#he's like YOU CAN MARRY YOUR SCIENCE OFFICER???
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Subtle. Very subtle.
#why did kirk react like that#come on man#he's like YOU CAN MARRY YOUR SCIENCE OFFICER???#WHO was in the editing room#spirk#tos spirk#k/s#star trek#star trek tos#spock#james t kirk
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pairing: Toshinori Yagi x F!Reader -> Mirio Togata x F!Reader
word count: 7.8k
contents: Canon divergence for final war arc and beyond, friends to lovers with history, reader has a defined quirk (magnetism) and is a support equipment safety consultant, reader is 29 and Mirio is 30, appearances from other heroes (Deku & Bakugou and they are married, in their 20's)
cw: major character death and discussions of aspects of caretaking for someone at the end of their life, discussions of loss and grief
notes: This idea could not have come to fruition without my most beloved @izvmimi and @bakvrue so thank you to them for always being the very best. I have really been having a Mirioaissance lately and as you all know I love Mr. Might so here goes. Hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading ♡ | crossposted to ao3
“I’m dying.”
Mirio Togata nearly chokes mid-swallow, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth to prevent droplets of tea from seeping out of his lips. It’s a rare Wednesday day off for Lemillion and sunlight pours into the expansive room used as an office at. He’s a guest in the home of one of the most prolific heroes of all time, as he often is, though today he was invited by the man himself instead of showing up to pop in and say hello.
All Might, Toshinori Yagi, is dying.
Technically he has been for years though hearing it from the man’s own mouth feels different than the vague conversations about ‘terminal’ and ‘incompatible organs’.
“No,” the younger man starts but Toshinori raises a hand to stop him, shaking his head with a chuckle.
It’s no secret he has been rapidly looking more and more frail as autumn faded into winter which is now melting into the bright green of spring.
“It’s true. No matter how many times you tell me ‘you can get better’ or ‘medical technology is improving’ it will not change the fact that my time has a finite number on it.”
There has been a finite amount of his life remaining for a very long time, he’s simply managed to dodge it for as long as possible. Running away from the truth is no longer an option, the years he has been given since the War and its finish already leaving the man feeling like a perpetual cheat. He was supposed to die then, and then after that, and then again and again and again…
There are no more ducks and dodges left in him.
“Midoriya knows and has accepted it. It’s time for you to do the same.”
The words would be harsh coming from anyone other than a beloved mentor turned friend though Yagi has always had the natural ability to soften blows when necessary. Mirio nods, blue eyes trained toward the ground and refusing to meet those of the man in the comfortable chair next to him. He dares to take a peek at the man who will forever be known as All Might, the thinness of his hands and arms and wrists alone a surprising sight. Time has run out. No medical science or quirk or act of God can reverse the inevitable. A transplant cannot save him, medicine will not save him, and he’s made the decision to be as comfortable as possible over the remaining weeks to months he has left.
Togata’s mind unconsciously drifts to you in all of this. You are the young woman who has devoted the latter half of her twenties to taking care of this iconic man, tending to his illnesses and the complications from them with a smile and a joke, a reassuring hand on his shoulder and a kiss on his forehead. The younger of the pair has witnessed this kindness himself on more than one occasion and he remembers when you were simply a Support course student at UA high school a year younger than Mirio himself. You assisted with equipment in the war and it has followed you through your adulthood, your support item safety consulting business thriving and helping build a safer world.
The way you care about everyone is so admirable, it’s difficult not to view you as a hero in all of this. Mirio raises a brow and balls his hands together into a fist, letting it rest in his lap.
“How does she feel about, well, everything?”
It’s a daring question to ask given the older man is well aware of the younger man’s affection toward you no matter how discreet he thinks he is about it. It’s the perpetual elephant in the room. Toshinori sighs, shifting in his chair and positioning his hands in his lap. Mirio’s eyes dart from them and toward the older man’s sallow face, noting the hint of a smile at the mention of you.
“She was the first person to know. It’s the least I could give her for wasting her youth on a sorry old man like me.”
Togata offers a tight smile and tilts his head to the side. The self deprecation isn’t anything new, it has been like this the last several years, though it never sits well when the man he has attempted to pattern his own morals over says something so blasphemous about himself.
“That’s a pretty downer way to look at things, All Might.”
This gets a chuckle from the older man, the sound of his head shaking against the back of his chair causing the younger one to look up at him curiously.
“It’s a pretty downer thing to die but telling you it’s coming isn’t the only reason I asked you here today.”
The older man clears his throat, wiping his thumb against his bottom lip and looking away, joining his hand in his lap. How can he properly phrase what he’s asking his young friend to do without it seeming sordid and disrespectful? He’s leaving you his legacy when he goes. His home, his royalties that will keep you well taken care of for the rest of your life and, well, he’s planning on leaving Mirio Togata the one gift he deserves the most - you.
He simply lays the plot down, hands still folded in his lap.
“How long have you loved her, kid?”
Mirio feigns shock that his mentor, the one who came after the one he lost years ago, is onto him. He has always played off his affection for you as friendliness and lingering glances as simply curiosity and assumed he has been doing it well enough that nobody notices.
“It’s not like that.”
Toshinori laughs, a weak cough wracking his body and he raises his fist to his grinning mouth to cover it. Mirio leans forward in his seat, reaching for the man who waves him off and instead leans to grab the bottle of hand sanitizer on the desk next to him.
“You are a grown man, Togata. Own up to it. It’s not going to offend me.”
There was no expectation of a trip down memory lane set for the younger man prior to arriving for this visit yet his mind launches into years of fuzzy and undefined memories. Evenings he’d come to visit you in the Support course workshop when he was younger with fewer scars covering his arms and torso, the few times in your early twenties you sat thigh to thigh with him in dimly lit izakaya hanging out with your mutual group of friends and their respective partners who are also heroes. He remembers too much and too little at the same time, skin crawling.
Shifting in his seat, he unclasps his hands and claps them against his thighs.
“A long, long time.” He finally responds and Toshinori chuckles in response, leaning back in his own chair and sliding one of his hands out toward Mirio. “Since I was in high school.”
The truth doesn’t hide forever. It makes him feel childish that he was so easily caught by the older man, replaying years of interactions in his head. Did he smile a little too wide at you? Glance a little too long? Pine a little too openly?
There is no way for him to change anything that has happened before now and the usually easy going man tensely lifts his head, meeting Toshinori’s soft gaze. There is no anger even if these events crossed boundaries, something the man is infinitely grateful for, and he reaches across the desk to take his mentor’s offered hand.
“I know.” He weakly squeezes the younger man’s hand, his lack of strength more evident than ever. Mirio feels emotion welling up inside of him and blinks it back, taking a deep breath. “That’s why I am asking you to give her the life I never could, Togata. Take her traveling when you can. Remind her that she’s brilliant and will probably keep this country safer than any hero ever could. Just…be there for her. For me.”
The request carries more weight than the older man could ever possibly understand. It’s not merely a responsibility but a strange kind of bequeathing. No formal paperwork, no meetings with officials, just two men discussing a woman they both care about deeply and how to best assuage her in the sorrows to come.
It also brings another question to Mirio’s mind he has contemplated for many years - do you have lingering feelings for him too? A far younger version of you, magnetism quirk engaged and using it to make him laugh, certainly did. He assumed those feelings just vaporized over time and with responsibility, your heart belonged to another man before he could ever ask that it be his.
A noble man. A good man who you did not want to see live lonely, by himself in his ailing years. A man Togata spent his entire life trying to emulate.
There’s a flutter of hope through the sorrow of knowing the end is coming for his friend and the younger man is the one to squeeze the older mans’ this time, gentle firm pressure to ensure it doesn’t hurt.
“I know it’s a big request. I don’t blame you if it makes you uncomfortable or if you’d like to say no,” Toshinori adds quickly. “I simply know that she cares about you a lot and always has.” His voice cracks and he swallows his sadness, only grateful that his life has been so glorious the last few years thanks to your gentle touch and your silly stories and your tendency to ad-lib songs to make him smile. “She deserves to be happy.”
The younger man couldn’t agree more. He nods, emotion continuing to rise, breaking eye contact to gaze down at his lap to allow him a moment to compose himself. For his entire twenties, he regretted losing his chance with you despite his gratefulness for the care and love you gave Toshinori. Now, entering his thirties, he gets the opportunity to try again. To speak up when he should and to put the feelings he has harbored for more than a decade to good use.
“I will do everything I can to make sure she is, you have my word.”
Even if it means you want nothing to do with him and keep yourself away from everyone forever. Whatever makes you happy, Mirio Togata will make sure you have it.
“I only have weeks. Months if I’m lucky but I don’t think I’m all that lucky anymore.”
The words make Mirio look up from his lap, brows furrowed. He didn’t think there was so little time left but he is a man of action and nods.
“Then let’s make these next few weeks memorable. What do you need me to do?”
A chuckle from the older man as he finally drops the younger one’s hand gently, tucking it back into his lap to join the other.
“For now, just be around if you can make it work.”
That he can do and he does for three more weeks.
On a warm spring day, a little past the end of cherry blossom season, the world loses All Might.
‘The days I spent with you were the happiest of my life. Let me take care of you for the rest of yours. - Toshinori’
The note he left you, the one you were handed by some man in a suit you’d never met before in the days following his death, rests on your desk. It feels too soon to tuck away the increasingly wrinkled piece of paper and you’re far too grateful for the life he has put between your two palms to stop glancing at the note every few hours each day.
It doesn’t answer any of the questions you have about what becomes of your life now though.
Emotion wells up in you again, a lump in your throat you have to swallow down to continue working, the results from your audit of the Dynamite agency’s safety audit on the screen of the tablet in front of you. They’re generally highly rated, Bakugou’s fastidious tendencies seeping through even the smallest detail of safety and care of his employees, but you have to look away. You close the screen cover and slide the device aside, standing up from your spot at the kitchen table to walk into the living room.
The house feels like a mausoleum even if it’s now yours and yours only. Being alone for the first time in weeks leaves a strange taste in your mouth and you fold your arms over your chest, padding across the wooden floors to plop down on the overstuffed couch you picked out three years ago. Deku’s wife spent a week by your side, the first seven days after the tremendous loss ensuring you ate and slept, sleeping in your bed with you and letting you cry on her shoulder. The day she went home hurt almost as badly as the day you lost the man himself, the encroaching loneliness feeling claustrophobic.
Thankfully, the second week was dotted with various visitors, your former classmates and long time friends of Toshinori paying their respects posthumously by being good to you in his departure. Dynamite’s wife tended to you and forced you out of your house, inviting you over with the promise of visiting with her eager to see you children.
The third week was much of the same, even chatting with his old friend David and accepting condolences from other heroes former and current. Your refrigerator stayed full, your mailbox overstuffed with more cards than you could open wishing you well and thanking you for taking care of him.
The fourth fewer people came but you still stayed busy. The fifth, same. The sixth, seventh, and eighth all followed suit although the amount of visitors thinned. Ninth, tenth, eleventh your house became empty outside of your close friends and Mirio. Now you are twelve weeks past his death and facing down a lifetime of uncertainty in a house that feels too large for you but too small for your pain.
Your heart swells recalling the love you’ve been given but it shrivels when you look around, wondering when it will start to feel full of life again; when you will.
Standing, you lumber over to the wall adjacent to where you sit, admiring the artwork and memories on the wall. There are photos of a freckle-faced teenager who became a freckle-faced man with his wife and children alongside Toshinori. Photos of Mirio grinning and giving a thumbs up in a vintage American All Might t-shirt that was almost too small for him. Photos of you and Toshinori smiling side by side when he was still well enough to attend the occasional event, you in glittering floor length sequins and him in a custom suit built to accommodate his ever weakening body.
Sighing, you reach out and brush your thumb along the frame. The photo doesn’t move, anchored into the wall, and you know that all of the care you gave him wasn’t wasted for a moment. He truly made your life better and you believe you did the same for him, though your eyes flit back to the photo of Mirio for a moment.
You took the picture a few years back while cleaning out the spare bedroom used solely for merchandise and collectables Toshinori had been given over the years. You accosted the younger blonde for pulling a shirt that was clearly too small for him over his head but snapped the photo anyway, grinning behind your phone at his silly posing.
Mirio.
He has been here for you almost as much as your closest friends, popping by daily if able with food or stories or just…sunshine, which is exactly what he is and always has been for the time you’ve known him. Even when the two of you were back in high school he knew your favorite candy and delivered it to your desk daily while spending his evenings sticking paper clips to your arm or the side of your face while your quirk was engaged.
Reaching into your pocket, you grab out your phone and dial his number. He answers before the first ring can even finish its trill.
“Hey-o, what are you doing?”
You giggle at his greeting though he hears the strain in your voice that indicates you are feeling down. He tucks his phone between his shoulder and ear, pulling his sweatpants on in the changing room of the agency, ready to head home.
“Nothing. I tried to work a little bit today and couldn’t focus. I’m sure Bakugou will bitch at me but his audit will simply have to wait another week.”
The man on the other end of the phone chuckles, rising to his full impressive stature and heading toward the exit.
“Do you need a distraction? I could come over.”
The offer is appreciated but you wrestle with how to respond to it. What you assumed were long forgotten feelings for Mirio surface every time you are around him and in your grief and confusion, you struggle to separate them from reality and what’s a balm to make you feel temporarily better. Would seeing him now, only three months removed from losing Toshinori, be appropriate? Is it what’s best?
“You don’t have to, I’m sure it was a long day.”
Togata scoffs, using his coded keycard to exit the building. The sun is still somewhat up, a hot summer evening encroaching and he does not want to go home when he could be spending time with you. The day exhausted him a bit, lots of petty crime picks up during the summertime, but he’s never too tired for you.
“Actually, this was the easiest shift I’ve had in a long time.” He’s lying and you can tell by the lilt in his voice, a particular tone he takes when he’s pretending everything is fine you’ve heard before but you are in no condition to press the issue. “I can pick you up in about thirty minutes and we can just drive if you want?”
You shake your head although he can’t see it. Part of you wants to say no, to rebuff your own feelings once and for all, but you’re weak and hurting and needy.
“We don’t have to go anywhere, we can just stay here if you want to come.”
And come he does, in that promised thirty minutes. He doesn’t bother to knock on the door anymore, punching in the code and announcing himself with a boisterous smile, then plopping down on the couch next to you.
It feels a lot more like coming home than it reasonably should but every time he feels guilty for envisioning his place in his life, next to you, he remembers the promise he made. He will make you happy no matter what that looks like.
Time passes so quickly when he’s around and it’s welcome to have something besides your own loneliness to listen to while he explains one of his heroic saves of the day, enthusiastically explaining phasing through a tree to capture a runaway attempted bank robber.
“So I caught the guy and somehow managed to save all the money too, which is crazy when you think about it. I thought the wind would carry half of it off but not today.”
You smile at him fondly, eyes crinkling at the corners, but he can tell something else is on your mind. Repositioning himself on the couch, he turns toward you and props his head up with his fist.
“Wanna talk about it?”
He has always been able to tell when something is bothering you and your brain screams that you should say no. You should turn down all of Mirio’s kindness and lock yourself inside of this home with your grief forever, a timeless pseudo-widow trapped in a prison of her own making.
But the warmth of his gaze encourages you so much, words bubble out of you before you can stop them, your hands instantly flying to your face to be pressed against your cheeks.
“Despite what people have said, I loved him.”
Mirio’s face falls into a concerned frown when he notices your eyes welling up, your glance firmly trained on his face. The papers were pretty harsh to you when the news of his death and your subsequent appointing the heir to his agency, legacy, and image were announced. Opportunistic seemed to be the media’s favorite term, honing in on the age and vitality difference between the two of you rather than the fact a fairly selfless young woman took care of him not knowing any of this was in her future.
You never took care of him in hopes of getting anything, only out of compassion for a man who has made the lives of others so much brighter. Who heals the healer? You took it upon yourself to be the one and you do not regret a moment of it, sitting cross legged at twenty-nine with a sense of pride despite it all.
“Maybe not in a conventional way. I never had,” your face falls a little, as though you’re fearful of reaction toward what you’re about to say. “You know…sex or anything with him. We kissed a few times, we held hands on occasion but my days and nights revolved around him for five years.”
Your voice breaks and immediately you push your thumbs against your eyes to keep yourself from crying where someone else can see it although the sniffling gives you away, sharp little inhalations through your nose.
“What do I do now?”
The question appears to be rhetorical though he feels compelled to answer, wrapping a reassuring arm around your shoulders and gently pulling you against his side. The lack of personal space between the two of you is honestly nothing new, certainly more so since Toshinori’s departure, and you settle into the warmth of him. It’s a comfort you need desperately, his fingers drumming a little beat of four into your shoulder.
“Whatever you want.”
You remove your thumbs from over your eyes, sensitive and red rimmed as they are, glancing at the man next to you carefully. The brightness of your living room causes you to squint and he reaches his free hand to wipe tears from your bottom lashes, his crooked index finger pressing delicately against your skin.
“I know that sounds callous and it probably is the wrong thing to say but your life isn’t over just because he isn’t here to watch you live it.” Now it’s Mirio’s voice that cracks and he clears his throat, hand flexing against where it rests on your upper arm. “He left you the tools to live however you want. You have a successful business, you are young and beautiful and…”
He trails off and you blink at him silently. The true feelings he has tried so desperately to hide for the years he has known you are seeping out of him. How much longer can he possibly hold it in before the pressure starts to cause cracks? Before it spills out of him wildly, an ode to you from a boy who has loved you since seventeen?
You stop him from spiraling, opening your mouth to speak while tears escape over his finger and roll down your face.
“I think I’m scared, Mirio.”
This is the first time you’ve admitted it, even to yourself. An undefined future is a terrifying prospect and while Toshinori was here, you were guaranteed to always have him. Scheduled pills and injections, showers and quality of life activities. Even your work is unstructured outside of your scheduled annual audits, only being called upon when you are needed.
He holds you against him, leaning down to press his lips against your forehead. This could be just what you need and although he worries about pushing boundaries, you prove his worries wrong by snuggling further into his side. Your tears drip onto the cotton of his t-shirt and he uses his second hand to begin wiping them away, shushing you gently and affectionately.
“It’s okay to be afraid, he wouldn’t judge you for that, but don’t let it make you waste the opportunity to live exactly how you want.” His words are comforting and you nod against his chest, sniffling. “There is no right or wrong way to handle this.”
This is the first time anyone has told you that it’s okay to not know what to do right now. Not that you’ve ever asked, too fearful of making missteps to try and prevent them at all. You need reassurance and although you’ve been given it, it’s hard not to seek it from a man you’ve found so much comfort in over the past few months. He has been vulnerable with you, it seems only right to do the same for him in return.
Sighing, you unbury your face from his chest. “Do you think I’m doing okay?”
There is a version of you, more than a decade younger than you are now, that lives in Mirio’s mind and he sees her in the way you look up at him with uncertain eyes. It strikes him how long the two of you have known each other; how long he has been dancing around his feelings for you. He nods, removing his arm from your shoulder to cup your cheeks in his palms.
The urge to kiss away those tears is strong but he talks himself down, tilting your head until your gazes fully meet. All of the love he has kept to himself for a decade further threatens to spill out. He stops himself, self restraint a requirement of being a hero after all, and his thumbs gently stroke the rose petal soft skin beneath them.
“You’re doing better with all of this than anyone else ever could.”
There are no words he has ever meant more than these besides the ones he decides to keep to himself, saving the oft considered ‘I love you’ for another day.
“Thank you. For everything. I kind of worry I’m asking too much from you,” you rush to apologize and he keeps his grip on your face gentle but firm.
“You can ask me for anything you need.”
He means it more than he meant his promise to the last man that loved you.
“Alright, I think we’ve had as much fun as we are going to have. Babysitters get paid hourly, you know.”
Katsuki wraps his arm around his wife’s shoulders, pulling her close to him beneath the same lights the six of you used to drink under a long time ago while saying his goodbye. He has never been much of a drinker and hasn’t indulged even a bit tonight but his wife’s relaxed expression gives away how many beers she’s had and you giggle at her, squeezing her hand as she walks by on their way out.
“Be careful you two,” you call after them, Mirio turning to look at you while you glance over your shoulder. Only Midoriya and his wife remain seated across from you two, snuggled in the corner of their side of the booth. Deku’s ever lovely better half raises a brow and nudges her husband in the ribs gently, subtly motioning toward where the pair of you sit.
This is the first night you’ve really enjoyed yourself in the six months since you’ve lost Toshinori. It has been a great walk down a memory lane you haven’t bothered to explore in a long time.
“Gosh, he’s so grumpy,” you laugh to yourself and Mirio giggles beside you, looking as smitten as he always does. Izuku notices it and looks down at his wife, the two of them communicating wordlessly by the time you glance at them. “I’m guessing you two are next to head home?” You tease, your own brain slightly hazy from the few beers you’ve allowed yourself to indulge in.
