#I mean y'all can go follow her if ya want

[saiidahyunie]

ballroom extravaganza

minatozaki sana x f!reader || cont. of fake and true ! pt.3 here

synopsis: you scored the date with the girl from the bar, things are shaping up for the better (maybe/maybe not), and your cousin mina is starting to raise some suspicions.  

warnings: fluff ; smut!! ; sana giving/recieving ; reader recieving/giving ; fucking in the car/office/bedroom (freaky deaky) :D ; sana being needy ; sana praising ; cursing ; anything else i didn't let y'all know ; might be proofread

a/n: dang y'all really like sana don't ya? (bias wrecking me ill never recover) hope you guys enjoy this second part as much as the first one!

you’re basically jumping out of your own skin when you hear the knock on your door, and twirl around to see the bedside clock. 

8:29 

a minute early. you’d be impressed to keep the hefty lunch in your stomach to not vomit it out. 

“coming!” you cry out, before taking a second to fuss with your current appearance. you played it simple, the flashiest part of the red dress that shuhua loaned you. like the black one, it’s slim-fitting and short, the neckline cutting above the swell of your breasts. your lips are a stained deep red, just to match. tzuyu always said to you that the color was striking for you to pull off. 

after straightening the dress, you step out of your room and walk towards the entryway of the door, taking a second to toe on your black pumps. and then, with a steady exhale, you open the door. 

sana stands on the other side of it, one hand in her pocket of your black slacks and the other carrying a bouquet of roses that she promptly shoves at your chest. you take them, cradling to your body, and look up to find her already gazing at you, eyes raking from the top of your head and down. again and again. 

“hey.” 

“hi.” you smile at her. “these are really beautiful, thank you.”

sana jerks her head in acknowledgement, and you can see the faintest flush of pink spreading to the tips of her ears. you bite your lip as you set the flowers down, staving off the rare urge to giggle. 

she’s still standing by the door, holding her arm out. “so are you ready to go?” 

you take it, curling a hand around her bicep, letting her lead you out. “please.”

—

“alright,” sana says, laying her menu flat on the table, staring at you with grave seriousness. “speak.” 

“huh?” you look away from the giant, crystal chandelier hanging above you two. the restaurant she’d take you to was only slightly less fancier than the one at the four seasons hotel. 

slightly. 

“i can tell you want to say something.” 

you smile nervously. “yeah, about your driving, maybe. i thought we were gonna—” 

“y/n.” she says firmly; it has the same affect as dumping a bucket of ice water over your head. “no bullshit. you might as well say what you wanna say.” 

“fine.” and this is easy to sink into, your mode of no-nonsense: the compartmentalization of what stresses you. “why did you give me the money?” 

“because i wanted to.” 

“i know, but why? did you feel bad for me?”

“a little.” 

you grit your teeth. “did you pity me?” 

“no.” 

“then what?” 

“i’ve been in your position before. kind of.” 

“what do you mean.” 

“struggling college student, a shitty job, caming from harebrained ways to get money. everyone who’s gone on the path to grad school, doesn’t matter if it’s med, law, blah blah blah whatever, knows how fucking hard it is to survive.” 

your cheeks flush from sana’s words, picking at the white table cloth. “so you empathized with me?” 

“basically.” sana says, sitting back in her chair, smiling at you. your eyes follow along the lazy draw of it. “i didn’t expect you to be so difficult about it.” 

“it’s not like it’s common to give strangers hundreds of dollars within an hour of meeting them. forgive me for being concerned.”

“do you still want to give the money back to me?” sana asks. 

“yes.” 

“okay. then let’s change the subject.” diverting to the basic cookie cutter icebreaker in existence. “what are you majoring in?” 

“sana—”

she reaches across the table and grabs your hand, squeezing it slightly. dazzling brown eyes swallow up your field of vision as she leans into you. “what are you majoring in?”

you bite your tongue. you don’t want to relent into sana’s charms; mina would have your head if she knew that sana was running away with it. but she’s making it so so easy, smiling when you answer, “i’m finishing up my bachelor’s in child education. aiming to get my masters in child’s psychology.”

“you like kids?” 

“yeah,” you reply, visibly softening to sana. “last summer i did my internship at a local kindergarten and i love it. kids are…easy in a way that people aren’t.” 

“what do you mean?”

“they don’t expect anything from you. not anything beyond food or water or playtime. you know, nothing super sophisticated or adult. and they’re easy to talk to. they don’t care what you say to them or if you don’t talk much in general. they’re not judgy and it’s nice.” you hit that right out of the ballpark, and sana stares with lips parted as the facts are laid out for you. 

“i’ve never thought about them that way,” she says, her hand shifting atop your own. her thumb skims across your knuckles. “it sounds nice.” 

your heart thrums like a hummingbird against the walls of your chest. every languid caress pulls a shiver from you. “you don’t like kids?” 

“i don’t dislike them. i’m neutral, i guess. i know i’d like to have my own.” sana replies. 

“do you have any siblings?” 

“nope. i’m an only child.”

“i would’ve never guessed,” you say dryly. 

“ha! has anyone told you you’re funny?” sana inquires, and you’re stifling a laugh while she’s smiling at you, gaze fond. “what about you?” 

“well, i’m an only child.” you reply. normally you’d leave it at this. you don’t really like the notion of getting into the nitty-gritty of your past, but sana’s presence robs any reticence from you. “my parents passed when i was younger so i was raised by my aunt and her cousin.” 

“oh.” sana slips her fingers into the spaces of your own and squeezes gently again. “i’m so sorry.” 

“it’s okay,” you say, smiling awkwardly. “it happened when i was little. i’m kind of accustomed to it now.” 

“can i ask you a question?” 

“a personal one?”

the corner of sana’s mouth quirks. you want to trace it with your fingers.

“if you were in that desperate of a situation, why didn’t you ask her for help?” 

“i can’t afford to take any money from my aunt or cousin. she can’t afford it.” 

“did you try asking?” 

“i’m not saying she would’ve said no. but if she tried, i wouldn’t have accepted it.” 

“sounds startlingly familiar.” 

you pull your hand from hers with a smile and an eye roll before picking up the menu in front of the table, raising it up high enough to cover sana’s face. 

“can we order something now?”

—

when you get back in the car, you’re warm, languid with a stomach full of risotto and red wine. sana’s hand rests on the gear shift between you, the other one on her wheel. you like watching the motion of them as she drive, like the curls of sana’s knuckles and the rasp her palm makes against the wheel when she turns it. you wish to feel the warmth of it against your leg. 

well, in a city like new york, it’s nothing more than unpleasant. 

“you know i wasn’t kidding when i told you that you’re a horrible driver.” 

“do you own a car, y/n?” 

 “i usually take the subway.” 

“okay. pro-tip if you ever do drive in these streets, better to be offensive than dead. or stuck in traffic for two hours. which, believe it or not, is fucking worse.” 

but despite sana’s words, she seems to listen to you. the drive stretches longer, and you lean into the plush leather seats as you stare out the window, dreading the sight of every familiar building, the street signs that you know lead to your apartment. for a moment, you debate asking to get ice cream, or go to the park, a movie theater–-anything and everything to extend this. you don’t want to leave the pleasant warmth of her car. 

“y/n?” 

you look over to see her smile. “i thought you were asleep.” 

“i’m not tired.”

she takes her hand off the gear shift, thumbs a lock of your hair without breaking your gaze. unwavering. 

“neither am i.” 

when she pulls into your squat, little apartment complex, you’re gripping the edge of your seat, nails squeaking against the buttery leather. she smoothly pulls into an empty space, parking backwards—what a show off—-before turning to you. with as huddled into the seat as you were, her hand is behind the headers, arm bracketing you, you feel consumed. surrounded by her scent, in her car, the engine humming beneath them, with her so close. you can’t breathe without inhaling her.

sana’s noticed it too. her eyes have gone dark, swallowed by her pupils. 

“i had fun,” she says. 

“me too.” 

her mouth twitches. “you gonna try giving me the money back now?” 

you jolt at the reminder, bending to snatch you purse, but sana’s hand flies from her headrest to your hand, hot over your knee.

“i was kidding. i don’t want it back. i don’t need it.”

“sana—” 

“y/n.” she interrupts firmly. “i don’t need it. and in my opinion, i think you can do a hell of a lot more.” 

your defenses waiver before they crumble completely, and you feel your chin wobble. to your horror. “you’re too nice to me.” 

she grabs it, pressing her thumb into the plush of your bottom lip. your stomach clenches as sana’s eyes flicker down, anticipation making your headlight. 

“i don’t think i’m nice enough,” she whispers, but it barely registers. you’re already reaching for her, mouth open to beg; hand on her wrist, and she meets you half-way, swallowing your muted please. 

sana’s kiss is desperate, intense like the rest of her. one hand buried in your hair while the other presses against your knee, a searing, overbearing heat that sinks into your insides, coiling tingly in the pit of your gut. despite your furious protestations to tzuyu, you haven’t felt this in a while, the wet-warmth of another mouth against your own, the life of someone else’s tongue, opening you up further. 

you press closer, so frantic you almost climb over the armrest, but sana pushes you back down to your seat. she breaks away from your mouth to kiss down the line of your throat, flicking her tongue out to taste your overheated skin, smiling when you sigh. your hips jerk beneath her hold when she sucks at your pulse point. 

she grins, teeth nipping at your jawline. “you like that, sweetie?” 

there’s a shock-wire running from the heat of her mouth to her clit. sana’s barely touched you and you’re already keyed-up, on the cusp of euphoria. if you touched yourself now, you’d be so far gone, but you’re not sure she’d let you.

sana returns to kissing your throat, pausing to suckle at it with teeth and tongue, laving it against your skin in soft, wet strokes. she uses the hand in your hair to tilt your neck towards her, directing you like a puppet on strings. her other hand roves up and down your exposed thigh in gentle motions, more exploratory than anything, as if she can’t keep from touching you. and the thought sends a jolt of electricity to pass through you, sparking between your legs. it makes your hips can’t, makes the desperate need for friction a burying, voracious thing, primed to consume you. 

when she kisses the swell of your bottom lip, it comes out of you in a breathless pant, nails biting the seat. “p-please touch me.” 

“where?” sana asks, thumbing the hem of your dress, close enough to be a physical pain. “where, baby? here?”

“n-no.” 

“then where, y/n?” your eyes are black, eager with predatory intent, and you hate how much you love it; the consuming weight of her attention, like she wants to eat you whole. 

without much coronation, you take sana’s hand and shove it between your thighs, spreading them wide. you’re initially afraid that she’ll keep teasing you, that she’s lost in the power trip, but she surprises you when she groans and kisses you roughly, fingers tracing up your slit. 

“so fucking wet you are,” sana raps when she breaks away, almost crazed. she dips her hand beneath the waistband of your panties, the sensation of her fingers against your sensitive skin sending your eyes rolling. your hips buck, demanding delicious friction, and she surges in, laughing into your mouth. 

“you can cum just like this, can’t you?” she asks, voice rumbling against your cheek. her thumb slides up and down the seam of your cunt, the heel of her palm adding the barest pressure to your clit, but it’s good. the mere taste of it almost enough to send you over the edge, just for the sweet torture. 

her knuckles pull against the gusset of your panties as two of her fingers center over your clit. her pace at first is light, slow, exploratory like the way it’d been on your leg. her eyes on your face are focused. she wants to know what’ll take you to the edge, and you know it isn’t this. so you grab sana’s wrist and raise your hips to force pressure. 

“faster,” you pant, liquid gaze cutting to her. “h-harder. i like it–” 

she steals the words from you, kissing again with a mouth full of bite. the motions of sana’s fingers quicken, slide down to the tease of your e trance while you grind frantically into her palm. you’re so wet you easily accept the glide of her first finger, and when she pushes in the second, the stretch is sweet, a welcome thing. you thrust onto them, wishing vainly that she’d toss you into the backseat and fuck you with something more.

the thought makes you clench around her, and she curses loudly, burying her face into your sweaty neck. 

“are you always this depsrate when you’re getting fucked?” sana hisses, thrusting her fingers into you harder, without relent. “you always feel this good?” 

you choke out a sob, feeling the familiar swoop in your belly, the swelling tide that welcomed euphoria. as you clutch her wrist, chasing it, sana rests her head atop your shoulder, her voice going soft, reverent. 

“you’re so good, y/n,” she says in a frantic stream, mad with want. “so good. so, so fucking good. my perfect girl.” 

you keen when it washes over you, that white-hot heat that robs you of sense. you shudder beneath sana’s grip, clutching her wrist as you ride it out. she helps you come down from it, kissing you languidly and keeping her pace inside you slow. when you can breathe again, she pulls them out of you. you flush hotly when she sticks her fingers in her mouth, but the embarrassment doesn’t linger long. you surge toward her, hands flying towards the button of her pants. meets her in another frantic kiss.

“i wanna make you feel good now,” you whisper, palming her. “i want—”

sana uses her hand in your hair to bind you up against her and kisses you again, long and full enough to make the words melt from your tongue. you’re hazy when she pulls away, pliant. 

“i think,” she says. “that there’s always next time.” 

“next time?”

“next time,” sana repeats, rubbing your cheek with her thumb. “it’s late anyway. you should go to bed.” 

“oh,” you say blankly. “okay.”

sana kisses you again, twice on your nose, before leaning over to open your door. you stumble out of her car, binding your purse tight against your chest. you wave at her from the entrance of her building before you step inside, and see the shadow of sana’s hand as she waves back, driving off. when she turns onto the street, you rush inside, a hot, sharp balloon swelling in your chest. 

your hands shake when you slot the key into your door and turn the knob, switching on the lights. you kick your shoes off and toss the purse onto the couch, moving on muscle memory. you can’t think beyond the warm, floaty haze that’s clouded your mind, and when you shut the door behind you, you laugh. 

over and over. carelessly. all the while remembering the firm grip of sana’s hand and the scent of her, clogging your nose even now, a smell you want to bottle up and keep. 

next time, you think, giddy, nearly dancing in the small space. she said there’d be a next time. 

just then, you hear the high trill of your phone and dart to the couch, yanking open your purse to fish it out. you flush a pink when you notice the notification next to sana’s name– a text that reads, goodnight- and as you go to type your response, another notification pops up. one from venmo. 

a cold spike of adrenaline shoots through you when the app opens, fingers trembling. you almost drop your phone entirely at the number attached: $1,000 dollars. 

“for school,” it reads. 

your breath quickens. the hot balloon in your chest expands and expands until it pops, a physical pain against your ribcage.

i thought— your eyes burn. the realization sinks into your like molasses. i thought she—

the night you met sana, she expressed concern when she learned why you were there. she’d condemned jihyo and implied that you deserved something more, something better. she’d left you money as a gift, to be kind. 

a gift, sana told you. you don’t owe me anything. 

so why is it, then, that you have the distinct impression that jihyo had been simply outbid. 

—

you’re thinking about next time. sana said that there’d be a next time. 

that next time would come, then twice.

then a third.

and after.

the day after that, and the day even after that. 

the room is reverberating the echoes around you, loud with the sounds of heavy pants and wet slaps of skin. you’re clinging to the sheets beneath you, pushing yourself up, moving your hips to meet the frantic pace of sana's fingers curled up inside you. sana then buries a hand into your hair and hitches you up for a kiss that never takes. it’s broken quickly, leaves both of your swollen mouths parted and breathing of each other’s oxygen. you’re relishing the intimacy of the moment. 

when the building pressure at the base of your stomach grows to become too overwhelming, you fall back on the mattress, unmoored without sana’s presence, but she follows you as she always does. she’s binding her arm around your waist and raises you up, hand cupping your cunt while she’s all over your neck again. 

“c’mon,” sana says, voice wrecked, torn from her. “c’mon, honey, one more.” 

you gave sana the opportunity to sit on her face earlier, brown eyes flashing dark and predatory at you while you grind all over her mouth. the hot curl of her tongue relentless against you, reducing you to a living nerve ending. sana wrung out two splintering orgasms out of you, flipping you on your back before you could even recover. you loved it, and you still do, seeing all the ways that you can challenge sana. 

her slender fingers dip down to your clit again and causes you to moan loudly, rocking into her as she circles it firmly: rough, fast motions that she’s learned that you love. to bring you back to that edge quick. 

sana kisses you again, her other hand slipping to your breast above and squeezing. she’s groaning into your core, it’s making you fall deeper into the madness of your situation. 

“you’re so—” she barely mumbles out, her hand on your breast slides down to clamp the divot in your hips. sliding the pillow under the arch of your back in one seamless motion. she’s too good with her hands. “fucking unreal, and perfect.” 

her mouth against your other mouth starts the chain reaction. you’re moaning out more strain behind it. a star-burst of affection igniting in your chest. sana continues to swipe her tongue, the unyielding pressure that makes your vision swimmy, and you let go. 

you’re sobbing out while your hands are trying to find what’s left of the comforter as ecstasy steals over you. sana continues to drive her fingers and tongue into you, letting you feel it: in the air, at the base of your throat, between the rapid, uneven pacing of thrusts from her fingers. when you’re all tuckered out, the clenching fading out from your cunt, soaked with slick while it gets on different parts of your skin; from the leg, to one of your obliques, to the small peak of your boob. 

“o-okay, that’s e-enough.” 

“you taste so fucking good,” sana murmurs, mouth hot against the column of your neck. her hands trailing up and down your stomach. “when you clench around my fingers is just—” 

fucking shit this woman. “sana, please.” 

she sits up with a chuckle, and you’re at the same level too, instantly resting your head on her shoulder, kissing it. sana wraps her arm around your waist, kissing the top of your head, her fingers are tapping away at the v-line. you look up and she kisses you, grinning with delight. 

“will you stay over?” you ask, too plaintive when she pulls away. sana’s smile falters and you feeling the realization, disappointment inbound. 

“i can’t.” a spike lances through you. “my department has a meeting early in the morning. i can’t skip.” 

“oh.” you hate yourself for being upset—she’s a doctor, of course she’s busy—but the feeling rises up anyway, along with the insidious notion that she’s gotten what she wanted and so has little use for you now. without thinking, you start to drift away from sana in slow little increments that she catches, and she pulls you up tight against her, pressing her lips to your hairline. 

“i wish i could say,” sana whispers. “if it were up to me, i’d be here with you everyday.” 

the words are cruel, considering what they are–what you are—but the pain is stamped down. masking it with teasing. “how would you work then?” 

“i’m sure my supervisor could find someone else to fill my place. someone as equally ecstatic to dig their hands into some guy’s intestines.”

“you’re so…casual when you talk about your job.” you say out of respite. 

“are you worried?” sana asks. 

“no.” answering while tracing fingers across sana’s chest, over her still-racing heart, before tapping her chin. “but it makes me wonder if i should be.” 

“is the child psychology major going to psychoanalzye me right now? when i’m twenty-nine years old nearing thirty?” 

“you know the issues of childhood can be far-reaching. you never stop feeling the effects of it.” 

“incredible.” you laugh when sana dips her head and takes your finger in her mouth, biting it gently. “but i’ve always been this way.” 

“which is?” 

a half-feral grin spreads across sana’s face before she abruptly flips you over. you yelp into her mouth as she kisses you, long and slow, and settles over you. she breaks away, still grinning. “crazy about you.” 

you’re flushing hotly, which makes her bark out a delighted laugh, and sana kisses you again. over and over and over. her lips trail from your fluttering eyelids to the tip of your nose to your chin, every nook and cranny of your face that she can reach. when her lips meet yours again, you can taste the sugar on her tongue.

“god, i wish i could stay,” sana rasps, breaking away, and you cling onto her. 

“then stay.” 

“if i did, i’d have to leave at 5 to get ready at my apartment in order to be at the hospital on time. also you have an early class tomorrow. chances are i’d wake you up and you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep.” 

your jaw tightens, and teeth catch your tongue. you don’t want to accuse sana of making excuses, because you know she’s right; it’s happened before. and that’s what burns you, the idea that your angst could have no standing. the operating off of your injured feelings and nothing substantial. this is transnational after all. 

“okay.” you say, coolly. “guess this is goodbye then.” 

“bye y/n.” sana says, kissing your mouth. “goodnight.” 

sana kisses you several times, smothering you in affection. she only stops after you simple, nipping at your nose once before rising off the bed. you watch as sana peels away off the bed, walking around your room, picking up her clothes from the floor and pulling them on. when she’s done, she strides over to you and slides a nick of your hair back, kissing your forehead. 

“i’ll call you tomorrow, sweetheart.” 

“okay.” 

sana ducks down, skating her nose along the edge of your hairline, keeping her mouth close to your ear. “i’ll see you later.” 

you move your head and catch sana’s lips. against them, whispering. “mn, see you later.” 

you notice with some satisfaction that sana’s eyes are fevered as she pulls away, dark with wanting, and you shove your face back into the pillow, clinging to it. sana mutters a soft curse and makes her way to the door, only to immediately jam the knob when she goes to close it. she mutters a curse again, much louder. 

“just give it a little wiggle,” you say, sitting up. “it gets a little tight sometimes when you twist it.” 

“how long has it been like this?” 

“since i got the apartment.” 

“what the fuck?!” sana exclaims. “did anything else come broken?”

“sometimes the water pressure in my shower is really low.” 

“jesus christ, y/n.” sana says again, louder, angrier. “why haven't you told your landlord?” 

“trust me, i have.” you say shrugging your shoulders. “if i said anything more than that he’d just shut off the water entirely.” 

sana sounds pressed, jiggling the knob harder. “i’ll kill him then.” 

“it’s really not that ba—” 

“i’m coming back next week with a repairman,” sana interjects, tone brokering no argument. “i can fix the doorknob myself but i’ll get a plumber for the shower.” 

you duck your head, embarrassed. “you really don’t have to do that, sana.”

“i want to,” she replies, eyes softening when she looks at you. “i don’t want you living in some shit-hole with no running water.”

“i have running water.” 

“we’ll see what the plumber says.” and with that, sana gives up on fixing the jam and breezes past the doorway. a few seconds later, you can hear sana at the front door shut behind her. with a deep sigh, you fall back into the bed and reach for your pillow, thick with her scent, and curls around it to fall asleep. 

in the morning, you wake up to a ten dollar venmo notification for coffee and the contact information of the plumber sana mentioned. 

—

“why haven’t you got my calls or texts?” is the first question that mina asks when you answer the phone. you stifle a laugh. 

“well, good to hear your voice mina.”

“you haven’t called me,” she says again. “is everything okay?” 

you sigh and sink into your loveseat, socks skipping over the fractured leather. your fingers cradle the coffee mug. “nothing’s wrong.” you say. “i’ve been really busy.” 

“with what?” 

“school,” is what you reply with. “not sure if you’ve kept up, but i’m in my last year now. i’ve been getting most of the important work done as much as i can.” a second passes before you add, “and communication is a two-way street. you haven’t been calling me either.” 

“busy with work.” is what mina says in defense. 

“see?” you quirk, a sip of coffee passing through your mouth, tapping your fingers on your knee, waiting for mina to speak. neither of you are particularly verbose, so the shared calls usually play out like this: tense silence, quick updates, the voids that harbored resentment. but you’ve grown far from the desire of mina to be soft for you (she has, doesn’t want to admit it) and you’re just accustomed to the dispassion. 

for the final question on the script: “do you need any money from me?” 

“no, mina. i don’t need money from you or auntie.” 

“i assume the tips are good at your job then?” 

“even better.” 

she hums, like this was real answer, saying, “if you ever need anything, call me.” 

“you know it when i do.” 

“okay then.” 

mina hangs up with a click before the goodbye is even truly articulated on the tongue. 

—

your ears perk up when a knock is heard on the door, moving from your kitchen to walk to the entrance. curious, you open it, only to be swept up into sana’s arms before you can even say hello. she kicks it shut behind her and pins you to the old wood, lips roving over your face. 

“what—” she kisses your mouth twice in quick succession. “—are you doing here?”

“left the hospital for my lunch break,” sana breathes, hitching you up so that a leg is wrapped around her waist. she dips to suck your collarbone, mouth curling when she hears you mewl. “decided to come here.” 

“d-did you eat?” 

“no.” 

sana’s hand slides up from the curve of your ass to your breast, squeezing gently. you moan softly, head thumping against the wood. “you—you should.” 

she separates from your throat to shoot a sly grin. “i’d rather eat you out first.” 

mindless, spurred by sana’s passion, you surge down to kiss her. tightening your legs around her, thighs squeezing as sana’s hand cups your clit. with every pass of the hand, you can feel the shift of your underwear, panties clinging. 

sana buries her hand into your hair, yanking back to expose your throat. she ducks her head to you for another kiss, trailing her lips up and down the line, tongue darting out to taste. her other hand dips down to your ass to bind you up against her, rolling until your toes curl. you sigh and slide your hand into sana’s hair. it would be so easy to just cum from this, but you’d rather put sana’s mouth somewhere else. 

you pull her up by her hair, stomach clenching at the naked want on sana’s face. her eyes, half-lidded and hazy, are trained on your open mouth. when you lick them, her thumb catches your bottom lip. 

“please,” you gasp, moving against sana’s hips. arching. “we need to go to my—” 

sana grins, almost madly, and kisses you hard enough to steal your breath. “what? you’re afraid your neighbors might hear me fuck you again?” 

you blush hotly and sana laughs, but ultimately decides to appease you, heaving you off the wall. she seeks out your lips again and stumbles into the room. impatient, sana kicks open the door, heedless when it slams loudly into the wall. 

you hardly notice also, giddy when sana pushes you onto the bed. it’s a race to get clothes off, pairs of hands fulmbling with the zippers and buttons until sana bats her pants away, you yanking your sweatpants off, meeting for another kiss as she lowers herself over you. you moan loudly when her fingers tease the opening between your legs, feeling the wetness in an instant. 

“my god,” you sigh out, clinging to sana, blood burning beneath your skin; every movement a siren call to your own pleasure. “please, just—just touch me, sana.” 

sana grins rakishly, eyes glittering with mirth. ever the eager observer to your own demise. 

