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katiexpunk · 5 months

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Sex On Fire, Part 1 | Pairing Firefighter!Joel Miller X Fem!Reader

Series Summary: You're a country girl in the big city, thanks to your generous aunt. You expected to have adventures your first year in New York, but what you didn't expect was for your hot, firefighter neighbor, Joel, to be part of them. Part 1 Summary: You move to New York, after a little coaxing from your aunt. You meet your new neighbor, Joel, and quickly learn he's a Captain with the NYFD and good with his hands. Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Word Count: ~6.7K Warnings: Sexual tension, sexual tension, sexual tension. This one is dripping in it. No age gap specified. No explicit smut (yet, there's uh...gonna be a lot in part 2), but a nice lead up to it in the end that will probably blue ball you. Groping. Alcohol. Hardcore flirting. Fleetwood Mac, The Rolling Stones, and Kings of Leon song references. Uniform kink. Joel has a hard on for seeing reader in his shirt. Reader's mom has passed. Texas/small town vibes. New York City. There are no specific descriptors for reader, except that she has hair. Ya'll, these two are just down for each other so fucking bad it's not even funny. Authors Note: This one is for my darling moot @darkheartgatita. Pia, thanks for putting Firefighter!Joel into my brain. I hope you enjoy. As always, thank you to my Slutty, Smutty, Sister @sydneyinacoma who inspires me every day and shares her filthy thoughts on the reg. And to everyone who gives my little blog love -- I fucking love you all so much. Part 2, Fall and Winter, will drop next Saturday.

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S P R I N G Spring blooms, bringing with it a new beginning for you. Of all the places you’d thought you would be, New York was not one of them.

Life back in Texas wasn't terrible, a bit dull sometimes, but not awful.

Yet, in the mundane moments, your mind often drifted to daydreams – visions of swapping your Levi's for a sleek black dress and trading quiet farmland for the lively hum of city bars. You’d think of Samantha from Sex and the City sitting on your porch at sunset, drinking Bud Light, wishing your fairy godmother would appear and magically turn it into a dry Martini.

That was until three weeks ago, when your rich aunt, visiting from New York, decided to sprinkle a bit of magic into your life.

“I’m gonna move to Italy for a while,” she casually said over family dinner as if she was just announcing that she was going to the store for milk. You should have been surprised, but she’s always been the kind to never stick around for too long. Single and child-free, she’s spent her adult life dancing to her free-spirited rhythm, bouncing around from one place to the next. Not because she had to, but because she could. You, on the other hand, were the total opposite. After your mom passed away, leaving the cocoon of the familiar felt like too much. Despite your aunt's protests and encouragement to just go, you resisted, not wanting to leave behind your dad and the comfortable life you'd known. But if there's one thing you've learned about your aunt, it's that she's relentless – and yanking you out of your comfort zone was precisely what she wanted, and she had just the plan to do it.

She handed you the keys to her Lower East Side apartment, turning your once silly little daydreams into a reality. “Sweetie, you need this – you’re meant for so much more, your dad will be fine. Please go,” she encouraged.

Despite your initial reluctance, you caved, and before you knew it, you were on a plane bound for JFK.

++++ You feel like a small fish in a big pond as you navigate the city. Trying to figure out the subway turns into a whole saga of you getting lost more than once. You eventually find the right borough, but not without a fair share of unhelpful people brushing you off along the way. Yep, you're definitely not in Texas anymore.

While walking through the city, it hits you that a new pair of shoes is in order; something made clear to you by the little blister on the back of your heel that’s screaming at you. Despite the annoyance, you’re enjoying the walk to the apartment, your new home. The city's buzzing with life, and even the faint smell of urine in the air doesn't bother you. It's a wild, trippy feeling to be in the city, to feel like the main character of your own story.

You grab your phone, itching to double-check the building your aunt texted and ensure you have the right address. Remembering her advice about the unassuming exterior but spectacular view, you get ready for the big reveal. The key affixed to a keychain with a little apple on it meets the lock, and as you turn it, the door swings open, revealing a spacious wooden staircase.

As you step inside, you notice there's a bit of mail scattered on the slightly dusty floor. You collect the envelopes and magazines with your aunt's name on them and neatly stack the other pieces for Joel Miller into a pile on the bottom step.

After climbing the – Jesus, really fucking narrow – stairs, you're faced with doors opposite each other. While a brief doubt nudges you to recheck the apartment number, your gut tells you that the door with the welcome mat showing lemons and a pot of fake flowers is the one — a stark difference from its neighbor with a simple grey mat and no decor. Trusting your instincts, you decide that the lively entrance is the one.

As you step inside, you're greeted by a cozy space that, despite its age, radiates warmth and character. The walls are adorned with paintings that seem to tell stories of bygone eras, while rays of sunlight filter through the window, revealing glimpses of the bustling cityscape below.

Though small, the apartment is meticulously decorated, each corner telling a tale of adventures and cultural escapades. Remnants of your aunt’s travels, collected with care, add a touch of global flair to the modest space. Posters from Broadway plays hang proudly on the walls, as do family pictures. It’s lived-in; the kind of lived-in that feels comfy and embraces you like a warm hug.

You look at the frames on the wall and pause when you see one of your favorites – a photo of you as a little girl, smushed between your mom and your aunt, a cake three sizes bigger than your tiny head lit up with birthday candles in front of you. You can't help but trace the edges of the frame with your fingertips, connecting with the warmth radiating from your mother's beaming smile. Miss you, mom escapes your lips as your eyes linger on the photograph for a heartbeat longer before the rest of the room demands your attention.

In the compact kitchen, a handwritten note from your aunt beckons, strategically placed beside a bottle of wine on top of a stack of takeout menus. Her words resonate with warmth and encouragement. "Welcome to your new home! I am so proud of you for taking me up on my offer. Disregard the bedroom chaos—I started painting the walls but didn't quite finish before taking off. Feel free to pick up where I left off if the mood strikes. And if you ever need a hand with anything, Joel Miller across the way is a nice guy. I've already told him that you’ll be staying for a while, or who knows, maybe forever. Love you!" The paper carries the unmistakable fragrance of her perfume, and a smile graces your face after you finish reading it.

Setting the heartfelt note aside, your attention shifts to the menu for Sang Garden, a vibrant pink post-it exclaiming, "Right down the street! Super yummy!" Hunger gnaws at your stomach; the last meal was a distant memory from this morning, and you're ravenous. Without hesitation, you dial the number on the menu, your choice a steadfast favorite: orange chicken. “10 minutes,” the older lady on the phone tells you, not bothering to say goodbye before hanging up. Huh, efficient, you think.

As the aroma of anticipation fills the air, you finish unpacking your suitcase and weave through your new space until your food is ready. Only having to go down a flight of stairs and less than a block down the street to pick it up is a new feeling for you. If you wanted something like this at home you’d have to drive at least 20 minutes to pick it up.

You finish the entirety of the meal within minutes curled up on the couch, Sex and the City on the T.V.. Your aunt was right, it’s good. Probably the best orange chicken you’ve ever had in your entire life; just the right amount of zest and sweetness. You can already tell you’ll be a regular. Everyone always talks about the pizza in New York, but nobody bothered to tell you about the Chinese. You can tell you’ll probably have a lot of moments like that, discovering new things for yourself instead of hearing about it from magazines or seeing the photos on Instagram.

With your belly now full of the sticky goodness, you settle into bed for the night. You stare at the ceiling, paying no mind to the smile that’s been plastered on your face for the past three hours. You feel giddy, like a little girl seeing the stars for the first time. You’re doing it. You’re really doing it.

The city is still thrumming to life, but the distant sound of sirens and honks eventually turns to white noise as you drift off to sleep.

++++

The next morning, you rise with purpose; new life breathed into you. You brew a cup of coffee and decide to savor it on the fire escape, enjoying the not-yet-thick spring, and still slightly chilly, spring air. As the city stirs awake beneath you, you’re determined to craft an agenda for the day. With another few days to spare before your new job starts, your thoughts drift to the bedroom, where the abandoned paint cans await.

It's been a while since you've had the chance to dive into something genuinely productive, or creative for that matter, and you decide that this is the perfect opportunity. Your aunt chose a deep, rich shade of green, one that harmonizes seamlessly with the space; not too dark, but not puke or pea green, either. It’s pretty. She always has had good taste.

And while you like the color, it’s not particularly one you’d like to see splattered all over your clothing, having only brought what you could fit into a small suitcase. Your aunt must have something, you think. The woman has more clothes than a department store and there is no way she could have brought them all to Italy, although you don’t put it past her to try.

You make your way to the guest bedroom and rummage through the dresser located there. The top drawer is full of nothing but scrapbooks, the middle drawer has only sweaters, but luck strikes in the bottom drawer, where you locate a handful of old shirts.

You pull out a dark blue, oversized “New York Fire Department” cotton t-shirt; the front of it has an emblem, and the back says “Rescue 1 FDNY” in faded blocky white letters, obviously well-loved. This will do, you tell yourself, quickly exchanging your tiny crop top for the large shirt. It hangs over your body, the bottom nearly hitting your knees. Why your aunt has such a large shirt in her collection you’ll never know, but you wager it’s probably from one of her many “friends” over the years.

++++

The sounds of Fleetwood Mac's "Rumours" fill the room, you stand in the center of the bedroom, paintbrush in hand, ready to transform the space. The nostalgic chords of Stevie Nicks' voice in Dreams infuse the air, blending with the scent of fresh paint as you dip the brush into the can, and begin. “Like a heartbeat drives you mad,” you sing, slightly off-key, but no one is around to listen and you don’t mind. “Thunder only happens when it’s rainingggggg,” you belt, using the paintbrush as a microphone.

While most of the paint makes it on the walls, you have to admit that painting isn’t your strong suit and a fair amount of it has splashed back onto your face, shirt, and even your hair. You’re having fun, more fun than you’ve had in a while, even if you make a mess while doing it. Not like you’re gonna see anyone today anyway.

“Players only love you when they’re plaaaaaying…” doing your best Stevie twirl.

More and more green covers the walls, but as you’re about to get started on the final white wall, you’re interrupted by a loud steady stream of knocks at your door.

You hit pause on the music, and make your way to the door, unsure of who would possibly be knocking. You peer through the peephole to take a look, but you can only see the back of a man in a simple white shirt, his back turned to face away from the door. You undo the chain lock and swing the door open.

As the man pivots to meet your gaze, his presence sweeps over you, an unexpected force that leaves you momentarily disarmed. He’s handsome in a way that unmoors you; a mass of a man with broad shoulders, sun-kissed skin, and sculpted biceps that redefine your sense of composure. Whoa.

“Hi,” you murmur, your eyes conveying a blend of softness and curiosity, "Can I help you?"

The man looks at you, and you feel yourself heat under the attention of his gaze. His eyes gently caress your frame; lingering a little too long on the emblem sewn into the fabric, just above your breast.

"Uh," he clears his throat, his hand rising to his face, fingers subtly grazing the beard hair on his cheek, as if grappling for words. "Yeah, well – no, uh," he stumbles, the words caught in a momentary struggle. "Hi, ‘m Joel Miller, I live across the way," he greets, angling his body to signal to the door directly across the foyer. “Oh right, my aunt told me about you you,” you say, introducing yourself, voice smooth like honey. “She mentioned you were a nice guy and to call you if I ever needed anything,” you say, taking up space in front of him by leaning into the door. “Just stopping by to say hi, then? Or do you need a cup of sugar or something like that?” you ask with a playful tone.

Suddenly, the last thing he wants to do is admit that there's something you could help him with—like turning down your music. He likes Fleetwood Mac as much as the next guy, but the last three days on shift have left him craving peace, not a soundtrack reverberating through the thin walls.

Plus, he wasn’t expecting you to be so damn attractive.

And he definitely wasn’t expecting to be wearing his shirt when you answered the door.

“Ha, no, don’t need any sugar,” he chuckles, “just thought I’d make myself known.” He pauses, eyes locked onto yours. You notice the subtle flecks of amber in his deep brown eyes and the furrow of his brow. He’s painfully handsome. Just as you’re about to say something, he breaks the silence first, “But I'll let you get back to whatever it is you’re doin’...you look busy,” he tilts his chin to the paint that’s splotched over your bare legs. You can tell he’s looking for the story behind the mess.

His left hand leaves his pocket and he places it on the doorframe. He leans into it, and your eyes catch the firmness of his bicep flexing under the strain of his lean before meeting his face once more.

“Cute shirt, by the way” he says, his voice low and even.

“Oh thanks, you like it?” you ask, pulling the fabric out in a tent from the center, noticing the little splatters of paint as you do. “It’s my aunt’s, I just borrowed it while I finish up some painting.”

“Yeah, I have the same one,” he adds, “looks a helluva lot better on you than it does me, though,” a little laugh leaves his chest and his cheeks flush, a little embarrassed that he just said that. Fuck, it’s been so long since he’s tried to flirt with a woman.

Your skin prickles with heat, and you’re suddenly very self-aware of what a wreck you must look like, but you decide to be bold anyway. “Maybe we’ll have to compare sometime,” you playfully retort.

“Yeah, maybe we will,” he responds, looking you up and down, hoping the meaning behind his words isn’t too obvious.

“Well if ya ever need anything, ‘m just across the way,” he says, dropping his hand from the doorframe, hitting his thigh with a slight sound of a pat. “Nice to meet ya, Darlin’,” he says. You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker down to your chest once more, your stiff nipples now peeking through the fabric. He turns on his heels and turns his back to walk back to his apartment.

“Nice to meet you, Joel,” you purr. His head peers over his shoulder back at you, and the corners of his lips turn up in a little smirk.

Oh god.

You’re so fucked.

++++

Later that night, you text your aunt that you just met Joel Miller. You curse her for not telling you how incredibly hot he is. You also tell her that you decided to finish the painting, sending a selfie of you in front of the freshly updated walls with the message. You also add that you borrowed one of her shirts and that you’ll do your best to get the paint out of it.

Her response causes your breath to hitch in your throat, and your stomach swirls into a tight knot.

“The walls look amazing! Oh and by the way, that’s not my shirt, it’s Joel’s. I must have forgotten to give it back to him; the shared laundry downstairs sometimes causes mix-ups. Be a doll and give it back to him, will ya? Oh and quarters for the machines are in the clay pot next to the door.”

Fuck. Of course you would answer the door to your incredibly hot neighbor, covered in paint, in his shirt. You shake your head in embarrassment.

You look down at the shirt and notice just how much paint is all over it. You strip it from your body, bring it over to the sink, and begin to scrub the paint out of it with dish soap. As you watch the paint fade into the warm water, you notice the tag on the inside of the shirt and the rank inscribed in permanent marker on it.

Your fingers prune in the water, but you eventually get all of the paint out of the fabric. Satisfied with your cleaning job, you hang it up to dry and scribble out a note.

The following morning, on your way out to explore the city, you leave it neatly folded on Joel’s doorstep. You don’t bother to knock, you’re certain you might combust from embarrassment if you did.

Shortly after, on his way to work, Joel opens the door and notices the shirt by his boot, a little envelope placed on top of it.

“You could have told me it was your shirt, Captain Miller.”

Joel smirks. The cat’s out of the bag on that little secret then. He places it inside and lets out a little sigh. The image of your perky nipples, exposed legs, and messy paint-riddled hair flashes in his brain.

God, he wishes you would have kept it.

S U M M E R

As spring transitions into summer, the city experiences a gradual warming trend. Cherry blossoms and tulips from spring slowly give way to vibrant green foliage. Parks become lively with people enjoying the pleasant weather, and outdoor events become more frequent. The temperature rises, and there's a noticeable shift towards a warmer atmosphere with longer days.

It’s a shift you also feel in yourself, having found your niche, carving out your place in the ecosystem of the city. You’ve gradually adjusted, figured out how to successfully navigate the complexities of the subway system, and are starting to rely less and less on Google Maps to get around. You frequent a bodega around the corner from you, know where to find a decent bagel, and are a recognizable regular at Sang Garden.

Your new job keeps you busy. It’s tough work being a bartender in the city, but it’s granted you more than one opportunity to meet people from all walks of life, people you’d never get the opportunity to meet back in your hometown.

People like the gregarious and charismatic trader, who’s more than happy to make it clear he works in the financial district, even when nobody asks. People like the countless young professionals unwinding after a long day with their colleagues; some with sexual tension so obvious you can taste it. Designers. Architects. Engineers. Writers. Musicians. Actors. You don’t like them all, but you don’t have to, you’ll never see most of them more than once anyway.

You quickly learn the art of making a good martini, one you think would make Samantha proud. It’s all so posh. So far from your usual. But the money is good, and without having to pay rent – a luxury you now realize; having almost fainted when your coworker told you how much he pays in rent – it allows you to pocket most of it.

Your first few months in New York have been good, although a tad lonely. Making friends was never really a strong suit of yours, and you’re finding the city to be a particularly hard place to get to know people in any real way. Most of your free time is spent curled up with a good book or watching Friends for the millionth time, wishing Central Perk was a real place.

You see Joel in passing now and then, the in-between times when he’s coming home from work, and you’re just leaving for yours. Sometimes you pass each other on the stairs, and you have to angle your bodies side-to-side just to fit on the narrow stairs as you navigate around one another. You sometimes have to collect your composure when you leave for work and notice the faint smell of his cologne still in the hallway, it smells so good it makes you dizzy.

You find excuses to talk to him every now and then – a squeaky fire detector, to hand him his mail, or even for a stupid cup of sugar. Every time you find yourself knocking on his door, the butterflies congregate in masses as if preparing to migrate. You feel like a school girl with a crush for the first time, but as far as you can tell, Joel doesn’t feel the same, and you’re okay with that. At least that’s what you try to tell yourself.

The exchanges are always short; little blips in the grand scene of time, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling like you might faint under the intensity of his scorching gaze. Which doesn’t help, considering it’s already sweltering outside.

You severely underestimated how hot summer would be. Of course, you’re used to the oppressive Texas sun, but something about the way the buildings and concrete reflect the rays makes it feel like New York is at least 10x hotter.

The temperature in your apartment isn’t much better than outside. The air hangs heavy inside as you lay on your mattress, clad in only a bra and underwear, on crisp white sheets, attempting to cool yourself with a damp towel on your forehead. You listen to the feeble hum of the wall crying out for help.

As luck would have it, the overworked unit decides to give in to the heat. Beads of sweat form on your forehead as you attempt to fix it, but it’s pointless. You stare at the lifeless unit, realizing that the city’s relentless heat has claimed it as a victim. Time for a new one.

Once the sun dips past the skyline, you venture out to your local hardware store to grab a new one. You wish you would have had some forethought to bring a cart or something, not thinking about the fact that you were going to have to carry the heavy unit eight city blocks. Coulda, shoulda, woulda, you think to yourself. Once back to your apartment, you balance the quirky box on your hip, holding it steady with one arm as you fumble to grab the key from your purse outside the entrance of the building. Your cheeks are warm, you’re drenched in sweat even at this hour, and your hair is starting to stick to the nape of your neck. You manage to grab it, but inadvertently drop it, your fingers clammy.

“Shit,” you mutter, frustrated and hot.

“Need some help there, Darlin’?” Joel asks, making his way up the stoop. You turn to face him and oh.

Of all the times you’ve seen Joel, you’ve never seen him in uniform. The sight catches you off guard. His crisp, navy blue uniform emphasizes his broad shoulders and neatly tucked shirt, the shiny FDNY badge on his chest. He flashes a charming smile, revealing a hint of dimples, as he picks up your fallen key with ease. You’re not sure how he always manages to look so put together, a stark contrast to the way you always seem to look in front of him.

"Rough day?" he asks, unlocking the door, and for a moment, you forget the oppressive heat, captivated by his charm. “Here, lemme take that for you,” he offers, and you kindly accept. You shift the box out of your arms into his, and your stomach swoops when you watch the way his biceps flex as he grabs the unit with ease.

Grateful for the assistance, you offer a sheepish smile, “Yeah, you could say that” you reply, opening the door, holding it open for him. He begins to ascend the staircase ahead of you, giving you a full view of his ass in his uniform pants; it’s toned, and his thick thighs match. You walk behind him, trying to ignore the stickiness that’s beginning to pool in your underwear. You allow yourself to perv out for a moment, at least while his back is to you. He’s just helping you out, stop being weird.

Joel waits at the top of the steps for you to open your door. Once unlocked, you enter and he follows behind you. “Oh shit, it’s hotter than hell in here,” he says once inside, the irony is not lost on you that a literal man who fights fires for a living thinks it’s hotter than hell. He bends to place the box down near the front door and rises to full height, bringing both hands to his hips. You notice the little sheen of sweat that has now collected on his thick neck, fighting the impulse to lap up the perspiration. “You’re telling me, I’m rendering lard,” you say, letting your Southern roots shine through. You cringe a little at yourself, watering your accent down to not stick out as much, but you’re reminded of the age-old saying you can take the girl out of the country…

You wipe the back of your hand on your forehead to push away the sweat that’s been collecting there all day and look at him. “Thanks for the help carrying it up,” you say, offering him a kind smile.

“No problem at all, need some help installing it? These units can be tricky,” he asks, trying his best to ignore the fact that your white shirt has gone see-through from your sweat, allowing him a perfect view of your breasts. No bra again, he notes. He shifts his stance a little, trying to prevent his cock from hardening at the sight.

“Are you sure?” you ask, a little unsure, but deep down you know you need the help. As much as you’d like to think of yourself as an independent and capable woman, you’ve never been one to be good with anything mechanical, and the heat has left your brain feeling like the static of a T.V. channel with no reception.

“Course. I’m a servant to public safety. Can’t have you accidentally pushing it out the window and crushing a person below, it’d be a lot of paperwork” he chuckles and takes out a knife from his pocket to undo the tape on the box. It’s an ordinary act, yet somehow you’re mesmerized by his dexterity and competency.

Midway through the process, Joel pauses, feeling the heat, and glances at you with a lighthearted grin. “Mind if I take this off?” he asks, tugging at the collar of the uniform shirt. You nod, suddenly feeling warmer than before. “Sure, go ahead.”

His large fingers fumble with the buttons on the shirt, eventually revealing a white tank top underneath. The fabric clings to him, highlighting his defined chest, and a little bit of belly. You practically drool at the sight, once again resisting an impulse to want to sink your flesh into the softness above his belt.

He has an awful farmer's tan, but he wears it well; his forearms are a nice shade of golden and his shoulders are pale. You see from the lack of collar on the tank that he has a bare chest. He throws the uniform shirt onto a nearby chair and goes back to work installing the unit. You watch as he works to position it in the window, stealing glances at his glistening skin as he does. You think you’re being sly about it, but Joel can tell, he can feel your eyes heavy like bowling balls on him.

“So, how long have you been a firefighter?” you ask.

“About 15 years,” he responds. “Sorta always knew I wanted to do it, I was a contractor for a while, but wasn’t my thing.”

“Oh no? You seem like you’re pretty good with your hands,” you reply, your words suggestive.

“Never said I wasn’t, Darlin,’” he replies, shooting you a wink.

He plugs the unit in, and the screen comes to life. He sets the temperature as low as it will go, and the fan on high; the unit is about to put in overtime to make the air tolerable again.

“Well, that should do it,” straightening back up from his bent-over position, clapping his hands together as if to dust the task off. “Probably gonna take a while for it to cool down in here. You’re uh, more than welcome to hang out at mine for the time being. Don’t need you overheating on me,” trying to mask his excitement at you being in his space by carding his fingers through his salt and pepper curls.

You glance at the unit, and you can tell he’s right. “Alright, why not,” you say, offering him a smile. “Just gonna use the restroom fast,” you say, looking for an excuse to make yourself at least somewhat presentable and confirm that you don’t smell like a sweaty subway car.

Inspecting yourself in the harsh, exposing light of the bathroom, you grimace at your appearance. Not that you’d been expecting to look your best, but still. You pat the extra moisture off your skin with a clean towel, when you notice that nipples are straining against the fabric of your wet t-shirt, leaving nothing to the imagination. You briefly consider changing shirts, but the cheeky side of you decides to leave it be. You give yourself a quick smile and internal encouragement in the mirror and you step out of the bathroom.

Joel waits in the foyer by the door for you, taking the opportunity to learn a little more about you, drinking in the details of your space for any glimmers of insight it might give him about your life.

He’s been in the space before, but it’s different this time – updated. It still has many of the same things your aunt had put up, but you’ve added new additions to the walls; photos of you with friends, and family, and vinyl covers in frames. His eyes gravitate to a photo of you at your college graduation; your smile ear to ear, a bottle of champagne in your hands. You always seem happy. He likes that about you. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t look for a photo of you with another guy, a hint that you might already be taken, but he’s relieved when he doesn’t find one.

The bathroom door opens with a soft creak, and you stroll out, shooting him a casual but confident smile. As you do, you casually tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, giving off an easygoing vibe. It's a simple move, but there's a certain charm to it that doesn't go unnoticed by Joel.

“Ready?” you ask, and he clears his throat, trying to hide his pleasure that you opted not to change your still slightly transparent shirt. “Let’s get outta here,” he says, yanking on the handle, the door groans and opens with a loud creak. “Don’t wanna hit traffic.” Oh god, that’s a dad joke if you’ve ever heard one. You try to hide the stupid smile that graces your face, but Joel sees it, and matches it. Your shoulder brushes against his chest as you walk through the door, and Joel straightens in response, a little tingle shooting up his spine from the brief touch. Get a fucking grip, Miller, he thinks to himself, pulling the door closed behind him.

++++

Once inside his apartment, you gasp. It’s not at all what you expected.

If his front doorstep was any indication, you expected his apartment to be full of Ikea furniture, bare walls, and maybe a fake plant in the corner somewhere. You’re pleasantly surprised when you find that it’s the exact opposite; you feel like you’ve just wanted into some swanky bar. The air smells like palo santo, but above all, it’s cool. You let out a sigh of relief.

