#when he said how to fix a water pipe I was like ????? what are you watching

[peachesofteal]

Light On - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader Prompt: Your apartment floods. Inspired by and for @liliumbosniacum

"I need to take leave."

Simon's phone is pressed against his face, one hand holding the device, the other with a canvas bag in his hand, it's contents overflowing: blankets, baby clothes, your pillow.

"Everything alright?" Price sounds suspicious, but more curious than anything, and Simon sighs.

"Neighbor's flat flooded. She's got nowhere else to go so I'm letting 'em stay with me for a while." Price, thank fucking god, doesn't push it any further, disconnecting with a rumble about checking in with him next week, wishing him a happy holiday, and a parting good luck.

When he hangs up, you're standing hesitantly in his doorway, pile of clothes in your arms.

"That the last of it?" He asks, and you nod.

"Are y-you sure this is okay?" You're still upset, shaken, and he doesn't blame you. You were terrified when you woke up to bone chilling, ankle deep water, frantically shouting about a burst pipe into the phone over Emmaline's shrieks.

"It's okay, sweetheart. I've got plenty of room." He does. His flat is larger than yours, and though they're both two bedroom floor plans, his bedrooms are bigger, and he has two bathrooms, compared to your one. "I got the crib reassembled in the guest room." He motions to the door that's half opened, a few bags of Emmaline's stuff collected on the floor.

"Thank you." you murmur, and then step forward, burying your face in his chest. He holds you there, rubbing your back, working his thumb into the knot that sits at the base of your neck. “At least we saved the tree,” you laugh, wet and sad, and he hums, bowing to press his lips to your forehead.

“I’m sorry love.”

“It’s alright.” You shrug. “Nothing I could control.” You’ve got a point there, and he appreciates the approach, marvels at your ability to not be angry or frustrated with your neighbor, even though it wasn’t really their fault as well. He’s irritated for both of you, anxious over visualizing what would have happened if the chunk of the ceiling that fell was misplaced and landed on you, or Emma.

You pull away, face twisted up into something that looks painful, tears on your lash line, and he frowns. “Hey, hey. It’s okay, sweetheart, c’mon. It’s alright.”

“I know.” You cry, clamping your hand over the bridge of your nose and trying to turn away. “It’s just all her gifts we-were in my room and now they’re ruined, and-“

“Okay, so we’ll get more. We still have plenty of time.” He reassures, rubbing his palms up and down your arms until you come back to him, letting him fold you back into his embrace. “We’ll fix it. Don’t worry.”

“We will?” You sniffle, and he nods.

“I’m on leave, until after the holiday, so I’ll be around, we can go shopping and replace everything. It’s going to be alright. I promise.” That word slips out of him again, promise. I promise, just like he told you this morning when you were frantic and he said it was okay that you stayed with him, I promise, just like he assured last night when you apologized for Emmaline crying for most the evening. “Okay?” His chin rests on the top of your head, and he turns to kiss you, the touch as soft as he can manage. You hum, and then sigh into him.

“Okay Simon.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No.” His refusal is immediate, and you look at him in near exasperation.

“Simon I can’t kick you out of your bed! You’re too big for the couch, anyway, and I don’t mind, I’ve slept on a couch plenty. Plus I’ll be able to hear better, when Emmaline wakes-“

“Sweetheart.” You’re in the living room, bouncing Emmaline in your arms, walking back and forth in front of the fireplace. She’s wearing a red and white striped onesie, like a candy cane, and Simon chuckles when she makes grabby hands at him as he approaches. You sigh, and he tucks his hands under her, lifting her away and into his arms, pleased at how you instantly relax and stretch your back and shoulders in response. “Think you’re getting too big for mama, baby girl.” You roll your eyes, playfully knocking your elbow into his side, and he grunts. “You’re not kicking me out of my own bed.”

“No?” You turn with a hand on your hip, other one holding a half full bottle.

“No, well. I mean-“ he falters, suddenly losing his confidence. “I’m happy to let you have it, or…” He can’t get the words right, can’t communicate what it is he wants to tell you, too worried about scaring you off or being too forward, pushing you too far.

“Or?” You look so pretty, standing in his flat, your belongings, Emma’s, strewn about, just your presence alone making this place feel more like a home than it ever has before. He feels dizzy, overflowing with emotion when Emma lays her head down on his chest, and you smile at her, looking back up at him, delicate, sweet smile on your lips. He bends, tilting your face upwards to meet his, lips ghosting against one another as Emma coos from his arms.

“Or… we can share it.”

#me slowly pressing my dolls together like #peaches writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #light on

[celestialwhoree]

More Simon X Single mom!Reader💕🌙

Based on this drabble😚

wc: 1.1k

You're so, painfully reluctant to ask Simon for help. He offers, frequently, to help you get bedded in to your small flat, which only now, finally free from the clutches of your desperation, do you understand why it was so cheap. The first time he comes over for dinner he notes the way your kitchen faucet takes ages to put out hot water, and honestly, it took a fair bit of blindly tapping (smacking) random pipes to get any water at all. He seems to take issue with not only the lack of amenities that could help you get settled, but also the fact that the few basics that you do have access to don't work. You're a single mom, with a three year old daughter, and his sense of justice has always been at war with his longing search for peace and isolation.

Simon doesn't have much to do when he's not deployed, Price putting him on some kind of mandatory break after the last mission went south, as did his mental health. Because of said lack of hobbies, work and education, Simon finds himself doing literally whatever he can think of to occupy his mind, to forget about what happened in October - if that means helping you string a wreath on the front of your apartment door and lugging a christmas tree up the stairs for you, that's what he'll do. You'll be the first to admit that you're cash poor - buying this house ate up the majority of your savings, and the rest you're currently blowing through supporting your daughter whilst also trying to get a job, very contradictory to the fact that you're also trying to lay low.

The man that lives next door to you is no fool, not as blind and imperceptive as you wish he'd be. You see the way his eyes occaionally shoot to the fading tan line on your left ring finger and the small, raised scar on your bicep. Occasionally, he himself wishes that he wouldn't see the bags under your eyes or the way you clutch onto your daughter like she'll be ripped away from you - maybe then he wouldn't feel such a sense of duty to you. Maybe he wouldn't lie awake at night thinking of the fact that he's spent his life plagued by gunfire to protect innocent women and children, and now faced with the people he vowed to lay down his life for, all he can do is offer to fix your blocked hot water pipe.

So, when you stand on his doorstep, sniffling down fat tears threatening to spill, apologising profusley when you look up to see his confused expression, he can't help but to engulf you, and your wailing daughter at your hip, into what he can only hope is a comforting embrace. "Y' a'right? Whats goin' on?" He murmurs, a hint of panic in his voice. Simon knows the feeling of your past coming back to haunt you all too well.

"I'm sorry I just - the oven is broken, and I need to make her dinner and bath her and put her down to bed -" Is all you can manage before you're hiccuping into the hand not supporting your equally as distraught baby girl.

For a second he just stops, his brain short circuits as he struggles to comprehend the fact that you're coming to him for help. He can't understand the way you lay your soul bare before him, not when he's so distant, so intimidating, and you're oh so soft, lovely as a morning songbird and as warm as sun soaked sand.

"Would you mind looking at it?" Even you recognise how pathetic you sound, standing here practically grovelling at your neighbours door, but apparently it works when he's guiding you back to the front door you stupidly left open in your panic, pulling out a kitchen chair and easing you down as you sit between utter misery and the panic which filled your lungs like a puncture in a life raft when one little part of your routine you'd become so reliant on fell out of place.

"Gas's out." He tells you softly, like any more bad news might make you shatter completely, and the thought of delivering that blow makes him feel physically sick. "Right - Right, no gas." You murmur, brain whirring at a million miles a second in order to work out what to do next.

"You could use my oven? I'll call the gas company in the morning and have them install a new bottle."

His words make you stop, processing his offer, his generosity, the generosity of a man who's never once been cruel or rough or mean to you, and you give a little grateful nod, cooing to your daughter about how you're going on an adventure to Simon's place. The way he scoops her up so that you can stuff a bag with all of the things you need to make dinner, bouncing her on his hip to stop her wailing makes your insides warm in an unfamiliar way, one that you promptly shake off as you follow him across the threshold of his undecorated apartment, trying not to stare at your surroundings as you're guided to a kitchen that you're sure is far more functional than your own.

The way Simon doesn't have any cartoon channels on his TV, so he grabs his laptop instead, plopping your daughter down on the couch with a blanket around her shoulders and some kind of kids show playing on the screen makes you ache, and you can't imagine how a man with no kids of his own could be so good with yours. There's a softness to him despite his physical body being comprised of muscle and sinew and scars, his soul is gentle. He's gentle with you, and he's gentle with your daughter, and that's all that you can ask for.

You make enough dinner for the three of you, mostly to thank Simon for his hospitality, but also because you're starving and the meat needs eating. When you ask where the cutlery is, he gives a little chuckle, grabbing out two sets for you and him, as well as your daughter's little blue Peter Rabbit spoon and tray. He helps you dish up dinner, and when you go to sit at the table, he steers you into the lounge.

"You're not worried about food on the couch?" You squeak in utter confusion, to which he gives a laugh and plops down on one end, placing your daughters tray before her where she sits in the middle of the two of you, happily scarfing down her dinner and watching whatever Simon could find on such short notice.

When you inevitably fall asleep on his couch, your daughter doing the same, Simon sets a blanket over the two of you before going into the kitchen to call the gas company, putting down his card details to pay for the new bottle. He's happy to cough up fifty quid that he's sure you don't have if it means not seeing his girls cry again.

#cod mwii #cod mw2 #tf 141 #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #Simon ghost Riley x f!reader #Simon ghost Riley x yn #Simon Riley x reader #simon riley x f!reader #Simon Riley x yn #Simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x f!reader #ghost x y/n #ghost simon riley #ghost mw2 #simon riley x you #ghost cod #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley cod #ghost call of duty #cod ghost #cod #cod simon riley #ghost #ghost riley #call of duty #celestialwhoree #Single mom!reader x Simon Riley

[llamagoddessofficial]

How would Farmer Sans handle hearing that MC was sick? Maybe they usually meet up a certain time while managing their morning chores and they’re just.. not there, only for him to later find that they’re bedridden

"hey, pumpkin."

The sound of Sans' voice, regardless of how soft it was, made you panic.

You sat bolt upright from your spot curled into the couch, jolting out of your strange fever dream. A cooling pack fell off your head, and a blanket you didn’t remember grabbing slipped from your shoulders to your lap.

Immediately, you could tell that you weren’t on your home couch. You didn’t recognise the blanket someone had tucked you under. You weren’t cold, you couldn’t smell the usual mix of dust and gradually fading damp - in fact, there were many wonderful scents mingling in the warm air, soup and tea and a sweet bread aroma that made your stomach rumble. 

It certainly wasn’t where you expected to wake up, after you fell asleep in front of the dodgy TV once the painkillers finally kicked in. This was someone else’s couch. And after a few bleary moments, you recognised it all. 

... It was Sans’ couch. You were in his house.

You looked up a little to see the man himself, as handsome as ever, leaning over the back of the sofa and looking at you. A gentle flicker of relief passed over his face. 

“rise and shine,” he said, voice as warm as the room. “how’re you feelin’?”

Huh? 

...

Your eyes widened. "S-Sans!?"

Bad decision. At such a sudden vocalisation, your body decided that was the perfect moment to send you into a horrendous coughing fit that made the inside of your throat feel like someone had gone at it with sandpaper.

Sans just put a big gentle hand on your back, letting you work through it, quiet as you hacked your lungs up.

Eventually the coughing eased off; once you had control of your body again, you turned your gaze back to him.

"Y-you...” Your cheeks were starting to burn. “why am I...?"

“you weren’t answerin’ the phone. i got worried.” As he spoke, you kept messing with your shirt, nervously pulling it down over yourself. “came to check on you, an’ you were totally out of it, could barely answer me. i had to go work, but figured i should bring you somewhere me an’ pap can keep an eye on you.”

... Oh no. You put your hands over your face, slowly getting quieter and quieter as the situation dawned on you. “Y-you really didn’t need to...”

“course we did. ain’t safe for you to be so sick all on yer own.”

This was a nightmare. Now, on top of being sick, you were absolutely mortified at Sans seeing you in this state. Tired, achy, sweaty... you were dressed in a stained old shirt and pyjama pants, visibly unshowered and pretty much as ungroomed as one could get. You distinctly remembered throwing stuff on your floor before you fell asleep, too weak to get up and go put it in the garbage - empty blister packs and used, crumpled tissues. Did he see all your dirty trash when he came to find you?

You wanted to melt into the couch. He had seen you delirious and ill, at your absolute greasiest and grossest. Stars, what did he think of you now?

“I-I’ve been out for hours?” you asked.

“mhm.”

Your whole world was coming down around your ears. Why couldn’t Sans have just let you die at home, where no one would see your shame?

“you didn't tell me you were sick,” he said, so quietly you almost didn’t hear. There was a strangely... sullen edge to his tone? 

Your face was on fire. You had already intruded so much on him and his brother’s kindness over the last few weeks. Sans had repaired your stove and water pipes, bought you fresh food from the farm, helped fix a leak in the roof, not to mention when you asked him to stay the night like you were a frightened baby. Now here you were; being sick and disgusting right in the middle of his house. 

Before he could say anything else, you pushed the blanket off you, swinging your legs over the side of the couch and scrambling to your feet.

“I-I should get home,” you said, hoarse.

Immediately, Sans’ brows raised. You didn't look at him for long, walking unsteadily and trying your best to concentrate on not tipping over.

“I’m so sorry to intrude. I’ll just-”

... Your feet went out from underneath you. 