“you’re always so polite, sweetheart.” sana says, and moves down to kiss you. you yourself arch to meet her, pulse skittering at her proximity, at the heady invertibility of mindless pleasure, and—

the lights go out. 

sana stills above you. at first, you’re surprised, waiting for them to flicker back on. this happens sometimes. i mean—the building is old as in 1920s red stone–faulty wiring and out-dated, but nothing comes to fruition. 

“fuck,” you spitt, arousal plummeting to now nothing. you move from under sana. “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—” 

“what’s wrong?” sana asks. you rise from the bed and she follows you to the kitchen. you snatch a pile of envelopes from your counter to dig through them, only to stop when you notice that the lighting outside is too dim to see. you sigh heavily, marching over to your couch to read by the flickering candles. sana sits down beside you, eyeing cautiously. “what’s wrong?” 

“the light bill,” you croak. “the rental agency upped the price recently but i must’ve paid the old amount without ven thinking. god, how could i be so stupid?!” 

“you’re not stupid. don’t talk like that,” sana snaps. she then takes a deep breath, voice much calmer when she adds, “and this is an easy fix. if you pay it now, it’ll be back on in a few hours. this shit happens, y/n.” 

“but i don’t–” have the money. you clench your jaw tight, forcing the words down, but sana can see the pain on your face, can hear it lingering in the air, unsaid. 

“i’ll help you—” you shake your head; you don’t like this, the reminder—” let me help you.” 

“no, sana.” 

“it’s not a big deal. i want to.” 

“i can’t ask you to—”

sana suddenly shifts closer and grabs your face, cupping it between her palms. she looks int your eyes, gaze probing.

“let me,’ she cajoles. “you don’t have to bear the burden of this all on your own. if i’m offering to help you, let me help you.” 

your heart swells. with relief. with dismay. “okay.” 

she pecks your lips before standing up, thumb trailing down your cheek. “where’s your laptop? if your account is set up online, i can pay it now. i still have about forty-five minutes until i have to get back so i can wait with you until then.” 

“it’s on my desk.” 

sana nods once, turning on her heel to march into your room. the second she’s out of sight, you bury your face into her hands, burning with shame. 

—

right after class ends, your phone vibrates. 

you pick it out of your pocket, thumb grayling over your cracked screen to see sana’s contact photo flashing up at you; it was the one taken three weeks ago, with her smiling while you pressed a kiss to her cheek. you’re clicking the green button. 

“hello?” 

“i just realized you’ve never been to my apartment,” sana says, surprising you. “we’ve been together for almost two months and you’ve never seen my house.” 

“oh.” your cheeks flush, pulse skipping at together. “you’ve never really brought it up before.”

“like a fucking idiot. do you wanna come over?” 

your body warms in a near–sudden response, to your eternal horror, and with a bite of your lip. “sure.” 

“cool! i’ll pick you up right now.” 

“you're not working today?” 

“no. i worked eighty hours last week so they gave me a day off. i’m on call, though, which is shitty anyway.” 

“i’m sorry.” 

“it’s fine,” sana dismisses. “so you’re still on campus?” 

“yeah. i just got out of class.” 

“alright, i’ll be there in twenty.” 

“okay. bye.” 

“bye.” sana says, but lingers on the line. for a moment, you think she’s forgotten to hang up, and moves to do it for her until she adds, softly, cutely you might think. 

“i’m excited to see you.” 

your heart thuds, and she hangs up before you can even say something back. 

for twenty minutes, you wait near the entrance of the school, fiddling with your phone until sana texts you to come meet her. finding the car quickly, walking towards the sleek, gray two–seater of her vintage mercedes, and opens the door to see sana grinning at you. a pair of dark sunglasses sit on the bridge of her nose. 

“hi,” sana smiles. 

“hi.” you say back, hating at how shy you still get around her, considering. sana, though, always appears to take a bit of pride to it. 

she chuckles, leaning back in her seat and shifting the car into drive, pulling into the main road. you settle in to watch the hypnotic motion of her hands as she turns the wheel—it almost makes you nostalgic for some reason. 

“so,” sana says, turning onto the street. “how was class?” 

“fine. just sat through a lecture.” 

“about?”  

“well, just the study of psychosocial development of erickson. how the different stages can be embedded by sociological challenges. you don’t want to hear the rest from me.” 

“ah.” you suck a smile in; seeing the cogs in sana’s brain turning. “sounds interesting.” 

“it’s a lot to cover. my professor was telling us about how some guest speaker that’s gonna be presenting next month. apparently she specializes in existential psychotherapy so i’m thinking of seeing that when it comes.” 

“that’s really cool. do you know the name?” 

“no.” you appreciate the effort that sana is showing. elizabeth, as wonderful and cool she was, tended to block you out sometimes: on the occasion she ever needed to. “what about you? how was work?” 

sana groans. “terrible. a guy was rolled in with a bullet wound and was hemorrhaging like crazy. i was able to stop the bleeding and get the bullet out, but the anesthesiologist almost od’d him and killed him. idiot.” 

“wow,” you say. “is he okay now?”

“yeah. but i’m never having that dumbass with me at the table again.” 

“you might have to, though. you’re a new doctor, sana, i don’t know if you have the luxury of writing off your co-workers.” 

sana smirks. “i might.” 

flicking the blinkers on, she turns on the road that leads them deeper into the upper west side. sana drives into a small parking lot behind a tall building before pulling into a space. once the car shifts into park and the keys are yanked out, you step out, mouth parting as you take in the veritable skyscraper in front of you. 

“you live here?!” 

“yeah,” sana says, taking your hand. seeing the stupefied expression, grinning and leading you inside. a red-headed doorman greets sana as you make your way across the lobby. the elevator didn’t even feel like an elevator and once you got past sana’s front door, you’re in full flabbergasted mode—eyes open like saucers. sana smiles at your gasp but when her eyes flicker to you they narrow. 

“i thought it would be a penthouse of sorts.” 

“trust me, it is but at the same time it isn’t.” 

sana’s apartment may not be as lux as you initially thought, but it’s still nice regardless. you can tell that it was costly, dark furniture andwide, open spaces and tall windows. the walls are painted with a light grey. a flat-screen plasma tv hangs in her living room, mounted over a fireplace. the black velvet leather couch is in front of it, clearly brand new. 

her voice echoes the walls. echoes. you’re left marveling. “are you hungry?” sana asks from the dining area, “i have some food from the other day.” 

“what do you got?” 

“some leftovers from this dimsum place, pretty good actually.” 

you giggle. “i thought you would have a much more sophisticated diet to fall back on.” meeting her at the kitchen island while she opens the box of food, tossing a bite into her mouth while you’re scanning through the dumplings. 

“this is delicous.” you say in between bites, sana leaning over pressing a kiss to your temple. “you’re not eating as much, not enough craving?” 

“i had some food earlier.”

“how earlier are we talking?” 

“before i scooped you up.” 

you hum while she feeds you another bite of the warm dumpling that melts so tenderly into your mouth. 

the relaxing downtime with sana felt like a completely different world in her house. you got to know sana’s rough run down backstory of how she got to some form of power when it comes to dealing with which practitioner helps with her or not. being well-connected in her line of work was something to be fortunate with, but sana doesn’t like the idea of wealth being wrapped around her. sure, her clothes may be nice, demeanor brash and language abrasive at times, but she sees the world in a more different light compared to tzuyu and elizabeth on the topic of privilege. 

as for how she got into her career of being a surgeon, she signed up for dual-enrollment in the last two years of her high school to graduate early. the calling of med school already being long in terms of time, so the sooner she could get out, the better. 

“i like that,” you say. “i like how your mind works. i like—”

you. you almost say it. and it aches to not project it, the sudden sting of yearning. you, you, i really like you.

but catching yourself tripping up was something more of a simple defensive mechanism. “the story,” you finish. “pretty funny.” 

“i have better ones.” sana says, grin lighting up her face, more radiant than sunlight. and her obliviousness burns twice as hot. “do you wanna hear about the time my friend bang chan and his best friend felix got mutual restraining orders back in college?” 

—

you’ve read the name of tobio kageyama for probably the thirtieth time in two manga volumes before your mind decided to call for a needed break. 

sitting upright from the couch, stretching and popping joints across the body. a look at the clock shows that it’s a little past eight, realizing that you’ve studied for roughly about two to three hours. too bad you didn’t notice it before because your brain is already bugging and battered into mush. 

so you head to the kitchen, glass cup filled before drinking it once or twice before noticing that sana hasn’t drank any water since she took up a fortress in her office two hours ago, claiming that she had a work call. you fill another glass again, dropping a few ice cubes, before making your way towards her office door–knocking once, “hey, you busy?” 

sana’s voice sounds muffled, weary. “no, come in.” 

entering the room, hesitant like you were intruding on some sacred space. like the rest of her house, sana’s office was nice, richly-furnished. she has a tall, wooden desk in front of her, several files and stacks of paper placed on top. there’s a bookshelf behind in the corner, thick tomes marked by names that you don’t even want to try to read or recognize. the walls are also painted in a dark gray, and there’s a leather couch off to the left side with a blanket placed over it. even sana needs to have her naps sometimes. 

sana then calls for your attention, glasses perched on the bridge of her perfect nose. “did you need something?” 

“no,” you say, inching closer. raising the glass, “i just wanted to get you some water.” 

she smiles in thanks, taking it from you while she approaches with an outreaching hand, grabbing the glass downing it in one gulp. frowning with a mild concern once she gave you back the glass, “were you thirsty?” 

“a bit. i didn’t feel it until now.” 

“are you hungry?” 

“not right now. i’ll eat when im finished with this.” 

“you should take a break,” you say, stepping towards sana. you lean back with your butt to the edge of her desk, half sitting. up close, you can see sana’s stress more evidently, eyes low with exhaustion. “sit on the couch with me. we can watch something together.” 

“i can’t do that, y/n.” 

“why not?” would a short film be better?” 

“i have paperwork. a lot of paperwork. not to mention forms, test results, patient files. i want to try to get through them by tonight.” 

“and you will,” you reply softly, stepping between her legs, resting your hands on her shoulders. “just ten or fifteen minutes of your time, please.” 

“no way we’re watching a movie in ten minutes.” 

“not the movie, you idiot. i was gonna say food instead, you should eat.” 

“‘m not hungry.” 

“not even a snack?” 

sana lets out a smile, placing her hands on your hips. “i appreciate you for being concerned, baby, but i’ll be done soon. i promise. then we can go get something to eat together.” 

looking down at the ground, hands still on shoulder. you’re smoothening the crinkles of sana’s large shirt, fingers brushing up from her neck up to her hair. you lean down and kiss sana fully on the lips, slowly, once, twice, a few times, and rest your knee on her chair between her legs. you break away a bit to pepper languid kisses across the slope of her jaw. 

“relax,” you croon. “take a break with me.” 

sana sinks into you, sighing like she’s expelling a pressure from deep within her chest. her eyes flutter closed, hands twitching around your waist, and when you dip down to kiss her throat, you feel the flushing heat rising from her body.

desire races to the forefront like a freight train, bowling over you with its inteistiey, and you’re running a hand up her thigh towards the center. sana gasps sharply into your parted mouth, fingers clutching around your waist. you’re nearly smiling. 

“you’ve eaten me out before,” you whisper. “but you’ve never let me do the same for you.” 

sana laughs but it’s off, brimming with echoes of a dark promise. “i find it more enjoyable when i eat up your pussy then have you eat mine. better for me to see you cry the way i want you to.” 

there’s a thrill pulsing through your body, throbbing dully in your cunt. you’re ducking down to kiss her again, practically panging into sana’s open mouth as you palm her through her pants. her face is screwed up with a tight coil of pleasure, eyes shut. her fingers dig into the leather armrests at her side. 

“let me,” you whisper again, almost begging. “i want to.” 

sana’s eyes crack open, solely, regarding you as though you were something to be consumed. i want to, you think with a sort of nameless, desperate sense of urgency. i want you to. 

she nods, and you kneel at her feet. 

you’re kissing through her jeans first, soft, affectionate little pecks that make sana groan, fingers sliding up her legs again. you help sana clumsily unbutton her pants, shucking it down and off her thighs. the panties are quick to follow, only first with a trail of your lips over the black-laced fabric, soaked with her wetness that fills up your nose. sana is wrecked with the effect you have on her, just some light kisses and heavy petting, making your cunt fucking clench; you don’t think you’ve ever met anyone who’s wanted you even half as much. 

when sana’s panties are gone left with her shirt; the scent is intoxicating. her folds are glistening. she sighs of pure bliss when you lick up her slit, mouth lingering on her clit. her hips twitch from the initial contact. you stifle a smile when you shower a few more kisses, and she groans loudly when you part her legs, squeezing her inner thighs tightly the more you shove your face into her cunt. 

you’ve eaten out girls before, but sana was more of an anomaly. to play it safe, you experiment, trying to see what she likes best. licking at her, teasing her walls with a finger, leaving teased kisses to the area outside of her pussy. sana can’t contain herself when she pulls your head back in with her hand, moaning into her core, the vibrations too overwhelming coming from your mouth to her legs. 

“fuck,” sana moans. “fuck, y/n–baby, fuck. i’m gonna—” 

nodding at her, you don’t let up the pace of tearing up her cunt. fingers in walls and grunting into her. she doesn’t even let you breathe. the heels of her feet on your shoulders as her hands are on the back of your head, nails scratching the scalp the more you’re lapping her up. only then you pull away as she coos out locking eyes with you, the sight of licking your mouth lean with your tongue from her slick almost makes her lose it from the seat. 

“i’m gonna ruin you,” sana promises, snarling, gaze devouring, mad with want. it sends a deep vibration into your cunt while she looks up to the ceiling. “you won’t be able to walk.” 

you could’ve just came right then and there, vision whiting out at the edges. somehow you kept your sanity in check, ducking your head for more fully. humming and sliding your tongue over her cunt, nibbling on her clit and with a sudden jerk followed by a sharp groan, she cums. 

a whole assortment of papers, files, pens, and pencils are scattered to the floor as sana digs her hand beneath your shirt and rips it off of you. your lips meet hers for another frantic kiss, laying back as she’s settling over you. 

she shoves your sweats down along with your panties, letting them dangle from your feet. sana then moves back to your chest, hands moving like a firebrand, searing your skin with every touch. desperate to feel more of it, you sit up slightly and unclasp your bra. the second you’ve tossed it, sana’s hands are quick to palm, mouth hot against your own as she swallows your keening sigh. 

“you have the most perfect tits in the world,” sana breathes, thumbs circling your nipples, forefingers roving down to pinch. the sweet pleasure-pain sparks a heavy throb in your core, and she arches into you, spreading your legs wide. you moan when sana’s mouth is around your breast, the other hand folding you. 

“god, sana, please,” you beg, clinging to her. your hips are twitching, the emptiness inside you turning into a physical ache. 

“what is it, baby?” sana switches over to your other mound, tongue laving over your nipple. your eyes fluttering, mind spinning at the sight. “what?” 

moaning helplessly, and her hand slides down to your cunt, thumb sliding up the wet gusset of your panties to find your clit. when she presses down, your hips jerk forward, shrieking. she’s laughing around your boob. 

“yeah, there we go,” sana sighs out, rubbing at you languidly, moving slow with the roll of her hips. “that feels good, doesn’t it?” 

“ye—ah—yes, yes it feels good.” 

“i know.” sana kisses up to your throat, sucking the soft spot beneath your jaw, lips deceptively sweet. “but you want more, don’t you.” 

more. 

your stomach seizes at the thought of it, the promise. you grasp at her wrist and sana hisses, dipping her hand beneath underneath your underwear to slide a finger inside you. keening when she adds another digit, stretching you open—another sounds leaves your mouth and sana laughs when you’re clamping around her fingers.

“you feel so good like this, y/n. so good.” she watches as she fucks her fingers in and out of you, transfixed by the sight. almost resentful of her own body. “i wish i could live in you. i wish—” 

“you could,” somehow croaking that out when she has four fingers inside. “i’d let you.” 

sana lets her intrusive thoughts get the better of her, growling while she surges down your body. your panties are up in the air as she raises a leg up, thumb petting your clit. you’re rearing up with a shout, a splintering sound, bursting, but sana doesn’t give you any breathing room. next thing you know, she has the flat plane of her tongue swiping upward that pushes your undoing even faster. 

it’s good enough to cry, you can feel the salt on your tongue when sana leans up again for another kiss before trailing down to your pussy. there’s a malformation with how the kisses are sloppier on your lips above and below, but the pleasure is good. she makes you feel like euphoria is an ever-present force that is kept within you, and it’s much deeper than the sex. the sprawling root of it is happiness, and sana. 

“c’mon, y/n, my lovely girl,” sana says tightly, jaw clenching when she breathes over your clit. her eyes hazy like she might be the one to cum again. “give me another.” 

you wrap your legs around her, canting up so that her mouth and tongue go deeper, and you both moan from it. sana’s finger finds your clit again, so wet the sound is purely obscene, but it only strokes the fire of your pleasure, makes it build higher and higher. 

“that’s it. there we go. t-there—” 

sana stops short. a bitten-off cry, and she doubles down on your clit. her fingers clench around your walls, and there’s a gentle wave—mouth parted to sigh. 

she stays for a second, pulling her hand out examining the slimy fluid between the fingers, licking them seductively that makes you roll your eyes and look away. sana just laughs at you, “fuck you, for making me like this.” 

your head hits the desk, “not sorry. i like it when you’re needy for me.” 

she huffs out, “little minx. when i’m done with you—” 

“what? i won’t be able to walk?” 

sana’s face falls flat, but her eyes spark with lurid determination as she leans in and whispers, “everything i’ve gotten in life, i’ve had solely because i wanted it badly enough. you think that doesn’t apply to the things i wanna do to you?” 

your heart hammers like a jack-rabbit. red-hot heat slowly consumes your face. “i—”

she moves off of you but keeps her arms bracketing your hips. “we’re moving to my room,” she interjects. “i need a bed if i want you to sit on my face.” 

eyes were wide open while you managed to slip out of sana’s hold, scurrying to the bedroom down the hallway. sana’s signature laugh echoes as she chases you down behind. 

—

it’s a bit chilly outside when mina calls you, the autumn weather creeping beneath your new coat to settle into your bones. hitching the collar up your neck for cover, and the phone is out from your pocket to see your cousin’s name. you’re repressing a sigh, picking up, 

“hey.” 

“yo.” mina has many greetings. “where are you right now?” 

“i got out of class, walking to the subway.” 

“are you by yourself?” 

“yes,” you say. “obviously. why wouldn’t i be?” 

“you usually have that slightly taller girl tagging along with you. the one with the model face.” 

“tzuyu.” you correct sharply. “and you’re not wrong, but she has her own life. you know? a girlfriend?” 

“and you? you got anyone?” 

frozen, stumbling in your tracks. mina could be asking for curiosity, but you know your cousin too well; she’s not the kind to be asking unnecessary questions. 

“no, i don’t,” you answer cautiously. 

“are you sure?” 

“why even bother asking me?” you retort, voice clipped. “even if i was seeing someone. i’d mention it right away, even with thanksgiving around the corner.” 

“i don’t see what thanksgiving has anything to do with it.”

“most normal people introduce their partners to family, mina. not everything personal is some dirty little secret.” 

“don’t you dare try to get snippy with me. i was just asking a question, not cuffing you to a table for an interrogation. chillax.” 

you’re cringing with knitted brows, stepping down the stairwell into the subway station. it’s a lot warmer, “whatever. i just wanted to know why you were asking.” 

“i was asking because you haven’t been calling me lately. i figured that someone else was taking up all of your time besides auntie.” 

your jaw tenses. there’s this wave of guilt that makes your clinch your lip, voice much gentler when you follow up, “i’ve just been busy, mina. you know that.” 

“yeah?” the customary ten seconds of loaded silence pass before mina adds, “speaking of busy, don’t come down for thanksgiving this year. i’m gonna be busy with work.” 

work. the nameless occupation mina had never bothered explaining to you, not since you were in your teens. you’ve had your own suspicions and theories, but you never even had the frame of mind to confirm them yourself. 

even with the disappointment; it’s actually comforting in a weird sense. “that’s fine. i have finals to get ready for anyway.” 

“you’re not upset by this?” 

“no.” 

“and you’re not lying to me about anything, right?” 

“no, mina.” you say, smiling ruefully. “why would i? when have either of us ever lied each other about anything?” 

good as dammed, but there’s no care for it. i wouldn’t even matter anyway. it comes as a concern for how little tinges of that feeling is there still. 

mina sighs out. “talk to you later then, if you do call me.” 

you hang up after. the lasting thought of mina doesn’t even come afterwards. 

—

not even more than two steps into the entrance hallway when the doorbell calls you. 

you’re freezing, eating away at the fragile patience, but when you look through the peephole. you don’t think twice about opening the door. “tzuyu?” 

she’s standing across from you, arms folded, foot tapping, and pouting. “you’ve been neglecting me.” she accrues.

“huh?” you ask stupidly while blinking in a fast state.

tzuyu rolls her eyes and breezes past you, chilling air carrying the rich scent of yves saint-laurent. you follow her into the living rom, watching her shuck off her louis vutton jacket and tosses it onto the seat. 

“well?” she demands, whirling around to face you. “tell me what did she do to you?” 

“what?” 

“your little sugar mommy-doctor-girlfriend.” 

“tzuyu–” 

“whatever she did, she’s good enough to keep you from calling or texting your best friend for a week.” 

“what?” you’re gasping out again. “a week? i haven’t…” 

with a rush of the phone, you’re pulling up messages only to notice that you have, in fact, been ignoring tzuyu’s texts for the better part of a week. all of your besties messages. the only person you’ve kept consistent contact with is sana, and the last text you sent her was–

well—best to the imagination. 

“i’m so sorry,” you breathe out, throwing your phone off to approach tzuyu, taking her mittened hands, gently directing her to sit on the couch. “i’m so sorry, tzuyu. i didn’t mean to ignore you or shuhua or irene or anyone, i just—” 

“you’ve been preoccupied with your new girl?” 

“yeah,” you admit, bit of shame hanging, but adding, “and school. dooyoung–the guy editing my thesis—says it’s coming together really nicely, so.” 

tzuyu whoops, reaching out to shake your leg. “and you’ll be presenting it next semester! how do we feel about that?” 

“pretty good.” 

suddenly, her eyes soften, shifting closer. “i was mostly kidding, by the way, about you neglecting me. i remember how i was when i first got with shuhua. you couldn’t get me away from her.” 

“it’s different, though.” 

“what makes you say that?” 

“because shuhua is your girlfriend and sana is my—” 

you stop, horrified by the abrupt burn of tears. you turn away to conceal yourself, blinking hard, but tzuyu was always quick to notice. she wraps her arms around your elbow, leaning into your shoulder. “your sugar mommy,” she finishes gently, but you flinch like it’s a slap. 

“yeah. that.” 

“if it bothers you so much, then why are you staying with her?” i’m sure she’s given you enough that you have time to figure out another way to get money. it’s not like you need her.” 

“yeah,” you reply dully, still not meeting eyes with tzuyu. your mind is playing the denial aspect a lot more tougher now. “you’re right. i don’t.” 

—

with all things and struggles, you compartmentalize. 

you’re refusing to think of the blooming feelings for sana more than you have to, and in the even that you can’t, distraction was the solution: school, work, friends. and on the rare occurrence as crazy it would seem, shopping. 

“an IKEA drawer?” sana asks, baffled. you keep your phone between shoulder to ear. “why the fuck did you go to IKEA?” 

“i needed to,” you answer, pushing the giant box inside of your apartment, leaning against the wall as it’s on the wall. “my other drawer was broken. i’ve had it for like, seventeen years, so i figured that it was time for a change.” 

“and you could afford it?”

a rhetorical question. what sana’s really asking if the two bundred she sent you last week was a decent enough amount that you could splurge on. clenching your teeth, flushing. 

“yes.” 

“y/n, baby. i sent you the money so that you could go shopping.”

“i did. and i shopped at IKEA.” 

“are you gonna build the drawer now?” 

“yeah.” 

“let me come over. i can build it for you/” 

“sana, it’s fine. i’ve built furniture before.” 

“so have i. in fact, i bet i could have it done in half the time it takes you to read the instructions.”

“oh really now?” cocking a brow in disbelief. “how soon can you come over?” 

—

time didn’t really pass, staring at sana from the bed, chin resting on your palm as you watch her hiss and curse to herself, pink screwdriver in hand. the sweat rolls enticing down the hard ridges of her abs, her hair is up and out of her face in a knot. the most exhilarating part in all of this was watching him use her shirt as a sweat rag. 

“are you sure you don’t—”

“i’m almost done,” sana snaps, eyes flashing with indignation. “just give me ten more minutes.” 

true to her word, she was nearly done. the drawer stands tall in front of her, most of the pieces already constructed and put into place. all that’s missing is the top set of the drawers, which she has in her hands right now. 

still, it’s only mildly entertaining just to watch sana. you debated studying to pass the time, but the focus wasn’t enough on your book to make it stick. reading was also out of the question, and texting irene went nowhere after she revealed that she was on a date and couldn’t speak. the news that things with her and seulgi were going well and exciting to hear, but not long after. sana’s shirt was off. 

“it’s really fucking hot in here,” had been the excuse mainly. 

“is this supposed to keep me distracted? you ask. 

“i’m not trying to do anything. if you’re distracted, that’s your prerogative.” 

liar. she’s been annoyed the second you stopped foching on her long enough to try facetime tzuyu. 

you sigh, spitefully debating on what you can do to fluster sana. the limited options, though, tend to lean more in one direction and the idea of willfully doing any of them was embarrassing. 

suddenly, she whoops. “i finished!” 

you roll over on your stomach to see sana sliding the drawer into the top slot, circling it, pulling on different knobs to test the tightness and checking for smoothness of the pulling out and pushing in of the drawers. she grins at you, triumphantly. “i told you i could do it.”

“i never said that you couldn’t.” 