A little voice in the back of your head made you fear showing your face in public, especially after the scrutiny that came so few months ago, but nobody has taken a second glance at your group of friends despite all of the men in the group landing in the top five of the Hero standings. It appears whatever backlash was sparked has faded quickly. You make a note to thank the classmates you had that now work in the media who were likely behind it, hoping you remember it later.
You haven’t just had a good time tonight, you’ve had a great one. Smiling gratefully, you look over at your two remaining friends.
“Like Kacchan said, babysitters are paid hourly,” Deku raises his brows and shrugs. His wife kisses his cheek, beginning to slide out of the booth while he holds onto her hand and follows.
Mirio nods at Izuku and smiles at his wife, having known the two of them since high school as well, the same story with the now gone Bakugou’s.
“Get that beautiful wife of yours home safe, Deku.” He jokes with a chuckle and his friend laughs in response, reaching across the table to pat his shoulder and then yours.
It’s hard for him to believe how much has changed over these years but how much has remained the same simultaneously. His close friends married their high school sweethearts and settled into their family life, kids and recitals and dinner parties. A piece of him has wondered for years if that could have been the two of you as well if he’d left less up to chance as a young man.
Does it do any good to wonder? Mirio doesn’t know yet he does often, tonight especially.
“You ready to go?”
A little lost in your own world, you look up at him with your eyebrows raised and nod slowly. He looks so handsome, even in this poorly lit room, and heat rises in your face straight to the tips of your ears. It has been a long time since you’ve felt that particular heat, the kind that makes your stomach flip flop.
Would it be wrong of you to ask him if he wants to hang out with you for a little while longer? You don’t have ill intentions in wanting to spend time with him, at least that’s what you tell yourself, and the few beers have made you feel brave.
“Do you wanna hang out with me for a little while? We can just go back to the house or find somewhere else or…” you trail off slightly, a little self conscious. Do you seem desperate? Lonely? Annoying? “If you don’t want to though, I understand.”
Finishing your question hurriedly, you glance up at Mirio who looks at you with that same earnest stare he has given you for years. There are depths in those pretty blue eyes, humor and pain that he has experienced and joy and so much. There is simply so much more to this man than most people know and unexpectedly, it isn’t just your face that feels too hot, it’s the entire room.
“Of course I do. Let me just take you home and we can hang out there, that way I’m not keeping a lady out too late.”
He knows he’s taking a risk by being outright flirtatious with you after months of trying to keep it subtle. He is but a man and knows that look, though. That ‘through the lashes, lips slightly parted, beautiful woman who wants to spend time with you’ look. He’d be a fool to say no, even if you two do nothing but talk for hours. There’s nothing else he’d rather do with the remnants of his night anyway.
“After you,” he offers with a bright grin. The few beers he has had make his cheeks pink and you want to reach out and touch them but refrain, uncertain of how to do all of this correctly. You’ve never really dated, outside of a few hookups in your early twenties, so this is truly foreign territory. It’s a lot to wrestle with the guilt of moving on, something you have reluctantly admitted to yourself it seems you’re doing, and the weight of grief on your shoulders at all times.
When does it ever get better or at the very least, when does it become less of a struggle?
Saving those questions for another, less fun evening you slide out of the booth and he follows after, placing his hand against your back to walk you out of the bar. It feels natural, his fingers splayed across your spine and heat once again blooms. It’s embarrassing to feel so excited by sheer touch.
Your relationship with Toshinori was never sexual. Always a companion more so than a lover despite the deep love that bloomed between the two of you, you spent a lot of nights in a different bed exploring your own body while he slept in his own room down the hall. This was always the arrangement, comfortable for both of you. He was physically incapable of having sex and you never wanted to make him feel like less because of it, still complimenting his appearance and doing your best to make him feel attractive. Which he was, even until the end that smile and those jovial blue eyes had the ability to light up a room.
It’s just different with Mirio. This isn’t the first time that heat has bloomed beneath your belly button, begging you to follow it all the way down a rabbit hole you aren’t quite sure you are ready for and the alcohol is making it worse tonight. If he can tell, he’s being a gentleman about it, something to be grateful about.
The two of you stand in the now cool autumn night air, the city still noisy outside. The breeze chills your warm cheeks and you look up at him to find him glancing down at you, wearing an expression that tells him some of the same things on your mind are on his.
“What are you thinking about?”
The question is laced with humor, as most of what the man says tends to be, and you feel caught with your pants down. Playing it off with a giggle, you decide to push back; to make him feel like he’s the one being surveyed instead.
“Why didn’t you kiss me when we were in high school?”
The topic of first kisses came up tonight, your friends reminiscing about how they’ve shared their first everything together throughout the years, and you recall yours being lackluster. Some guy you went to college with named Dai who slobbered all over your face your first year.
Certainly not who you would’ve preferred sharing a kiss with.
Your question has caught Mirio off guard and he rubs his neck, scrunching his nose and refusing to make eye contact with you. The truth is that he was simply too afraid to make a move and by the time he was able to, it felt improper given the conflict and all that happened.
It was hardly a time for making a move on the girl you had a crush on and the two of you just went your separate ways after that. He became a Pro Hero, working his way up into the top 15 within his first year and then the top 10 the next and only climbing from there, you went to college to pursue your public safety certification. By the time you were able to reconnect in your early twenties, your lives had diverged so wildly it no longer felt appropriate to, well, go after you.
“I don’t know,” he finally says. “I think I was afraid you didn’t like me back.”
Snorting, you attempt to stifle your laughter. He glances down at you, tilting his head, feigning offense.
“Really? I’m being honest with you and you’re going to laugh at me?”
Wrapping your arm around his bicep, you attempt damage control by resting your head against him. A breathy sigh leaves you and you glance upward to catch him staring down at you once again.
“I had such a crush on you that even Hatsume gave me shit about it.” You speak through your nose, attempting the now most sought after equipment outfitter in all of Japan's higher voice and inflection. “Where’s your little boyfriend, magnet girl?”
The two of you devolve into a fit of childish giggles, not unlike the ones you shared back then, and without warning he leans in close to you. You still cling to his bicep but he’s bent at the waist, lips inches from yours, one of his hands reaching to rest against the side of your neck.
“Can I make up for it now?”
Ocean eyes search yours, pleading for an answer. All of that heat courses through your body at once and without putting too much thought into any real consequence, you nod. Just a kiss won’t hurt either of you, for old time’s sake regardless of what may or may not be blooming here. Mirio closes the distance between the two of you and gently brushes his lips against yours, gentlemanly and chivalrous even in the throes his tremendous need to touch and feel and be close to you, and you whimper when he pulls away sooner than you liked.
“Was that okay?”
Giggling, you lean in and kiss him again to give him his reply. It was more than okay, it was everything you’ve ever dreamed of. His lips are soft, a sharp comparison to the well kept and bulky rest of him that you have had to stop yourself from eyeing hungrily on more than one occasion. His mouth tastes like salt and beer and love.
Pure love lives on his tongue that is working its way into your mouth while he hurriedly backs you two into a narrow alleyway between the bar you just left and the building next to it. His knee rests between your barely parted legs and your hands reach for anything they can grab, forearms and biceps and his shoulders and chest. You touch recklessly, one hand sliding up the side of his neck to cup his jaw and the other rubbing circles just beneath the hem of his shirt, above his belt buckle.
“Hey,” he stops you unexpectedly to catch his breath, chest heaving while he glances down at you. “I want to keep this going but I have to tell you first that I love you.”
There it is. The thing he has been keeping to himself for twelve long, torturous years. Mirio loves you so fiercely he wonders how he’s managed to even breathe the last 12 years without you by his side, your laughter and light filling his days and nights no matter how they go.
How could he ever live without you again? He isn’t sure that he could.
Blinking up at him, you slide your hand further up his face and tousle his blonde hair between your fingers.
“I don’t care if it’s too soon for you to say it back or if you ever will but I love you. I have for such a long time it hurts to keep it to myself any longer.”
The smile on your face turns into a full blown grin, fingers still snaked in his hair. Maybe it’s too soon, maybe lust is winning the battle between your wits and your heart or maybe this is a chance to say something you’ve felt for longer than you realized.
“I love you too, Mirio.”
It doesn’t make your love for Toshinori any less real to admit you love the man who has been by your side for virtually 24 hours a day for the last six months and long before that too.
He leans back in and kisses you again, silencing any thoughts other than the two of you and it leaves you breathless, gently grinding against his jean clad thigh and sucking on his tongue. Another pause and he pulls away, cupping your face.
“Take me home with you.”
It isn’t a plea of desperation but one of pure unadulterated need. He needs you, any way you’ll let him have you, tonight.
Nodding, you close the distance and press your lips against his.
“Let’s go.”
In all the time that has passed since you lost Toshinori, your home feels a little brighter when you arise in it each day.
It feels like somewhere you can build your own life now instead of living trapped inside the memory of his. You were concerned that changing anything about this place would rob you of the comfort of having once loved the man who left it to your care but you know he wouldn’t want you to stand in one place for long. All those months ago, Mirio was right when he told you that Toshinori would want you to make the best of what you’ve been given.
Move forward, he’d assure you if he were still here. Be yourself and find happiness.
Despite all the ways you’re still healing, you have.
You think about him every day. You will forever, regardless of the nature of your relationship and how other people view it. Some days the memory of him cuts through you like a knife, especially the last year of your life with him spent doing a lot more caretaking than you’d done the prior four, and other days it’s a gentle breeze. A whisper and reminder that he’s watching you, he loves you, he’s proud of you.
You’ve done the All Might legacy well, donating a large chunk of his fortune back to the communities he so committedly served. Scholarships for students who want to go to hero academies but may not have the pedigree or wealth to let them in, rebuilding the last remnants of an over decade old war that still scar areas of Musutafu tourists don’t visit.
The dreams you have yet to fulfill with what you’ve been provided make your future seem more full than ever. Hospitals bearing his name, education about the balance of hero life and personal life, safety equipment becoming better than ever. Your ambitions are big and you will make them all come true, a vow you made to him on the day he died even if he wasn’t cognizant enough to understand what you were saying.
This is all for him, dearly departed, a man you cared so deeply about you would’ve taken care of him for ten more years if you had to. You’re grateful it didn’t come to that if only for his sake, the suffering his ailing body was facing more than you like to think about even today, but all things considered it was a good life.
Even the papers have commended the woman they once referred to as an amoral opportunist.
Maybe you aren’t so bad after all.
And today when your feet hit the ground, the sun rises and fills the room with light through the gauzy curtains you put up a few months back. The cat you recently adopted twines himself around your legs and looks up at you expectantly, breakfast already a few minutes late. You couldn’t go long without having something new to take care of, the cat was once a beat up little thing brought to you by Lemillion himself one evening after a shift that has grown into a demanding beast.
“Saving little lost cats is a bit cliche, isn’t it?” You joked when he unzipped his hooded sweatshirt and produced the fuzzy, green eyed lump that mewed at you the moment he saw you. Mirio grinned and half shrugged. “Yeah but I’m good at it, right?”
Good he is, you think looking over at his still sleeping form in your bed.
For some, it may be too soon to cautiously lend your heart to another man. You love Toshinori and always will, the impact he left on your life is profound in ways you’ll discover for years to come, but a part of you has always loved Mirio even if circumstances prevented the pair of you from being together. He was once a silly teenager who was too afraid to ask you to be his girlfriend when he graduated high school, satisfied to leave things up to fate, and now he is a grown man who has been by your side through the most painful loss of your life so far, holding you together on the days when you were worried you would crumble.
Both of you are grateful that fate decided well although she took her time and brought a lot of pain on her way.
Instead of getting out of bed, you lean down and pick up your now purring cat and slide back into bed beside him, his hands instinctively reaching behind him for your thighs to pull you closer.
“I didn’t think you were awake,” you whisper and he chuckles, scarred hand running up the expanse of your thigh while your cat climbs onto his shoulder and licks his face. There’s no use in trying to carefully swat the creature away so he lets him settle onto the pillow above his head.
“I always notice when you get up and I have to fight the urge to follow you.”
Giggling, you wrap yourself around his back and rest your cheek between his bare shoulder blades.
“Why’s that?”
He finally turns to face you, blue eyes glancing down at the thing he has wanted for years. Your unmade, half awake face. The domesticity of your cat purring above both of your heads. The promise of packing to take a week off from heroics to go and enjoy a far off destination neither of you have been together.
“In case I ever lose you again,” he admits vulnerably and you smile up at him, hand reaching to cup his cheek.
The half awake mumblings have more truth to them then you could possibly imagine, fear that something else will hurt you or pull you away from him. Fear that he’s going to waste his time again, precious days he has always wanted to spend with you meaning nothing because he’s too cowardly to fight for what he wants. Maybe a younger version of Mirio Togata would have let this happen but not this one, older and wiser that he is.
The ring he plans on proposing to you with this week is nestled in his suitcase, buried beneath too many pairs of socks and probably too few pairs of boxers. He won’t even mind a long engagement, if you need one, as long as he knows forever with you is what waits on the other side.
“You don’t have to worry about that. I think we’re stuck together for life after all we’ve been through.”
As he promised his mentor a few months over a year ago, he will ensure that you are.
#all might x reader#toshinori yagi x reader#mirio togata x reader#lemillion x reader#kendall writes#cw death
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We're gonna have a fucking baby
Kendall Roy x f!reader (Smut) 3.2k word count
Summary: After spending the day with Kendall and his two kids, Kendall admits he frequently fantasizes about having another baby with you. This conversation quickly leads to an intimate night of him trying to make that happen.
“I mean, is this all my life is y/n? Forty years of fucking up”.
“Ken, your life is forty years of being an amazing older brother, a hardworking son, and a great dad! Maybe with a few hiccups along the way but…who's counting?” you exclaimed as you placed a fresh cup of coffee in front of your emotionless boyfriend. His large eyes staring back at his reflection in the black liquid.
“The press is counting, my family is fucking counting. And you don’t have to lie y/n, I know I am neglectful in all those relationships. Especially with my kids” he roughly remarked.
For weeks you had been pushing the idea of Kendall spending more time with his kids. Whenever he had a day off you would throw out suggestions like, “Hey Ken, the weathers great! Maybe we should bring Sophia and Iverson to Central Park.” Or “NYC has so many museums, we should take Sophia to the ballet, and Iverson to the Hall of Science”. Never intending to make Kendall feel like a deadbeat dad. You knew how he admired his kids. Occasionally he just needed a little push to be there for them.
Due to Kendall’s lackluster attitude you figured today wasn’t the day to ask kendall if he wanted to make plans with his kids. Maybe it was the warm Saturday morning air flooding the usually chilling apartment, or the fact that Kendall was finally not in the office on a weekend but you just had to throw out the idea one more time. “Ken, I know you're having a rough day” you said softly as you reached out to squeeze his open hand. “But maybe not being cooped up in the office or your apartment will make you feel better-”
“Look, I know where you're going with this y/n and I’m not going to another one of your fucking pilates classes.” Kendall directly cutting off your sentence before you could finish. You couldn’t help but laugh at your boyfriend's consistent apathy.
“Damn, but I just love seeing you so worked up and sweaty” you retort. “No Ken, I was going to say, why don't we take Sophia and Iverson to the zoo today?” you cheerfully presented. To your surprise Kendalls eyes nearly seemed to light up at the word “zoo” as if something clicked inside of him, almost breaking his depressive state. Kendall responded with a quick “let me call Rava”.
You watched the rows of skyscrapers pass as you and Kendall sat in suffocating silence on the way to Rava’s apartment. Kendall fidgeted in his seat, pulling on his t-shirt, mindlessly switching between apps on his phone before eventually letting out a quiet “you know, you don't have to come if you don't want to y/n, I can pick them up by myself if it makes you more comfortable.” You placed your hand gently on his upper thigh giving a light squeeze as you explained. “Ken, it's really okay. I mean she's the mother of your children! We can't exactly avoid each other forever.” you said, showing a soft smile to assure Kendall of your confidence. Honestly, you and Rava got along fine. Although she was slow to warm up to you, you never took it personally. Who wouldn't be cautious of their drug addict, ex husbands, new girlfriend. Over time her cold demeanor shifted as you two began having small conversations whenever she would pick the kids up. You almost admired Rava in a way. She was beautiful, always looked elegantly put together, successful in her career, and she was an amazing mother. Everything you secretly hoped to one day be for Kendall.
As the car pulled up to Rava’s apartment you mind began to picture how your future might look with Kendall if things continued at the pace they were. Of course, Kendall had joked many times about getting you pregnant and running away together to get married. But you two never had a real discussion about what you saw for your future. You couldn't help but occasionally daydream of you and Kendall standing in an empty room deciding between sage green or soft peach, paint swatches for a nursery. Or rocking your baby to sleep as Kendall softly wrapped his arms around your waist, humming gently in your ear.
Your mind wandered further into your maternal daydream as your day at the zoo went on. Observing how patient and gentle Kendall was Iverson and how lovingly he doted on Sophia, had your heart skipping beats every minute. Making sure to capture hundreds of photos of all the adorable moments. Kendall typically only showed his love in undisclosed ways but with his children it was on full display.
As you and Iverson stared into a tank of swimming otters counting each one that passed, Kendall realized for the first time in weeks he didn’t feel like the world was collapsing in on him. There was something reassuring about watching you point out different frog species with Iverson and hold hands with Sophia, skipping together to each animal. Everytime he heard one of his kids yell “Dad, come look!” served as a reminder that he still had people in his life who cared about him. Who needed him.
Kendalls wandering thoughts were interrupted by a small tug on his sleeve and he looked down to find his daughter sweetly beaming up at him.
“What's up Princess? Are you having a good time?”
“Dad! y/n is so cool and you’re always happier when you're with her!” The young girl exclaimed.
Kendalls entire demeanor softened, and he kneeled down to wrap his arms around Sophia. Hearing those words nearly broke his heart. He was highly aware he wasn’t always at his best when around his kids, but he always tried to fake it for Sophia and Iverson. The fact that his kids could see past the facade made him sick. Just another reminder of the ways he was becoming like his father.
Kendall attempted to hide his shame from Sophia, responding smoothly “Yeah Soph, I guess you’re right about that. Lucky for us, I think y/n is here to stay.” In spite of her fathers hopefully tone, Sophia was hardly a young kid anymore and she could still see the fragment of sadness Kendall felt. She pleaded further “Please dad! y/n is the best! I want her around forever!”. After his divorce Kendall decided remarrying was out of the question for him. The thought of being like his dad; multiple wives with kids he ignored from each, practically gave him nightmares. However, Kendall couldn’t deny that when he met you, his mindset instantly changed. Within only a few months the thought of you having his child definitely crossed his mind more than once. He would catch himself picturing moments like you handing him a pregnancy test with a bright ‘+’ result. Staring up at him with your soft eyes anticipating his reaction. How he would scoop you up in his arms and yell “we're having a baby!” kissing you all over and reminding you how he would take care of you forever. Nonetheless, he always pushed those thoughts aside and never revealed how he really dreamed of you two ending up. The press already had a field day with your age gap, you were really starting to build momentum in your career and the last thing he ever wanted to do was make you feel trapped.
That night you and Kendall sat snuggling on the couch, scrolling through all of the silly photos taken throughout the day. You felt especially safe wrapped in Kendall's arms tonight. Assuming it was just the effects of getting to see Kendalls paternal instincts. He left gentle pecks along your forehead while giggling at every photo of Iverson and Sophia posing with the animals. The effortless time with his kids paired now with your warm body cuddled on top of him reliving the memories was already filling him with a mellow nostalgia.
As you scrolled past a selfie of you kissing Kendall on the cheek you giggled “we would make such cute babies.” Instantly Kendalls ears perked up seeing as he was the one usually joking about making babies.
“Are you kidding? Our kids would be like the next super model, techno DJ, fucking ultra geniuses!”
You expected Kendall to have to have such a teasing reaction but honestly you were being serious.
“Fuck yeah they would!” you joked back, pressing a peck to your boyfriend's lips. Kendall quickly deepened the kiss before pulling back to look at you.
“Did I ever tell you how sexy I think you would look pregnant?” Kendall whispered. “What? Omg Kendall no! You have never told me that” you laughed.
“Come on. What do you think… I think about after I cum in you?” he said with a large grin.
“Ken I- are you serious? Do you really think about you?”
Despite the giggle you let out as you asked, you knew Kendall caught on to the trace of hopefulness behind your question.
“Uh of course, I think about how fucking beautiful my girlfriend would be with my child, yeah.” Kendall assured.
Your heart was nearly pounding out of your chest. Despite being unsure if Kendall was being honest or simply pulling your heartstrings hearing him say those words was making you melt deeper into his arms.