You squeaked, loudly - but Sans didn’t care, he scooped you up like you didn’t weigh a thing. To him, you probably didn’t weigh a thing. You could feel his massive strength through his clothes, and you immediately knew that if he wanted to, he could’ve thrown you straight into the air like a child.

You couldn’t tell if it was the height that was dizzying, how close your face was to his, or if you were just way weaker right now than you realised. But immediately your hands balled in his shirt.

"... easy," he murmured, one arm under your thighs. "i don't bite."

... Your face filled with so much heat it felt as if the tips of your ears were going to set alight. You tried to say something, but when you opened your mouth, literally nothing came out. Not a sound. All you could do was hold on to his shoulders.

Sans’ voice became normal again, jokingly stern. “sorry. not goin’ anywhere on my watch, pet. you need to rest. look at you - yer burnin' up.”

Your whole body had tensed up. But not out of fear. You just stared into his eyelights.

He very gently sat you back down onto the couch, putting the cold pack into your hands. “you stay right there, ok? i’ll getcha some soup. it should be ready by now.”

"O-ok," you helplessly replied.

Sans moved away, disappearing into the kitchen.

...

There wasn't much else you could do, but lay down and put the cooling pack back on your head... trying to figure out how to make your heart slow down.

#llama writes #sans: [uses his 'talking to a scared horse' voice] #mc: Why the fuck am I into this??? WHY AM I INTO THIS?? #also hes upset because he wants to look after her and he doesnt like that she didn't tell him earlier #he likes caring for you. how could you deny him the opportunity #do you HATE HIM???

[tarjapearce]

Lips anon! I'm learning from friends and duolingo lol but I still have a long way to go! Oooh imagine Miguel being furious another parent of another kid on Gabi's team shitalking about her in spanish. About how she's bossy for a girl and that she needs to pipe down and know her place. Mama tries to calm him down but fighting words commence lol

That's a good way to start. Best of lucks ✨

"C'mon Gabi!! Get it baby!!!" You couldn't help but cheer her on as she kicked the ball in between her rival's feet, the ball passing between the kid and Gabi kept on leading with the ball.

A trick you had seen her practicing in the porch with Miguel. Your chest swelled with pride as Gabi passed the ball to another teammate, and they earned a score.

Miguel clapped and cheered her on, mid-time beeped and Gabi's team was called for feedback, some changes and tactic discussion.

Miguel walked towards the team, bottle of water in hand along a towel. Gabi's voice clear as she discussed with her team.

"No, no, pass the ball to Reuben, he is faster and you are injured remember? You are good with passes."

The kid only nodded sheepishly as he held his ankle softly.

Miguel's eyes softened upon hearing her lead, and exchange strategies with her team. She then turned to him and hugged him.

"Esa es mi niña." (That's my girl)

"Pappa, can we go to get some pizza later?"

"Of course." He offered the towel for her, which she used to dry her sweat, and the high pitch whistle rang, announcing the second time of the game.

He was making his way back when a voice made him stop in his tracks.

"¿Esa niña otra vez? ¿Porqué no le dan chance a Víctor?" (That kid again? Why Victor isn't getting a chance instead?)

If he could remember, the man was a parent he often saw at the games, always trash talking other kids in spanish, just because his kid was taking separate training and was doing an improvement on the team. Or so he had said.

He never paid attention to him really, or any other parents except you and of course Gabriela. Who had just been pulled a yellow card as a warning for playing a bit too rough.

"¿Ves? Esa niña es demasiado mandona y agresiva. Tiene que relajarse o si no terminará golpeando a todo el equipo contrario." (See? That girl is too bossy and aggressive. She needs to be tamed down or else she'll end up hitting the whole rival team)

That made his eye twitch in anger.

How dared he speaking about his daughter like this? A blatant disrespect he couldn't allow. He turned on his back and made his way towards the father.

Eyes hardened and fixed on the man that caught his presence a little too late as Miguel loomed over him.

"¿Qué dijiste de mi hija, cabrón?" (What did you just said about my daughter, fucker?)

Even though his tone was calm, each word he spilled were almost biting.

"That she needs to be tamed down." Despite the man's apparent bravado Miguel could hint the crack in his voice.

"¿Porqué no me repites lo que dijiste en mi cara, eh?" (Why don't you repeat what you just said to my face?)

At this point the cheerings had stopped to focus on the exchange between Miguel and the other kid's dad. Your heart leaped to your throat as you saw Miguel almost bearing his teeth at the man as his lips moved angrily.

"Fuck." You approached

"¿Te crees muy chingón para andar insultando a los hijos de los demás, sólo porque crees que nadie te entiende?" (You think you're brave to insult other's kids just cause you think none understands you?)

"Necesitas relajarte, amigo" (You need to relax, man)

The man seemed to hold a hand, creating space between them, the kids had stopped playing as they also focused on what was going on.

You held his hand and tried to pull him away.

"Let's go" You mumbled but his angered self ignored you.

"No soy tu amigo, pendejo. Y escúchame bien, cabrón. Si vuelvo a oir que le estás faltando el respeto a mi hija o a los otros niños te voy a partir la madre." (I'm not your fucking friend. And listen to me very well, you fucker. If I hear you disrespecting my kid or the others, I'll fuck you up.)

The whistle of the referee and other parents had to create more space in between, the tension between the both was palpable enough, you felt his hand gripping yours tighter.

The referee whistled again, resuming the game, cheerings and clapping slowly returned as the kids played.

"What happened?!"

"He was speaking shit of Gabriela. Hopefully he'll know now that I can understand him pretty fucking well. Talvez así se calla el hocico." (Maybe that way he can shut the fuck up)

You sighed and rubbed his arm, trying to comfort him. He threw glances at the man that only recoiled to his own self whenever he caught Miguel staring at him.

#miguel o'hara #Protective Miguel #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #gabi o'hara #short drabble #dad miguel o'hara

[cloudywriting05]

DON’T YOU WANT ME, BABY? – coriolanus snow

WARNING: mentions of non-consensual sex acts, stalking, creepy coriolanus. excuse any grammar errors, i’ll fix them… when i feel like it 🤎🤎

“Why is he staring at you?” Arachne said, glaring at the blonde boy who sat alone at the behind you.

“Who? Snow?” you asked, cocking your eyebrows up.

“Who else, duh?”

You released a deep sigh before turning your torso, immediately locking eyes with the boy, a smile instantly spreading across his face. You timidly waved at him, reluctantly returning a smile. Arachne chuckled lowly at the awkward exchange between the two of you. Why did he like you? You didn’t know, nor did you care. You didn’t mind, what you did mind was the jokes amongst the girls. They would playfully tease you about him every single day. You can’t remember when he started liking you, but he made it abundantly clear, counteracting his timid demeanour and reluctance towards conversation with almost all of his peers, including you. His only friend he truly spoke to seemed to be Sejanus Plinth, another boy in your grade. A part of you sympathised with Snow, you couldn’t deny it, you related to him. His shyness reminded you of yours, his silence and his coldness. You related to the moments you watched him scatter for words to say when one of the girls spoke to him, you found it comforting.

“Hey, when are you and Snow gonna fuck? Or are you still crushing on Sejanus?” Arachne teased, you groaned in response, burying your face in your palms.

“That’s not okay, never say that again!” you cried, your words muffled by your hands, Arachne laughed in satisfaction.

Lost in your conversation with your friend, you hadn’t noticed the blonde boy. His smile had faded. He glared at you aimlessly, he was not aware of your supposed crush on Sejanus. He sat there silently, his eyes glued to the back of your head, his lunch now cold. Anger brewed within him, he restrained himself, he fought every urge to violently slam Arachne’s head into the table for even suggesting something as foul as that, every urge to grab a chunk of her hair and yank her backwards, stabbing into her throat with the fork she was eating with, multiple times– every single urge. He was going to make sure you knew you were his, no matter how or when. How could you not know? He did everything for you, you were his girl. He bought you flowers, bought you chocolate, cut Festus’s breaks for slapping your ass at his party last year, Coriolanus made sure you would never have to deal with him again. All for you. Everything is for you. He didn’t wanna hurt anyone else for you but if it came to that, he would, yes, he would. Look at you, look at how clueless you were. So fragile, he wondered if he could take you then and there, on that table. What would you do? Nothing, there’s nothing you could do.

The cold engulfed you, your legs shivering as you laid under the blanket. You left a crack of the patio door to let in air in a desperate attempt to fix the temperature in your room. You laid there, head buried into the pillow, meanwhile he stood in front of your house peering up into your window, calculating how he would get it. He found a way. Climbing up the water pipe and onto your patio. His eyes fell upon your small frame, sprawled across your bed, completely unaware of his presence. He stalked towards you; the air shifted as he entered your room. The smell of burnt incense and fresh clothes lingered– smelt different from the last time, the boy mentally noted. He inched towards your body, you softly snored, he loomed over you in complete awe. His eyes hungrily scanned your body, he felt his pants getting tight at the sight of you. You were so beautiful to him; he could tear up. His hand glided over his clothed cock, palming at himself as he stared down at you.

His body jolted as you suddenly turned over, he stopped himself from backing away, remaining completely still as you drifted back off into deep slumber. He sighed in relief, even more thankful as your pyjama was slightly unbuttoned. He thought to himself, just a little more, reaching down slowly towards your chest. He lightly pulled the side of your shirt to the left, exposing your left breast. He let out a low growl, pushing against himself even harder. Slowly, he used his hands to release his cock, his head feeling light has he soaked in his reality. He stood over you, touching himself. He wondered if he should get ballsy and do something to you, he couldn’t- that would make him a creep, he wasn’t a creep.

He felt himself get closer; his eyes shut. He choked back his moan, and he picked his pace up, his eyes flickered for a second and he froze. He could’ve sworn, put it on his heart and everything he loved and cared about that he saw you looking right back at him. He didn’t want to believe it, he relaxed his face and let his eyes open.

Laying there, wide eyed you stared at him. Bewildered at the sight in front of you, he stared at you in horror, you glanced down at his dick and back at his eyes again.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

#the hunger games #coriolanus snow #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x oc #coriolanus x you #Coriolanus smut #Coriolanus snow smut #ballads of songbirds and snakes

[kayesfanfics]

Before He Cheats (Striker x Fem! Reader)

Summary: You’re a farmhand on Rough n’ Tumbleweed Ranch. When your boyfriend cheats on you, Striker is there to pick you back up.

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, cursing, sexual content

A/N: This is inspired both by Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood, and cowboy Pedro Pascal but with Striker, my fav cowboy. Also I’m like super proud of this ngl. Enjoy~

“That’s it, Sallie May! I’m burning down his house! His car! That fucker thinks he can sleep with some bitch and come crawlin’ back ta me?! Imma kill him! I will!” You ranted to your best friend, pacing back and forth in the family houses kitchen.

“I told ya that guy was no good, Y/N.” Sallie May shrugged from her spot sitting on the counter, watching you kick around the legs of a chair you had smashed to bits when you had gotten the text. Your boyfriend had cheated, and he only just now got around to telling you…THREE WEEKS LATER. He didn’t even have the balls to tell you in person, he had to do it over text so he didn’t face your wrath head on…but to be honest, that was a smart move. If he were here, you probably would’ve actually killed him.

“He told me I was different! He said he loved me!” You shouted, enraged and heartbroken.

“They always say that, darlin’.” A voice from somewhere behind you purred. You turned around, seeing the other farmhand of Rough n’ Tumbleweed Ranch.

“Hello, Striker.” You muttered, before finally bending down to pick up the ruined chair you had broken and had been tossing around the room, setting the pieces on the table.

“What’s with the chair?” Striker asked, leaning against the doorway.

“Y/N lost her shit.” Sallie May grinned as she hopped off the counter to grab a broom and sweep up the splinters of wood littering the floor.

“Aw, now why’s that, doll?” Striker asked, chewing on a piece of wheat.

“My goddamn boy-EX boyfriend, cheated on me weeks ago, and just now told me over TEXT! Can you believe that?! What kinda coward-“

“Oh, I can believe it. The men ‘round these parts are…sleazy.” He said, tossing the wheat piece in the pile of wood chips.

“Oh, excluding you, I presume?” You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well now, I ain’t no saint, but I’m no cheater. No honor in that.” He grinned as he approached you. “How abouts we head down to the bar, huh? Get some drinks, forget about that loser?”

“That…could be nice.” You admitted, blushing a little at how close Striker had gotten to you.

“What, I don’ get no invitation?” Sallie May piped up, grinning at you.

“Tell your mama I’m real sorry about the chair and I’ll fix it later. Please, Sallie May?” You whispered the last part to her. Everyone who had eyes had the hots for Striker, and she knew this could be a good lay to get your mind off your ex and move on quicker. So she finally nodded, and you winked at her before telling Striker you were gonna quickly change out of your dirty work gear.

You put something a little more bar-friendly on, making sure to choose a shirt that showed some extra cleavage, and a pair of jeans that made your ass look even better. Striker smirked and held an arm out for you to hold as he walked you out to his horse, Sallie May waving to you with a teasing grin on her face. You smiled when you reached Bombproof, petting the hell beast while Striker got the saddle ready, before helping you up and getting on himself. You wrapped your arms around his waist as he rode into town, heading to one of the nicer saloons in the area. Since you were deep in the country of Wrath, there was a place to tie your horse where they had a trough of water for them, and Striker held out his hand to help you off and walk you into the bar. The place was rather lively with twangy country music playing, some people watching some sports game on the tv, and others at tables eating or playing pool. You went up to the bar with Striker, ordering your first round and chatting with him.