“it was in your tone.”

you smile, and sana straightens up to bend something in her body. a loud crack sounds, followed by a pained sigh, and her eyes open more glazed. “fuck.” 

soon after sana is laid flat on the mattress when you motioned her, face turned towards you with a look that says are you okay? 

“my back. it’s been annoying me since work—fuck.” 

you nick your head as you cautiously glide your hands over her skin, kneading the muscle softly, and sana just hums with relief. “keep doing that.” 

straddling on sana’s ass, languidly moving your fingers up. she just melts. sana perks up when you giggle. “what?” 

“nothing.” 

“tell me.” 

“i think it’s kinda bad for you to have back pain at your age, and it’s kinda mindblowing how active you are.”

“don’t be that dramatic, i’m not that old.” 

“for someone that’s near thirty.”

“that’s a bit harsh.” 

you giggle again before leaning down, lips skimming sana’s ear lobe. “i’m just teasing you.”

“you’re so fucked up for saying that, i’m only twenty-nine still.” 

“don’t be so sensitive.” you say pressing a kiss to her nape. “not bad if you're in your early late twenties early thirties while i’m in my early twenties.” 

sana sinks into you, like clay in your hands. when you move to the ridge of her cheekbone, she leans into you, turning her head to catch your lips. a languid kiss is shared, tongues melding, unhurried, but that fire is sparked between your hips and it becomes urgent. it’s a slow grind that’s rolled out, eyes fluttering at the friction. 

you pull away while sana breathes out, “fuck,” and flips you over now that you’re straddling over her front. your hands are on her waist, and sana moves her leg up between your legs, doubling down on the notice that you’re not wearing anything underneath the shorts, lips parting. 

she leans up to kiss you. sana always kisses you, mouth consuming like she wants to suck you inside. “i didn’t know you watching me build furniture would get you so hot.”

“everything you do gets me hot.” 

sana moans and binds you up against her, hips bucking, delicious friction sending stars behind your eyes. you wrap your arms around her neck, panting into her mouth, so euphoric that you want to weep. so happy. 

when she breaks way to squeeze your breasts, a loud knock sounds at the door, startling you. sana, however, is unmoved.

“ignore it,” she says, breath hot on your neck. “ride me.” 

your eyes flutter and you’re grasping at her hair, already picturing it, the slick coming out of you on her leg, the fruition and contact deep enough to send you reeling. and then you hear it: 

“y/n!” another loud knock, more insistent. “open the door!”

shit, you think, cursing, the word flying form your mouth now. “shit, shit.” 

sana pulls away from you, concerned, but you’re already beating her in the scramble. she watches you rush to the mirror to fix your hair. 

“what’s up? who is that?” 

“mina,” you breathes, cold panic pulsing through your veins. “my cousin.”

“oh, well—”

“it’s a bigger deal than you think,” you snap. “and stay here. she can’t see you.” 

sana’s eyes widen. “what–?” 

“stay here, sana.” 

you rush out of the room and hurry towards the front door. through the peephole, you see mina on the other side, arms crossed and expression stoic. you exhale deeply before opening the door, forcing a smile. 

“hi, mina.” 

she hums in greeting, shoulders knocking as she walks past you. when she spots the IKEA box, she stops short. 

“you bought furniture?”

“yes,” you answer hesitantly, clammy fingers clasped behind you. “i needed a new drawer.” 

“why didn’t you tell me?” 

“i need to call you every time i buy furniture?” 

“no. but these things sell for three hundred bucks. it’s expensive.”

“this one was on sale. one–fifty.” 

mina makes a deep sound in her throat, unsatisfied, but her journey is continued throughout your apartment. 

“so, uh. what are you doing here?” 

“it’s thanksgiving tomorrow.” 

“oh. i thought…you told me not to come. you said you were busy.” 

“some time opened up in my schedule,” she says, and finally stops long enough to look at you. her eyes were shrewd, filled with knowing. it only raises the sirens going off in your head louder. “i decided to come see you.”

“ah,” you breathe. “well, um. i didn’t buy any food. maybe we can order–?” 

“why are you so flustered? mina interrupts. “is there something going on?” 

“what? no, no, of course–”

“mina?” icy pinpricks poke your skin, and you slowly turn around to see sana standing in the hallway. her clothes and hair have been fixed, and she smiles at mina with a polite curiosity. 

your cousin’s expression sours instantly. “who the fuck is this?” 

“mina!”

“who is this. why is she in you apartment?!” 

sana walks towards mina, unphased by the insult. she sticks her hand out, “my name is minatozaki sana. nice to meet you.” 

mina peers at sana, neck tilted at an angle that would be comical if not for the fact that you feel like throwing up. finally, she looks at you again. 

“we need to talk.”  

#hyunie #sana x reader #twice x reader #kpop x reader #kpop imagines #twice sana #sana #minatozaki sana #minatozaki sana x reader #twice x you #twice imagines #sana imagines #sana minatozaki #twice fluff #twice smut #sana smut #sana twice

[greatooglymooglyyy]

The Last Ride Chapter Two (AU Cowboy!C.Sturniolo)

series masterlist

summary: when spoiled and sheltered city girl Y/N finds herself in running in the wrong crowd, her dad gives her an ultimatum. it's either spend the summer of her gap year on her uncle's ranch or face being cut off and finding a job. just when she thinks it can't get any worse, she meets Chris, the brooding farmhand who thinks he knows her type. but as the summer goes on, they both realize there may be more to the other than meets the eye.

requested and advised by @rootbeerworshiper

a/n: ok remember when i said this chapter wasn't gonna be that long? i lied. but i love y'all if that helps. also thx so much for 500 followers. that's unreal.

contains: arguing, general ranch activities, cussing, not really anything crazy, 2.6k words

“Rise and shine, city girl!”

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I peel open my eyes and squint at the annoying figure in my doorway who’s flicking the lights on and off.

“Chris. Please fuck off.” I mumble, rolling over and yanking the covers over my head. I don’t even know what time it is but from the lack of sun pouring in through the curtains, I know it’s too damn early.

“C’mon now. Get up. You’re gonna wanna get a good breakfast in before we start.” He urges but I just reach out from under the blanket and shoo him away.

“Yes! I was hoping it would come to this.” Chris says, sounding way too excited for my liking. I scramble up in suspicion just in time to see him lifting a bucket of water over where my head was.

“Do it and die!” I yell and he grins in response, lowering the bucket.

“Thought you’d see it my way.” He pauses for a second squinting. “Are you wearing fuckin’ Gucci pjs?” He asks, his voice dripping with disbelief.

“Why don’t you mind the business that pays you?” I grumble, throwing my legs off the bed and into my house shoes so he will leave.

“Unfortunately, I am.” He deadpans. “Get dressed. And I swear before the lord, if I see anything designer, I’ma push you into the pig sty.”

“I’m not an idiot, you know!” I call before he can close the door. He looks over his shoulder, eyes catching on my fuzzy slippers before he answers.

“We’ll see.”

He clicks the door shut and I get out of bed, heading to my suitcase in a bit of a panic. I throw it open, hoping that I managed to pack at least one outfit that will work but cursing under my breath when I find I didn’t. I’m about to admit defeat, mourning my Rick Owens, when I turn and look at the duffle bag my dad handed me before we left home.

He’d placed it alongside my other luggage in the foyer and I’d been so angry at him I didn’t bother to ask what it was. I unzip it and sigh with relief when I find several sets of overalls, cheap denim, and basic tees. He even added a pair of the ugliest work boots I’ve ever seen. It makes my heart lurch to think of him being this thoughtful when he was so mad at me and I almost want to call him. Almost.

I mean he did ship me off to bum-fuck Louisiana. The least he could do is give me a wardrobe. I huff in renewed indignation before heading to the bathroom to get ready.

When I’m finally dressed, I head into the kitchen where my aunt and uncle are laughing with Chris at the table.

“Good morning,” I say quietly, heading over to where Aunt Birdie has left me a plate. Chris looks me up and down before shooting me a taunting thumbs up and I glare back.

“You excited for your first day, bunny?” My aunt asks, standing to collect my uncle and Chris’ plates. I give her a look over my fork full of eggs and she laughs. “I promise it won’t be as bad as you think.”

Uncle Buck cuts in with a curt laugh, grunting as he stands up. “Now don’t you go lyin’ to the girl.” He looks at me with an apologetic smile. “Not to scare ya down the road or nothing, honey. But the first couple days are gonna be rough.” He claps a hand on Chris' shoulder, who’s been watching the interaction with a knowing smirk. “But I’m sure our boy here will take it easy on you today.”

“Of course I will.” Chris lies, nodding down at my plate. “But maybe you should eat up, darlin’. You might need it.”

***************

“Not like that!” Chris snaps, leaning over my head to run a calming hand over the cow I’m desperately trying to milk. “Don’t tug on her. Just squeeze. Firm but gentle.”

“Well, that’s how they do it in the cartoons so-” I cut myself off and roll my eyes as Chris gives me a look like I have two brain cells. “Why can’t you do it then? And I’ll watch.”

“Because then you won’t won’t learn… obviously.” He says, talking slowly as if I’m a toddler.

He walks around the front of the cow and nuzzles her nose. “Hey, Daisy girl. It’s okay. Sorry about her.”

“How do you know it’s a girl?” I ask as he comes back over and squats down next to me. Chris’ jaw drops and he blinks at me slowly.

“Holy shit. There’s no fuckin’ way-”

“Nevermind-”

“How the fuck would a male pro-”

“Let it go-”

“You think we’re out here milking a bull’s ball-”

“Chris! Just help me!” I cut in, frustration clear in my tone. He sighs and leans forward, readjusting my hand placement and showing me how to squeeze. When milk finally comes out, I squeal in excitement and look over at him. He meets my eye with an amused grin before his face drops and he pulls away.

He clears his throat and stands, wiping his hands off on his jeans. “Yeah, just keep doing that. That’s good.” He comments as I continue following his guidance.

When the cow is all milked I stand, pouring my bucket into the larger one Chris points at and give him a cocky smile. “See. I’m not so stupid after all.”

He rolls his eyes and claps sarcastically. “Mhm. Great job.” He comes over to me, placing a hand on my shoulder and turning me to the left. “Now for the other eight.”

I groan in defeat, leaning down to pick my bucket back up. Wonderful.

************

“Okay. For whatever reason, some of the hens don’t like to lay their eggs in the nesting box. We don’t sell those, we just keep them for ourselves and Birdie cooks with ‘em.” He hands me a plastic bucket half filled with hay. “Go walk around and find ‘em all.”

I smile despite myself at this. “Like Easter?”

Chris chuckles and dusts off his hands. “Sure, city girl. Like Easter.”

I roll my eyes as I start looking around the coop, spotting a few eggs in the corner. “Stop calling me city girl.”

“Oh, that’s right. You like bunny better, huh?” He teases, heading over to the nesting box and coaxing the hens out his way.

I toss a glare at his back as I continue my egg hunt. “Or you could just call me my damn name.”

“What’s the fun in that?” He walks over to me and holds up a cracked egg for me to see. “You ever get a defective one like that, you throw it out, you hear? I don’t wanna see it in my pile.”

I scoff at his bossy attitude and I throw him a salute. “Sir, yes, sir.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He grins, going back to the box. “Why do they call you that anyway? Bunny. Are you really as sweet as all that?”

“Try me and find out,” I reply, scooping up the last of the eggs. I turn and find Chris staring at me with his eyebrows raised, realizing my mistake. “I didn’t mean it like-”

He turns back to the box, cutting me off. “Nah. I think I’ma need to think of something new. Name you somethin’ that fits you better. Let me think.”

“Sure, bud,” I say, stepping closer to him as he explains the difference between the white and brown eggs.

************

“When do we get to go see the horses?” I ask as we load up the pickup truck with more food and water.

He looks over at me in surprise. “You a horse girl? Makes sense. Thought you were weird.”

I glare at him and he chuckles. “Shut up. I just liked to ride a bit when I used to come here.”

He nods and pulls up the tailgate. “It was somebody else’s day to fed ‘em.” He says before he notices the disappointment on my face. “But we can swing by. We’re going that way anyway.”

I give him a small grateful smile and he gestures for me to hop in the truck.

When we pull up to the stables, I’m almost overwhelmed by the memories that flood me. Me standing on a stool to brush my childhood horse, Pinkie Pie. My first time riding, my grandpa stuck like glue to the side of the horse and holding the reins.

I shake it off, not wanting to get emotional and head in behind Chris. He shows me around, pointing to a few of the horses and telling me their names before handing me some oat treats to feed them. I look around at their beautiful faces before I spot one that catches my attention.

She looks almost identical to Pinkie, with chestnut coloring that fades a bit darker around her neck and face. I walk up to her and extend my hand for her to eat from, keeping my palm flat.

“Hold on!” Chris starts but he drops his sentence as she gently begins to eat. I bring up my other hand and stroke her face gently.

“Hey there, gorgeous.”

Chris walks up beside me, clearly dumbfounded. “I can’t believe she’s letting you feed her by hand let alone touch her. Cinnamon’s a mean ole girl. Ain’t that right.” He reaches over the fence and scratches her neck. “She only likes me and your uncle.”

I tut and Cinnamon nuzzles her face close to mine, dropping her ears and closing her eyes.

“Well, I guess she has a new favorite,” I say with satisfaction. I play with her for a few more minutes, giving her love and some more treats before I remember Chris is there.

He’s leaning against the fence staring at us with his arms crossed, a strange dopey look on his face. I raise my eyebrows at him and he clears his throat and pushes up.

“C’mon. Let’s get back to work.”

************

“Lift with your legs and your core, woman. You’re gonna throw your damn back out.” Chris nags as I attempt to pour the pig feed into their container.

“Well, you could be a manly man and lift it for me!” I say breathlessly, grunting with effort. He comes over and snatches the bag from me, lifting it like it was a stick of gum.

“What are you gonna do when I’m not with you?” He says when he’s done, dropping the bag between his feet.

“Oh, I get the feeling you’ll always be over my shoulder so I’m not worried,” I say looking down sadly at my ruined nails. Chris notices and taps his foot for my attention. He's got his evil ass smirk on when I look up at his face and I know I’m in trouble.

“Y’know. I was gonna wait till tomorrow but I reckon it’s about time to weigh a couple of the piglets.”

My eyes widen to saucers at the idea of picking one of those dirty things up. “Chris-”

“Why don’t you go grab us one, huh? Just swing over the fence.” He’s cheesing, seeming the most entertained I’ve seen him yet; and that’s saying something.

I stomp around to the front of the pin, not wanting to let him win. There’s no way I’m sliding over a fence and picking up a pig in the same breath so I unhook the gate and swing it open.

“Wait! Y/N! Don’t-” Chris calls out but it’s too late. A piglet jets his ass out the gate and takes off across the field. I cuss loudly then slam the gate shut before another one can Houdini their way out. Turning on my heel, I take off after the little pig, listening to the laughter of the other workers behind me.

He’s fast, I’ll give him that, and I chase him all the way to the horse stables. He runs in but gets spooked when they neigh and turns back allowing me to scoop him up. He squeals and squirms in protest but I hold on tight.

“Got you. You little trackstar.” I say, out of breath. I turn around and start to head back, stopping in my tracks when I see Chris coming around the corner with a cage.

He takes the piglet from me and I hunch over, trying to stabilize my breathing.

“Bet you listen to me, next time.” He says after he’s got Wilber Jr. secured. But I don’t respond. I just stay bent over exhausted, feeling tears pricking my eyes. Chris notices and comes over, placing a hand on my back and rubbing in circles.

“Hey. I think it’s time for a break. How’s lunch sound?”

*************

We sit on the bed of the truck eating the lunches Aunt Birdie packed for us quietly. I scrunch my nose up when I notice him sipping out of a Pepsi can.

“Does Coke not bother sending their product to this fuck ass state?” I say teasingly.

He screws his face up at me and shakes his head. “Not gonna lie. I’m not even surprised when you’re wrong anymore.”

I laugh lightly, taking another bite of my sandwich.

“So…” Chris starts, reaching back, tossing his trash in the bag. “Tell me somethin’ I don’t know about you, Scotch. Got any siblings?”

“Scotch?” I question, raising my eyebrow at the nickname.

“Yeah. Scotch. Cus people always like to say it has all this kick to it… but, uh, it goes down smoother than you’d think.” Chris maintains eye contact with me for a second and then looks away, stretching.

I smile to myself and clear my throat before answering. “Well… anyway. No to the sibling question. I always wanted one though.”

He snaps pointing at me like he’s having a breakthrough. “There it goes. You’re proving my only kid theory.”

I roll my eyes and push his shoulder playfully. “Shut up.”

He grins at me and cracks his fingers. “Okay give me some more. What else?”

“I’m from Los Ang-”

He cuts me off with a shake of his head. “Duh. I asked about you. Not where you’re from.”

I furrow my brows in thought. Those two things have always been one and the same to me. “Um.. okay. Well, how about you go first? Do you just have your sister or are there more of you?” I shudder dramatically.

He raises a brow at the jab but answers anyway. “Just me and her. She’s my everything.” He smiles lightly and then nudges me with his shoulder. “You’re not off the hook. What do you wanna do when you grow up?” He asks, his tone taking on a mock childish quality. I laugh and rest my face on my cheek, thinking.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out but it’s hard,” I say, drumming my fingers against my face.

He scoffs and I look over at him in confusion. “What?”

“Nothin’. It’s just…I don’t get what’s hard about it.” He says simply.

I sit up, my guard snapping back into place. “I don’t understand what you don’t understand. I mean it’s the rest of my life we’re talking about.”

He rubs a hand over his face and shrugs. “I mean not really. If you don’t like it, you’ll just call up mommy and daddy to fix it for you.” I blink at him and he holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying.”

“No, you’re just being an fucking asshole. As usual.” I snap, sliding off the truck, and storming off toward the goats. I don’t know why his judgment is suddenly affecting me at all but it doesn’t matter. The quicker I get this day over, the quicker I can get away from Chris fucking Sturniolo.

🏷️@sturniolho @sttzee @tillies33ssss @miloisdone1 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @mrsmiagreer @asturniolos

@teapartyprincess4two @whicked-hazlatwhore @sukiipjs @accio326 @sturniolosmind @imfromthediningtable

#sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo oneshot #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo headcanon #chris sturniolo fic #chris sturniolo angst #chris sturniolo x you #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader

[seventeenpins]

triptych - pt ii

pairing: tommy miller x joel miller x f!reader

word count: 3.3k

summary: after a shitty day, the man you've been chatting with all evening brings you back to his place only for you to discover he lives with his brother, an old flame of yours. they both fuck you. pre-outbreak. 18+

warnings: ooof i know i'm gonna miss something but here goes! multiple orgasms, dirty talk, pussy eating, dick sucking, ass eating/ass play, anal, joel miller is an ass man, double penetration, it's literally just porn there is so little substance here it's shameful, probably not incest but maybe a little??? like the brothers aren't into each other but their balls kinda touch so i'll leave that just in case..., light spanking, creampie, light breeding?, pls tell me if i'm missing anything important

a/n: wowowow i cannot believe how fuckin lovely y'all are, i hadn't been writing for years but i certainly never received so much feedback. thanks for reading and interacting and being part of such a cool and deeply horny community 😅 my asks are always open and i'd love to take on some requests! thank u to those who've sent some so far, i'm working on them now. besides requests, upcoming fics include a follow-up to bad girl and a vampire au 💕

also, thank you for indulging in this pairing!! (grouping?) i feel like a lot of threesome fics are very pro-joel with tommy cucking, and though they're fucking excellent, i wanted to give tommy some love and an equal place at the side of his incredibly hot brother.

check out part i

when you'd first sat down at that grimy dive bar, never in a million years would you have anticipated the scene that was unfolding in front of you now.

“shit," tommy says, "she looks so nice down on her knees for us, huh joel?”

joel looks feral as he stares you down. "such a good girl for us,” he agrees, “but we gotta see if that mouth can do more than talk.”

he's holding your wrists behind your back, while tommy grips a firm hand through your hair and unbuckles his belt with the other.

"open up, baby," tommy says, and presses one finger into your mouth and then another. he gently strokes his fingers in and out of your mouth, pressing into your tongue, slowly going deeper and deeper till you're sure you can feel the digits at the back of your throat. you can feel that you've started to drool a little, and tommy lets out a little groan at the discovery.

"you think you're ready for me?" tommy asks, and you nod.

in one smooth motion, his cock is springing from his boxers and the head is pressing gently at your lips.

feeling just the tip in your mouth, you already know your jaw is gonna hurt tomorrow. you relax your jaw and open wider, and tommy makes a slightly strangled noise that you take as a great sign.

as he fucks into your mouth, your eyes begin to water and tommy notices, brushing the tears away.

"you're takin' it so good," joel lavishes his praise on you and you never want it to end, "such a good girl, aren't you? keep that throat nice and open for my brother, won't ya? i know you wanna relax into it, baby, let him see just how much you love havin his dick down your throat."

it makes you moan, his words making you almost uncomfortably wet. tommy keeps thrusting down your throat, hips occasionally stuttering.

"shit, honey-" tommy says, and chuckles at your whine when he pulls his cock out of your mouth, "you're suckin' it so good, i need a break or i'm gonna come in that pretty mouth a whole lot sooner than i mean to."

joel drops your wrists and backs up to the sofa.

"why don'tcha sit on my lap, darlin'?" he grins, and pats on his inner thigh, his cock visibly straining in his jeans, a little damp patch visible where you're sure the tip is.

"only if you take your pants off," you say, and joel's eyebrows shoot up.

joel considers. "fine, but we're gonna work you up real nice before you get to sit on anyone's cock.

once you're sat on joel's lap, his cock straining against his boxers, tommy’s kissing you with such frenzied passion you feel dizzy. the sensation is only heightened when joel runs a knuckle down your spine, dragging over each vertebrae, massaging and tantalising. then both hands are grabbing at your waist and over your hips as if mapping you out. it’s not overtly hungry, not yet, but there’s a sensuality to it you didn’t quite remember from your brief and ill-fated encounters with joel years back. you're suddenly hit with a pang of sadness that you never stayed in touch. you would've liked to see him get his first grey hairs. instead it feels like you hit fast forward and jolted ahead.

joel's close behind you and you feel his hot breath on your neck as he pulls down the neckline of your top and licks a line along the hollow of your collarbone and back up to your ear, and the drag of his tongue is delicious. he nibbles on your earlobe and the sensation draws an obscene moan from your lips. 

tommy’s close to you, too, his big hands cupping your jaw as he kisses his tongue deep into your mouth, running it along your teeth. his cock is still hanging out from his jeans, thick and hard, and you don't try to disguise the way you stare at it as you look him up and down.

"you've got far too many clothes on, sweetheart," tommy grins, and you pull off your top. before you can unhook your bra, joel's already unfastened it and is helping you pull it off.

tommy drops to his knees now, licking and sucking at your nipples, as joel unbuttons your pants, unzips them, and helps you lift your hips to yank them off of you.

the graze of tommy's teeth against the sensitive flesh of your breast makes you whimper and rut up on joel's thigh, and the brothers both laugh at your desperate noises.

"shit, she's needy, ain't she?" joel teases as he grips your waist with one hand and lets the other drag down to your panties, holding you in place while he starts to rub his fingers along your slit through the damp fabric.

he tugs at the band of your lace panties and ponders for a moment. "you partial to these?" he asks, and you shrug, "not particularly".

"good," joel says. that's all he needs to hear before he's tearing them apart and dropping the tattered fabric aside.

"well now you're just putting on a show," you tease, and he laughs but doesn't disagree. he just strokes a finger along your folds.

"i think you're a girl who likes a show," he tells you as he gathers up a little bit of your slick and slides it along your pussy. "now, what else do you like, darlin'? you want me to play with your lil clit? or just finger fuck you?"

"both," you whine, "any of it. all of it, please-"

he teases a finger into you very gently, just a little press that goes a little deeper each time he pulls it out and presses back in, till you realise he's sinking it in all the way to the hand with each thrust.

right as he adds another finger, to your surprise, tommy drops to his knees. he spreads your thighs wider and looks up for a moment, and you think you can feel joel nod behind you. that's all it takes, and tommy dives in. joel thrusts his fingers into you more urgently as laves kisses on and around your clit. he deepens it, pressing harder, flicking his tongue furiously along your swollen nerve endings and there's enough sensation that you know you won't last long.

"yes, that's it," you cry, and now it's your turn to grab tommy by the hair and press his face right where you need it the most. you're grinding up on his tongue while joel steadily continues to pump his fingers in and out of you, and you know you couldn't be quiet even if you tried.

"fuck," your words sound more like sobs now and you really don't give a shit, "keep going, just like that, joel you can go harder, tommy yes, lick my clit like that, i'm gonna- i'm gonna come-"

"good girl," joel talks you through it, "letting us take care of you like this. you need us to fuck you stupid, don'tcha? you're gonna leave here in the mornin' all stretched open, feeling us deep inside ya for days, huh?"

his filthy words are all you need to teeter over the edge- "fuuuck!" you scream, and you're positively panting now, verging on hysterical. you know joel can feel your pussy clench around him, you're so wet you're worried you've ruined joel's jeans, and you're so overstimulated that you can't speak more than a syllable or two at a time.

"oh you come so pretty," tommy says, pulling away from you to speak. you can see the way his lips are glistening with your slick before he kisses you on your inner thighs, peppering the soft skin with attention.

then, your eyes practically roll back in your head as he dives back in.

joel hasn't stopped fingering you, either, and once tommy's mouth is back on you, joel presses his fingers back into you more deeply again.

"shit, it's too much, i don't think i can take another this quick-" you try to say, but joel shushes you.

"i can already feel it coming," joel tells you, "can feel how your thighs are trembling, how you're already clenching down on me."

you're treading dangerously close to uncomfortably overstimulated, but you're also so completely turned on, you barely care. if you're gonna die in pursuit of a nut, so be it.