“Mm really? How often?” you teased, hoping to gather more confirmation that Kendall wasn’t just joking.
“Um okay, you want me to be honest?” he asked.
“One hundred percent.” you said.
“Like. Everyday.”
Stunned by his answer, your mouth fell open and stumbled to come up with a response.
“Seeing you with Sophia and Iverson, waking up to you every morning, fuck y/n, you have no idea how bad I want to come home to you and our family.” Kendall continued.
“Our family?” you questioned.
You could sense Kendalls discomfort with your reaction. You hadn’t intended to say that thought aloud but you were speechless. It felt as if the delusional world in your head and reality were swapping places.
Kendalls large eyes were staring into your eyes, anxiety flooding his body, praying you say something else.
“Ken I-” you began, before being interrupted by a distressing Kendall.
“Look y/n its just a thought, I mean I’m definitely not trying to push for something you’re not ready for, like I know your young and-”
Crashing your lips into Kendalls was the only way you knew to shut him up from his fearful rambling.
“But…I want you, Kendall.” you said.
Your hands holding his face to look directly into his dark eyes. “I want all of you. All of your bad habits. All of your ex-wife, Roy family drama baggage. And especially…to have your babies.” you drew out slowly, letting a devilish smile creep onto your face.
That was all the reassurance Kendall needed before he was kissing you deeply , moving to positioning himself in between your thighs, hovering above you.
“Is that really what you want y/n? You want me to make you mine?” His previously trembling voice was now confident and nearly patronizing.
“Mhm baby, only yours” you replied sweetly while attempting to grind your hips up to Kendalls. That slight bit of friction was met with a repressed grunt from Kendall, his hands moving to tightly grip your hips, halting any movement. You could tell Kendall was already craving you. You could feel his dick growing harder as it pressed firmly against your clothed center. The truth was Kendall was hard since the conversation had begun. Even when you had simply joked earlier about making cute babies Kendall couldn’t help the blood that instantly rushed to his cock, causing it to throb against his sweats.
Kendall moved slowly to remove the soft sweater you were wearing, gently helping you to pull out each arm before lifting it over your head. His lips softly connected to your neck. Leaving light pecks, stopping occasionally to gently suck on the skin and admire the small blemishes he was leaving behind. His large hands softly massaging your breasts before his tongue swiftly moved to draw light circles around your nipples. Taking the small bud between his lips and sucking tenderly, making sure to give each nipple equal attention. Your body pushed your chest forward desperately giving in to his delicate touch. His ability to instantly turn you into a moaning mess never failed.
You squirmed beneath him searching for something to grind against, desperate to stimulate the area he was ignoring.
“This is what you’ve been waiting for isn’t it? For me to fuck you and make you mine? Already so eager for my fucking cum in you. My pretty girl” Kendall taunted softy. Watching you gasp as your back arched into him.
“Please Ken” you pleaded.
His fingers trace slowly down your body, finally making contact with your touch deprived center. Using two fingers to rub soft circles on your clit and slide them through your slick folds pressing firmly against your slit. His fingers were instantly covered in your wetness before he even dipped them into your pussy.
Kendall stared into your eyes as he brought the first finger he used to spread your pussy to his lips. Sliding the digit slowly into his mouth, “Fuck! You taste so good”. Bringing his second finger to your mouth with a commanding “suck”. You gladly accepted and softly sucked on the flesh tasting yourself before Kendall removed the finger with a loud popping sound.
He quickly moved from between your thighs to kneeling at the edge of the bed, wrapping his arms firmly around your thighs and pulling your dripping pussy level to his mouth. You cried out as his lips connected directly to your exposed clit. Kendall hummed into your pussy as he tongued the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hands grasped desperately searching for something to hold onto as you felt your orgasm building in your stomach. Kendall removed his firm grasp from around your hips and found your hands, interlocking his fingers with yours. “Fuck Ken! You’re gonna- make me cum! Please- please don't stop!” You cried out, squeezing his hands harder feeling your eyes close shut. On nights when Kendall was feeling especially dominating, now is when he would completely pull away. Always trying to see how many times he could bring you to the edge before he finally gave you permission to cum. However, tonight was different. Kendall was on a mission to prove just how good he could make you feel, how bad he wanted to give you everything, that he would truly take care of you. His cock was leaking with precum appreciating every sound that left your body as he continued working your pussy. Rapidly licking at your slit and sucking on your clit until finally the knot building in your stomach released. You couldn't stop the dramatic stream of moans that left your body.
“Oh my God Ken!”
“Good girl” Kendall hummed as you attempted to catch your breath feeling your sensitive pussy throbbing inside.
You yelped, as you felt Kendalls mouth return to your overstimulated clit leaving light kisses while he worked to remove his sweatpants and boxers.
Kendall gently lifted you in both arms and softly laid you back down in the center of the bed. Taking his time to kiss you deeply as he wrapped his arms tightly around you. His chest heaving against yours as he lowered his waist. His dick finally making contact where you had been craving it most, smoothly grinding his tip in between your folds.
He buried his head in the crook of your neck, his dark voice whispering lowly into your ear “You’re my fucking girl.”
“I’m all yours Ken.”
“And this.” Kendall moved his hands to lightly slap his dripping head against your clit, “is my fucking pussy.” His aggressive words muttered with affection and tenderness.
“It’s your pussy Kendall. Forever”
Gradually Kendall began pushing his tip into your soaking entrance, taking his time to guide his cock deeper. Halting his movements frequently to feel you stretch around him.
“Fuck! I love you.” He grunted when his cock finally bottomed out. Dropping all his weight onto your hips, rocking deeply into you. His body was pressed so tightly against yours making you feel especially small and protected. His pelvic bone brushing against your clit with every thrust as he smoothly gained aggression.
Breathy mumbles of “I love you too Kendall, I love you so much” left your lips. His powerful thrust sending electricity straight from your brain to your pussy and through every inch of your body. The sound of your wet pussy dripping around Kendalls cock, his warm breath brushing your neck as he moaned deeply instinctively made you wrap your legs tightly around his hips. Although Kendall had intended to be soft with you tonight he couldn't stop himself from pounding into you ruthlessly. He could feel your pussy tightening around his cock with each thrust signaling you were close to cumming once again.
“Fuck baby! Why are you so fucking wet for me huh? Does it turn you on knowing I’m gonna cum in that fucking pussy? My pretty girl, gonna have my baby?”
He wasn’t expecting a real answer, only seeking to push you closer to cumming on his cock. He was using everything in him not to cum before you and you could feel his smooth pace become more erratic as he snapped his hips harshly against yours.
Letting go of his tight grasp around your body to balance with his forearms on either side of your head. Holding your face with his hands, pressing his forehead lightly atop yours.
“You want my fucking cum?” He questioned, doing his best to maintain a firm tone as he held back his orgasm.
“Yes Ken! I want your cum, baby! Please!” you cried out.
“Tell me where you want it. Tell me where you want me to cum baby”. He was fucking into you at a brutual pace watching as tears began forming in the corners of your eyes.
“Fuck! In my pussy Ken, please cum inside me!” you pleaded as his words drew you to your second orgasm. That was all Kendall needed to hear before he was releasing deep inside you with a powerful thrust. It felt as if you could feel his cum hitting your cervix as he maintained his rough pace, fucking his cum deeper into you. Kendall could feel his orgasm rushing through his entire body, his cock throbbing inside of you, twitching, as he felt your nails drag down his back and your pussy squeezing around him. Milking every ounce of pleasure.
Kendall slowly pulled out you with a deep sigh. The loss of contact, already causing you to feel empty. You were yearning for him to reach out his arms again and pull you into a deep hug. Kendall traced his fingers lightly over your stomach, remaining silent as he studied every inch of your body before dropping to lay down on his back next to you. “Is he already regretting this?” You thought to yourself as Kendall laid silently staring up at the ceiling. You could feel you heart slowly sinking, letting out a soft sigh as you sat up and began shuffling off the bed. Your movements, quickly interrupted by Kendall reaching to pull your body into his lap. Straddling him, his toned arms pulled you into him tightly. Your chests rose and fell in sync as you both breathe in deeply. You feel Kendalls chests begin to vibrate beneath you and he lets out a loud chuckle, brightly exclaiming “We’re gonna have a fucking baby!”
#kendall roy#kendall roy x reader#kendall roy oneshot#succession smut#succession season 4#kendall succession#succession headcanons#kendall roy x you#kendall roy fluff#kendall roy imagine#kendall roy smut
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Maxiel Political AU
Word Count: 1026
Summary: Max Verstappen only had one goal - to be President. It's all he's wanted since he was just seven years old and all that he's worked towards. But bachelors don't get elected as Presidents, for the most part. Enter Daniel Ricciardo. Daniel's the ideal candidate for the country's most prominent and stressful unpaid job: the President's loving partner, a pretty bauble for the country to fall in love with and look towards. In secret meetings, contracts are signed and a marriage is arranged. Max and Daniel must convince the American people that they are a loving couple and perfect for the White House.
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Chapter One
When you’re about seven years old, the American schooling system likes to ask one question. One question that’s asked to every kid in the country regardless of where they live.
What do you want to be when you grow up?
There are the sensible answers, of course. Then there are the impractical ones. And finally the impossible answers.
Daniel Ricciardo at the young age of seven had answered by saying that he wanted to be just like his daddy. With a powerful name and an even more powerful family to back him, no one had thought his answer to be impractical or impossible. Daniel Ricciardo had the money and privilege to be anything he wanted, and most importantly he had a family that’d move heaven and earth for him.
Across the country and a few years later, Max Verstappen had answered that he wanted to be President and it was far from the sensible answer. Little boys from poor families and no political connections don’t make it to the White House, he’d been told. Those hadn’t been the exact words, but as Max got older he understood that was the gist of what his teacher had said back then.
When they ask you that question at seven, it’s not very serious. It’s just a question that you can change the answer to a hundred times if you want to. But just 10 years later when it’s asked again in a slightly different form, the question dictates everything else about your future.
What do you want to major in?
Daniel had been 16 when he answered that question — the woes of a birthday in what he liked to call no-man’s land. His July birthday was late enough that he was always the youngest in his class, but early enough that his school enrollment hadn’t been deferred by a year.
At 16 years old, Daniel Ricciardo chose political science while deciding to do a pre-law program. He still wanted to be just like his father and go into government. And just like his father, his eyes were set on the White House. So he majors in political science and picks Yale University — not that the university was much of a choice when generations of Ricciardos went to Yale.
Two years later, his dreams of being like his father and the White House are shattered in the white, clinical walls of the doctor’s office.
A few nights later, they get trampled on.
“You’ll just have to marry the President,” his grandfather says when they tell the family, “or pray that your cousin has the makings of a strong President.” And at that dinner, Daniel understands why Michelle kept minimal contact with their grandfather.
Daniel doesn’t say anything, just nods his head and clenches his fists. No one contradicts what his grandfather says, not Daniel, not Michelle, not his mother, not his father.
It simply is not done. So Daniel pivots despite his father’s desire to change the whole damn system so Daniel can be anything he wants. Daniel pivots and finds new things he enjoys now that holding office is a far-fetched dream. He pivots and applies to Georgetown’s Law School on a whim instead of the law schools at Yale or Harvard that everyone else expected him to apply to.
The life he begins to build isn’t one he’d envisioned all those years ago when he sat in a counselor’s office and chose political science as his major. But at 30 years old and a respected lawyer who gets to argue for a living, Daniel is… content.
Max is 17 when they ask him what he wants to major in and expect him to decide what his life will be like for the next 40+ years.
He doesn’t have to think too hard about the answer because it really isn’t a question at all. Max had known since he was seven years old how he wanted his life to play out. His father knew. His mother knew. And by this point, even his little sister was well aware of what Max wanted to become one day.
At 17 years old, Max picks his major to be public policy and administration with a minor in political communication and campaigning. While his classmates apply to schools like NYU, Columbia, Princeton, Rutgers, Harvard, MIT, and other major schools, Max applies to CUNY – Baruch College specifically.
Max doesn’t have the luxury of not working while going through college. On weekdays, he works at his local representative’s office answering constituent phone calls and filing papers. On weekends, he works at the old, somewhat rundown arcade. And in between all of that, Max does his schoolwork.
Piece by piece things fall into place for Max’s goals. While working with one of the New York Senators in DC, Max finishes his graduate program and he returns to New York for his own campaign for state office. He spends a few years there, making his name known in the community that will eventually elect him for higher offices.
Then he runs for the US House of Representatives – already a well known figure in his local community and known for having people’s best interest in mind, he wins in a landslide. The House of Representatives is dramatic and chaotic and not where Max wants to spend the rest of his career.
So he runs for a Senate position when the previous Senator decides to retire. It’s the next rung in the career ladder, or at least it is in his opinion as many of his colleagues in the House are quite happy with their positions there.
His position in the House had been great for introducing him to the national stage of politics, but it is in the Senate where Max makes him name known and puts himself in contention for the highest office in the US political system.
Max’s sight is set on a position higher than a US Senator. No, Max Verstappen wants to be President of the United States. He wants to be the leader of the free world. He wants and wants until he’s standing at the top of the US political hierarchy.
________
Posting the first chapter felt very needed after quali last night
The title is from a quote that is attributed to First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt: “The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.”
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HUMAN PERRY AU BACKSTORY
I've been having a lot of thoughts lately about Human Perry headcanons as I read a bunch of fic and rewatch phineas and ferb. You know you're hitting the nail on the head when scenes from a fic you might never write dog your every waking step and haunts your dreams so, I thought putting it on paper will help.
A lot of fics like to suggest that Perry's full name is Peregrine, which is understandable, but ever since I've rewatched 2D and found out their first name for him was actually Bartholomew my life was never the same. So Perry's actual name is Bartholomew. But nobody actually calls him that least of all himself.
FAMILY RELATIONS
-I really like winding headcanons that Perry is Ferb's biological mom's BROTHER, which honestly makes so much sense as to why both he and Ferb have green hair. Here are some add-ons that may get depressing;
Ferb's mom was Eve, or Evelyn. Her codename was E, for Echidna...because egg-laying mammals native to Australia. They were both orphans, and attached to the hip. They were each other's partner in crime.
-They were scouted for OWCA one day, bc the agency liked picking up kids with potential as young as possible. So Perry and Eve were trained for the agency since the start (which is why Perry is such a good agent at what seems to be a young age)
MY HEADCANONS FOR OWCA
-Owca is a largely independent authoritarian enterprise with branches all over the world. They aren't the only ones, obviously.
-OWCA also prefers training agents as early as they could. Sometimes that entails scouting talent. Sometimes that means taking in kids of employed agents. Either way, this means OWCA has elementary and high schools that are more akin to militant training camps. It's not cruel. The kids are well cared for and well fed, but OWCA prioritized competency, obedience and discipline.
On every level of OWCA recruitment, training and employment, there is a fedora, and band to mark whichever level you are on the totem pole.
1) Middle school kids are given a bandless fedora.
2) High school kids (soon to be graduates) are given a white band
3) Fresh graduates, training into full employment, are Yellow Bands. Here you start being assigned to full branches, and trained by field work professionals. Think OWCA Files.
4) It's fairly easy to graduate from Yellow Band into a Purple Band. Purple Bands are largely refereed to as Junior Agents, but that's not quite accurate. Purple Bands are the highest reporting authority in any division that ISN'T FIELD WORK. The OWCA Tech, Clerks, RnD and Science Divisions all have Purple Bands to signify they are fully employed, or Superior Officer. Pinky has a Purple Band.
5) It's VERY DIFFICULT to graduate from a Purple Band to a Black Band, not least because there IS NO PREDETERMINED TEST. Black Band agents are Superior Agents, only one level below Division General. There's no telling what could turn you from a Purple to a Black, because the agent has to prove unwavering obedience and faith to the agency in dire circumstances. It's saying "I am willing to do anything for the Greater Good." Often it entails a death of some sort. OWCA often says Black is the band soaked in blood. Black Band agents have licenses to kill. It's why Black Band Agents are few and precious far in between.
6) After a black band, and you live long enough to retire, you can choose a bunch of things. Most agents choose to become Division Generals or Branch Managers: think Major Monogram. They're basically glorified "Guy in the Chair". Some agents choose to become educators, in which case they are given White Fedoras. White fedoras arent exclusive to black bands though; there are plenty purple band white fedoras. In fact most educators are purple band white fedoras.
-Perry's Black Band Event was Eve's death
-At the time of Eve's death, she had already been married to Lawrence. Ferb was barely a year old, maybe 10 months old?
-Lawrence was told it was a car accident: drunk driver. Truthfully it was a mission gone wrong, involving an underground child trafficking ring, and she stayed behind to give them all the chance to escape. She didn't have the chance to escape when security explosives around the building detonated, and she got caught in the crossfire. Perry had to leave her behind.
-This is why Perry refused to get a partner btw, aka his Lone Wolf tendencies come from.
-In the aftermath, OWCA agents approached the family to give them their condolences, and offer to take Ferb into the fold. For the first time since Eve's death, Perry practically lost it. He didn't hurt anyone, he's much too professional, but he knew Eve didn't want Ferb to get wrapped up in OWCA, and for good fucking reason. Due to their training, neither he nor Eve had much of a childhood, and he refused to subject Ferb to the same kind of life experience.
OWCA was NOT happy. Things were tetchy for a while, at least until Perry was approached by Major Monogram. Francis had a wife, and a son, and he understood where Perry was coming from. He suggested taking a permanent residence in Danville, which was his branch division. It was more stability than Perry ever had working in England, where he and Eve was originally stationed, and it was easy enough to come up with a work-related story to convince Lawrence, who was more than ready enough to leave the house where he and Eve originally lived.
-It was after moving did Lawrence meet and fall in love with Linda.
Edit; I've decided to change Ferb's bio mom's name bc I found something that fits better to me :) She's Eve now
End Backstory.
#the ending is a bit abrupt but i hope the post was comprehensible#so he did basically help raise Ferb until they moved to the states#and he meets Heinz yadda yadda yadda#I like the flavour of angst in his backstory#and why he enjoys the peace that comes with stability in Danville even despite all the chaos#bc then OWCA doesn't really bother him since he has his hands full actually#I also like giving depth and dimension to Francis#instead of making him just like. This bad guy#Because he didnt want Monty to be a part of OWCA either#perryshmirtz#perry the platypus#human perry au
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So the thing is I wasn’t going to comment on the sixth episode. I just got home from a hella good play and I’m tired so I relax with Star Trek but holy shit
What IS that
With that HELLO and welcome to my first thoughts on the sixth episode (The Enemy Within) of the original Star Trek series
Here we go:
- that is a fucking dog
- IS THAT BLOOD?!? On Star Trek???
- so he got transporter cloned.. WHY IS HIS FACE LIKE THAT THO
- I like the fact it’s told a bit in retrospect, like it starts off with the star date and saying that at the time they didn’t know he got cloned
- MCCOY! His friendliness and then the “I have no sympathy for clumsiness” bro wha
- DONT YELL AT MCCOY
- McCoy not knowing what to do about Jim so he goes to Spock lol
- what the fuck is that fuckin thing, it’s rabid man.
- anytime someone is holding the creature there is literally no reason for them to be holding it. Like Kirk is just holding it and then HANDS IT TO SPOCK.. WHY IS THIS NORMAL NOW
- so do people casually just sit on tables here? First we had McCoy, now Spock. Is it just science/medical officers?
- Vulcan nerve pinch for the win
- POV your boyfriends are deeply concerned for your wellbeing (side note: bones looks so soft in the first pic. He cares so much)
- “you have a point, Spock.” “Yes. Always, doctor” STOP FLIRTING
- “If I seem insensitive to what you are going through, you must understand it’s the way I am.” HE SAYS THIS WITH ALL THE CARE IN THE DAMN WORLD. Spock is the most emotional character I have ever seen
- uh oh the circuits
- nooo Sulu! Do they not have better cold protection?
- YEAH I HOPE YOU’RE IN PAIN FUCKER
- so I think what they’re trying to promote is the idea that there’s the kind and indecisive side and the animalistic “sinful” side that has all the impulses and power to make decisions and together they work so that the former side can calm the latter to be more… civilized?