“So, what was so great bout that little boyfriend of yours anyways? From what I heard from Sallie May, he was a real piece of shit.” Striker asked you as you took a swig of your drink.

“She got to you while I was upstairs, huh?” You chuckled, setting your drink down and rolling your eyes at your best friend.

“Oh yeah. Talked my ears off about how he “kinda-sorta” cheated before, he yelled at you a lot, you’re too forgivin’ of him, loved his car more than he loved you, yadda yadda.”

“That loud mouth.” You muttered under your breath before turning back to him. “Yeah, well, I learned my lesson. He was my first long term boyfriend, of course I let too much shit slide. But I won’ make that mistake twice.”

“Really? First boyfriend, huh?”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Yer too pretty to just now have yer first boyfriend, sweet thing.” He winked at you before taking a sip of his drink, leaving you blushing up at him like some flustered schoolgirl.

“Quit that!” You smacked his arm playfully, knowing full well your face was red as a tomato. “I can’t imagine YOU’VE had many girlfriends yourself, tough guy.”

“And why’s that?”

“I don’ know, you don’ seem the type to like bein’ tied down is all.” You shrugged, tapping your nail on your glass.

“Yer right about that, I guess.” He sighed. “You got me, doll, I ain’t got much datin’ experience neither.”

“Oh? What about…experience with other relations?” You asked, a little more bold with some alcohol in your system.

“Whatcha mean by that, doll face?” Striker smiled back at you, both of you subconsciously leaning towards the other as you flirted.

You were about to answer, but man walked up to the both of you, knocking your drinks aside and the sticky liquid splashing all over you.

“Hey, watch it you-“ You were about to scold the person until you saw who it was. “You.”

“Yer gonna bitch at me bout cheatin while yer hangin off the arm of some random dick head?!” Your ex boyfriend yelled in your face drunkenly.

“Hey, back off her, dick head!” Striker shoved him off of you.

“Who the fuck are you anyways?” Your ex asked him, trying to puff out his chest and stand taller.

“Don’ matter, that ain’t how ya talk to her, sleaze bag.” Striker growled down at the man.

“Oh, so yer gonna hide behind this asshole, huh Y/N? I thought you were ‘sposed at be tough! You just gonna bend over fer him too?”

Your anger finally boiled over, and you pushed Striker aside to face your ex yourself. You decked him in the face so hard he fell backwards onto his ass, knocking over some other peoples table and getting food and drinks spilled all over himself. You glowered down at him, wanting to beat the shit out of him, but Striker snatched you up and dragged you out of the bar before you got into too much trouble. You yelled at Striker to let you go, squirming against his hold on you.

“Calm down, missy, before ya hurt yourself.” Striker said, only setting you down and letting go when you calmed down. You tried to rush past him back into the bar, but he was prepared and stopped you again.

“Let me kill him! Just a little!” You huffed as he drug you further away from the bar entrance.

“Not tonight, darlin’. Maybe another day, huh?” He suggested, letting you go again once you were drug out to the parking lot. You crossed your arms and pouted, needing to let your rage out somehow. Suddenly in your chaotic mind, a single thought stood out to you.

“His car.” You mumbled, looking around the parking lot.

“What’s goin on in that pretty lil head of yers?” Striker asked as he followed you, your eyes scanning the cars.

“His stupid fuckin’ car. He always loved that thing more than me.” You explained, smiling devilishly when you finally saw it. You went up to the souped-up sports car. “He spent more money on it than anything, its customized with some expensive ass shit.”

Striker grinned when he realized what you wanted to do. He even pulled a knife out of his belt and handed it to you, looking around for something else to use on the car. In a trash bin he saw a metal rod sticking put of it, so he grabbed it and watched you circle the nice car like a shark with its prey. The screech of metal on metal signaled you were digging the knife into he custom paint job, carving your name into it proudly. You got down and slashed his tires, stabbing them and watching them deflate before going to the other side of the car to give it the same treatment. Striker watched proudly as you destroyed this mans car, smirking and joining you not long after by smashing the windows in with the metal rod. You laughed when he joined in, stabbing the side of the car more and prying it open to give you access to the inside. You slashed his nice leather seats, tearing them to shreds and till the stuffing was falling out and flying in the air. You got out of the car and grabbed the metal rod from Striker, beginning to beat the shit out of this car, pretending it was your ex himself.

“Alright, alright, we gotta get outta here!” Striker said after letting you have your fun for awhile, but when some customers began to leave the bar, he knew it was time to go. You dropped the rod and took his hand, running off to the horses and getting on Bombproof while Striker untied him from the fence. You heard screaming in the distance, cackling when you realized it was your exes high pitched shrieks as he saw what had happened to his car.

“Come on, come on!” You laughed as Striker got on his horse, galloping away into the night. You listened to the screeches and screams of your ex with a smile on your face, reveling in the moment.

“He’s gon be so pissed when he sees your name on that thing!” Striker laughed loudly.

“So worth it!” You shouted back. “Thank you, Striker!”

“Not a problem, darlin’! You ready ta go home?” He asked as he slowed Bombproof down, far enough away from the bar you didn’t need to worry anymore.

“How abut we…” You smiled as your hands around his waist traveled further down his body. You felt hot and bothered after that adrenaline rush, and if you were being honest with yourself, you’ve been wanting to fuck this handsome cowboy for much longer than just tonight.

“One hotel room, comin’ up.” Striker smirked, before smacking his tail on Bombproof to make him run off. You held onto him as he raced the two of you to the nearest motel, tying Bombproof up at another fence before taking your hand and leading you to the front desk. Once the clerk handed him the room key, the two of you rushed up to the room together.

As soon as the door was opened, you turned Striker around to finally kiss him. He tasted of his drink and cigarettes, his lips rough but skilled as he kissed you back. He tapped on your thigh and you jumped up, wrapping your legs around him as he held you up, squeezing your ass through your jeans as he kicked the door shut behind him. He walked up to the bed, bending over to set you down as his lips never once left yours. You felt his bulge through his own jeans, his hips humping into your own, causing you to moan. He took the opportunity to stick his snake like tongue into your mouth, clawing at you as you pushed his jacket off his shoulders. He stood up to begin stripping, smiling as you watched himself shed his clothes intently.

“Been wantin’ to do this fer a long time, pretty girl.” He purred, now completely shirtless and his hat tossed across the room onto a lamp. He bent over you again, tugging at the hem of your shirt. You lifted your arms for him to take your shirt off and toss it over his shoulder, before his hands went under you to unclasp your bra. He lowly whistled when he saw your bare breasts, a hand squeezing one and playing with it while his mouth made its way to your neck, attaching to it with his teeth, leaving a bite mark before sucking a hickey into it. You moaned and arched your back, your chest pressing further into his hands as they both now groped your soft breasts, his breath heavy as he felt your body and marked you up with his mouth.

“Striker…” You moaned quietly, your own hands clawing at his back, leaving your own marks as well.

“We’re not at the farm, darlin’. We ain’t never gon see any of these people here, so you can scream my name as loud as you need to, sugar~” He groaned as your hips started to grind into his.

“Then hurry up and make me scream~” You moaned, biting your lip as he stood back up, kicking his boots off before taking yours off, tossing them near the door.

He pulled at your jeans, and you lifted your hips off the bed so he could take them off of you. He then took his own jeans off, his bulge much more prominent now through the thin fabric of his boxers. You sat up on the bed and nearly drooled as you stared at his crotch, imagining what he looked like underneath those boxers. You looked up at him with doe eyes as you slid off the bed onto your knees, two fingers hooking under the waistband, looking up for a nod of approval before you slipped his boxers off of him, his hard-on slapping against his abdomen once set free.

“Fuck, Striker…” You drooled over him, licking your lips before kissing the tip of his cock. He groaned at your action, a hand instinctively tangling into your hair, pushing you closer to him. You obediently opened your mouth, letting him shove his cock into your mouth until he hit the back of your throat. You gagged a bit at the contact, but slowly got used to it as your throat began to relax.

“Good girl…” Striker panted, his nails scraping your scalp, making you moan around his length. You slowly started to bob your head up and down his shaft, your tongue licking up and down the underside of his cock. Striker hissed as you sucked him off so good, hips bucking into your face as his grip on your hair tightened. “Fuck, Y/N! You must���ve never given that dipshit head, he never woulda cheated if you did!”

The reminder of your ex only made you more determined to make Striker cum down your throat. You wanted every thought of that loser to be replaced with Striker, every memory of sex to be with Striker instead of him. You began to bob your head faster and suck harder, Striker nearly stumbling over when you did that, holding onto the bed behind you for support as his eyes squeezed shut at your actions. He soon came down your throat, his hand holding you in place so that your nose was pressed up against his abs so not a drop spilled from your mouth. Once he came down from his high he let you go and backed up to give you room to stand, catching his breath as you sat back up on the bed in front of him.

“Shit, baby.” Was all he could say as he panted, more turned on now than ever as you batted your pretty eyes up at him. “Lay on back now, it’s time I returned the favor~”

You smiled sheepishly before lying back on the bed, propping yourself up on your elbows as you watched Striker kneel down in front of you, his own fingers slipping under the waistband of your panties. You lifted your hips for him once again to allow him to slip them off, a sexy grin adorning his face as he grabbed your thighs and propped them on either of his shoulders.

“Fuck me…” He muttered, kissing up your thighs and his eyes never leaving your glistening pussy. “Baby doll, you really are Satan’s favorite, huh?”

You didn’t have the chance to answer him, his tongue flicking over your clit stopping you. You whimpered at the feeling, it had been so long since you had received head from someone, and you knew his long tongue would hit the right spots. You moaned as his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking softly but enough to have your head tossing back and our back arching off the bed. You whined out his name as you gripped at the sheets below you, his tongue flicking across your folds before delving into your hole. One of his hands let go of your thigh so his fingers could rub your clit in slow but firm circles, his tongue working inside of you. You squirmed on the bed but his other hand held you firmly, one of your own hands flying to grab one of his horns, pushing him further into your cunt. He let out a muffled moan of surprise, but didn’t argue as he continued to eat you out like a starved man, the hand on your thigh digging its claws into your soft flesh. You ground your hips into Strikers face, feeling yourself reaching the edge. You moaned out a warning to him, and he moaned into your cunt as his fingers rubbed your clit faster and his tongue went impossibly deeper inside of you. You let out a high pitched squeak at the feeling, loudly moaning out Strikers name as you quickly toppled over the edge, your hips and legs shaking and spasming from how intense your orgasm was. Once you settled down and Striker licked you clean, he finally stood back up and caged you between his arms, grinning down at you as you caught your breath.

“Fuck, cowboy…” You breathed out before leaning up to kiss him, moaning at the taste of yourself on his mouth.

“I got some more surprises fer ya, darlin’. You wanna do this ass up or not?” He asked. You answered him by crawling up further onto the bed, bending over for him. He grinned as he pumped his cock, crawling up to you and pressing his chest to your back, kissing the base of your neck to make you shiver as you hugged a pillow, preparing yourself for that addicting stretch you hadn’t felt in so long. “Ready?”

You nodded desperately, Strikers body pressing against yours left your skin burning for more of him. You moved a hand to reach for his, and he chuckled but intertwined his fingers with yours, before aligning himself and beginning to push into you. You squeezed his hand and moaned as his cock began to stretch you open, biting your lip and squeezing your eyes shut as you buried your face into the pillow below you. Striker kissed you on your bare shoulder as his thumb rubbed the back of your hand comfortingly, he own eyes squeezing shut at the feeling of your pussy fluttering around his cock. Once he was bottomed out, he awaited for you to tell him he could start moving. Your hips started to move against his, and he took it as a sign to keep going. He slowly pulled out halfway before snapping his hips back into you, smiling at the little squeak you let out at the action. He started moving his hips faster and faster, the hand holding yours being nearly crushed as you held onto it. You moaned lewdly as his cock hit that perfect spot inside of you, whining and beginning to shake as you felt yourself approaching an orgasm again already. Striker chuckled as he felt your cunt squeeze him and your breathing becoming erratic as you neared your high.

“Don’ be embarrassed, sweet thing, cum for me~” He whispered into your ear encouragingly, freeing his hand from your grip to pinch and rub at your clit, a choked moan escaping your lips as you immediately came around his cock, Striker groaning at how you squeezed around him so tightly.

“S-Striker!” You nearly screamed as your body shook violently beneath him.

“That’s right, Y/N, scream my name~” He panted as he felt himself nearing his second orgasm of the night. He continued to pound into you, screams escaping you as your sensitive pussy was being overstimulated. He pulled out briefly to flip you over onto your back, desperate to see your face. He shoved his cock back into you, your breasts bouncing at the force he used to fuck you into the mattress. You began to babble incoherently as your eyes crossed and rolled back, Striker smiling smugly at how you unraveled around him.

“I-I’m almost there, Y/N.” He warned you, your legs clamping around him now allowing him to pull out.

“C-Cum in me!” You whimpered, feeling yet another orgasm coming on.

“You sure?”

“Just do it!” You screamed, your claws digging into his back to keep him in place.

His hips shot into yours as he came, groaning and panting as you also came with him, your juices squirting all over his dick as you both clutched onto the other desperately. Once you both came down from your highs, Striker collapsed on top of you, both of you trying to catch your breaths as your grips loosened on the other. After a few minutes, Striker stumbled out of bed and grabbed a towel from the bathroom, wiping both of you down and tossing it onto the floor before getting back into the bed with you. He pulled you close, noticing your thighs still twitching from the intense squirting orgasm you had.

“Nobody’s…ever made me…d-do that…” You panted, tilting your head to face him, but not having the strength to move your body yet.

“Well…glad to be a stand out.” He chuckled as he looked at you with half lidded eyes.