“Can I get you a beer” he asks, and you nod your head in response. He walks into the kitchen, and you’re mesmerized by his space. It’s a similar layout to your apartment, but somehow it feels bigger, even a tad cozier, plus he has exposed brick, a detail you wish your apartment had.

“Your apartment is amazing,” you tell him, spinning around to get a full 360 view of the space. You hear him yell something like thanks from the kitchen.

You find your seat on the cognac-colored couch and run your hand up and down the texture of it. The leather is cool on your skin, and your body temperature slowly begins to return to normal.

Joel returns from the kitchen, and hands you a Bud Light. And for once, you don’t wish for it to turn into a martini. Now having spent a few months in the city, you’re starting to realize that you’re more of a bud girl than a cocktail girl, and that fairy godmothers are a tad overrated.

You’re not sure when he did it, but your ear tunes to the classic sound of Beast of Burden by the Rolling Stones playing in the background at a low volume, adding a funk you adore to the moment.

He finds a seat on the couch next to you and throws his arm behind you on the ledge. He crosses his legs over one another, and you squirm, not out of discomfort, but nerves.

“I am impressed with your apartment, it’s well decorated,” you compliment him, bringing the bottle of beer to your lips.

“Had a bit of help, ‘f I’m being honest,” he replies. Your stomach flips.

“Oh?” you say, a bit breathless, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Of course, he would have a girlfriend. You see it plain as day now, the feminine touches built into the apartment, hanging on the walls in plain sight, taunting you with the obvious. He even has like ten live plants for fucks sake. Joel Miller is taken.

“My daughter, Sarah,” he replies, bringing the beer to his mouth for another swig. You try not to make your sigh of relief too obvious. “Oh!” you squeak and turn your body to face him. You don’t know if you’ve scooted closer or if he did, but your thighs are now touching.

“She’s studying interior design. Begged me this past year to let her fix up my apartment, and well…I didn’t have the heart ta say no,” he replies. “Said my apartment resembled a frat boys bachelor pad,” he lets out a gruff little chuckle and you smile at him.

His arm drifts close to you, his hand nearly touching your shoulder. It’s not quite there, but you can feel the heat, the electricity, his fingertips shoot to your skin. So much for cooling down.

“Well, if you didn’t decorate the space, what’s your favorite part about it then?” you ask, taking another swig at the bottle. Joel stares at your lips as they latch around the glass, admiring how plush and warm they look. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t wonder what they might look like around his cock.

“Ah, good question,” he says, bringing his hand to cover his crotch with the bottle, all while subtly trying to adjust himself from his previous thought. He’s surprised he even heard your question at all. “Probably the table over there,” he says, nodding his head back to signal to the dining room.

“Made it myself,” he says, a bit of pride in his voice.

You crane your neck to look, but can’t get a good view with how plush the cushions are. You slightly angle your body upwards, coming onto your knee on the couch to look, bringing your chest closer to Joel’s face.

“Well I’ll be damned, you really must be good with your hands,” you playfully tease, letting your body sink by his side once more, feeling the warmth he exudes. Your words cause his gaze to go dark. “Mhmm,” he murmurs, taking another sip of his beer, sure if he said any more he might regret it.

You notice the music switches to Kings of Leon, a favorite tune of yours echoing through the air. “Oh shit, I love this song,” you exclaim, barely able to contain your excitement, much to Joel’s delight.

“Yeaaaaaah, your sex is on fireeeee,” you belt, and you inadvertently tilt your beer bottle a little too far down in the process of your solo, and a splash of beer pours out onto Joel’s lap. The action abruptly causes you to stop.

“Ah, I’m so sorry,” you apologize profusely, setting the nearly empty bottle on the coffee table in front of you, noticing the box of tissues as you do.

“Don’t worry about it, Darlin’,” he says, voice mellow, placing his beer on the table, too.

You frantically grab a handful of tissues and bring them over to the wet spot pooling on Joel’s crotch. “Here, let me,” you say, dabbing at the liquid, the realization not fully hitting you that your hands are literally on his crotch until – oh.

Joel’s been walking the fine line of a stiff one all night, and your simple gesture throws him over the edge, the dabbing causing blood to rush to his cock.

You continue to blot at the liquid and notice him stiffening underneath you. A heavy rush of arousal courses through you, and heats your core. Joel’s hand darts to grab your wrist, the size of it completely swallowing up your entirety of it, his fingers wrapped around it, and you’re certain he feels your pulse quicken under his touch.

You look up at him with big doe eyes, only to find his own pupils are blown open wide with lust, his jaw tense. His other hand finds the side of your face, and he holds you up to look at him. You both pause there, letting the tension of the moment swallow you whole. He looks at you like you're a juicy summer peach, ripe for the picking.

His grip on your wrist softens, and you flatten your hand to palm at his growing bulge. Joel lets out a deep groan in response to the full contact. “Shit darlin’,” he says, voice wrecked. His hand drifts to the column of your neck, and he begins to pull you up so you’re face-to-face with him.

The anticipation builds, and just as your lips are about to meet, a sudden shrill sound shatters the moment – the fire alarm.

“Fuck.” Joel groans.

TO BE CONTINUED - READ PART 2

Tagging moots and those who I think might like this: @endlessthxxghts @theoasisofthings @bastardmandennis @untamedheart81@lavema @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @dugiioh @nervoushottee @milly-louise @ghostwritesthings@josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @peachmy @survivingandenduring@darkheartgatita @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @dins-riduur-anthe @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro As always, feel free to let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list, or removed (even if we're moots, no hard feelings). Might transition to a notifs blog soon.xx

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller #pedro pascal character #pedrohub #pedro pascal #new york #firefighter smut #pedro stories

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cherryredstars · 3 months

Note

Can you make a dbf (dads best friend) miguel where there at a family reunion and miguel cant resist not fucking you before anyone notices you two are gone.?

Ps. I love your stories🤭

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x gn!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Penetrative Sex, Sexual Touching, Slapping, Gagging, Spitting, Implied Age Gap

Summary: Did you really think he forgot your gift?

A/N: Another request that two different people wanted LMAO. Thank you for reading my stories, love!

Word Count: 1.5K (Not Edited)

Four years.

It had been four years since he had last seen you. Of course you had been home within those four years, but Miguel was always too busy to drop by and catch a view of you before you’d eventually fly back out of state for university. But now, you’re here. To stay this time. And when Miguel got the invitation from your father for a party celebrating your return, who was he to decline?

Maybe not seeing you for those four years was a blessing in disguise. The second he had walked out to the backyard, your dad had instantly ushered him to you. You were talking to some old friends that you had kept a long distance connection with, turning around when your father had called your name. Miguel was a sucker the moment you had turned around, a dazzling smile on your face. His breath had stilled when you leaned up on your toes, turning your head slightly to press a kiss to both of his cheeks in greeting. The joyful tone you had said his name in had him practically purring. Cute little you who was about to enter the realities of adulthood staying by his side to chat and pester him like you were still in high school. Always a fucking tease.

And the day kept on getting better and better. You always seemed to be hovering somewhere near him. Always came up to him and your father for seemingly the tiniest things. He didn’t fail to notice the small glances you had given him across the yard. Could feel your eyes straying to him every now and then. You were always in his peripheral vision. Almost like you wanted his attention. And when you had come over to him asking him to help you get some things inside to help replenish the snack table, he had to hide his smirk by taking a sip of his beer.

It wasn’t long until he had you pinned in your childhood bedroom, cheek pressed against the door as he cooed in your ear, “Oh my poor baby. Missed me, hm? Couldn’t keep your greedy little eyes off of me.”

You could only whine, wiggling your hips as you felt his hard on pressing against your ass. Miguel groaned against your ear, grinding into you. He couldn’t help the wicked smile as you let out pleased sighs and desperate whines. His teeth tugged on your earlobe, causing you to gasp.

“What is it, amor? What’s with your little fit?” He whispered hotly into your ear. You only huffed, pressing your hands against the door to push yourself harder against him. Unhappy with the attitude, Miguel stopped the slow rutting he was doing against you. The desperate ‘please!’ you whispered instantly lifted his mood.

His hand slid down your back, snaking to your front. You move your forehead to press against the door, mouth hanging open as you look down to watch his hand slip through the front of your pants and into your underwear. “I think I know. Upset I didn’t get you a welcome home gift, my greedy baby?”

You almost collapsed against him when his fingers grazed over your slit, gathering the arousal spilling from you, “Almost forgot how much of a spoiled brat you are. You want a gift, I’ll give you one.”

You gave a desperate cry as Miguel pressed his fingers harder against you, your hips bucking. Miguel chuckled darkly, his other hand beginning to under your pants and pull them down. As he did so, he grazed the wet spot in your underwear, making your cheeks flame. His eyes darkened as he began to pull your underwear down, the soft flesh of your ass being revealed to him. Miguel hummed at the sight, giving it a firm slap that had your back arching. He rubbed the reddening skin, cooing down at you.

He kept one hand on your ass, rubbing it in his large hands as his fingers left your slit. His fingers were sticky with arousal, heavy with your scent. It made him impossibly harder, his cock twitching in his pants. His fingers went back to you, circling your hole before he stuffed them in. You cried out at the sudden stretch, your hips moving to try to get away from him. It only encouraged him to give your ass another spank.

Your nails clawed at the door, making a dreadful squeaking noise as Miguel pumped his fingers in and out of you rapidly. You can hear the noise of his palm hitting against your body as he works his fingers, causing you to whine loudly. Miguel’s hand was quick to leave its place on your ass cheek, slapping it over your mouth.

“Shhh, baby. You don’t want me to take away your gift, do you?” Miguel hissed and you rapidly shook your head no.

Miguel cooed at your quick obedience, rewarding you with a kiss to the back of your neck that made you melt into him. You could feel Miguel’s finger pressing into that pleasurable spot inside of you, and your hips bucked as you felt your orgasm approaching. But before you could reach the peak, Miguel’s fingers left you. You cried against his hand, your hips wiggling to try to get back that stimulation. Miguel laughed meanly at you, his hand slapping down on your ass, leaving a wet spot from his drenched fingers.

You could hear the sound of fabric and a belt, hearing Miguel's relieved sigh when he freed his leaking cock from his briefs. You tried to turn your head to see, but your body stiffened as Miguel’s belt slid into your face. His hand left your mouth, the taste of leather filling your mouth. Your body stifled when you felt the buckle, feeling the belt tighten around the back of your head to keep it in place. You whined against it, the sound being effectively muffled.

Your body jumped again when you felt a wetness slide down the hole, gasping as you realized Miguel had spit on you. Your wiggling hips only made it drip further down your skin. You heard Miguel spit again, but instead of it landing on you, he worked the saliva up and down his cock. After the saliva coated his cock, he pressed the head of it to your opening. You wasted no time rubbing yourself against it, earning a moan from the both of you. While one of Miguel’s hands held his cock in place, his other hand went to grab your wrists and hold them against your back. The only thing holding you in place was your forehead pressed against the door and your two legs.

Slowly, Miguel pushed his cock into you, making you cry out. Wet noises filled the room as he slid further and further into you, your walls sucking him in. Miguel let out a groan as he bottomed out, his hand coming to grip your wrist as he stared down at where the two of you met. He gave you an experimental thrust, chuckling as your legs almost gave out. That experimental thrust was the only warning he gave you before he pulled out to the tip, and snapped his hips all the way to the hilt again. You screamed against the leather belt as he did it over and over again, giving you deep punishing thrusts. You body shook with the force of it, and the door rattled as he kept fucking you into it. You can feel yourself pulsing and twitching as he adjusted his angle to hit your gummy spot, that sweet orgasm building up inside of you again.

You can feel tears rushing from your eyes, and the only reason you had not collapsed to the floor was Miguel’s tight grip holding you up. Around your gag, you screamed Miguel’s name, your body convulsing as that orgasm ripped through you. Miguel grunted as you came, his orgasm quickly approaching. You sobbed as his thrusts didn’t stop hitting that sensitive spot, the overstimulation getting to you as another orgasm built up like a raging fire. Miguel let go of your hands, reaching to the front of you to give your sex a mean pinch that had you exploding again at the same time his seed began to spill inside of you. Miguel let out a dragged moan as he stilled, his cock twitching inside of you.

You panted heavily as Miguel undid the belt around your head and began to pull out of you. You whined as he left you, feeling an aching hollowness inside of you. Another whimper left you when you felt his cum begin to seep from your hole, a protest on your lips as he quickly slipped your underwear up to you so you could spill it into your clothing. The wetness was uncomfortable, feeling it continue to leave you. Miguel only chuckled as he readjusted himself, watching a dark patch beginning to form in your underwear.

“Welcome home, kid.”

Join Cherry’s Discord Server

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neptuneiris · 7 months

Text

sparks (01/04)

My heart is yours It's you that I hold on to

pairing: business-boyfriend!aemond x fem!reader

summary: at the beginning your relationship with aemond is perfect and there were no worries. until he becomes the Heir of his father's company, the most important in the whole country and certain events and certain people start to interfere in the relationship.

word count: 8.6k

next part • series masterlist

AHHH here is another story!

I'm really excited for this one especially since it's angst but in a modern world, which I haven't done since cardigan and gosh what I have prepared for this, you're going to like it a lot or that's what I hope haha.

I look forward to your comments excited, I love responding to each one of them, thank you for your support and for reading, you are amazing beautiful people, enjoy!

warnings: pure angst

You're losing him.

You say to yourself as you read the messages from your boyfriend, Aemond.

You stare emotionlessly at your phone screen for a few more moments as you bite the inside of your cheek, beginning to feel a sharp pain in your chest and disappointment coursing through your body.

With a defeated gesture, you turn off the screen and head to your room, starting to take off your makeup, hairstyle and also the beautiful black dress that you were so excited for Aemond to see you wearing.

You resist the urge to cry at all times, especially when you remove your makeup and look at yourself in the mirror, biting your lips and telling yourself that this is no big deal, that you shouldn't cry.

You know it's not his fault, you know he has work and that keeps him very busy, but it's not the first time this has happened.

Days before he proposes the idea of going to dinner, just you and him, to one of those fine restaurants downtown, telling you he wants to enjoy a luxurious dinner with you, making you get excited and start planning what you will wear and how you will do your makeup and hair.

And when the day comes… his work prevents him from leaving the company building and consumes more of his time.

You understand the great responsibility he carries on his back being the heir to his father's important company, preparing at twenty-three years old to become the next big head and boss by the time comes, but you never thought you would have to spend less time with him every day.

Aemond a year ago graduated with a degree in business management and as soon as he received his college degree, he started working with his father.

You met him because you both have friends in common at the same university even though you study marketing and are a year younger, yet your friends would ask you out to clubs or for drinks and Aemond would join in.

That's when the two of you started talking and getting to know each other better. And as a result of that, eventually he and you started hanging out together until you formalized everything by being in a relationship.

Not too long after that, the two of you decided to live together in an apartment near the university, which you could afford because Aemond has always belonged to a rich family and also because of your half-time job at a coffee shop.

But when Aemond graduated and started working with his father, the whole relationship slowly began to change.

You only talk when he comes home late, asking you how was your day, what did you do and you also ask the same to him, realizing that there is no day where Aemond does not go through stress.

Now you see him less time, in the evening he comes back and you don't even talk much as he feels exhausted, so he takes a shower and goes to sleep.

There are no more times where you go out to the movies, to a fast food restaurant, bowling, for drinks with friends, not even watching movies at home or eating together, be it breakfast, lunch, dinner, nothing.

Even in his days off, he is working in his home office, taking calls and so on, while you miraculously wait for him to have a little break and talk to you, but again... nothing.

That's why right now you don't want to get angry with him, because you know it's not his fault, but still... you can't resist it anymore and the first tears fall down your cheeks and low sobs escape from your throat.

You want to reassure yourself, thinking that you shouldn't cry over this, that it's not that big of a deal, but you can't stop, the tears keep coming and your sobs are the only thing that can be heard all over the room, crying louder at the thought of how much you miss him.

You continue to remove everything from your face in tears, even the hairstyle that took you hours, and then you calm down and put on your sleeping clothes.

You leave your beautiful dress on your comfortable sofa next to the window, deciding to put it properly back in your closet tomorrow, not having any more courage for this day, wanting to lie down on your bed, sleep and nothing else.

You feel sleep take you and you sink into deep darkness, resting. Then you don't know exactly how much time has passed, but a sound makes you slowly open your eyes.

You hear him start to walk softly around the room, trying not to make too much noise, feeling his gaze on you for a few moments.

You hear perfectly the sound of the door to the room and then footsteps entering.

"Love? Are you asleep?"

You hear him ask you in his low but audible and attentive enough tone, but you don't say or do anything to him.

Aemond lets out a long breath as he sees that you are asleep, feeling very tired and just as disappointed as you are, to start taking off his clothes and heading to take a shower.

You continue to lie still, turning your back to him, still pretending to sleep when you know you shouldn't but... you don't want to talk to him about what happened tonight, you don't feel in the mood.

You're tired, disappointed and don't want to get upset with him when it's not his fault, but you won't be able to help it.

And when he returns to the room already with his sleeping clothes on, about to lie down next to you, he briefly inspects the room and feels a pain in his chest when he sees two of your makeup removal towels on your vanity full of it, causing him pity.

It doesn't really take him long even though all the time he thinks about you and how disappointed you must have been, also how sad you must have felt.

But you never bother with him and that's what makes him more frustrated as he fails you once again because you understand him, you always do.

Also when he sees the black dress on the couch, he feels terrible.

Finally he turns his attention to you in bed, turning off the bathroom light and lying down next to you, instantly hugging you gently from behind so as not to wake you up and leaves a soft, tender kiss on your shoulder and others in your hair.

You still continue to pretend, enjoying his touch for a moment, but you again hold back the urge to cry all the time, feeling so good but not enough, as before.

Then Aemond drops his head on the pillow, covers himself with the sheets and finally he is carried away by the sleep, still hugging you.

You bite the inside of your cheek throughout, trying to control yourself so as not to get his attention when you've been doing so well and you close your eyes, wanting to go back to sleep

Yet there in the dark, in the place of you and Aemond, with his arm around you and holding you against him, feeling his soft breath at the base of your neck, you can't help but wonder: what if he's losing me?

You let out a long breath as you finally dare to walk through the huge doors of the big and tall building where Aemond works.

You have been here many times before, this is nothing new to you, however you feel anxious and a bit nervous as you have decided to come here without telling him before.

So you don't know if he is busy in the middle of a meeting or if he is in his office with a pile of papers around.

You are allowed free passage as most of the people here know you for being his girlfriend, so you don't really have any problems and say hello to all the receptionists, secretaries and security guards.

You have decided to come here to bring him his coffee of choice and also food, knowing that his break time starts in exactly ten minutes.

The thing is that he seems to be still working after all so you don't know what he must be doing now.

Once the elevator drops you on the floor where his office is, you instantly greet Eleonor, his assistant.

"It's been a while since I've seen you last, Y/N!"

She says with a loving smile, hugging you tightly and you smile hugging her back, taking care not to let the food and coffee fall out of your hands.

"Oh yeah, I'll tell you," she says pointing to all the paperwork on her desk with an exhausted look, "That man doesn't rest and you should put a limit on him," she says seriously.

"Yeah, I know," you both pull apart and you look at her without wiping your smile, "I've been really busy with college and also Aemond lately has had a lot of work so.... each one is on his own."

"You know how stubborn he is," you tell her as you shake your head in disappointment, "But anyway, I came to bring him food, is he in his office?" you point to his door.

"Oh no, he went to his father's office for some papers, but he should be on his way back by no—

The sound of the elevator makes you both turn your gazes to it, interrupting Eleonor and when the doors open Aemond appears, quickly walking out of there with his gaze fixed on the screen of his phone while in his other hand he holds a folder.

"There he is," Eleonor tells you with a small smile.

You smile back at her and turn your attention to Aemond, who looks so handsome in his office suits, so masculine and powerful, drawing everyone's attention everywhere he goes, adding to that his beautiful long silver hair.

But not only that, his sapphire eye also attracts attention.

He lost his eye in an accident as a child, however, by filling his empty socket with that precious stone, he feels even more powerful, signifying respect and endurance to him, also a form of intimidation as he will become the boss one day.

He also has a prosthetic eye, but that one he wears more when he is with his family or also when he was going to college, although already being at home, he doesn't wear anything.

You see the frustration all over his face at whatever he must be looking at on his phone screen, but when he looks up, everything softens the moment he sees you, a small smile appears on his lips, but also the slight confusion, speeding up his pace towards you a little more.

"Hey baby."

"Hi," you smile softly at him, closing the distance between the two of you.

"What are you doing here?"

He asks you without wiping away his small smile, reaching towards you and instantly leaning down to leave a soft kiss on your lips which you reciprocate, smiling.

"I came to bring you your black coffee and food too," you point to everything in your hands, proudly.

"But don't you have classes?" he asks you confused, watching everything and also you, attentive.

"In two hours"

"Oh thank you, my sweet girl," he leaves another soft kiss on your lips, taking the coffee first as he sets the papers down on Eleonor's desk to take a sip, "Uff, I needed that."

"Yeah," you let out a small laugh, "It's your lunch hour, isn't it?"

"It's supposed to be," he tells you as the frustration returns to his face and so does his bad mood, "I have an important meeting in five minutes, I just got word," he points to the boardroom with his gaze, taking another sip of his coffee.

"Oh," disappointment again washes over you, as you had hoped this wouldn't happen, "I was hoping to spend some time with you," you tell him trying not to sound as sad as you really are.

And he lets out a long breath, turning his expression of pity and concern.

"I know love," he tells you as he rests his forehead with yours, looking at you sadly and as if asking for forgiveness, "You know if I could do anything—

"No, no, I know, it's okay babe," you assure him, interrupting him, "Then I won't stop you anymore if you have to work."

You smile softly at him, though it doesn't quite reach your eyes and then take the topper where his food is, as Aemond watches you intently and even sadly.

"I'll leave this in your office until you can eat, then I'll leave."

"Wait," he stops you in a soft voice, pulling you back towards him as he takes your arm, "Y/N, about last night—

"Mr. Targaryen!"

Suddenly a female voice interrupts him and also the moment, making you both focus behind him, where a tall woman with long black hair, red dress and black high heels approaches with a rather elegant and calculated way of walking, with a huge smile on her lips.

Aemond watches you back and stands next to you as he intertwines his fingers with yours and clears his throat, turning back to watch her.

"Miss Rivers," he nods politely towards her.

"It is a pleasure to see you on this day, Mr. Targaryen," she nods her head towards him as well, placing herself in front of you both.

"It is also a pleasure."

You watch Aemond for a second and then turn your gaze to her, watching as she also watches you at about the same time and that's when he reacts.

"Love, this is Alys Rivers, co-owner of the Riverlands company," he tells you and points to you with his hand, "And Miss Rivers, this is Y/N Y/L/N, my girlfriend."

You usually meet a lot of people who are also involved in all this business management stuff because of Aemond, especially when he takes you with him to important events and dinners as his companion, so this isn't new either.

What is new is this woman... Alys Rivers.

Normally she would have been just another woman who owns a company and is doing business with Aemond for her father's company, but the way she subtly inspects you up and down, and you notice the way she looks at your joined hand with Aemond.... you don't like it.

She looks at you superiorly and as if you're no big deal, almost expectantly, her bright smile from before disappearing for a second, but then she holds out her hand to you.

"Oh sure, it is a pleasure to meet you," she says to you with the brighter smile from before, but completely fake.

You bite the inside of your cheek and since you shouldn't be rude, much less to what you think is Aemond's new partner and company, you take her hand and shake it briefly.

"A pleasure," you nod in her direction.

"We're discussing a contract," Aemond then tells you, leaning his body toward you.

"Oh really? That sounds—

"Actually, speaking of discussions," she interrupts you, catching both of your attention, "I'm sorry but could I steal your boyfriend for a moment?"

She asks you suddenly, her tone too high and mellow, completely fake, without erasing her smile, revealing her perfect, aligned teeth.

"I really don't mean to intrude," she says with a sorrow look, but you don't believe her at all, "It's just that I'm afraid your grandfather and also my uncle are already expecting us Mr. Targaryen," she turns to Aemond to focus on you again, "I'm sure you'll understand, business stuff."

Of course you understand, you know Aemond's job perfectly well and in fact you wouldn't have taken any more notice of this woman despite the fake way she acts towards you and also because of the way she looked at you before.

But... you care very much the moment she places her hand on Aemond's shoulder, exposing her perfect red painted nails.

"Shall we?" she asks him as she watches him with a certain gleam in her eyes and gaze, completely attentive and in his disposition.

Of course Aemond notices this too, who almost instantly watches as she touches him, not understanding what has happened to her to casually make such a gesture or rather what has she thought to take such a liberty, then subtly walking away from her, trying not to look annoyed.

"I'll be there in a moment," he tells her just as polite and serious as before.

But she is insistent.

"I'm sorry Mr. Targaryen but we must leave now."

"Don't worry, I'm sure my grandfather can speak in my absence."

The smile fades from her lips, but you see how she quickly pulls herself together, although you've had enough of this and you don't want to delay Aemond any longer even though you don't like this woman at all, but at least they won't be alone and there are more people involved in the meeting.

And before she speaks, you do, addressing him.

"Don't worry love, I'll be on my way," you smile at him, "I don't want to delay you any longer. But I'll see you tonight, okay?"

And this immediately gets his attention.

"Do you need someone to drive you? I can tell Cole."

"No, no need, it's fine," you assure him, "You eat this, okay?"

You point to the food then extend it to Eleonor, as he smiles softly.

"Okay."

"Have a good day, love you."

"You too, love you."