- “god forbid I have to agree with Spock” they’re married and you cannot convince me otherwise
- was that dog okay? Like it was really fuckin angry at something
- HES DEAD JIM MOMENT! WE HAVE A HES DEAD JIM MOMENT
- “for once I agree with you, doctor” THEY ARE MARRIED
- Spock is so riled up rn (every time he shows emotion I’m commenting on it because I think he is so so emotional but then his whole thing is he isn’t)
- SPOCK YOUR LOGIC ISNT LOGICING (having a human half and Vulcan half I think is a bit different than literally being split into two people, but what do I know)
- they are literally the angel and devil on his shoulder, but married, and also in love with him
- what no no bring Sulu back. That was such a good delivery of lines I am so
- this episode shows the power imbalance between Kirk and Janice and that messaging could be more powerful if they really wanted. Like showing how Janice felt forced to say she was okay with it and wouldn’t tell anyone because it was the captain I feel was a big step to take in the 60s (because it was rarely if ever talked about especially on tv) but it still wasn’t enough and was treated horribly in the end. They brush off her experience and also let Kirk be near her which is not okay. I know they wouldn’t but I wish they’d actually addressed the fact that Kirk can pretty much get away with anything and the crew wouldn’t/couldn’t stop him unless they deem it truly necessary (which would be way to far)
- I think the Kirk stuff could be more impactful
- some of those close ups on Kirk are crazy
- Bones is so damn worried about him in the transporter room
- SPOCK IS STRESSED AND HE HESITATES
- “the imposters back where he belongs, forget him” but isn’t the thing is that he is you? Like he’s still there and apart of you, Kirk
Okay, that’s episode six. I don’t have much more to say about this episode.
Ep 1
All other episodes
#Star Trek#star trek the original series#star trek tos#star trek kirk#tos kirk#captain james kirk#star trek spock#tos spock#spock#star trek mccoy#tos mccoy#leonard bones mccoy#star trek sulu#tos sulu#hikaru sulu#yeoman janice rand#janice rand#television t0ast talks
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I'm not the best at these kinds of things (headcanons) but I just had to put it out into the world before I go crazy. This is mostly inspired by DEATH by Melanie Martinez (link). It's half-baked and has no real end. Do with it what you want
Warning(s): death / wonky use of past and present tense
Part 2 (ish)
Okay so I've had this idea of a soldier (you) that's a human experiment done by the government
And through science or something you are immortal and heal really quick
Like a stab wound is nothing, a bullet is maybe an hour or two
Very indestructible
You get bounced around different squads and countries
And when it's time to move on, you get from their handler the signal that they have to fake their death the next time you go on a mission
It has been like that for years until the 141
At first, the boys don't trust this random soldier Laswell claims is needed until they actually see the absolute beast that is you (you know how to fight and fight well)
Price likes you because you're a fighter. You know how to follow orders and have great discipline
Ghost is iffy at first, but when you take a bullet and a knife to the shoulder for him he sees that you're not just some rando that's temporarily placed with them. He also feels like he owes you
Gaz and Soap are happy to have your company
I feel like they are the most likely to actually talk to you. They don't trust you immediately (Soap does after what you did for Ghost)
Soap is also happy to no longer be the youngest around
It's honestly a surprise to you that you mesh with the Task Force so well
Because most soldiers see you more as a hindrance than an asset
And you're honestly glad to have not received a message to move on
Days turn to weeks, and weeks turn into months that you're with the 141
This is the longest that you've been with one team and you feel at home
You train with Ghost and celebrate every time you manage to beat him. The man actually laughs when you flop him onto his back and you jump up and down
You help Gaz with cooking when it's his duty. He's a horrible cook, but with your help, his pasta doesn't taste like dog piss
You keep Price company while he does paperwork. He takes your cup of steaming coffee with a grateful smile before turning back towards the file. You take place on the chair in front of his desk and read
You and Soap are often found outside playing soccer together or on the shooting range. He teaches you about explosives and you improve his reloading speed
Everything is fine and you actually feel like a member of the 141. You even think they forgot about you until you've got called into Price's office for a secured phonecall
Price eyes you as you receive the news to get yourself KIA on the next mission and report to your handler
The captain raises his brows and you lie that it was a message from your family. Something about a cousin getting married.
You even joke with the guys before the briefing about how your parents felt the need to go above and beyond to bring you the news
The mission is simple; get in, extract the hostage, and get out.
You're quiet on the way towards the location, your mind racing a million miles an hour about how you're supposed to leave this
How you're expected to leave the first people who felt like home to you since... ever
You don't notice that a tear has escaped you until Soap has laid a hand on your shoulder. You quickly wipe it away and give the sergeant a smile, reassuring him you're okay
The mission went smoothly until Ghost radioed in that the hostage had a bomb strapped to their chest
You see your opportunity and make your way over to Ghost. He's concerned when you tell him you can free the hostage from their vest
And you do so, successfully
The hostage is free and Ghost is leading them away
You grab your chance and mess with the vest, making it display ten seconds until detonation
"Ghost... Run..."
He turns around, his eyes wide behind the mask. They flicker between you and the vest in your hands
Seeing that the lieutenant isn't moving, you take your own initiative and start running
Away from Task Force 141
Away from your guys
The vest explodes and it makes the building above you collapse and burn. You manage to crawl out under the rubble and get to the rendezvous point that your handler has given you
A chopper is already waiting for you once you get there
Teary-eyed, you watch the buildings grow smaller and smaller until you're too far away from them
Meanwhile...
Soap tries to dig you out from under the rubble but gets pulled away by Ghost
He fights the lieutenant as tears stream over his face
Task Force 141 is sombre once they arrive back at the base and give you an unofficial burial
One of the hardest things Price ever had to do was report your death to Laswell
Months pass before the boys are a semblance of okay. They are no stranger to death and they know they have to move on, but you were something else
There is a you-shaped hole in the team's heart that won't close for a very long time
You are being bounced around again to different teams all over the world
Until KorTac
You've received word that KorTac bought you and that you've got a new handler
That being König
At first, he isn't thrilled about taking care of you. That is until he sees how capable you are
Where König goes, so do you
It's one of those missions that the unthinkable happens
You're scoping a building, clearing a path for König when you spot familiar figures at the end of the hallway
"Shit", you curse, pressing yourself to the wall
König looks at you with raised eyebrows before peeking around the corner
At the end of the hallway stand Soap and Gaz, and you have no way of escaping without hurting them
#call of duty#call of duty mw2#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty mw3#cod#cod mw2#cod mw3#cod x reader#cod headcanons#cod x gn!reader#cod x you#ghost#simon riley#ghost x reader#ghost x gn reader#soap#john soap mactavish#soap x reader#soap x gn!reader#price#captain price#john price#price x reader#price x gn reader#gaz#kyle garrick#gaz x reader#gaz x gn!reader#super solder!reader#call of duty x reader
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Case Study 1
Pairing: detective!Bucky x doctor!reader
Summary: Prologue of how the geneticist and the detective met.
Warnings: Angst (in chapters to come)
A/u: 80s (Starts off in late 70s)
A/n: Howdy. Same drill; PLEASE DON'T STEAL MY WORK. God bless.
xxx
August 31, 1979
"Barnes." Stark acknowledges as he walks into the detective's office. "Stark." James says, removing his glasses and laying them on his brown desk. "Here are the evidence forms. We contacted Doctor Banner, but he's caught up in something. So, in place, he's sending his brightest intern." Tony states, sitting on the desk. "An intern?" James sighs, rubbing his cheeks. "Apparently she's good." Tony shrugs, lighting his cigar. "No smokin' in here. Ma complains about the smell." James waves away the smoke. Tony rolls his eyes and walks to the door. "You two start Monday, September 3rd." With that, Tony leaves.
September 3rd, 1979
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Doctor, I'm detective Steven Rogers." Bucky hears Steve as he walks into the building. "The pleasure is all mine, detective. I'm Doctor Y/N Y/L/N." Y/N smiles warmly, shaking Steve's hand. "Doctor? I thought you were a novice." James states as he walks in, and Steve shakes his head with a quiet sigh. "I'm a Probationer, actually. Mr Barnes Junior." Y/N states. "Is that so?" James asks, lighting his cigar. "Indeed. However I lean more towards the science in genetics than medical practice." She says. "Very well. Well now that we've passed the introduction phase let's get to the case, shall we?" Barnes changes the subject. "Yes of course." Y/N smiles. James feels his heart jolt at her warm smile, so he returns it.
September 21st, 1979
"You're aware that the case ended like a week ago, right?" Sam Wilson asks, slipping his coat over his shoulders. "Oh we're very aware. Doctor Y/L/N is just helping me uncover more family schemes and suspect. Because she's a genius and all." Barnes shrugs. "Right. And that's why she's sitting on your desk." Sam says as he leans against his colleague's doorframe. "Goodnight Sam. Take care." Y/N smiles and singsongs. Sam sighs and shakes his head as he leaves, and once his back is turned to them he allows the smile to take over his face.
November 16th, 1979
"Buck, can I ask you something?" Y/N looks over at James, tucking a strand of overgrown hair behind his ear. "Ask away, doc." He smiles, looking down at the filed paperwork on his lap. "How would you like to meet my family?" She hums, twirling his hair between her fingertips. "Isn't it a bit soon, dollface?" He asks, finally looking at her. "I don't think so. For all they know we could've been together since September 3rd." She states calmy. Bucky smiles at his girl, taking her hand into his. "They're going to swoon over you. Trust me. Just brace yourself for questions. They have loads of them. About anything and everything." She says. James laughs, tilting his head to the side. "I can't wait to meet them. When and where do we go?" Bucky is quick to shift closer, intrigued and excited.
They shared their first kiss over New Year's. And, 4 months later, Y/N had a shimmering engagement ring adorning her left hand.
September 3rd, 1980
"And do you, James Buchanan Barnes, take Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, to be your lawfully wedded wife?" The pastor asks. "I do." James smiles, more sure about his answer than he's ever been. "And do you, Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, take James Buchanan Barnes to be your lawfully wedded husband?" The pastor asks. Y/N sucks in a breath of excitement as she looks at all the seated and waiting guests, and then to her almost husband, his beautiful baby blues shining with the utmost love and adoration, "I do.". "You may now kiss the bride." The pastor announces. The crowd cheers and applauds as James dips his wife and kisses her.
"This is so bananas that on this very day, a year ago, we met for the first time. And now we're married." Y/N says dreamily as her husband kisses her knuckles as they sit at the bride and groom table. "Yeah, love acts in mysterious ways." He agrees, feeling himself get physically lost inside her eyes. "I love you, Y/N Y/M/N Barnes." He smiles, eyes scanning over her breath-taking features. "And I love you, James Buchanan Barnes." She hums in agreement. "Tonight I'm exceptionally grateful that Doctor Banner was busy." James smiles. "Want to know a secret?" Y/N whispers. "Always." He whispers. "He wasn't really busy. But I asked to go in his place." Y/N smiles up at her husband. "Wait. What?" He asks, scrunching his nose up as he smiles.
"Well, I wanted to gain experience fairly quickly, and word about NY's hottest detective on the look for a Geneticist came my way, so I pulled a few strings." Y/N admits. "So I have my beautiful wife to thank for this?" Bucky asks with a smile. "And Tony, for allowing a rookie in on a big case." She smiles playfully. "You helped us ace that case." James says in return.
xxx
This will probably just be a mini-series. But I'll see how it does, and decide thereafter.
#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes drabble#bucky barnes series#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes#mcu#avengers#marvel cinematic universe#marvel#marvel mcu#detective!bucky
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Like Crazy (Peck!Spock x Reader)
Plot: just...angsty pining
Words: 566
Warnings: drinking, brief mentions of making out (so slight nsfw), angst, self-angst(?)
A/N: Hey!!! First of all, if you've read that one post about the reason why I stopped writing, I'm here to say everything is still OK between me and my fiance and we plan on getting married in October! Second, it's been a while, like I don't know how long, maybe 2 years? Maybe 3? How's it going! And third, my dad started watching Strange New Worlds and holy shit Ethan Peck is...woah...(in a good way..obv)
Another A/N: If yall see me posting a lot just message me and tell me to get back to my school work because I'm a master procrastinator.
You sit at the bar on the ship, watching as the people party and drink and you do too, well, you drink. You watch as Christine flirt with Spock for the umpteenth time tonight, he looks bored as he makes eye contact with you from across the room. Was he actually uninterested or did he just look like that? You take another shot.
You see Spock walk up to you and you grimace softly. “Too much Christine?”
“Indeed,” he simply said. I try to sit up, but I sway softly. Was the ship unbalanced or were you drunk? You couldn’t even tell until Spock’s hands steadied you. His face was blank, but his eyes were concerned. “You’re intoxicated.”
“I’m not. Why do you care?”
“You are a valued member of this crew,” he said, his voice deep like always and it sent shivers down your spine. This wasn’t even right. Spock shouldn’t be caught in the middle of whatever was going on. Between you and Christine pining after him, trying to win his affection. You swore that there was something there for you in his eyes. He always had a softer look, a softer voice, a softer touch. You don’t want this to end, but if you kept on being a coward then Christine would win him over first.
“Right,” you say with an eye roll.
“I mean it, (Y/N),” he whispered and the shiver returned again.
~
You don’t remember when you made it into the science lab with Spock. Maybe it was adrenaline or maybe you were drunk, but those thoughts went away as Spock pressed you against the table.
“Don’t wake me,” you mumbled against his lips.
“What was that?” Spock asked while pulling away.
You just shake your head. You were scared of that one wrong thing and you’d wake up from this dream. You’d wake up and Spock would realize that you didn’t deserve any of this and he should be with someone like Christine and not some tough security officer. Someone who matches his intellect and can have conversations and requires logic and not force, but you could do that too. What’s the difference between you and her anyway? You can be logical and intellectual too. You seem to be viewing yourself from outside of your body, like a reflection. You see yourself wrap your legs around his waist as he easily lifts you up on the table, making some of the glasses fall to the floor and shatter.
You’re afraid that everything will disappear. Maybe he’s just here to help numb the pain, the pining. Maybe he made his choice and decided that he wanted you and not Christine, she was leaving for the Fellowship after all. Maybe this wasn’t a dream after all.
You let him lean into you, placing kisses against your neck, one of his hands holding your thigh and the other resting on your lower back, holding you up, making sure you don’t touch any of the broken glass. Your hands go towards his uniform shirt, grasping it.
~
You wake up in your bed, the skin on your neck tingling softly from where you dreamed of the kisses and the bites. You take a minute to ground yourself, making sure that you are awake and aware, your fingers slowly touching the tingling skin.
“Alone again,” you hissed to yourself, wiping away tears, “what’s the point?”
#star trek#star trek imagines#ethan peck#star trek strange new worlds#star trek snw#star trek spock#snw spock#snw#spock x reader
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A Court of Mischief and Purpose Chapter Eighteen (Loki x fem! Reader Hiddlesverse Crossover Series)
Series Summary: Based on Sarah J Mass's A Court of Thorns and Roses series with the Tom Hiddleston characters. You are a woman of 1880's in Aldwinter in Essex, England, dying of tuberculosis. Never to be married to the local Lusty Vicar. When Loki appears to you and offers to heal you...if you spend a week of every month with him
Chapter Summary: Longing to return to your husband and friends, you take the next steps for revenge, both big and small. Your powers perform a miracle for the town to get you into their good graces. Then, an unexpected invitation arrives.
Word Count: 4K (for me, that's short. Don't wanna write super long chapter bc I fear people hate it)
Chapter Warnings: No smut, but mentions of sex and masturbation with references to and deconstructing the canon events The Essex Serpent the book, and the show, including not portraying Cora or Will or their affair sympathetically so if you don't like that don't read this, discussions of cheating and a brief mention of the fear of sexual violence. Loki gets jealous for a hot second. Some angst, but some humor. Supporting Women's Wrongs. Reader causing problems on purpose. Portrayals of religion. My saltiness slips out into roasts.
Series Masterlist
A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad
Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr
The first letter had its destination. You got out a piece of paper, writing down the address of the seminary that appointed him the vicarage of Aldwinter. Then you began writing.
“Dear sirs,
I have some unfortunate news. I suspect the Reverend William Ransome is not of moral character fitting his position here. He is engaged to marry…”
You hesitated. Thinking carefully, if you signed it with your name, Will would know it was you. No, you couldn’t risk that. You continued writing.
“... a Miss Y/L/N. However, an intact love letter from a woman named Mrs.Seaborne was discovered in his possession. It is dated during his still current engagement to Ms. Y/L/N. It is enclosed here. There must be an inspection in his vicarage to see if he encouraged Mrs. Seaborne and if there were other incidents. If found that he behaved in a manner not befitting godly character, it is doubtful he can have the right to sacred orders and to function as a public figure of the church at least in Aldwinter.”
Sincerely,
An anonymous member of the congregation.”
Stuffing both this paper and the first letter in an envelope, you then sealed with wax. Then wrote down the address of the council.
You hurried to the post office, paid postage, and quickly mailed it out before anyone could see. Too many talking mouths.
You heard Loki congratulate you.
‘I couldn’t have done better, my dear. You’ve learned from the best. You’re a wife to the god of mischief indeed.’
Once you got home, though you skimmed over the book of Matthew beside the fire, you weren’t focused on the scripture. You would have to figure out where to send the other two letters. One would have to get to someone in town, anyone who attended church would do. You’d figure out the how later.
But the third one would require research… Mrs. Seaborne’s ambition in life was to become recognized as a woman of science.
Too bad sleeping with another’s fiancee typically results in a woman’s utter ruin.
And now you had the evidence in hand. You had to figure out where to send it to. Which department of science? Who received her research? What if she wasn’t sending it at all, what then? Would she gather up her fossils as Stella loved to gather up seashells?
Your thoughts then returned to Stella… your friend who shared a fate with you.
Had you not been there…it would have been her. She would have married Will and fell in love with him. Been the dutiful, obedient wife who carried the Word in her mouth and his children in her womb. Stella, stricken with consumption, about to die…and for William to repay her devotion and life with him with inconstancy. Doomed to do nothing about her husband’s obsessive lust for another woman and in fact, smile at it.
His happiness was what mattered. His happiness. Not hers.
And she would have borne it without even speaking a complaint. She’d be their matchmaker like a dutiful little wife all while she never let her heart sway to another man, much less bring him to the marriage bed that her upright, moral, virtuous, godly husband had the freedom to. The marriage bed Will would have set on fire and destroyed into bits all while she smiled and laid in it and let him burn her into ashes.
She’d want them to be together. Content and not the least bit unhappy that she never mattered to Will in the first place. She’d even attempt suicide- end her own life- so they could be together!
The perfect wife to a man who couldn’t be decent.
…what would she get out of it?
At the end of the day, who was kissing their lover, and who was the one about to drown?
And even for her selfless and complete and utter devotion to Will…it wouldn’t be the same from him. He wouldn’t be willing to sacrifice or control himself for Stella…not one bit. He was a man who did not deserve her. Did not deserve the great, selfless love she had for everyone in her life…even you.
You were the same not long ago. The self-sacrificial, dutiful, passive wife who wanted nothing but his happiness. That was why you agreed to that bargain on that fateful day.
You had to avenge Stella. Even if now it wouldn’t happen, you had to. For you and she were one half of one whole fate. And in this one, the abandoned woman would not passively sit until she killed herself for such selfish monsters.
If Stella were the one destined to not fight….you would. For her sake as well as yours.
You paused, remembering how frightened she was in Grendel’s cave the last you saw her.
‘How is Stella?”’ you asked Loki. You knew you asked him a hundred times before. And he would tell you.
‘She was having nightmares keeping her awake. Flinching, bursting into tears and fits of great fear of anything involving Grendel…but she is getting better.’
“When will she be home? Her family keeps asking after her…they mourn her as if she died. I cannot stay long with them without weeping. It destroys me every time”
“She was in her house when Grendel took her…she doesn’t feel safe there now. So she wants to stay here...”
“Without it being safe for Thomas to deliver letters…They think she’s your whore for good now.”
“If I forced Stella to be my whore, I think my wife would have something to say about it. Not to mention Jonathan.”
“Oh, he’d say something. His fists can make a whole sentence itself.”
His warm laughter made you smile over the large, thick book in your lap.
“Oh, Loki, bless him-I knew from when he gave her those flowers. But I don’t think he’ll admit he is besotted with her already,” you added on.
“Jonathan is not a man who will easily admit anything, why else did he become a spy?”
In the night, you couldn’t sleep. Your mind was still racing, refusing to shut off. You went to the window in your room, sitting on a chair to stare out. You looked outside at the country darkness outside. For only the stars and moon above showed any light on the little town.
Out of curiosity, your senses reached out. You sensed Will was not asleep at all and not in his house. He was in the field alone of all places! And standing before a bonfire. Then you could sense he was speaking…
“Oh Lord, I renounce my sins…”
Atoning and cleansing his sins? Looks like he was going to need a lot more firewood then.
You stopped your powers. But you went back to here and looked up at the starry sky. You missed them- all of them. Sif’s little glares when something annoyed her. Stella trying on the Asgardian dresses. Robert making quips as he lit a cigarette. Thomas happily chatting over whatever device he was working on Jonathan observing everything stoically, but when someone spoke gently to him, a beautiful smile on his face. Hal’s bright eyes as he taught everyone how to fight with a sword during training. Thor’s loud laughter. Queen Frigga coming in to ask over all of you, for it was her role as an AllMother to be Mother to all.