“Striker…” You swallowed harshly. “I…”

“Save it for the mornin, doll.” He interrupted you, pulling you close to him and shutting his eyes. You nodded dumbly, not having the thoughts or energy to argue with him. Plus, this was nice, just being held by him so intimately, singing and letting morning you figure out your relationship with the man. For now, you just curled into his touch and buried your face into his chest.

#helluva boss striker #striker x reader #helluva boss #helluva boss x reader

[wol-fica]

-𝕄𝕖𝕖𝕥 ℂ𝕦𝕥𝕖-

pairings - jennaortega x fem!writer!reader

summary - you got hired for a huge new gig as a script writer for season two of wednesday, the events after help you meet someone new…

warnings - none !

an - i’m alive, tell me i’m pretty

——————————

June 9th, 2023 Coachella Valley, CA: 1:27 PM

You were going to be late, exceedingly so. 

You had a meeting scheduled for 1:30 PM sharp, any later would cause you to lose the job. Many times you had said that you were interested in the opening, promising to be a hard worker and wonderful staff member to the writing crew for the upcoming second season of a netflix show titled Wednesday. It was everything you could ever wish for, the job was like a dream to you.

But now, your hopes of getting to write on such an incredible show are being crushed due to many unfortunate events transpiring throughout the day. 

Firstly, you woke up later than expected and had to hurry around to get yourself ready and organize your idea board that was going to be presented at the meeting. Then, the water pipe under your sink burst, causing you to have to fix it and get soaked in the process. And finally, your dryer decided to completely break down on you, which meant you needed to pull a new outfit together, which left you literally sprinting through the hallway of the building your meeting was being held at while fixing your hair to look at least decent in front of all the professionals you were going to be working with. 

Soon the door to the meeting room came into view, relief washing through you when your watch stated that it was 1:29 PM. Perfect, right on time. Gathering yourself in the final few seconds you had, you brushed out a few wrinkles in your shirt and held your chin up proudly before pushing the door open and heading inside.

“There she is!” Dave, another writer, exclaimed with a smile, “I knew she would show up…eventually.”

“I’m so sorry, my morning was hectic as hell.” You apologized, setting your stuff down and taking a seat next to your other coworker named Matt.

“No biggy, you’re right on time.” Matt said to you with a smile, pushing a fresh cup of coffee in your direction.

You took it gratefully, bringing the drink to your lips to take a sip. Everyone was seated, adjusting their papers and whatnot while you waited for the show's producers to arrive. 

“For how much they nip at our necks to be on time, they really don’t seem to feel the need to be punctual.” Aurora said from your right, resting her head in her hand.

“Stuck up, is the right description.” The lead writer, Elsa said, jotting down what seemed to be some final touches to her idea, “They will be here when it is convenient for them.”

A chorus of ‘mhmmm’s came from the group, everyone nodding in agreement while you stayed silent. Judgment wasn’t a huge thing for you, especially since you knew most of the producers and was familiar with how hectic their schedules can be with having the weight of the entire show’s production on their backs. Besides, the ones you have met so far are pretty friendly people, so you didn’t feel the need to act petty with their late arrival. 

“How was your weekend Y/N?” Matt asked you, attempting to strike up a friendly conversation, “I noticed you look a little sunburnt.”

“Oh, yeah.” You chuckled, looking down at your slightly pink arms, “I went paddle boarding at the canal, forgot to bring sunscreen.” 

“I can tell.” He said with a smile, “At least you will gain a sick tan.”

“The wonderful aftermath!” You joked, both of you laughing lightly.

Matt sucked in a breath, sipping his coffee before setting it down on the table. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the opening of the office door. 

In walked the producers, all six holding script copies and large binders full of each writer's bullet-note ideas for the next season of the show. You knew three by name, two by face, and one you have never seen before. Well, never seen was a lie, you of course have witnessed the incredible Jenna Ortega and her infamous role as THE Wednesday Addams, but you had never formally met her. The most interaction you have had together was at the premiere for season one; you were dragged along by Elsa so you could see what you were up against, and you happened to be sitting two seats away from Jenna, who had given you a curt nod when Elsa introduced you to Tim. 

“Hello everyone!” Max said, one of the two executive producers, “Sorry for being late, our meeting went longer than expected.”

“No big deal.” Dave replied, standing to shake his hand politely, “We weren’t going to start without you anyways.”

“Let’s get started shall we?” Max said, looking around the table before pausing when he saw you, “Oh Y/N! Glad you made it!”

You shyly waved, a small smile on your face as many eyes went to you, “I’m glad to be here.” 

“I’ve read some of your scripts before, very impressive in my opinion.” Another producer, face but no name, said with an approving nod. 

“Thank you.” You replied, an embarrassing blush covering your cheeks.

“Okay! So let’s go over some things…” Max said, flipping open his binder. 

Most of the meeting went smoothly, the producers listening intently to each writer's ideas for the upcoming season. You nodded and replied to questions, occasionally writing down notes here and there to store for a revision of your script. You were currently nose deep in your writing, scribbling down a few dialogue changes for a random scene you came across.

“Y/N, what about you?” Elsa asked suddenly, startling you into accidentally throwing your pencil behind you.

“Oh, um..” You set your script down, sitting up a little straighter, “Well I thought of a bit of a different approach for this season, it’s more character focused than scene directed.”

“Focused on what?”

“Well,” You cleared your throat, “I thought of dropping the whole love triangle idea, I never imagined Wednesday being interested in boys or girls while solving a murder, that didn’t make sense to me.”

You felt a sudden confidence with your words, the talk of your idea shredding away at your anxiety.

“To me, she should definitely be a lot more gruesomely funny. Bring some more gore, some more horror, some more dead things because that is what makes Wednesday so likable to the viewers. Get rid of all the boy talk and all that, I think she should be more toned to focusing on her stalker and whatever else comes with her junior year.”

“And get rid of the sappy lines.” You finished, shaking your head at the thought of some, “No offense Elsa.”

“None taken, I stay up every night hating myself for writing it.” She joked, causing everyone to laugh.

While she, Max, and one of  the other executive producers talked some more about which script to choose, you started to feel a gaze burrowing into the side of your skull. Turning to your right, your eyes caught big brown ones, full of curiosity and interest as they stared at you. 

It was Jenna, her focus on you instead of the others' conversation on the final decisions for the second season. You felt a little vulnerable under her stare, so you gave her a friendly smile and a little wave, a silent “hello!”.

She immediately smiled back, recuperating your wave with a beaming look. Her dimples appeared when she did that, catching your attention of how her nose seemed to scrunch up and how her eyes squinted in just the slightest way that made her look very cute. 

“Okay! I think that wraps up the meeting!” Max said enthusiastically, closing his binder and standing up, “Head home everyone!”

You sighed, happy to be done with work for the day. You began to gather your things, packing them into your bag and scooping your pile of notes and scripts into your arms. Matt came up beside you, handing you your pencil that you previously threw behind you.

“Don’t forget that.” He said, grinning.

“How could I?” You sneered, adjusting your bag on your back, “Are you going out with Megan again?”

He nodded, then pulled out his phone and showed that he was getting a phone call. He waved goodbye to you, heading out the door and down the hallway. You slowly followed suit, the weight of your backpack and papers making you a tad bit slower. As you walked towards the exit, a tap on your shoulder made you turn around.

It was Jenna, sporting a friendly smile.

“Hi!” She said enthusiastically, holding out a hand for you to shake, “I'm Jenna, I've been trying to meet you for some time now.”

“Oh wow!” You joked, somehow taking her hand without dropping your papers, “I’m Y/N, and I didn’t know you were waiting or I would’ve come and said hi.”

“I still like to introduce myself even if people know me, it’s how I was raised.” Jenna said, slightly rocking on her heels.

“How formal of you.” You said, grinning, “Did you just want to say hi orrrrr…”

“Oh! No, I wanted to ask if you had any plans for today…?” She asked shyly, a hopeful expression on her face. 

“Not that I know of, why?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch with me?”

You seemed to restart, your mind going blank at her words. Was she asking you to hang out? Jenna Ortega wants to hang out with you?

“Uh..I mean- well…” You started to stutter, a blush climbing up your neck, “Of fucking course!”

Jenna giggled, hiding her mouth while she laughed. You scratched the back of your neck, admiring her features yet again. She was incredibly gorgeous, and you didn’t even feel ashamed when you gazed at her moving lips.

“How does Panera sound?” 

You smiled wide, your eyes lighting up at the name of your favorite restaurant. Jenna laughed yet again at your reaction, covering her mouth with her hand.

“That sounds fucking amazing.” You said, shifting your weight on your feet.

“Great!” Jenna replied, adjusting the papers in her hands, her head turning back to you, “Does 3:30 work? I have another meeting in like 15 minutes.”

“That’s perfect.” You almost mumbled, your eyes on her lips again.

Jenna smirked.

You blushed at being caught.

“I’ll see you then, cute girl.”

And then she was gone.

As soon as she was out of sight and earshot, you squealed and danced in a circle, doing a little happy dance.

A lunch date, with Jenna fucking Ortega.

Couldn’t get any better than this.

—————————

hi :)

taglist: @crystal-lily-101 @tundra1029 @house-of-lovin @rainbow-love4ever  @imhungry-andtired @theafterofnevermore @k1mba @simp4thena @thenextdawn @alexkolax @annalestern @efectoangel @fall-08 @andsoigotabutterfly @littlegaybutterflysblog @sayaisrotten @deep-fried-egg @frasersgf @thispussyshouldcomew @rollingsins @somekindofpoet

#jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x reader #jennaortegaedit #jenna ortega #jenna #jenna ortega fluff #ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you

[honeygrahambitch]

I headcanon Hannibal not to be your average bitching cunt cause that's Will. Will is dramatic, vents, gesticulates, walks backs and forth. Imagine he orders himself some fishing rods for example and they send him the wrong models. Every single day during a week, Hannibal has to listen to his venting. He doesn't mind.

Will was a cunt before meeting Hannibal but after he got into this relationship with this man who inflates his ego every single day of his life by literally considering him God, his own self esteem sky rocketed and yeah, more cuntiness. Don't know if it makes sense. Hannibal basically taught him that he deserves the best and he should never expect less than that.

However when it comes to Hannibal, it's the opposite when things don't go his way. If you don't know him, you might as well miss it.

Let's picture this. He and Will are finally building their forever home after a few years of being on the run. And while Will takes care of less artsy matters, such as insulation or gas or running water, things he is good at like choosing pipes and such, Hannibal is taking care of colors, decor, style, you get the point. And obviously the kitchen is such an important part. And he spends a lot of time choosing the right furniture and color schemes and when the tiles arrive and the workers place them on the floor of the kitchen, his whole world shatters.

The corner tiles are not symmetrical.

The workers start finding excuses and Will is waiting for him to blow up but he doesn't. He says nothing. He gets into the car and quietly waits for Will to be done with the workers and start the engine.

Will is terrified of his silence since Hannibal is usually very opinionated. Especially when it comes to his kitchen. So he decides to say something.

"Idiots. They should have been more careful for how much they get paid."

"I suppose." Hannibal replies.

"No, you put so much work into this kitchen. I would be mad too."

"I am not mad. They said they will fix it."

Will is almost annoyed by his lack of reaction.

Later they get to the place where they are living for the time being and Hannibal starts cooking dinner. That's when Will hears the first sigh.

Exactly 20 minutes later, he hears the second sigh. Louder this time, Will can clearly hear it from the living room.

He checks on him and Hannibal says that nothing happened. Will starts helping him by cutting some cheese on a board. That's when Hannibal starts comparing their future house to a well matured cheese. He starts talking about the importance of the hands who take care of the cheese cause sure, time and humidity play an important part, as well as the quality of the cows and goats and their milk but if you want good matured cheese you have to make sure trustable people take care of it.

Will nods and agrees. He understands what he has to do and doesn't ask more questions. The next day he announces Hannibal he had fired the workers and found already better ones.

Hannibal smiles. His Will knows how to read him so well.

#hannibal #hannigram #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannibal nbc

[oliveisme533]

My dad's neighbor is a dilf

Chapter 2

Joel Miller x you

Summery: You had decided to spend your summer in Austin with your dad. You used to spend almost every summer there, but hadn't spent a summer there since you were a teenager. Which means you hadn't seen a certain Joel Miller in years..

Warnings: Verbally abusive boyfriend. Talks of mental health and self harmI will put a sign for what paragraph to skip if you want to avoid that content

Of fucking course Ben would call you... your rub your temple and groan. "It's too late for this shit" you mutter to yourself and flick off the light with a little more force than you intended.

Sunday morning you slept in. It wasn't until about 11:00 that you heard your dad banging around in the kitchen downstairs. You drag yourself out of bed, highly motivated by the smell of coffee making its way to your nose. As your feet hit the landing toilet freeze, the fog of sleep dissipates instantly and your insides turn to liquid. "It's really no problem! I can have it fixed in a couple hours, plus you don't want to wait around with that kind of shit. It can turn into a much bigger problem real quick if you don't take care of it soon" that was Joel's voice. What is Joel doing in your kitchen at 11am on a Sunday?!! Especially when he was just here..last night? Do him and my dad really spend that much time together?? You contemplate running back upstairs but then your dad catches a glimpse of you before you can execute your plan. "Well hey babydoll! Didn't know if you were still alive up there" you offer him a grunt in response as you make your way to the coffee pot. "Good morning to you too" he laughs. "Oh hey, the water is going to be shut off in a bit because there's a leak in the water pipes upstairs. Joel said he would take care of it so water should be back on in an hour or so." "Do you just call Joel instead of a plumber these days?" You question your dad with a raised eyebrow. He chuckles "no, I basically sent him a text this morning asking for his opinion on whether or not this needed to be fixed asap or it was no big deal. I was going to call someone on Monday, but he insisted". Your dad lowered his voice slightly as he then said "between you and me...I think he's trying to stay real busy these days. I know having Sarah with her mom for the summer has been a really hard adjustment for him" that seemed logic enough to you and you said as much to your dad before Joel came back through the front door carrying several tools.