You leave a soft kiss on his lips and finally head to the elevator, feeling the piercing gaze of Alys Rivers, but you don't mind, since at least you weren't the fake one the whole time.

After you leave the building and head to the university, your day goes by slow, stressful and with a lot to do, until finally your class ends at almost nine o'clock at night and you head home completely exhausted.

Normally Aemond comes home at ten o'clock at night, however, you don't know why you were hoping that maybe he had come home earlier, however, when you get to the apartment everything is dark.

You let out a long breath and turn on the lights, wishing and hoping that Aemond was already here and that just for one night, he would be the one to welcome you home.

You've thought about bringing up the subject of how you should spend more time with him, how he could maybe organize his work schedule better, how you've been feeling lately and how you misses him, telling him that nothing feels like it used to.

So the days and weeks go by, nothing has changed, you are still working half days, you are still going to classes, doing projects, research and so on.

While Aemond is still working very hard at the company, both of you seeing each other until late at night when he finishes another long and stressful day at work.

However, the words get stuck in your throat as you see him coming home from work very tired, deciding it's best to let him rest and sleep.

But more and more you feel the disappointment and sadness envelop you, having to deal with it yourself because you don't want to upset him.

Then one day, everything starts to go wrong.

In the middle of your Sales and Negotiation class, suddenly your phone vibrates and while listening attentively to your professor, you briefly glance at the screen for a second, seeing that it's a message from Floris, a friend you and Aemond have in common.

She apparently sends you a link to a magazine article that you can't really read unless you open the chat, and then you see two more messages from her.

[Floris B]: you saw this??

[Floris B]: ????

This definitely gets your attention, but before you can do anything, your professor draws more attention from everyone in the class and you go back to being attentive, hoping none of it was a bad thing.

However, an hour after class ends, you finally leave the classroom and start walking down the hallway in the direction of your next class with your phone in hand, opening the curious magazine link and what pops up... it's definitely bad.

With your thumb you read more of the whole news, where yes there are pictures of Aemond with that woman in a restaurant, just the two of them, him in his office clothes and her in an elegant dress.

You feel your breathing getting heavier as you see more pictures, where there is one in particular where you see how she has her hand on top of his, they are both obviously talking but there are also papers and folders on the table.

Again you feel that sharp pain in your chest, not wanting to jump to conclusions so fast, you trust Aemond with your life but clearly you don't trust her.

What you don't understand is why they went to a restaurant together. If they have talked business, which in fact there is no other reason why the two of them would be together, why not take care of it at the office?

You enter Safari and as you google Aemond, you see the same magazine article everywhere, instantly more magazines and newspapers advertising the same thing, all about a possible relationship between him and Alys Rivers.

You let out a long breath and finally head to your class, trying not to think about it anymore, but as the minutes tick by... you can't.

In all your remaining classes you find it hard to concentrate, you feel an uncertainty and anxiety all the time, you feel really bad and you have no idea what will happen when Aemond and you see each other tonight.

Not only Floris messages you, but also other friends that you and Aemond have in common, but you don't respond to them, only making you feel more anxious that the news is spreading fast.

Until finally you can go home and having no other choice, you wait for Aemond to arrive.

You pour yourself a glass of wine, unable to help it and wait for Aemond at the kitchen island, drinking and having the hope that this, that woman, is no threat and that what happened just happened inside the business and will not happen anymore.

Or at least it won't happen anymore in the sense that Aemond won't show up with her publicly anymore to avoid the press making speculations like this, that whether you want it to or not, they affect you and a lot.

You really don't know what is going on with Aemond in the company, you don't know what he talks about with his grandfather, his father, his mother and this woman, you don't know about his negotiations, his work and that's why it affects you, because you don't know what is happening.

Everything would be simpler if he and you had the time to talk, to share what you do, what you should do, as before.

However... you have the suspicion that this is not only in Aemond's hands, but that it is something beyond, something this woman is in control of and you don't like it at all, not since you met her and she gave you a bad feeling.

And you finally let out all the air you're holding in when you hear the sound of the door.

You continue sitting still on the stool, with the glass of wine in your hands, waiting. When again you hear the sound of the door closing and the figure of Aemond appearing, instantly he sees you.

He lets out a long breath as it finally becomes clear to him that you saw the news, he knew it before when he too saw the article in his office and officially started his stressful and frustrating day, but he didn't think it would affect you so much.

He leaves his keys on the island and then takes off his jacket with a silence enveloping you both, where he watches you attentively but you don't look back at him, still deep in thought, taking another sip of your wine.

He sees your dull look, the anxiety all over your body, the uncertainty, the sadness, the stress and he bets that your treacherous thoughts are making you believe things that are not.

He also notices how bad you must feel and how tense and distant you are from him now, and that worries him more than anything else.

"Nothing happened between me and this woman, Y/N."

Then he decides to speak, not bearing this anymore, your silence, your attitude, your distance. He just wants to hold you, hug you and kiss you, which is all he wants every time he finishes another horrible day at work.

He tells you tactfully, his voice soft and honest, firm with what he's saying, taking a couple of steps toward you, to which you continue without looking at him.

"I just want to know why you went to that restaurant together," you tell him in your voice just as soft as his, almost even sounding tired.

And he knows you too well, however, because this news is practically everywhere, being the first time you both face something like this, you remain calm and willing to talk.

And this strangely confuses and surprises him.

Although it shouldn't since he knows that you never get angry with him, at least not in this kind of situations since from the beginning of the relationship, communication has always been paramount before jumping to your own conclusions, avoiding fights.

And this gives him a bit of confidence to move closer to you.

"I just thought it would be better to take care of some business in public," he tells you honestly, "I know you didn't like her when you met her, neither did I. I also know she started to cross physical boundaries and I didn't like the idea of being with her alone in my office, that's why I decided on a public place out of respect for you," he explains, "I should have known this would happen though," he says bitterly,

Nothing.

You say nothing. You just listen and think.

You still don't like that he's having encounters with this woman, but if he has to do it for company business, you're not going to have an argument with him when it's just work.

And your silence begins to unsettle and frustrate him.

"You believe me, don't you?" he asks you insistently, concerned.

"Of course I do," you tell him in a murmur, without much emotion, though honestly, watching him out of the corner of your eye.

You almost snort in disbelief, of course you believe him.

Only you know when Aemond is being honest or not and you are relieved that he is always thinking of you, but he is not the problem, it's his job and this woman, that's what doesn't leave you alone.

But Aemond doesn't feel reassured just hearing that from you.

You take the last sip of your wine glass and get up from the stool to head to the dishwasher, saying nothing more, then start heading for the bedroom, causing Aemond to become more concerned and insistent.

"Where are you going?"

"I want to sleep."

He lets out a sigh as he averts his gaze for a second.

"Come on Y/N, don't be like that," he looks at you sadly.

"I'm not doing anything," you tell him, walking past him.

"You haven't even looked me in the eye since I arrived," he insists, stopping you.

"Aemond..." you finally give him a look, "I'm tired."

"Me too but I want to fix this," he says immediately.

"No, I'm tired... of everything," you clarify, serious and also sad.

He looks at you without understanding.

"What do you mean? I already explained to you—

"No, it's not just her, it's... your work and us."

You say more specifically, causing more confusion from Aemond, who watches you with furrowed brows and parted lips, attentive.

"I've wished for just one, one day where we can spend time together," you confess to him, "I don't mean fifteen, twenty minutes, I mean the whole afternoon or evening, or a day where on your days off you're not cooped up in your office."

"Y/N, I-I—

"I know you have a lot of work, I understand that," you clarify, "I don't want to harass you with this too when you have more important things to take care of, truly—

"Do you think you're not important?" he asks instantly confused, bewildered.

And you... don't really answer him.

You stay completely silent, just watching him back and nothing else with an equally sad look, to which Aemond's face becomes more worried and confused than before.

"Y/N, you are one of my priorities," he tells you hurt, "How come you don't believe that now?"

"Yes I do," you clarify sadly, "What I'm saying is that you barely have time for me and I know it's not your fault because I know your job, but..." you let out a long breath, "Not even a single day have we been able to spend together, not a single one."

He instantly tries to speak, opening his mouth to say something, but immediately closes it and struggles to be able to find the right words he wants to say, getting frustrated with himself.

He really doesn't want to tell you again what you've heard before, but he can't find another explanation because that's the only truth.

He shakes his head, letting his sentence hang in the air, watching you with sorrow, sadness and worry, failing to say anything else, as you feel tears begin to form in your eyes, your vision blurring.

"Y/N, I-I...," he looks sad, "I swear to you, if I could do anything, I would, but...

You press your lips together as you don't want to start crying in front of him, you really don't want him to see you like this, but you can't control it and in an instant the tears fall freely down your cheeks as you avert your defeated gaze from Aemond.

"No, no, please don't cry, my love."

He tells you instantly more concerned than before and you quickly bring your hands up to cover your face, completely embarrassed and trying to control yourself.

But you can't as he quickly encloses you in his arms and pulls you into his body in a protective, comforting way, while at the same time leaving soft kisses in your hair, stroking your back gently with one of his large, firm hands.

"Shh, my sweet girl," he says softly and warmly above your head, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

You instantly hug him back too and sink your face deeper into his chest, sniffling your nose and controlling your sobs, really not wanting to cry anymore.

You missed this, completely. You just wish this wasn't happening under these circumstances.

"It's just that I miss you so much," you confess, clinging tighter to him.

And Aemond's heart breaks into pieces, instantly pulling you tighter against him, hating to see you in this state, hating to see you crying and even worse.... that you're crying for him.

"I miss you too baby, all the time," he says softly, "I miss you so much it fucking hurts."

He instantly leaves more soft kisses in your hair, also on your cheek, holding you tighter against him, while you let yourself be held in his arms and continue to cling against him, not wanting to let go and feeling that if you pull away, he will disappear at any moment right in front of you.

But it's only because you're vulnerable.

You don't know how long you both last like that, it must have only been a minute, but it feels like an eternity for both of you, especially for you, finally starting to calm down.

"I'm sorry," you say in a whisper and try to pull away from him a little, lifting one of your hands to wipe away your tears, "I didn't mean to get like this," you confess sadly, "I shouldn't be selfish."

"Hey, no, look at me."

He says in soft tone, placing one of his hands on your chin to lift your face towards him and you do so, watching him with sadness and embarrassment at the same time, as he gently shakes his head in your direction.

"No, it's not like that, you've just been busy having to attend to your wor—

"You're not selfish love," he makes it clear to you, "You're absolutely right. I've been neglecting you and that's not right of me."

"It's still not right," he insists, concerned, "And to be honest, if I were you I'd feel the same way," he confesses, "But I promise I'll do everything in my power to spend time with you, baby."

You shake your head in his direction.

"There are some things you can't control, Aemond."

"No matter, I miss you too, I want to spend time with you and I'll make sure of that."

You close your eyes and bring your forehead to his, both of you sinking into a comforting silence and a moment you haven't had in a long time, where it's just him and you.

He assures you softly and the two of you say nothing more, just stare into each other's eyes for a few moments.

Then he begins to gently trace your cheek with his thumb, attentively and delicately, watching you lovingly, as if he wants to memorize every detail of your face in his mind.

"My beautiful girl," Aemond murmurs fondly, in a low, soft tone.

You smile slightly and lean your face down to kiss his lips, he instantly reciprocates, holding your waist tighter against him as you place your arms around his neck and take complete refuge in him, needing this.

Aemond holds his hand more firmly on your cheek and deepens the kiss, working his way across your lips with his tongue, beginning to explore your mouth and you respond in kind in a slow, deep kiss.

Then you both part with a wet sound of your lips, you again embracing him and sinking your face into his neck, inhaling his cologne that drives you completely crazy and the fresh scent of detergent on his clothes that at the same time comforts you.

And finally everything feels right.

You there in Aemond's arms, this being exactly what you needed along with communication.

However, as the seconds pass with Aemond still holding you and both of you in that comfortable silence, he can't help but begin to feel guilty and remorseful.

At first he thought about not talking to you about this subject, solely so that you wouldn't worry and feel bad because of him, but now that you both have spoken... he can't keep something like this from you and he knows it's the ideal time.

"Love?"

He calls you softly, catching your attention, still both of you clinging in the embrace and the feel of each other's body with each other close.

"Hm?" you murmur, sending a vibration through his chest.

He presses his lips together for a moment, nervous, but no longer able to bear that another minute passes and you still don't know about this.

"There's something... I haven't told you."

And this definitely gets your attention more.

You slowly turn away from his body, instantly Aemond hating the feeling, then raise your gaze to him, watching him intently and all at once realizing that it's not something you'd like to hear.

You know it by the nervous, worried look he's giving you as you both again look at each other.

"What is it?"

He lets out a long breath, looking away from you for a moment, again having this difficulty being able to say the words he wants to say, wanting to explain everything to you gently, thoughtfully and clearly.

"Y/N... I-I... none of this has really been my decision," he tells you honestly, "But... I'm afraid you'll keep seeing me around this woman."

And it's definitely something you didn't like to hear.

Aemond waits attentively for your reaction, while you continue to watch him intently, your lips parted, a little confused, but neutral, this really not bothering you... yet.

"It's all for work Y/N, I know you know that but I don't want you to think otherwise if another news like this happens again," he tells you cautiously and attentively.

"So you'll go out with her again?"

He lets out a long breath.

"The company needs to associate with hers for our investment in an extra capital, since the attempted association with the Martells didn't work out and my grandfather...he asked me to take it over."

You lower your gaze for a moment, pursing your lips, processing the information, understanding perfectly well that this is solely for work and nothing else, but still... you don't like this woman at all.

"But I can keep Eleonor or Criston around if it's not to your liking," he tells you instantly, turning your gaze back to him, "I've even already taken care with our publicists to deny the rumor by saying it's all work between her and me, also we'll already be prepared in case this happens again."

"Aemond, I understand all of this perfectly," you clarify, assuring him with your tone and look, "I totally trust you but... it's her I don't trust and I don't like the way she behaves when she's around you."

He swallows hard, lowering his gaze for a moment, thinking very carefully about the words he will tactfully say to you next, not wanting to upset you.

"Also... my grandfather has suggested that perhaps it would be good and more efficient for us to partner with Riverlands sooner if I will begin to have an... intimate... relationship with her."

You feel a huge sharp pain in your chest, watching in mild surprise at Aemond, definitely not expecting that.

The silence surrounding you both only increases the pain inside you more, the sadness clinging to your heart, as you lower your gaze and part your lips, having your gaze wander to an invisible spot on the ground.

Tears begin to want to flow from your eyes, again, unable to control your overwhelming emotions any longer. As he instantly sees the sadness all over your face, the disbelief as well, beginning to worry you more.

"Of course I told him no, Y/N."

He tells you instantly, anguished and worried, taking your hands in his, but you don't react, at least not yet.

"He wants the media to start making publicity about the two of us, he thinks it will make the whole process easier and faster, that Rivers will be pleased along with her uncle. Even she...she's come on to me before but, but believe me Y/N, I have stopped her and been very clear with her about you and that I'm not the least bit interested."

"But she is interested in you," you tell her in your low, sad tone of voice, "And you won't be able to do much about it if you have to get yourself associated with her company. You'll have to keep seeing her, be in her company and be accessible to her if you want to make it."

"This shouldn't take me too long, love, I promise," he continues to tell you worriedly, wanting to make you understand, "Yes, you will see me with her but I also promise you that everything for me means work."

"But for her and your grandfather it's not only work, Aemond," you tell him a little more serious, just as sad, "She also wants to have you the other way, that's why she behaved with me the way she behaved when she met me."

You know that, totally.

"I know baby, I know," he tells you softly, "But I will never let her disrespect you, in any way."

He assures you firmly, determined.

"I don't care what my grandfather or her wants, neither what the press says about her and me, all I care about is that you understand that everything for me is work and that I would never do anything to hurt you and end everything between us, believe me that's the last thing I want," he tells you honestly, "And I also want you to keep in mind that I only want you."

You know that Aemond wants you, just the same way you want him and he loves you too, you both love each other, you love him with every fiber of your heart.

But it is all this that does not leave you calm, this is what you have never had to go through before and the insecurity along with the uncertainty consumes you as your mind is spinning non-stop, not even having the idea of what to think, with a knot forming in your stomach.

It all becomes more overwhelming and you don't know if you can get through this together, fearing for the future of the perfect relationship you had with him, the man you love.

And Aemond seeing this, just as worried, anxious and sad as you, not liking this at all either, knowing that he is asking too much of you seeing that you are thinking too fast, all the anxiety and stress through your body, instantly comes back to hug you to comfort you.

But he also does it to comfort himself.

His warm embrace feels like a safe haven in the midst of the moment you are going through, his arms wrapping around you gently but with a strength that makes you feel protected and loved, where you find comfort and his familiar fragrance makes you feel at home.

You experience the love and that connection of the two of you that seem to erase any worry or sadness you feel at that moment, also him, finding that primordial emotional support.

"I promise I will do everything in my power to make this all end soon, I promise love."

He assures you along with his gentle caresses on your back, his soothing words whispered in your ear making the outside world disappear and only the two of you exist, united in a loving embrace that makes you feel complete and loved.

And they also make you feel a sense of calm and hope that with your boyfriend's love and support, everything will be okay.

But neither of you knew what awaited you next.

After your conversation with Aemond, there really isn't much change in the relationship.

You tried your best not to think about him and that woman, you tried not to think about the fact that she was probably in the building at a certain time and that the two of them were together, being a thing almost every day that Aemond had to be in her company.

Your job at the coffe shop helped you not to overthink and focus almost one hundred percent on your classes, although in some free hours you had your boyfriend was in your thoughts.

What fortunately changed was that when your classes were over and you got home, he was already there waiting for you, the first night surprising you and making you feel completely happy.

You both were able to enjoy sharing an extended night together, having dinner, talking about everything and finally going to bed, you have also resumed some movie nights and also the nights of intimacy have been more constant.

But other than that... everything remains the same.

You and he haven't really talked about Rivers, you don't bring it up every time the magazines announce that he and she have been seen together again, clearly because the subject has already been discussed, but still, it makes you feel weird and you really don't like seeing those articles.

But you find it exhaustive that you have to talk it over with him again, so exhaustive for both him and you, that you don't want the two of you to end up having a fight afterwards.

So until now... you can just deal with it.

Until one day in a free hour before your last two-hour class starts, when you have your phone in your hand you get a new message and when you read it, it's from Aemond's sister, Helaena.

Hel🦋: hello beautiful!

Hel🦋: omg it has been ages

Hel🦋: I'm sure the event will be less boring with you🤭

Hel🦋: I am so excited to finally see you again on Saturday

Hel🦋: see you soon!

The messages make you smile and make you start to feel a warmth run through your chest, you too have been missing Hel for a while now as she works at Highgarden as well in a company expansion on her father's.

You haven't seen her for months and clearly communication by message doesn't happen much as both of you, especially her, are just as busy as Aemond.

But the smile doesn't last long on your face as you had no idea about this event, since you know what event it is, only that Aemond hasn't told you about it.

They are one of the typical important events where all the relevant businessmen attend, where they announce new innovations, where they make partners and where basically everyone allies with everyone.

When you get home, this time you are the one who arrives first and although you tried to control yourself by not asking him anything right away, you can't hold back anymore and that's what you do after he gets home from work.

Since you and Aemond started your relationship, you have always accompanied him to these events.

And especially at this one, since it's organized by his family, but you didn't know it would certainly happen because he didn't tell you anything.

And honestly he looks surprised when you ask him why he hadn't told you about the event, not expecting that, this getting your attention and instantly you know the reason isn't good and you're not going to like hearing it.

"I did wanted to tell you because I know we always go together, love" he says to you with some regret, "But now Rivers will be there an—

"You're going with her?"

You just ask him, all starting to form in your mind, while he doesn't say anything back right away and just stares at you uncertainly for a few moments and the realization starts to become more apparent to you.

"Your grandfather told you to take her as your companion?" you ask him more specifically now, watching him intently, waiting for his answer.

And you begin to see perfectly well how he starts to get frustrated.

"Yes but I told him I wouldn't do that," he clarifies instantly, looking at you worried and honest, "That's why I decided better to go on my own if everyone will be there."

You frown slightly at him.

"And what's wrong with me going with you?"

He doesn't answer, watches you for a few moments still with sorrow in his gaze, then lowers his head, staring at the ground as he lets out a long breath and runs a hand over his face.

Then you answer your own question, understanding him.

"You don't want to take me because everyone will be there and your grandfather won't be pleased to see me with you when you should have taken her with you?"

"Love, listen," he tells you immediately, walking towards you, "It's more than that, okay?" he says attentively and distressed, "I just thought that it wouldn't be comfortable for you to go with me to that place if she will be there—

"Everyone is talking about her and you," you tell him with your most serious tone, interrupting him, "Everyone will expect her and you to go together and of course your grandfather won't be happy to see me coming with you, why don't you tell me that?"

"Okay, yes, you are right, but I don't want to go with her, I want to go with you, I have always gone with you," he says in clarification, "But on this occasion I don't think it will be necessary, besides it won't be comfortable for you."

You let out a snort.

"Do you think I won't be able to handle it?"

"No, I mean, of course you can," he tells you instantly, "But you know her, she's very reckless and I don't want us to have a fight after that."

"Then do we put a limit on her, like you have done all this time with her or not?" you ask expectantly.

"Yes, of course I have put limits on her, but in that place..." he pauses, frustrated, "There will be a lot of people, our partners, my family and the press will always be watching, everything will be three times too much. Besides I'll have to attend an announcement along with her and all eyes will be on her and me and I don't want you to feel bad."

You let out a breath, turning your gaze away from him, feeling discomfort in your body, starting to walk away from him to go to your room.

"Okay, I get it, you don't want me to go with you, just say so."

And he reacts instantly.

"Hey, no, no, no, I didn't say that," he says worriedly, stopping you and placing himself in front of you, looking at you pleadingly, "Baby, please."

You let out a long breath, closing your eyes for a moment.

"It's just that you're treating me like I don't know this... your whole world, like I haven't gone to these events with you before," you tell him sadly, "Your grandfather knows we're together and yet he's asking you for this kind of thing... like as if I were a nuisance and at the same time like if I don't exist. And it's been like that ever since she—

You stop, not wanting to say anything else, feeling the lump in your throat and how tears begin to form in your eyes, bringing your hands instantly to your face, not wanting to cry now and feel bad, telling yourself that you're overreacting.

But all of this is really how you feel and you can't help it. And mostly you don't want to show your true feelings or speak your thoughts so as not to overwhelm him.

But just as you understand him, he understands you too.

"Fuck no, please don't cry baby, I hate to see you cry."

He tells you to then wrap you in a warm, firm embrace, holding you tight against his chest where he instantly feels all the tension through your body and pulls you tighter against him, wanting to protect you from everything that hurts you at that moment.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, love."

He tells you in low murmurs as he gently strokes your hair and you let out more of your tears, clinging completely to him.

"No, it's not your fault," you tell him sadly, sobbing softly against his chest.

He lets out a sigh.

"Yes it is," he says softly, "You don't deserve any of this."

He leaves a soft kiss in your hair, still hugging you and having no intention of letting you go, while you let yourself be carried away by the comforting warmth of his body, wanting to keep feeling that familiarity and security that only he can give you, in spite of everything.

"I know things have been hard lately and I'm so sorry, but... I love you and I care about you, you mean the whole world to me."

"I know babe," you murmur back, "I love you too and I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get like this."

"No, no, it's okay love," he assures you, "We're going to get through this, just like we always have, remember?"

You nod your head even though you have it resting against his chest, then sniffle your nose and raise one of your hands to wipe away your tears, as he pulls away from you a little so he can look into your eyes and leave a soft kiss on your lips which you instantly reciprocate, again taking refuge in his arms.

Both of you at that moment feel vulnerable and lost for a moment in the uncertainty of the situation, but you knew you had to face whatever it was together.

Aemond feels in control of the relationship, but you feel more at a crossroads because of the uncertain future of the relationship itself.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x oc #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond

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junkdrawerfics · 5 months

Note

hiya! could you write a jasper fic where the reader meets the major? i'm obsessed with how you write for jasper 🥺

A Major Moment

Summary: Takes place in Breaking Dawn, when all the covens show up to be witnesses for the Cullens. Jasper is worried about you being around so many vampires, especially when he starts to feel like he's losing control. When an incident does occur, the Major steps in to save the day. But you have no clue what's happening.

Words: 2456

Note: I'm alive! And writing again. This work gave me so much trouble before I took my break, but I'm pretty happy with it! I hope you like it, thank you for the request!

---

“I don’t like you bein’ here,” Jasper murmurs stiffly, leaning against the doorway to your shared room.

“I know, Jazz, but I’m worried about what’ll happen if I’m not here.” You pull on your coat, turning to meet his concerned gaze. It makes you soften and you give him a gentle smile, “You think I haven’t noticed how tense you’ve been lately, huh mister?”

Jasper’s lips press into a thin line, a wrinkle forming between his brows. Of course you noticed.

It started the moment Alice had the vision of the Volturi coming for their family. He felt it, in the back of his mind. That slight pull. The need to feel in control. Him.

Jasper was used to it. He had plenty of practice holding him back, only letting the edges fray enough to help. Like when they fought the newborn army, or when the two of you and Alice had fled with Bella from the hunter. He could control it. He had to.

You were never meant to meet that part of him, the one with stained hands and war-driven convictions. You were too soft for that side of him, too…breakable. So Jasper did everything in his power to keep him out of it, locked away deep in the recesses of his mind.

But then their allies started to appear and something shifted. The pull turned into a dull pressure in his chest, like a beast pressing at the bars of its cage. Snarling, vicious, protective. He could feel it as he watched you interact with them, oblivious to the danger, the hunger he could feel radiating from all of them. It set his teeth grinding.

“You shouldn’t trust ‘em, darlin,” the blond warns you, voice almost a growl.

