what I have to look forward to in my thirties?” She laughed at the flash of astonishment as he panned a look at her. “I’m kidding! Well, kind of, but I’ll be thirty next summer.”

Ghost smoothed his hand over his covered mouth. “You’re killing me, woman.”

“Best stay on top of those heart meds then – ooh!” Andra shot forward and was caught by her seatbelt from Ghost slamming the breaks harder than normal. “You’re gonna cause an accident, sir.”

After a few beats of silence, Ghost changed the subject. “I hope the camera system will give you some peace of mind.”

“I’m sure it will.” She nodded with a hopeful smile.

Ghost ran inside the chip shop they ordered from while Andra sat in the truck to keep it running. Her head tilted back onto the head rest as she stared up at the roof of the truck. The lack of sleep was catching up to her, and now that there was less of a problem with surveillance around the farm, she felt the muscles in her shoulders relaxing.

The sudden sound of the driver door opening had her jerking back awake. She attempted to cover up the fact that she had dozed off in his truck with a little stretch of her legs.

Ghost handed her the bag of food without noticing her brief second of sleep and drove back to her house.

-----

“I get why you go to this place.” Andra spoke in between eating in the living room with him. “It’s not bad.”

“It’s also because Johnny has been getting us discounts from his little girlfriend.” Ghost wiped his mouth with a crumpled napkin.

Andra looked over the app on her phone that connected her to all of the cameras on her property. The feed looked really good, giving her confidence that she could point out important details if she ever had to. She switched to the camera that aimed at the dirt driveway with both trucks sitting outside. Her thumb and index finger spread across the screen to utilize the zoom feature; she was able to read off the license plate numbers from each truck.

“Thank you again for setting up the cameras.” Andra locked her phone and placed it down on the coffee table.

Ghost covered the lower half of his face back up with the balaclava as he finished his own meal. “Thank you for letting me.”

Her heart fluttered at the sudden drop in his voice. His eyes were set on her when she turned to look at him. Despite not being able to see his expression, she could feel a softness in his brown eyes.

“Let me get these out of the way.” Ghost insisted as he began to collect the takeout containers. Andra sucked down the last of her drink in her Styrofoam cup and tossed it into the bag Ghost was using.

Andra slipped a hand in the back pocket of her jeans. “You staying for a little while?”

“I can.”

She felt some relief for having to spend less time by herself for the evening.

While Ghost did his thing, Andra browsed her bookshelf in search of a new read.

“Anything interesting?” Ghost asked as he returned.

Andra chose Dune from the shelf. “Maybe.” She returned to her designated reading lounge chair and curled her legs up. “How far did you get with The Outsiders?”

Ghost scratched the back of his head. “Maybe the first fifty pages.” Then, he tilted his head. “How did you know I had it?”

Andra smirked. “It was gone the following morning after you left.”

Did she have him flustered? The indecisive glance to the couch and back to the front door then back to the kitchen was amusing enough to have her grinning.

“I have it in the truck, actually. Be right back.” Ghost made his way outside, letting in a kissing, chilly breeze.

It must have been the book she chose, or the way she receded back into the cushions, but she felt the wave of sleepiness return back. Or maybe it was Ghost’s presence, knowing he was only a few feet away on the couch with Sammy next to him. He emitted an aura that Andra could only classify as comfort. Safety.

She knew he was safe to fall asleep around, she knew he would keep her safe.

Andra flinched out of the sleep she was slipping into and let out a disappointed sigh. Her book was still in her hand, but the pages were damp from the warmth of her fingers holding them in place. She closed the book, not worried about where she left off because she wasn’t paying attention anyway and softened her movements as she looked to her right.

Ghost’s head lulled to one side from the upright position he fell asleep in, his arms crossed over his chest and his own book sitting on the table with Sammy resting in her own bed by the window. The heavy breath he suck in and released told her he was deeper in that sleep than she was.

How is he sleeping with the mask on? Andra wondered.

With light movement, Andra rose from her chair and padded quietly to the hallway closet to retrieve a blanket. He looked as tired as she felt halfway through the day, and she wasn’t about to wake him up and send him home. She unraveled the blanket and moved to lay it over Ghost just above his arms and below his collarbone.

But his awareness was more keen than Andra had anticipated. Ghost reached out, throwing the blanket off and swiped her wrists single-handed. The room went spinning, and she let out a small yelp as her back met the bottom cushions of the couch, his grasp securing her wrists above her head.