And Loki- dear, funny, charming, mischievous Loki, your True Love, your husband��you missed him most of all.
You had to be patient. It would only motivate you further. Once this was all done and you figured it out, you would return to see all of them without a minute’s delay.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
The hairy dog that kept humping things was approaching your front yard.
His pet was with him.
“Ah, dear Reverend, will you stop by for tea?” your mother hurried off from your gardening together to greet Will.
“Yes, you are welcome,” you repeated, though your voice felt small.
He was in his overcoat and his formal green vest. The spaniel barked at his feet, tail wagging but held close thanks to the leash. You smiled and leaned down to pet him, for had you become married to the Lusty Vicar, the dog would be the most loyal man in your life.
“I only have time to stop and say my hellos- especially for the lady here, please,” Will greeted, his eyes shining at you.
You returned up. You fluttered your eyes down in a picture of docility and chastity.
“It’s nice to see you too,” you greeted sweetly.
He then did something you were surprised he did in your mother’s presence. With his free hand, he found the ends of your skirt and gently tugged you a little closer to him. He smiled up at you.
“Why, how are you, my dear?” he asked.
“Doing alright,” you answered.
“I hear your headaches have been better, are you getting rest?”
“Yes, plenty as I can, Will,” you answered.
“That’s good, my darling,” he replied.
You heard Loki cut in.
“That’s MY word for you!”
“Hush!” you sent back
“I just sent a telegram to Bishop Anderson. He has been promised there will be no disruptions and he will marry us next month,” he announced, his voice soft and almost on the edge of seduction. Completely unaware of the letter you sent to the council and the disaster about to hit him in at least a few weeks.
Loki cut in again- “You do know that every Thursday he goes to the ocean and relieves his seed in it to thoughts of Cora!”
“I’m not surprised- hush!” you silently urged your husband again.
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” you replied, smiling at him.
“Are you going to be at the dance tonight, Y/N?”
The thought of being in there and having to endure potentially being in the same room as Mr. I-Can’t-Think-Straight-Around-Her and Cora and not screaming at both of them made you feel nauseous.
But he didn’t need to know that now.
“Oh, of course, I shall!” you replied.
“Ah, then I hope to dance with my wife then,” he prodded.
“We are not yet married,” you reminded him meekly, folding your hands and looking demurely down.
“Yet you are mine already in my heart. For nothing shall stop me from joining you in Holy Matrimony and for us together to spend a life doing God’s will. I shall escort you there tonight, Y/N,” he promised.
He wasn’t wrong about the first bit, as Grendel told you.
He took your hand and kissed it. You grinned up at him with a loving look on your face.
Yes, Y/N, smile. Be polite. Charming even. And never let him know you want him dead.
Then, urging his dog forward with his leash, he went about his way through the brown and white town.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
That night was the promised dance. You kept your word and went with him.
So many others would gather- that dance hall with candlelight that made the brown walls orange. Some people dressed in dark colors, but young people eager to flirt and laugh. Tables full of punch, cake, and fruit. A piano constantly playing.
And Will in a tuxedo like the other men, ever the picture of handsomeness. You had three dances with him. The number permitted for an engaged couple. As tempting as it was to grab the neck of his bow tie and strangle him with it was there, you fought it back.
No, you looked up at him and smiled. Curtsied at the end of dances as people clapped around you.
Of course, Cora was there in her grey dress. But when she arrived, you put on a smile and curtsied and greeted her like any other person. Not talking to her more than you had to. You kept your eyes down for the rest of the party- sensing her like you were in the ocean and felt the presence of a shark. You knew Will would still stare at her intensely in your own presence. You would pretend like you didn’t know, and keep your eyes down again like a docile lady with no thoughts but love and marriage.
Maybe he had you both in boxes. For surely he thought you didn’t consent to be in Loki’s bed and that was why he pitied you as opposed to hated you. There was also the loophole- you were still considered chaste even though you weren’t. Since you didn’t want to bed Loki but were forced to.
You were his Virgin. Cora was his Whore.
He wanted to marry you because you fit being the chaste wife who sipped tea and quoted Philippians. And he could do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted with Cora. One for his house and the other for his hand. Cora couldn’t be that wife for the vicarage. And you couldn’t be the one who could spit out some stupid science fact to make his penis erect.
He wanted both. To have his cake and eat it too, like what Robert would say.
But as the party progressed…it occurred to you that you might be a little wrong at least on your part. Will’s touch on you was still proper- an arm to drape yours over. But only slightly more amorous, sometimes a hand to touch your back. Sometimes a brief, chaste kiss. Becoming slightly more amorous.
It then hit you…Did Will…lust after you? It wasn’t just chaste affection or passion he felt for you- but did it include the Lusty Vicar’s Lusty Penis?
You stopped for a moment and mused on it. Will left you to talk to some friends, promising he’d be back.
Honestly, It flattered you to be desired. And you had to have the shield up to not hear Loki’s complaints of jealousy right now.
You knew Will wouldn’t urge you to his bed before marriage. At the most extreme, not publicly.
But…what if…what if that passion was still there? With the wedding re-planning, you knew it would happen soon. If you let time slip, you will find yourself a bigamist! You knew the Lusty Vicar would live up to his nickname and want to fuck you right after you said your I do’s!
At the most extreme, if that happened…you could say no. Will had done some disgusting and reprehensible things…but you couldn’t imagine him forcing himself on you.
Perhaps you could tell him “no” on your wedding night. Tell him you were still distressed from being the Trickster God’s whore. Tell him you weren’t ready to consummate your (second) marriage. Will would very likely comply. Maybe even tell him to sleep on the couch alone. Now- there was a funny picture! You- safe and snug in that blue bed and asleep. And the tall, hairy man curled up on his couch as much as his height would allow him. The cold air deflating the Lusty Vicar’s Lusty Penis like a balloon after a party.
But…how long would that last? He’d respect you but suspect something was up. Then, how could you discreetly get revenge on him after you wedded him?
You had to cool him.
But looking up, you saw with silent horror that he was staring at Cora again. There was a piano playing-a dance theme like you heard in your old dream. A song urging them to dance. Rage burned in the bottom of your stomach.
He needed not only cooling but the equivalent of a swift kick to the groin- and you had an idea of how to do both at once.
Looking over, you noted the tablecloth of the refreshment table was a dark green. Your True Love’s favorite dark green.
Perfect.
You went up to the refreshment table for punch, taking a little cup and going to the glass bowl. A few guests talked nearby- a couple of gentlemen including a young surgeon the town had. Dark hair and a round face, an apparent friend of the woman who ruined your life, and an expert in new ways of his profession. Chatting about amputation or other polite topics.
You then looked down and pretended to see the deep green cloth.
You dropped the glass in your hand it shattered on the ground. You let out a scream seeing the tablecloth. Conjuring tears and shaking, but careful not to step on the glass shards.
The party stopped, even the stupid piano trinkle music, to look at you.
You put a hand over your mouth and burst into tears. With the anger, the sadness, and the grief you had inside, it wasn’t hard.
“Why…what is the matter?” one woman in a dark dress asked.
“It’s Loki…like Loki’s-green like his-his-” you muttered out.
You then turned to the first man in that little group of men next to the table. Before Will could interfere, you flung yourself at the surgeon. Wrapped your arms around him in a shaking embrace. You recalled his name- what was it again? Oh, yes!
“Lucas! Oh, Lucas! Help me! The trickster god!” you cried.
You held him tight and sobbed into the white shirt of his suit.
“What, uh, is the matter, Miss?” he asked, unsure of what on earth was going on.
“It’s green! The very green like his bed was! The trickster god is going to get me! He’s going to force me to bed him again! Oh, Lucas- please! Protect me! Say you’ll protect me! Anyone, please!” you wailed.
There were a few whispers of pity from the crowd. Lucas was stiff and uncomfortable of being labeled as your protector.
“There there, Miss Y/L/N. Sure I-we will keep you, uh. safe. it’s alright, you’re safe, no need to make a fuss, shhh,” he patted awkwardly, rocking you back and forth as you clung to him.
You peeked out and saw Will look absolutely white and silently angry seeing you embracing the surgeon.
A taste of his own medicine.
You heard Loki’s voice.
‘Hal’s dying of laughter right now over this. Jonathan is cracking a smile despite himself. Stella is telling them all it is not funny and excusing herself to go to a corner and giggle.’ he said.
Lucas took note of Will and you heard a little panic in the surgeon’s voice.
“I, uh, think you should- should get home and- er, drink some tea and get some rest,” Lucas advised, desperately peeling you off of him before you went to Will. Pure terror on the surgeon's round face noticing the awkward situation he was in.
“I will escort my fiancee back home,” he said coldly, glaring at Lucas.
You were escorted sternly by Will, you pretended not to notice the jealous little huff in his voice when he said goodnight at your door.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
The second Sunday was the right Sunday to do the next part of your plan- for it was bright and sunny.
You were already early there to help teach Sunday School as promised. You made sure to talk in a sweet voice as you handed out the little snacks for the children forced into stiff, fancy clothes. The older teacher fussed at them to remain still. You practiced looking at a window when they turned to her. The children sat bored and sleepy hearing about Jonah.
You saw one little light reflection out of the window flicker on the floor. Then it settled to normal before any young eyes could see.
For the longest time, you wondered why you had these gifts of moving light around- the flash from the sun, from windows, and its reflections. It wasn’t helpful against Grendel…but it would be helpful for revenge.
Service began, and people filed over the floors, made of clear tiles of white and black, almost like a chessboard. And what a move you had in store if it was successful.
You looked up at the light shining through that brown church so it no longer looked dreary.
The service began as normal. Blessed be God’s people now and forever amen and all that. A few hymns. Scripture readings. Will gave a sermon about King Saul and David. The men who were a part of Grendel’s army sitting in the congregation smiling. More intrigued to hear about swords and violence than patience and gentleness.
A prayer would be the right time. Everyone ducked their heads down to repeat what was in the Book of Common Prayer.
“Lord in your mercy,” began Will.
“Hear our prayer” the congregation intoned, as did you.
You stared at the sunlight streaming down all of the windows.
“Lord, hear us,” began Will.
“Lord, graciously hear us,” replied the congregation.
Taking in a deep breath, you silently urged the sunlight to move.
“God of love,” began Will.
“Hear our prayer,” responded the congregation.
The lights moved from the windows over the heads of all. First one stream of light, then another, and another. Everyone’s heads were down to pray, they didn’t notice.
The lights glowing on all the windows were directed at you like stage lights. You felt warm beneath it. You squinted beneath it, smiling, your magic keeping it at you. But kept repeating the prayer responses from the service.
“Lord, meet us in the silence,” began Will.
“And hear our prayer,” replied the congregation.
When their heads turned, they saw the sunlight was all pointing in your direction and beaming right at you.
There were gasps. You heard a few books of Common Prayer taking a tumble to the floor from people dropping them in shock. They gaped at you- the frightened and superstitious town. For many things happened that scared them…this was harmless.
The service went to a halt as they all looked at you.
“It’s a sign! From God!” one murmured.
“He blessed her!” whispered another.
“A blessed lady!” another agreed.
They lost interest in Will, whose mouth dropped wide, then broke into a smile. He saw a miracle before him.
The congregation turned to you. One woman went up to you and you offered your hand, she kissed it.
“God has blessed you, my dear- it’s a sign from him!” she gasped.
“He has redeemed her…redeemed her from the Trickster God!” agreed another.
They all loved and looked at you favorably, their eyes soft and their faces turning to smiles. You released the magic and suddenly Will had to re-direct everyone’s focus back to him and the service.
But they went up to you, smiling and in awe and admiration and coming in droves to smile in awe of you once it was over.
Now you had to keep it up for a good reputation in this town was as good as an alibi.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
The next day, you received something in the mail- something completely shocking you almost dropped it, but it was shaking in your hand.
“I do cordially invite you to a celebration of my birthday- held on the date below. Please write back if you will be there. We plan for only a few gifts here and there, some nice beef, and plenty of cake and ice cream. We shall prepare enough seats for the dinner.
Mrs. Seaborne.”
She invited you! She invited you! To her birthday celebration! What was she thinking?! Why? Did she want the new miracle woman in her circle? Was she trying to perhaps re-acquaint herself with you after sticking Will’s penis up her-
You caught yourself, catching your breath. When your parents arrived, they hurried and saw the paper. Their eyes went to you.
“I am only…only…”
Calming down your racing heart, an idea hit you. If you were at her house, you would figure out which departments of science she was contacting. You would know who to send the blackmail to.
You brought up a smile.
“I am only Thrilled! I shall write to her at once and accept! How fun!” you replied.
You would figure out where to send the second letter to ruin Cora there.
“Wonderful! Good to know your silly jealousy of her is done,” agreed your father.
“But there will be gifts- you must go and find something for her,” your mother reminded you.
…and a new idea came upon you. Another act of revenge on her, even worse than sending a few letters. One where none would ever suspect it to be you.
“I shall, mama.”
You knew what you had to do now, you just had to steel yourself and do it.
#loki smut#loki x reader smut#loki x female reader#loki my beloved#tom hiddleston#angst with a happy ending#fanfiction#loki fanfiction#hiddlesverse#tom hiddleston characters#carrie writes#tom hiddelston loki#dammit hiddleston#twhiddleston#tom hiddleston fanfiction#loki fic#loki imagine#loki x reader#loki x fem! reader#loki x you#loki x y/n#loki laufeyson#loki laufeyson x reader#loki laufeyson x fem! reader#loki mcu#loki mcu imagine#fic recs#loki marvel#a court of thorns and roses#loki angst
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A Lion in the Garden -Tywin Lannister x Reader- (Part 10)
WARNINGS: None
Word Count: 8.6k
A/N: Let me say that I am SO sorry guys, I know I haven't updated in forever. This year has been genuine hell for me and because of that I really haven't had the time or mental capacity to update. It will probably stay that way, but hopefully I'll work through my chapters slowly. Thank you all so much for being understanding.
—————
I was determined to change Tywin’s mind. It was something I commonly attempted, and very rarely did not succeed in. However, he was quite relentless upon the subject of marrying Sansa Stark to Tyrion, along with marrying Cersei to Loras. I personally had no intention of letting that stand.
In my opinion, it was clear that his daughter had gotten to his head about my house plotting against theirs. It was understandable to want Sansa Stark for themselves, but I would under no circumstance allow Loras to marry Cersei Lannister.
And so, just as I constantly did now, I found myself in the Hand’s office. Conversation and interaction with the Hand of the King had become a daily ritual, it seemed.
“Good morning, Tywin,” I said, being let into his office and finding him at his desk despite the fact that it was only 7:00 in the morning. He finished a thought and then set his quill down, looking up at me.
“You’re up rather early,” he noted, almost as if it didn’t apply to him either. I raised an eyebrow, folding my hands together.
“I have something to discuss with you that requires immediate attention, and I didn’t want to risk interfering with other meetings or plans, as this might be a long conversation,” I informed, making my way to his desk. As my shoes clacked against the stone floor, he sighed.
“I haven’t a clue what it is that you’d like to discuss,” he remarked sarcastically, leaning back in his chair and resting his hands in his lap.
“Do I need to tell Pycelle that you are having problems with your memory? I’m sure he’d be able to sympathize with you,” I teased him, grinning as I did. Tywin only gave me a look and shook his head.
“Very well, if it pleases you to continue the conversation that even your grandmother could not win, then we shall,” he said, standing from his chair and making his way around the desk. He pulled my chair out for me, and I thanked him with a nod, putting my hand under my skirts as I sat.
“I’m not my grandmother—I know you far better. I’m also not here to make excuses about why we don’t want Loras to marry Cersei, I’m here to explain why it makes no sense. Trust me on this, Tywin, I did plenty of thinking after my grandmother told me what you’d proposed,” I began, enjoying the amusement in his eyes as he sat across from me and sipped the water in his cup. This was going to be quite the conversation.
“Go on then, tell me why it ‘makes no sense’, as you say.”
I straightened in my chair, pressing my lips together for a moment and then beginning. “I know your daughter believes that we—the Tyrells—are plotting against you, and perhaps I can understand where she’s coming from. After all, it’s no secret that I previously had quite a lot of disdain for you. If it had been up to me alone, I probably would have plotted against you.”
Tywin raised his eyebrows, but I did not smile. This was a serious subject, there was no reason to.
“However, that is an utterly ridiculous notion due to the fact that I have always prioritized my siblings. If Cersei does not trust me, then so be it, but our alliance is going to be solidified by a marriage. And yes, we both know Margaery and Joffrey’s marriage is political, though that doesn’t change the fact that you need us for our gold and crops, just as we need you to validate Margaery’s claim as queen. We both benefit, Tywin. I should hope you studied enough science as a boy to know what the term mutualism means,” I said accusingly, to which he waved a hand as a silent ‘oh hush’ and scoffed.
“Yes, Margaery needs Joffrey to ‘officially’ have that title, but let’s not pretend that his title makes him the most powerful. By giving your sister access to him, we—or rather I—have allowed her to take quite a lot of power. Now, I would not go so far as to say that I agree with Cersei about the plotting, because most of her evidence is that Margaery has succeeded in manipulating Joffrey, just as you expected she would. That does not bother me at all, Joffrey needs it. What does bother me is that despite already having plenty of access to power, your family wants to thank me for it by seeking out even more. By stealing it from us,” Tywin said, looking away with aggravation. I sighed, shaking my head and gripping the arms of my chair as I replied.
“It is less about lowering House Lannister than it is strengthening House Tyrell. We have an eldest son that needs marrying and Sansa is the first Stark daughter, to me it seems natural. And, it is not as if your family had some sort of claim to her as anything besides a prisoner of war.”
Tywin huffed and adjusted his seat, beginning to open his mouth until I put my hand out to silence him. He glared, but let me speak anyway.
“Let me put it this way, then. I believe that our continued alliance means that Loras marrying Sansa would increase the power of both of our houses. If we have access to the north, then so do you by association,” I reasoned, raising my eyebrows at him to emphasize my words.
“Yes, in theory we would, but currently our alliance is only officially bound by a manipulative marriage. How am I to trust the strength of our alliance when that is its foundation?” Tywin replied, making me smile softly. Gods, he truly was naive sometimes.
“Their marriage is not its foundation, Tywin, we are. But nonetheless, I already prepared for you having such an opinion. That is why… well, why I am prepared to go to great lengths to ensure that you feel our alliance is strong enough to call off Loras’ marriage to Cersei, especially because Joffrey is a Baratheon in name,” I said, taking a deep breath. The Great Lion only stared at me, slightly turning his head with curiosity.
“To- to strengthen the alliance between our houses, I will- I will marry Tyrion. I have nothing to gain from marrying your son, only something to lose, and yet I will do it anyway if it convinces you that it is no real loss to call off the marriage between Cersei and Loras,” I announced shakily, pulling my hands into my lap so he would not see them tremble.
I watched Tywin’s face for a reaction, and was surprised to see his eyebrows raise and his mouth fall open. I’d truly managed to shock Tywin Lannister.
“You would marry Tyrion to prove our alliance strong?” He clarified, still gaping at me. I would have laughed, but the thought of marrying—not Tyrion specifically, but in general—terrified me. I swallowed and nodded, trying to stop the quivering in my hands.
“Not even Jaime? You are the eldest daughter, (Y/N),” he questioned, utterly bewildered. I only gave him a condescending look.
“Whether you want to accept it or simply live in delusion, Jaime is a part of the Kingsguard. Not to mention, he’s also not here,” I reminded him, to which he scoffed.
“You would truly marry Tyrion? You’re being serious?”
“Yes, I would marry him. That is how much I genuinely believe in our two houses working together rather than against each other. Does that satisfy you?” I said, trying not to let my tone waiver. I was pinching my wrist in my lap, dreading his verdict.
All that Tywin had ever wanted was to be rid of Tyrion, and previous marriage proposals with other houses had not gone so well for him. As he stared at me and contemplated, all I could expect was to hear him say yes. As he had just pointed out, I was the eldest Tyrell daughter. Why shouldn’t he want to marry me to Tyrion?
There was silence for several minutes, and I could see on his face that he was thinking. I hadn’t a clue what he was thinking about, for this seemed to be a very simple thing to me. If anything, I was surprised he hadn’t instantly accepted.
“No, it does not satisfy me. I would never let Tyrion marry you, he is not worthy of a woman such as yourself,” Tywin said finally, hand clenching onto the arm of his chair. Relief went through me, though I was slightly upset by the fact that Tywin was being so rude. “And even if Jaime was here, I wouldn’t marry him to you either. No man in all seven kingdoms is worthy of you.”
We both stared at each other in silence, and there was an odd tension in the air. My lips parted, and he inhaled slowly. We only snapped out of it when he forced himself to look away, reaching for his cup and taking a sip.