“They’re our allies, Jazz,” you remind him softly, curling your arms around his waist. The vampire is tense, tenser than usual. You prop your chin against his chest, wide eyes squinting. “Plus I have you. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but they’re all pretty intimidated by you. They won’t try anything.”

That does give him a strange sense of satisfaction. While he considers most of these people friends, he knows that he won’t be able to control himself if one of them touches you. The family had made it clear. You’re off limits. Every human in Forks is off limits. Still-

“Hey.” You pinch his ribs, making Jasper jump. Those gold eyes flicker back down to you questioningly. You shake your head, giggling, “Stop worrying! I’m fine, they’re fine, everything will turn out okay. You can relax, Jazz, I’m safe.”

The stiffness lasts for only a few moments before Jasper gives in and leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. He’s always had trouble resisting you, especially when you radiate such warmth. There’s no doubt, no hesitation in your emotions. Just complete and utter certainty in him.

The beast goes quiet, if only for a moment.

A moment that disappears as soon as you join the covens downstairs.

The room is tense, filled with quiet, murmured conversations. They’re all on edge. Though they were all asked to come only to be witnesses before the Volturi, the expectation of a battle still hangs over the house.

You flicker among them, sparking conversation, making jokes, trying to just lighten the mood. It’s the least you can do to help. And this way you don’t feel so useless. If it does come down to a fight, that is exactly what you’ll be. You’re only human after all.

Jasper lingers along the wall, never taking his eyes off of you.

It’s in moments like this he wishes he could turn his ability off. Every anxiety, every twitch of impatience, the collection of unspoken concern, he feels it all. It’s like walking through a fog so thick you can barely see. It's suffocating.

And he can feel him again. Prowling along the edges of his mind. Looking for just the right moment to-

A sharp gasp makes Jasper flinch. The smell of blood, your blood, hits him, and for a split second, his focus falters.

Enough for his control to slip.

---

You can barely process it.

One moment, you’re clutching your bleeding hand to your chest, fear freezing you to the ground as you watch a man lunge for you, teeth bared in a snarl.

The next moment, that same man is crashing through the wall of windows, the sound of shattering glass ringing through the air. The whole room goes dead silent.

Jasper stands in his place, drawing back to his full height, face a mask of impassivity, eyes alight with a rage that makes everyone recoil. It pours off of him, fills the room like the static before the storm.

Your breath freezes in your lungs when he turns to you. It feels like one wrong move could set him off. On what? You don’t know. But you stay stock still as his eyes trace over you slowly. They catch on the blood oozing out between your fingers, the ones you desperately press against your wound. Something dark flashes across his face, his jaw clenching.

“Upstairs.”

Your heart lurches to your throat, wariness and confusion flooding your chest. His voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it, accent thicker. An alarm goes off in your head.

When you don’t move, though, Jasper reaches for your arm, grip just shy of bruising.

“I said - upstairs.”

Before you can even get a word out, he’s dragging you in that direction, so fast you can barely keep up without stumbling. Glancing to the Cullens, you silently beg for some kind of help. You have no clue what’s going on. But the family just watches on as if they’ve seen this all before. Except Bella, who looks just as confused as you feel.

Your attention is forced back to staying upright when you reach the stairs. Jasper doesn’t slow down for even a second, not until you reach your room and he practically throws you inside. In an instant, you’re backed against a wall, his tall frame eclipsing yours.

“Show me,” he demands, voice low, barely restrained.

“What?” You squeak, eyes wide, heart racing. Something’s wrong.

“Show me your hand.”

You tighten your hold unconsciously. Panic grips you like a noose around your lungs.

“I don’t- I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jazz,” you croak out. There’s too much blood.

Jasper’s eyes narrow, “And I don’t appreciate repeatin’ myself, sugar.”

“But-”

“Now.”

Flinching, you instantly offer him your hand. Even if it’s a bad idea, you don’t want to test this side of him. Something tells you that he could force you to if he wanted to and this is him being nice.

You hold your breath when he takes your wrist, waiting for whatever’s going to happen next. Jasper’s never had an easy time controlling himself around your blood. You’ve worked on it, but this is too much, too sudden and you can’t help but brace for more pain.

But the seconds tick by and…nothing. You peek an eye open slowly. The blond moves with practiced ease, checking your pulse, carefully examining the edges of the gash, as if the blood isn’t even there.

Something’s different. Everything’s different. How he holds himself, the way he dragged you up here, his voice. And his eyes. It’s hard to not stare at them. Their usual gold depths are dark as amber, still burning with something completely violent, bloody and crimson and unnervingly calm.

You’ve never once seen Jasper like this.

“What’s going on Jazz?” You ask, voice pitching up.

The vampire pauses, hard gaze flickering up to yours. You almost flinch, instincts screaming at you that being at the center of this man’s attention is dangerous. It feels like any moment that rage could turn on you, like a wolf, bloody maw ready to clamp around your neck.

“Are you scared, darlin’?” His voice is a low rumble, softer than before, but still rough, dark.

Swallowing thickly, you look down at your hands, head spinning. He quickly covers the cut on your palm, careful not to touch it, but keeping it from your eyes, as if he knows the sight of blood makes you dizzy. It’s at odds with everything else about him right now and it makes you think that your Jasper must still be there somewhere. The worst of your nerves fizzle out.

“I don’t know,” you whisper eventually, and his eyes narrow, “I don’t- I don’t understand what’s going on, or why you’re acting different, but I don’t think you’re trying to scare me. So..so, no, I don’t want to be.”

The man hums, lips pursing into a thin line as he goes back to examining your palm, “No tellin’ if that’s foolishness or courage.”

“Maybe both.” Your voice is still shaking. Taking a deep breath, you try again with a different question, “So who are you? Cause I don’t think you’re Jasper, at least not completely.”

He doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, you watch as he steps back, disappearing into the bathroom for only a moment before reappearing with your first aid kit, the one you keep here for emergencies. With that same, practiced ease, the blond pulls out the supplies he needs and starts cleaning your wound.

“Most call me Major Whitlock.”

You hiss as he swipes alcohol over the cut. It stings almost as much as the wound itself, scattering your thoughts. The Major mumbles an apology, but doesn’t pause in his movements. It’s methodical, how he cleans it, applies some ointment, and then bandages it. Like he’s done it be-

Oh.

His words finally process in your mind. Major Whitlock. Jasper told you about him once, back when you first asked him about his scars. The man he was before you, before the Cullens. The man he had to be to deal with all that death. The Major.

“I never thought I’d meet you,” you murmur, all but forgetting your apprehension in the wave of curiosity that washes over you.

“He never wanted you to,” the Major replies stiffly, taping off the wrap, “He’s scared I’ll hurt you.”

Brow furrowing, you glance down at your bandaged hand. It’s perfectly done and you can barely feel any more pain. Thanks to him.

“I can’t see why he’d think that,” you hum, head tilting, “You don’t seem all that dangerous to me.”

Wrong thing to say.

A sharp, unexpected tug on your wrist makes you squeak. The Major draws you flush to his chest, close enough that you can see the flecks of molten gold in his eyes and feel his cool breath against your face. It makes you freeze, hands trapped between your bodies, unable to do anything as he leans down, lips tauntingly close to yours.

“You shouldn’t be so naive, sugar,” he drawls, voice a low rasp. “You wouldn’t think so kindly of me if you knew what’s goin’ through my mind.”

Like how he wishes he had ripped the arms off the man downstairs for even thinking about touching you. Or how the scent of your blood makes him want to pin you against the wall and sink his teeth into your neck. He wants to know if you taste as cloyingly sweet as you smell.

“I’m still not scared of you,” you whisper, blinking up at him with wide, doe-ish eyes, cheeks painted a tempting shade of red. “I know you won’t hurt me, Major.”

You trust him. He can feel it radiating from you, soft and warm and simple. It makes something violently possessive curl in the Major’s chest. You were right, after all. He would do anything to protect you, like a feral dog at your heel - loyal even if it killed him. He and Jasper could agree on that, as much as he might not want to admit it.

“You really are somethin’, sugar,” he muses, grip softening. There was no point in trying to scare you any further. You were a stubbornly sweet thing.

You offer him a shy smile, “Thank you. And thanks for saving me.”

The Major nods. “It was my pleasure.”

He pauses, lips pursing. You watch as his gaze flickers over your face, something you can't pinpoint crossing his features. Then-

“Can I kiss you, sugar?”

You almost laugh. It’s a ridiculous question at this point, but it’s just so Jasper that you can’t help but grin. Guess he’s always been like this.

“If you want,” you hum.

And he does.

It’s not like any of the kisses you’ve shared before, not soft or gentle. Jasper has always been too scared of hurting you, but the Major holds onto you like a starving man. He pulls you impossibly closer, fingers threading through your hair to tilt your head just the right way. It’s hard and insistent but still achingly tender and perfect.

You’re left breathless when he pulls away. Not too far though. He rests his forehead against yours, taking the moment to focus on the sound of your heart and the comforting warmth of your touch. It softens the snarling creature that he’s meant to be.

You can feel the shift. The way his touch turns gentle, hands shifting to hold your jaw, thumb brushing over your cheeks. You can practically feel the concern that fills his gaze.

“Hey Jazz,” you breathe out softly.

He doesn’t respond. You glance up at him, amusement flickering in your chest at the perplexed look on his face. There’s your Jasper.

“I’m fine, Jazz,” you insist. It’s easy to tell exactly what he’s thinking. The vampire frowns, glancing at the bandage covering your hand. Right. You correct yourself, “I’m fine now. The Major saved me and bandaged me up. Good as new.”

You wiggle your fingers, just to show him. It stings a little, but not nearly as much as before.

“He did a good job, almost as good as Carlisle!”

“He-” Jasper stops, swallows. “I didn’t hurt you?”

“No. Nothing happened.” You wrap your arms around his waist. It’s just like before. He holds himself stiff for a moment, fighting between the urge to relax or push you away to a safe distance. But he still can’t resist you. Not now. Not ever.

The tension drips from his shoulders. Jasper curls an arm around you, voice muffled as he tucks his face into your hair, “Sorry if I scared you, darlin’. I should’ve known that would happen. I just want you safe.”

“I know,” you hum, “And I wasn’t scared. Not really. Though, the Major sure has his own way of doing things. Charming guy, really.”

You can feel Jasper smile into your hair, “You really are something, darlin.”

“That’s what he said!”

---

You cannot convince me that the Major is not still a gentleman at his core! He's a bit rough from his time with Maria, but he was such a kind man before that. I will die on this hill.

Anyways! Hope you guys liked it! I might be a bit rusty, but feel free to send in requests! I'm excited to write for y'all again.

#reader insert #x reader #reader #jasper hale #jasper whitlock #twilight saga #twilight #jasper hale x reader #jasper whitlock x reader #jasper x reader #the major #the major x reader #i will die on this hill #he's rough but he's a gentleman #i love the major so much

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hwangswhore · 5 months

Text

•B A C K S T A G E•

pairing: hyunjin x f!reader

genre: smut (mdni‼️)

desc: after not seeing you for months due to touring, hyunjin finally gets to have his way with you when you show up to the final show in seoul.

content: established relationship, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected piv (pls be safe), dirty talking, pet names, risky public sex, idk I think that’s it ?

auth. note: requested by my friend ;) enjoy !

Hyunjin was frustrated.

Sexually frustrated.

It was his first tour since you two started dating, so he knew it would be difficult, but he wasn’t prepared for how much he craved your presence. Hyunjin has always been an introvert, always comfortable being in his own presence. However, since being away from you, he has been nothing but a lonely mess.

He’s never really had anything to miss so much before. Sure, he has his family, and he does miss them, but it’s just different. He has Kkami, but Kkami doesn’t miss him back so it’s pretty one sided.

He doesn’t really have many close friends outside of the band members and staff. Not because he doesn’t want to, but it just never really happened. Since debuting, he never really went out of his way to go meet new people. He doesn’t really trust many people, anyways.

But then he met you.

It was painfully organic, like something out of those romance films he spent way too many hours watching. He had some time off due to some minor injuries he sustained in a car accident. The company made him stay home so he could rest.

But Hyunjin didn’t want to rest. He wanted to spend this time doing something he enjoyed. So he painted a few pieces, caught up on his favorite dramas, and even learned how to make his own iced americanos from home.

That fateful evening, he chose to spend his day at an art museum. he was touring the exhibits, admiring the artwork, when he heard a subtle gasp next to him. Turning his head in your direction, he saw you standing there, mouth agape, staring at the painting ahead of you.

He saw your eyes quickly fill with tears as you raised your phone up to take a phone of the painting. He debated interrupting your moment as you were clearly emotionally affected by this piece, but he was also painfully curious as to the story behind your reaction.

So he did something so out of character; he started a conversation with you.

You explained to him the reason behind your connection to that piece, and the two of you ended up touring the rest of the exhibit afterwards. He would have felt uneasy, fearing you were a stalker trying to get his attention, but he quickly learned that you had just moved to Korea for your job, which solidified the safe feeling he felt around you.

And he’s felt that same safeness ever since.

You two have been officially together now for 8 months, and maybe it’s just the honeymoon phase, but Hyunjin isn’t a believer in that. He believes when you’re in love, you stay in love forever. Which is why he’s certain he will never grow tired of you.

What he is tired of, in this particular moment, is how needy he feels all the time.

It isn’t something he’s used to. Hyunjin has gotten used to being alone for years, taking care of himself when he’s horny, not having anyone’s face in mind when he touches himself, just fully focused on his pleasure.

But that isn’t the case anymore. The only thing that gets him worked up is the thought of you. He can’t cum unless he imagines your face. He feels so empty afterwards without you to snuggle with. He craves you every second.

And this second is no different.

Hyunjin is currently performing the last show in Seoul. He knew you’d be here tonight, you always come to the shows they play in Korea. He was so excited to see you again, it had been too long since he last held you.

However, that was the last thing on his mind right now as he looked at you in the front row of the crowd. You smiled up at him and sent him a heart. He has to resist the urge to send one back to you, too afraid of exposing your relationship. But he just couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. You wore his favorite top, the one that hugs your cute tits so well, as well as that cute skirt he likes to fuck you in. Oh, you definitely knew what you were doing.

And Hyunjin would give you exactly what you were asking for.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

You’re currently pinned against a dressing room wall with your hands pinned behind your back, exactly how you planned it.

When all you did was moan in response, Hyunjin slapped your ass and brought his lips to your ear, whispering, “oh, you wanna be quiet now? wanna act like you didn’t wear this just to get me riled up?” He roughly grabs your top and pulls it off of you before one hand starts grabbing at your tits. “Well you’re gonna get exactly what you asked for.” He doesn’t bother taking your skirt off, just lifts it up to find you wearing those crotchless panties he loves so much.

The sound he let out was almost animalistic, his fingers immediately plunging into your hole that was already so wet for him. You moaned loudly, not caring who could hear, as you tried to wiggle one of your hands out of the grip he had on your wrist. He complied, letting you free so you could raise a hand up and run it through his hair. Hyunjin was a sucker for scalp messages, his eyes fluttering shut at the sensation while he continued to finger you.

“Missed you so much baby…”he says in between kisses to your neck. “Did you miss me too?” You nodded fervently, trying to fuck yourself back into his fingers while your lips searched for his. The two of you made out sloppily for a while before he pulled away and removed his fingers

You wiggled your hips desperately which made him giggle. You smiled. Even when he was trying to be hard and dominate, his sweet personality always came through. Your sweet boy was always there.

“Gonna let everyone hear how much you missed me angel?” Without time to answer, he thrusted his cock inside you all in one go. Your hands gripped the walls as you tried with every ounce of strength you had to keep quiet, letting out breathy moans here and there.

Hyunjin, however, was proudly letting everyone hear how much he missed his baby, letting out the most ethereal moans and grunts the human ear could ever hear. He set a perfect pace, angling his hips upward to hit your spot perfectly.

You couldn’t take it anymore, writhing and whining as he fucked you so perfectly, hitting your spot with precision and strength. You moaned out his name, trying to warn him you were close. He put his mouth right up to your ear, whispering. “Yeah? Gonna make a mess for the staff to clean up? Gonna let everyone know what we did in here? So filthy…” he spat, making you clench impossible tight on his length, making his rhythm falter from pleasure.

With one last long, drawn out whine of his name, you came all over his length, your cum dripping down his balls and on to the floor. He hissed at the sight and sensation, working you through your orgasm before pulling out.

“Knees, now.” He snapped his fingers towards the ground, which you were immediately knelt on. He brought his tip to your mouth. “Suck.” You obeyed, sucking his mushroom tip while he stroked the rest of his length in his hand. “Fucking cumming…fuck..fuuuuuuck.” With a deep, drawn out groan of profanities, he shot his thick warm load into your mouth, which you happily took all of before swallowing.

He brought a hand to your cheek and held your face while looking down at you with hooded eyes and staggered breaths. “So good…I love you so fucking much. Come here.” He pulled you up and immediately brought you in for a sweet kiss, moaning at the taste of both of your arousals.

After getting cleaned up and dressed, you both stepped out of the dressing room, hair and absolute wreck and faces flushed from your post orgasm glow. It was obvious to everyone what you two just did, and quite frankly, you were too spent to care.

Walking down the hall, you passed by Lee Know, who gave you both a clearly sarcastic smile, saying “Hey! Try being louder next time!” Before switching to a blank expression and walking past you. Hyunjin chuckled, before turning to you with a tired, sweet smile.

“So..dinner?”

🖤💋

#hwang hyujin imagines #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin smut #hyunjinsmut #skz smut #stray kids smut #hyunjins #skzsmut #kpop smut #kpop #established relationship

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lovingmattysposts · 4 months

Text

You don't know me 9

P1 P2 P4 P5 P6 P7 P8 P10 P11 P12 P13 P14 P15 P16 P17 P18 P19 P20 P21 P22 P23 P24 P25 P26 P27 P28 P29 P30 P31 P32

pairing: y/n and chris sturniolo

summary: you and chris came from two different sides of the spectrum when it came to the social scale. You had the perfect life, the perfect boyfriend, the perfect parents, but when you start to peal back that layers things got messy. Your life was set and stone, your future was set and stone. That was until he comes and changes everything.

warnings: mentions of a VERYYYYY toxic relationship!! There is a scene where Max grabs y/n’s wrist in a not so friendly way, but nothing progresses past that, if that bothers you pls skip that part!!!

Chris pov

"Mate are you alright?" Nate asked from beside me. I didn't look over at him, I just kept my hands gripped on the steering wheel and my eyes on the road. "Fine why" I said blankly. "You've barley said two words since we got in the car. I think I should get the title of being the angry one. We just lost regionals" Nate said looking at me.

I bit my lip, not responding. "Does it have something to do with you sitting with twinkle toes?" He asked after a few seconds. I looked over at him, glaring hard. His eyes widened. "Okay, not in the joking mood" He sighed leaning back.

"I thought I told you to stop calling her names like that" I said blankly. "What's got your panties in a twist mate?" He asked. I let out a deep breath. "She said she'd wished I'd leaned forward and I didn't" I stated. Nate went silent for a few seconds.

"What?" He asked causiosly. I sighed and looked over at him. "She said she'd wished I'd leaned forward and I didn't!" I said again. Nate just looked at me. "She says shit like that then she's walking off to find him" I said leaning back in my seat.

"So this is about the boyfriend?" Nate asked raising his eyebrows. "Yes” I snapped looking at him. “No" I sighed. "I don't know" I said shaking my head. Nate hummed. "So you actually like this girl don't you?" Nate asked smiling. I let out a breath. Sufficatingly yes. "No" I said with a straight face.

"I'm done talking about it" I said before he could respond. Nate sighed and leaned agaisnt the window. "Alright buddy" He sighed shaking his head, while my mind raced with a million thoughts.

Was that it? We will ever speak again after that? Does she want to stop seeing each other? Because I sure as hell don't, even though that's what I made it seem like. I sighed and leaned my head agaisnt the headrest.

y/n pov

I dropped my bag down by my feet as we walked into my room. I felt Max's hands come around me and kiss the side of my face as he kicked the door to my room closed. I turned my head, my stomach hurting from the guilt of Chris's words ringing in my head. The thoughts pouring through his head, was eating me alive.

I had feelings for him. I knew I did. That's why I needed to do this. I needed to create distance to resist temptation. I wasn't a cheater. I was not a cheater. I loved Max. But I didn't know about Max's past. I didn't know what he thought about. He didn't speak to me like Chris spoke to me. It wasn't fair. How was I suppose to end up with someone who I can't even have a simple conversation with about real life things? I felt more like myself with Chris than anyone else. I didn't want to lose him, but I had to.

Chris was better than me in every way, shape, and form. He deserved someone who wasn't like me. Someone who didn't have their whole life planned ahead of them. Someone who had a chance with a life with him. I didn't. I didn't have that and it wasn't fair to him or Max to look at him and pretend that I did have that. Because I didn't I never would. And I'm just now starting to realize that.

At every family dinner, every vacation, every event for the rest of my life--It would be with Max. While he took over my family business, holding my hand under the table as he spoke to important people with important thought, but never had a clue what was going on with me. He would never know, because he never asked. I'd be on a display case to him, just as my mother is to my father.

And that was my life. That's what it's always meant to be and I couldn't change that.

Max dipped his head further into my neck, biting marks. I pulled away from him. He furrowed his eyebrows as me as I walked over to my bed. "You need to shower" I stated looking away from him. He sighed and put his hands on his hip. "Babe come on, I just spent the entire day driving." He groaned. I looked over at him. Was I his mother? Convincing him to shower like he was an incompetent child?

"So that means you're gonna sleep in my bed all gross and sweaty?" I asked looking him. He glared at me. "Why are you talking to me like that?" He snapped looking at me. I stared at him, suddenly feeling my confidence dwindle beneath me.

"No seriously. What the fuck is up with you lately? I feel like you've just turned into a completely different person" He said walking up to me. I stared at the ground, looking away from his hard gaze.

"I'm sorry, I'm not meaning to--I just--" I almost whispered looking down at his feet. I glanced up at him. "I'm sorry about your game. I'm just tired, I didn't mean to take it out on you Max" I breathed looking at him. He let out a breath before stepping back shaking his head. I stepped forward. "Max, I really am sorry" I whispered. He clenched his jaw.

"You know-" He stated looking at me. "If I wanted my girlfriend to talk back to me, I would have dated Sydney" He glared at me. I just looked at him, horrible silence filling the air between us. "Yeah you just like me because I just sit here and take it right?" I mumbled under my breath. His head snapped to me.

"What did you say?" He asked stepping towards me. I looked up at him, his jaw hard as he stared at me. "Nothing Max. I said nothing" I said looking at him and attempting to walk past him, but he grabbed my wrist hard. I winced holding my arm up that his hand had a hard grip on. "Max" I breathed, fear filling my eyes as I looked up at him. "I asked you what you said" His eyes dark as he stared down at me. My heart was beating out of my chest. I fell slightly, attempting to pull myself out from his grip. I swallowed tears burning at the corner of my eyes.

"Max, you're hurting me" My voice broke as I looked up at him. He let out a hard breath before pushing me away from him, releasing his grip from me. I put my hand over my wrist as I looked up at a boy I barely recongized. He shook his head at me before walking over to my bathroom door. "I'm showering" He mumbled before turning around and looking at me.

"Fix that attitude before I get out" He said pointing at me. I swallowed as I looked at him and he turned pushing the door open and slamming it behind him, making me flinch. I looked down at my wrist, that was red. I rubbed my hand over it, as tears pooled at my eyes. I closed my eyes attempting to take in a breath.

"I like being your friend Y/n"

Chris's voice rang in my head.

I looked around and the only sounds were the sounds of leaves crushing beneath our feet as we walked.I heard a sound behind us and I grabbed Chris's arm with my other hand and pulled him close to me as we walked.

Memories flooding my brain.

I reached up wiping my eyes as I heard the shower turn on. I glanced towards the bathroom. It was nice imagining what life would be like with Chris. Really. It's what kept me awake at night. But it wasn't my life to have no matter how much I wanted it. I was too scared to break up with Max and my parent's would never forgive me. It was a lose-lose. But the more I thought about it. Would it be such a lose-lose if I had Chris? That I wasn't sure.

I looked away from the bathroom before changing into pajamas and wiping off my makeup, before crawling under my covers, not even bothering brushing my teeth. The faint taste of the green skittles still present across my teeth. I took in a breath as I laid against my pillows. Imagining it wasn't Max who was showering in my bathroom, but Chris instead.

Because like I said the only time I never felt guilty about Chris is when I thought of him in my own mind. My own thoughts. No one could read them. No one could guess them. They were only mine. One of the few things in the world that were exclusively mine.

I was almost asleep when I heard the shower turn off and Max step out into my room. I didn't move, I didn't open my eyes, I didn't do anything to indicate that I was awake. I heard him shifting through my drawers, many of his clothes in there for when he did spend the night. I just listened as I stared through my window as he changed. Wanting to jump out of the window, down my tree and run for dear life towards Chris's house.

But I couldn’t. That was it for us and I would do exactly what he expected of me.

“Don’t act like I’m not the one you don’t run to when shit gets bad for you”

I swallowed and closed my eyes.

I felt the cover being pulled up before Max slid in next to me, sighing. He wrapped his arms around me before kissing the side of my face. I didn't react.

"Are you sleeping baby?" He whispered quietly against my ear. I hummed. He ran his hand down my arm before sighing. "I'm sorry I got angry with you" He whispered. I didn’t say anything. He kissed my shoulder and laid his head against it.

"Have you thought any more about formal king and queen? My mom's been asking" He whispered. I just blinked in front of me, seeing the branches of my tree blowing in the wind.

"No" I whispered. He sighed wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me against him. "Okay, well can you think on it?" He asked. I nodded, still staring out the window. He kissed the top of my head.