"fuck, you're right-" you tell joel, and tommy moans into you letting delicious vibrations pulse through you, and that sends you over the edge again.

you thrust and writhe and rut against them both, and tommy shows you mercy this time, drawing back and letting you get a little relief from the overwhelm of sensation instead of keeping his mouth on you.

you need a moment to catch your breath, and both joel and tommy rub soothing circles into your skin, joel's hands on your hips and tommy's on your thighs, and it feels exquisite.

"that's it, sweetheart, that's it-" joel soothes, and though your breathing's evened out, you know your thighs are still shaking.

tommy's licking up the arousal from between your thighs as if cleaning you off, and he looks up at you with almost dopey, half-lidded eyes, grinning.

"you taste like heaven, honey," he says, and he looks almost as fucked out as you feel. all this from eating pussy, you wonder, and that's another point in the favor of tommy miller being a man who likes to take care of fine things.

"i think i'm gettin' jealous now," joel teases, "i might need a taste, too."

without another word, tommy kisses you deeply and you taste yourself on his tongue. joel tilts your head back to meet him, and he kisses the taste from your mouth, groaning as he does it.

the sounds they're both making are so fucking hot, you love how they emote. there's nothing as unsexy as getting fucked by someone who stays absolutely silent throughout, and hearing them as pathetic as you feel works you up even more.

"what do you need, sweetheart," joel asks, and he's running a finger along your swollen folds now, teasing and torturous.

"you want us to fuck your pussy and your mouth," he asks, and moves to stroke a finger along your cheek, "you wanna have a big cock on either end of ya?"

you shake your head and joel raises his eyebrows.

"tell us what you want, baby," tommy says, and joel drags his fingers back along your pussy before tentatively using his forefinger to circle your asshole.

"please, joel-" you realise you're begging and it draws a laugh from tommy.

"you're a naughty girl, aren't you?" tommy asks, and the way he's grinning tells you that he wouldn't want it any other way.

"wanna feel full of you, both of you-" you whine.

"you gotta tell us, else we won't know what you want," joel says. from his tone of voice, it's clear he knows exactly what you want, but you need to beg for it.

"my pussy. and my ass. wanna ride both of you, feel both of you, get fucked by both of you-"

"jesus christ," tommy moans, "i bet we can make that happen, huh, big brother?"

you turn around to look at joel and his pupils are so blown, his eyes look black.

"bedroom." joel says, and it isn't a request.

tommy scoops you up in his arms and follows joel to his bedroom.

"drop her right here," joel says to tommy, and you're deposited on the edge of the bed, joel kneeling on the floor in front of you.

"looks so pretty for us," tommy says, and he sits down in an armchair near the foot of the bed and starts stroking his aching cock.

you'd been so fucked out already, you almost forgot you'd done almost nothing to take care of them. tommy's cock looks almost red and angry, and joel's is still tucked into his boxers, but the damp spot is spreading and it looks so thick through the fabric.

"let's get you ready for us, sweetheart," joel says, and without any more warning, he hooks his hands under your knees and pulls you up, legs spread, knees hanging over his shoulders. "i'm gonna eat this cute lil asshole, baby," he says and spits on your tight hole before rubbing his thumb gently against it, spreading the saliva.

he teases you with his tongue a little, testing it before pressing it flat and licking along it. you moan, and he growls against you.

you learn very quickly that joel miller is an ass man.

he eats ass like he was made for it, growling into you, spit dripping down his chest as he keeps your legs propped up on his shoulders, your thighs held in place with one arm. you're gasping through your moans and joel is drawing circles around your hole now, popping a finger into his mouth, and tentatively pressing it into the tight ring of muscle. it's fucking animalistic and you don't think anything could possibly make this better, until you notice the moans coming from tommy and the wet sounds of him furiously fisting his cock.

you're already fucked out from your first orgasms that you're practically boneless and limp, totally relaxed in a way you didn't often get. it made the feeling of joel fucking his fingers into you more glorious, building you up in a way you're not used to.

he makes quick (but thorough) work of opening you up, till he's got three fingers in your asshole and tommy's telling you how beautiful you look through his own choked moans, and you think you might lose your mind as you pant and grind and whine and joel isn't saying anything because his mouth is far too busy.

he pulls back and takes a good look at you. with someone else you might feel uncomfortably exposed but instead, you see hunger and desire in the brothers' and you know this is affecting them at least as much as it is you.

"i think we've got ya ready," joel hums, and he turns to look at his brother, "wanna check?" he asks, and tommy stands up and walks over.

you know you feel loose and ready, but the simple act of tommy popping a finger into your mouth to get it wet and then tracing it around your asshole, examining the preparation, drives you insane.

"i think she'll take it good for us," he grins and your heart flutters, "good girl," he says to you.

"you ready for us?" joel asks, and you nod.

"fuck me," you tell them.

joel lowers you down from his shoulders and tommy lays down on the bed before beckoning you.

"giddy up, cowgirl," he says with a wink, and you roll your eyes but take your cue.

you crawl up the bed, straddling his legs and then hovering over his cock which he's holding aloft.

"you good, baby?" he asks softly, and it's incredibly sweet in a way that makes you want to eat him up alive and also get fucked within an inch of your life by him.

"fuckin great," you tell him, and you pull him into a deep kiss before relaxing yourself over his cock, letting the head press into your pussy and sinking down onto it.

"jesus christ," he chokes out, and he sounds so desperate you can't help but fucking down on him, your ass slapping as you, move, his cock pressing so fucking deep into you and then you feel joel approach you from behind his hands gently running over your asscheeks and you know he's feeling the way your flesh bounces as you get off on his brother's cock. then, his hands are off of you, you hear the squirt of a lube bottle, and suddenly joel's thick lubed tip is pressing against you.

you try to thrust backwards towards it, but almost pull off tommy's cock fully, and it's like you're trying to ride both ends of a dick seesaw.

joel notices your frustration, laughing as you writhe.

"patience," he says, and delivers a sharp smack to your ass that thrusts you deeper onto tommy's cock. then, you can feel joel pressing into you, inch by inch.

once his cock head is fully sheathed in your tight ass, you take a moment to breathe before you start to find a rhythm that'll get all of you off at the same time. it takes a moment, and a few adjustments by all three of you, but before you know it, you can feel tommy brushing against your cervix and joel fully fucking into your asshole, practically rearranging your guts. with each rough thrust, they're fucking into you as one.

you're all moaning, gasping for breath. the slapping of skin against skin is delicious, and you're certain joel's balls are smacking against tommy's and you're not sure if it's weird or the hottest thing you've ever experienced.

you feel so full, you feel so fucking full it's perfect, it's delicious, you wanna be split open like this for the rest of time, want to feel two fat cocks using your holes for their pleasure, for your pleasure, because it all just feels so fucking good.

"fuck," tommy says, and it's the first thing any of you have been able to vocalise for a minute, "i'm gonna-"

"come in me," you tell him, cutting him off and he shudders.

that's all he needed before it hits him and he lets out a deep groan and unloads deep into you. it sets off a chain reaction. you come next, clenching around tommy's cock and exploding with a sob, your entire body shaking uncontrollably, and that tips joel over the edge, too as you whine at him, "come in my ass, joel-" and then he makes a strangled noise and you feel his balls tighten and hips stutter and he's unloading in you, pulse after pulse of thick come.

you lay there, tommy beneath you and joel on top of you, their cocks still twitching inside of you. gently, you tap joel's hip and he grunts and rolls over, pulling out of you. you gingerly pull yourself off of tommy, and then immediately collapse between the two of them.

"well, shit," you say, so totally blissed out you're floating on a whole other level.

"jesus christ," tommy says, and then joel starts laughing and it's the best thing you've ever heard.

"you doin' alright, darlin?" joel asks, "we take good care o' ya?"

you nod, consumed with so much euphoria you can't use your words properly.

"good- good joel," you say, "good tommy," you pat them each on the thighs and joel snorts.

tommy pops off the bed for a moment and rummages around in the other room before coming back to ask, "need a hit?"

you nod and he places the joint between your lips and sparks it. you take a deep inhale and slow blink as you sit yourself up and look at both of them.

"let's clean ya up, darlin," joel says, and, as it turns out, tommy brought a washcloth as well as weed. and he had my priorities straight you think.

"if you want me out of your house," you tell them, "you'd better tell me now so i can call a cab. otherwise, i'm gonna pass out here in the next twelve seconds."

"i won't be here in the morning", joel tells you, "got an early shift, but as i recall, tommy's specialty is box pancakes and they sometimes turn out edible."

tommy playfully slaps at his brother, and then kisses your cheek. joel kisses your cheek, too. tommy cleans you up a little, and you fall contentedly asleep between these two beautiful men.

the last thing you think before you drift off is fuck that promotion, it's not such a bad day after all.

#tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #tommy miller #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #tommy miller fanfiction #tommy x joel x reader #tlou fic #tommy miller smut #joel miller smut

[bellaxgiornata]

Safe Haven [Chapter Seventeen]

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.9k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains violence, drug use, domestic abuse, smut, hurt/comfort, angst, mutual pining, friends to lovers

a/n: Finally y'all get the other part of the night after that meeting with Birdy, Frank, and Jimmy! Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @loveroftoomanyfandoms @farfromstrange @rotscinema @1988-fiend @shouldbestudying41 @shiorimakibawrites @norestfortheshelbywicked @mattmurdocksstarlight @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @theetherealbloom @24hflower @mattmurdocksscars @schneeflocky @the-nursery @lionalsowrites @harperdoodle @kmc1989 @danzer8705 @mattys-rat1989 @kezibear

Arms wrapped tight over your chest, you began to make your way down the drive as the bitter wind blew around you. Behind you, you heard the sound of Michael closing Birdy's front door before his heavy footsteps soon caught up with you along the pavement. Your anticipation of an angry outburst from him only rose with each thump of his boots, the hammering of your heart pounding in sync with them. 

“What were ya thinkin’ goin’ out like that alone, Grace?” Michael hissed out between his teeth as he fell in step beside you. “D'ya have any idea how reckless that was? How close ya could've been to gettin’ yourself killed tonight?”

You blew out a rough breath in frustration, your eyes focused on your own feet as you walked. Of course you were aware of how stupid and dangerous it had been for you to meet that Serpent alone, but you hadn't really had another option. And it certainly wasn't like you wanted to go to that meeting, either. 

Glancing over your shoulder, you took in the sight of Michael beside you. Despite the way the tension had eased from his body and the way the fire had mostly left his eyes once he'd gotten away from his family, you could still see the fear and anger lingering in them as the lights from the Garda car parked farther down the street lit him in a wash of blue and red. 

“Of course I damn well know that it was dangerous,” you told him. “But I didn't have a choice. He knows who I am. And not only that, but Birdy was the one to see him leaving the letter to meet him in my sister’s letterbox , Michael. Meaning he knows where both her and I live. What was I supposed to do?” you asked, irritation in your own voice. “Was I just supposed to ignore the letter and put my sister in danger? Because that seemed like the far more reckless and stupid option.”

“No, I wouldn't expect ya to just ignore it,” he snapped back, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. “But ya saw me before ya were headin’ out. Ya should’ve damn well said somethin’ to me! Ya shouldn't have dealt with this alone!” 

“It was my problem to deal with!” you snapped back, keeping your voice low so as not to draw attention from the Garda. “I didn't come to Dublin expecting help with my situation! And I'm sure as shit glad I didn't say anything to you because I'm sure that Serpent would've happily shot you on sight if you'd come with me tonight!”

Michael loosed an irritated grunt at your words as he followed you up your sister’s drive. Her car was parked in front of the house and the sight of it shot a pang of guilt through you. You'd told her you were going out to work at a coffee shop before her shift at the hospital ended, and that had been quite awhile ago now. With everything that had happened tonight, you'd forgotten to let her know that you were alright. She was probably worried about you by now, wondering what coffee shop was open quite this late at night.

“I can take care of myself,” Michael said, his tone sharp. “It isn't your job to look out for me.”

Your teeth grit together as your hand dug into your pants pocket, feeling for the key to Megan's house as the pair of you approached the front door. As much as you'd felt safe with Michael lately, your situation wasn't his to take on. Especially with what he already had going on with his family and his health. You weren't going to dump your problems onto him, too.

“Well it isn't your job to look out for me, either,” you shot back. “I'd been doing just–just fine on my own for years, Michael. I don't need you or your family risking your lives for me.” Your hand shook as you inserted the key into the lock, intentionally keeping your focus away from him. “I don't need anymore people’s lives weighing on my conscience.”

You twisted the door handle with more roughness than necessary, pushing the door open and eager for a chance to get away from Michael’s wrath for the night. You just wanted to end this shitty day already, but his hand darted out and grabbed you by the wrist, halting you in place on the front step. Your head turned sharply in his direction, prepared to tell him to leave you alone tonight, but the unexpected softness on his face immediately gave you pause. 

“Grace, I–”

“Oh my God ,” Megan's voice rang through the house, cutting Michael clean off. “You've been gone for hours! Where the hell have you been? I was starting to get–”

Megan appeared around the corner from the kitchen and immediately stopped dead in her tracks when she saw you. Her eyes darted from you to Michael and then straight to the bandage on your forehead. Her mouth fell open as her eyes grew wide.

“What the hell happened?” she asked you. Her panicked gaze shifted to Michael before you could even answer as she roughly demanded, “What the hell happened to her? Why is she coming home with a bandage?”

“Nothing to worry yourself about,” you grumbled as you stepped into the house, slipping loose from Michael’s grasp before you began to take off your boots. “So leave him out of it.”

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Megan’s face contort into something stern as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her hardened stare fixed on Michael as he stepped inside the house a moment later, closing the door softly behind himself. Inwardly you braced yourself for another outburst–this time from your sister. 

“Like hell I'm leaving him out of this!” she exclaimed, throwing a hand in his direction. “I’m not stupid, Grace. I know you weren’t at a coffee shop writing tonight. You don’t even have your laptop with you! And then you come home late with a bandage on your forehead that I damn well know wasn’t there the last time I saw you! So what the hell is going on? How’d you get hurt? And one of you better fucking answer me with the damn truth!”

“A low ranking Serpent discovered who I actually am,” you said with a sigh, pulling your last boot off of your foot. “He left a message for me to meet with him tonight in the letterbox. Birdy saw him. I didn’t exactly have a choice to not go considering what he already knew. I didn't want to worry or involve you which is why I said I’d be at the coffee shop.”

Megan immediately sucked in a sharp breath, her entire body freezing. For a moment the only sound was Michael behind you, slowly taking his own boots off. Apparently he wasn’t done reprimanding you for the evening.

“So does that mean you need to leave again? Find somewhere new to hide?” she breathed out, her body still stiff. “Is he telling the entire charter? Is Victor on his way?”

You shook your head, running a tired hand along your forehead, careful to avoid the wounded side of it. Everything was finally beginning to catch up to you from today, your body starting to feel completely exhausted from all the stress and fear. You just wanted to collapse on your bed and maybe–if you were lucky–fall into a dreamless sleep where you could forget about absolutely everything for just a short while.

“I’m not leaving, not just yet,” you assured her, brushing past her and making your way down the hall to the sitting room. “He’s after something else and he’s just trying to threaten me with calling in Victor for now.”

“And is that supposed to make me feel any better?” she asked, following closely on your heels. “What could he possibly want from you?”

You sunk into the cushions of the sofa, your body aching as you did. As your attention shifted towards your sister, you spotted Michael entering the room just over her shoulder. He leant against the doorframe to the sitting room, hanging his head almost shamefully as he stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets.

“Me,” Michael muttered. “He wants me.”

Megan’s brows arched up onto her forehead in surprise, her head turning over her shoulder to focus on Michael curiously. 

“I can’t give ya any details–family business and all,” he explained, his voice quiet. “But he’s after me. It’s my fault he’s after your sister, that he even knows who she is.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you shook your head. “No, that’s not true,” you disagreed. “He’s after me because of my psychotic ex. This has nothing to do with you.”

Michael’s head rose, his sad eyes meeting yours from across the room. The frustration you’d felt towards him a few minutes ago quickly dissipated at the sight of the pain visible on his face.

“But he was the one tailin’ us after I took ya out for coffee, wasn’t he? That’s how he found out ‘bout ya, isn’t it?” Michael pressed. “He was after me and found ya in the process. So it's my fault he knows who ya really are.”

You pulled a face immediately, your mouth opening to counter his argument. But Megan held out her hands, the gesture quieting both of you.

“Let's not turn this into a battle of who's to blame,” she said, turning her focus back on you. “So the problem stands that someone in the nearby charter knows you’re Victor’s ex and that you’re here. What the hell is being done about that? Because I’m guessing you’re not about to give up your boyfriend to the MC.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you corrected her, your cheeks heating as you avoided Michael’s stare. “And yes, something is being figured out. Like I said, you don’t need to worry about anything right now. I’ll handle it, okay? But honestly after tonight, all I want to do is go to sleep. I’m fucking tired and I just…don’t want to think anymore. It’s late.”

“Fine,” Megan relented. “But are you okay?”

“Yes,” you assured her.

Megan’s eyes narrowed at you before she turned, focusing on Michael across the room. She threw a thumb in your direction and you rolled your eyes when she spoke.

“Is she really alright?” she asked him.

“Took a good hit to the head with the butt of a gun,” he told her, pausing when Megan let out a hiss. “But I think she’s alrigh’ despite that. Though I…was plannin’ on offerin’ to stay the night here if ya didn’t mind, Megan. Sleep on the sofa down here just to make sure that Serpent doesn’t show back up in the middle of the night or anythin’.” A sheepish smile crossed his lips as he added quietly, “I’d feel better knowin’ ya weren’t both here alone.”

“You know, I’d probably actually feel better if you stayed here too after finding all this out,” Megan told him. “So it’s fine by me. I can try to find some more comfortable pillows–”

“What’s there is already fine,” he assured her. “I don’t need anythin’ more, really.”

“Okay, well,” Megan began awkwardly, her eyes darting between you and Michael as she took a step back towards the staircase. “I’ll just go get ready for bed now that you’re finally home safe. I’ve got another early shift in the morning tomorrow.”

Michael nodded his head, smiling at her and murmuring a soft ‘goodnight.’ You watched as your sister made her way quietly up the stairs, shooting you a curious last glance over her shoulder before she disappeared from sight. And then it was just you and Michael in the room.

A silence fell over the pair of you as he remained standing over by the sitting room entrance. Your gaze fell to your hands nervously fidgeting in your lap, aware of the weight of the gun in your jacket pocket once again. Most likely in a few days you’d have to use it. And you certainly hoped you could, when the time came for it.

“I think I’m just going to head to bed,” you eventually said, breaking the silence when it started to feel suffocating. 

“Alrigh’,” Michael replied softly.

For the second time this evening you felt your stomach sink to your feet as you rose from the sofa. You were certain you’d somehow gone and messed things up with Michael when you’d lied to him about where you were going earlier and he’d found out. He'd certainly seemed pissed at you for that.

But maybe that’s for the best, you told yourself as you made your way up the stairs. Maybe I shouldn’t get attached. If I need to run again soon, feelings would just make that harder.

Gasping for air, you woke up with a cold sheen of sweat covering your skin. Your eyes flew around the mostly darkened bedroom as you tried to orient yourself while your heart thundered away in your chest. Fear spiking within you at the lingering memory of his voice in your ear, you swore you could feel the cold blade of a knife pressed to your stomach. 

Feeling like the bedsheets themselves were trying to hold you down, you began wildly flailing in an attempt to throw them off of you, swinging your arms and feet as you tried to free yourself. A few tears slipped out of your eyes as you did, your panicked mind still replaying threats on repeat.

It was a few moments before you’d finally untangled yourself from the sheets, scrambling backwards against the headboard and sitting upright. Your chest was heaving as you tried to catch your breath, the back of your hand running along your sweat-dampened forehead gently.

“Just a nightmare,” you whispered to yourself. “Not real. He’s not here.”

But he’s looking for you. And this time he’s probably going to do more than add another scar if he finds you.

Bottom lip rolling between your teeth, your right hand reached down, sliding the hem of your shirt upwards a little. You lightly brushed your fingertips over the three gashes on your abdomen that had scarred over. A brand to your skin that you’d never be able to remove, permanently marking you as his . A strangled noise slipped out of you and you clamped your teeth down harder, trying to quiet the sound.

“Grace?”

You audibly gasped as your head spun towards the sound of your name, your pulse speeding at the fear of an intruder. But in the faint light filtering in past your curtains, you could make out the sight of Michael standing halfway in the doorway, a look of concern etched across his features.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle ya,” he whispered. “Just thought I heard somethin’ from downstairs and I figured I’d make sure things were alright’.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered, quickly lowering your shirt. “Just had a bad dream but I’m fine.”

The bedroom door swung open just a bit wider and you watched as Michael stepped slowly into the bedroom. The corners of your lips curved downwards as you continued to try to calm your breathing. If he was up here to lecture you again, you certainly weren’t interested in hearing it.

“D’ya wanna talk ‘bout it?” he offered. 

“No,” you answered simply.

Michael nodded, taking another hesitant step into the bedroom and closing the door partially behind himself as he did. His other hand ran over the back of his neck as he ducked his head. You watched him wordlessly, drawing your legs up towards your chest.

“‘M’sorry ‘bout the way I went off on ya earlier,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have done that. Ya were scared and tryin’ to do what ya thought was right. But ya…ya scared me, if I’m bein’ honest.”

Your tongue darted out, licking your lips nervously. That was not what you’d expected to hear him say after the way things had played out earlier. 

“If somethin’ had happened to ya–especially because o’ me–I don't think I could forgive myself,” he murmured, shifting back and forth on his feet as he focused on the bedroom floor. 

“I told you already, it wasn't your fault,” you replied.

“Except it is,” he stated firmly, glancing up at you through the darkness. “That Serpent is lookin’ for a way to get to me. To kill me . And unfortunately you're gettin’ dragged into all my shit because of the things I did. And I can't forgive myself for that.” 

You hugged your arms around your knees, guilt flooding you as you pulled them tighter to your chest. You realized that he had probably reacted the way he had tonight because of the accident which had resulted in his ex-wife's passing. Something he didn't know you knew about yet. It made sense then why he was so determined to protect you, and why he refused to let you be the one to take the risk killing the Serpent. He didn’t want your death on his conscience, either. Because it was apparent he'd find a way to blame himself for it no matter what. 

“How about we both agree this mess is a combination of both of our problems?” you suggested quietly. 

“I would, but the difference is that I actually did things to deserve to be in this mess,” Michael told you. “Whereas ya didn't do anythin’ to deserve the fuckin’ shitty situation your ex has put ya in.”

“Okay,” you said, shooting him a sad smile, “I think I agree with what Megan said earlier. Let's not play the blame game. Pointing fingers at ourselves won't change the situation anyway.”

“Mmm,” Michael hummed. “I s'pose ya got a point.”

Another silence fell between the pair of you, though this one was vastly less uncomfortable than the previous one in the sitting room. You chewed your lip nervously as Michael stood beside your bed, his eyes clearly focused on you through the dark. His presence was beginning to soothe you the longer he stayed and you soon found yourself not wanting him to go back downstairs. Especially not after that nightmare. Despite your better judgment, you found yourself wanting to ask for what you really wanted for once. 

“Can I…ask you a favor?” you whispered. 

“Always,” Michael replied immediately. 

Eyes falling down towards the bed, one of your hands dropped down to your side. Nervously your fingers fidgeted with the sheets, twisting them as you tried to find the courage to ask him to stay here with you. Part of you knew it was safer and smarter to stop letting him get closer to you, especially with danger already looming on the horizon. But the other part of you craved the comfort he always somehow managed to bring you, something you hadn't felt in a long time. 

“Could you maybe…stay with me?” you asked, shyly looking back up at him. “Just for tonight?”

“O’course,” he answered. “I'm here whenever ya need me.”

Michael made his way around the foot of the bed, your eyes following his form through the darkness as he did. You saw him pull something out of the waistband at the back of his jeans, realizing a moment later it was the gun he'd had earlier. He set it onto the nightstand before he turned, adjusting the rumpled mess you'd made of the sheets on the bed and pulling them back up before he climbed onto the mattress himself. 

You began to slide back down along the headboard, rolling onto your side towards him and slipping back beneath the sheets. As he settled onto the mattress next to you, he turned onto his side, facing you in return. A bit of moonlight crept in just around the edge of your curtains, a thin ray of it illuminating part of his face in all the blackness. The corners of his lips were curved upwards just the faintest bit.

“Didn't think ya would want me with ya tonight,” Michael murmured.

Your stomach fluttered at his words and the position you'd found yourself in with him. Both of you were barely half a foot apart from each other now, eyes locked on one another. You could feel the warmth of his body radiating off of him and heating you beneath the sheets. Your hand clutched tighter to your pillow as you fought the urge to wrap it around him and pull yourself closer to him instead, desperate for connection.

“You make me feel safe,” you confessed, the words falling out of your mouth before you could stop them. “And less alone. For the first time in a long time.”

Gradually Michael’s hand slipped up out of the sheets, reaching out towards you and gently landing on your cheek. His fingertips lightly brushed away a few strands of hair before they affectionately began to lightly stroke your skin. You could feel your heart beating harder in your chest under his touch, the sound of it loud to your own ears. Your skin was beginning to heat beneath his fingers and your own only curled tighter around your pillowcase.

“Ya do the same for me, pet,” he whispered back.

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. You hadn't expected him to tell you that. You also hadn't expected it to feel so good to hear him tell you that, either.

Michael shifted on the bed, sliding closer to you as his palm cradled your cheek. Your eyelids fluttered shut the moment you felt his soft lips press a lingering kiss to your forehead. A warm, pleasant sensation felt like it was racing up your spine the longer his mouth remained pressed against your forehead. It was a feeling that felt a lot like safety and acceptance.

Without thinking, your hand released the pillow and darted out, wrapping its way around Michael as your fingers clutched at his back. You drew your body in tight against his, raising your head from the pillow as you did. Michael’s lips faltered along your forehead at the movement, but you quickly caught his lips with yours in his brief surprise.