"Well good morning sunshine" he said with a smile that stirred inside of you. "One of these days I oughta teach your dad how to be useful around the house so he can carry on without me" "yeah you two are like a married couple" you joked. Joel chuckled "mmm well who could resist this handsome man" he said gesturing to himself. You rolled your eyes "you're old" it was a cheap shot, but also you secretly would admit his age because you were curious. He laughed and said "yeah Sarah says the same to me" but he didn't say anything else. He walked out of the kitchen and began up the stairs towards the leaky pipe or whatever the hell he was here to fix. As soon as he was out of sight you flung your head back "why...why couldn't dad just call a freakin plumber" you resolved to deal with the Ben situation after you had some breakfast in your stomach. It was not something you were particularly looking forward too, but you knew he wouldn't let up until you responded. Sure you could block him, but it wasn't like he was some tinder date gone wrong. You two had spent years together, not to mention you were adults who needed to handle the situation like adults and not take the easy way out.

After breakfast you found an outfit that wasn't an old t-shirt and shorts with little owls on them. You were still mortified that Joel saw this look. "Okay you can do this" you breathed, picking up your phone and tapping Ben's name." Of course he picked up almost immediately. "Hey.. how are you?" You responded politely, but quickly veered the conversation to what he really wanted to talk about. "Well, I've been thinking. I really think you and I are meant to be together. It just feels right, and I know I haven't always been the best at showing up or just being a good boyfriend in general, but now I really feel I'm ready for that level of commitment" there was a short pause

"listen, Ben ... I just don't see it that way. I've spent too much time over the years being disappointed by your actions. I've broke my own heart so many times because I convinced myself you were really going to change and then to I didn't. I can't do that anymore. We're too old for this. I'm glad you feel like you're ready to commit and I hope you find a girl who is too, but at this point in my life I just can't offer you that." You had feared he would be angry, but weren't prepared for what came next. ⚠️CW⚠️ "Are you fucking serious?? Like after all these years you're just going to throw all that away?! Like honestly I didn't need to come back and give you another chance but I did and" "GIVE ME another chance?!! What the fuck Ben..HOW do you even see it that way??" "WHAT DO YOU MEAN??" He shouted back "babe I have put up with so much of your shit over the years and now I'm saying that it doesn't matter and I'm going to stick around regardless of all that!" Oh now he has crossed a line "MY SHIT?! WHAT, PRAY TELL ARE YOU REFERRING TOO?!" "I have had to do SO MUCH for you like when your mental health is bad you just shut off completely. It's like trying to be in a relationship with a fucking wall! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW HARD THAT IS...WHAT KIND OF TOLL THAT TAKES ON ME." Hot tears of anger were streaming down your cheeks. "I CANNOT believe you said that! Did you ever consider how hard it is FOR ME in those times?! Like honestly Ben you only think about yourself." "Oh really is that why I took off work so I could drive you to the hospital when you slit your wrists and you called me, crying?? Obviously that shows I care for you! You cannot tell me I only care about myself when I had to do that kind of shit for you!" Your chest was now rising and falling very rapidly. You certainly were not thinking about how loud you were being right now, but luckily your dad was outside mowing the lawn, well out of earshot. "Ben that is the bare MINIMUM A PERSON CAN DO. Like you're really hanging that over my head??! fucking grow up! God FORBID YOU TAKE THE TIME TO DRIVE ME TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM DURING THE WORK DAY. How about we talk about all the shit I've done for YOU over the years." You could now hear him laughing. A hollow laugh, but a laugh all the same. "Oh DONT EVEN. What could you POSSIBLY have done to compare to me being your GODDAMN NURSE when you're a grown adult." It was all too much. You were all but sobbing at this point. "You are such an ASSHOLE Ben! Don't EVER call me again! THIS IS OVER. I will NEVER love you and you will NEVER speak to me this way again. If you so much as text me...I'm going to get fucking restraining order!" You choked out. "A RESTRAINING ORDER ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?? My dads a literal LAWYER you know that right babe?! I'm NOT going to let that happen!" "Do you even hear yourself right now??! LEAVE ME THE. FUCK. ALONE."

                            End of CW

You hang up the call and crumple to your bed with heaving sobs. You are interrupted by a knock on your door. Presuming it's your dad you walk over to open in and all but fling yourself out the door way knowing he's standing right then ready to hold you. Hug you and tell you everything will be okay like you're 13 or something. The blurred your vision and it was not your dad on the other side of the door. Your head hit his chest and you flung your arms up around his neck. "Dad I hate boys!" You sobbed. But then you realized the height wasn't right, the smell wasn't right, the arms and chest weren't right...

you practically jumped backwards and to your horror saw Joel Miller standing before you. His soft puppy dog eyes heavy with concern and care. "I-um sorry. I assumed it was my dad or I never would have" Joel held up a hand to cut you off. "It okay, you don't need to apologize...I've got a daughter of my own don't think I haven't had the same hug and those same tears." His voice was soft and gentle, and he smiled at the last comment. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay." You could only nod. "It's none of my business, but this guy sounds like bad news and it's a matter of your safety...does your dad know about all this?" You nodded again. "Yes he knows about Ben...although I'll need to update him on the new low that Ben stooped to today. But my dad knows and I feel safe...and in blocking Ben's number." Joel's brows were knit together. "Okay...I don't need to know about but your dad does and it sounds like you've got a good thing going there." You felt awkward and more than anything wanted to disappear and forget this interaction ever took place. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other and picked at your fingers "um yeah I think everything with be fine now" you said awkwardly. "Alright well I apologize for intruding into your private life, but I'm glad you're safe and under your dads roof." He started to walk away when you heard yourself say "Thank you Joel..I really appreciate it."he smiled at you and said "don't mention it" "You better finish up fixing that leak before my dad finds something else to break." Joel laughed "don't worry I'm just about done and I'll be out of yalls way in a jiffy." What a day... and it's only noon

#lovers #joel tlou #joel miller #smut #fanfic #joel and ellie #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff

[hannyoontify]

requested by anon

[15:47] 'jjun?' you called out. the door shut behind you quietly and you swiftly toed off your shoes and padded into the living room.

the lights in the living room and kitchen were turned off, the dim lights of the aquarium of junhui's pet fish being the only source of light in the dark room. after setting down your groceries in the kitchen, you wandered into the bedroom, where your boyfriend was lying in bed with his eyes (kinda) closed, just like you had suspected.

'jjunie? are you awake?' you called out again, a bit more softly this time. you didn't want to wake him up if he was asleep. jun shifted in his bed before lifting himself up to smile at you weakly.

'hey [nickname]' his voice sounded scratchy and hoarse and his eyes were bloodshot. 'i thought you got off work at 8 today'

you nodded. 'i said i had an emergency and seokmin let me go early'

jun winced as he tried to hitch himself higher up in the bed and you reached over to help. 'you didn't have to.. this isn't an emergency'

'my boyfriend is currently bedridden because he's sick. in my book, this classifies as an emergency' you smiled and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead. his skin was hot under your lips but you chose to ignore it, for now. 'how are you feeling?'

'better than earlier. my headache's almost gone and it doesn't feel like my throat's full of thorns whenever i swallow, but i could be better' jun nodded and motioned towards the empty mug on his nightstand. 'i made some of that honey lemon tea you made me last time, i think it helped'

you sighed. 'that's good. did you take any medicine?'

your boyfriend nodded.

'good. i'll be right back' you pressed a chaste kiss on his lips and before jun can protest and say that you'll also get sick, you had already left the room.

after changing out of your work clothes and putting on one of jun's old practice shirts and sweatpants, you made some more honey lemon tea. you learned from joshua that it was the best remedy for sore throats, so you've been using it religiously whenever you got sick. when you came back, jun had made himself comfortable in bed again, nearly drowning under his duvet.

'hey stranger' you said, setting down the piping hot mug of tea. 'i made you some more tea. i'm gonna go refill your water bottle'

jun watched you silently. he admired the way his shirt hung over your shoulders and how your lips jutted out into a small pout as you concentrated on trying to fix his super older thermometer. he watched the way stray strands of hair covered your forehead and eyes, causing you to squint as you bustled back and forth between the living room and his bedroom.

when jun texted you just an hour ago, telling you that he felt sick and wanted to see you, he didn't think you would drop everything and come to him right away. he meant like, after you got off work, but no, you insisted on coming right away. not that he minded, he liked being with you.

'why are you staring at me like that?' you asked in a teasing voice. jun snapped out of his little trance and gave you a small smile.

'nothing, just wondering what country i saved in my past life to have you in my life' he said in an equally taunting tone. you snorted and jokingly rolled your eyes with a small shake of your head as you replaced his empty tissue box with a new one.

jun watched you climb into his bed and slip under the covers. he shivered when he felt your cool skin lightly graze against his and cuddled up next to you, happy to be in close proximity with you.

he rested his head on your outstretched arm and wrapped his own around your torso and pulled you closer to him. you ran one hand through his hair, playing with the soft strands and the other hand curated a cold compress out of nowhere and pressed it against his hot forehead.

your boyfriend jumped a little at the sudden contact and made a small noise, complaining that it was cold. you apologized with a small laugh before whispering sweet nothings as your hand smoothed out his hair, stroking and caressing the soft tendrils.

jun felt himself drifting in and out of sleep, his eyelids feeling more and more heavy by the second. the warmth of your body and your soft touches combined with your low, quiet voice was lulling him into sleep.

'are you tired, my love?' you asked quietly. you could tell he was falling asleep by how his arms wrapped around you were going limp and his breaths were much more even and slow.

jun mumbled something incoherent and you smiled.

'go to sleep, jjun. i'll be here when i wake up'

'thank.. y.. you.... i mm-hnhlove you. '

you felt the smile on your face grow. 'i love you too, wen junhui.'

reblogs and feedback is always appreciated ^-^

#hannyoontify.works #seventeen #svt #seventeen fluff #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen blurbs #junhui fluff #junhui x reader #junhui imagines #svt x reader #jun #wen junhui #svt jun #seventeen jun #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #junhui fic #seventeen fic #seventeen x you

[vapemaster42069]

“Why is Cub peeling grapes?”

Impulse shrugged, toeing off his sneakers. “Shrooms, prolly.” He flopped onto his side, socked feet and cargo-short-ed legs flung over the back of the couch. “Cubby, you good?” 

Cub, wonder in his eyes, looked back. He seemed not to be glancing over, but to be watching the world pass in front of him like a rat looking out a bus window, wind in its fur and streetlights in its eyes. “I’m wonderful.” He looked back to his plate, adoration plain on his face. “I love grapes.”

Impulse tossed him a thumbs up. “Good to hear, man.”

Bdubs nodded. Sometimes, Cub was better left to his own devices. “I brought the goods.”

“Did you remember the sauerkraut this time?” Skizz, who was determinedly not looking away from his Mortal Kombat game on the tv, cocked an eyebrow in a preemptive, judgemental jab. 

“Get your own sauerkraut, man.” Bdubs tossed a tinfoil-wrapped hotdog to Impulse, one into the kitchen to his right where Tango was attempting to fix the leaky faucet, his legs sticking out from under the sink into the middle of the tile floor, and one vaguely towards the couch between Skizz and Impulse. “Hotdog Guy sends his regards.”

Impulse raised a brow. “Does he actually, or are you relying on your weird cute-boy-senses again?”

“It’s not a cute-boy-sense! It’s my incredible rizz!”

“Oh, my god.” Impulse groaned, to Skizz’s cackles.

Bdubs grinned, nudging Impulse’s head, which was resting on the ground, with one of his sneakers. “I could show you, if you need any tips…”

“Broooo.” Impulse threw an arm over his face, his ears reddening. “You’re the worst. And– and you!” He half-glared at Skizz, who was still idly giggling at his reaction. “I have plenty of rizz!”

“Yeah? When are we gonna get to meet your boyfriend then?” Bdubs sang, drawing out ‘boyfriend’ as long as he could before losing his composure to a chortle.

“He’s– Hey! He’s not my boyfriend!” He swatted at one of Bdubs’ calves. “He’s just a friend.”

Tango, ever with good timing, emerged from his hazard site that was the kitchen. “Oh, are we talking about Impulse’s boyfriend?”

Bdubs wrinkled his nose. “Why do you smell like fire? Aren’t you fixing the plumbing?”

Tango shrugged, attempting to push up his glasses with one elbow, hands full of assorted tool boxes. “It happens.”

“It– what happens?”

“Oh, you know. This, that.” He gestured vaguely with his head.

Bdubs blinked. “O–key. Weirdo.”

Tango bumped him with a shoulder. “I hear Cute Hotdog Boy said hello this morning… When's the wedding?”

“Well, he didn’t say hello, exactly, but I could sense it.”

“With your cute-boy-senses?”

Bdubs groaned, a traitorous smile quivering over his lips. “Fuck off with that! But I’m totally going to ask him out tomorrow.”

“You said that yesterday!” Skizz piped up, still intently focused on his game.

“Is he into you?” Impulse, still hiding his face, poked at Bdubs’ ankle.

“Oh, he’s so into me. I can tell these things.” Bdubs scratched at his neck idly, cheeks reddening.

“Oh, my god.”

“He’s gone off the deep end.” Skizz signed, mock-mournfully.

“I’m serious!”

“You’ve never talked to the guy.”