“Either way, you’ve proven your point. Our alliance is strong enough that we don’t need a further marriage bond. And, since it is so strong, we would both benefit from Sansa Stark’s claim. However, by your logic, if Sansa Stark were to marry Tyrion, then your family would receive the same benefits as before. There is no reason for me to cancel that betrothal,” Tywin reasoned then, making me scoff and shake my head.
“No. I’m grateful that you at least understand the lack of need to marry your daughter to Loras, but I still feel that he ought to be with Sansa instead,” I replied, shifting in my chair because I’d been sitting here for so long now. Tywin looked at me and then chuckled softly.
“You’re asking quite a lot of me, (Y/N). You should know better.”
“It is you who should know better. Sansa Stark is a sweet girl with few demands, I suppose I have your family to thank for that. You’ve treated her so poorly that all she desires is to be living in Highgarden; she has no expectations of Loras. And, because it is no secret that my brother is fond of men, when she realizes that it may cause disappointment, but it will not be ruinous for their marriage,” I explained to him, only pausing for a moment before continuing with my point.
“Plus, Margaery’s marriage to Joffrey will ensure our alliance for long enough that we will both get Sansa Stark’s claim once her children are of age.” I leaned back in my chair, feeling quite satisfied with how well this was going for me. I could see Tywin fighting for an excuse.
“You would be putting a Tyrell child in charge of Winterfell. You may share that claim with us, but the same cannot be guaranteed for the next generation or two. If I were to marry her to Tyrion, it is an absolute guarantee that a Lannister male will have Winterfell.
“An easy problem to fix, Tywin. Whatever children Loras and Sansa have will marry at least one of Tyrion’s children. That way the Tyrell-Lannister alliance will continue and give those children continued power over the North,” I bargained with him, feeling quite content with such a solution.
“But the rulers of the North would be Tyrell in name.”
“An unfortunate pill you must swallow. I have already explained why it makes more sense for Sansa to marry Loras than your son. Tyrion is better used securing an alliance with another house. There are plenty of eligible daughters, and marrying him to a woman from another, lower house, has no effect. He’s a son of Tywin Lannister, the most powerful man in Westeros. Plus, you’re not the only one who begrudges him for being a dwarf, people wouldn’t think twice if he married a woman a bit lower in status than he. Perhaps a Karstark or a Frey to ensure that they do not join Robb Stark.”
The Great Lion blinked at me slowly, clearly not appreciating the way I was over explaining it to him. Though, he had to admit that it was sound reasoning.
“And what of your brother? None of you shy away from the fact that he is not entirely fond of female company. How can you ensure children from his marriage to the Stark girl?” He asked, folding his hands in his lap with a sort of relaxation. Clearly he’d been waiting to bring this up, and I rolled my eyes.
“Loras is aware of what is expected of him, and is willing to put his desires aside. It was a topic discussed at length when we first learned of his inclinations, and he was quite understanding. There can also be a bedding ceremony, if you should truly require that much assurance,” I said with a sigh, knowing that it was a likely thing to happen. It was rather odd, I felt, that even a man like Tywin Lannister had not been able to deny his own bedding ceremony. Such was the reign of Aerys, though that was long over. There was little shame in admitting that the Hand of the King was most powerful now.
“A bedding ceremony is naturally expected. It will perhaps convince other nobles to ignore the rumors about him,” he replied, looking away as he did. The subject seemed to make him uncomfortable.
“They’re not rumors, Tywin. Let them think whatever they’d like, it doesn’t affect us. I will say, though, that I was quite disgusted by what you think of Loras,” I huffed out, shaking my head at him. His eyes settled on me again, and his eyebrows suddenly furrowed.
“It is unnatural.”
“In my eyes, it’s a preference. Just as some men like younger women and others like older women. We can’t control any of that. Plus, it does not affect his ability to fight, fence, or function as a regular man,” I reasoned, not really understanding why Tywin or anybody else should make such a big deal of it.
“And yet he’s engaging in intercourse that would not produce children. That is what I consider unnatural,” he shot back, brows raising at me as he said it. I gave him a look of utter disappointment, almost as if asking if he was serious.
“Oh Tywin, please. Not all intercourse is for that purpose, even between a man and a woman. You have three children, and by all accounts quite loved your wife. I’m certain you’re familiar with acts of pleasure that don’t produce children,” I laughed, shaking my head at how ridiculous the conversation was.
“My opinion upon the subject is final. You’re more than welcome to feel anger about it.”
“What I feel is more than anger, Tywin, it is disgust—both at you and at myself. How can I, in good conscience, be friends with a man who thinks so poorly of my dear brother? What if I had the same inclinations, Tywin? What would you think of me then?” I said accusingly, glaring at him as I posed the question. Did he truly expect me to look past such an opinion? I admittedly had felt some attraction towards women in the past, though the interest was not exclusive as my brother’s was. The Hand of the King paused as he contemplated.
“I don’t mean to cause offense. It is simply what I believe, just as many others do. If you were to feel the same attraction that your brother does, I would not hold it against you, just as I don’t with your brother, for it is not his only quality,” Tywin replied with a sigh, his shoulders finally relaxing. I shook my head at him, my stomach beginning to sink.
“And since when have you been like anyone else? I suppose I simply just don’t understand why you have such an opinion. I have already disproved what you believe makes it fundamentally unnatural. If your belief stems from religion then I’d like to remind you that the gods… well, you know very well how the gods can be,” I said, pausing myself at the end when I saw the look in his eyes. He knew better than anyone how cruel they were.
“Yes, yes I do…”
I paused, swallowing and looking around before speaking.
“I just- I don’t understand why you chose to dislike a group of people that has never personally offended you,” I said, realization suddenly coming to me when I saw the look on his face. “Unless…”
“I don’t wish to discuss this topic anymore, (Y/N). Our previous conversation was far more relevant.”
“My grandmother said you were quite aggravated by her questioning of your own desires… that you were very insistent upon not being like my brother. I cannot help but wonder, Tywin, if perhaps this hatred comes from your own self loathing. If perhaps you have felt such attraction in the past and did not like feeling that way,” I said, slowly leaning forward in my chair as the puzzle pieces came together. His firm denial of it suddenly made quite a lot of sense.
“Don’t be ridiculous, you know very well that my love for my wife was genuine and strong. To insinuate such a thing-“
“Tywin, you do realize that such feelings are not exclusive, don’t you? I am well aware of how much you loved Joanna, but it does not mean that you cannot also have attraction to men. Perhaps you prefer women, but that doesn’t exclude your same sex entirely. I am simply curious… as you did mention frequently leaving the castle with the late King Aerys… and leaving alone,” I pointed out, watching him grow increasingly uncomfortable. I’d figured it out, it seemed. His eyes were extremely avoidant, and he could not stop shifting in his seat and biting his cheeks. He was embarrassed.
“I do not wish to discuss this.”
I stared at him, and suddenly softened. He was ashamed, of course. And how could I blame him? To be the most powerful man in Westeros, the Hand of the King, and the Lord of Casterly Rock. His job had been to build his house up, to rid the sound of shameful laughter from his halls. So what then if people should discover that the son of the Laughing Lion had ‘unnatural’ inclinations?
I reached across the table, offering him my hand. He did not look at me and he did not take it.
“Listen to me, Tywin. You may not be ready to come to terms with it, and you may not be anywhere near comfortable with discussing such a subject, but know that I am here if you ever want to. Clearly, I don’t think anything of it, and I personally have felt attraction towards women just as well as men. I hope that eventually you will come to see it as I have, for I do not want you to hate yourself for it,” I said softly, looking at him the whole time even despite the fact that he would not look at me.
There was silence after I finished speaking, and only after a minute did he finally adjust his eyes. Tywin looked at my open palm, and with a bit of hesitation he took it. He did not say anything, but I saw his lip tremble as I squeezed his hand.
“I- I consent to the marriage between your brother and Sansa Stark, though begrudgingly. I will discuss it with my children. Tyrion needs to marry regardless, I can’t imagine he’ll like that, but he seemed to pity the Stark girl so at least he can be comforted by that. There’s no doubt in my mind Cersei will continue to try and convince me you’re all plotting, but I suspect all I’ll have to do is remind her that she’s getting out of a marriage thanks to you. Well, getting out of one for now,” he said, letting go of my grip and taking a deep breath.
I nodded, standing up and slowly going over to him. His eyes fixed themself on me as I made my way around the desk. When I reached him, I began to bend down. As a response, he stiffened and froze, entirely uncertain of what I intended to do.
I found myself pressing my lips to his forehead, and my hand came to his hair. His breath caught in his throat, and when I pulled away there was a slightly confused look on his face.
“Thank you, Tywin. I know it’s all politics and such, but I am grateful that you listened to me and understood my point of view. This way, we both succeed and don’t have to sacrifice as much happiness within our families,” I said, reaching for his hand again and giving it another small squeeze.
He nodded, hesitating for a moment before pressing it to his lips. My cheeks heated, though I had not a clue why. It was a common gesture, there was certainly nothing special about it.
But I could not deny the feeling of goosebumps forming along my arm, and the pleasant feeling of his mouth against my skin. A friend had never brought me such comfort before.
When he let it go, I gave him a gentle smile and turned to leave, but was surprised to hear him call out for me.
“(Y/N), wait.”
I faced him again and raised an eyebrow. He’d sat up straighter, and he sighed out as he spoke.
“Since you’re here, there’s something else I’d like to talk about. Especially in light of all that we have just discussed,” he said, his lips thinning as he finished. I could tell this would not be a fun conversation either, somehow.
“Oh?”
“I would like your advice. Another perspective, perhaps. I know what I would like to do, but you are always insistent on doing the opposite of that. And, since it does involve the war, it’s something you ought to hear about,” he explained, much to my curiosity. Had some opportunity presented itself?
I sat down again, and Tywin got up to pour both of us wine. I thanked him when he brought it back over to me. Gods, what a morning.
“So, tell me, what do you require my humble advice about?” I asked, grinning at him rather widely. He shook his head with feigned disappointment.
“Well, Robb Stark beheaded Rickard Karstark just as we had all expected. Since those forces have marched home, he is now trying to convince Edmure Tully to marry a daughter of Walder Frey. He is waving the olive branch, just as you suggested he would.”
I nodded, unsurprised by everything he’d just said. I still had not figured out where he was going with this.
“And if I remember correctly, you said Walder Frey would not make an alliance with him. It seems that’s what he is doing, is he not? Unless there’s something I’m unaware of,” I recounted, an uneasy feeling creeping into my stomach while I did.
“That is what I intend to ask your advice on. Walder Frey was obviously furious that Robb Stark broke his promise. Well, now he seeks revenge for it. He sent a letter asking for the support of House Lannister,” he explained, beginning to avoid my eyes. I started to feel even worse, as I somehow suspected that whatever plan he was about to mention did not involve anything pleasant for Robb Stark.
“Our support to do what, Tywin?” I questioned, holding the arms of my chair now. I hadn’t even been conscious of my usage of ‘our’.
“The plan, essentially, would be to have Robb Stark, his wife, and his mother murdered at that wedding. It would provide allies in House Bolton and House Frey.”
The room was utterly silent besides the sound of our breathing, and I began to feel somewhat queasy. I desired very deeply to end the war… but this… well, this was quite different from any battle. It would ensure victory, but at what cost?
“Roose Bolton would turn?” I asked, trying to process that information first.
“He already has. It was his bastard who burned down Winterfell, not the Ironborn as Robb Stark was led to believe,” Tywin informed me, to which I nodded. It was not entirely surprising; Roose Bolton seemed the type of man to play such a game.
With that out of the way, I further pondered the proposal Tywin had just made. Killing an entire family at a wedding. Winning the war. There were so many pros and so many cons.
“You disapprove of the idea, I take it,” Tywin said finally, seeing that the words had gotten stuck in my throat. I wet my lips with my tongue and then took a deep breath.
“Just- just give me a moment to think. I need to think,” I replied, fidgeting with the sleeve of my dress.
It was an incredibly tough scenario to contemplate. Breaking guest right that way would forever make the north wary of us, and the seven kingdoms were already far too disunited. Not to mention, I would be allowing the murder and possible rape of women by agreeing with him. Tywin could order his own men to not do such a thing, but if the Freys would be committing the act, then…
I did not want to become the person I had lectured Tywin for being, but what else could we do? We could certainly just wait for Robb Stark’s forces to grow tired and beaten down, yet further peace was needed. The distrust would boil over eventually.
Suddenly, an idea began to form in my head, and I nodded to myself as I thought it all out. Perhaps it would work, just maybe.
“Tywin, consider why the Young Wolf is waging war against us. Obviously he marched for Ned Stark at first, but now that his father’s dead the reasoning becomes more murky. Perhaps revenge is part of it, but more than anything he wants his sister back and he wants to go home. With Loras and Sansa to wed and Robb Stark’s forces so small, what if… well, what if we sent them to him? I know it sounds utterly insane, but why would he continue to wage war if his sister is home? If Sansa is happy in her marriage to my brother then it would be even more convincing,” I said, slowly stringing together my thought process and hoping to find a solution.
“With your family linked so closely to mine, who’s to say he wouldn’t just murder Loras?” Tywin asked, turning his head with a sort of caution.
“Because he would most assuredly be crushed then, and I’d personally see to such a thing. But, either way, Robb Stark is an honorable man; if we offer an olive branch, perhaps he’ll take it. And if not him, I cannot imagine his mother wanting to further risk their lives when Sansa is home safe,” I reasoned, taking a sip of wine and letting it soothe the headache that had begun to form.
“You would give him another opportunity to swear fealty? We already tried that, (Y/N), and he responded by calling up his bannermen,” Tywin demurred, raising a wary eyebrow at me. I sighed, shaking my head as I elaborated.
“But the circumstances are vastly different now. The only reason he took up arms was because Ned Stark was imprisoned, and at his age I’m sure he and plenty of others were itching for war. Now he’s been betrayed by Theon Greyjoy and lost an enormous amount of his forces. There is zero possibility of him winning against the largest force in Westeros, no matter how hard he tries. Whether we side with Walder Frey or merely meet him on the battlefield, his entire family will be slaughtered regardless. We ought to give him this out,” I said, knowing deep down that it was the right thing to do. After all, what boy wouldn’t fight for the lives of his father and sisters? He’d not made it in time for Ned, now he just wanted to make it in time for Sansa.
“You’d like to do this out of honor? Is that it?” He questioned, trying to figure out my intentions. I shook my head again. It was hard to express exactly what I meant in this scenario.
“Honor is something to be cautious about. If I can avoid the murder of an entire family, I will. To me that’s more about morality than honor. The way I see it, we could end this war by doing that, but if we do, the North will never trust us again. Ending the war isn’t enough, we need to work on reuniting the seven kingdoms. I believe that if we make peace with Robb Stark, and perhaps help him rebuild Winterfell, it would be a step towards doing that,” I explained, watching his face for any kind of reaction.
Tywin contemplated, and I could tell that he wanted to see it the way that I did, but he was still unsure. I couldn’t blame him, for quite a lot of things could go wrong in this scenario. It was entirely possible that Robb Stark was so furious about his father’s death that he would never even consider making peace with us, and that thought did make me uneasy. What if sending Loras and Sansa cost the Lannisters a bargaining piece and me a family member?
“Perhaps he will agree, but I’m hesitant. To him, the Tyrells are enemies; you’re siding with a family that killed his father. I cannot imagine he’s particularly eager to make peace with us,” Tywin said, drinking some of his own wine. As he raised his cup, I noticed that the morning sun was shining on his ring. It looked beautiful.
“If Sansa is married to Loras, she could help convince Robb Stark to agree. She’s close with my entire family, and she trusts us. I suppose my grandmother and sister are the first people who’ve shown her an ounce of kindness in quite some time. It would be useful. Her testimony might be enough to make Robb Stark trust our intentions,” I pointed out, now even more glad that Tywin had agreed to let them marry.
“He may trust the intentions of House Tyrell, but he certainly will not trust mine. He’s not going to want to bend the knee to Joffrey even if you give him that choice.”
“Right now, I don’t think he gets to refuse. As I said, if his sister is home and his numbers are small, he ought to be wise and return home. When we send Loras and Sansa, perhaps… perhaps allow me to go with them. Loras is kind, and he’s not stupid, but I don’t feel that he’s anywhere near as convincing as I am, and there’s no room for mistakes. I can convince Robb Stark, especially with Sansa’s help. We need unity,” I said, exhaling strongly and reaching for my cup. Gods, this entire war was miserable. At the very least, this wine was quite good.
Tywin raised both eyebrows at me, huffing out and standing up. This suggestion had made him quite upset, it seemed.
“If I think there’s a possibility that Robb Stark would harm, kill, or take Loras captive, why in the gods' names would I let you go? I will not risk your life, (Y/N), let alone your safety. Let me be very clear about that,” he said vehemently, gazing down at me with complete seriousness. I rose from my chair as well, taking a deep breath.
I went around the desk, reaching out to him. He took my hands in his when I offered them, looking down at the sight. I kept my eyes on his face, however.
“I will be safe, Tywin, I promise. I wouldn’t do it, or even have suggested it, if I thought it might be dangerous for me,” I told him, squeezing both of his palms. He lifted his head, holding my gaze with the utmost concern and care. He shook his head.
“Well I think it’s dangerous. You’re not going, (Y/N). I won’t- I won’t lose you. I can’t,” he whispered, looking away. I let go of his hand and reached for his face instead, turning it back toward me.
“I’ll take Ser Elias with me, and Loras will have guards for him and Sansa. All will be well, Tywin. You won’t lose me, hm? I’ll help to restore a fragile peace to the seven kingdoms, minus Stannis, and then I will return home to you.” I brushed my thumb against Tywin’s cheek, and he leaned into my palm. His stubble scratched against me, and for some reason it made me want to cry.
“I hate feeling like I cannot protect you,” he mumbled, closing his eyes so he would not have to look at me.
“I can protect myself, Tywin. You know that. If not with my sword then certainly with my tongue.”
Both of the Great Lion’s hands suddenly came to my face, and there was a deep sadness in his eyes as he cupped my cheeks.
“I will tell Walder Frey to call off the wedding. I’ll inform him I have other plans in place,” he said, sighing out. I gave him a gentle smile, knowing that he did not want to feel anxious for my well being.
“Thank you, Tywin. You won’t regret it, I promise you that.”
He looked at me thoughtfully and nodded, releasing one of his hands from my face and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as he spoke. “I know I told you that I wished for you to fight alongside me should we ever face conflict again, but I don’t know how I’d do it. I’d fear for your safety the whole time.”
“Just as I would fear for yours, Tywin,” I whispered in reply, placing my own hand on top of his and keeping it against my cheek.
We stared at each other, and—in an odd passion—I felt just as I had at the inn: like I wanted to kiss him.
My cheeks flushed, and my breath quickened. Letting go of his hand, I looked away. I would never kiss Tywin, we were merely friends. It was simply a tender moment and his face was close to mine. That was all there was to it.
—————
“Ah, family. I’ve been looking for all of you. I suppose I should’ve checked here first.”
Margaery, Loras, and my grandmother were all in the garden attempting to distract themselves. My grandmother and sister were snacking on whatever the servants had brought, but Loras could not seem to touch it.
He’d been trying quite hard to come to terms with marrying Cersei; it had been difficult for all of us.
“(Y/N), come sit with us. Have you had breakfast yet? Ser Elias said you were up early today,” Margaery said, looking up from her plate and motioning to the chair beside my grandmother.
“No, not yet. I had something to attend to this morning, it’s why I’ve been looking for all of you. I have news,” I explained, sitting down at the table and instantly reaching over for some fruit, cheese, and bread. It was cold now, but I felt so victorious that it was no real loss.
“Oh? Go on then, spit it out,” my grandmother said, leaning back in her chair and taking a sip of wine. I might’ve told her it was early, but I supposed at her age it made little difference. Plus, I had been drinking too.
“I spoke with Tyw- Lord Tywin this morning. We had a rather lengthy conversation, and though he was quite stubborn about it, I managed to convince him against Loras’ betrothal to Cersei,” I informed them, watching Loras instantly look up with disbelief.
“Truly? You’re not joking?” He questioned, wondering if it was perhaps too good to be true.
“Yes, truly.”
He was smiling brighter than the sun now, and so was Margaery as she leaned toward Loras and placed a hand on his shoulder. My grandmother, however, was giving me a rather suspicious look.
“And how is it that you managed to convince him?” she inquired, folding her hands together in a somewhat menacing way. I raised an eyebrow. Why was she so wary?
“Well, it’s quite simple, really. A large focus of the conversation was that our alliance is quite stable, and I helped him come to the conclusion that—because of that stability—there’s no reason to marry Loras and Cersei. He’s better off marrying her to someone else,” I answered, shrugging because I found it to be rather straightforward.