He didn’t pull away or hesitate. Instead, his own mouth molded itself to yours, his hand sliding its way down your cheek and resting along your neck, pulling you in closer to him to deepen the kiss. He kissed you back with such intensity that your fingers fisted his shirt in your grasp, your mind going blank to everything except how good this moment felt. How good he made you feel.

But unfortunately the kiss ended far sooner than you'd have liked.

Michael pulled away only a fraction from you, the tip of his nose affectionately brushing the tip of yours. You could just make out the little smile on his lips in the dark, the sight almost leaving you as breathless as that kiss had.

“For what it's worth,” he whispered, thumb caressing the line of your jaw tenderly, “I'm glad ya found yourself here in Dublin.”

Your hand released the tight grip on his shirt, sliding its way up from out of the sheets and up towards his face. Your own fingertips gently toyed with the dark hairs of his beard, your eyes watching the smile on his face grow wider, his eyes crinkling at the corners. What you wouldn’t give to always see him smile like that. 

“I'm glad I found you,” you whispered back. 

For however long I can have you.

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella angst #michael kinsella fluff #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella #kin bbc

[taylormarieee]

Crybaby JJ Maybank

Summary: Based on this lovely post by @princessbrunette creds to her for the inspo!

Word Count: 734

Pairing: Toxic!JJ x Fem!Crybaby!Reader

Warnings: Dom!JJ, Toxic!JJ, Jealous!JJ, Crybaby!Reader, JJ beating up some guy at a party, Reader being slightly angry, suggestive ending, honestly don't know if this is kinda toxic jj but hope y'all enjoy!

You were at a party that the pogues usually plan. The party's are alway killer and extremely fun. Kooks are here and other pougues from the island.

Sometimes even tourist come along to see what the hype is about. You were standing with John B handing out Keg drinks aka beer with a hint of wine for the prissy kooks.

"Take it or leave it Kook." You said staring at Topper with annoyance written all over your face. He grabs the cup from you and splashes a bit of beer on your dress. You flip him off and shout at him. You turn to get a napkin and you hear John B snicker next to you.

"What? It's not funny you asshole!" you say hitting John B playfully on the arm.

"Not gonna lie it's kinda funny." he says. You glare at him and he just laughs it off. "Ok it was a little funny." he says.

You pout at him before walking off. Your wandering around to find JJ when you see a friend of your from school that's in one of your classes.

"Justin? Heyyy! How are you?!" You yell at him over the music while running up to him to give him a hug. You don't have a lot of traction to run considering your on sand but you make it to him anyway.

You and Justin catch up for almost the entire night that you forgot that you were looking for JJ. What you don't notice is how JJ is staring at you from afar.

Laughing with the boy, hands resting on his arm for a couple seconds too long, even leaning into him a bit because your a little tipsy.

He's had enough when the guy wraps his arm around you. He storms over to Justin and grabs him by his collar.

"What ya doin' touching my girl hmm? My girl!" He yells before decking the guy right in his jaw.

"JJ! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!" You yell at him trying to pull JJ off of Justin.

"Leave him alone JJ! Justin are you ok?!" You yell once you successfully get him off of Justin and lift Justin up as well. You hand Justin over to someone much stronger than you and storm over to JJ.

"What the hell was that huh?" You yell at him. He grabs your arm and pulls you closer. "Your mine. Only mine. I don't think you understand the fucking meaning of you. are. mine." He enunciates.

Your eyes get teary as his grp on your arm start to hurt a bit. "I don't want you around other men that aren't Pope or John B... do you understand princess?" He says stern;y.

You shake your head yes but want to explain to him that he's just a friend. "But Jay.. he's just a friend from school! It's not that s-serious." You blab out as tears start to run down your face."

"You think I give a fuck about your tears baby. You hurt me. Makin me think you don't want me anymore, so you go and fuck around with other guys hmm? That's what we're doing now?" He says angrily.

Your full on crying now. Upset about what happened and then upset about making JJ feel that way.

"I-I'm sorry jay jay... i'll m-make it up to you I promise.. It's just he's my friend! W-Why did you have to hit him. He's my friend from school! Now he'll never talk to m-me again." You voice to him sadly.

He rolls his eyes as he clenches his jaw, 'What part of "your not allowed to have any guy friends" does this girl not understand' He thinks.

You sniffle and wipe your tears away. He lets your arm go and places his hand on the small of your back. "Mama... No more male friends, got it. Only Pope and John B ok? Do you understand me?" He says in the softest voice he can muster up as he is still fuming with anger.

"Mhm... yes.. I understand jj. Lemme make it up to y-you." You say still slightly sniffiling.

"Yea? Gonna make it up to papa J? such a good girl you little crybaby." He says.

It makes you pout but you follow him towards the car where your going to make it up to him. You owe him after all.

Taglist: @dustbunniess @princessbrunette and anyone else who wants to join!

#jj maybank x reader #my man <3 #jj maybank #jjmaybank #outer banks jj #jj obx #toxic jj #toxic jj x reader #Jj x reader drabble

[starfirewildheart]

Scars and Souvenirs 

Chapter 11

Summary: Sy and his lady both retire from the army but not before tragedy befalls Sy. He slowly tries to adjust to life again on their ranch.

Pairing: Sy / OFC

Word count: 2,869

Rating: mentions of war; being a POW, death and animal abuse. Nothing graphic I promise but if the fic continues (if y'all like it) I'll add warnings for each chapter. All mistakes are mine, sorry.

Scars and Souvenirs 

Chapter 11

(It's still the start to mid December and not Christmas yet.  I apologize but rl took over and I didn't have time to write  Sy and Debbie's holidays! Thanks for being patient and I hope you're still reading!)

Debbie was flitting around the kitchen baking cookies and preparing to make candies. Today was the day! Mike was coming to stay with them today. The judge decided that while the investigation of Mike's father was underway that Mike should be housed somewhere else and since Deb and Sy were going to put him to work on the ranch they would also take temporary guardianship of him. Just as she was taking a tray of cookies out of the oven and placing the pan on a cooling rack she heard them come. She nervously wiped her hands on a dish towel.

“Smells amazing in here sugar.” Sy gave her a kiss and wrapped an arm around her waist. He reached over and snatched a still hot cookie off the pan and took a bite.”Mmmmm, perfect!” He licked his lips. 

Deb swatted his arm, “they aren't finished!” She smiled over at Mike and handed him one of the cookies. “There is a damaged cookie pile for sampling,” She winked.

“ Thanks,” Mile grinned then took a bite. The sugary cookie just melted in his mouth.  It was the best cookie he'd ever had. “ It's good, thanks.” Mike was still unsure of exactly what was happening to him. No one had ever helped him  before and he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Did Sy give ya the tour of the stable and horses?”

“Yea,” he nodded. “It's sad that the animals were so abused.”

“People suck,” She nodded then paused, “most people I mean. Some people are nice.” She fidgeted for a moment and Sy laughed then leaned in and kissed her head.

“She says what she thinks,” he winked at Mike who grinned.

“So,” Deb bit her lip. “Would you like to put your stuff in your room?”

“I'm doing time. Am I not sleeping in the stable with the horses?” Mike sighed. “This is punishment,  right?”

Deb approached him and put her arm around his shoulders leading him towards his room, Sy grabbed Mike's bag as he followed. “Yes and no. This is your punishment for things that you did; however, this isn't jail.”

Mike looked around the bedroom they led him to. It was much bigger than the one at home and sparkling clean. It was plain, light grey walls, white borders, two bi windows with deep blue curtains and a matching comforter on the twin bed.

Sy and Deb leaned back against the dresser. “ There are rules here that will be followed or the court will take you straight to juvi,” Sy explained as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

“We get up early. We work hard all day no matter what the weather. It's hard, it's smelly but it's rewarding. We want to make the rules clear,  no surprises and be open and up front about our expectations,” Sy explained. 

Mike braced himself for what was coming. This was going to suck and he knew it. Things never worked out well for him. At least he would know what was expected of him and not be set up for failure just guessing at what they would want. “Ok.”

“Rule number one,” Deb said, “Know that you are safe here and you can talk to us about anything. “

“Rule number two,” Sy continued, “If you need anything,  tell us. We are not here to hurt you.”

Mike shifted uncomfortably and chewed on his lip. What was this? What were they trying to do? He crossed his arms and just listened. 

“Rule three,” Deb added “We expect you to do what we ask. It's hard work but you will always be safe. We will teach you everything we want you to do.”

“Rule four,” Sy said, “You will not leave the farm without us and we need to know where you are at all times.”

“Rule five,” Deb continued, “You keep all your meetings with the case worker and we join you at those meetings because right now we are actively your guardians.” She pushed away from the dresser and moved toward the door. “These aren't rules but,” She looked at Sy nervously.  “I know the room is plain because I'd like you to make it your own. Decorate it, put up posters, we can even go shopping and get you lamps and bedding you like. We are going to be working on cookies and candy most of the night and we would love it if you would join us.” She put her hand on his shoulder for a moment before going back to the kitchen.

“Take the time you need to settle, put your stuff away and acclimate to your surroundings. When you're settled you know where we'll be,” Sy nodded and left the room.