“So? He doesn’t talk much! And, I said hi this morning, and he nodded at me, and he already had my order ready.” Bdubs crossed his arms, leaning back in what Skizz would later describe as a swoon, and what Bdubs then imagined was a badass, cool-guy lean.

“I think he’s just learned your schedule, man. You’re there at the same time every day.”

“But he basically said hi today! He doesn’t usually do that…” He hummed.

“He’s lost in the sauce, bro. Or the hotdog water.”

“Lost in the ketchup, more like. ”

“He’s a hotdog dude, man.” Skizz redirected to Bdubs, “How great could he be?”

“He’s awesome, you don’t even know. Plus, what do you have against the hotdog industry, Skizz?”

“Nothing, but what’s a hotdog cutie have in common with an optometry major?”

“He’s in herbology, I saw his bag one time! It had a bunch of band patches, too, and pins– He’s so cool, his hair is dyed this crazy white and he’s into plants and nature and indie rock–”

“Homie. “

“–and he always smells so nice, too. Like … “

“Like hotdogs?” Tango supplied.

“Yeah…” Bdubs sighed dreamily.

“Dude. Bro. Man. Have you ever asked him about this stuff?”

“No, but–”

“And he’s never said hi to you?

“Well, no, but–”

“Homie, I think you’ve just developed a pavlovian response to this guy.”

“Have not!”

“Bro. You always see him when you’re hungry, right?”

“Well, yeah.”

“And he gives you food?”

“Yeah. It’s his job!”

“It’s also his job to make you feel good, man.”

“Is not! You’ll see, I’m asking him out tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay, buddy." Skizz smiled softly, looking away from his game. "You do that."

“I will!” Bdubs looked down at his half-wrapped hotdog. “I will.”

#my writing #in my docs this is titled “freaks” #ethubs #if it's not clear Cute Hotdog Boy is etho #pt 2 is sitting in my drafts but i haven't decided if i like it or not lmao

[acourtofinkandpapyrus]

My Little Shadow: Part eleven (Azriel x reader)

Warnings: Creepy naked monster, attempted kidnapping, sort of daemati influcing thing?

Part ten Part twelve

Tag list: @mis-lil-red @bubybubsters @luvmoo @rorel1a @minakay

After disappearing into the forest you meet... Azriel? No, that's not right... What was I saying?

“I mean, I’m not complaining, but did you have to winnow me into the middle of the forest?  At the dead of night?”  I mumble, letting my shadows feel my displeasure.  Currently in their human-esk form, they cross their arms.

Fighting back tears, I mutter, “I know, I know.”

I let myself rest against a tree, not able to help the racking sobs and fat tears that rolled down my face.

Who had I been kidding?  How could someone so beautiful love someone so wretched as me.

“Hey little girl, don’t cry.”  I freeze, choking down any noise I was making.

Some rotten foul scent had appeared, and I hadn’t noticed, my nose was clogged up.  But now I did, but I couldn’t pinpoint where the voice was coming from.

“I can make you forget, if you’d like?”  The wheezy voice asked, high pitched and unpleasant.

Looking at the tree, I wondered if I could scale it quickly enough to escape whatever creature was speaking.

“I can take away your pain.  You’re in love, are you not?”  I freeze, even as my shadows tug at me, screaming at me to run away.

“What- who are you?”  I ask, my curiosity winning out over my fear.

“I am the Graile, I have been helping people since before the world turned, and I’ll be here long after it stops.”  The creature hissed as it came into view.

It was humanoid, but extremely thin and pale as the moon.  It’s eyes were like an owls, huge, all seeing and yellow.  Annnnnd it was completely naked.

Great.  I was stuck in the forest with an extremely strange and naked creature after watching the person I thought I loved with his hand up another female’s skirt.

This was definitely not my night.

“Can you put on some clothes?”  I ask, trying very hard not to look down.  I really didn’t need to see that.

The creature laughed, and I felt a little uneasy.  “Does my form bother you?  Here, let me fix that-”

I gape as it changes to Azriel before my eyes, now with pants, but still topless.  “Does this form more suit your liking?”

My throat closes up as Az- this thing, came closer to me, his eyes piercing my soul.  “I’m sorry for hurting you sweetheart.”  I tried not to shiver as his hand reached out, cupping my face.

Whatever inside me that was screaming that this was wrong died down.  How could it be wrong?  I loved Azriel, and he loved me, he wasn’t choosing Elain, he was choosing me.

As he hugged me, I melted into his embrace, suddenly feeling sleepy as he lifted me up to carry me.

“Don’t worry, I won't let anyone hurt you ever again.”  He said, and I nestled into his arms, drifting off to sleep until the sound of metal being unsheathed brought me back to my senses.

“Let her go.”  A familiar voice growled, but I couldn’t place it.  When I went to crane my neck around to look, Azriel held me closer, stopping me.

“I don’t think she wants to go anywhere, do you pet?”  Azriel asked me, and in response I shook my head, nestling in further.

At this point, I didn’t even care who the other person was, I knew that Azriel would take care of them.

“Hold on.”  He whispered into my ear before turning and sprinting through the forest, holding me close as he ran.

It was like that for a few minutes, and that little voice that told me that something was wrong piped up again.

“Why is he running?  When did you get here in his arms?  Why isn’t he using his shadows???”

These questions hit me like a bucket of cold water, waking me up.  I didn’t remember Azriel picking me up, why is that?

I sneak a glance behind us and-

Azriel was chasing us, his shadows propelling him forward as he shouted my name.

This is when the memory hits me.

This is not Azriel, I didn’t know what the thing is.

It hadn’t noticed my change, and so when I shifted, and it looked down, it completely wasn’t expecting the punch I threw.

We tumbled to the ground, and I scrambled away.

The thing reached out a hand to grab me, but Azriel was on top of it in moments.

The two fought, but that thing hadn’t been trained as an Illyrian Warrior, and Az had.

Az pulled out his dagger, ready to end this, but he paused as the thing shifted again.  It looked like me.  It wore the same beautiful black dress, her eyes full of love and adoration.

It made me feel sick.

It started to whisper something so low I could hear, and I saw Az hesitate.

I looked around, and saw that one of Azriel’s knives had been tossed away in the fight.  I grabbed it quickly, seeing Azriel’s stone face start to shift, I didn’t hesitate to shove him off and stab the creature in the heart.

It shrieked, the sound horrible and deafening as it shifted back into it’s original form.

I stumbled back, falling to a sitting position.  Azriel and I just sat there, wide eyed at this bizarre creature that was now, hopefully, dead.

We looked at eachother, both of us waiting for the other to speak.

“So- what did it say?”  I finally ask, realizing that he wasn’t going to be the first to speak.

“What did what say?”  He said, not really looking at me.

I snarled, and he looked up at me.  “Do not, bullshit me right now.”  I said, and my shadows, which had been resting near him, slipped over to me.

“First, I was told you- that you felt the same way I did, and was dragged around town to get all fancy.  Then, I find you with your hand halfway up Elain’s dress.  Then, as if my night wasn’t already shit, I was kidnapped by a clone of you.  So tell me what the fuck it said to you as me.”

He looked away, keeping silent.

I forced myself to my feet, storming off the best I could.

“Y/N!”  He called out, and I heard the sound of him getting up.  I didn’t look back as I continued forward.

Maybe I had no right to feel like this, maybe I should have just let him take me back home without a fight, but right now I didn’t care.

No one had ever had a hold on me like this male had, but he didn’t feel the same way, and now he was going to be an asshole.

So no, I didn’t turn back as he made a sound of pain, or when he shouted my name again.

I did stop when I realized the footsteps had stopped.

I turned, and had to laugh as I saw Azriel, a ball of wings, legs and arms hanging in a net.  Since the creature had removed move of his weapons, and the rest he had unsheathed a minute ago in an attempt to kill that thing Graile.

He shot me a glare as I almost doubled over in laughter.

“Can you please get me out of this?”  He snapped, and I looked up at him with a grin.  “Well, I don’t know.  Can I?”  I taunt, settling down on a stump.

He groaned as he realized I was going to leave him up there until I got exactly what I wanted.

“Y/N- Please,”  He started, and I held up a finger.  “Answer my question, then you can talk.”

“What que-”  He started, and I cut him off sharply, “The same question as before.  What did the Graile say to you as me?”

He paused, and I shifted into a more comfortable position, closing my eyes.  “We have all, night spymaster.”

“She said- she said she forgave me.”  He said, and I open one eye, watching him spin slowly in the net as he continued to struggle to escape.  I wondered why he didn’t just use his shadows.

I look down, and I realize his shadows have pooled around my feet, and I grin.  “It looks like I’m not the only one that thinks you need to open up.”

He scowls as I stand, walking over to the net so he could almost reach me.  “What was I forgiving you for?”

He scowled, responding with something other than an answer.  “What did other me say to you that made you crawl into his arms?”

My skin prickles at his words.  Was he jealous?  That was… extremely stupid.

I rolled my eyes.  “Oh yeah, I totally had my wits about me when I ‘crawled’ into the creepy clone’s arms.”  I poke him and he lets out a grunt.

“That’s not an answer.”  He said, and I squinted angrily at him.  “You forget who’s the one in the net.”

His hazel eyes met mine, as hard and piercing as ever.  “You answer my questions, I answer yours.”

We stared at each other, neither of us letting up.

His grin was a white slash in the darkness.  “As you said, we have all night.”

#a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #acomaf #acotar #acowar #reader x azriel #azriel acotar #y/n x azriel #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #y/n reader #y/n #y/n x shadowsinger #shadowsinger x reader #shadowsinger #shadows #velaris #sarah j maas #night court #monster #acosf #acotar fanfiction

[duckietiewritestoo]

Not My Problem (Jonathan Crane x Doctor! Reader)

I did not know how to end this so you get this weird perfect ending! This chapter was inspired by the events of when Rachel zaps Crane. It's a hard scene to watch as a Jonathan Crane fangirl. 

Warnings: Cheesy....I think

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_

The horse at my door was breathing fire, exhaling puffs of smoke, making me cough from it. I didn’t even know how it got up the stairs of the apartment, let alone how it was breathing fire. Something happened in the city that caused the water mains and piping to burst. I blamed my landlord for not keeping up to date with anything. I paid him a lot for that. Now smoke that induced nightmares filled my house, I could probably sue him.

What really had my attention was the masked man convulsing on the floor. I guess the horse brought him up to me. I didn’t notice him prior to that, I was busy hallucinating the horse and its flames. The man lying on the ground looked like a dying scarecrow. There was a crackling and a soft smell of fabric being burnt. It smelled like human skin too. I realized something was being zapped like a bug to a light. 

It wasn’t my problem and I didn’t want to deal with it. I knew who it was, I worked for him in Arkham in his medical ward. I rushed over and tore off the electrical wires from whatever tape gun tased Jonathan Crane. It zapped me too, causing me to yelp, and I quickly tossed it to the side, ripping Crane’s mask off his face. He was gasping for air. I delicately turned his face to look at me. His face wasn’t scared. His skin was steaming, not a great sign.

“What the heck happened out there,” I snapped rudely, pulling him by the arm. Jonathan groaned. Now that he was on his feet, I could see his attire, a worn and torn straightjacket that acted like a coat and his work blazer he always wore. His leather boots were scuffed, a rare sight for me. “Actually, what happened to you?” I asked.

“Just help me,” he coughed out. I sighed, rolling my eyes. He managed to utter those words weakly in a hoarse voice that I could barely understand what he was saying. I dragged Jonathan inside of my apartment. He groaned, his head falling limp.

“Can you walk?” I asked. The trip to the couch wasn’t that long but dragging Jonathan just made it harder. 

“(Name), I’ve been electrified, what do you think?” he retorted. I scoffed. Boy, he was rude.

“So you had enough strength to tell me that but you don’t have enough to walk? Tsk, disappointing,” I teased. “C’mon, let’s get you fixed up, you big baby.” I grunted, carrying Crane all the way to the couch where I put him down. He was heavy. I almost started sweating. As I laid him down on the couch, Jonathan groaned, squeezing his eyes shut in pain.  His breathing was heavy. I had to be gentle. “Are you okay?” I whispered. I delicately touched where his wounds were. He flinched. 

“Ow, be gentle!” Jonathan exclaimed. His eyes showed actual concern. I hadn’t seen that before. All I saw were cold blue eyes that loved it when someone was in pain. 

“I’ll try to be,” I muttered. I stuffed pillows behind his head to prop him up. I was a professional medical doctor, I knew what I was doing. We’d have to run water under his burns and there was no way I was keeping him under the sink. “I’ll be back,” I said. I grabbed a pot. Right, no water. I sighed, grabbing a flower vase and taking the dead plant out. I poured the little water I had against his face. Jonathan winced. 

“I asked you to be gentle!” he replied angrily. I huffed.

“Do you want to look handsome or have scars for the rest of your life, huh?” I spat. I frowned. “Not saying you’d be horrible to look at with scars, you’d still be handsome, but they might bother you for the rest of your life. So let me work my magic, Jonathan.” I watched his cheeks become a rosy shade of pink as he went silent. I’d have to run his burns under water for twenty minutes but with the pipes broken, the flower water would have to do.

Luckily, I had gauze bandages used for treating wounds somewhere in the house. Some were even sterile. “Stay here, okay,” I replied, getting up. Jonathan grabbed my hand. I stopped. “What do you need now?”

“It’s not that bad, I can handle myself for now,” he replied. “I don’t have major burns.”

“But you have minor wounds, that still counts for something.”

“I said I can handle it!” Crane tried sitting up. He winced, flinching as he fell back down onto the pillows. I huffed.

“I’ll be back.”