“I see,” my grandmother said curtly, reaching for her cup as a natural way to end her sentence. I merely ignored it, knowing that she was prone to all sorts of moods and opinions. If she wanted me to know what she was thinking, I’d find out.
“But, it’s not only that... I have also convinced the Lord Hand to let your betrothal to Sansa Stark continue,” I revealed with a smile, watching my brother’s face light up once again.
“How on earth did he agree to that?” Loras asked, laughing a bit as he did. He appeared to be utterly giddy over knowing that things were all going to plan again. Margaery had turned to my grandmother, giving her an odd look.
“Well, he settled after I told him that, of whatever children you and Sansa have, one of them will marry a child of Tyrion Lannister. It’s all quite far in the future, but that is the current arrangement,” I said, to which he nodded with understanding. Hypotheticals were easy to accept, it seemed. I prayed that the deal would work out properly, because I did want to keep my word to Tywin.
“I see. Well, I thank you nonetheless, (Y/N). Gods’ know I’d much rather marry Sansa than Cersei,” Loras muttered, making my grandmother huff out a laugh. None of us preferred Cersei to Sansa Stark in any capacity.
“Of course. If you have to marry a woman, I’d rather it be a sweet girl like Sansa. Plus, she could certainly use a break from King’s Landing. And, speaking of which, I’m afraid there’s one other reason that Lord Tywin feels alright with this match…” I trailed off, watching all of my family members raise their eyebrows in some capacity.
“It seems… it seems that an opportunity to make peace with Robb Stark may have appeared, and your wedding to Sansa may be exactly what we need in order to do so. Once- Once the wedding is over, the idea would be for the two of you, along with me, to confront the Young Wolf. With some diplomatic convincing, I hope to end the war and help the Starks retake Winterfell,” I explained to them, anxiously awaiting their responses.
There was silence for a moment, and Margaery was still staring at our grandmother. Loras seemed to be processing the idea in his own head, but it was not his permission that I needed, especially because I knew he really wouldn’t mind it.
“And you’re certain it would be safe to confront Robb Stark that way? Just the three of you?” my grandmother questioned, finally looking over at me. I instantly nodded at her.
“It wouldn’t just be the three of us, Ser Elias and a few trusted guards would come as well, but the idea is to seem open. To bring a large group to his camp would cause conflict, whereas a small group would only cause questioning. I believe that Sansa has enough affection for Loras—and for the rest of our family—to help our cause. On top of Robb’s honor, Sansa’s wishes would likely protect us from any harm.” I popped a grape into my mouth, crushing it against the roof of my mouth with my tongue. I was partly hoping that if I relied on those two things enough, it would become reality.
In all honesty, I had no clue if I would be safe. I had promised Tywin—and was now telling my grandmother—that I would, but men were unpredictable. Some less than others, yes, but this was a risk. I could see on Loras’ face that he knew it too.
“And what if they don’t kill you but instead take you captive? They’d be taking two bargaining pieces and then we would have none,” my grandmother pointed out, scoffing at me and shaking her head.
“Do you think I don’t know that already? Grandmother, I’m well aware of the fact that this certainly could go wrong in quite a lot of ways, but it is a risk that I feel comfortable taking. Robb Stark, at this point, is really only fighting this war for his sisters. Why keep fighting when he has them back? My point is, I don’t think he’s got any reason to want to take Loras and I captive. But, if you’re still anxious about it, I’m willing to take Sansa by myself.”
Loras shot up from his chair, shaking his head at me.
“I’m not letting you go alone, (Y/N). Either I go with you or the whole thing’s called off,” he said, making my grandmother sigh out. She promptly spoke up about her opinion on the subject.
“Loras, you are the heir to Highgarden, I’m not going to have you go with your sister and-”
“So just because I’m the heir it means that somehow my safety is more important than (Y/N)’s? No, that’s ridiculous, Grandmother. I’m going with her.”
“I’m not saying that your safety is more important, I’m saying that you’re more at risk because the Stark’s will see your position as something valuable. I’d rather neither of you go at all, but if you must then I’d like to minimize the risk of it,” my grandmother explained, making Loras scoff and look away from her. I rose from my seat, going over to him and placing a hand on his shoulder.
“She’s not entirely wrong, Loras. It might… it might make more sense for me to go alone with Sansa,” I whispered, seeing on his face that he was still upset about it.
“No. How are the Starks supposed to trust us, or even trust my marriage to Sansa, if I’m not there with you? I have to be there, (Y/N),” Loras reasoned, turning to my grandmother with a sort of pleading look. It was really up to her more than anyone else.
There was silence for a moment as she contemplated it, but eventually she sighed and relented with a nod of her head. Loras let out the breath he’d been holding and then turned his gaze back to me.
“Thank you, (Y/N). Thank you for convincing Lord Tywin to alter the plans, it means quite a lot to me. I’m certain it’ll mean plenty to Sansa as well. I’ll go tell her right now,” my brother said, pulling me into his arms and giving me a genuine hug. I smiled, wrapping my arms around him and squeezing gently.
“Of course. Tell Sansa about the wedding plans, and mention the idea of making peace with Robb. Tell her that, ideally, the two of you would go with Robb to rebuild Winterfell, and then eventually return to Highgarden,” I told him, pulling away and tucking a few curls behind his ear. He nodded, kissing my cheek before turning and leaving the garden.
I watched him go, and when I eventually turned around, I found both Margaery and my grandmother staring directly at me. There was a somewhat quizzical look on their faces, and it made me anxious. Why in the seven hells were they thinking about?
“What?” I questioned warily, sitting back down in my chair.
“Grandmother and I are just… well, just a bit uncertain of how exactly you managed to change Lord Tywin’s mind so easily,” Margaery noted, blinking several times as she did. Both her and my grandmother almost looked… well, suspicious.
“Well, as I said, Lord Tywin and I had quite the conversation-”
“Yes, I heard. However, he and I had quite the conversation as well, and so I am attempting to figure out how—even after backing me into a corner—he listened to you,” my grandmother said accusingly. I watched Margaery attempt to cover her smile with a hand, much to my confusion.
“He respects me, grandmother. I believe I’ve earned it after spending so much time around him. Plus, I gave my solutions quite a lot of thought. Every question he asked I had a good answer for,” I reasoned, almost a little annoyed by the fact that they were in disbelief. Did they think I lacked the ability to be convincing?
The two women before me turned to look at each other, and both of them started to smile. I was utterly bewildered as to what was happening.
“I hope you will forgive me saying this, my dear, but I’m beginning to think Lord Tywin feels a lot more than just respect for you,” my grandmother continued, to which Margaery began to laugh. I sighed, finally understanding what they were insinuating and giggling about.
“Oh please, Grandmother. Lord Tywin and I are merely friends, that is all. And even that may be a stretch, he still makes me angry quite frequently. Your insinuations are not as realistic as you believe them to be,” I said, though partially lying. I reached for the cup Loras had left behind and took a sip of his wine. I had not even realized it was his cup for a moment, and I had been expecting water, but somehow found that the wine was reassuring all the same. Gods, I was having quite the morning.
“Yes, and that is why the two of you are always going out and disappearing overnight. Don’t think I’m unaware, (Y/N). Not only that, but for nearly a week now you’ve visited the Tower of the Hand at least once a day,” my grandmother pointed out, making me shake my head vehemently. Had she gone utterly insane?
“Please, think logically. I’ve hated Lord Tywin for 11 years now, what makes you think that all of a sudden there are romantic feelings between the two of us? If not enemies, the most that we’ll ever be is friends, I promise you that,” I said firmly, trying to get that idea through her head.
“I think sometimes it is easier to hate someone than to admit that you’re attracted to them. Though, I would like to note that I said nothing of romance, I am merely suggesting that the two of you are sleeping together. You are the one bringing romance into it,” she teased, giving me that grin which insinuated she’d won in this discussion. Heat came to my cheeks, and I sputtered out with shock.
“G-Grandmother! I- I can assure you that Lord Tywin and I are most certainly not doing anything even remotely close to that. I have no attraction to him, none whatsoever!”
“If you’re bedding Lord Tywin, (Y/N), there’s no need to shy away from it. You know neither your sister nor I would care. Well, we might judge your taste a little bit, but that’s all,” she said, laughing. Margaery joined her, and my entire face turned unbelievably hot. To me the thought was utterly unfathomable; I couldn’t understand why they were laughing about it.
“I assure you, I am not bedding Ty- Lord Tywin, and I don’t intend to. Ever,” I told them, trying to defend myself. They only laughed more.
“Of course, sister. That’s why your dresses become more revealing each day. I find myself wondering if you’re stealing from my closet. Not to mention, you seem to have a new affinity for patterns with red roses.” Margaery joined in on the assault, and I sighed out of utter exhaustion. This family would be the death of me.
“That’s complete nonsense. I’ll say it now, and I’m not going to repeat myself: the relationship I have with Lord Tywin is nothing but an alliance and friendship. He is older than Father, and only 6 years younger than you, Grandmother. To insinuate that I am bedding him is insane,” I reasoned, raising an eyebrow at the Queen of Thorns. She smiled and reached for my hand.
“I am aware, my dear, we discussed it yesterday. It’s nothing unusual, plenty of men marry and sleep with women much younger than themselves,” she said, leaning forward as she usually would while making a point.
“Well not Lord Tywin.”
“(Y/N), from what I’ve heard, the Lord Hand smiles quite easily around you. Tywin Lannister never smiles. The last person he was known to smile around was his late wife,” Margaery mentioned, giggling as she did.
“This was not the reaction I had hoped for when I revealed that I’d convinced Lord Tywin to reconsider Loras’ marriage,” I grumbled, rubbing my forehead with slight annoyance. I refused to even think about what they were saying, for it was not possible in any capacity.
“(Y/N), I’m not asking you to admit it, perhaps just consider it for yourself. You may not be bedding Lord Tywin, or engaged in any sort of romantic relationship with him, but you do have such feelings for him, don’t you?” my grandmother asked, smiling wickedly.
I scoffed at her then, confident that she was wrong. Later that night, however, I’d have to consider her words. I’d noticed small things, like butterflies in my stomach when Tywin and I touched, or heat in my face when he complimented me. I smiled at the set of armor sitting in my room every day, and at the Valyrian steel blades in my chest. And I had to admit, I was beginning to grow fond of the color red, for it reminded me of him.
But to me, that was all normal. Why shouldn’t a friend make me happy and make me feel cared for? Tywin and I simply got along well; we fit together. Yes, I had wanted to kiss him before, but that had been during very tender moments. It was not as if I was sitting around daydreaming about kissing him.
So surely that was not love, right? It couldn’t be. I supposed I’d never exactly considered myself to be in love with anyone before, so I had nothing to compare it to, but wouldn’t it be the sort of thing that was abundantly clear to me?
Well, it mattered very little. I could not feel love for Tywin Lannister, let alone romantic affection. To be with a man like that would most assuredly be the most painful thing I could possibly do to myself. He was a horrible person who had done horrible things, and because of that I had hated him for nearly half of my life.
Plus, he was only a few years younger than my grandmother, and he’d probably never even considered me romantically because of that. Right?
No. To love Tywin Lannister romantically was out of the question. I could crave the sight of his eyes and his smile, and I could crave the sound of his voice and his laugh, but I could not love him. It was not a thought that I intended to entertain.
I was afraid of what doing so might unleash in me.
TAGLIST:
@cheyxfu @lemonscoffee @groovy-lady
@ladysindar @vesta-ro @exo-nova @paola-carter
@prettykinkysoul
@fullmoonshadowwrites @kishie8
@the-desilittle-bird @dianilaws @girlonfireice
@muscari-fae @lostgirllulu
@abigfanofgameofthrones @smalltownbigheart
@frombloodandflesh @supernaturalismyreligion666
@thanyatargaryen @rey26 @hexandale @pkawaiidesu5394 @aimsro @gbatesx @lockleysgrl @alicefiresage @stargazingwatercolouredbeing @drwho-ess @mulletmcghee
#tywin lannister#tywin lannister x reader#charles dance#tywin lannister fanfic#cersei lannister#a lion in the garden
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“I’d lay you badly but I’d lay you gladly” (Roman Roy x fem!reader)
An: I’m gonna try. Let’s see how this goes. As an asexual (demisexual panromantic) I can feel it in my asexual bones that Roman is so part of the asexual club. Like he’s panromantic for sure he will date and flirt and be with anyone who makes him feel ~wiggly~ so to speak. I think he felt it with Gerri, and felt it with Tabitha. He feels like that pull toward them. And if given the chance he probs does want to bang. Like, he just never has that talk of ‘oh if I just stop thinking and let this person who I trust more then anything know what’s going on in my brain space then it works’ like our man is just. I love him because I am him.
I’m gonna tag @romeulusroy because I heard they were having a bad day and maybe soft roman can help
He liked looking at her when she didn’t know he was, he liked the feeling she gave him. A rush inside that he’s felt so few times in his life. Roman liked her smile, the way her lips split to show her teeth, the way her nose wrinkled when she didn’t like something. He liked her. Liked her? No he was pretty sure he loved her. Well what he assumed was love, he was pretty sure he’s only ever felt the emotion a handful of times.
Once when he was a kid and found a baby duck in the backyard pond of his mothers villa, it was so small and he helped it back into the pond where it’s family was. He remembers the feeling of warmth watching the mother goose bump it’s little tail back into place. He imagined every duck he saw after was somehow that one duck growing and visiting him.
He remembers the feeling when connor had popped him on the bathroom counter and bandaged up his scraped and bleeding knee. Connor was what he assumed his friends parents were like. He liked feeling cared for. Even if it was rare.
He likes listening to her ramble about her bullshit job of being a coffee runner most days, how she wishes she could punch Karl or frank or even his dad in the face when they forget her name, even though she’s worked under Gerri for at least 2 years.
He loves waking up next to her, always before her, something in him, maybe because of military school, maybe because he always wanted to be up before his siblings to hope that his dad would let him join him at the office, or to get the best pieces of bacon or toast for breakfast. Not anymore, now it was to be able to have the few moments of staring at her. Her softened face against the pillows, her worry stripped from her forehead. The moments when he could scratch her scalp lightly with his fingers and she would just sigh in her sleep.
He loved her. He would marry her if the fear of a marriage being the prison of unhappy people. From his parents to Tom and shiv and even Kendall. Though he would push all of it away if it meant a forever of seeing her like this.
He remembers the conversation that made him fall. Hard and fast and slamming him into the cold pavement.
“I’d lay you badly but I’d lay you gladly” it was a joke, she had laughed slightly looking down at her computer typing a report or email for Gerri or Karl or whoever was yanking her around this week.
“Roman we both know neither of us would enjoy that” it stung, she was right, but it stung.
“I mean I would rock your world for like a solid 3 seconds before you realise I have zero clue what’s going on” she had looked at him, cocking her head to the side, eye brow raised
“Roman. Can I ask you something.” He was caught off guard, his own walls coming up slightly, shrugging he looked around
“Yeah what’s up” he didn’t know why he couldn’t look at her suddenly but he just couldn’t.
“Do you know what asexuality is?” Asexuality? Obviously he did, biology and science was one class he knew he passed with more then a barley passing grade.
“Like fucking ameba and shit. They fuck themselves and bam! Another single celled whatever” she laughed, he turned to her then smiling a bit more
“I mean in the biology, organisms sense yeah, but like I mean in people,” Roman shrugged again shaking his head a little
“Some new fancy label the ‘woke’ mob has made to make people like my dad and Kendall rage for no reason?” She shook her head at that
“No Roman it means you don’t really like banging. Like, you could live with out it. So to speak, you could go your whole life never caring to want it. It wouldn’t change anything. And weird bathroom door Jack off sessions aside, it means your just not that into the whole sex thing” he felt his face flush at her mention of his brief weird relationship with Gerri. He simply looked at her
“I mean sex is…super cool….I love fucking, all night, we could do it right now, and it would be…explosive” he knew she could hear through his wavered tone
“Roman, do you know why I haven’t even pushed having sex?”
“I don’t know your weird and religious upbringing scared you for life with trauma?”
“Good guess but no…I’m asexual. Like, sex is just, a thing, I don’t care if we have it, or not, we could never and I would be 1000% okay with that. I don’t need you to bang me, how ever satisfying or not it would be, because I just, don’t need it.”
Roman stared at her then, his brain buzzing, heart slamming in his chest, he assumed like grace and Tabitha, one day you would clamber for him to attempt the unsuccessful routine of making out, hand stuff above his pants, a seemingly awkward game of red light green light before both of you gave up and you walked off to finish yourself in his bathroom.
“Roman, i haven’t brought it up, because if we never have sex ever, I wouldn’t care. It wouldn’t matter.”
He wanted to scream, and cry and hug her. He didn’t know why but he did. He simply stood up, walked over to her, yanked her up and kissed her. His hands holding her cheeks, hoping she understood what he meant in it.
When he pulled away she smiled at him nodding
“One day we may, who knows, but one thing is for sure. We’ll both lay each other badly”
“But gladly?”
“Yeah, but gladly”
#roman roy x reader#roman roy succession#Roman Roy#succession#kieran culkin#roman succession#succession HBO#Kendall Roy#Connor Roy#shiv Roy
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[TNG] Worf - All Along
♫ Thousand Years - Christina Perri
Klingon culture has long since been recognised as one of the most violent cultures to the outside. In every aspect, it seemed some form of shouting or fighting was at the heart of everything they did. To outsiders, perhaps it seemed that way. There was always a softer side to Klingons, however, one not many people saw in some.
On away missions, it was handy to have a Klingon with you, and Worf was the perfect one to go along. He was knowledgeable and cautious, and always willing to protect should danger occur. However, he could fight too, far better than anyone you had ever seen. His skill in battle and in leadership made for a great away team leader.
His leadership and skill was also the reason you started having feelings for him, and that made you very uncertain. You were a human, and he was a Klingon. Interspecies romance was not uncommon, particularly now in the universe where infinite diversity in infinite combination was at the heart of most of the galaxy. But, you weren't sure of how Worf would react. He hadn't shown any interest in anyone, let alone yourself, and it left you wondering just how awkward these feeling were about to make the rest of your engineering career.
"Lieutenant Y/N? Are you alright?" A voice snapped you out of your daydream in Ten Forward, your drink long since watered down as the ice had melted. It was your friend, Data, and you shook your head at him.
"Yes, of course, thank you Data. Please, have a seat."
"Are you sure? You do not seem it. You have been staring at Lieutenant Commander Worf for five minutes. I am sure he will start becoming uncomfortable soon."
Your put your head in your hands and sighed. You hadn't even noticed you were looking right at his table the entire time you were zoned out. Laughing to yourself, you sipped your watery drink.
"Ahh, I didn't even know, I guess I'm hung up on a few things, Data. I can trust you, can't I?"
"Absolutely." He nodded and seated himself, sitting curt as always, ready to listen.
"Somethings changed between Worf and I these past couple of weeks. We started off merely away team companions, and it was fine that way, but now I feel like I want to know him better, even court him, as it were. But, I wouldn't even know where to start with that. I mean, just last week, he was reciting a poem he wrote to me before we said goodnight after a shift."
"Perhaps you should try throwing a vase at him, Y/N."
Your eyebrows shot up, utter confusion on your face.
"I.. I- huh?"
"Allow me to explain. When Lieutenant Commander Worf was reciting his poetry to you, he was expressing an interest in courting you. When Klingons find someone of which they would like to court or marry, one recites poetry whilst the other expresses interest in a violent manner, such as scratching, fighting or throwing things at them. This way, the intentions are clear for both parties."
You stared at Data, dumbfounded. "That is in no way, shape or form, clear. But, that is interesting to know, thank you."
Data stood, nodding. "Should you need me, I will be in the science bay. Good luck with that, Y/N."
As he left, you were left with much to ponder, and your eyes drifted over to where Worf was sat, and as you did so, his eyes met yours too. You smiled and nodded, and he nodded all the same. You noticed him leaving, and quickly jumped up to do the same.
"Hello, Worf, uh.. would you care to meet me tonight in my quarters? I have some music I wish to show you, I think you would be interested. It's okay if not, I-"
"I will be there, your company sounds desirable. Until then, Lieutenant." And with that, he hastily made his way back to work.
The night rolled round and you were in your quarters, pacing. Nerves weren't your sort of vibe, and being a Starfleet officer meant they were pushed back on the job. But tonight, you were making up for all of that by experiencing every bit of nerves you could at the exact same time. The door chimed and your heart jumped, but you opened the door nonetheless.
"Good evening, Worf, thank you for coming." Your voice was shaky, the uncertainty jumping right out. Worf wasn't fazed, and strolled in, awaiting the music.
"Good evening, Y/N, thank you for inviting me for the music display, I am looking forward to it."
A solitary voice in your head comes out. 'Ahh, fuck it.'