"I love you" He whispered. I swallowed, the burning coming back to my eyes. "I love you" I whispered back. He sighed pulling me even closer to him and holding me tightly.

I sat in the cafeteria at school. Sydney in front of me as she talked loudly to those around us. I stared forward, my eyes droopy, my face bare with no makeup, my hair frizzy. If I'm being honest I looked like shit. Cayden told me more than once today.

I couldn't find the energy to care. To care about how I looked or care about anything else. Because I didn't have Chris and it was my fault. I told him I needed distance because I wanted to be a good girlfriend. I thought that was being a good girlfriend, but now I felt more alone that I ever had to begin with even before Chris.

It's weird going your whole life not really realizing you had no one to talk to about your thoughts until you have it and you push it away. I guess it was my fault. I keep telling myself that I wasn't good for Chris away. He deserved someone better than me, but selfishly, I wanted to take him all for myself.

We hadn't spoken in almost a week and I felt like I had so many things to say and no one to talk to. Even with people surrounding me. It also didn't help that I had a perfect view of Nate and Chris. There had been moments of us running into each other in the hallway and then quickly turning away without speaking, looking at each other in the parking lot, even seeing him at one of Max's hockey practices. I couldn't even look at him and I hated myself for it. I missed my friend.

Forcing my eyes away from them, but that only helped for a few seconds before my eyes trailed to him again. He stared down at the table tapping his fingers as Nate spoke. His eyes moved up to meet mine. We just looked at each other for a second. Just a blank stare.

"Y/n"

Sydney's voice caught my attention. I looked over at her, raising my eyebrows. "Are you okay?" She said scanning my face. I nodded looking down at the plate in front of me, moving the food around me, not eating it. "Yeah" I whispered glancing up at her. She narrowed her eyes at me and then looked over at Max beside me. Max sighed before looking down at me and kissing the side of my face. I didn't react, my face straight as I stared at the table.

"Cheer up babe, do you feel sick?" He asked wrapping his arm around me. I looked up at him. "Yeah, a little" I whispered looking at him. "Go home, get some rest. I'll come over later to bring you some food. Sound good?" He smiled down at me. I nodded slowly before reaching down and grabbing my bag.

I maybe just needed some time alone to process everything. Breakups suck yeah, but friendship breakups almost hurt worse, especially one with Chris. Because now I feel like I had no one.

I pushed through the doors of the school, my backpack half-way hanging off my body as I hugged myself with my arms. I stared down at my feet. I didn't know how much longer I could do this before I broke. I missed him.

The thing about Chris is that he had Nate, he didn't need me. He had a perfectly good friend to listen to everything he thought about with no judgement whatsoever. I didn't. It wasn't fair. It was more of a loss for me to lose him and I still pushed him away. I sighed as I continued down the sidewalk, towards my house.

"Hey"

I jumped out of my skin from the noise of someone speaking. I hadn't even heard anyone walk up to me. I turned seeing Chris's blue eyes staring back at me wide. "Sorry I didn't mean to scare you" He said holding out his hands. I just blinked at him, slightly frozen as he stared down at me. I wish he would stop doing that.

He didn't seem angry anymore. The expression he wore was a little more worried than angry, which I didn't expect. With his reputation I expected him to be angry at me forever. He blinked down at me and I still didn't speak.

"You haven't been at my house in a few days" He stated looking down at me. I just looked at him my eyes trailing down his features all the way down to the lip ring that I missed so much.

I wanted to say everything, but instead I stood there and said nothing. I think i've said enough words the past week to count on two hands. Without Chris, I really didn't have anything to say. I was back to sitting there and nodding, agreeing, listening. And I fucking hated it.

"I guess I didn't think you were serious about the distance thing" He said taking in a breath due to my lack of response. I looked down at my shoes. I didn't either. These past few days have been hell. "But anyways-" he said making me look back up at him.

"Are you--" He paused looking at me. "Doing okay?" He almost whispered, as If he didn't know what to say next. I shrugged looking at him. "Yeah" I breathed. His eyes scanned my face, down to my outfit. "Are you..sure?" He asked obviously referring to my appearance. I swallowed turning my head to the side. Like I hadn't gotten enough shit from my boyfriend and my friends from how i've been looking lately.

I scoffed feeling tears come to my eyes.

"I get it Chris okay? I looked like shit" I said glaring up at him. He just watched me. "Someone write it on the damn skyline Y/n Labraut didn't curl her hair today or wear any makeup" I spat shaking my head, stepping back. "And oh god! Are those sweatpants?" I gasped as I looked down at the sweatpants I was wearing. He just let his fallen face stare back at me.

"I get enough shit from Max for not being perfect. I don't need you to remind me too Chris" I said shaking my head. He stepped forward. "You know that's not what I meant Y/n" He explained softly. I pursed my lips and shook my head. "Poor little y/n right?" I whispered narrowing my eyes at him.

"Her life's turned to shit and you expected me to run back to you huh?" I asked shaking my head. "Well maybe you were right" I mumbled. "I don't wanna be who everyone expect me to be" I said turning on my feet and walking away from him. But I heard his feet quickly behind me, then running back up next to me.

I ignored him and kept walking as he matched my pace and walked beside me, his gaze forwards as we walked. I finally glanced up at him and stopped. "What are you doing?" I asked shaking my head. "I'll walk you home" He said looking down at me. I shook my head. "I don't need you to walk me home" I stated harshly. He smiled down at me. My face hardened. Why was he smiling at me? He let out a breath looking down at me.

"I don't want to talk to you Chris" I breathed hardening my face at him. I did want to talk to him. All I've wanted the past week was to speak with him. I was angry, letting all of the words fall out of my mouth that I didn't mean. I don't remember the last time I got to be angry with someone. Not after what happened the last time when I talked back to Max. Chris took it, so I gave it to him. Even though he was the last person who deserved it.

"You don't have to talk" He said motioning to walk. I just blinked at him. "I just feel like right now you just need a friend" He whispered peering down at me with those impossible blue eyes.

I looked at him, my face pale from the lack of sleep, my eyes red and puffy from the hidden emotions, my body tense from the angry residing within me. All I needed was a friend.

I hung my head my lips shaking and closing my eyes. I hated that I was being mean to him. He didn't deserve it. If anyone in the entire world deserved it, he would be the last on the list.

He stepped forwards slightly, placing his hand on the back of my head and pulling me against him as the tears poured out of my eyes. I cried against him as his arms wrapped around me.

"I'm sorry I said those things to you y/n" He whispered as I cried. I shook my head against me. I just sat here and screamed at him and he was apologizing. Why did he know what to say all the fucking time? It wasn't fair. It's like he had a guide on how to do this imprinted in his brain and I was the one walking around with my eyes closed.

"I always want you to run back to me" He whispered so quietly, I almost didn't hear him.

I pulled back wiping the tears from under my eyes. He smiled down at me. "Sorry I look-" I said shaking my head wiping my eyes. "You always look pretty" He said cutting me off. I smiled and shook my head, letting out a breath. He placed his hand on my face motioning me in front of me.

"Come on, let's get you home" He said as we started to walk down the sidewalk. I sighed as I shut my mouth and we walked down the sidewalk towards my house.

The cold hair hitting my tore up face from crying, felt good refreshing. Chris didn't speak while we walked, like he promised. I stayed silent as we walked as well. I had nothing left to say. I wanted to apologize but I had nothing left in my throat to say.

So instead I just leaned into him, grabbing his hand and interlocking our fingers. As an apology without saying it. I didn't look up at him, but I felt him squeeze my hand back as If to say. It's okay. We walked like that, the rest of the way home in silence.

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#matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo

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clockwayswrites · 9 months

Text

A Broken Sort of Normal Part 9

WC: 1431, Masterpost CW: blood, cannon typical violence, off screen civilian and first responder deaths, mentions of death

Danny and his Flash were both very busy people, there was no denying that. The good thing was that the worst of their busyness were the same events. Sure, they both had obligations outside of that. Danny had all of the other work with the outreach and now overseeing and even training other team members. Flash… well, Flash had whatever he did with the rest of his life. Danny assumed he worked, even if it was for the Justice League.

It was a little odd not knowing Flash past the mask. Danny understood, of course he did. A secret identity was important and, despite having been on several dates now, they still were getting to know each other. It wasn’t as if Danny didn’t know anything about his Flash. He knew Flash always comforted the kids first, was fiercely loyal, and couldn’t resist petting a dog. He knew Flash loved trying new foods, played video games with friends that Flash wished he saw more, and really did enjoy spoiling him. He knew a lot.

He just didn’t know Flash’s name or what family Flash had or if those freckles ran all the way across Flash’s nose.

Danny would be patient though, because he understood. It helped that he at least had Flash’s number. He didn’t know if it was a burner phone or an app or routed through a number of proxies; he hadn’t asked. The first thing Danny had done, in fact, was to send a Flash meme. It had gotten him shoved, but that had turned into a make out session on the couch, so Danny certainly wasn’t complaining.

And if Danny now kept a collection of gifs, memes, and other silly Flash things on hand to send? Well, who could blame him.

He rolled over to grab his phone from the coffee table and sent off another picture of a cat dressed up in Flash’s outfit. The amount of people dressing pets up as superheros was honestly shocking. He didn’t expect an answer right then, looking at the time, but he found it was… nice to be able to find things to send to Flash for him to find and respond to later. It made him feel connected to someone in a way that he hadn’t had in years.

Danny recognized, now, that he had been really hurting himself trying to stay so separate from everyone. One way or another, this is how things would be for the rest of his life. He couldn’t keep morning what had happened, what he had lost. Besides, he was just a civilian now, he wasn’t a danger to his friends and family anymore. So, along with Flash, Danny had started actually accepting the occasional invitation from some of his coworkers. He had even found a game store to go to and play at on the weekends.

It was harder than he thought, putting himself out there again, but his life was brighter for being around people outside of work every week or so. He had Flash to thank for that.

He also had Flash to thank for getting him addicted to the Percy Jackson books. He could personally do with less lightning, but the story had a real way of resonating with the halfa. Danny was three books in at this point and needed to know how it all finished up.

A few chapters further in a notification interrupted him.

Quick Boy: It’s not fair that a cat wears my uniform better than me!!

Danny laughed and tapped the message.

Danny: The cat is pretty cute. But I still think you wear it best. You have a better butt. 😏

The little dots wiggled as Flash typed. It was endlessly amusing to Danny that despite being, literally, super fast, Flash was slowed down by the physics of the world around him, like how fast a phone could accept input.

Quick Boy: 😳🫣🥵 Danny! Have you been checking out my butt?

Despite himself, Danny felt a blush heating up his cheeks. They hadn’t gotten any further than kissing, it didn’t feel right to go further when Danny didn’t know who Flash was, but that didn't mean Danny couldn't tease.

Danny: You run around in spandex, I can’t NOT check out your butt. Have to say, it’s a pretty good one. 10/10, would ogle again.

Quick Boy: How do you feel about ogling it in my most flattering sweatpants? Got a hold of that Japanese giant bug movie you were ranting about. I can grab food and be over to your place in about an hour?

Danny: Stop calling it that!!!You know the title! 😤

Quick Boy: I’m not typing out that title.

Danny grinned as he rolled off of the couch. If Flash was coming over, he should at least pick up a little. Danny knew Flash didn’t really care, but the pile of laundry that Danny had been avoiding folding was a bit much.

Danny: Thought you were supposed to be fast.

Quick Boy: 😒

Danny: Come on, quick boy, take the nanosecond and type it.

Quick Boy: I hate you.

Danny: No you don't~

(Danny sung along as he typed.)

Quick Boy: “Help I’ve Been Made a Holy Knight in a World of Giant Bugs and Need to Save the Prince”

Danny: Knew you could do it! Proud of you. 😘 See you in an hour! Bring Thai and ice cream!

Danny was just putting away the folded stack of laundry when an alarm on his phone screamed at him.

It was work.

Emergency alert.

All hands on deck.

Danny dashed for his door, shoving his feet in his work boots and grabbing the backup vest he kept at home. Someone would drive the trucks full of kits there, but Danny still took his little kit with him, just in case he ran into any wounded on the way.

So much for dinner and cuddling his boyfriend.

As soon as he stepped out onto the street, Danny could hear the sound of sirens and the acrid smell of smoke stung his eyes. Danny’s heart sank.

Whatever this was, it was big.

“Danny.”

Danny flexed his hands. Flakes of dried blood broke off and scattered in the wind.

“Danny, babe.”

He would need more gloves for his kit. Was he out? He had to be out. He changed gloves so many times. There were so many people. He had to be out of gloves. He would need more for his kit.

Other hands entered his vision, covered in bright red. Not blood red, bright red. Blood red was mostly darker than people thought. Bright blood was worse. He watched as the hands gently rolled down the gloves.

He needed more gloves.

“Not for today, babe. You’re done for today.”

He needed more gloves, there were so many people.

“Everyone is accounted for. You and the others got everyone.”

Not everyone.

How many people died under his hands today?

Were already dead when he found them?

Wouldn’t last the night?

How many people did he fail?

Too many.

“Danny.” The voice was worried now. “Come on babe, look at me, please?”

Blood had gotten under his gloves, staining his wrists.

“Babe, please.”

Warm, fabric covered hands rested on Danny’s cheeks, tilting his gaze up and away from his hands.

Oh. “Flash?”

“Hey there, babe, you with me?”

Why did he look so worried?

“Because you’re scaring me a little. I think you’re in shock.”

Oh.

“Do you have a shock blanket in your kit still?”

“No… used them all. Had to cover…”

How many people did he fail?

“Okay, that’s okay. I’m going to take you home, okay babe? Well, not my home, but where I used to live— right, that doesn’t matter now. We’re going to go and I’ll keep you safe.”

Danny motioned to a cluster of officials. “I have to—”

“I’ve already checked you out.”

“My team?”

Flash glanced down and away.

“Flash, my team?”

“They’re…. all accounted for. Larson…. He got caught in part of the building coming down. He didn’t make it. Patel was paired with him. She’s at the hospital, they think she’ll pull through.”

Danny tried to say something, but the words caught in his throat. He wanted to scream, to rage, to wail— it all caught up in his throat because he couldn’t. He let out a soundless sob.

Flash pulled Danny into his arms, holding him close. “I know. I know. I’m taking you home. You’ll be okay Danny. It will be okay.”

The colors of the world blurred together as Flash ran, but Danny hardly noticed.

-----

AN: So this has been 95% written since before I got sick, but just now was the first time I could get my brain to deal with it. A darker part of the story, I know, but it felt needed. Danny's doing a very, very hard job and one made all the worse because Danny used to be able to do more and now he can't. (Though I have no doubt he pushed use of his powers further than was really safe in this.)

Stay safe and delightful, my darlings!

I no longer tag people for several reasons, you can subscribe to the masterpost instead to be notified! (May notify this part slightly later, I am queuing it.)

#dp x dc #danny fenton/wally west #quick death #abson

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thetriumphantpanda · 3 months

Text

LOST IN OUR VICES | ONE

Chapter Summary | A chance encounter with a handsome stranger sets off a chain of events that could all end in disaster. It's hard to say no when it feels so good though.

Pairing | Professor!Marcus Pike x Student F!Reader

Chapter Warnings | Dubious ethical relationship between a professor & student, Marcus tells a lie, mentions of food and alcohol, mentions of academia, academic failure and strained parental relationships, gratuitous descriptions of London because I live here and I love it, some heavy making out and some heavy petting, no use of y/n.

Authors Note | WELL HERE SHE IS. I have no idea how to tell you how much I am loving this so far. Professor Pike has well and truly rotted my brain so y'all have to suffer with me okay? It's gonna be fun, I promise. I would LOVE to know what you all think about this so feel free to scream at me incumbents, reblogs and asks! As always, a huge thank you to @undercoverpena for reading this over and making sure it isn't utter tripe. ILY. And to @saradika for the beautiful divider.

Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs for writing updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

He’s seen her there every day he’s visited the past month. Sitting on the bench, looking up at the same sculpture - a woman carved from marble - sketching into a notepad. He stands this time and watches as her finger tucks some hair behind her ear, brushing it out of her face. She looks up and tilts her head a little, eraser end of her pencil sitting between her teeth as she thinks, tracers a portion of the statue before her head is back down, looking at the page as she continues to draw.

She’s beautiful, there’s no denying it, she’s been beautiful every time he’s seen her. There’s something lonely about her too, the way she sits there on her own, artefacts and artworks for company. She’s just like him really, uprooted from a life he was no longer satisfied with, four years of a PhD and now the letters of Dr before his name. Moved to London, a new city, a fresh start as he’d coined it to his family, but he’s been here three years now, and not one thing that he wanted from his move have materialised. He knows the therapy was good for him, he knows that his haste to find someone was probably what was making him scare people off, but he doesn’t much like the other side of the coin either - a modest flat in London to himself, a small group of friends who sit around and drink beer and droll on about their academic passions, but no-one he can really call his own right now.

Dr. M Pike. Professor of Art History. That’s what his doorplate says, one of many in the small corridor at UCL. Three years and he’s still not quite sure how he made it here, or if it’s really what he wants, but it beats whatever he was doing back in D.C. that’s for sure. It had seemed like the best thing to do at the time, but when Lisbon had told him she wasn’t coming, everything about it seemed wrong, soiled somehow, by the life he’d built in his mind being torn up by someone who, looking back, had never really wanted him in the first place.

He thought about talking to her the first day he’d seen her, but then realised he was actually here to prepare for one of his teaching seminars, so squirrelled himself away to another room instead. The second time he’d seen her, she’d looked too engrossed on whatever she was working on, and then every other time, he’s convinced himself she’s here for peace, not to be bothered by some random man. But there’s something about the way she is today that makes the pull harder to resist, so he says fuck it, shoves his hands into his trouser pockets and walks over.

“You come here often?”

It’s an American accent that pulls you from your work. His voice jolts your hand, makes you press your pencil into paper too hard and at the wrong angle. You suck in a deep breath, try not to think about the hours of work he’s just ruined by startling you. You’re about to turn around and complain when he comes into your vision.

He’s tall, broad shoulders covered in a light dress shirt, two buttons undone so you can see a flash of tanned skin and a smattering of hair. It’s tucked into dark jeans, a belt keeping them tight to his trim waist. And then there’s his face - a beard, but only just and friendly brown eyes, a full mouth too. He’s handsome, there’s no way around it.

“Sorry, that was awful,” The mystery man scratches the back of his neck, “I just come here a lot and I think I’ve seen you here every time for the past month.”

You smile at that, that you’re someone he’s been picking out amongst the crowd of tourists who always come here, someone familiar to him, even if he’s not the same to you.

“I’m just working on something.” You shrug, letting your palm slyly cover the sketch you’ve been making.

The man walks in front of you slightly, takes a seat on the vacant spot on the bench and looks up at the woman carved from marble, “She’s beautiful.” He muses.

“She is.” You agree, looking over the curves of her hips, the way the marble has been carved to make it look like her clothes are wet, sticking to her breasts like she’s just climbed out of the Aegean Sea.

“You like sculpture then?”

“I do,” You nod, turning your body a little towards him, “It’s not my first artistic passion, but I’m studying for my PhD at the moment and it’s all about the female form in marble.”

“Brains as well as beauty,” He smirks a little at you, “Sounds interest though, where are you studying?”

“UCL,” You beam, because you’re proud, it wasn’t easy, you’d been rejected for your first choice research project the first time around, encouraged to choose something else from the feedback, but you were there now, and that’s what mattered, “What about you?” You ask, “What do you do that means you have to be here as much as me?”

He shrugs a little, “I teach.”

It’s vague but you don’t press, he owes you nothing, so you let it lie. You turn back to the sculpture in front of you, when your stomach grumbles. You look down at your watch. It’s 2pm and you’ve not eaten anything yet.

“Hungry?”

“Starving.” You reply meekly.

“Want to grab something to eat?” He asks, “I know a great Italian place in Soho if you fancy it?”

You look at him, eyes tightening a little. It’s been so long since anyone has shown you an ounce of interest, and now the beautiful man in a shirt and dress pants wants to take you for lunch, it all seems a bit too good to be true. But, you can hear the voice of your therapist tell you to say yes to more things, take more risks in life because not all of them are going to turn out to be bad, so you flip the front of your notepad over to cover your drawing and reach down to pick up your backpack.

“Lead the way.”

He doesn’t disappoint. Over the course of a glass of wine and a bowl of olives, you coax out his name. It’s Marcus. He’s got a PhD in Art History and moved to London from D.C. three years ago. He lives alone, near Notting Hill, he likes it because he can go searching for antiques on the weekend. He wants a dog, but he spends too much time out of the house to justify one. He likes to read and he can cook, but prefer eating out or ordering in because he’s not mastered the art of cooking for one.

When a waiter sets down your second glass of wine and your food - gnocchi with pesto and bacon for you and carbonara from Marcus, he turns the conversation back to you, sipping wine as he ask you where you live - Willesden Green, so not far from you - who you live with - myself, my dad was so proud I got into my course he pays for my rent, it’s the only way he can show he loves me - what you like to do with your free time - free time? When I have it, I read, or I walk, or I sit and draw sculptures in museums.

You don’t know whether it’s the wine or not, but the dark winter sinks in, outside cloaked in black, lights dimmed inside, and it makes him even more handsome than he was before. He makes you laugh, with his stories of his own PhD stress, how he would walk the streets of D.C. at 3am to get coffee and pancakes on his way back from the library and then collapse into bed and sleep for two hours until his alarm would wake him up and he would go all the way back to the library to do it again.

“If I ever get to that point,” You muse, stabbing a piece of gnocchi onto your fork, “I don’t think I’ll have the will to make it through.”

“You seem far too organised to me to fall into the bad habits I had.” He shrugs, looking at you over his own glass of wine as you take a bite of your food, too busy watching him to really notice the angle of your fork, green sauce smearing on the corner of your mouth as you fight it into your mouth.

Before you have a chance to reach down and grab the napkin from your lap, Marcus is reaching over the table, using the pad of his thumb to wipe the stray sauce away. It’s something that under any other circumstance would make you feel uncomfortable, but all it really makes you want to do is kiss him, especially when he apologises profusely for being so forward.

He pays for dinner, insists on it really, hidden behind the excuse that he knows how hard it is to live whilst studying. He takes you for cocktails at a bar on the end of Old Compton Street - orders himself an old fashioned whilst you opt for an amaretto sour. The bar is dark and busy, the only seats are in a corner, sat so close together your knees are touching and your shoulder is slightly leaned into his side.

“So, you said you got rejected from your first choice course?” He muses, taking a short sip of his drink.

You shrug with a nod, “I wanted to research the impressionist movement,” You start to explain, “I love Monet and Renoir but I think my research application was too broad,” Sipping your own drink you carry on talking, “There’s a great academic at UCL, Professor Pike, I was desperate to have him as my supervisor, but it wasn’t meant to be.”

You turn your head a little, watching as Marcus swallows on nothing, quickly taking another sip of his drink.

“It’s okay,” You hasten to add, “I guess if I’m not writing thousands of words about it, it won’t make me hate what I love most.”

“Smart,” Is what he says with a smirk, “You would have given him a run for his money anyway.”

“Do you know him?” You ask, “I know all of you academic types are familiar with each other.”

He swallows on nothing again, “I’ve heard of him but I don’t think we’ve ever met.”

You both order another drink, sit around talking about nothing much at all, slowly moving closer as the bar gets busier, you tell yourself it’s just so you can hear him better, but he smells good, some kind of musky cologne that suits him really well, so you don’t complain about soaking it up.

When it gets late, he offers to take you home, keep you company on the tube. You know it’s not really necessary, you’ve never felt particularly unsafe walking home from the station, but if it means spending more time with him, then you don’t really mind. He lets you take the only free seat on the tube, standing in the aisle just in front of your knees so he can keep talking to you, and when you reach the other side, he walks close to you, puts a hand on your lower back which you can feel through your jacket when a group of people walk past you a little too close. He even insists on walking you to your door.

It’s quiet in the building, like it usually is. It’s only recently been built and you think you’re one of only a few people who are currently living there. You pluck your keys from your coat pocket when you reach your door, leaning your back against it.

“This is me.”

“Nice place.”

“Yeah, although I usually prefer places with more character.”

He’s stood right in front of you, rocking on his heels, that same nervous hand on the back of his neck as this afternoon, “I know this might seem weird, but would you like to go on a date sometime?”

You can help but snort a laugh, shaking your head a little, before you meet his eyes, “This wasn’t a date?” You ask coyly.

He smirks a little, cheeks flushing a little, “Did you want it to be a date?”

“I wouldn’t have let you take me for lunch if I didn’t,” You say, “But there is one thing missing.”

“Oh yeah?” He hums, “What’s that?”

Instead of speaking, you take a step forward, hands gripping the lapels of his jacket as you press up onto your toes and plant your lips on his. It’s clumsy and it’s impulsive, but you’ve wanted to do it all day. You can feel his arms wrapping around your back, dragging your body flush to his as he opens his mouth against yours right as you do the same. He tastes like mint from the gum he’s been chewing and the whisky from his drinks - it’s all you can think about as he walks you back, presses you against the door as his tongue meets with yours.

You’re thankful no-one is around. Your arms move from his jacket to wrap around the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the curls there as you tilt your head to one side, a slight smacking sound from your lips as the disconnect, only to come back together seconds later. He’s good at this, you think, as his hands drop from your back to rest in the pockets on the back of your jeans, palms warm through the material. You can feel him squeeze you there a little, and you’re so close to saying fuck it and inviting him in, because if his lips are this good against yours, you can’t imagine what they’d be like in other places.

Marcus is the one that pulls away from you, resting his forehead gently to yours. You’re both breathless and you’re itching to press your mouth back to his.

“I should go.” He breathes against your mouth, pressing his lips to your in a chaste kiss.

“Yeah,” You agree, “You should.”