I did come back as promised. I had the bandages and wrapped up Jonathan’s face, making it snug to cover up his burns. He never flinched once while I did. He stayed calm, but I knew he was wanting to flinch and wince. I chuckled. “Do you want a lollipop for being such a calm patient,” I softly asked.

“No, I’m not a child, (Name),” he replied. He looked down, his gaze softening. “But I could use something sweet. Tonight has been…..strange.” I chuckled.

“Yeah, first the pipes burst, I started seeing stuff, a horse that breathed fire approached me, and I helped you,” I replied, putting the supplies away. I sat down on the couch. Jonathan sat up straight. 

“I might have been the root of that problem.”

“I figured, you’re always doing suspicious things in the basement at Arkham. I just didn’t think you’d be getting zapped and nearly getting fried.” Jonathan’s cheeks blushed. I noticed this. He was going off and on with turning red. 

“Are you sick as well?” I asked. I pressed the back of my hand against Jonathan’s cheeks. They started to heat up more. I pulled back. I scoffed, realizing he wasn’t sick. Those wide blue eyes were telling another story. “Don’t you dare tell me you feel something towards me or else I’m throwing you back out into the streets while everyone runs around screaming,” I threatened.

“Then I won’t say anything. Are you always this violent outside of work?” He chuckled, the corners of his lips curling into a cocky smile. 

“No.”

“Then only towards me, I assume?”

“Maybe.” 

“Only towards you,” I teased. “Now rest up, you can stay on the couch tonight. It’s really not my problem on how you got tased and I shouldn’t be so nice, but I am and don’t abuse it. Or I will call the cops and tell them you’re here.” Crane frowned, pleading with big eyes.

“Please, (Name), don’t let them find me,” he begged sarcastically. “I don’t know what I’d do without you if they took me.” I smiled, leaning in. 

“I wouldn’t let them take you, unless you deserve it.” Jonathan pouted and he took my hands. He curled his lower lip. He looked kinda cute like that. I blushed. 

“Would you let them take me?” he asked. 

“No, I wouldn’t.” Jonathan sat up and wrapped his arms around me. I let him. I would’ve fought it, but I let him, and I leaned against him. His hand brushed back my hair. He leaned in close to my ear and I could feel his warm breath tickle my skin.

“Would you like to see my mask?” he whispered.

#long post #nolanverse #batman begins #cillian murphy #jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #x reader #one shot #batman #scarecrow #fanfiction #romance #cheesy #duckiewritez

[crypticjackal13]

Can I request Mk x Female s/o who can best be descibed as 'soft bunny' the small, quiet, sweet and soft type. And by complete accident when visiting his gf he meets her father for the first time and, unlike his daughter, he is Terrifying, stoic and stone faced, build like sandy, and looks like he eats grizzly bears and metal bars for breakfast. Bonus for extra funnies, he doesn't even dislike Mk, he's a protective sure, but he's mostly curious but his aura makes his questions sound threatening.

Bam boom bop!

"Power Move" (798 w.c)

MK x Fem!Reader

Funny Romantic Oneshot

Pronouns: she her

CW: None, comment if there is

“MK! Good, you made it!” Y/n waved from her home’s front porch as she saw MK’s delivery vehicle pull into her driveway. He waved too, jingling the keys in his hands as he walked up to his girlfriend and gave her a kiss.

“Just so you know, I can’t leave just yet so we can get to the park. My dad’s working on fixing my sink,” she led MK inside, pointing over at the kitchen. “We can head out after he’s done.”

“Your dad? Have I met him?” MK peeked in, really only seeing a pair of legs sticking out from under the sink. 

“No, I don’t think you have! Here,” she went into the room and poked one of the ankles with her foot. There was a surprised grumble, before a man who was built like a truck appeared. MK could feel his soul leaving his body. How could someone so sweet come from…this utterly terrifying man?? 

“Dad! This is my boyfriend, MK! You know, the Monkey Kid!” She introduced MK, tugging on his arm to bring him closer. “MK, this is my dad!”

“Very nice to meet you, Mr. l/n!” MK stammered. The towering figure reached out a hand. When MK took it, he thanked Buddha he had mystic monkey strength to handle the pure strength of his grip. 

“You too, kid,” Mr. l/n seemed to glare down at him, but then when he looked at his daughter, he seemed ever so slightly softer. “Why is he here?”

“We’re going to go meet up with Mei and Redson at the park in a little while! Kinda like a double date!” She smiled. He grunted in response before turning back to the sink and turning the faucet to see if it worked. Unfortunately, the pipe underneath started dripping water. 

“Mind if I have a look at it, sir?” MK cautiously stepped forward. Gods, it was like when he first met Sandy. Except there was no way this guy had ever met a therapy cat.

“You can try.” He scoffed. MK rolled up the sleeves of his jacket and went under the sink. He found a wrench and tried to adjust things, however it kind of exploded when he thought he’d fixed it. 

“Dad, you need to turn off the sink first.” Y/n commented. The water stopped. MK sighed, but then a lightbulb turned on in his brain. 

“I can shrink myself down to see what’s wrong in the pipes!” He suggested.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Mr. l/n said. However, y/n gave a thumbs up. 

“Hey, there ya go! I’ll shine a light down there, and give you some string to hold onto!” She left the room for a moment, leaving MK alone with her dad.

“How long have you been seeing my daughter?” The sound of his voice was much more intimidating now that it was just them.

“Uh, a little while now actually!” MK responded. 

“If you hurt her, I’ll squash you like a bug. Capiche?”

“Yup. Hear ya loud and clear.” MK was shaking in his boots, but then y/n came back into the room, flashlight and string in hand. 

“Alright, think tiny!” She said, and MK transformed into a much smaller version of himself. She caught him in her hand and set him on the counter, where she tied a bit of string around him.

“I’m ready, send me down!” He called. She dangled him over the drain and slowly lowered him. 

It was dark, but not for long as she got the light on. He could see a large blockage of something just up ahead. He saw how some of the water that had been going earlier was pooling around it, so that it couldn’t go through. MK tugged on the string and was helped out of the drain, where he made himself big again after untying the string. 

“There’s a chunk of something in there. If you get it out, it should be fine!” 

“Hm.” 

Mr. L/n got back under the sink, putting on some gloves and detaching the pipes from each other. The blockage was removed and then the thing was rebuilt. Running the water again, it went smoothly. 

“Oh good! Thanks, guys.” Y/n thanked the boys. Her dad stood up again and actually smiled a little.

“Thanks, kid.” The man spoke firmly, but his tone was different in a positive way. 

“With that all sorted out, let’s get going! We don’t wanna keep the others waiting too long!” Y/n said, giving her dad a quick hug and heading toward the door with MK in tow. He waved at her dad and then they piled into the deliver vehicle to got see the others. 

Well that went well.

#lego monkie kid #lmk headcanon #lmk x reader #lmk #lego monkie kid headcanons #oneshot #romantic oneshot #fem reader #lmk mk #lmk qi xiaotian #monkie kid x reader #monkie kid mk #mk x reader #mk x fem reader

[spicycinnabun]

Leggyman

WC: 625 | Rated: T | on Ao3

~

Mickey was on his hands and knees under the sink between the open cupboard doors, only his bottom half visible. 

Fiona had called them that morning and enlisted the help of a handyman. Her kitchen sink was leaking. And, since Mickey was an honorary Gallagher now, he had to fix it for free. He fit the bill perfectly with his dirty wife-beater, tool belt, and brown steel-toed boots.

There was just one problem. 

“Uh… Mick,” Ian said, rubbing his forehead.

Mickey’s right hand briefly appeared and wiggled impatiently in Ian’s direction. “What? Hand me the fuckin’ pipe wrench.” 

Ian grabbed the wrench, leaning down to drop it into Mickey’s waiting palm. “I think we gotta go shopping for some shorts.”

“The hell are you talkin’ about?” Mickey grumbled.

There was some wrenching, then some clanking, some banging, and a few curses. Ian watched Mickey’s ass jiggle with his boisterous movements before he decided to reply.

“How do I put this delicately? I can see—”

A sharp, catcalling whistle cut Ian off as Fiona breezed into the kitchen. 

Mickey jolted, bumping his head on the underside of the sink. “Fuck!”

“Nice buns,” she commented, grinning as she grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and twisted open the cap. 

Ian crossed his arms and tried to keep a straight face as Mickey scrambled out and stood up. He was unsuccessful. “Are you okay?” he asked, reaching out to rub Mickey’s head.

Mickey was having none of it, though, ducking away from Ian’s hand with a scowl and his eyebrows so high they looked like two boomerangs. 

Fiona gave him a teasing once over. “Did you cut your jeans into jorts?” 

Mickey had, in fact, used Ian’s gardening shears to cut a very tattered pair of jeans so he could still wear them, and he had gone too far. Way, way too far.

“Fuck you both,” he said, neck and ears turning red as he flipped them off. “See if I finish fixin’ this now.”

Fiona laughed. “I’m sorry, Mickey. I do want the sink fixed. But please change first so this doesn’t turn into a porno.” She gave Ian a knowing look. “No fuckin’ in my kitchen, got it?” 

Then she was off, and it was just the two of them again. Mickey was so red at this point his head looked like a tomato.

Ian took pity on his husband and didn’t laugh, grabbing his gym bag that was on the stool and pulling out his basketball shorts. “Here,” he offered. 

Mickey snatched them from him without a word and went to the bathroom, slamming the door. 

Ian approached it, leaning against the doorframe as he listened to Mickey change. “For the record, I think you looked great in your jorts. You know I love those legs.” He smirked. He was teasing Mickey now, but he also wasn’t lying. “You don’t have to throw them away. Can wear them just for me…”

“You’re a dead man, you know that?” Mickey threatened, but when he opened the door, he didn’t look mad anymore. He also looked ridiculously adorable in Ian’s shorts. Now, with the opposite problem, they were way too long, hitting just below his kneecaps.

Ian tugged him forward by the white drawstring, and Mickey let him, gaze gentling the way it always did when Ian pulled him close. Ian leaned down, framing his face with big hands, and Mickey rose slightly onto the balls of his feet to accept the kiss.

After they separated simultaneously, Mickey slapped the jorts against Ian’s chest, and Ian’s fingers wrapped around rough denim. He gave Ian a flirty little eyebrow wiggle and a grin that showed off his bunny teeth, then quickly ducked back under the sink.

#mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #ficlet #fic #gallavich #sillyposting #shameless #ian x mickey #mickey x ian #this is bum #i mean dumb #the only plumber's crack i wanna see #short shorts #mickey's legs #🦵️

[seoness]

More Than Our Servitude

(TV Show!) Sandor Clegane x Fem!Reader | Fluff & Romance | One-shot | Requested | SFW TRIGGER WARNING: The Reader-insert has experienced physical abuse/corporal punishment and canon-typical class oppression.

Summary: You lived your life as one of the washerwomen of the Red Keep, only seeing the Hound in passing. Still, when the madness of the Battle of Blackwater erupted, he came for you. The Hound is weary from battle, but you try and soothe what little you can. Reader-Insert info: Kind, caring, gentle. Minor backstory just to ground you in the world.

Smoke, sweat, and horse. You were used to those smells. It clung to the cloaks of Kingsguards and the men-at-arms of the Red Keep, lingering on their linens. It was the other, thick and heavy, a stench you hoped never to learn, that made bile push up your throat. Burnt flesh. Dropping the fold of your cloak, a tuft of Stranger's black mane took its place in your hand.

Everything felt like a strange dream... You waited and waited for it to end, for you to wake and look up at the planks of the bunk bed above. A morn like the hundreds of morns before them.

How many days had it been since the entire world glowed? When the blackness of the night and the steady drums of Stannis Baratheon's fleet gave way to bursting green and thunder. Closing your eyes, you could still see it. The green shard soaring up into the sky, like the Seven Hells themselves had opened, ready to swallow the city whole. Why had you been so foolish? Why did you have to go out by the washer lines? Maybe if you had stayed inside and prayed with the others, you'd been spared their screams? The shrieks of burning men.

The dream hadn't gone, plate and mail chirred behind you. The Hound hadn't said much since that night. Drunk and bloodied, he had come for you.

"If possible, could our camp for the night be by water?" you asked, peering back the usual clenched face met you, his gaze empty.

Clegane had said little of that night, but even if he had, what answer could you offer to make the pain any less? The few times he spoke, he cursed them all. Only one thing you knew for certain.

"I'm sorry Lady Sansa wouldn't come," you said.

"Should have gone to you first. You'd not frightened the little bird," he replied.

Hearing him talk was enough to make you sigh out in relief.

"Wouldn't I? I am a stranger to her. With all that she's been through, I doubt that poor girl would be quick to trust anyone but if I had convinced her... I know it's selfish, but I wouldn't have wanted to know. Better to remain oblivious." Your answer made the Hound look down, his brow furrowing. "I admit that I do not know much about horses, but three on one back?"

"That what's been going on inside that head of yours?" he grunted.

"No," you replied. "I dream about a bath and a chance to wash our clothes."

Clegane huffed and fixed his gaze back on the path ahead. He had tried to rid himself of the stench, the rag had wiped away the blood and layers of mud, but the stench of burnt flesh stayed.

The river twined through the forest, cutting through the earth, eroding it away and exposing roots, making pine trees bow to the water. Clegane pressed his heels into the sides of his stallion, muttering about being crushed while you both slept.

"Please don't," you piped as the man swung off and grabbed the reigns.

Stranger already stomping as you slid into the saddle, gripping the edge like a vice.

"He needs rest. You're lighter, I walk quicker. Relax and he'll stop," Clegane said.

"Can't warhorses bite one's face off?"