As Worf turns to find a seat, you pick up the vase closest to you, one that stood on your tableside, and launched it in his direction, and it smashed right by his feet. As the security officer turned, you jumped at him and started to fight him. Worf swiftly changed the playing field and switched you around, and you dodged his attacks with surprising ease. The fight grew more tense as the two of you made it to your feet, his batleth out and you defending with a stick. Nimble and small, you manage to swoop round and trick him every now and then, and when he thought he had you, your legs took his out and you knelt down over him, sitting on his stomach almost, with your phaser at his neck.
"Y/N... that was incredible." Worf was slightly out of breath, but did still sound impressed.
"Likewise, I hope Data was right about this," you started to look nervous, as you helped Worf up from the ground, a hand he graciously accepted.
"Right about the vase?"
"Yeah, he-" you stopped. He knew? "How do you know about the vase?"
"I told him to tell you about a vase. I had a feeling you were interested in me, as you humans might say, and so I knew that if you were, you would go to him for advice because you are very good friends. The vase was rather specific, so I realised the moment you threw that at me tonight you had an interest in me."
"That was a very intelligent move, Worf. How did you know?" you inquired, puzzle on your face. You couldn't believe this was happening, no more than you could believe that Data had been playing cupid and wingman for Worf.
"I can sense it, Y/N. You look at me differently, and when you are around me, you act different, too. It is not hard to tell."
You raised an eyebrow. "Am I that obious?"
Worf sighed. "No, Councellor Troi told me."
You laughed aloud, shaking your head. "And here I was, thinking you knew all along."
"I knew I was interested in you," he started, taking your hand and sitting you down with him on your chair. "But I did not think you would be interested in me."
"Why wouldn't I be? You're sure of yourself, strong, and you're great company. Gathering feelings for you was easy, dealing with them was the hard part, and the outcome has been the best."
You shot Worf a a smile, and he gave you one back, to the best of Klingon ability. He brought your hand to his head, pressing his lips against your hand.
"Will you have me, Y/N?"
"I've wanted you all along."
#star trek#star trek x reader#star trek imagine#worf#worf x reader#worf imagine#star trek tng#tng#the next generation#x reader#imagine
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helloooo :)
i was wondering if u could write somthing about anderson disrespecting reader when they join cases with sherlock, but always behind their backs
but then sherlock hears and he starts (trying) to beat him up, and anderson puts up a good fight, however sherlock still wins
he goes home to 221B and reader is shocked asking who hurt him and what he did, but he doesn’t give away anything, and simply tell them not to worry about it. whilst reader is patching up his wounds, john comes back and starts saying how cool, dangerous and reckless beating up anderson for reader was and they’re just flustered and shocked, saying thank you to sherlock (maybe a first kiss scene?)
reader also gives anderson a piece of their mind - not because he disrespected them, because he beat up sherlock :)
tysm and ur work is amazing!!!!
Detective's doll
Bbc Sherlock x reader
Word count:- 840
A/n:- listen guys, just one or two fic will come this month, once October is here I'll be doing Halloween fics! I've shared some prompts do check! Fandoms you know, otherwise check my masterlist.
"you think I can help you with this case?" I enquired to Sherlock not believing he asked my help suddenly for a case. I've been fond of him since I moved in. He can seem cold, unfriendly, some people may describe him as arrogant as well. I was no exception, however living with him taught he's actually pretty lonely. Especially since john watson was married. Sometimes when he's working or sitting with his microscope he looks as pure as a child who just needs a hug. I do want to hug him tight sometimes but he's not very fond of touches innit? So I never dared.
"that's why I asked you, look this case includes information about victorian literature and by seeing your side of the bookshelf " he said pointing to our bookshelf, his side was filled with books about chemistry, science, anatomy and mine was filled with victorian classic novels, mostly, "I think you can help us with this".
"okay then" I must admit I was over the moon. A real life adventure was calling me, how could I not be thrilled.
In evening we went to Scotland yard, I felt excited about being able to help these men. Especially Sherlock, he introduced me to lestrade and informed him that I'll be joining their quest. His agreement confirmed my involvement before I went with him to his office to get some information about the case, I thought Sherlock was following me however I turned around to find out he was going to a different direction, he was walking towards Andersen. Perhaps he had business with him, but one question still lingered, he doesn't quite like Andersen that much.
When I came back with a folder in my hand which contained some information put inside, not in an organised way, I looked around for Sherlock, it seemed like he was gone, and for some reason people or I must say other officers there stared at me. I wondered why, maybe because I don't usually visit their office. Though their furrowed brows told some different story.
After I got to Baker Street I found the flat's door already open,
"Sherlock?" I called, to make sure it was him who opened the door, and not some break in, "is it you in there?" I walked in showing some bravery, trying to make least noise possible to find Sherlock struggling with the first aid box.
"gosh" I went closer to him and I gasped as I found out he had a cut along his cheek bone, and some more wounds accompanying "what the... what happened?"
"nothing" replied the detective, still trying to get the box open. I noticed his knuckles were hurt too as they were all red, it was the reason for his struggle with the first aid box. They were hurting him as he tried to open it.
"fine don't tell me" the only thing I couldn't bring myself to like about him was his habit of keeping things hidden, "do me a favour and sit" I wonder if my eyes reflected all the concern I felt for him. It may have, for he stared at me for a few seconds then obeyed without any objection. I took some medicine in cotton to apply over his cut.
"ow" he pulled away as the medicine on the wound felt like burn.
"I know it might hurt but please.." as I said and he nodded in agreement, it appeared to how much I fancied this moment, me taking care of him, even though he was hurt, and that was the part I disliked. I continued to do my job until John Watson came bursting in,
"oh gosh you're here, you did amazing" he seemed overjoyed and I bet I could see all his 32 teeth the way he smiled.
"let's not talk about it" said Sherlock softly. My confusion rose at this point, does john know what happened?
"no wait" I forbid him to interfere, "what happened john?"
"wait you don't know?" he asked in a way as if I'm the one who should be knowing this before others, although he was well aware how secretive his friend can be.
"how's mary? Is pregnancy bothering her?" Sherlock interrupted again, with his terrible skill of small talk.
"shhh" I hushed him "speak up John".
"Sherlock beat up Andersen" He spoke finally.
"he did what?"
"yes, because..."
"you said enough" Sherlock forbid him again.
"no he hasn't" I said, "because?" I turned to John.
"because Andersen said shit about you" John's words left his mouth and hit me, one because Andersen said something bad about me? but I never were mean to him even for once, why would he do that? and two, Sherlock beat him for that? For me?
"it wasn't just.." Sherlock started to say something, he was lacking excuses so he stuttered until I spoke,
"really?"
"yes, Andersen is beaten up terribly by him" replied john, "and you shouldn't bother about what he said".
That only meant it was very mean, "I'd still like to know"
"dumb doll of the detective" said Sherlock, "that's what he told you, you're dumb, a doll who's is controlled by me"
I gasped at this not knowing what to say.
"an opportunist" followed by a few seconds of quietness, "he said more but..."
It felt terrible, no wonder other words were far more worse that Sherlock couldn't bring himself to speak.
"anyway" John said breaking the silence. "I better go home, Mary might need me."
Waving us he went and left us wondering about the situation. I turned to Sherlock as I was yet to understand all those cuts and wounds he endured, were all to protect my image? To protect me from words? He knew then how sensitive I am under the cover of a strong person, "you fought him for me?"
He nodded in response, followed by the heavy exhale.
"and why?"
"because you don't deserve disrespect, and obviously not from someone like Andersen." he replied.
I don't know why but that moment I didn't care if he likes being touched or not instead I wrapped my arms around his neck and placed my chin on his head, sniffing his hair and realising his shampoo has a decent smell, no wonder his curls were like a soft pillow. It forced me to lean my cheek too with a smile that appeared on my lips, "you didn't have to, but thanks"
"no problem" he said taking my hand, and caressing it, as if it was an assurance, a promise that my palm was safe in his hand.
Next day Sherlock, john and I went to Scotland yard where I found the sight of beaten up Andersen, oh how... terrible honestly. I felt bad how wounded he was but atleast he'll think twice before disrespecting me, or anyone. Sherlock made sure of that.
"you guys go inside, I'll be with you in a minute" I said walking to Andersen, although Sherlock pulled me a little by my wrist to say,
"listen" Sherlock said, "don't put up a fight I did it already"
"I won't" we exchanged smiles and I went to catch Andersen,
"Andersen!" I called.
He looked horrified yet fuming at me he said, "you? what do you want?"
With some strength in my voice I stated, as politely as possible yet stern, "next time if want to say something, make sure it's on my face, but if you dare again, my detective will kill you, I'm his doll afterall, he won't let you play with me like that" then I went a little closer and replied in a hushed voice, "I'm his to love, his to keep, his to adore." This may haven't scared him but infuriated him even more, so I stepped backwards with a smile, now that my threat did it's job and walked away, just one more time I turned around to wave him, a mocking wave to be more clear, "see ya".
#bbc sherlock#sherlock x reader#sherlock x y/n#sherlock holmes x reader#sherlock x you#i am sherlocked
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Guys guys guys guys what if I write a JonDami star trek au fanfic where Damian is a Vulcan and I explain what that means for all you non-trekkies in the story.
Soul bond, t'hy'la, touch telepathy, mind melding, emotional repression down to an exact science, bowl cut Damian, hand kisses. Damian responds to his fascination with Jon by studying him like an observational science project. Jon's like "he's stalking me, he totally wants to be my friend! I'm going to go up to him!" And Damian tries to run away because it will interfere with his data if he interacts with the subject but sorry Damian, kryptonians are faster than Vulcans and can see you through bulkheads.
Omg what if Jon's like "he doesn't like hugs so I'll start smaller with hand holding"
and Damian is like "why are you making out with me?!"
Jon is like "wdym my lips aren't touching you."
"You kiss with your lips, yet you eat and talk with them as well. How curious!"
"So if we're kissing right now why aren't you pulling away? Do you li~ke me?"
"Tt," He pulls his hand away blushing green "in your dreams."
"Sounds like my dreams must be pretty mundane in that case~" Jon says, leaning in.
"It is only fair I return the opportunity to experience new stimulus." Damian pecks him on the lips. "That is so weird..." He says, standing and walking away.
Jon puts his fingers to his lips, blushing. "W-wait up!" Jon says, running after him.
Some lore: Talia chose Bruce to challenge her betrothed and he won and they weren't even dating yet but now they're married.
Jon is the son of a human and a kryptonian but his parents met when his mom was doing a story on Kal-el's crew instead of Clark being the last son of krypton.
They're both kids on a constitution class ship that their fathers are captain and first officer on. Lois is often with them but does leave from time to time to cover interplanetary news.
This is so niche!
#fanfic talk#just an idea :)#damian wayne#damian al ghul wayne#jonathan samuel kent#jondami#jon kent#supersons#super sons#minific#i guess#star trek#dc comics#y'know dc used to make trek comics!#damian pulls a sarek
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Professor?
Jake Lockley x Reader
Warnings/Tags: 18+, Smut, Language
Summary: Office hours were for questions, and going over materials. Maybe too many questions can lead to an assignment not in the syllabus.
Word Count: 2K
Navigation || Masterlist
“Does anyone have any more questions?” The room was silent. Everyone stared blankly at the professor in front of them.
“Then I guess we are done for today.” Before he could finish the sentence, students (Including yourself) began to pack up and leave. “Don’t forget about chapters 20 and 23. Read them. I won’t forget.”
The professor wasn’t an old man, he certainly didn’t look like it. You always thought he reminded you of Indiana Jones. Of course the only reason you took the class was one: You needed the Social Science credit, and two: he was extremely handsome.
As you slowly approached his desk, you could see he was typing out notes on his laptop.
“Of course, you’re still here” He doesn’t even look up from the computer. “Let me guess, you need to ask a question? Go over the reading?”
“I just wanted to discuss a part of the lesson, Dr. Spector” You reply, it wasn’t a lie, but you always just wanted to talk to him too.
“You know how rare it is that I see students so interested in this topic?” He finally looked up, resting his chin on his hands. “It shows you have talent for the subject. And your work is not bad either. I see the way you take notes, it’s good.”
He sighs loudly, and you smile at him sweetly. It wasn’t the best compliment but it wasn’t a bad one either.
“Do you have any questions, y/n?” He pulls you from your thoughts.
“Are you married?” You bite your lip after realizing what you had just said. He stares at you for a brief moment.
“That’s… an extremely personal question.” He quips “No. I’m not married, or in a relationship, or anything of the sorts.”
You both stand there speechless. He crosses his arms and you play with the hem of your skirt. You cannot believe you just asked a professor this question.
“Why? What makes you think it’s okay to ask someone like me that?” He asks.
“I guess I was just curious?” You quickly reply.
“Ah.. just curious?” He scoffs. “Of course.”
“What?” Was this guy serious right now?
“Oh nothing. It’s just funny. Smart and funny, huh? Your boyfriend must be thrilled.” He chuckles, and then the room goes silent again.
You don’t know why you don’t just leave after that. Obviously this was a horrible interaction, but you feel compelled to stay. Not that the conversation is benefiting anyone or anything other than your tiny crush.
“So let me ask you this, when I’m teaching this material and everyone is staring blankly at the wall, or taking notes.. What are you paying attention to?” He smirks. He knows the real answer.
“I- I don’t know” You stammer. Playing dumb. Nice. Like he couldn’t read you a mile away.
“Oh, of course… You don’t know.” He tuts you for a moment. “Why do you look so flustered? It was just a question. I know you’re smart enough to answer.”
“I was paying attention to you…” You finally reply, there’s no use to trying to run away now. He makes his way around the desk, and you notice the smell of his cologne immediately.
It was rich and dark. You notice the scruff on his chin, just light scruff though. He leans in close to you and begins to whisper.
“What about you? Your boyfriend must not notice anything right?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend.” You reply
“Really?” You shake your head in response.
“I find that very hard to believe. You seem like the type to be married by now. Professionally speaking, of course”
You notice he is staring at you as he takes a step back. The rose tint that is creeping up your neck makes him chuckle.
“Cat got your tongue, professor?” You speak suddenly and he smiles.
“Of course not, I was just thinking… about this interaction.” He replies. “I think you’re very stunning… and I think you can return these… feelings.”
“Then what is this?” You ask and swallow hard.
He stalks closer again.
“Well… My office hours are starting, and nobody is here…” He takes a deep breath inhaling your scent.
“And can anybody see.. Through that window?” You question once more.
“No… no. Nobody can see through that window.” He says as you close the gap between the both of you.
His lips were soft against yours, but his fingers that were sliding down your waist were tense. Neither of you anticipated doing any of this today. Maybe once you had passed the class? But that thought was pushed to the back of your mind.
The kisses were demanding, as the both of you moaned against each other. Once you pulled away, you both sat for a moment to catch your breath.
“I can’t stop myself from kissing you, y/n” He huffed. He pulls away for a moment to gather his laptop and bag, and you notice his eyes grew darker.
“Follow me.” He states as he begins to walk to his office. You follow closely behind him looking around to notice that the hallways were completely empty. Once you both stepped inside, he instructed you to close the door and lock it.
Once you turn around, you notice his jacket has come off and his sleeves were rolled up. You stare at his bicep getting lost in the thought of those being wrapped around your waist.
“Take it off.” His gruff voice catches you off guard. “Come, amore, take it off for me”
The slight accent was new but not enough for you to question if he had always had one. You begin to strip your shirt, taking each button off, one by one. Hearing his moans as he watched you completely strip yourself really set you off. You see him sit in his chair as he continues to watch you.
“Fuck” He says quietly. “Come here and sit down in my lap, princesa”
You obey and step closer to him. Facing him, you straddle his lap as he guides your chin closely to kiss you. The way he kisses and moans into your mouth turns you on instantly. You feel the wetness in your panties beginning to spread as he grips your back and brings you closer.
He quickly pushes you away, making you come off his lap.
“Bend over the desk. I have to taste you, right now.” He demands, you nod and lean yourself over the desk.
Grabbing your hips harshly, he slowly grinds against you almost to tease how hard he had become in such a short time. You hardly notice when he kneels down and rips your panties off. Not that you would need them much longer.
Feeling the hot breath against your core, you whine from the lack of contact. However you do hear the quiet praises you are receiving.
“Fuck, you’re so wet for me. Your pussy is dripping.” He says. “You want my tongue on your clit, princesa?”
You whine loudly in response.
“Yeah? Say please, amore” He tuts. “Come on, I know you know how to say please.”
“Please, sir. Please”
“Fuck, I’m gonna make you cum so hard. All. over. my. desk.” He groans, as he begins to kiss your thighs. Making his way all the way up, teasing you with each kiss.
The sensation made you shake, never in your life had you experienced something like this. The praises you’re receiving and the pet names. Waves came crashing through you mid thought when you felt his hot tongue slide along your clit.
You moan loudly as he continues to suck and lick your soaking pussy. Hearing his moans continuously makes you more wet.
As you are about to cum, he pulls away. You whine at the loss of contact and warmth. He stands up behind you and grabs your ass suddenly. You moan as he spanks it, the loud smack of his hand against your skin is deafening.
“Such a good girl for me, huh?” Another smack. “Fuck. Arch your back, princesa.”
Of course you do as you're told. Presenting yourself for your professor like you have daydreamed about. You hear his belt come undone and the sound of him taking out his cock. Glancing back, you see how massive he is. He notices you swallowing hard, and he scoffs.
“You want my cock in your pussy, amore?” He asks, rubbing it slowly. “Let me give you a little tease, huh?”
Without warning, he places his cock between your thighs and slowly rubs it against your clit. You both moan loudly at the sensation.
“Say please.” He groans. “Beg princessa, Beg for my cock.”
“Please, I need you in my pussy. Pleaaase.” You moan
“Good girl, My good pretty girl.” He draws out. “Reach your hand down, amore, reach your hand down and push my cock into you.”
Taking your hand, you reach between your thighs and graze your fingers against his member before pushing his head into you. He moans and throws his head back as he slowly begins to push into you. The groans and sharp inhales make you push against him as he bottoms out.
“Aye dios mio, amore, te sientes muy bien.” He groans and he begins to pump himself in and out of you. “Fuck, So tight.”
He begins to speed up and you can feel your legs shaking against the desk. You focus on gripping the table as you continue to arch your back. His pace was brutal but it felt so good. Noticing the way his cock pulses inside of you, you remember the lack of protection there was between the both of you.
You moan loudly at that thought when he suddenly stops.
“Flip over.” He demands. “Flip over and sit up a little. I wanna watch you.”
Again, you obey his orders, and turn yourself around. You wrap your arms around his neck and slowly lean in to kiss him. He moans against your lips as he begins to fuck you again. As he moves against you, you push back and your pussy clenches earning a grown from the man.
You can feel him start to stutter as his orgasm approaches. The exhales from his lungs were forceful with pleasure. Your swollen clit was beginning to overstimulate from the pressure being pushed against it.
“Professor Spector, I can’t take it much longer.” You groan and he growls.
“Oh amore, I’m about to come. I’m about to come inside you.” He continues to push into you. “Want that? Want my cum inside you?”
“Ah, Ah, Yes, Come inside me.” Your eyes are half lidded, and it’s getting harder to keep them open. Suddenly his hand grabs your cheeks and squeezes.
“Look at me while you come. Look at me, now” You open your eyes and see his face for the first time. He has such beautiful hard features. Seeing his eyebrows furrow and focus on you gives you your release. In an instant the both of you are coming.
You both sit there a moment to catch your breath. When you both realize the seriousness of what just happened, you laugh.
“Look at that amore, my cock is still so deep inside.” You moan as he pushes a little before taking out his cock. “Oh, all that cum going to waste. Let me help with that.”
His long fingers scoop the cum dripping onto the desk and pushes it right back into your pulsing pussy. You moan loudly as you hear the obscene squelching of his fingers inside you.
“You like that? Being full of my cum? My thick fingers pushing it back in where it belongs?” He moans, and pumps his fingers in and out, bending to find your gspot. His thumb rubbing against your clit, as an orgasim begins to build up again.
Your loud moans could probably be heard throughout the halls. Not that anyone was listening. The pit in your stomach was slowly filling with pleasure once again, and it wasn’t long before you began to pulse and squirt cum onto his hand.
“That’s right princesa, let it all out. Don’t be shy.” He praises as you catch your breath.
“Professor?” You question.
“Hm?”
“Can I get extra credit on this assignment?” You smirk. And his face goes blank.
“How about we clean you up, and then we can talk about some extra credit.”
#moon knight x reader#moon knight fanfic#jake lockely imagine#jake lockely x reader#jake lockely smut#jake lockely x you#jake lockley#marc spector x you#marc spector imagine#steven grant#marc spector#moonknight imagine#marvel#professor au
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