Ghost’s eyes were wild with alert, then widened as he realized who he just wrestled down. It startled her at first, but out of nervousness a chortle escaped. Then a chuckle, and confusion wrinkled Ghost’s eyebrows.

She probably looked insane to him. She was supposed to be frightened, but all she was was dizzy. And too aware of how his body hovered over her. The grip on her wrists eased up but remained there. Her giggles dissipated, along with whatever she was about to say. She was too absorbed by Ghost’s eyes darting all over her face, and she wasn’t too sure, but she was almost certain he kept looking to her mouth.

Before Andra could register what she was doing, she pressed her lips against the teeth of the skull pattern on his mask, hitting her mark as she felt his lips beneath. Ghost pulled away like she had put his hand in an open flame, his eyes widened. Oh shit, what have I done –

His empty hand shoved up the fabric of his balaclava and he smashed his mouth against hers. Heat blazed through her face, molten liquid flooding her core as she took in every sensation overwhelming her. The fierce hunger of his kiss. The friction of their bodies pressed against each other. The solid grip Ghost had on her wrists.

She couldn’t get close enough to him. Her leg attempted to hook around his waist, but only succeeded in wrapping around a thigh that nestled its way between her legs.

He couldn’t pull himself away, and instead fed the part telling him to nudge his knee where she wanted it. Ghost freed her hands to grip the thigh pulling him in, giving her free reign to cradle his stubbled jaw. His fingertips worked divots into the fabric of her jeans, earning a small sound from her tightening throat.

Andra hoped there would be marks later left where he was squeezing.

Her tongue slipped out between her lips and playfully swiped across his mouth. Oh fuck, the sound that just came from him… Andra had never heard arousal so delicious before.

All of Ghost was crashing through her like a freight train. His taste, his heat, his sounds. Her head felt like it’s been shoved underwater, and she has no intentions surfacing for air. Not when drowning in all of him felt this good.

Ghost reciprocated her invitation and found his tongue pushing through the slit of her lips. She felt her own arousal winding tightly in her warmth. Anything more was likely going to set her off. There’s no way I’m coming just from this, she cursed herself.

Ghost pulled away, hit hot breath fanning over her face. He moved his free hand to his mask, but it remained there. One second, two seconds. His mouth slackened into a frown, lips parted with labored breathing. The trance had been broken between the two. He retreated from where he had Andra pressed into the couch, his hands ran down his face and stayed there as he battled with himself.

Andra adjusted her shirt as she sat up and gave him a nudge of space. “Hey,” she softly said as she brought his hands down, cradling them in her own. “You don’t need to.”

“I want to.” He rasped, breathless from their kiss. “I don’t know why, but I can’t.”

“It’s okay.” She took his hand away from his face and stroked his knuckles with her thumb.

Ghost blinked a few times like he was waking up from a dream. “I shoved my tongue in your mouth.” He stated, a little too forward. His words had heat rushing to her face. “The least I can do I show you who is beneath this.” He gestured to the mask covering half of his face, a bitterness in his words directed to his disguise.

Andra slowly raised her hands to the bottom half of his revealed face. He flinched away from the contact, but settled as she let her thumbs brush against the stubble on his jaw. She made no subtle movements; just exploring the craters and slits across his skin.

Ghost watched her silently, attentively, his eyes flickering back and forth. She can feel the intensity, a man questioning the intentions of the woman touching him, holding the privacy and secrecy he clings to. He sucked in a breath as she took hold of the balaclava and didn’t exhale until Andra had pulled it back down over his face.

“If you’re not ready, then you’re not ready.” She affirmed.

His bandaged hand brushed Andra’s disheveled hair behind her ear. Ghost leaned in and pressed his covered mouth against her forehead. Andra gave him a meek grin as he pulled away.

Andra felt this moment building up to a goodbye, but she took his hand again. “You can stay here for the night. I don’t want you driving back even if it’s just down the street.”

He reached down on the floor and picked up the blanket. “If that’s alright with you, I’ll take up the couch-”

“Sleep on a bed, for gods’ sake.” Andra nodded her head to the stairs. “I have an extra room upstairs.”

Thankfully, Ghost didn’t argue. Heavy feet dragged themselves up the stairs, Sammy following them both. They took pause as both turned to each other from across the hall. There was so much she wanted to say, but the brief, drowsy goodnight that was exchanged had them retreating into their respective rooms. Andra leaned against the closed door, clouds in her head and lips swollen with the phantom sensation of their catalyst.

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