What the fuck was happening? People weren't this kind, never to him. This had to be some sort of set up, right? Who were these people?

~~~~♡~~~~

Debbie laughed as she swatted Sy's arm. “You are gonna make yourself sick like that.”

Sy, very unapologetically, licked the spoon full of frosting again. He'd confiscated the remainder of the large mixing bowl as soon as she had separated most of it into smaller bowls for coloring. He wasted no time samplithisng a spoon of the sugary mix and his eyes rolled back as he moaned with pleasure. “Why haven't you made  before?”

She stirred gel colors into the smaller bowls. “Well between the desert, then rehab and going straight into building this ranch we never really had time to play house,” She shrugged. “Thought it was now or never.”

He frowned at her, pausing with the spoon midway between the bowl and his mouth dripping more into his beard. “Now or never?”

Mike walked into the kitchen having decided to try to make the best of this situation.  He could hate them until he found out what kind of people they were, right? “So What ca….” He paused mid sentence and blinked at Sy. The man had white, frothy stuff all in his beard around his mouth. “Rabid bear,” he thought and apparently said out loud.

Debbie laughed but the more she looked at the frosting on Sy's face the more she lost it. She had tears in her eyes and giggle snorted pointing at her perplexed boyfriend.  “Porn star,” was all she managed before erupting into another fit.

Sy arched his brow thinking she had totally lost it as he looked between her and the frosting. What she was laughing at finally hit him.  The white frosting looked like cum all over his beard. “Oh funny,” he smirked at her. Moving quick as a flash he had her arms pinned to her sides with one of his around her waist. Taking the spoon out of the bowl he smeared it on her face as she struggled to get free.

“Austin Lee Syverson don't you .. You brat!” She huffed through her giggles. 

“What? I just wanted us to match.” He acted innocent but his burgeoning erection against her ass said anything but.

She turned her head toward him, kissing his cheek, smearing more icing on him before squirming free and getting some paper towels to wipe her face. “As you can see Sy has issues behaving,” She winked at Mike, who was trying really hard not to laugh and failing.

She took the spoon outta Sy's hand again and smeared some on Mike's cheek. “Now you match, “ She beamed. “Would you like to work on baking cookies, decorating cookies or making candy?”

Mike blinked and stepped back when he got icing-ed but laughed when Sy laughed and shook his head. “I…I'm not sure I would be good at any of it. I don't want to mess anything up.”

“Like you could make more of a mess than my grown-ass toddler? It's not about being perfect or even good at it, it's about having fun! We aren't on a baking competition to be judged. If it tastes bad we'll just make you eat it all,” She smirked and hugged an arm around Mike’s shoulders. I have some more drop cookies ready to bake. You and Sy working together can get through those and some crackle cookies while I work on these and we can move on to candy together.”  She set up what they needed and gave them directions on what to do. 

Sy and Mike worked well together talking and laughing easily. Sy fell into that leadership role like he'd never left it. He was firm, informative and fair to his men in Special Forces and was made to lead and help. It made Deb all tingly watching him in control.

 

They moved through the cookies quickly, both Mike and Sy eating several and soon getting a sugar rush. They were both laughing and zooming around talking about how good the sugar cookies Deb decorated looked. 

They, mostly Debbie with assists from Sy and Mike, made two types of fudge, chocolate covered pretzels, divinity, buckeyes, and truffles.  They even made cookie and yogurt treats for Aika. Conversation was easy and they moved fluidly like they knew what the other needed and it was shocking because they were strangers to each other but it felt like they'd known each other for a lifetime.  

The trio worked through lunch though the boys were stuffing themselves with cookies and candy.

“I don't know about you fellas but I'm tired after all of that,” Deb sighed as she closed the dishwasher and started it. Cleaning up was the worst part but they got it done. “I am desperately in need of a shower but afterward how about we order some pizza and watch movies tonight?”

“Sounds perfect to me,” Sy nodded.

“Sure,” Mike nodded. “I need a shower too.”

“When we were in Iraq we had to shower outside with cold water, which you would think is good in the desert right? But not at night when it's freezing cold. So… when we designed this house we agreed we would get a tankless hot water heater which means you can shower in your bathroom while I shower in the master.”

He was impressed having never heard of it but hot water was awesome. Sometimes his old man didn't even pay the utilities so he could buy more whiskey. Something she said just dawned on him. “Wait, I have my own bathroom?”

“You didn't explore your room?” She asked. 

Sy led Mike back to his room and opened the door near the foot of the bed. “I thought it was a closet,” Mike said as he stepped inside. It wasn't huge but it was still bigger than the one at home. 

“Closet is to the left kid,” Sy pointed. “You towels and washcloths are here as well as extra toilet paper,” he pointed to the things in the linen closet. “Over here,” he opened the medicine cabinet over the sink, “There is a new toothbrush if you need it as well as toothpaste. Mouthwash is here and I wasn't sure about shaving supplies but we can pick up what you need when we head into town if you want. I put the shower gel and shampoo I use in this shower for you but we can get the type you like in town too.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“We left you to explore your room but you didn't seem to get very far?” Sy explained. 

“No,” Mike shook his head. “Why are you being so nice to me? In juvi or foster places I'm just given the basic lice scrub down a bed and enough food to survive. Here I'm being treated like a..” he was searching for the word.

“Kid? A human and not a prisoner?”

“Yea,” Mike said softly.

“When Debbie met you she saw something in you. We asked about your case and your priors and she said we needed to help you.”

“You agree or do you just always do what she tells you too?”

Sy crossed his arms over his chest. “I'll be honest, the jury is still out for me. It’s a fifty-fifty chance for me. I think there's a chance you're a punk who has his old man's disdain for the law and feels untouchable because of it  or you're just a kid who was dealt a shit life with a shit father trying to survive the best way you can. I'm willing to get to know you to find out which one you are. I'll give you my trust and respect until you give me a reason not to. You keep acting like you are now, you keep getting treated Ike this. You fuck up you get to meet Captain Syverson and we start doing this military style. You prove to me that you don't want to be here or you hurt her in any way. I'll personally deliver you back to a jail cell and let the system take over.”

Mike took a moment to process what Sy said. Part of it pissed him off. How could anyone think he was like his father? He despised that man and was ashamed that people even knew they were related but Sy really didn't know him and had no way of knowing that. It was fair for Sy to want him to prove who he was, he couldn't fault him for that. “Fair enough,” he looked Sy in the eye and nodded.

Sy grinned and patted him on the shoulder then headed to his and Debbie's bathroom.

Deb was just finishing up with her shower when she heard the bathroom door open and close. “Everything ok?”

“Yea, just showed him where stuff was and talked a bit. He had questions about why we were being good to him.”

She smiled when she felt his arms wrap around her waist as she finished rinsing her hair. “Hi,” She grinned, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Hi,” he rumbled as he nipped at her neck. 

She turned them so that he was under the spray and started washing him by scrubbing the stiff sugar out of his beard, chuckling as he moaned when she scrubbed with her nails. “Is my bear gonna start purring?”

“I don't purr, I rumble,” he insisted though his voice sounded serene.

“Mmmmhumm,” She nodded and continued to wash his body dropping to her knees to scrub his thick thighs. When she looked up at him his blue eyes were full of pure lust. His big hand cupped the back of her head as she leaned forward and pressed soft kisses along his hard shaft. Using her hand to stroke him she carefully worked his balls in her mouth knowing how much it drove him wild.

“Fuck,” he rasped as he fisted her hair. “Keep that up and this will be over quick sugar. 

She worked him with her hand as she slipped away from his balls letting them leave her mouth with a soft pop then lucked a stripe all the way up his cock. She pulled the foreskin back and licked and sucked the head then sucked him as deep into her throat as she could bobbing her head as she licked and sucked until his thighs were trembling, his moans were a litany of curses and his balls were tightening. With a wicked gleam in her eyes she soaped up her hand and reached up to cup his balls but instead rubbed across his puckered hole and slipped her finger in deep. He squeaked and clinched around her finger but before he could say anything she was pressing on his prostate causing an electrical storm of pleasure to roll through his entire body.

“Fuck Debbie, fuck, fuck, fuck!” He whined as his entire body trembled. He was caught between her hot mouth on his cock and that wicked finger touching his prostate and it was a vortex of pleasure. His entire body tinged and rolled as the orgasm ripped through him and he blew his load in her mouth pumping wave after wave of cum as she worked him through it only stopping when his moans turned to soft whines from over stimulation.  

Debbie smiled as she held him to her chest rocking him as they sat on the bench seat gently rubbing his face as he came down from his Endorphin high after washing her hand. “Hi there,” She smiled as he looked up at her with glazed eyes.

“Hi,” he leaned in to kiss her and his hand slipped between her legs. 

She gently moved his hand and kissed his pouty lips. “I want you so bad darlin but we have a kid waiting on us. Tonight? Please?”

He pressed another kiss to her lips and nodded. “I don't like this part. I want to be able to fuck you when and where ever I want to,” he growled. 

She shivered as she leaned against him. At least he still wanted her. Maybe things weren't as bad as she'd thought.

Tag List

@shellyshellshell

@enchantedbytomandhenry

@mrsevans90

@summersong69

@mollymal

@warriormirkwood

@bloodyinspiredme

@kneelforloki

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #syverson fluff #syverson x you #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill smut #captain syverson fanfiction #henry cavill characters #syverson

[julienbakerpls]

save a horse, ride a cowgirl 18+

Julien Baker/Reader

"Alright that's a wrap on the Alternative Press boygenius cover!" the creative director called out, it was incredibly hot but you were getting even hotter. You hadn't expected the cowboy theme at all and you certainly weren't prepared for the effect it would have on you. Specifically Julien in a cowboy hat, thinking back you don't think in all of your time as a couple that you'd seen her wear one.

"Hey Punk, what do you think?" Julien said laughing as she posed in the hat.

"I think you should keep it, and definitely wear it, like a lot." You said, blushing up at her from where you were sitting. You watched as she let that perfect goofy smile spread across her face.

"Oh yeah, this whole look kinda doing it for you?" She said coming to stand between your legs, kneeling to place her hands on your thighs squeezing them gently.

"Jay... you have no idea." You spoke softly, pushing the hat lower on her head to shield her face from the sun more. She blushed as a smirk slid across her face.

"You know... they did say we could keep whatever we wanted from wardrobe. Can you think of any use we could get out of it?" She said, fighting the laugh that was already dancing in her eyes.

"I mean... I could think of one or two different... positions." You said, leaning up and biting her bottom lip playfully.

"Fuck... Baby, is one of them maybe you sitting on my face." She said into your neck pulling you even closer. Julien wanted so badly for you to sit on her face but to be honest it scared you thinking of how easily she could suffocate.

"Princess, I know that look you WILL not suffocate me.... and if you do... i'll die doing what and who I love most." She said, placing a tender kiss to your neck.

"Julien..." You whined, looking into her big brown eyes, eyes that she knew how to use to her advantage.

"Okay we'll try it." You sighed, knowing if you were ever truly uncomfortable with anything she would drop it immediately. You watched her adorable puppy pout turn into the big goofy grin you love so much.

"I can't wait for you to ride my face, Princess." Julien said, pulling you up from your sitting position and licking her way into your mouth. The kiss was a heated mess of tongues and teeth and you were already feeling it between your thighs.

"Are we leaving now, or do you still have stuff you need to do with the boys?" You ask, pulling away from her. She smiled up at you kissing your neck, where she could reach.

"We're all set." She tugged you forward to follow after her, making her way over to where Phoebe and Lucy were still dressed as cowboys.

"So are we all keeping the hats?" Lucy asked, looking from Julien to Phoebe.

"Of course, think of all the places I can wear this!" Phoebe laughed.

"Okay we're heading out, i'll see y'all tomorrow at rehearsal." Julien said, Kissing both Phoebe and Lucy goodbye.

"Okay love you." Lucy said, also adding a wave to you, so you'd know you were included in it.

"Love ya!" Phoebe called, diving directly into another topic of conversation with Lucy.

"I love you both!" Julien called back to them.

-

The car ride to your house was filled with Julien humming along to the radio, one hand on the steering wheel the other rubbing your thigh. She was practically vibrating with excitement over the prospect of you sitting on her face. She pulled in to the driveway, reaching over to unbuckle your seatbelt for you, placing a kiss to your neck.

"Do you want takeout tonight?" you asked to fill the already heated silence. Julien laughed, raising her eyebrows at you.

"Baby, I think we both know that I don't care as long as I get to ea-" You cut her off by placing a kiss to her lips, climbing out of the car.

"You've been spending way too much unsupervised time with Phoebe!" You laughed, going to the drivers side of the car and opening her door. She also climbed out, smiling sheepishly at you.

"I also thought of something else cheesy to say but I figured it might be too much." She smiled up at you leaning her back against the car. Her face flushing with pink.

"And what was it." You asked pressing her more firmly to the car with your body.

"Save a horse.... ride a cowgirl." She grinned up at you, still wearing the hat and winking. You couldn't help the blush that spread across your face.

"Have I told you how much I love you today?" You asked, kissing her sweetly on the lips. She smiled into the kiss, pulling away slightly to mumble something incoherent against your lips. You pressed your leg between hers, adding pressure. Julien arches up into you, moaning into your mouth. You feel her start to grind her hips down onto your leg with more intensity.

You pull away from her lips and start pressing kisses into her neck, grabbing onto her hips helping her movements.

"Mmhmm fuck.... Baby.." She moans throwing her head back. Pressing kisses down onto her shoulder before biting it, you feel her hips jerk with the pleasure you knew it would bring her.

"Shit... I am NOT going to cum in the fucking driveway!" Julien laughs, throwing herself clumsily off of you. You laugh with her, chasing her up the stairs to the front door. You catch her right as she opens the door, and press her against the now closed and securely locked front door.

"How do you feel about cuming in the entry way?" You say kissing her again.

"A lot better now that we're not risking public indecency." She answers chasing your lips. You smile unbuckling her jeans, as she kicks off her boots. After pulling off her jeans along with her boxers, you press one more kiss to her lips. Lowering yourself to your knees you pull one of her legs over your shoulder, forcing her to lean against the door.

You press a teasing kiss to her slick folds, giggling to yourself as you hear her impatient huff above you. You spread her thighs farther apart, leaning forward and sucking her clit into your mouth. Pulling away slightly you use your index and middle finger to rub figure eights on her swollen clit. You move further down to push your tongue into her entrance, loving the way her body reacts to it. Julien moans above you rocking her hips and tangling her fingers in your hair.

"Y/n..... Baby... I can't.." Julien groans out, her big brown eyes rolling back in her head, the cowboy hat falling off. You thrust your tongue faster before pulling away and replacing your tongue with your fingers. Sucking her clit into your mouth, and picking up the pace with your fingers. You feel her tighten around you, her whole body going rigid.

"Uhh... Princess... more." She moans, coming undone on your fingers, grinding against your face. You let her ride out her orgasm on your fingers, drinking in all that she has to give you.

Julien shakily removes her leg from your shoulder, her hands still tangled in your hair now using you as a stabilizer.

You look up at her and giggle at the astonished look on her flushed face. She's standing against the door in just a tank top and brown button up.

She finally makes eye contact with you, her face a little less spaced out. Julien roughly pulls you up to kiss her, her teeth clashing with yours. She pulls the button up, tank top, and sports bra off before reaching down to pick up the cowboy hat. Immediately attacking your clothes, pulling off almost every scrap leaving you in your bra and underwear.

"Fuck Jay... "You whine into her mouth as she attempts to steer you both up the stairs, and towards your bedroom. You both hit multiple walls and doorframes before finally making it to the bed. Julien pushes you down onto the bed before climbing on top of you, unclasping your bra.

She bites and sucks her way down your chest roughly taking one of your nipples in her mouth. You arch off of the bed, crying out her name and raking your fingers down her back. She runs her hands down your body pulling your lacy underwear off and tossing them somewhere behind her.

"God, You have no idea what you do to me.... " Julien groans into your breast biting a hickey onto it. You gasp at the sudden pain that mixes with the pleasure she's already flooding you with. She flips you both so that you're now on top of her, she starts guiding your body closer and closer to her mouth.

"Okay okay wait!" You say suddenly filling with anxiety. The two of you had done this a few times with Julien being the one riding your face, seeing as she weighed less than you. Julien immediately froze what she was doing, her hands resting on your knees.

"Are you okay, Baby? What is it?" Julien asked in a soothing voice, rubbing gentle circles on your legs.

"If we do this, I need you to be completely honest if you can't breathe okay." Julien sighs, rolling her eyes.

"No hey i'm being serious! I weigh more than you do and I don't want to hurt you!" You say forcing her to look you in the eyes.

"Baby, I love you, You know how much I love you. And how much I love your body... I want to fucking suffocate between your thighs." Julien said squeezing your thighs for emphasis.

"If it gets to be too much two taps okay." You say still not letting this drop.

"Yes ma'am." Julien sighed, before pushing you forward again. You got to where you were hovering right over her face, a leg on either side of her head.

"Oh my god!" Julien laughed, forcing you down onto her face, her tongue instantly finding your clit and playing with it before making her way to your entrance. Once her tongue was keeping a steady rhythm in and out of you, she pushes your hips forward so that her nose is pressing into your clit.

"Ohhh fuck Jay, shit baby!" You cry out, tangling your hands into her hair. You arch your back even more when Julien pulls you even tighter against her face, she forces your hips into a rocking motion. She's eating you out like this is her last meal, and you can feel the knots in your stomach tighten. You feel her moan against you, the vibrations finally doing you in as you start to cum. You try to pull away from her so she doesn't almost drown... again, but she forces you to ride the orgasm out on her face. She's licking and sucking and even nibbling your clit, causing the aftershocks to elevate into you cuming again. Julien just keeps licking and sucking until you think you might pass out.

"Jay, Babe, Please, I can't breathe." You say, realizing only now that you are crying from how intense the pleasure was. Julien finally releases your thighs and helps you move down her body so you're resting hips to hips. You look down at her face once you can actually focus on her, noticing how soaked her face is. The blood immediately rushes into your cheeks, Julien licks her lips with a very satisfied smirk.

"Did I-" You start to say, but Julien cuts you off. "You just squirted, and it was probably the hottest thing ever. Honestly of all the times i've almost drown gotta say, I really do prefer to drown between your legs." She finished reaching up and biting your shoulder, causing you to finally relax and giggle. She pulled you down to lay flat against her, kissing all over your face.

"You" kiss "Are" kiss "so" kiss "fucking" kiss "perfect" kiss. You move so you're both laying against the pillows, wrapping your legs around her waist.

Julien goes to lay on your chest, and looks uncomfortable. She leans back up and pulls the cowboy hat out from under her, making a face before laying back on your chest. You wrap your arms around her, whispering into her hair how much you love her. You feel her smile into your breasts, playfully biting before pressing a kiss with a mumbled I love you more.

After about 10 minutes of you thinking she's asleep, you feel her blow a raspberry into your sternum causing you to laugh obnoxiously loud.

"I feel like we should order takeout." She yawned.

- i want her so bad y'all, also this accidentally happened.

#julien baker smut #julien baker #julien baker x reader #boygenuis #lucy dacus #phoebe bridgers

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Now that it’s confirmed that Kid is yandere for Lucky I now think it is HILARIOUS to assume that Kid went after Shanks for the simple reason that he too also likes Lucky and Kid wants to weed out the competition and he thought “The bigger the better! She’ll totally like me if she sees how strong I am and how well I can protect her!! No one will wanna go near her!!!” Completely underestimating how delusional/down bad ALL of them are for her.

But if anyone ask Kid why he’s going after Shanks he’ll tell em “It’s for the glory!!! I want the title!!!” And Killers in the background like, “Ya Kid… Whatever you say Kid! Everyone TOTALLY believes that one Kid!” while making faces at Heat and Wire.

Killer every time Kid opens his mouth and starts on some elaborate lie/rant as to why he’s going after Shanks:

Lucky lets it happen cause the problem will eventually take care of itself if it goes down gladiator ring style.

Killer and the rest of the crew have to endure listening to him make up excuses for every interaction between them and the Straw Hats. It's not for Lucky, he definitely just wants to eliminate them that's it! Same for Shanks!

That aside, I'm going to use this as an opportunity to talk more about Lucky and Kid's relationship because I want to.

Fun fact, their connection was established in chapter one of Lucky Break, but I'm not sure anyone noticed it. In the prologue, it's explicitly stated that Lucky was holding her backpack when she fell into the One Piece world. In chapter one, there is no mention of it. This wasn't a fuck up on my part, this was intentional.

When she is trying not to drown, she lets go of the backpack and it floats away. Eventually, someone on the Punk Victoria finds it and decides to grab it because there might be something interesting in it, and there was.

In the backpack are the following: a cellphone, a flashlight, a wallet, a snack bar, and some face masks and gloves.

Kid can't figure out what the cellphone and flashlight are supposed to be, and is very frustrated by this. Examining the wallet reveals some weird money and cards he doesn't recognize, but the most important thing in it is the ID. He first lays eyes on the picture, and he burns the face into his memory. If anyone can explain what the weird shit is that he found, it's going to be this woman.

He always has her ID on him on the off chance they run into each other, everything else is kept safe on the ship. Because he has Lucky's ID, he is one of the very few people outside of the Straw Hats that knows her real name.

Kid is the only yandere that was obsessed before he met her. He was so hung up on finding her that by the time they did meet, he fell hard and fast.

The first time he sees Lucky in person, it takes a minute because the scar throws him off, but when he takes out the ID to compare and says her name and she reacts to it? It's all over. He needs her on his ship now, and he won't take no for an answer. He's waited too long to get an explanation on what those weird things are he found. Lucky is definitely frightened by his rough demeanor, but she's hopeful that she'll be let go after explaining what the things he found were.

I'm sure none of y'all need me to tell you that's not what happens. Kid may have some answers, however confusing, but the obsession isn't gone. He still wants to keep her.

On the scale I mentioned previously when discussing Kaku, Kid is all the way over on the 'OH GOD NO' side. He's unfriendly, unnecessarily cruel, and is one of the few yanderes that would be willing to hurt Lucky if it meant keeping her. It's not his first option by any means, but it isn't off the table either and he lets her know that. Yet he's somehow surprised when she's afraid of him.

He can be nice in his own ways, but he's bad at it. If he sees Lucky shivering, he'll throw his coat at her while yelling at her to 'stop shivering it looks pathetic'.

While he would say that he doesn't care if she likes him or not so long as he has her, he's lying. If she genuinely never grew fond of him it would bother him deeply.

#lucky break #eustass kid #rebeccawinters

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of Both Worlds (Part 27)

Tw: religious mentions, short chapter

its mostly filler and like transition material, but only 2 of the options will introduce a new character which may or may not be relevant to the story

man what the hell am i talking about i barely follow my own rules, just chose what yall think best

VOTE BELOW FIRST 20 VOTES ONLY COUNT

Part 28

"Alright! Let's go!" Evangeline hooked her arms around yours and dragged you away. Montgomery had to catch up after you and her.

__

"Will you shut the hell up?" Montgomery hissed through his teeth.

"I'm just saying, (name) wouldn't have agreed with you saying 'Anita Bath' if you weren't stinky." She took another bite of her pepperoni pizza slice.

"Why are you friends with her?" Montgomery turned to you, exasperated and desperately wishing that you would send her away.

You shrugged and ate your slice. You were secretly grateful that Montgomery came by because you forgot to bring Yves's lunch again. If it wasn't for him, you would have starved until evening. Or you're forced to use your allowance from Yves and Montgomery to buy something- you'd rather save that money for something else.

Then something came to his mind. "Hey, goldie. Ya' said something happened between y'all and that freak this mornin'. What was that about?"

You tensed up, but Evangeline is as cheerful and calm as ever.

"Oh, he just wanted me to stay away from (name). That's all." You stared at her in disbelief. Why would she disclose that?

Montgomery furrowed his eyebrows. "Why?"

She tapped her chin and hummed. "I think he's jealous."

Montgomery scoffed in response. "Typical of those rich bastards. They'll try to isolate their victims so they ain't got no escape until they're done with them."

You felt like your eyes were about to pop out of your sockets when Evangeline nodded in agreement. Who's side is she on?

"And it's as if (name) would want a lil' stuck-up brat like you." Evangeline shot him a nasty look and placed her hands on her hips.

"Hey, that wasn't nice."

"Whatever, twerp." He dismissed her, taking another slice and handing it to you, seeing that you just finished your first one. You're too hungry to care what this gesture might mean, so you just take it off his hands.

"Stinky." She stuck her tongue out at him. Montgomery flipped her off.

This is... a very sibling-like dynamic you're witnessing. Although Montgomery outwardly dislikes her, you think that they're working together towards something. And it's making your gut instinct go haywire.

You wish Yves is here so badly. He knows what to do.

You turn your head to look at the lockers where your phone is charging.

While they were bickering, you stood up and went to check on your phone. You pressed the correct combination of numbers on the keypad and waited for the locker door to swing open. You unplugged your phone and prayed hard it was enough to turn it on.

A minute has passed and it still isn't turning on. You sighed, replacing the cord and allowing it to charge longer.

You returned to your seat, only to see Evangeline and Montgomery listening to a third person standing up next to them. They're holding a stack of papers, and your unwanted companions are holding a piece in their hands.

"Hi there." They greeted you. "I was talking to your friends about our club, here is a flyer with all our details. Feel free to contact us if you're interested."

You flip the glossy paper over, it says:

"Like to talk? Like to convince? Want to make friends? Join our debate club!"

The stranger showed you, Evangeline, and Montgomery where their phone numbers are located on the paper, the names of their social media pages, and meeting times. Which was apparently from 12pm to 5pm daily.

"Don't y'all have classes at these times?" Montgomery asked.

"Well, not all of us do. Anyone can feel free to come in or leave as they like. The session concludes at five in the evening, though."

All three of you gave them a response of acknowledgment.

"We hope to see new faces! I'll get going now, bye!" They walked away and began conversing with other people, promoting their club.

You stared at it. People were promoting their clubs last semester, but you never joined any of them. Maybe you should heed Yves's advice and put yourself out there so that you're not stuck with Evangeline, Montgomery, and Yves as your only friends.

"What do you think, (name)?" Evangeline asked you. "Are you going to join? I'll come with if you do."

You didn't respond verbally, but your body language should be expressing discomfort.

"Sweetheart, I think you're better off joinin' this." Montgomery took out a folded brochure from his pocket.

You tried your best to smoothen it, but it was crumpled beyond repair.

It seems to be a promotional medium for the university's youth group. Sponsored by the Catholic Church.

He wants you to join... a Christian club?

"Y'all should be findin' Jesus. You'll learn a thing or two about work-life balance from those bible studies."

You saw a mischievous glint in Evangeline's baby blues and you know that it's not going to end well.

"Wow, Monty! That's so Christian of you to harass (name), and give them gifts and food in exchange for something you want from them! Look! (Name) is already following in the steps of Christ. Like in 1 Peter, chapter 2, verse 20: When you do good and suffer for it you endure, this is a gracious thing in the sight of God. Great job taking his bullshit!" She clapped her hands and giggled madly.

Montgomery shook his head and looked at her with great incredulity. "What the hell are you even talkin' about?! Y'know what, I don't care. Run ya' mouth all you want."

He turned to you. "Trust me, if you wanna join a club, yer' better off joinin' this one." He rubbed your forearms in his hands.

"Didn't you say we're grown? (Name) can totally make their own decision on which club they want to join."

Montgomery narrowed his eyes at her but didn't say anything in retaliation for once.

"Which club will you be joining, (name)?"

#yandere male #yandere concept #yandere oc #yandere x you #oc yves #male yandere oc x reader #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere oc x reader #oc montgomery #oc evangeline

[fadingdaggerr]

home

part one | part two | part three | part four

pairing: brienne of tarth x gn!reader

summary: every journey ends with you coming home | 8.1k

warnings: got s8 spoilers, canon-typical violence, angst, mentions of death/dead bodies (non-descriptive), injury, lesbians being lil gay creatures, making out, mini-epilogue-ish ending :)

note: tada, tis the end the the home series! thank you so much for the love on this little series, i enjoyed writing it so much. brienne holds a special place in my heart, and so does the skyforth now. god i gave it so much lore on accident. anyways, i hope y'all enjoy this last chapter. love ya

the battle of the bastards had resulted in tremendous loss for every side of the battle, but lady sansa was determined to get her home back. with her will alone, she brought the knights of the vale, littlefinger still willing to do anything and everything to keep her loyalty. sansa’s soldiers were still late, hundreds were dead, gone. rickon, her own kin. nearly one hundred skyforth, and wildlings too. the boltons lost more, sansa saw to that. you couldn’t help but admire her strength, she had grown from the ‘little bird’ as the hound called her into a bird of prey.

the move from castle black to the lands around winterfell had allowed for better hunting, as well as more space to spread out the village. the battle has left you with varying injuries, broken ribs and arm, lacerations across your entire body, but this meant nothing when it came to the loss of your men. larkin and brienne hovered over you for weeks, bringing things to you, taking things you held, offering arms to help you walk. my ribs are broken, not my legs! you had finally shouted at brienne, quickly muttering an apology. she was just happy to see your personality return after weeks of conversations that were meek and quiet from your pain.

brienne had felt selfish for missing you while you recovered. she missed your fireside conversations, your compliments, your voice, you. gods, you had several broken bones, injuries galore, and you were grieving the loss of so many friends, and here she was missing hers. she missed you and you were just outside the castle. she could only bear so many nights of this until she had forced you to leave your bed and walk around with her. you spent most of your time in your tent, not letting anyone in and only leaving when no one was around. this had been the first time she had seen you again.

sitting together at the fire, there was a comfortable silence. you had leaned your head against her shoulder, and she was sure nothing was better.

—

preparation for the long night was starting to feel like a lost cause, it felt like the only saving grace were daenerys's dragons, but you couldn’t admit this. no matter how many daggers landed in the bullseye, or how many arrows split into one another, it hadn’t felt like enough. larkin was training for hours on end, practicing with podrick and the others as much as possible, but brienne knew. she saw the look in your eyes every time he’d trained as of late.

“he’s not going to fight, is he?” she asks you quietly, keeping her gaze on the training in front of you both. the sun was coming down now, meaning the night training would begin soon, but larkin was an overachiever much like you.

“no. i intend to keep my promise to his mother, i’m not letting him get himself killed. he’ll stay in the catacombs with the others,” you reply, you’re stern in your tone but your rapid blinking gives you away. she knows that you’re going to feel bad when he finds out. you love him and hate to disappoint him, but you’re not sacrificing him, not a chance. she only nods in response.

you nod to the right, silently asking her to follow and she does, she always does. she can tell there was more you wanted to say, something you didn’t want anyone else to hear. when you stop next to a fire, she feels happiness bloom in her chest. this was your spot. you and her next to the fire, discussing anything and everything. it was a welcome pattern in her world, and one in yours as well.

you exhale deep breath, “i don’t want him to have to watch me die.” brienne’s eyes dart to you, she can see the tears in your eyes threatening to glide down your cheeks, but your face remains cold, unphased. she doesn’t know what to say to you. she didn’t have a child, she couldn’t imagine what you were feeling.

“you don’t know that you will,” she says, mostly for herself. the thought of you dying is not a welcome one. she thinks that she would kill death if he came for you.