He steps back, takes the warmth of his palms with him, but reaches in to his pocket and hands his phone to you, “Put your number in here and I’ll call you.”

So you do, press the eleven digits into his phone along with your name and then kiss him once more before he’s turning on his heel and walking away, leaving you with a dull ache between your thighs that you’re working on relieving within five minutes of getting inside. You’re fucked.

Marcus curses himself as he settles into the seat on the bus. It’s late enough that it’s not too busy, no-one sitting next to him as he leans his head back and runs his hand over his face. He already knows he’s fucked up. The words Professor Pike and rejected from my first choice spinning around in his brain as he watches parts of North London flash past the window on his ride home.

Why hadn’t he stopped it then? He knows the rules, knows that even though he doesn’t teach her, any kind of relationships with students, no matter how mature, are off limits. And how is he supposed to keep the facade up now? It’s only a matter of time before she puts two and two together and figures out who he really is.

You’re sweet and you’re smart and you’re fucking beautiful and the best kisser he thinks he’s ever met. You have so much in common with him that it actually hurts him a little and one stupid choice to keep lying to you and the fucking ethics policy are going to keep him from something he thinks would actually be fucking good for him.

He thinks for a second, pulling out his phone and looking at your contact card that he should probably just delete your number. It’s for the best for everyone. He could avoid the museum for a while, keep his head low on campus, he knows he can avoid you. But with his finger hovering over the delete confirmation, he finds he doesn’t have the strength to do it. Stuffs his phone back in his pocket and tries to will his mind to forget the way you’d gasped into his mouth when his hands had squeezed at the swell of your ass, or the way your lips had been soft against his when he’d kissed you.

Then, led in bed, frustrations sorted by his own hand, he picks up his phone and damns himself to hell with a single text.

How about a walk around the National Gallery and dinner this weekend?

#Marcus Pike x Reader #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x f!reader #Marcus Pike smut #Marcus Pike #marcus pike fanfiction #Marcus Pike fanfic #Marcus Pike fic #Pedro pascal #Marcus Pike Pedro Pascal #the mentalist #the mentalist fic #the mentalist fanfic #the mentalist fanfiction #Marcus Pike fluff #Marcus Pike au #pedro characters #pedrostories

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raya-hunter01 · 2 months

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WIP Wednesday (Even thought it's Saturday)

Thank you empressdede and @whatdoeseverybodywant for the tag. This has been sitting in my drafts since December. Enjoy!!

The Christmas Present

Jey's Annual Christmas Party

“There is nothing wrong with Sefa, take that back. Your being plan mean now,” I said offended as Tori one of the new divas was talking about him as he stood across the room totally unaware, or maybe he was, and he just didn’t give a shit what people thought of him.

He always moved in silence…Guarded and the halls always cleared when they saw him coming.

“Get real Eden, it has to be something wrong with him. He just stands there like a knot on a log and doesn’t say anything. I wonder does he show emotions when he has sex or is he like a robot,” she said as Trin interrupted her public undressing of the tribal heir.

“Ain’t nothing wrong with my brother-in-law, he just ain’t with the drama that ya’ll asses bring. Plus, he likes his women real, not surgically enhanced,” Trin said as I smiled at the offended look and Tori’s face before she stormed off.

“Damn tell her how you feel, Trin,” I laughed as she smiled.

“Girl, she mad because he won’t give her the time of day and he likes you,” Trin said winking at me as I shook my head at her before stealing a glance at the baby brother of the Fatu family.

I have to admit, I liked him too, but he was dangerous. They say the most dangerous man in the room is one that doesn’t know the power he has over others, and I don’t think he knows the power he truly has.

I was drawn to him, there was a sadness to him that just made me want to hold him.

The chaos of the Christmas party long forgotten as I saw him talk to his brothers for a few minutes before going upstairs.

“When are you going to tell him, you like him?’ Trin asked as I sipped on my champagne. “I’m not ready to date yet, Trin,” I said as she scoffed.

“Bullshit It’s been over a year, you need to have some fun,” she said as her thoughts echoed in my mind.

My last relationship had me leery on letting someone into my life again. It’s not every day your boyfriend cheats on you with your cousin. I’m not scared to admit that it fucked me up, but I am slowly working through it.

“I’m going to tell him Merry Christmas, then order me an uber,” I said as she smirked at me. “An uber? Girl, go upstairs and lay up under that man, stop playin’,” Trin said as I sighed.

“Uh, we are rarely home and I’m going to sleep in my own bed tonight, thank you very much. Plus, I’m sure Jey don’t want folks having sex in his house,” I said giving her a hug as she laughed.

“Aye, where my hug at?” Jey asked engulfing us both in his strong arms. “I really enjoyed the party boo, but I’m about to head out,” I said as he kissed my cheek.

“Head up and see lil bro before you leave. He’s in the spare bedroom, you know where it’s at,” he said as I gave him another hug before going upstairs. The music becoming fainter as I went to the other side of the house.

How do you tell someone you want them to rearrange your insides respectively without sounding desperate. Gently knocking on the door I leaned up against the frame, my hair flowing wild and free as I anxiously waited.

“Who is it?” He asked opening the door as I smiled trying to hide my nervousness. The shocked look on his face told me all I needed to know I made the right decision to come up to see him.

“Are you alone?” I asked as he nervously gulped but couldn’t resist being a smart ass. “Oh, I got a whole party going on in here, you don’t see all these people” he said smartly as I rolled my eyes “Always the smart ass,” I whispered as he cracked a smile.

“It’s always just me, you know that,” he said as I built up my nerve.

“Well, how would you like to have a real party for two?” I asked shyly as he opened the door wider allowing me inside as I put my coat on the dresser.

“I was just listening’ to some music on the tv to unwind,” he said clearing his throat going over to turn it off. “No, leave it on,” I whispered sitting down in the chair beside the bed as he turned it down a little and sat down on the bed.

“What happened you been avoiding me all night?” I asked truly wanting to know what was wrong. “I got some shit on my mind, I had to take the kids back to their mom and they didn’t want me to leave,” he said as I sympathized with him.

“I know it gets hard but it’s going to get better, I know it is. They know you love them and just keep making sure they know that.” Reaching over I rubbed his knee in support as he stoic expression never changed but he nodded.

“I just hate I won’t get to spend Christmas with them tomorrow, but I guess I should be thankful they got to open a few of their gifts from me tonight.”

“Maybe you should call her and see could you stop in and just be there for when they open their other gifts tomorrow,” I suggested as he sighed pulling out his phone texting his ex-wife.

I hoped she lets him do that, it’s bad enough she moved the kids back here to Pensacola without him knowing.

I saw a small smile pass his face as he got a text alert. “She said I could come in the morning to see them open their gifts, and eat breakfast with them,” he said as I smiled brightly at him, truly happy for him.

“I’m glad she changed her mind, I can’t even imagine being without my baby on Christmas,” I said as he grabbed my hand, causing me to blush.

“Enough about me though, how is Kason?” he asked as I smiled brightly at the mention of my son’s name. “He’s great, my mom has him for tonight. She thought I needed the break.”

“You do, I mean your like superwoman. You make sure all our schedules are good and constantly taking care of us all. Then you’re a mom to a very busy ten-month-old. Hell, when we leave the building, your night is just getting started,” he said as I tried not to smile.

He actually was taking notice and appreciative of my work and who I was as a person.

“Yea, it does but I’m just glad Joe talked them into getting me a bus so I can bring him on the road with me. I love how kid friendly the backstage atmosphere is now under Paul’s leadership.”

“Yea, he has that part down good. Now if only the gossip mill would stop wit they shit, maybe I could walk the halls and not be judged by people that don’t even know me,” his voice trailed off.

I knew he heard the whispers of our coworkers. They were afraid of him, they bought into the persona, but I knew better. He was shy and misunderstood but it was their loss and my gain.

“I wanna dance,” I said standing up and holding my hand out to him as his eyes seemed unsure. It was almost as if he wanted to look around to see if there was anyone else in the room with us.

“Uh, with me?” he asked as nodded, not trusting my voice. “It’s a lot that comes along with this and I know you ain’t ready,” Sefa whispered his eyes piercing my soul as I yearned for him.

“Stop worrying, I’m a big girl and I know what I want,” I said unashamed as he licked his lips. “Is that right? Well, tell me again what you want beautiful,” His deep voice awakening something within me that had been doormat for far too long.

“I want to dance with you…Right here…. Right now,” I declared as he stood up pulling me close, our foreheads touching as I caressed his face.

His nervousness making me almost shy, but I knew if this was going to happen tonight, I needed to take charge. “Sefa, I don’t want to be alone tonight,” I whispered as his eyes found mine again.

Clearing his throat, I waited with bated breath for his answer. “I don’t wanna be alone tonight either,” he whispered nodding as I released the breath I was holding.

“I was hoping you would say that,” I said, my fingers playing with his beard as he caressed my hips.

Building up my courage, I tested the waters with a gentle kiss as a deep groan fell from his lips as we tasted each other.

Suddenly, Sefa pulled me closer, deepening our kiss making it even more impossible for me to gather my myself as he ravaged my mouth with his. My hands gripping the back of his shirt as I whimpered against his lips in pleasure.

His kisses, powerful and intentional as I weakened in his arms.

“Mm, Sefa”, I gasped as he released my lips. Shit, he can kiss, and he knew it by the sly smile that adorned his handsome face as we both caught our breaths.

“You sure?” he asked as I nodded, his hands caressing my face as he claimed my lips again.

“Mmm, tell me you want me and that I ain’t trippin’ right now,” he whispered, his passionate gaze making me fall even deeper under his spell.

“Yes, I want you,” I moaned as his thumb caressed my lower lip. “You want my head between your thighs eatin' that sweet pussy don’t you?”

His deep voice sending shivers down my spine as I purred in anticipation.

“Yes! Please Sefa,” I begged unashamed, yearning to be claimed as he licked his lips.

“You want all this dick up in dat pussy rearranging them tight walls don’t you?”

Fuck, he knew his power, and I was already under his spell, ready and willing as I whimpered against him unable to speak.

“Are you ready for all of me Eden, I can be a lot baby, but I promise you ain’t gon’ never forget me.”

I nodded, rendered powerless as his lips slowly descended upon mine, our kisses becoming deeper and more desperate by the second.

“Yes, take me,” I gasped finally finding my voice as we fell onto the bed. Our lips and hands exploring each other desperately. “You sure?” he whispered against my lips, as I nodded again.

“Let me here you, Eden. Do you want me?” he groaned, grabbing my hands pinning them above my head as he towered over me .

“I want you,” I moaned as a low growl fell from his lips. “I want you too,” he moaned claiming my lips again with urgency as I gasped at the intensity but welcomed it.

I was losing myself, losing myself in him and I loved it.

Whimpering against his mouth, he abruptly released my lips and let my hands go. “Why did you stop?” I panted trying to catch my breath as he searched my face for discomfort.

“I knew you weren’t ready for this; I’m moving too fast. Your scared of me, aren’t you?” he asked as I looked at him in confusion.

“What are you talking about?” I asked not getting how he gathered that conclusion.

“Look, I can take it alright, just tell me your scared of me like everybody els is," he said as I sat up beside him still trying to catch my breath.

“Scared of you? Boy, if anything I needed to breathe so I wouldn’t die on your ass,” I said as he looked at me in confusion.

“I’m serious Sefa, whether you know it or not, your very intense and I like it. It actually makes it hard for me to not lose myself around you,” I confessed as he searched my eyes for any deception in my words.

“I’m not scared of you Sefa, if I was, I wouldn’t have come up her,” I said reaching over and placing my hand on his knee.

“You sure you’re not scared? You would tell me, right?” he asked as I smiled at him.

“Now, if you would have asked me this last year, I would have said yes without a second thought. But, I know you now, and up under that tough enforcer attitude you’re a teddy bear,” I said getting up off the bed and going over to the table to fix me a shot of Tequilla.

“I couldn’t tell that you were scared, you chewed my ass out for not speaking to you the first time we ever talked,” he said as I laughed.

“Hell, its rude to not to say at least hello to someone when they speak to you.”

“A’ight you right, I was wrong,” he said as an idea popped into my head.

“Now, since we got that covered, how bout we get out of here and go to my house. I have a beautiful view of the beach and plenty of privacy,” I offered as he stood up slowly walking towards me.

“Going somewhere more private sounds perfect, I mean we don’t need everybody in our business,” he said as I nodded in agreement. Last thing any of us needed was the gossip mill in our business.

“I’m happy we’re on the same page, let’s get out of here.”

It was easy to sneak away as the party was in full swing, but Sefa shot Jey a text to let him know he was taking me home and would hit him up later.

The ride to my house at first was quiet but something shifted in the atmosphere as leaned over and playfully nipped at his neck as he drove.

“You playin’ a dangerous game Eden,” he growled as I smiled against his neck slowly reaching down, slipping my hands inside his sweats as he groaned.

“Mmhm, a big dangerous game at that and I can’t wait to play,” I whispered in his ear, as I slowly began to stroke him.

“Damn, you like playin’ with danger, don’t you?” he moaned as I smiled against his neck. His breathing became more ragged as his hands gripped the steering wheel.

“Yes, now eyes on the road, I got you,” I whispered as he groaned in appreciation. “Mm, shit… Well, go on then and do your thang.”

My mama ain’t raised no punk, so Sefa’s bout to get a preview of what’s to come. I just pray it don’t get us killed.

“Make the next right and go about two miles up the road, my house is the last one up on the hill,” I whispered in his ear as one of his hands caressed my thigh.

“I’mma tear dat pussy up, you know dat right,” he moaned. His deep voice echoing throughout the car and making me even wetter than I already was as I continued to stroke him.

“Yes, and I can’t wait,” I whispered as his grip on the wheel tightened. “Are we almost there?” he gasped as I smirked knowing he was close as I decided to talk him through it.

“You like my hands pleasing you, don’t you?” I asked as he nodded in concentration putting his other hand back on the wheel.

“Don’t hold back, I want you to let go,” I encouraged as he melted into me. “There is my house, turn in and park,” I said as he quickly pulled into my driveway, throwing the car in park and cutting it off.

"Now, keep your hands on the wheel,” I said as he turned, resting his forehead against mine, keeping his hands on the wheel as I continued to please him.

“Why did you come with me tonight?” I whispered, licking his lips as groaned catching my tongue between his lips as we shared a sloppy wet kiss.

“Mmm, you know why. Tell me why you wanted me to come?” he moaned, trying to regain control of the situation.

“I wanted you to devour this pussy,” I whispered as he moaned against my lips.

“Now you tell me why you came? Tell me Sefa,” I whispered, beginning to stroke him faster as he gasped.

“I wanted to have you all to myself and make you scream my fuckin’ name all night long,” he growled grasping my face and claiming my lips in a passionate kiss as he came.

His body trembling as he found his much-needed release. Looking handsome more than ever as he rode out his climax as I watched in awe.

Yea, he defiantly needed that, and I was happy to help.

“Damn Eden, that was-” he moaned caressing my face, not able to finish his sentence, I smiled.

“It was my pleasure,” I whispered tenderly kissing his lips.

“Now, let me see if you taste as good as you look right now,” I said as he watched me through heavy lids.

Slowly I leaned down, and licked his cum off of his stomach as he gasped in shock at my actions. Not leaving a single drop, I then slid back into my seat. “Let me see Eden, open up beautiful.” Staring innocently at him, I opened my mouth and released my tongue for him to see.

“Fuck, dats what I’m talkin’ bout. Mmhm, now swallow dat shit,” he commanded as I did as he instructed.

“Mmm, you taste good,” I whispered licking my lips as he moaned. His powerful gaze awakening the woman within me.

“You askin’ for trouble,” he hissed as I smirked, before exiting the car as he readjusted himself back into his sweats.

Anxiously, I went to unlock the front door, before turning around to see if Sefa was behind me, but he was still sitting in the car in a daze.

“Stop overthinking Sefa, it’s no rules here,” I said going inside and heading upstairs, dropping articles of clothing along the way as I made my way to my room.

Hearing his footsteps, I sat down on the side of the bed, crossing my legs wearing only my black stilettos and a smile.

In all honesty I was scared to death, but excited if that made sense.

My heart began to race as Sefa appeared in the doorway in all his naked glory. My pussy drippin’ and throbbing in anticipation, knowing at any moment he was going to completely engulf me within his flame, and I couldn’t wait.

“I see your waiting for me like a good girl,” he whispered as I smiled holding out my hand to him as he came closer.

“I see you’re ready again,” I whispered looking at his throbbing erection as he smirked. “Oh, I stay ready and you betta be ready,” he said his voice making me wet as fuck as I moaned at his words.

“Come find out,” I whispered as he took my hand and smiled. “Are you sure?” he asked once again kneeling before me as I smiled.

“More than you’ll ever know,” I said as our lips met in another passionate kiss.

“Merry Christmas, Sefa.”

“Merry Christmas, Eden” he whispered easing me back onto the bed as I welcomed all of him. His hands caressing my body as raked my nails down his back in pleasure as he nibbled and sucked on my breasts.

“Let me see if you taste as good as I imagined,” he panted moving his kisses to my stomach as I gasped. Fuck, with how this man kisses I know he can give some bomb ass head.

“Are you gon’ give it all to me like a good girl?” Sefa asked dipping his tongue into my belly button as I moaned, running my fingers through his hair.

“Yes! I’mma give it all to you,” I moaned staring down at him in anticipation as he wore a mischievous smirk as my body trembled.

“Well, let me open up my first Christmas present then,” he whispered as his head disappeared between my thighs.

@reci24 @southerngirl41 @vebner37 @jeyusos-girl

@melaninsugababy @romanreignkisser @bebesobrielo

@arination99 @2-muchsauce @bakugoumarianawrites

@empressdede @alyyaanna @christinabae @anonandwannakeepitthatway @venusesworld @jeyusosgirl @theninthwonder @mya2real @justazzi @whatdoeseverybodywant @reignsboy19 wooahmiri alichesmi pytbgeezy

#solo sikoa fic #solo sikoa fanfiction #solo sikoa smut #solo sikoa #sefa fatu #solo sikoa x reader #wrestling fanfiction #wwe imagine #wwe smut #wwe fanfiction #wwe x reader #wwe x yn

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rorywritesjunk · 6 months

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I felt the need to elaborate on Buggy as the Ultimate Girl Dad, because I am loving every Buggy as a Dad fic I've come across and decided to add into it. It's a mix of head canons and fic of all eight daughters and when they were born. Also can be read as anime Buggy or OPLA Buggy!

Rating: PG-13 because innuendos. Warnings: Childbirth, mentions of a difficult labor. A/N: I had a lot of fun just thinking up names for all eight daughters.

Buggy’s Eight Daughters

The first daughter, Lil Buggy (Lil or LB for short) is a clone of her dad in looks and personality. The first to inherit his nose (much to his distress) and the first one to really experience ship life. When she was two weeks old, Buggy bound her to his body while climbing up to the crow’s nest of his ship so he could show her the views of the sea. You nearly killed him for that. And while Buggy wanted to name her Buggy Junior, or BJ for short, you killed that idea immediately.

“I don’t want BJ for her nickname. People may make fun of her!” You said as Buggy walked around your room with the newborn, keeping her close to him as he gazed down at her.

“But come on, that’s what started that night we had when she was conci-” He looked up with a smirk and you resisted throwing a pillow at him. Not while he was holding the baby.

“Buggy!”

Mae was the second daughter. She was born with a full head of bright blue hair and your nose. Unlike her older sister, she was a bit easier. She was born when LB was about to turn 2, and well, older sister wasn’t too sure how to feel about a new baby joining the family. Surprisingly, Buggy noticed his daughter having more tantrums and generally being a terror since she wasn’t getting all of her parents’ attention, so he took to carrying her on his back while Mae would be strapped on his front, being the Ultimate Pirate Dad. He just had to remember LB was on his back when he sat down (which he sometimes did forget she was there because she often fell asleep back there).

“Oof, daddy!” A tiny voice squealed from behind him. It took Buggy a moment to realize LB was on his back again, so he jumped up from his seat and turned his head around to look at her.

“What are you doing back there?!” He asked, always sounding surprised. She fixed him with a glare that was so like his own it was a little terrifying. He got her off his back and sat back down in his seat, holding her into his lap while he turned his head back around to face his crew.

Cherry and Apple were next. Buggy wasn’t there when they were born. He was off dealing with the Strawhats, and while you never chose a name for the babies until a few days later, you took one look at them and decided on the names. Just like their oldest sister, the two of them had Buggy’s nose, and well, you thought the names would be as cute as their bright red noses. Cherry was the more daring of the two. Buggy literally had to keep one hand ready to grab her in case she decided to go overboard or climb up ropes on the ship. Apple was a little more cautious, choosing to stick near you more often than not. While Cherry was happy to join her father with the circus shows, Apple stayed off to the sides to watch.

“You named them what?” Buggy asked as he held newborn Apple in his arms. “Why?!”

“The names just popped in my head, Buggy!” You insisted as you cradled Cherry against your bare skin. “Besides, the names are perfect for them! Look at their little noses, like bright red apples and cherries!”

Buggy wasn’t sure how he felt about you comparing the inherited nose to fruit, but he wasn’t about to argue with a woman who’d already birthed four children, three of which had that same nose.

Another set of twins came a year and a half later. Buggy decided having a midwife on board may be ideal since he couldn’t seem to stop getting you pregnant (not that you were complaining, it was split 50/50 who initiated these things). He was there this time. Lil Buggy and Mae helped with the names for their sisters. When you and Buggy sat the four girls down to tell them about having another sibling, Lil Buggy had pointed out the rainbow in the distance and Mae asked if that would be the new baby’s name. Buggy looked like would cry at that.

“Wait, twins, again?!” Buggy exclaimed as he was handed the first baby. “We were expecting just one!”

“Sometimes the other one stays a secret, Captain.” The midwife replied calmly as she helped with the next one. “Better start thinking of a second name.”

Yea, right. When Cabaji let the four girls into the room once you were ready, Mae and Lil Buggy looked at the two twin girls before looking up at their parents.

“Rain and Bow!” Both insisted. You were too tired to disagree and Buggy was still in shock, especially since they had his nose again. He was wondering if he needed to propose marriage to you for birthing six kids already.

Buggy indeed proposed to you. It was flashy, with cannons, fire, and all six daughters running around with sparklers. You said yes because while you loved the flashy fool, you also wanted to douse the sparklers before something caught fire.

Six daughters already. When Lil Buggy was 10, Mae was 8, Apple and Cherry 6, and Rain and Bow not quite 4, you announced one night at dinner that you were, again, pregnant. The reactions were as such:

“That explains a lot.” Buggy grumbled as he looked down at his plate. You glared at him and he followed with, “Explains why you have a radiant glow about you, my love!”

“Again?!” Lil Buggy exclaimed. “Can you two stop? There’s no more room!”

“Why?” Mae asked. “Why do you want more kids?”

“Where do babies come from?” Apple asked, looking at Buggy. He was not ready for this conversation.

“We picked you and Cherry out of a treasure chest, just like your sisters and just like this baby.” Buggy said quickly. “That’s how we get babies. From treasure chests.”

“Oh.” Apple seemed fine with that response but Cherry looked confused.

“Why does mama get fat then?” She asked innocently. Buggy was about to say something but one look from you silenced him.

“Oh my God.” He whined. “Another one?”

Rain and Bow just kept eating while Buggy questioned his life choices in that moment and you looked ready to throw him overboard.

Inheriting his nose stopped with Rain and Bow, but his hair followed his daughters. When you gave birth to the 7th daughter, the family had been carving pumpkins as a fun activity. While some parents would worry about their children holding knives, you were more concerned about your husband with one. You decided to get up and grab some bandages from the midwife when it happened. She took one look at you, sighed, and led you to your room to help you give birth. It happened so quick that Buggy came to look for you after about a half hour and found you with a newborn in your arms.

“How! What?!” His jaw dropped seeing the baby in your arms. You just shrugged as you looked down at the newborn.

“Can we name her Pumpkin?” You asked. “I think it would be a fun story to tell, you know, what we were doing when she was born.”

Buggy wasn’t going to disagree with you.

The eighth and final daughter was born during a storm. Giving birth on the ship while waves crashed along it was not ideal. The other seven girls were hunkered in the room with you while you gave birth. Buggy was holding you while you screamed, threatening to kill him after you were done. This was, by far, the most difficult birth of the girls. Lil Buggy and Mae did what they could to entertain the other girls, hoping to get their attention away from your screams and cries while the ship rocked violently. Hours passed until they heard the cries of a newborn. The storm seemed to pass as well, and Buggy was crying as he held his newest daughter.

Lil Buggy, being the eldest, approached first to look. She saw the blue hair and sighed. “You won’t be able to tell us apart if you saw us all from behind, you know.”

“Yea, well, I’ll learn to tell you brats apart.” Buggy shot back. You were resting, having been given something by the midwife to help you sleep. The labor had been a rough one, and you were going to need your strength to keep up with the family.

“What’s this one gonna be called?” LB asked as she gestured for her sisters to come over. “I think mom needs to stop naming us, she’s getting silly with them.”

“What should we name her?” Buggy asked his eldest, his attention on the sleeping bundle in his arms. He glanced up at her. “I’m asking you.”

LB looked taken aback and scratched her head. “Um… why not… Crash?”

“Crash?” Buggy repeated. He was about to comment that that was silly, but considering what the last few hours were like, he was glad she didn’t go with a weather related name. “Y’know, I think Crash is appropriate.”

Buggy decided as a Rite of Passage for Piracy, his girls would join him in a raid when they turned 14. You knew it was something of importance for him, and you trusted he wouldn’t get them hurt. They could protect themselves as well, and by the time Crash turned 14, each girl had their chance. Buggy deemed them all official crew members when they returned from each raid and always held a party for them. With Crash being the last one to go through with it, Buggy couldn’t help but feel a little sad his girls were all growing up. He wouldn’t get to do those fun “Firsts” again like he had with the others. He would never admit to anyone but you, but he liked being a dad.