"True. So what got you so tightened up, think he'll reach that pretty little face and tear it off while you're on his back?" he snorted and began to lead his horse.

Each attempt you made to suggest a campsite was promptly dismissed.

The ground is too damp. You'd be sleeping in a bog. There weren't enough shrubs. Anyone could see you. There were too many shrubs. Someone could sneak up and slit your throat.

Finally, when the sky had turned purple, and the sun had gone behind the trees, the Hound was content. The river wider, its waters slow, and no pine loomed above, ready to swat you both like bugs. Clegane's hands closed around your waist, and for the briefest of moments, he was so very near.

It had been easy back at the Red Keep. You would mostly see him twice a day, come morn and eve, when the Hound made his way from the White Sword Tower to be by King Joffrey's side. He was always busy, always moving, never staying long enough to see the flush across your face after meeting his gaze.

It was harder on the back of Stranger. If you leaned back, he'd be there, and with a slight movement of his arms, you'd finally feel the Hound's embrace. They never did, his hands kept rest by his legs, and even those were only close enough so you'd stay securely on Stranger's back. But sitting in front of him, it didn't matter how much your cheeks prickled if he couldn't see your face.

It was impossible when he helped you down. To feel like nothing in his hands, no more cumbersome than the basket of laundry. Darting to the side as soon your feet touched the ground, your only defense, you looked around.

"I'll fetch something for the fire."

"Going to check the surroundings," he muttered and strode off.

You hadn't been able to bring much, only the satchel that accompanied you on your daily duties around the castle. Rags, soap, and scented oils. Not precisely items one would want in the wilderness, but with them, you managed to prepare the shoreline for his bath.

You were feeding the campfire with another log when the Hound emerged from the dark. The strands of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. His breathing quick.

"Were there any problems?" you asked.

"No."

Rising, you wiped away the dirt from your hands and nodded towards the shore. "You may go first, Clegane."

"I didn't take you with me so I'd have a servant," he spat.

Splaying your skirt, you curtsied deep, head bowed. "Your bath is ready, my lord," you said softly before meeting his dark eyes once more, smiling. "That is what I would have said if I was your servant. If you need help with your armor, I'll try and-"

"And that's not serving me?" Clegane waved to the forest around you. "Are you mistaking these trees for stone? This is not the Red Keep, woman. Speak however you want."

"But I am?"

The hand soared through the air. Flinching, you shut your eyes. So now it happened. The Hound was like the others. It just took him longer. Why even get your hopes up? You should have stayed in the Red Keep... with him, it would hurt all the more.

"Open your damn eyes." His voice was just as grating and deep, but it no longer held its edge. "I'm not hitting you."

You obliged his command but the anger that had been written across his face was gone. "I'm sorry."

"That more of my honorable brothers' work?" Clegane asked.

You had never seen it, only heard the whispers, the beating of Lady Sansa by the Kingsguards' hands, not one whisper had been by his.

"The list of those who don't strike servants is far easier to give," you chuckled, "even other servants hit those a rung lower."

Tugging on one of the straps, his left pauldron soon hit the ground, then the next. Cursing Clegane undid the laces of his brigandine. Metal clanged as he tossed the boots and before he had time to remove the undertunic you had turned your back to him.

You only heard his voice, "Anyone strikes you again and I'll kill them."

The man strode into the river and you took refuge in the task at hand. It was not hard, you'd done it a thousand times, scooping up his cloak and tunic. He had kept his breeches on.

"I'll only go a bit downstream to wash these," you called and snagged your satchel.

"Stay within sight of the camp."

It wasn't too far away. The camp gone behind some trees, but you'd see it again with a short walk. Shedding your layers until the slip of undyed linen was the only thing keeping you from standing bare, you bit your lip as you entered the waters. There was no slope, the river claiming you up to your waist and the sharp sting of cold robbing you of any warmth. Soaking the cloth as your teeth shattered, squealing as a wind blew in.

A rubbing of soap. Wringing it up. Smacking the wool against the stone. Again and again. Your own cloak the next.

Smack.

Smack.

You didn't hear. The branch that broke, the footsteps—

"What are you doing?" the voice almost made the cloak slip from your fingers and float away along the river.

Spinning on your heel, you hugged the wool to your breast. No pine loomed above you but a Hound.

"Are you trying to make it easy for any broken man that finds you? You think what's left in these forests are good people? Rapers, murderers, and thieves," Clegane said.

"Y-You checked the surroundings."

Your gaze flickered down, leaving the angered stare and sending your heart hammering as you took it all in. The breeches clung to his legs and the swordbelt hastily fastened by his hip. Until then, him bare had been a figment of your imagination. The arms were thick with muscle and the chest wide. Despite youth being behind him and time leaving his face weathered, it had done little against his body. Clegane was of nobility, yet he had none of their softness. The lower of his arms tanned but faded to skin pale as milk by his shoulders.

"—within the sight of the camp," he snapped.

Huh? He had spoken, but for how long or much you couldn't tell. The anger hadn't gone from his face. Clegane wouldn't hit you. He swore he'd kill anyone who tried but explaining one's actions wasn't a favorable trait in any servant. One was to bow. One was to apologize, fault or not. But he wanted no servant either. Facing him, eyes that bore into one's soul, you steeled yourself and smiled. Gently. Pretending not to feel the heat on your cheeks.

"Without this rock, I wouldn't be able to wash our clothes. Just dunking the cloth up and down won't do much of anything. Beating it against the rock loosens the dirt up," you explained, and when no snarl came you wrung the cloak up again and hit it against the stone. "See?"

Clegane said nothing as he held out his hand, and there was only to accept defeat but when you stepped up on shore the man shoved his swordbelt in your hands.

"Sit and hold this," he commanded and looked to the cloak still pinned to your breast, the mouth twitched as he spoke. "That clean?"

Nod.

Taking his tunic and with some minor pointers, he began the work instead. You couldn't look away. Sandor Clegane, the fearsome Hound, the first Kingsguard that hadn't taken his knight's vows. A man feared by all... ordered around by a washerwoman.

"What?" Clegane asked, only then did you feel the grin on your lips.

His glare didn't make the smile go. "You are a lord, is this how it feels to be one?"

"Not a lord," Clegane corrected. "Got no keep. No land."

"I believe Lord Tyrion would disagree with such an explanation," you said.

"The Imp doesn't give a rat's ass about the truth. A lord with no land nor keep is just as useless as a knight with no shield or sword," Clegane replied.

It was like flipping a coin. On the one side was the man that could snarl with little to no provocation, and on the other was the one that stood stalwart with his back turned as you bathed. The man that aided you in erecting branches so you could dry your clothes by the fire.

Sitting down, you allowed yourself to give in and feel the ache in your legs from the ride. Clegane did what he always did, walking about, tending to his horse, checking the saddlebags but then and again, you felt his eyes linger. The white slip clung to your skin, leaving little of you for him to guess... You had heard the stories. The hunger of men after a battle. If Clegane hungered, he had never come to you to still it.

You hadn't eaten. Hells, even before the escape, you hadn't. It wasn't like the King would empty his larder to feed servants when the risk of a siege loomed over them. It was perfectly expected. Who's stomach wouldn't rumble? Looking up, you met his eyes, but it wasn't like you could excuse yourself somewhere. Acting like nothing had occurred, you glanced over the forest and river.

A piece of cured meat was pressed into your hand. "Here. Eat."

Clegane seated himself by the fire, watching like a hawk.

"I'm not eating our last food just because my stomach rumbled the loudest. You are the one with a sword, and what good is a washerwoman against rapers, murderers, and thieves?" you replied and held it back towards him.

It made sense. He'd listen, just as he had with the rock, but Clegane didn't move.

"People like me go hungry all the time, I'm used to it," you said but it only made his face twist. "I'm fine."

Biting a smaller piece off for yourself, you tried again. He had to be hungry. But the meat still hovered in the air.

Sighing, you leaned forward, closing the distance, and forced your voice deep, trying to imitate his voice, "Open. Chew. Swallow."

The dark eyes flickered down before the food disappeared from your hand. "Too stubborn for your own good," he muttered.

You savored the little piece you had, the taste of salt and venison filling your mouth. Now, all that was left was to wait for your cloaks to dry. You'd sleep. Get back on Stranger and the day would repeat like the one before it. A new normal. A better normal.

"I'd had gone to you." The rasp pulled you from thought, the stars had begun to show in the night sky, Clegane's gaze fixed on the fire. "A lady like that knows how to ride a horse."

"But you don't owe me anything, we've barely talked..."

Before Joffrey Baratheon was made King, you had only seen him in the halls of the Red Keep. A greeting, a wishing of good luck if he was to ride out on one of the many hunts or to compete in a tourney. Half the time, he hadn't even replied back. It couldn't compete with saving the life of the firstborn daughter to the Warden of the North. Clegane didn't answer you, only meeting your eyes. It was the longest you had kept his gaze.

The nose scrounged up, and Clegane looked back to the fire. "Got family somewhere? Could take you to them, be with your own."

"I've never been outside the city walls. My own was maids, washerwomen, and stablehands," you replied, and so many of them were gone. "As long as you promise me we never return to the Red Keep, you can take me wherever you please."

Clegane huffed air, and silence returned. The only thing you had managed was to make it even more awkward than before. Balling up, your cheek resting against your knees, you looked out over the water and listened to the crackle of the firewood. It was better to not speak too much with Clegane. Keep quiet. At least, until he got easier to read.

It was so warm... The wool fell over your shoulders as the Hound draped his cloak over you. "Yours got some time left 'til it's dry," he said.

"Thank you." Before the man had time to sit back down you spoke again. "Would you like to share... just until my cloak is dry?"

Clegane looked half ready to snarl, but he just nodded, seating himself beside you. Taking to your feet you draped the cloak over his shoulders instead, making him frown.

"Like on the back of Stranger," you said and knelt.

Clegane's jaw clenched as he moved his legs, making room for you. It was either this or sit beside him like a red beacon. Holding the edges of the cloak shut before you, like a tent, what little of Clegane's touch you felt was an accident. An arm brushed against an elbow. A heel going past the side of a foot. The man was just as stiff as he was in the saddle.

Slowly the heat began to build inside your makeshift tent. It wrapped around you. Not of smoke, horse, or sweat. Not of burnt flesh. Him. Just him.

Breathe. Breathe and keep calm. Maybe then your heart wouldn't feel ready to explode. It was just like riding on the back of Stranger, just like-

"I do owe you." The words were nothing more than a voice in the dark, grating and deep, sending a shiver down your spine and leaving your body tingling. "Think there are many that smile at me? Stand to look me in the eye? You did. You do."

"My smile is worth the protection of a kingsguard? The one who was sworn sword to the Crown Prince?" but each question strained your throat, your mouth dry like it had never known drink.

"None of that anymore."

"Yet you are the man that earned those titles," you answered.

"Think I earned those titles by being a good man?"

Words that should make you afraid instead made an ache grow in your chest. There was so much you didn't know, only rumors and all of them bloody. It wasn't true, he was wrong and you couldn't leave him with doubt. Suffering the embarrassment of having the man see what he did to you was far less than his pain. You shuffled, with less graze than you'd wished, until his face was before you.

The light of the campfire made Clegane look older than he was, casting parts in deep shadow. The burn that had claimed so much of his right side hidden behind his hair looked even more painful. Every crater deepened and every ridge heightened. At first, it had given you pause, to see a man that could suffer such a wound and yet walk. But it was the rest, what was in those dark eyes that told so much more. You could only imagine what he'd seen, the horror. No matter how much or how long you tried you would never understand.

"I do not mean to insult you but were you not a servant too? Your servitude was one of steel and mine of cloth, but you served the Lannisters. Did their bidding. If I do not wash the linens properly I would be beaten or flogged. Am I to believe your punishment would have been lighter had you refused one of their orders? We do not hold someone to an oath if said at the point of a sword. Not even the gods do so... So why should I hold you by actions, not of your own will, when a sword was ready to claim your head had you not," you said and the sides of your mouth tugged. "I may have only smiled, spoken to you in passing but... those that notice people like me usually do so because others don't... They can do as they please, and none would know. You didn't. You were kind."

A dry chuckle left his lips, "You think this kind? Never figured you to be dim."

"Noble?" you tried but it only made his lips press shut.

The ache in your chest grew. Just one touch. One tenderness. Your fingers brushed over his hand but it disappeared as quick as if caught in flame.

"Don't have to do that." His face twisting. "I'll find somewhere safe you can live, and you find yourself some man. You don't want an old dog."

"Your not that-" but when his brow cocked, you corrected yourself. "You're no Grandmaester Pycelle."

It was so easy to be greedy. To want more. Rising, the crisp air of the night greeted you while Clegane watched in silence. "Besides, dogs do not make such poor company."

It was like kissing one of the statues of the Red Keep. Your lips lightly brushed against his forehead and patted lightly atop his head with your hand before walking to the stand where your cloak awaited. Swaying, it felt as if you had drunk an entire wine cellar. Heart ready to burst as you laid yourself down. The Hound's stare burned your back as you wrapped the cloak tight.

The rattle of metal and boiled leather made you twist around. Clegane's tunic was already on him, fastening his brigandine.

"Going to check the surroundings," he muttered.

"Be safe, and careful so you don't trip in the dark."

But he was already disappearing behind the trees. "Stop fretting..." but the rest of his muttering was too low and far away for you to hear.

You tried to stay awake, wait for him, but it had been a long day of riding, and one just as long would follow... but if he tripped, if he fought something... You looked into the fire until your eyes stung like mad but even that couldn't keep your eyelids from growing heavy. Was it a dream? A roughness grazed your temple. Clegane? You wanted to open your eyes, but your body was too tired and the world too warm. All you managed was a smile.

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