“you’re right, i don’t know that i will, but i do know that it’s likely. he doesn’t need to see another parent die, once was well more than enough.” brienne almost smiled, she hadn’t heard you refer to larkin as your son, or you as his parent before. perhaps it was the impending doom that softened you to the title, but more likely you just stopped lying to yourself and accepted that you were a parent. something that you hadn’t thought you’d be or dreamt of, but something that you had accepted. 

“then you’ll just have to survive then,” brienne finally smiles once she says this. 

you turn to her, returning the smile with a faint one before replying, “i’ve got a reason to try.” your lips form a tightline, forcing you to keep whatever you wanted to say back into your mind. brienne pretends not to notice.

—

tormund giantsbane was a massive walking headache that seemed to follow you around. when the tents had been set up, extra tents were given to the free-folk. this worked well for everyone, except for you it seemed. being friends with brienne only meant that talking to you about her was all the man seemed capable of. he commented on her body, her skill, her eyes, her height, for hours and hours. was he wrong in what he saw? no, not at all. were you glad someone else saw her beauty? of course! but was the fact that someone else wanted her making you dream of cutting him limb-by-limb? oh, absolutely. he had yet to talk down upon her, so you were forced to listen to him until your ears bled.

“i wish to make babies with her,” tormund says bluntly. all conversation halts, everyone either looking at you in fear or at him in humor. larkin fake gags next to you, making ragnall chuckle. you elbow the boy while staring at your plate, biting your tongue to keep the venom from spitting.

“you were thinking it too,” larkin whispers.

“which part?” ragnall says with a quiet laugh. your arm reaches around to smack him upside the head, motherfucker muttered under your breath.

you hurry the rest of your food into your mouth, before standing to leave. you could not bear to listen to another second, killing him was getting too tempting. larkin asked where you were going, only to be met with a grumbled outside. you make your way through the snow to the targets, hoping you could channel your aggression elsewhere.

my woman, you’ve returned to me. center target. my blonde beauty. center target. do you think she’d like to know why my name is giant? center target. you pictured his face in each one. his comments made her uncomfortable, she didn’t have to say anything for you to know that. you lied to yourself and told yourself that was the only reason he angered you, you also tried this lie on ragnall who promptly told you he wouldn’t “work for liars and fools.”

“did that post do something of offense?”

you nearly jump out of your skin, hand over your heart, “fucking hell woman! warn me next time.”

brienne laughs lightly, “i tried, but it seems you were too heavy into quite the assault on those targets. what’s wrong?”

“i respect the free-folk, but god damn would muzzling that red one do the world some good,” you sigh out, it’s as close to the truth that you can offer, “he’s lucky he isn’t harmful in his words, that’s about the only thing saving his ginger ass right now.” brienne nearly cackles at your word choice.

“are you starting to regret having them move into the village?”

you shake your head, “not at all, maybe just him. the rest are normal people who don’t talk about who they want to ‘make babies with’ while i’m eating. cultural differences or not, who needs to listen to that over and over again?”

brienne’s eyes are wide as ever as she blurts, “making babies?”

“you’re biggest fan apparently has very big plans for your future together, it’s all i hear about these days,” you say as brienne’s face screws up in disgust and embarrassment. you can’t help but smile at her, finding the face she was making to be quite cute. she groans to herself, a muttered fucking gods under her breath. “i take it you don’t share his appreciation?” you joke, earning a smack to the arm in response.

“i’m only joking, no need for violence,” you both laugh, “what brings you to my humble and irritating abode?”

“i was going to get a drink, but you weren’t there. i was not in the mood to deal with all of them alone,” you chuckle and nod in agreement at her statement, “feeling even more proud of my decision knowing the topic of conversation.”

you cringe, hearing tormund’s words in your head again, “men have seemed to have only mastered cruel words and incredibly uncomfortable ones. unfortunately, i think your groupie may take the top prize for the second one.”

brienne’s face goes from playful to thoughtful, almost insecure, “i thought something other than callous words would feel better, but it still feels like mockery all the same. It’s just mockery with a goal of a quick fuck.”

you can only nod at her words, you hadn’t experienced her life. even as a noble woman of a respected house, she had been belittled, only her father saw her potential for so long. others only saw her as a fighter, the great brienne of tarth, the very same they would sing horrible songs about.

you take a deep breath before asking, “do you remember what i said the first time we met?”

“those suitors were fools?” she offers, “the whole lot of them, if i remember correctly.”

you smile to yourself, “yes. i’d like to amend my statement and say that men are fools, every last one. especially the ones who don’t see you, actually see you.” these words seem to render brienne speechless. she silently thanks the night’s darkness for covering her warmed cheeks, a part of her wanted to ask what you saw. her bravery seems to fold when it comes to you, and her question dies in her throat, waiting for another day.

—

rangers come back with news that the night king will be upon winterfell by sunrise. jon snow delivers this information to everyone with clenched fists and teeth. the king of the north spoke of preparations, orders given to each faction of his army, he spoke with house and group leaders to give direction for troops. brienne stood behind sansa, facing you. she watched as you listened to jon, eyebrows furrowed, eyes fixed on the man. she had never truly seen you in commander mode, only ever being with you in the calm between storms until now. she noted larkin’s presence, you had finally told him he would not be fighting once the rangers returned.

“skyforth archers will join the wall, swordsmen and riders will be on the ground. our climbers are archers and dagger throwers, they’ll be best suited in towers and high points,” you relay to jon, “i’ll stay on the wall as well, i’ll have access to my archers and climbers from there, section leaders can handle the others.” he agrees with your plan, glad he had waited for your eyes to stop scanning the air as you painted the layout of the troops in your mind.

“maybe this one is a real commander after all,” tormund jests.

“exactly, the commander, not the placeholder. unlike yourself for mance rayder,” you snap back as you rise from the table, a “follow-me” motion sent over your shoulder to ragnall. he follows with a silent laugh and a shake of his head. he looks back at brienne as he leaves the room, raising his brows before stepping out to follow you.

some hours later, a rider approaching winterfell was announced. no one else was expected, making everyone’s hands subconsciously hover over their weapons. a brown stead with a single rider comes through the doors, dismounting the horse and lowering his hood, his face finally comes into view. jaime fucking lannister.

you just about groan when brienne vouches jaime at the hearing. she trusted him, would fight with him, the same she said about you. what felt like a personal nod of trust, and for you, devotion, was stripped away of any real meaning. larkin stepped back slightly and held the crook of your elbow, “breathe slowly, commander.”

at his words, you realize your breathing was erratic at best. your mind finally came back to your body, clammy palms and ears ringing. you kept a straight face the best you could, looking more angry than calm, but it was better than the anguish that bubbled up within you. a moment you had held onto for months, one that comforted you in dark nights, ripped away. ripped away by the very person who gave you the memory. you hear the murmurs of bullshit and is she fucking mad? from the men behind you. the slightest turn of your head silenced them, the sharp stare told them all they needed to know. no fucking around tonight.

when the meeting was dismissed, you turned immediately, ale was the only thing on your mind now. you told oskar you were going to be alone, and to tell men to enjoy what would be a last night for many. you roamed the halls of winterfell, finding a quiet room with a hearth and some lounge chairs. a grateful smile for the inviting quarters passes your lips as you start a fire and sit on a couch while cradling your drink. this wouldn’t be a bad last night, you’d be warm at least. you couldn't tell how much time had passed, only snapping out of your comforting dazeat the door creaking. opening one eye, you turn to see ser davos in the doorway.

“apologies, i was just looking for a quiet place. i’ll leave you,” he says kindly as he turns to leave.

“don’t be foolish, ser. you can join me in my silence,” you say with a little waving motion. he smiles a little, coming to sit across from you.

“not one for the larger festivities down stairs?” he asks.

“we can celebrate when we win, i’d rather a more relaxed night if it’s to be my last,” you say calmly, death was not a foe. it was an inevitable force, the least you could do was greet him with slightly less malice. ser davos nods in understanding, he’d known death’s door, he was as well acquainted as you were.

another finds your small, warm sanctuary. this time, there’s no apology, no leaving. looking back you see blonde hair slicked back, blue eyes looking between you and davos. you nod to the seat next to you, and she moves over to sit there. she looks into the fire for a moment, eyes scanning the flames for answers to an unknown question before looking back to you.

“larkin was looking for you. i told him i would find you for him. did i, or will you find him later?” she asks, knowing that you’re still grappling with leaving him.

“he’ll find me, if he doesn’t podrick will find you, and here i’ll be,” you say, tilting your head towards her. she huffs a small laugh, and this makes you smile slightly. your prediction seems to come to fruition as podrick steps in the room, eyes landing on you. he steps back out and you hear a muffled told you they’d be in here before larkin comes in.

he perches himself on the arm of couch, leaning into you with an arm around your shoulders, “i’m sorry i was a dick earlier.” he didn’t need to say more, you knew why he had exploded on you. you’d never been yelled at like that before, let alone by him.

“it’s forgotten. thank you for coming back,” you respond, leaning into him as well. he wasn’t your son by blood, but by the gods would you love and protect him as if he were. you smack his hand as it reaches for ale, “one, one singular, cup. hear me, fool?”

you miss how brienne smiles at the scene, how your love for the boy was stronger than any need to uphold your image as a mighty commander. she saw how there were very few things that had lowered your guard, she had observed them all over the last few months you’d spent in winterfell together. larkin was always a soft spot, and most children at that. you would always squat to their heights, you spoke to them all like they were adults. you had an odd soft spot for lyanna mormont, who had said she thought you were one of the few decent leaders left in westeros. brienne liked to think you had a sort of soft spot for her. you never joked about her appearance, or anything she talked about. you always looked her in the eyes when she spoke, full attention, like nothing else mattered.

loud voices disrupt the peace you both found in this moment, only now noticing that both lannister brothers and tormund were now in the room. brienne notices now larkin looks at you, then her very briefly, before muttering something to you. whatever he says makes you swat him away, making him slightly topple off his perch.

as the night carries on, happier chatter turns to reminiscing on journeys and triumphs. you talk about your first victory in skyforth, then the first when you became commander. upon podrick’s request you spoke of how you went from fighter to strategist to commander, and the fates of the two men who thought they could easily disrespect you. brienne chuckles as she watches all the men in the room gawk and sit a little straighter in their seats, you just look at her, appreciating the sight.

tyrion discusses the victories of ser davos, podrick, and jaime. his eyes freeze on brienne, “ser brienne of tarth, defeated the hound- pardon me, lady brienne.”

“she’s not a ser?” tormund turns to her, “you’re not a knight?”

“women can’t be knights, it's tradition,” she responds dejectedly.

the wildling quickly says, “fuck tradition.”

you raise your glass, “that has got to be the most intelligent thing i have ever heard you say, tormund. damn right, fuck tradition.” tormund clinks his horn against your cup with a loud laugh.

brienne rolls her eyes, “i didn’t even want to be a knight.” you and podrick both look at her, faces screaming liar!

tormund leans into brienne’s space, you grip your cup tighter. “i’m no king, but if i were i’d knight you ten times over.” the intelligence apparently leaped out the window after one comment.

“aye!” larkin says quickly, “respect for the lady, you moron.”

you shove back a chuckle, “meathead is right, watch yourself,” you ignore brienne’s gaze, “and any knight can make another knight, it’s not just the king. is that correct or am i making that up, tyrion?” you point your question to the man next to davos.

before he can answer, jaime turns around, “no, you’re right. i’ll prove it.”

he unsheaths his sword, commanding brienne to the center of the room. she’s apprehensive, her eyes move to you without much thought. you’re already looking at her, your eyes in hers. she watches you with shaking breath as you mouth go. 

you watch as brienne bends to one knee in front of jaime. her head rises to face him, azurite eyes looking towards him. her left shoulder, “in the name of the warrior, i charge you to be brave,” her right, “in the name of the father, i charge you to be just,” her left once more, “in the name of the mother, i charge you to defend the innocent.” brienne’s tears are visible from your seat, your own forming in your eyes because gods, they’re finally starting to see her. “arise, brienne of tarth,” jaime’s words feel golden, “a knight of the seven kingdoms.”

you can’t contain the joy inside of you that overflows as you see brienne become who she truly is, a real knight, the truest. you clap quickly and loudly, the others joining. she looks at you with watery eyes, and in this moment you can’t be angry anymore. she’s smiling, a real, big, toothy grin, nothing else matters now. you raise your glass, “ser brienne of tarth!” and a chorus follows, a sea of congratulations go towards her.

you go to fill your cup, eyes closing as you rest against the wall. you brienne look around, eyes following her path until she found you. she walks up to you, her eyes now on the floor. “ser brienne, fancy meeting you here.’

she laughs shyly before asking, “can we talk? away from all of them?”

you grab her arm and start walking, “of course.”

—

you reach her quarters after following her quiet directions she gives along the way. she immediately goes to start the fire, and you sit on the edge of her bed as you watch. you watch as the flames grow, and the light warms her face, the orange hue on her pale skin was one of the few wonders in your world.

once she’s satisfied with the fire, she sits next to you, “i have a question.”

you smile faintly as you look at her, “i’ll answer anything you ask me.”

brienne desperately tries to calm her frenzied heart as she asks what had been on her mind for weeks now, “what do you see? when you say they don’t actually see me, what do you see that they don’t?”

she watches as your face drops, eyes going to your hands that were now clenched in your lap. you swallow the cowardice that rose in your throat, telling you to just say she was a great fighter and leave it at that, but lying to her wasn’t an option, not when you’d likely never get the chance to tell her by the time the sun rises. you tear your gaze from your lap and bring them back to her big, blue eyes, shimmering sapphires begging for an answer.

she deserves to know. you swallow your pride, turning to face her properly, knees knocking into hers. “i see grace, in your nobility and your movement. i see strength in too many ways to count, but i see it the most in your honor. you are the most honorable person in westeros, as i said before, oathkeeper is a name fitting of both you and the blade,” you grab her hand, forcing her to look you in the eyes, “but i see more than just an honorable knight,” you smile at her title.

“and what’s that?” she says quietly, nearly a whisper.

“the most enchanting and gracious being, one so much so that it follows my dreams. you are my dream, brienne,” her hand grips yours tightly as you continue, “when i told you that you were beautiful, i meant every word. in my eyes, there is nothing in the world or beyond more fitting for the title,” brienne is looking into you with an intensity that tells you she’s deciding whether she believes you or not. you take a deep breath, “that is what i see.”

the knight’s mouth opens and closes, not words able to find their way out. never had you seen her so flustered, you could only take this shyness as confirmation of her belief, if she hadn’t she would have already been yelling at you. you release one hand from her grasp, with a slight struggle, but a quick squeeze and a brush over her knuckles finally frees you. a hooked index finger rests under her chin, the tip of your thumb hovering just under her bottom lip.

pulling her face in, you place a soft kiss to her blushing cheek, barely a centimeter away from her wanting lips. you linger for a moment, “if we survive this war, i will spend the rest of my days telling you everything i see. i swear it.”

before brienne can respond, horns begin sounding loudly. the night king had arrived.

—

everything was a blur. fire and smoke clouded the air. blood saturated your clothes, some yours, some not. men and women, dead and gone, littered the ground, but no tears fell for them. you ran across the wall, pulling a bow and quiver with you and you found a half-way decent vantage point. the dead climbed the walls, so you could only go higher and higher, firing as you climbed. your aim was rough, adrenaline and dirt making you miss vital shots.

a cold hand grips your calf, pulling you down with sharp nails ripping your skin. you scream in anger and pain, grabbing a dagger from your back and blindly stabbing at the walker’s hands. it was nothing to it, it kept it’s assault and you thrashed and kicked powerfully, nearly knocking the grip loose.

your eyes close as the pain grows, at least i had one hell of a last night, passes your thoughts. and just as you nearly take matters into your own hands, the walker drops, and your hands frantically grip the wall so as to not fall with him. you scan around, other walkers dropped to the ground, littering the ground along with your own dead. shaking hands and legs move on their own to carry you down the tower at a controlled pace, landing you on the wall. you peer over the edge, every wight was slumped against the castle, unmoving, truly dead at last. it’s over, it’s fucking over.

a firm grip on your arm shakes you from your mind, you turn to see a now one-armed dorin. you swiftly grab him, pulling him into your arms, one hand gripping his torn jacket, the other soothing his hair. you whisper questions to him, his arm, other injuries, but he’s too tired to give you real answers, so you just hold him.

his head rises from your shoulder, “the wights… they got into the catacombs. i don’t know how many remain.” your face falls, he knows what your thinking and is already ahead of you, “go, find him.” and by the gods you run, you had never run with so much purpose. you jumped over boxes and weapons and bodies, jumping over the railing, using it to climb down and drop to the ground. larkin was the only thing that mattered, your son, your boy.

you run to the catacombs, skipping stairs and hurdled in. but it was empty of life, only walkers and victims left. not a single body was the curly haired teenager with the scar across his cheek from his own dagger. you sprint back to the yard, desperately scanning for him. “larkin! LARKIN!” you scream as you run, “BOY!” you yell again with cupped hands. the tears that had been building since you saw dorin’s face were falling freely now, your sobs were choking you as you searched.

red hair catches your attention, sansa, by the gods she was alive. you sprint to her, a hand coming to her shoulder. she turns to you, placing her hand on yours, “he’s alive.” your sigh of relief makes another sob rip from you, your hands come to cover your face.

“he ran to find you i presume, the second the wights fell, he bolted,” tyrion speaks from beside the stark girl, your hands leave your face. you nod his way, passing him with a pat on the shoulder in thanks.

you continue searching until you hear a loud cry of your name from behind you, only three people  truly knew it. you turned, eyes landing on curly hair and big brown eyes that were filled with held back tears. bodies colliding with a thud and nearly toppling over, you cradle the boy to you, kissing his head repeatedly, muttering i’m here, we’re alive, i love you. he’s shaking against you, bloodied hands seizing your shirt like you could disappear at any moment.

“where were you? why didn’t you stay with sansa? are you hurt?” you pull away from him, inspecting his hands, “what did you do? where else are you hurt?” you grab his face, his face clouded from tears that had yet to stop falling from your eyes.

“i had to stop them from getting to her, i couldn’t leave sansa undefended. i was beating it back just as they fell, i’m okay. are you?”

you chuckle, “i’m alive, and mostly intact. you didn’t answer me, where were you, why weren’t you with sansa and tyrion?”

“i was looking for you, or podrick, or brienne. i needed to know you were alive, had to see for myself,” he answers through a tear-clogged voice. you pull him in, rubbing his back, silently asking for an answer, “i found them, they’re alive. she’s alive.” a choked sob leaves you again, holding your son tighter to you before pulling away.

—

turning the corner into the great hall the next night fills your senses. boisterous laughter and conversation, the clinking of glasses, the smell of ale, wine, and smoldering fire. you watched as people laughed, threw their arms around one another, kissed cheeks and lips. all of it quickly faded, all the voices sounded like they were underwater, you couldn’t see anyone. it all evaporates, and all you can see is blonde hair and a black tunic, a cup in her hand, a smile on her lips. it’s as if a spotlight was upon her, drawing you to her like a moth to a flame. 

podrick sees you before the rest, knocking brienne’s knee with his own. she looks at his with a questioning expression, only answered by his head cocking to whatever was behind him. brienne turns with a grunt, annoyed with the lack of straight-forward answer. her world stops, similarly to yours. the second your eyes meet, her mouth drops open, then forms into a huge, toothy smile. you’re quick to return it and pick up your pace, already having a place next to her and podrick circled the table and sat next to jaime instead.

“you’re here,” brienne says quietly, but her happiness is evident.

“so are you,” you respond with a smile, placing a hand on her knee and giving it a quick squeeze under the table before grabbing a cup and pouring some ale for yourself.

brienne’s eyes never leave you, knowing that your words and actions mean more now, she can’t seem to find it in herself to look away. she watches as you talk with the others, notes how you don’t really look them in the eyes and mess with your cup when you speak, how you close your eyes when you laugh, bump shoulders with her when she was the one to make you chuckle. she especially liked how you’d look at her when she’d laugh and your gaze would linger for a few seconds before turning back to the group. she came to the conclusion that nothing could ever be as exquisite as you smiling with your eyes looking into hers, nothing would ever be as warm and inviting as your touch.

after an hour, you silently chugged the rest of your cup, then slid from your seat, “i’ll be seeing myself out. i’m glad to have you all still here with us, truly. have a good rest of your night, gentlemen,” you turn and bow your head slightly, “ser brienne.” she stares silently as you spin on your heel and leave, a small smile thrown over your shoulder. a cough pulls her from your frame.

“you gonna do something about that or should we just give you a rag for the drool on your chin?” jaime says from across the table, an amused look across his face. podrick snorts at the joke, but brienne’s glare has him covering it with a fake cough, making tyrion snicker.

“i’m afraid i don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says as she takes a large sip from her own ale, “so drop it.”

a loud laugh leaves jaime’s mouth, “sure, you’re just staring longingly into the distance daydreaming about… nothing? i didn’t take you for a coward and a liar, interesting how time has changed you.”

she promptly stands from the table, “i’m not going to listen to this. goodnight, gentlemen.” and with that she leaves, not wanting to hear what they had to say about you, or how she was leaving the same way you did, not the way that would bring her to her own quarters.

she reaches your tent within a few minutes, she wasn’t long behind you anyways. she shook away her insecurities, knocking on the post outside the tent. her heart rate picked up when she heard a gentle come in from the other side of the curtain. she steps in, knocking the snow from her boots behind her. you’re sitting up in your bed, untying your own shoes, your cloak was resting on the back of a chair in the corner. you looked smaller, less imposing, but she knew better. her own cloak was stripped from her shoulders as she moved to sit next to you, joining you in removing her own boots. she didn’t plan on leaving soon unless you asked her, and gods she hoped you wouldn’t. 

“i was wondering when you’d show up, i figured i’d see you in the morning,” you say as you pull off your last boot with a rough, man-handling grip. brienne chuckles and the grunt that escapes you and you reel back a bit from the force.

“i would much rather be here than in the hall with a bunch of drunk idiots,” she replies, removing her final boot with more ease than you had.

“i’m flattered, kind ser. you abandoned a many drunk idiots for a singular, much-less-drunk idiot, i should be thankful a knight of the seven kingdoms appreciates my company,” you laugh, laughing harder when she bumps your shoulder as she tries not to burst out as well.

she shakes her head, “i’d always prefer your company over others.”

her statement ceases your laughter, your affect becoming more serious, “i’d choose you, over all of them.” she turns to you now, eyes full of something that you can’t place, almost wonder, almost disbelief, “surely you know that by now?”

brienne’s long lashes flutter in front of her eyes a few times, you’re speaking so honestly, so truly. she has thousands of things to say and none of them were enough to describe the feeling growing in her chest as she looks at you. “i’d choose you too, no matter the cause.”

the air was so thick, you couldn’t move. her own gravitational force keeping you in her orbit, seas of aquamarine holding you close. your hand rises, pushing a lock of blonde hair back in formation, gently smoothing it down. your hand traces down, fingers tracing her left ear, gliding with a barely-there touch over the scar from your first encounter. brienne closes her eyes, bathing in the silent affection with a small smile on her lips. your fingers continue the dance over her features, hand cupping her cheek, thumb grazing over her skin. this prompts her eyes to open again.

your jaw clenches as you try to get the courage to say something to her. brienne notices, hand coming up to yours on her cheek, resting on your wrist with a gentle grip. she was so gentle, so beautiful. you decided in this very moment there were no words in any languages that could capture the sight in front of you, and you selfishly loved the fact that no one would ever get to experience this moment the way you do. her whisper of your name pulled you from your daydreaming.

deep breath in, deep breath out, “i have no loyalties to any lands. not the north, certainly not king’s landing, i was torn from tarth before i could ever truly experience it, i barely travel to the stormlands as it is,” you pause, anxiety filling your throat, but brienne’s fingers tracing up and down your wrist sooth your rapid heart. “it has taken me most of my life to realize that all these places do not matter in the slightest. they are just flora and earth, we certainly don’t care about that, we care about the concept of home, family. i haven’t a relative left, yet i have all these ridiculous brothers,” brienne laughs breathily at your words, “and though he is not of my blood, i have a son of nearly sixteen. i have the family bit, but i realize after five and a half fucking years, that i finally found my home and i foolishly let her walk away, so i decided i would follow her to my death, if that is what the fates had in store for me.”

you didn’t realize tears had escaped your eyes until brienne’s hand moved to wipe them away, before letting it fall to the curve where your neck meets your shoulders. “you… you are utterly mad,” she says, but you can feel the adoration in her words, making you grin and sniffle away your tears. “gods, you are utterly mad and irrational and impulsive, and apparently have a death wish,” she takes a deep breath, “all this, yet every single night i dreamt of finding you again and never leaving. i dreamt of having a different oath all together, one that swore me to you until my heart stopped beating.”

your free hand rises to brienne’s jaw, hers rests on your thigh. time seems to for you both, taking in each other’s words. she fills your senses, her touch was so inviting, her eyes were hypnotic and deep, pulling you in like tidal waves to the sea. telling her you loved her would never suffice, it was enough, it didn’t quite reach the depth of your devotion. only one thing seemed fitting.

you move from your seat on the bed, her hands fall from your skin. lowering yourself to one knee, looking into her confused eyes. one arm behind your back, one resting on her knee, “ser brienne of tarth, i swear by the old gods and the new to stay by your side, no matter what may happen in our world or in rest of it. i will defend your honor and self, and with complete devotion i will pledge my life to yours, if you will have me.”

her hands go from her lap to cradle your face, moving to kneel on the floor beside you, “only if you’ll allow me to do the same for you. i swear by the old gods and the new, i will protect and defend you, you and your boy. devote myself to you, heart and mind.” heart and mind, heart and mind.

you instantly pull her in, lips crashing together. nearly six years of longing, dancing around each other, gone the second she kisses you back. your lips move frantically together, all desire and love. you grip the front of her tunic, keeping her flush against you as her hands hold your face closer. she’s so soft, her lips, her hands, and her gods her tongue. she was addicting, but nothing compared to the noises that came from her as you ran your hands over her stomach under her tunic. you wanted, needed more of her. she had become your life source, the hole in your chest had completely disappeared, filled with only brienne.

the knight was on cloud nine. she felt drunk off of your lips, more than alcohol had ever affected her. your hands against the skin of her abdomen had her reeling, nearly moaning at your touch alone. she had dreamed of this more than she could say, imagined the feel of your lips, how they’d feel against her own, her neck, her chest. she can only pull you in closer, toppling you both over onto the floor, but she doesn’t let this deter her. she pulls you back in, feeling you smile against her lips as you straddle her waist, one arm holding you up a bit as the other holds her face. she greedily lets her hands run down your body, lightly squeezing your thighs and hips over your clothes, running her hands along your frame. you’re real.

oxygen is less important than you and your hot mouth, much less than your tongue tracing the scar on her lip. your kisses slow much to her displeasure, you pull away but keep your eyes closed. you place a feather light kiss to her lips before pulling away, dropping to hide your face in her shoulder. you hear her breath hitch when you place a gentle kiss to the skin of her neck, only allowing yourself the one for now. her arms wrap around your waist, holding you close, loving the weight of you on top of her. it was warm, grounding.

you speak into her, “you realize you’re stuck with me now, right?”

she chuckles, the vibration of her chest making you smile, “you say it as if that wasn’t my intention.” your head rises from her shoulder to press a sound kiss to her lips, as you pull away she speaks, “are we going to stay laying on the ground?”

it’s your turn to laugh, “depends. if we get up, are you staying with or leaving me?”

brienne’s hips lift and turn, switching your position so she’s now on top of you, strong arms hold her just above you, “how foolish would i be to leave you?” she dips down to kiss you again, and again, then once more for good measure, “we won’t find out.”

you find that laying in your bed with brienne is now your new favorite experience. you lay against her side, her hand drawing invisible patterns on your lower back under your shirt. your own fingers were gently tracing her neck and down to her collarbones, following patterns of faint freckles that lost their vibrance in the cold climate and low sunlight of the north. the string up her tunic was right there, begging you to untie the top of her shirt to follow the freckles of her chest. twirling one of the laces in your hand, you look at her with a silent question, only receiving a silent nod with wide eyes in return.

brienne’s mind felt like it was stuck in a trance, your soft touch was mesmerizing, the occasional soft kisses to her cheek and jaw were clouding her every thought. your fingers slowly, gently untied the top laces of her tunic, permission-seeking eyes looking into hers with each pull of the string. when you had gotten to her sternum, you ceased your movements, then slowly dragged your finger back up to her face. she grabs your hand, bringing it to her kiss-swollen lips and presses a kiss to your knuckles. your eyes sparkle at her action, and you can feel your face warming.

brienne’s overwhelmed by the blatant love for her that swirls in your eyes, her hand drops yours to grab your face, pulling you to her lips once again. she couldn’t get enough of your lips against hers, arms wrapped around you to keep you close. she whines as you suddenly pull away from her, but she immediately takes it back as soft kisses dance down her cheek, over her jaw, dipping to her neck. these weren’t kisses of lust, she was sure of it, but ones to let her know how much you cared. she was lost in her bliss, that she barely hears your mumblings through the fog. so beautiful as you pass over her collarbones, gods i adore you before you press a kiss at the center of her chest. you quickly kiss your way back up to her lips, greeted welcomingly by her tongue and smile. she surprises even herself by pulling away first this time.

her words tumble from her mouth, “you are mine, and i am yours.”

your smile grows quick and wide, her words going straight to your heart and into your soul. “there’s nothing i’d rather be,” you whisper, cuddling your face into her neck once again. 

—

the following weeks had resulted in the death of daenerys targaryen, first of her name. jaime had left two days after the long night, riding to king’s landing for cersei, both lost beneath the rubble of the red keep. brienne said nothing, anger of his betrayal and the sadness of his death battled each other until she sobbed in your arms after a couple days of holding it all in. the leaders of the remaining houses elected bran stark as the king of the seven, now six kingdoms. the north was her own kingdom, as it had long fought to return to.

the small council was formed, tyrion remained hand of the king as punishment for the conspiracy to kill daenerys. samwell tarly was grand maester, lord bronn the master of coin, your friend ser davos as master of ships. your brienne was appointed as the lord commander of the king’s guard, which you had expected, but still kissed her excitedly when you were alone after hearing the news.

today, she had you walking with her, side-by-side in her golden armor. she had only told you that your presence had been requested by the king, nothing more. larkin was trailing behind you both, watching the way you interacted, he most definitely noted the lack of awkwardness that had previously surrounded you both.

entering the council room, you bow to bran, “good morning, your grace.”

“good morning, commander. lord commander,” he nods to each of you, “larkin.”

the boy’s head pops up, curly bouncing, “hello, your grace.”

“has ser brienne told you the reason for your summons?” bran asks.