A few months after Crash’s raid, and the girls were readying for another fun day of piracy, you pulled your husband aside for a brief meeting.

“Babe, if you want me, just ask. We don’t have to sneak around.” Buggy teased as his hands went to your waist, a big grin on his face. You put both hands on his cheeks and tilted his head down so you could look him in the eyes.

“Sneaking around is what caused this, Buggy.” You told him. “I’m pregnant.”

The scream from the clown was heard all over the ship and no doubt all around the seas.

#buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy the clown opla #buggy x reader #buggy the clown headcanon #buggy the clown x you #buggy x you #one piece headcanons #lmao i had lot of fun coming up with names #buggy opla

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heich0e · 1 year

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bittersweet - vash the stampede/f!reader (trigun stampede): 7k, listen there's only been 2 eps and i don't know the lore so i am loudy and emphatically declaring creative license, in my mind this is set before the start of stampede but not by much, heavy on the wild wild west core here, light angst, smut, fingering, needy vanilla sex, domesticity, mentions of alcohol/alcoholism, boot-throwing related violence. 18+ NSFW MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

The desert smells bitter.

You wouldn’t think that sand would smell like much at all, but the fragrance that hangs perpetually in the air is heavy, singed, and acrid with the heady scent of life and its misery. Waste and runoff make their unpleasantness acutely known on the hottest days, and the fumes from old machinery that’s barely functioning thanks to age and disrepair—that no one can afford to fix, so they have to hold out hope it keeps running—clogs up the already noxious atmosphere as it rattles on throughout the day.

Mama used to tell you that outside of Jeneora Rock, the world smelled different. There’s somewhere else past the walls that mark the edge of the only town you’ve ever known, even past the wastelands—a place where almost no one ever goes, but that your Mama saw once. Or at least she said she did.

She told you it smelled clean. Sweet. Untouched by anything but the sun’s heat and the five moons’ glow.

Mama’s gone, has been for a long time now, and even though she never had much to give to you in the first place, that story is the most precious thing she left behind. You think about it almost as often as you think about her.

The end of another long day is marked by a familiar heaviness to your bones. Between the suffocating heat that makes you groggy and a hard day's work, there’s a palpable weight that bears down on you as you climb the never-ending metal stairs to your front door—your feet drag a bit more with every step.

The lock to your home is getting hard to turn. You’ve noticed it a few times now: a resistance as you slip your key into the keyhole, a pressure as you urge the mechanism to turn and let you in. There may be sand built up in there to clean out, or maybe it needs some oil.

But oil costs money, of which you don’t have much, so you really hope that it’s the former rather than the latter.

You examine the keyhole once you manage to force the lock open, dropping to your knees outside your door to peek into the narrow opening on the tarnished face of the lock. It doesn’t do you much good because the sun’s already dropped dark, and even if the light of day still hung overhead you doubt it would be enough to make the issue any clearer. You drag your thumb idly along a little scratch beside the keyhole that's probably been there for years; the metal is still warm to the touch from the heat of the day that still hasn’t quite broken, the surface a little rougher where the score is chipped in.

You sigh, picking yourself up off the ground and dusting off your skirt, and turn the knob into your home.

It’s dark when you get inside, but something feels wrong.

You shut the door behind you as you enter, pressing your back flat against it as your eyes struggle to adjust to the dark. Your home, like every other one in town, isn’t really much to look at even in the plain light of day. You’re luckier than lots of people though, you’ve got a couple rooms all to yourself where some families have no choice but to cram many people into just one. Papa left you this house, cause now he’s gone too just like Mama, but not much has changed since the day he left it to you—except now there’s less empty bottles rolling around underfoot, and you get to call the little bedroom off the main room yours.

It takes a second for your eyes to get used to the dimness with the door shut tight behind you, so you blink hard to make it happen faster. You see the rickety little table against the wall near the door, and the chair on the other side of the room where you sometimes sit by the window to mend your skirts when they wear and tear—but only when you get home early enough to catch the last few moments of sun, cause Mama always used to warn you about sewing by lamplight. The shutters on the window are closed and locked now, but there’s no light outside them to let in anyway.

Something shuffles in the dark.

Papa left you a gun, too. Even taught you how to shoot it. Mama hated that. She hated how good you were at it even more. She used to say that shooting was gonna be your husband’s job someday, and that even in a world this wicked Papa was teaching you things you didn’t need to know.

But now Mama’s gone. And Papa’s gone. And the world is still wicked. And you’ve got no husband, but you have a gun you know how to shoot.

You keep it and a little stash of 7 bullets underneath your bed where you can get to it quick, but it’s on the other side of the house, and even though that’s not very far away you don’t know what’s waiting for you between the door and your bed. You don’t know if it’s faster than you are, either, so running for it would be a fool’s errand.

Inside your chest, your heart starts pumping a little harder, ‘til you can feel the wet thump, thump, thump right in the back of your mouth.

You know you need light. You need to be able to see. You can’t make any decisions until you know what’s between you and your Papa's gun tucked up safe underneath your bed.

Slowly your eyes flicker over to the lamp on your table, just within reach.

You suck a little gasp into your lungs to steel your nerve. The air is less sour in here—more familiar, a little more comforting—but the acrid scent of the desert still lingers on the edge of each breath. Slowly you reach towards the lamp and flick it on.

“PLEASE DON’T SHOOT ME!”

The frantic plea frightens you so terribly that it sends you tumbling to the hard floor, landing flat on your ass with your back thumping painfully into the wall beside your door. In front of you is a face that has no right being as familiar as it is; eyes wide in panic beneath a round pair of glasses, blonde hair tousled in disarray, two hands (one flesh and one crafted) lifted in innocence.

Your heart is beating even faster now under the tight pull of your laced waistcoat.

“Are you an idiot?” you hiss, instinctively tugging your boot off your foot and lobbing it forcefully at the unexpected intruder. “You scared the daylights outta me!”

The man sidesteps the projectile easily, and it clatters to the floor. The expression on his face morphs from one of panic to something a little more chagrined.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, drawing out the word. His tone sheepish, and his lips pull into an apologetic little smile.

You place a trembling hand on your chest, pressing down on the spot where you feel your heart thumping the hardest and willing it to slow. You stare at your scuffed floorboards and take a few breaths to ease the frenetic beat of your pulse, and feel yourself begin to wilt as the adrenaline in your veins starts to fade.

“How’d you get in here, Vash the Stampede?” you ask, looking up again at the man in front of you from your place on the ground.

“I knocked first,” he says with a grimace, “but you weren’t home and I…”

“Broke in because you’ve got someone looking for you?” you finish his explanation for him, your tone flat and entirely unsurprised.

He sighs, shoulders slumping dejectedly as his head hangs forward.

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

He lifts his chin only enough to guiltily meet your gaze.

“It’s just for one night,” he murmurs the plea, his bottom lip weighed down by a pout.

You shut your eyes tight, hands balling into fists over your skirt to hide the way they tremble.

“Fine.”

Vash falls to his knees in front of you, hands pressed to the floor as he gets right up in your face with a wide, cheerful grin. He’s almost nose to nose with you, the light of the lamp glinting in his glasses.

“Thanks so much! I promise I’ll be outta here before you know it!”

He doesn’t need to tell you that, because the pang in your empty stomach tells you that, even unspoken, you already knew it to be true.

Vash is travelling light again, just like the last time you saw him. He’s only got one bag that he begins to unpack onto the rickety table in your kitchen, leaving you to quietly go about your own business like you would if you hadn’t found him in your home that night. On the other side of the kitchen you unpack the meagre amount of food you’d managed to buy for yourself that day from little satchel you carried it home in. It’s barely enough food for one, and now you’ll have to stretch it between two.

“Where’s your father?” Vash asks as he fiddles with his gun at the table behind you. “I thought it was him coming through the door, and I thought for sure he was gonna blow my—“

“He’s dead.”

The silence that follows is heavy. Uncomfortable, even. Vash’s hands still even as yours keep quietly peeling the sad, withered skin from the vegetable in your hand with the blade of a half-dulled knife.

“I’m sorry,” his next words are quiet. “Your father was a nice man.”

“My father was a drunk who got himself shot in a bar fight with a merchant who came to town and was talking big. He just worshipped you because you saved the plant.”

That same uncomfortable silence creeps in again in the wake of your words, but after a few moments you hear Vash pick up his tools and start tinkering away at whatever he’s working on once more.

“Is the plant still running?” Vash is the first to speak again, though a fair amount of time passes before he risks another attempt at conversation.

“More or less,” you remark, setting a little pot on the stove to boil with whatever ingredients you’d been able to scrounge together into a meal. You watch the flame of the element burst to life as you flick the switch, a little hiss as the fire licks at the edges of your only copper pot. “Some days it’s more reliable than others. But whatever you did seems to be holding up all right.”

“Good!” Vash says behind you. “That’s good.”

You turn to face him, the unevenly mended hem of your skirt swishing around your ankles. You lean against the little countertop behind you, with your arms crossed behind your back.

“I’ll pop by the plant before I leave town—”

You watch as Vash’s fingers nimbly fiddle with his gun, broken down into its component parts to be cleaned and maintained. You’re sure it doesn’t need it—are certain he’s fired less shots from that gun in the two years since you’ve seen him than you’ve heard in town this week alone—but it’s kind of nice to watch him work, to appreciate how certain and precise his every move is, and to see how concentrated he is while he goes about it.

“—just to make sure everything’s still in good shape.”

He looks up at you, like for the first time he feels your gaze as it traces the lines of his profile. He smiles again, that same wide, willful expression of cheer that he always endeavours to wear even though he might be the person least entitled to it.

You hum. “I’m sure everyone would appreciate that. You should stop by to see Rosa too, she’ll box my ear if she finds out you blew though town and didn’t go see her.”

The two of you eat across the table from one another in silence. Just the scrape of cutlery and the occasional loud swallow passing between the two of you. Vash seems hungry, but appears to be trying his best to be at least a little restrained as he eats with you. Even though you’d given him the larger of the two portions, he’s still finished his plate before you’ve finished yours, but he sits patiently across from you waiting for you to swallow your final bite.

“I’ll take these,” he jumps to his feet before you have the chance to even push your chair back from the table, snatching both of your dishes up into his hands. “I’ll clean up, since you’re letting me stay.”

You don’t deny him, and instead slump back into your seat, dragging your wrist along your forehead. Your skin feels grimy from the hot day and the filth outside. Normally you would have bathed before you cooked, but you hadn’t eaten a proper meal all day—and Vash looked like it may have been even longer than that.

“I’m gonna wash,” you say, standing from your seat. You pause, your fingertips tracing against the rough, rutted surface of the tabletop. You know you don’t have enough water for two baths in your tank. You used to bathe with your mother when you were little, then once you were older and Mama was gone, you got the bathwater first and Papa would get in after you were done. It’s never been an issue until now. “Er—Vash?”

At the sink where your uninvited house guest is scrubbing at the dishes in the washbasin that you’d filled ahead of time, Vash pauses, glancing at you over his shoulder. He’s taken off his familiar red coat, left hanging off the chair he’d been seated in at the table, and the black turtleneck he wears beneath it stretches taut over the musculature of his back as it faces you.

“The bath… there’s only enough water to fill it once. I don’t…Do you want…?” you aren’t sure what you’re even trying to ask him, but whatever is coming out of your mouth is even less clear than the thoughts running through your head.

“I’ll bathe second, don’t worry about me.”

Vash’s smile is gentle and obliging, his eyes crinkling at the corners as they narrow into little crescents. You nod stiffly, feeling heat flush through you at the softness in his expression, and shuffle off towards the other side of your home while avoiding his gaze.

The walls of your home are paper thin, and you’re certain that Vash can hear the splash of water in the tub as clearly as you can hear the scratchy, garbled sound of his radio from the other room. Once your skin’s been scrubbed clean of the day, you sit in the water with your knees pulled to your chest and your chin tucked between them. You strain to try to make out what’s being broadcast, but it’s difficult to hear since the reception in town is always so piss poor, and whatever coherent bits of news you manage to catch are just as abysmal as always.

It’s strange, hearing someone else in the house. It’s something you didn’t realize had become so foreign to you in the time you’ve learned to live alone. The idle puttering in the other room is a sound you didn’t realize you had missed. You lean back and dunk yourself into the water, where everything goes quiet.

The bathwater never gets very hot to begin with—tepid at the best of times, which seems unfair given the climate—but you know it’s not fair to waste time in the tub when someone else is waiting for it. You pull yourself up out of the metal basin, careful not to disturb the stopper in the bottom of the tub, and dry as much water from your skin as you can. Once you’ve deemed yourself sufficiently towelled, you pull on your nightdress and a threadbare housecoat overtop.

Vash looks up from the chair in the corner by the window when you emerge from the bathroom, and he meets your eyes so unwaveringly it feels decidedly like he’s trying hard not to let his gaze wander elsewhere. You fidget under his stare, fiddling with the fraying ends of the towel around your neck that’s catching the droplets that fall from your hair. He must realize that he’s unnerving you, because he averts his eyes to a point on the wall over your shoulder after a moment.

“My turn?” he asks, his tone chipper but polite.

“All yours,” you nod, stepping into your bedroom and leaving him to his business.

There’s an old trunk at the bottom of your bed where you keep some of the things your father left that you haven’t yet been able to sell or make use of. You find an old shirt of his near the very bottom, soft and worn-thin from years of washing. It’s something you could have easily sold or traded by now, but that you couldn’t quite bring yourself to part with—though you’re certain the day will inevitably come when sentimentality can no longer outweigh your basic needs.

You stand outside the bathroom door for a moment, your father’s shirt clutched tightly in your hands. You can hear the splash of bathwater you’re sure has gone cold from where you stand, only a few feet and a thin door between you.

You muster your nerve and tap your knuckles lightly against the door.

“I have a shirt if you need something to—“

The door opens, and you find yourself unexpectedly facing the bare chest of your one-night housemate, still damp and glistening from the bath, lined with silvery scars that the low light catches on.

You toss the shirt at him unceremoniously and turn quickly away, and Vash himself makes a little sound of surprise.

“Sorry, I didn’t expect you to be—“

“It’s fine,” you answer before he can even finish his apology, still refusing to meet his gaze. You gesture vaguely over your shoulder without turning. “Just take that.”

The bathroom door clicks closed again, and you clutch the belt of your housecoat over your diaphragm.

You need a drink.

You cross your home to the cabinet in your kitchen, reaching to the back of the nearly-bare shelf and pulling out a dusty old bottle that’s been there since your father died. It wouldn’t have lasted a day if he were still living, and you’ve made it years without ever so much as cracking it open.

Today however, you feel it’s well-deserved.

The dust caked on the bottle smears against your palm as you open it, and you wipe the grime furiously against the material of your housecoat as you pour a long glug of the amber liquor into a waiting glass. It’s vile, lukewarm from the constant heat of your home, and burns every inch of the way down—but as you set the empty glass back onto the counter, you still find yourself grateful for it.

You pour another drink.

“Take it easy,” you hear a voice say behind you, accompanied by a breathy little laugh.

You turn and see Vash hovering not far from you, his black turtleneck folded over one arm and your father’s shirt over his no-longer-bare chest. His hair is wet, a towel draped around his shoulders just like yours, and he’s taken off his usual eyewear. The mole underneath his eye seems more prominent now that he’s scrubbed himself clean.

Your empty glass dangles from the tips of your fingers, the acerbic taste of the liquor lingering on your tongue. You hold it out to him in offering, and he scrunches up his nose a little bit.

“I really shouldn’t—“

“It’s rude to turn down a drink your host is offering you, y’know.”

Things like rudeness don’t mean anything to anyone these days, least of all yourself. Decency is a luxury few people can afford.

Vash sighs, still smiling, and takes the glass from you. Your fingers brush as it passes from your hand to his, and then you take the bottle and pour another healthy splash into the waiting cup. He brings it to his lips, wincing against the fumes alone that waft up from the glass.

“It’s better if you don’t sip it,” you offer him, though even then you know the guidance doesn’t help much.

He tips it back and drains it.

Two drinks were enough to have you feeling woozy, but you pour yourself a third for good measure. You spare Vash the pain of another, much to his apparent relief, and let him off with just the one before tucking the half-drained bottle back into the cupboard you’d dug it out of.

When you turn around again, Vash is crouched down, examining something on the ground.

Your boot. The one you’d thrown at him earlier.

He peers up at you from the floor, he lifts the shoe slightly.

“It broke again.”

A memory floods back to you then, unbidden.

Sitting side by side with Vash on the edge of the steps outside the same house you live in now, but when the way you lived was different. The plant had just been repaired, and there was a palpable feeling of effervescent joy sizzling through the town around you. An uncharacteristic camaraderie amongst the people of Jeneora Rock as the celebration of Vash’s handiwork spreading through the narrow, grimy streets. The two of you were away from it all, sitting quietly together in a strange sort of celebration of your own.

You were less a woman than you were a girl back then, but still somehow neither. He’d patched the sole of your boot back on when it had ripped loose. And you’d laughed when he handed it back to you with an endearingly clumsy flourish, the sound as high and bright as the sun that hung in the sky overhead. You still remember the way your laughter had made his smile grow.

The patch job had lasted a year. You’d sobbed the day it came loose again, just shortly after the death of your father. You’d been using twine tied tightly around the toe of the boot to hold it together ever since.

Vash blinks up at you from the ground as you stare down at him with what you’re sure is a vacant look in your eyes.

“I brought you something,” he says, hopping up and skittering over to his rucksack with your boot still in his hand. He rifles around in the bag for a moment, his mechanical arm shoulder deep as he roots for what he’s looking for. His eyebrows shoot up and he grins when he locates it—a wide, brilliant smile splitting across his face as he pulls his arm out.

He holds his find up in triumph.

You look at it with narrowed eyes.

“What… is it?” you ask, after a moment of trying to identify the small, relatively unremarkable little container in his hand.

“Boot glue!” he says excitedly, waving it in front of your face. “I thought of you when I saw it! The merchant wanted an arm and a leg for it but I managed to—”

Tears have sprung up in your eyes against your will, and you quickly turn away from him to hide them from his sight.

“Hey, are you okay?” Vash’s voice is softer now, less enthusiastic and more concerned.

That softness is what upsets you more than anything. Tenderness is a foreign thing in the desolation of the wastelands.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, scrubbing your hand over your stinging eyes.

For thinking of me.

For knowing that you’d come back.

You leave that part off, but you feel it just as much as what you say.

You drain that third glass that’s been sitting on the counter waiting for you, hoping the burn of the liquor as it sloshes down your throat to your stomach will give you something else to focus on. Or, if nothing else, that it might numb the sudden pain that’s laid roots down in your core.

Vash sits at the table as he patches up your boot under the lamplight, much like he had the first time. You watch him from the chair in the corner, under the shuttered window, with your knees drawn up into your seat with you. You’re more shameless now than you had been while he cleaned his gun, observing him keenly as he scrubs your boot with a rag and leftover water from the dish pan. He makes sure no more grime clings to it before he carefully smears a thick layer of the glue along the sole, pressing down firmly to make sure the adhesion takes. He holds the boot up in front of him when he’s done, his tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth, eyeing it from every angle to survey his own work.

You watch him just as raptly.

He turns in his seat once he’s satisfied, holding the boot up.

“All done!” he says, hopping up to his feet and shuffling towards you. He crouches down in front of you and holds out his hand expectantly. Slowly, you stick your foot out, and he cradles it gently in his roughened palm.

Carefully he slips the boot onto your foot, tightening the laces once it’s fully in place.

“How’s it feel?” he asks you, peeking up at you from his place on the floor.

“Feels good,” you reply, with an equally breathy tone.

The lamplight doesn’t reach this corner of the room quite as brightly as it does at the table, but you can still make out a blush that sits high and pretty at the top of Vash’s cheeks. You wonder if he’s starting to feel the flush thanks to the liquor, or if maybe it’s something else entirely.

“G-good!” he stammers a little, fiddling with the laces at your ankle. “I’m glad!”

“That glue must have been expensive,” you say. “Thank you, Vash.”

He shoots you a smile as he loops his fingers through the laces. “It's the least I could do, especially with you putting me up for the night.”

For the night.

Just for the night.

The reminder makes you ache a little.

Vash helps you slip your boot off again, carrying it over to the door and setting it down beside its mate.

“I’ll leave this here for you, in case you need it again,” he says, screwing the top back onto the little pot of adhesive at the table. “There’s not much left, but there’s some.”

You nod from your seat in the corner, one leg up and one leg still down—your nightdress drawn up to your knee from when he’d helped you into your boot.

Vash ruffles the hair at the nape of his neck, dry now after his bath. Yours remains a little damp, but you’re sure it won’t last long as the residual heat from the day still hangs in the air even though the sun has long set.

“It’s late,” he finally says after a moment. “You should sleep.”

You hum in agreement, moving to stand from your chair. The room spins slightly around you, those three glasses you’d knocked back sneaking up on you while you’d been sitting down. Your foot hooks in the hem of your nightdress because of the way you’d been sitting, but before you can stumble theres a strong arm wrapped around your waist to keep you steady. A warmth pressing into you as your face meets a heaving chest.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Vash murmurs, his grip on you tightening for the briefest moment.

Your hands clutch at his shirt, and you don’t meet his eyes as you nod, letting him lead you towards your bedroom.

Your hands fumble at the belt of your nightdress, pulling it off and tossing the garment across the end of your bed as Vash helps you onto the mattress. You tuck your feet under the thin sheet before leaning back against your pillows, and Vash is quick to turn and head towards the door after helping you pull it up to your waist.

“Wait,” you call to him before he can retreat. He pauses in the doorway, glancing at you over his shoulder. “Where are you going to sleep?”

You hadn’t thought much about this, and you ought to have considered it earlier. You only have the one bed, but you have two pillows you can share and a spare blanket in the trunk at the end of it that you could offer him if he wants to sleep on the floor.

But you don’t want to tell him that.

“I’ll just take the chair,” he says with a blithe smile, jutting his thumb towards the armchair in the other room.

It won’t be comfortable. You know that from experience, having fallen asleep there a few times yourself after a particularly gruelling day. The stuffing is lumpy and the springs are painful if you press against them the wrong way. You know he won’t complain about it. You even know that it’s probably still more comfortable than lots of other places he’s rested his head over the past two years.

But you want to be selfish.

For once you don’t want to be alone.

“Vash,” you say quietly, and you watch his entire body go rigid at the sudden bare vulnerability of your tone. “Please stay with me.”

You’d asked him the same thing once before, but different. The words once murmured desperately against his lips as you clung to his red jacket. Staring at him with eyes full of hope and a freshly patched boot on your foot.

He’d looked at you the same way back then too. That smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. As gentle of a no that he could ever offer you.

“I know you have to leave,” you murmur, eyes downcast to your hands as they rest atop your lap. “I don’t expect anything like that from you. I know it’s just for tonight.”

“Please don’t cry.”

The bed dips beside you, and Vash tilts your face up towards him. He looks troubled when you meet his gaze, even in the dim light of your bedroom you can make out the conflict on his features. It’s strange to see him not smiling, wrong almost.

But your eyes are dry.

“Stay,” you repeat yourself, meeting his gaze resolutely. You swallow hard over the lump in your throat, bracing yourself for the impending sear of rejection.

Vash cups your cheeks in his hands, and you can’t tell if it’s your cheeks or his touch that feels so warm.

“You deserve someone that can say yes to that and mean it properly,” he says ruefully, not dissimilarly to what he’d said the first time you’d asked the very same thing of him.

“I’m not asking anyone else,” you whisper, “I’m asking you."

You wonder if your mouth still tastes like liquor as Vash’s tongue dips inside of it, hovering over you as you lay sprawled across your bed.

It didn’t start like this, of course. The first kiss had been gentle, hesitant even—like Vash wasn’t quite sure if he was going to see it through at all, poised to flee at any moment. But neither of you could deny how right it felt when his lips brushed yours, an immediate wash of relief and of unadulterated want inundating you all at once. You’d been the one to crane up and bridge the gap, but soon Vash was crawling into your bed overtop of you, easing you back to lay flat as he succumbed to the same need you felt thrumming through your veins.

Your hands are tangled in his hair now—a gesture that earned you a pitchy, needy little groan from him as your fingers twisted through the blonde strands. It only seemed to make him more eager as he parted his lips against your own in a deeper kiss.

There’s something a little clumsy about it all, an eagerness and inexperience to every touch and graze. But it’s not the same as it was at first, no longer hesitant or wary—his reservations have been peeled away as surely as the clothes the two of you are wearing, until you feel nothing but his skin against your own.

Vash’s hands are as greedy and rapacious as his mouth; touching, grabbing, grazing anything he can reach. His calloused fingers cup themselves around the swell of your chest, squeezing lightly, and when you reward him with a little moan it stokes the flames of his curiosity, and his touch moves to the pebbled bud of your nipple next. He rolls it tentatively between his fingers, pinching ever so slightly, and when you gasp against his mouth, arching further into his touch, he makes his own little pleased sound of surprise before lavishing your other breast with equal attention.

His metal hand touches you more gingerly than the other, and he tends to favour the one made of flesh and bone. The contrast in sensations is a little disorienting—smooth, hard metal versus the life-roughened heat of skin on skin. It’s dizzying. You want more.

“Vash,” you murmur against his mouth.

Your lips are stinging now from the constant kissing. He’s scarcely left your mouth uncovered by his own since they first connected, but at your hoarse whisper of his name he pulls back slightly, watching your face for any sign of reproach.

“Touch me more, please,” you say to him, cupping his cheeks as he presses his forehead into yours, both of you sharing the same breath in the little space between you.

He makes a sound halfway between a grunt and a hum, nodding a little, and kisses you again as his hands slip further down your willing, waiting form.

If he’s surprised by the wet wet heat he finds between your legs, it doesn’t stop him. One finger and then two find their way inside you slowly; he moves in gentle thrusts and scissoring motions that have your jaw going slack. His palm presses against the swell of your clit, and each time your hips jump it grinds into the heel of his palm, earning a keen from the back of your throat.

“Feels good?” Vash trails kisses up the top of your cheek until his lips are by your ear. His breathing is laboured and the air of each breath is hot as it ghosts across your skin. Your tongue feels leaden, but you nod repeatedly, wrapping your arms around his neck and keeping him close.

“Yeah,” you finally manage to breathe out, “’s good.”

It’s even better when you feel the stretch of him pressing himself inside.

The sound that’s pulled from the depth of Vash’s broad chest as he carves his way into you makes your toes curl—high and sweet and desperate.

“’S hot,” he slurs, his hips giving a shallow, desperate thrust.

He’s needy, pulling you closer as he moves you how he wants you. He loops your knees up over his elbows, his mouth frantically finding it’s way back to yours as the weight of his entire body bears down on you.

The next thrust is harder, deeper. And the pace only increases after that.

The rickety headboard of your old bed knocks against the wall each time he brings his hips down against yours. It’s loud, but so is the sound of skin on skin, and you have the distant thought as the bed frame creaks that it sounds like it might splinter underneath you—but you don’t find it in yourself to care as the pressure in you core steadily builds, threatening to burst. It blinds and deafens you to anything but the pulse that pounds in your throat. It makes your fingers curl against the skin of Vash’s shoulder blades until your nails dig into skin.

He’s still kissing you, wet and messy and noisy as his tongue presses into your mouth. He never stops kissing you.

It's nice to be with someone. To be touched. To feel wanted and needed.

Especially by him.

Your eyes flutter open, and as though he can sense your gaze on him Vash’s do the same. His expression is heavy-lidded as he pants, a little drop of sweat sitting high on the edge of his blushing cheek. He smiles a little, a soft, gentle expression you’ve never seen before.

A tenderness in his gaze unlike any you’ve ever experienced.

The pressure in your core comes undone.

He takes your face in his hands as pleasure rips through you like a sandstorm, blistering and unescapable. He’s still kissing you. Keeping you so near. In the haze it’s hard to tell where you end and he begins, everything clouded into something thats both and somehow neither. Something new.

“Close,” Vash whines, grinding his hips down against your own.

Your muscles ache, the pleasure has worn you raw, and your lungs are pricking with the need for a full deep breath you haven’t been able to draw into them now for some time. But even so, you don’t want it to be over. Can’t bear the thought of being apart.

The headboard rattles a few more times, and then the pressure between your legs is gone as Vash pulls out and spatters his spend across your stomach with a long, low groan.

It’s hot. The mess on your skin, the sweat that clings to you, the paltry breaths of air you draw into your lungs. Even the sheets of your bed have absorbed the heat from both of your bodies, sticking to your skin as you collapse into them in boneless heaps, chests heaving and hearts racing side by side.

You tilt your face towards the boy crowded into your narrow bed beside you, and find him watching you expectantly.

“You okay?” he asks, brushing a piece of hair away from your eyes.

You hum, leaning into his touch.

Vash’s gaze travels down your body, eyeing the mess he’s made of you with wide eyes. He pops up suddenly, clambering out of bed and tripping clumsily over the sheet that’s fallen half-way off the mattress as he skitters out the door. You’re not too worried that he’s going far, considering he’s still stark naked, but you watch the doorway curiously as you wait for him to return.

When he does, he has a cloth in hand—still damp from your bath earlier in the evening. As gently as he can, Vash cleans you up; the cloth cool is against your sticky skin, and feels nice. Once he’s satisfied with his handiwork, he presses a kiss to the valley between your ribs, lifting his face to smile up at you.

You shoot him a feeble smile back.

He slips into bed beside you once more, crawling up towards the pillows and pulling the rumpled sheet up to your chins as he goes. He settles in, and with one sweep of his arm he tucks you safely against his chest, with your ear resting over his heart. His hand pats gently along the back of your hair down your spine, keeping you close to him.

Vash smells good. Clean and comforting. It makes you think of the place your mother told you about once. You wonder if he smells like that place, or maybe even better.

You wonder if he’s ever been there before.

You wonder if he’d tell you if you asked.

You open your eyes, though the effort pains you in your exhaustion, and you see him peering back at you. Vash’s lips pull into a smile, but it's one of the ones that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. An expression that you know is more for you than it is for himself.

You think the two of you have a lot in common, then. That maybe the two of you understand the same loneliness. The same feeling of being haunted.

Your ghosts live on in the trunk at the end of your bed and at the back of your cupboard, covered in dust, tucked away out of sight.

Vash’s live on inside of him, and it’s where he seems determined to keep them.

In that moment you know that even if you were to ask, he’d tell you nothing—and he’d do it for your own sake.

Tomorrow you’ll wake and the air will smell bitter and burnt, and he’ll be gone, but your boot will be mended, and the little pot of glue will remind you he was there. But tonight you’ll dream about the place your Mama told you about, and tomorrow you’ll still have the smell that clings to your sheets. So for now, the world smells different.

And that has to be enough.

#vash the stampede x reader #vash the stampede x you #vash x reader #vash x you #vash the stampede #trigun stampede fic #trigun stampede writing #writing

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matan4il · 3 months

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Daily update post:

Amazing news on the 129th day of the war: Israel's army has rescued 2 hostages from Gaza, 70 years old Luis Har and 60 years old Fernando Merman (they're two of 5 family members who were all kidnapped together, including Clara Merman who I mentioned before. The women were released as a part of the hostage deal, roughly 2 months ago). The rescue operation was started at roughly 1 in the morning, lasted about 1 hour from the first to the last bullet fired, and took place in Rafah, the last city in Gaza under full Hamas control. That Israel managed to do it in Hamas' last stronghold makes this operation (which required a lot of forces and VERY accurate intel) even more impressive, certainly when you consider how the difference between success and tragic failure in such complex operations is SO small. The IDF spokesman said that from the moment the soldiers broke in, they physically embraced Fernando and Luis to shield the hostages with the soldiers' own body (we've heard from released hostages that the terrorists told then in case of a rescue operation, the orders are for the terrorist to kill them, them themselves. I'm gonna admit, that's when I started crying. I was so happy to hear these two men are okay, but being reminded that young men, with their whole lives ahead of them, physically put their bodies between these elderly men and the terrorists' bullets got to me. It goes against every evolutionary instinct that human beings are supposed to have, and yet... And the truth is, that's what all of our soldiers are doing, they're putting themselves between us, all Israeli citizens, and the brutal violence of the terrorists.

On the left and Luis on the right:

Hamas has made its own announcement about this operation, of course not saying a word about the freed hostages, and instead blaming Israel of committing a massacre. Hamas, which started this whole war by massacring over (at least) 1,200 people, most of which were civilians, and kidnapping over 240 human beings, is accusing Israel of committing a massacre because Hamas says dozens of people were killed (according to the soldiers who engaged in fire with them, there's no question that most of the people killed weren't "uninvolved civilians") during the rescue of the civilians kidnapped by Hamas. Make it make sense. Soap opera logic doesn't make my head hurt as much as that of antisemites.

Yesterday, there were two stabbing terrorist attacks in Jerusalem and near it. The first one happened in the Old City, ending with one person wounded and the terrorist neutralized. The other took place outside the town of Beitar Illit, no one was wounded, the terrorist was neutralized. On a personal note, there's an expert doctor who I've been going to in Jerusalem, and he called me back on a very specific date, but when I called his secretary, it turns out he's fully booked for an entire month past that day. My one option to see him around the date he mentioned, is to go see him at his Beitar Illit clinic. We're talking about a clinic that's 15 minutes from my home, yet right now I feel terrified of going there. It feels like if I go, I may pay for it dearly, and if I don't go, I may pay for it dearly. It's my own country, my ancestral homeland, a place my ancestors, who lived in the same place as I do, weren't scared to travel to. This is not a normal reality, and anyone calling this "resistance" just means they're against Jews having a normal life.

Once more, a Gazan journalist was revealed to be a Hamas terrorist. This time, it's a man who has been reporting for Al Jazeera (which has a long history of antisemitism), and has now been determined to have been a Hamas senior, developing anti-tank missiles for the terrorist organization. I just wanna point out that anti-tank missiles were fired at homes in Israeli civilian communities, including on Oct 7. Please keep in mind these countless journalist who are also linked with Hamas when you hear the lie that Israel is targeting journalists just for reporting.

A 21 years old Palestinian, convicted for terrorist acts, who had been released as a part of the hostage deal, was arrested yesterday after trying to infiltrate Israel using a stolen Israeli ID card. This is the third released convicted terrorist I've heard of to be arrested since the hostage deal in December 2023. There might have been more that I missed. This is a reminder that a terrifyingly high percentage of prematurely released terrorist end up returning to terrorist activity in one capacity or another.

On the same day that Israeli IDF troops courage and willingness to self sacrifice made me cry, we also learned that two soldiers were killed tonight, in a separate (earlier) fight to the one where the hostages were released (in a different part of Gaza). Still, while they might not have been standing physically in front of Israeli civilians, but protecting them is exactly what they did. Every operation that saves a hostage is made possible by the army's presence and progress in Gaza. If soldiers were able to free hostages in the southern part of Gaza, it's thanks to each one fighting (and dying) in the northern parts, too. So today, I'm gonna remember that, as we say goodbye to these two 21 year olds. Our hearts bleed with their families for this loss. May their memory be a blessing.

These are 32 years old Eynav Levy and her 33 years old husband Or.

On Oct 7, they arrived at the Nova music festival just minutes before Hamas' attack started. Eynav was murdered, while Or was taken hostage to Gaza. They have a 2 years old baby, Almog. He doesn't understand, and there is no way to explain to him, where his parents have disappeared to. May Eynav's memory be a blessing, and Or return, so his son will still have at least one parent.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #israelunderattack #resources

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rustytrident · 1 year

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i think the hc that occupies my brain the most is the "demonic nature is kinda like human world animals' instincts" so here is the breakdown no one asked for: why i believe demons are much less scary after you actually get to know them!

so, in case it hasn't been evident in my three posts and some lint i have about obey me on here (sarcasm) i am obsessed with the idea that even the most powerful of demons aren't able to resist their demonic urges. like their brain kind of blacks out?? and they do whatever tf either demon brain or sin brain (or both) tells them to do.

lucifer checks himself out on every. single. reflective. surface. fixing his collar, combing his hair, straightening his sleeves – he absolutely hates when he realises he does it but demon brain goes "oohhh!!! it's me im here!!" and sin brain goes "ihavetolookmybestatalltimespleasetellmeilookgood". every time he catches himself with his hand midway through his hair he sighs and tries to go on with his day (one time satan and belphie pranked him by putting mirrors everywhere) (they didn't know lucifer has memorised the layout of the hol and can walk anywhere with his eyes closed).

mammon is that one kid that touches anything shiny and sparkly. you could be wearing highlighter and just feel a poke on your cheek. turn around. it's your demon boy. his pupils are dilated. finger still on your face. half a toof fang sticking out of his mouth. fucking elated. glittery shiny sparkly holographic things are his demon brain cocomelon. sin brain just hoards any and all glittery shiny sparkly holographic things he can find. whenever he's upset he watches those slime or chalk asmr videos but they have to be the ones where the creators use a whole bag of glitter (or! or! the ones where people flick brushes full of glitter above their cameras in slow motion yknow the ones).

leviathan has to be quirky different not like other girls. he has to be the one with the most marine knowledge in the family, the one with the most ruri knowledge in the family – you get the point. i believe he has a touch of the demon tism so if you think you know anything about his special interests no you don't. he was actually there when it happened so joke's on you. yes he did witness the creation of the first amoeba now move. he's also that younger sibling that sees you get praise for doing something and does the exact same thing to get praise too. sin brain goes "if they get that then i have to have it". you see him wearing your clothes sometimes and when you think back you remember you got a compliment on it about a week ago (week agoo 🕺💃) and like yeah. makes sense (pls tell him he's pretty pls).

satan has chewy toys and wears a retainer pretty frequently because that wrath may be chronic but them teeth won't stay there for long if he keeps baring them!! he buys new ones once a month because he absolutely tears through them and everyone is just used to him popping in his acrylic retainer every time lucifer comes in the room. he isn't even half ashamed of his toys because trust me it's not a cute sight. this man is one of the most imposing beings you have ever encountered creating holes with his teeth in places you believe there weren't any before through what you're guessing used to be something green and made of rubber, but you aren't too sure. you ask him what's wrong and he just stares at you blankly and goes "nothing? why would anything be?". it's just a casual case of both demon and sin brain going "AUURGHHHDHS *chomp*". absolutely feral unicorn man with the straightest teeth you've ever seen.

asmodeus is in the same predicament as lucifer when it comes to checking himself out but instead he embraces the moment. and checks other people out too, as long as what they're wearing catches his attention. he's a very touchy demon so you can find him absentmindedly having his hands on you without even realising he does it: twirling a strand of your hair, playing with your fingers, tracing your jawline. it's just that demon brain goes "ohoho!! my humnan look at my humin go!!" and can't not touch you after that. he also bites. you think it would be mammon or beel but nope it's asmo!! you're just too pretty and he wants to feel close to you!! don't bring it up though he gets embarrassed. you know that meme where person a says "i wonder what i taste like" and person b says "i can help with that" and a imagines a kiss and b imagines biting person a? yeah, inside asmo are two wolves.

beelzebub is the randomest fucking demon in that household idc. he's always so quiet and you never know what he's thinking until one day he brings home a human world ostrich like it's nothing and gives it a "tour of its new home"??? absolutely insane. he also buzzes randomly?? like you'll be hanging out in the common room and all of a sudden you hear "bbzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz" only for another brother to go "beel. i can't concentrate on my book. please refrain from buzzing inside the house"??? hello??? i think he's got a passion for cleaning too (thousands of years of food and blood stains, crumbs and mould have taught him a couple things) so he is always ready to assist in cleaning his brother's rooms and won't stop until they look brand new. his most demon brain moment is when he lifts things. doesn't matter what or how heavy it is, if he sees something new around him he has to give it a little lift. same thing with the people he's fond of. you have been grabbed by the armpits one too many times to have an impromptu simba moment for three seconds, only for beel to just go on with his day, no explanation. what a demon *sighs dreamily*.

belphegor is the most like his familiars (or at least his habits are most prominent). you see the demon chewing and chewing and chewing like one bite of food and if you dare look at him weird he gives you the cow stare (pls tell me you know what im talking about). you see him in full demon form running headfirst into a wall with his horns (#satan_and_belphie_bonding_activity) and if you dare look at him weird he gives you the cow stare. kinda like his twin, he does random moo or hffphhhmp noises according to his mood without realising ("no belphegor, you can not destroy every wall in this house with your horns" "moOOO"). demon brain goes brrrr with some human world grass and some sunshine. like he absolutely loves being in that mediterranean countryside, twirling some grass between his fingers, eating it, living his life. best brother to go on a picnic with hands down.

fucking dorks *heart eyes*

#obey me #obey me shall we date #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #satan x reader #asmodeus x reader #beelzebub x reader #belphegor x reader #sing me a song // the song of our glory

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jewish-vents · 20 days

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'bout a month and a half ago I sent in a rant about how scared every Jewish person has been since 10/7, since "the world stopped pretending it cared about us" well I'm done being scared. Now I'm just fucking angry. I'm angry that people think we deserve this. I'm angry that people are spreading misinformation on purpose. I'm angry that I can't do anything except pray that things will turn out okay. I'm angry that they get to march in the streets and I'm forced to stay inside so I don't get stabbed. I'm angry that they get to scream in my face how I'm a "colonizer, genocide supporter, kill babies for fun" and I'm forced to stay quiet so that I don't get killed. I'm angry that they get to shut down bridges, airports, disrupt society, riot, be violent and everyone calls it activism. But if any Jew dares to ask that our family be released from their torturous kidnappers we're jumped on. I'm angry that Jews are celebrated for 'refuting their Jewishness' but to denounce Hamas is something none of these people can seem to do. I'm angry that nobody fucking cares.

I wish I could punch someone and call it 'activism'. I wish I could march in the streets begging for my family to be saved. I wish I could scream in the faces of the people who hang "rape is a valid form of resistance" posters. I wish I could do anything. but I can't even tell my classmates and coworkers why I'm not coming in on April 22nd, I can't explain why I can't answer an email on Saturday.

Thank you for reaching out again!

You know, it was quite cathartic to read your vent. I too feel angry, many of us do. And anger can be a scary emotion to have, especially when society tries telling us we're not allowed to feel it. But you are. Feel that anger, talk to it, understand it. It comes from a place of deep pain and betrayal, and like any other emotion it is not only valid but important. Hold your anger like it's a child and say what you wish people would say to you. Ask it things like "why do you feel angry? What do you want to tell me? For how long do you need to feel angry? How can I help you feel better when you're ready to feel better?". Within what's safe for you and others, don't shy away from your anger. If you need some ideas of ways to cope with that anger, to express it in healthy ways or to calm down, don't be afraid to reach out and ask.

Also important, don't let only anger exist. Remember to hold space for other emotions.

Stay safe, and honestly get rightfully angry once in a while

- 🐺

#jewish vents #antisemitism #leftist antisemitism #jumblr #antisemitism on tumblr #i/p #october 7 #mental health #anger #coping

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gogolstoelicker · 4 months

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Dorm leaders with a Razor!MC

a/n: totally lost the pookie who asked for this but if by some miracle yk its you, pls dont beat me up for taking so long </3 /j

also if tumblr did smth weird with the bullet points again, point ur guns at the app

its one week before my exams so im using my adrealine for smth!!

You are generally good-natured person who considers your wolf pack your family and becomes enraged if they are hurt by other parties. You love your wolf family but dislike the fact that you aren't fully like them. You considered the few humans you do encounter to be your friends and are willing to protect them from danger if it means sacrificing your and your pack's dinner for the night. You are a quick thinker. You are also honest and forthright due to your limited exposure to human life. You are not used to speaking and only speak in short phrases and words, finding it troublesome, but you continue nonetheless.

Riddle

my mans stopping you like this to take a look at your uniform

pookie, youre a lil messy rn -he said this in anger, I'm just giving you the nicer version

its ok, he helped you clean up a lil after!!

u absolutely trying not to mess up the collar and tie up bcs its so uncomfortable:😢😔

it always goes back to the messy version as soon as hes out of sight or its half the day already

he wont find out (i lied he absolutely did)

he can always count on u to tell him the truth should your friends ever do smth bad

"broke. chair." while pointing at ace and deuece

they have tears in their eyes as riddle approach them

honestly some of ur behaviour makes him go⁉️

fr thought u were a beastman or smth

then found out youre just a human whos lived with wolves their whole life

FUCKEKEKE REMEMBER THAT TIME IN HIS OVERBLOT WHEN HE WAS TALKING ABT PARENTS

u being an orphan as he goes on with his speech: /JOKE

ace beats his ass up for u its ok

him trying to figure out how they didnt try to eat u🤔

he didnt try to stop u but that wont mean he wont go😅😅

ALSO eat ur veggies pls

hes chasing u around heartslabyul trying to make u eat a wee bit of carrots

Leona

"veggies:( bad:(" "so real"

^ur real time convo

whenever youre given food with veggies, u pass it off to leona

leona then pass it to ruggie who then muched it off

he absolutely told u to give ruggie any veggies btw (free food for the man‼️)

ruggie is forever happy to receive free food

he actually thought u were a beastman too because of your scent

"r u a jack kinnie?" he would ask (he didnt ask it like that)

turns out you just got raised by them

idk savanaclaw might be an ok? place for u? considering most of them r beastman there

like its not even surprising to see u practicing with them every morning anymore

ruggie dragged both u and leona by the collar to practice btw

"im all the way in ramshackle" leona surprise adopted u to savanaclaw, dont resist /J

u surprisingly get along well with him‼️‼️

leona acting like he doesnt care abt the youngsters👴🙄 (hes failing)

he totally didnt take a nap with you in his usual spots, no who did that?? pft not him

no he did NOT save u from accidentally getting hurt by your friend's troubles btw no

also, he did not mind that you do not talk much

the less words the better for him!! he encourages this (he got beat up later by the people who thinks otherwise)

Azul

youre so simple, azul actually had a great time

"pls sign this contract to save ur friends" "ok:)"

well youre homeless now (not rlly u have a home in savanaclaw)

yk those super villains laughing evilly everytime their plans r going so well?? thats azul

he didnt even need to put many efforts in trying to trick u, u just go thumbs up at him

he does not feel bad btw

he does not care if youre a beastman or not. a business opportunity is all you'll ever be to him

maybe a friend too but you'll need to unlock friendship level 10 for that

can wolves swim underwater, im sayign yes for plot reasons

anyways u came back from trying to get the painting(?) picture (?) like a wet dog

im saying nonsense rn i think i need sleep its almost 1am

he threw his head back 90° to laugh dramatically at how u reminded him of a wet dog

this is a joke, do not come for me

honestly he had to drag u away from the lounge once bcs u tried catching the fishes in the aquarium

"MF LEAVE MY FISHES TF ALONE IF U WANT TO LIVE" is what he wouldve said if hes not a professional businessman

he is a professional guys do not worry💯

honestly, he is pretty ? that you had trouble speaking

after finding out its bcs youve been isolated from the human things, he kind of goes🤔

the business in his head is controlling him before he can stop them😖🫣

would u like a potion from him to help u with that problem<33

honestly head empty rn

Kalim

rhey all thought you were a beastman and he is not an exception

is def surprised bcs ur ass howled one time at a full moon

he witnessed that, he had the front row seat as witness

he lets u do ur thing its ok

even asked u if its family tradition HELP /J

"oh man u have such fluffy hair"

he said before trying to touch it and realising its literally tangled all over

him and jamil whos right next to him

were u raised in a barn??

kalim assumed theres no hairbrush in ramshackle

u dont have to worry bro, kalim is more than happy to stock u up with some hairbrush

"oh its nothing much dont worry😊🙏‼️" the literal gold handles on the hairbrush:

u dont have to worry abt not speaking much, he speaks enough for the both of u

he spoke such strange things u dont understand him sometimes

u just nod along and gave him thumbs up

its like sun and moon but the moon is confused /j

if youre sleeping outside, he will join u btw

he brought his pillows and blanket out to have a small sleepover with u

jamil had a mini heart attack when he went to wake kalim up in the morning to see hes missing from his bed

Vil

vil when be sees u

yk how yall lived in pomefiore for a bit after the idia thing??

yeah he polished u up so much bro

u came into the dorm looking like someone abandoned u so youe only option was to live in the jungle with the help of ur jungle friends and have survived through the way of the mammals since u were an infant

and u came out looking like a brand new person

u came out of the dorm looking like u got new skin that its literally shining under light, ur hair softer and no longer tangled and no more eyebags and u smell like flowers

vil wiping his forehead after a job well done😊🙏

also he was pretty shocked when he found out u were pretty isolated from the human norms or whatever

he did try his best to break you bad habits, like literally running in mud

he also helped u with like speaking problems?

he got u a whole dictionary in case u dont know the word bro

also fix ur uniform for ueach time u try to loosen it up because its too suffocating for u

if u try to loosen it up one more time, he'll add the veggies in ur plate

he absolutely does makes u eat ur veggies

he'll tie u down a chair and make u eat them even

/j he wouldnt. he have rook to help him with that

Idia

him after he fixed ur dorm with the greatest and newest updated quality just for u to sleep outside

he gets it, youve been raised this way

but he just fixed it for u bro😢😢cant u at least sleep in there

grim sleeps in diff rooms every day bcs of the upgrade and u did this?? /j

oh well at least the outside kind of looks better now too he guess....

u dont even use the tv, u dont know how it works

"people in there real?" "? no ?"

he beats u in every video games ever because u literally could not keep up with technology

hes slaying everyone and youre wondering how to make ur character walk the way u wanted them to

u accidentally drowned somehow in the video game

he feels a tad bit bad for u

he cant bond much with u because like

hes quiet, youre quiet

hes a modern dude, u dont even know whats a phone

he likes video games, u prolly like hunting for food

if you two r in a room together, the only people who r talking r literally the wind

"whoosh whoosh whoosh🌬" whoosh whoosh🌪

Malleus

he spoke enough for the both of u (its abt gargoyles)

he actually spoke so much confusing words for u

u looked at him like 😃🫨 (ur head is spinning and u r dying)

u can always ask him if u dont understand tho

he will explain in another paragraph but its ok, at least u understand now

barely actually

ur brain hurts and its fried from talking to him since he use big words

he did try to use simpler words for u!!

oh u two can kind of bond i think

youre both not familiar with technology so it will work well

u know those faces grandparents make when looking through new technologies

like the eyes squinting and eyebrows furrowed look with thag confused look

yeah thats the both of u

u both try to figure it out together (it did not work out)

yall asked lilia for help

peepaw is into the trends, he can help the both of u dont worry!!

he saw how messy you could be sometimes and went damn

he'll fix u up with magic its ok

show me funny things, magic man

anyways its a habit of his to fix anything in ur appearance whenever u have ur nighty walks

like u have this dirt on ur white uniform? say no more.

theres a damned branch in ur hair (dont ask how u got that) and its tangled in ur hair?? he got u pookie

part of ur clothes r literally ripped off because god's knows what youve been doing in your free time??? u dont even need to ask bbg

#also i think razor and silver can get along quite well #the adoptive sons #twst wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #kalim al asim #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #malleus draconia #how do i usually tag #in my boomer era i forgot how to post #is this what i usually tag???#say yes pls

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