“no, your grace. she’s been quite tight-lipped despite my pestering,” you jest.

“in the formation of my small council, i seem to have three seats available. from what i’ve been told, you have quite the number of little spies around the kingdoms,” your eyes shoot to brienne at the king’s words, “completely unnoticed, well-managed. not even varys detected their presence, which is no small feat.”

you clear your throat, “thank you, your grace. they were only here to alert me of any major changes so that we could move accordingly, stay out of battle areas.”

“they’ve done well,” bran rests his hands on the table, “i’d like to offer you a seat at this council, as my master of whispers. i trust you’ll be honest and loyal in what is reported to you, i have been told in great detail of your leadership.” brienne closes her eyes momentarily, already knowing you’ll have something to say about this later. 

through wide eyes and a shaky voice you respond, “i’d be honored to accept your offer, your grace. thank you, i will serve you loyally.” 

“i know you will, you’re all dismissed.”

walking out, larkin is practically bouncing off the walls, “master of whispers, the master of whispers. this is insane, this is so amazing. can i go tell everyone?”

you laugh at him, “please do, i have something i have to do here.” he’s already gone before you’re fully done speaking, you shake your head laughing more.

brienne speaks up from beside you, “what is it that you have to do here?”

you scan the hall before grabbing her arm and bringing her down a corridor. you push her against a wall out of sight from the world, and tug her to your lip hurriedly. pulling away, you breathily say, “i love you.” she tries to pull you back in but you push her back, “uh-uh, that’s all you get. price for not preparing me for that, you ass.”

she laughs heartily, “i wasn’t supposed to tell you, it was the king’s orders!” she kisses your cheek as you roll your eyes at her, “i love you too, by the way,” another peck to the cheek, “incredibly so.”

you lean into her lips, not being able to stay away. you mumble against her, “i’m holding you to that.”

let me know if you guys would be interested in more skyforth!reader, i actually really love writing about it! feedback is appreciated as always my little queers

tag list: @lord6-6fandom @fishyikes @soulflame6 @machi-avelli @thoroughly--confused @the-bagel24 @one-pining-queer @naraly0808 @camilapc08 @senzafine6 @slightlymalicedme @another-unoriginal-username @eliscannotdance @jodie-in-a-box @yuilesbn @friskyfisher

#brienne of tarth x reader #brienne x reader #brienne of tarth #gwendoline christie #game of thrones #larissa weems

[callsigndragon]

Tasting the Ashes | Ch. 22: Nightmares fade, memories don't ✍️

Word count: 2k

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, doctors, PAST ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP (with all the bad things that this implies), mentions of death, plane accident, mentions of food, allusion of Rooster's trauma in Afghanistan (nothing too deep, yet)

Friendly reminder that before Ash's call sign was changed to Ashes, she was called Nova.

A/N: Am i coming back? Idk. I just missed writing and posting things so here's this small thing for y'all

Follow @meigalibrary for updates!

Masterlist on pinned

The week passed by in the blink of an eye. Rooster had been preparing every small detail, everything had to be perfect. This was Ash's last Thanksgiving without children. Next year, she will be a mom, she will start her own traditions, she’ll make her own dinner with her family, and Rooster wanted to make sure that she had, at least, one perfect Thanksgiving to use as a reference. 

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” She asked him the day before, after they came back from the doctor’s appointment. 

“You mean what are we doing.” Rooster corrected her, opening the door and helping her climb inside the Bronco. “I’m staying with you, I told ya.” 

Ash smiled a little, the corner of her mouth curving into a shy smile, as if she couldn't believe how much attention she was getting. “What are we doing, then?” 

“Jake told me that he wanted to spend his first Thanksgiving as a dad with the whole Mitchell family. And that includes you. It was going to be a surprise, but you had to ask.” 

Ash snorted, rubbing her belly. “You don’t know how to keep secrets.” 

Bradley looked at her in disbelief, his hand over his chest as he feigned hurt. “I do know how to keep secrets.” 

She tilted her head, eyebrows raised, and lips curled in a smirk. “You told me that Jake was going to propose to Red.” 

“I was so excited about it that I had to share the news with you! She’s your friend, isn’t she?” 

“Well, yes. But it wasn't your secret, and you shouldn't be telling everyone!" 

The pilot stayed quiet, facing the road, and turned the engine on. Ash has been around Rooster long enough to know that when he stays quiet like that, he’s done something he shouldn’t have. “Oh my god. You told the guys.” 

“How do you know?!” 

“Brad, you have guilt written all over your face. And if some of the girls knew, they would have told me.” She explained, laughing at Rooster’s expression. It was when she laughed that Rooster knew. He knew deep inside his soul that this girl was the one he wanted to spend the rest of eternity with. Rooster knew that if there was life after this one, he would find her somehow and fall in love with her again. 

She was all he had been looking for. And yet, everything he couldn’t have. 

“What do you want for dinner?” He asked, savoring the small bliss of domesticity. 

“Pizza?” 

“Pizza it is.” 

"Nova, I can't restart the engine." The male says, fear embedded in his voice, grasping it with its crutches. It's unusual, actually. You're usually the one who's scared in this relationship. 

You feel the world spinning, circling around you in a blur. It feels like being on a merry-go-round, swiveling on a plastic horse. But this isn't a carnival ride. This horse doesn't stop moving, it increases its speed every second. This horse doesn't make you smile, and you don’t call out your mom so she can take a picture.

This horse makes you cry and hope to not reunite with your mom in heaven. 

You reach for the ejection handles, an incredibly easy task if you weren't spinning around like a falling leaf. You manage to grab the handles, tugging on them with all you've got. But it doesn't work. 

You're still trapped inside the plane. 

"Nova?"

"Bull, it’s not working. I can't pull out."

"What? Try again, idiot!" 

"Steve, I've been trying over and over, and it doesn't work!" You cry out, repeating the same movement over and over again, but it's useless. You're going to crash. You'll burn in. 

You feel a pain in your belly. You rub it, feeling a bump that shouldn't be there. Looking down, you see your baby bump and feel your two babies kicking with their small feet. Are they scared too? Are they aware that they're going to die before they're even born? 

No. This can't be happening. You aren’t supposed to be here. You aren’t supposed to fly while pregnant. What are you doing here? Why are you risking your babies’ lives? 

How can you save your kids when you can’t save yourself? 

“We’re gonna crash!” 

That’s not Steve’s voice. That’s Bradley’s. 

Are you going to lose everything? 

You scream even louder, as if your voice has the power to stop time and save you, your children, and the pilot in the front seat.

A hand touches your face, it’s big, cold, and calloused. It’s comforting.  

“Come on, baby, wake up. It’s just a dream.” 

You jolt awake, with a sore throat and tired muscles. It was all a dream. You’re okay. The babies are okay. Bradley, who is sitting in front of you with a frown and a worried expression, is also okay. 

“Are you here with me?” He asks, voice tight and eyes darting over your body, as if looking for any sign of harm.

You nod, sitting up in bed while biting your lip. “Did I wake you up again?” 

“I don’t care about that,” He says, caressing your leg over the covers. “Look Ash, I’ve tried to wave it off, but I can’t ignore it anymore. For the last few weeks, you have woken up in the middle of the night, screaming, like someone was skinning you alive. I need to know what's happening.” Bradley demands with a soft voice, not wanting to impose but making clear that he deserves to know the reason why he has been running to your room for the last days, scared that your water broke and you were having contractions or something like that. 

He really deserves to know. 

"I dream about my accident. Every single night. It’s not a dream, just a nightmare playing on loop over and over again. Even though this time was slightly different, it was even more terrifying." You explain in a weak voice, wincing at the frail creature you've become. 

"The accident where you got your new call sign?"

"Yeah. There were a lot of people who thought that I killed Bull." Your confession makes Bradley clench his jaw. Just the thought of people pointing fingers at you and calling you a murderer makes him sick. You’re not a murderer. Anyone with two eyes could see that.

“I heard that the ejection system failed.”

“Yeah, it didn’t work. Steve tried to land on a snowy plain, thinking that the snow would soften the impact…” You start, the images flooding your mind and making your body tremble. “And the worst part is that I’m glad he died.” 

Bradley takes a deep breath, and you can see in his eyes, lit up by the small lamp on the bedside table, that he’s pondering whether to ask or not about the meaning behind your words. “Why?” 

“He was my partner. We had been dating for over a year, and everything was good at first, but... he became obsessed. He thought I was cheating on him. He wanted to know where I was all the time, who I talked with, and when I got home…” You don’t know that you’re crying until Rooster cleans your face with the sleeve of his hoodie. “Oh shit, sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry.” He sits closer, rubbing a hand over your arm. “Want to stop talking about this and go back to sleep?” 

“No, no, no. I need you to know that I’m not a murderer.” You insist, grabbing his hand, and he nods reassuringly. "I figured if I moved with him, he'd stop being so... controlling." 

“It got worse?” 

“Ten times worse. He checked my phone every night and said horrible things about me in front of the other members of the team… It became too much."

"This might be the most stupid question I could ask right now, but why didn't you leave him?" 

You turn your head away from him, both ashamed and scared of his reaction. You don't want to be an idiot in his eyes. Not because you care about his opinion. Well, that too. But he's the biological father of these babies, and if he wanted, he could take them away in the blink of an eye if he thought for a second that you're not sane enough to raise a baby, let alone two. 

He's not like that. He wants to help you, not destroy you. 

"He made me believe that I needed him. Like I was nothing without him. I became…" 

"Dependent." 

"Yeah. I thought that if I was good enough, he wouldn't be angry with me again. He wouldn't yell, he wouldn't throw my things away." 

The wheels in Bradley's head are turning so quickly that you can almost hear them. He doesn't even blink for a split second. "You really thought his behavior was your fault." 

"Nobody knows how these things can mess with your head until you find yourself in that situation." Bradley's fingers caress your cheek, not sure if he is wiping away a tear or just providing the necessary physical comfort for both of you. 

"Being glad of your abuser's death doesn't mean you're a bad person, Hen. You're just glad your suffering is over." 

"You think so?" You whimper, his words breaking a wall around your soul—a wall built long ago. 

"I know so. I kinda… know what you went through. Had some similar experience."

"Penny… told me a bit of Afghanistan." You confess, feeling guilty about knowing his secret. "But she was not gossiping! She wanted me to know that you might have nightmares.” 

It’s not entirely true, but he doesn’t need to know what kind of conversations you have with the girls. 

“Nightmares end when you wake up. Memories are still there, but they can’t hurt you anymore.” His voice is empty and monotone. These words sound like something he has said hundreds of times. A mantra. 

Something that he himself can’t fully believe, but repeats day after day, waiting for it to actually mean something. 

“They hurt you, right?” 

Bradley sighs, letting his upper body fall into the mattress. “Sometimes it feels like this world takes more strength than it gave me.” 

“Want to talk about it?” You offer, your hand moving itself to lock in his hair, as if your limbs had a will of their own, as if your body didn’t need to ask your brain to function. 

He closes his eyes, a small smile curving the right side of his mouth. “Not today. I don’t want you to have more nightmares. You should sleep, tomorrow is a big day.” 

“Yeah, it is…” You watch him stand up from the bed, kiss your head softly, and walk to the door. “Bradley.” 

“Yeah?” He says, turning around before leaving the room. 

“Did you call me Hen?” You inquire, trying not to laugh.

He frowns, looking at the floor, mentally going over the conversation you just had. “Did I?” You nod, and he snorts. “The guys have been calling you Mama Hen for a while. It stuck with me, apparently.” 

“It’s… better than Ash.”

“Be careful; you allow me to call you Hen, and that makes you an official member of the Bradshaw family. We’re all birds.” He warns you with a teasing smile. 

“Oh, I can tell by the middle names you got for the babies.” You retort, lying down and covering yourself with the blankets. 

“Hey, they’re cool! I know a few people that will cry when they find out about them.” He sighs and looks at you with the softest smile someone has ever given you. How can a man who has gone through so much be so gentle and caring? 

How can that poor tortured soul be taking care of three human beings when he’s the one that should be taken care of? 

“I… I want you to know that you can always rely on me. We’re parents of these babies, but we’re friends. I’ll be there to listen to whatever you need to say. Even if you just need to rant, I’ll be there.” You state, holding his gaze. 

“Thank you, Mama Hen.” The name makes you chuckle and shake your head. “Good night.”

“Good night, Rooster.” 

#top gun maverick #top gun x reader #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun fanfiction #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster top gun #rooster fanfic #rooster x reader #rooster fluff #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw fic #top gun rooster #top gun

[rowretro]

✧𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍✧

WARNINGS: sexual refferences, mentions of drugs

✧taglist✧: @heeseung-min @jaeneohee @lovingvoidgoatee @neruishoon (anyone I may have missed)

✧CHAPTER 13✧

It's been quite a few months since the babies were born and the couple were slowly getting used to their sleepless nights. "So this thing with Ryujin you're actually serious about it for once?" Sunghoon asked as he rocked baby Anaya, who silently snuggled into Sunghoon. "Yeah, and I'm selling my first house as a realtor today. Everything was going well until one of my exes ruined it-" Heeseung sighed "Which one?" y/n asked snickering as baby Avaani smiled up at her mom, imitating her snicker. "I forgot her name- one before Yeji, after Nina-" Heeseung sighed.

"Oh the delusional one? what did she do?" y/n asked as she fed Avaani. "Well I was showing the house to a couple who have 2 kids, and everything was going well until she showed up, made up some lies about the home I was showing and stole my people." Heeseung complained, to which Avaani whined. "Doesn't she have a showing tonight?" Y/n asked as Hee groaned.

"Ugh I get it she's showing a stupid house with my people. they were mine but you know what? I'm a new Hee, I'm not going to do dirty work like she did because Im a nice realtor." Heeseung added "Or are you a little pussy?" y/n said as Sunghoon glared at her "y/n... language- babies pick up on these words yk?!" he warned. Y/n rolled her eyes as she turned back to Hee "Sometimes you've got to be a snake." the girl said as Heeseung shook his head "Fraid not y/n... anyways... I'll be off now." Hee said as he left the house.

"We gotta help him out" y/n said as Sunghoon frowned "You only get one chance to go out tonight and you want to waste it on your brother's delusional ex?" Sunghoon asked. "Babe we owe him... I mean well you did impregnate his babysister" y/n pointed out as she rocked the baby "How do my little angels like to spend the day with uncle sunooo yayyyy!" Y/n said in a baby voice as Sunghoon sighed loudly.

Love can make people do crazy things. For Sunghoon, he has killed many people and even tortured them for love. Never did he ever think he'd find himself covered in fake tattoos, in a ripped tank top which made him look practically topless, reeking of pot with a funky accent. Never would he have let his darling wife wear extremely short denim shorts with an extremely revealing nipply top, her eyebrows overdone and lips overlined, thick eyelashes, and a bottle of vodka in hand.

"Ready babe?" she asked as Sunghoon rolled his eyes "Lets get this done and over with." Sunghoon simply said "HEY Y'ALL, YOU'RE A BUNCH A LIL CUTIES HUH~ WE MADE YA SOME BROWNIES, MY HUBBY'S BEST AT THOSE YK?" Y/n squealed, walking in there seeing the shocked face of the realtor "AH SHARON RIGHT? THE REALTOR EX WITH 40 CATS AND OXY?" the girl added as Sunghoon followed. "Ah y'all must be our new neighbours, this lil hot junk is my wife~ got married after she dropped outta highschool~" He said, playing with his fake tongue piercing.

"So.. our new neighbours huh~" the wife said with a shaky voice, shudderring as she saw the clothes y/n wore "You look a lot like that hot CEO-" the woman added "I ain't no CEO, Am just a doctor... i prescribe drugs- weed, oxy, coke u name it we got it~ they're in those brownies we made" He said as they just blinked. "TRUST ME GAL THIS HOUSE IS PERFECT, ME AND MY HUSBAND HAD THE BEST SEX OF OUR LIFE IN HERE~" she yelled, twirling her hair as she chewed her gum staring up at Hoon.

"Ok Wow that makes our decisions easier-" the woman mumbles. "Oh baby, it was right here on this sofa where we concieved our 7nth son remember?" y/n added as Sunghoon tried to hide his real reaction, while the couple stared in shock. "Oh my god babe remember when the cops arrested you in that kitchen. I bet there.s still some coke n dried blood left over~" The girl added as Sunghoon agreed with her. "Hey speaking of these memories really are making me feel something huh..." Sunghoon trailed off, as he roughly caught y/n in an open mouthed kiss leaving the couple mortified "Yepp I think this house is definitely off the list, lets go back to that other realtor." The husband said, dragging his wife away.

Upon arriving home, Sunghoon took a long shower, while y/n comfortably played with their babies "Took me a while but finally got all that fake ink off, and god my body feels weird without those fake piercings, god the things I do for you y/n..." he sighed. Y/n smiled, hugging him tightly "Hee called me and he was so happy he sold that house coz of us, he bought you those ice skates you always wanted... and well, maybe in you're down for it next week..." Y/n trailed off as she handed him a box.

"Open it" she said with a smile, the man opened it and a big smile plastered his lips "You're finally gonna ice skate with me??? and the twins?" he said with a smile as he picked up the matching tiny skates "God they look so cute but aren't the a little too big?" Hoon asked "it's for when they're a little older, and they know how to walk a-and if they don't fit I'll buy something better" she said, smiling as Sunghoon kissed her, lovingly. His plan was to lock her in the basement and punish her for wearing something so provocative... but how could he when she's so sweet?

✧𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍✧

#enhypen imagines #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #enhypen ff #engene #sunghoon enhypen #park sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon #sunghoon #sunghoon hard hours #sunghoon angst #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon yandere #yandere sunghoon #enhypen yandere #yandere enha #yandere enhypen #yandere #sung hoon #hoon #demon au #demon #enhypen au #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fic #enhypen fluff

[h-harleybaby]

Another stick of truth request because

Grand Wizard Cartman x Princess Reader Romantic Headcanons

But like. A girl boss princess??? She kicks ass. She'd kick my ass, she'd kick your ass,,

And cartman is just completely enhanced

- men kisser anon

Literally perfect I love it

Jen says Cartman would be mean and wouldn't let you be a princess but I don't care because it's cute

Grand Wizard Cartman x (badass) Princess reader

• Honestly, Eric was really reluctant to have you as a princess at first because Kupa Keep already had princess Kenny but after Kenny literally begged Cartman to let you be a princess he finally agreed

• (Like in the other hcs) So you're Princess Kenny's sister, tbh you wanted to be a thief but Kenny wouldn't let you. Princess Kenny desperately wanted for someone else to be royal too to take some of the heat off her

• So you ended up being a warrior princess, much like your sister princess Kenny

• And because you're a princess, Cartman almost immediately said he would be the one protecting you rather than a knight (because he has a big ass crush on you which is a huge part of the reason why he kept bothering you to join them in roleplaying), honestly you didn't need it tho considering you had a battle axe

• If anything it slowly started becoming you protecting Cartman but he refuses to admit it

• Tbh he really just wants a reason to be around you/follow you around without seeming like he has a crush on you

• Anyways- no one even knows where the hell you got a battle axe but no one is questioning it, especially because you know how to use it REALLY well

• The first time you guys got ambushed you beat the elves asses before Cartman even got the chance to try doing a spell (cough hitting them with his staff a bunch of times cough)

• He probably takes any and all credit for any elven forces that were defeated but you don't mind, it gives you the element of surprise

• Honestly tho, Eric's probably a little scared of you. And ya know what? He should be

• You're probably some sort of cracked healer tho, and he makes you heal him all the time

• He refuses to let anyone else heal him and you can't for the life of you figure out why

• Hear me out, he made this a thing but your kisses heal him. He just really wanted to find excuses for him to get you to kiss his cheek

• Even when he's almost full health, he won't stop bothering you and taps his cheek until you kiss it. He's purposefully tripped or got punched so you can kiss him and he plays it off by saying your kisses are gross but he loves them and you know it

• Whenever y'all start dating, Cartman refuses to let it be known in game. He probably says it's so you don't get kidnapped but everyone knows you guys are dating

• He keeps trying to be sneaky and kiss you when he thinks no one's looking, but there's always someone

• You're the older one out of you and princess Kenny (by a couple of months) so that means you're technically next in line for queen or something, so ofc someone has to be watching you

• What's funny is that instead of you getting kidnapped, it was actually Eric who got kidnapped!

• He hated it and was cursing and yelling the whole time

• And he sulked the entire time you fought Kyle for him

• He was the one supposed to be saving you! Not the other way around... stupid Kyle and his stupid logic

• Of course you had Kyle beat tho, no one really expects you to be as strong as you are considering Eric for the most part uses you as his personal healer

• One time you and him were making out and Kenny came to check on you, poor Kenny. The princess was traumatized and had Eric yell at her to get out while you were laughing at her

• Another time, Kyle had sent Stan to go kidnap you so he could trade you for the stick of truth but that backfired

• It was a complete disaster

• Not only did Stan fail to get you, you beat him up AND Cartman teabagged Stan because he thought it was funny

• He then sent Butters to the elf kingdom to send a message more or less saying "suck my big fat hairy balls -the grand wizard AND the future queen of kupa keep <3"

• Tbh he probably wasn't the happiest that you signed it as the future queen of Kupa Keep but he couldn't argue with it since you technically were

• We know he's consistently lost the stick of truth and almost every time you would have to beat up on the elves while he tries stealing it back

• It never works out and you always have to heal him

I don’t think there’s any spelling mistakes but most of the time I was proof reading this and writing it I was half asleep

#south park x reader #cartman x reader #eric cartman x reader #south park x reader headcanons #h harleybaby needs help #eric cartman x y/n #Harley’s anons <33 #stick of truth x reader #Harley’s favs #harley’s requests!

[super-ion]

So I've spent quite a bit of mental energy the last couple days on character creation for an upcoming Pathfinder game (as I do). So of course, in true Char fashion I had to throw a drabble together to get into her head (directly inspired by a scene by @the-sword-lesbian for her character).

She's a half orc inventor with a fighter flavor. She's 6'6" and built like a tank. She's a nerd with special interests. Her dump stats are wis and cha.

***

They spot her in the back of the seedy tavern. She's hunched over a table surrounded by an array of incomprehensible tools. Half a meal sits forgotten on the edge of the table. Her brow is furrowed in concentration and she chews on her bottom lip as her fingers work at the clockwork before her.

The lead bounty hunter casts a look at the barkeep, who frowns and disappears into the kitchen. A few of the more observant patrons clear out and the remainder soon follow.

Not her though, she's too busy. She is absolutely completely focused at the task at hand.

She's big, she is half orc after all, but she has a roundness to her cheeks, a softness in her shoulders. She has a few faint scars, maybe broke her nose once, but that all might just be from lab accidents. She gives off the air of an academic type, some well fed student who got too many ideas about adventure in her head.

“Akhana Greystone?”

“Huh?” she replies, jumping slightly at the interruption.

She peers at them through light brown eyes, almost golden. One of the hunters, the newbie, decides the color reminds him of when there are storms high in the mountains and the river is fully saturated with the high desert silt.

Another of the hunters notes the ribbons woven into the messy braid of dark hair, bright pink and purple. She's brought in a few marks in her career and has never seen anything so frivolous.

This job is guaranteed easy money.

The mark makes an awkward smile at the three of them, not entirely sure who to address.

“Uh… yeah, Akhana. That's me,” she replies. “Y'all need any tinker work done or anythin? I'm kind of between jobs right now, but I'm not above a little bit o’ freelance if it keeps my belly full.”

She looks at them hopefully for a moment before her smile slips at their expressions.

The leader glances back at his more seasoned companion with a raised eyebrow, silently asking if this is the right person. She frowns dubiously as she nods.

“I had a pretty good gig goin’ for a spell there,” she nervously continues, starting to ramble as she returns her attention to her work. “Gunrunning and all that. Lotta time to be alone in my head to think about designs and it pays a might bit better’n working the forges. Hurts a lot less than the fightin’ ring too. But of course, somebody had ta go and ruin it. Jerk wanted a cut of the money, like we're some kind of criminal enterprise, if you can believe that! Okay, I mean, yeah, it's technically illegal and everything, but it's not like we we're doing anything wrong, ya know? Just gettin’ supplies out to good honest folk tryin’ ta eek out a living out in the wild. So what if some of those supplies just happened to be black powder weapons of dubious provenance? I tell ya what though, Ma ain't to happy about my face being on a wanted poster, her bein’ a former marshal ‘n all that…”

She trails off, perhaps realizing that she effectively just offered a confession to a trio of strangers. She looks around the room and seems surprised to find it empty. She squints at the three of the bounty hunters in turn, sizing them up.

“Aw heck,” she says. “You fella’s are here about the bounty, ain't ya?”

The leader gives a curt nod.

“Come in quietly,” he says. “Nobody has to get hurt. It'll be easier for all of us.”

She runs her tongue along one of her tusks, considering for a moment.

“Nah,” she says finally and returns to her work, slipping the last few gears and pieces of wires into the gauntlet.

The bounty hunters exchange a baffled glance.

“Ma'am-”

She holds up a finger to silence him. She clicks a mechanism shut and spins a dial, listening intently to some unknown response. She gives a quick nod, apparently satisfied, she starts packing up her tools.

The leader clears his throat.

“Ma'am, we're here for the bounty on your head-”

“Yeah, I know,” she interrupts. “I heard ya. Answer’s still no.”

Only after the last tool is carefully placed in its place does she uncurl herself from her hunched posture. As she squares her shoulders and cracks her neck, the hunters realize that what they mistook for softness is actually a healthy layer of padding over solid muscle.

The hunter on the left, the newbie, takes a nervous step back.

She slips the gauntlet on her wrists. Something clicks and whirrs. There's a spark and a tiny puff of blue smoke from the gauntlet.

She grins, her eyes filling with a manic sort of delight.

#my writing #writers on tumblr #ttrpg character

[glaobobotalrynn]

Ayo shoutout to fairytale retellings that are written for actual preteens/young teens, here are some of my favorites;

Note note: These ones specifically are all appropriate for young audiences, say a hyperlexic little girl with ADHD who had The Hunger Games given to her in 3rd grade because her teacher couldn't keep up with her thirst for pages (just a nonspecific lil example :D) so if you're a parent or teacher reading this post I hope this helps!

Land of Stories by Chris Colfer- of course. What's not to love? I mean I lost a little steam in the last book (there's six) but heyyyy the first one can be read alone and then if you want more lore you can keep going if you wanna.

East by Edith Pattou- Ok fine, our main girl is giving a little bit of not-like-other-girls (Purple eyes? really?) but it's such a fun fucking reread, I feel like some of my superstitious things are validated when I do read it. East of the Sun and West of the Moon hasn't been retold to death so this is awesome.

Twice Upon a Time; Rapunzel, the One with All the Hair by Wendy Mass- Mouthful of a title but I STILL think back to this one all the time and laugh. It's short, it's cute, it's funny, they make the prince and Rapunzel into more normal kids, this one is a great light read. The other ones in the series are probably just as good.

Oh yeah forgot to mention these other books are THICK.

Just Ella by Margaret Peterson Haddix- I've been rereading this one since I was small and I still notice new things every time I read it. I'm so mad I marked up my copy because I have a gorgeous one from before they ruined the cover with modern art. If you look it up, I have the one where it's like half peeled back to show Ella as a peasant. Also a skinny book.

Ever After High's book series, mostly written by Shannon Hale- Did y'all know EAH had books when we were younger? Hale is one of my favorite authors, I ate these UP once I got my hands on all of them. Princess Academy was one of my favorites as a kid so finding these when I was like 11-12 was GREAT. They're long enough to keep me busy and super engaging. Ya gotta know- Briar's my favorite character in the books. Closely followed by Cedar.

Hale's Rapunzel's Revenge is SUPER good too. Graphic Novel. I'm a very huge Hale fan.

I can't think of any others right now but if I do I'll reblog and tack them on!

#Ever after high #ever after high books #EAH #book reccs #land of stories #Just Ella #margaret peterson haddix #Chris Colfer #Edith Pattou #Wendy Mass #Shannon Hale #Shannon Hale appreciation #book rec list #Rapunzel's Revenge #Fairytale retelling #fairytale au #no seriously i'm not kidding I was indeed handed The Hunger Games when I was 8 #my mom was piiiised #she started me on the Harry Potters right after that event #fuck jkr #i want to go home oh my god this class sucks #bro help i don't want to be in here #aaaaaaaaaaaaaa

[kawaiithinglover]

Chapter one

Tw: mention of a death book, and talking about wanting people dead.

Her/She pronouns

Maybe ooc but I tried to make them like the series

------------------------------------------------------------

"Wednesday when will we leave this horrible place?" Y/n asked her sister. "Soon I can't stand Enid and her colorful bright colors" Wednesday said. "Sis I know your secret. I know you like Enid so don't try to hide it." Y/n said in her cold voice. "Hello guys! I know Ajax made a bad first impression of y'all." Enid said coming over to Wednesday and Y/n.

"Oh he didn't make a bad impression he made a death wish" Y/n said. "What do you mean?" Enid said confused but also scared. "After he said what he said about us Y/n wrote him in her book to kill" Wednesday said.

"B-Book T-To K-Kill?" Enid asked scared. "I have a black book that I write if I want someone dead." Y/n said with a smile. "You mean a-a-never mind" Enid said. "I have to go to the mall to get a dress for the ReveN. Oh wait! You guys can come get a dress with me just in case!" Enid said happily.

"No" Wednesday said in her cold kind of voice. "Oh please Wednesday, Y/n!" Enid said getting a little upset. "Don't make your girlfriend sad Weds" Y/n said in Wednesday mind. "She is not my girlfriend Y/n. The next time you say that I'm going to cut you and feed you to Pusley pet" Wednesday said back in Y/n mind.

Y/n just rolled her eyes at her sister's insult with a little smirk. "Ugh....If we go will you leave us alone?" Wednesday asked Enid who nodded excitedly. "Okay we will go" Wednesday said not excited. "Yay!" Enid said as she pulled Wednesday hand just leaving Y/m smirking. Until she realized she is far behind her sister and Enid.

As soon as Wednesday and Y/n got into the mall they were blindsided by the colorful colors. "So many colors it hurts" Y/n said. "For once I agree" Wednesday said as Y/n was shocked. Y/n couldn't believe her sister agreed with her for once in her life.

Shopping went well as Wednesday, Enid and Y/n got their dresses. "I hope Ajax asks me!" Enid said when they went to their dorm. "Y/n who do you hope to ask you?" Enid asked. "No one. I like no one in this school and will never like no one" Y/n said in a stoic voice.

"What about you Wednesday?" Enid asked Wednesday. "Like my sister said no one I don't wanna go to that dance. I wanna leave Nevermore and I will find a way to leave" Wednesday said with no emotion in her voice like always. As soon as Enid was about to say something a knock was heard from the door.

Y/n gets up to open it as soon as she opens it Xavier was shown smiling. "Oh hi Y/n! I need to talk to you." Xavier said as Y/n just nodded closing the door and following Xavier as he lead her somewhere. "Would you like to go to the ReveN with me Y/n?" Xavier asked when he stopped in the middle of a hall. "I don't plan on going to that dance. But since I feel that you seem desperate I will go." Y/n said looking into Xavier's eyes.

They both lean in about to kiss but Y/n stop herself. "I don't do romantic stuff goodbye Xavier" Y/n said as she left Xavier dumbfounded. "So how did everything go!?" Enid asked as she opened the door for Y/n. "Everything went fine he asked me to the RaveN. I just said Yes because I don't really know and we were about to do something I don't know what it's called." Y/n said as Enid eyes widened.

"You two were about to kiss silly!" Enid said excitedly. "Ew." Wednesday said writing on the typewriter for her book. "I left before that happened I hate romantic stuff especially when my parents are being romantic to each other" Y/n said as Wednesday mind her business. "Okay but admit that you like Xavier Y/n! I can clearly see it in ya!" Enid said trying to make Y/n say that she likes Xavier.

"I don't like him Enid" Y/n said sitting on her bed. "Are you sure Y/n?" Enid asked as Y/n glare at her. "Yes I'm sure Enid" Y/n said laying down. "Okay then" Enid said shugging her shoulders. "Are y'all done? I have to focus on my writing" Wednesday said as Enid gave her a small 'yes'.

By the time you know it everyone is asleep but not Wednesday and Y/n. "So.....Going to the ReveN with Xavier?" Wednesday asked her sister. "Um...Yes" Y/n said. "Why?" Wednesday asked. "I don't know he asked and I said yes and that's it" Y/n said shugging her shoulders. "Hmmm....Okay then" Wednesday said as she lay down on her bed. "Goodnight Weds" Y/n said laying down about to go to sleep. "Good night y/n/n" Wednesday said as you both went to sleep.

You can repost and use my stuff but ask me first before you do that. (You can only if I get the credit for my work because I will just say yes anyways)

#xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier x you #wednesday 2022 #addams reader #wednesday addams #wednesday enid