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dirtytomatoedwrites · 7 months

Text

INDEBTED

Summary: When your father's scandal threatens your family's legacy, Rafe makes you an offer you can't refuse.

Paring: Rafe Cameron x KookFem!Reader

Strictly 18+ No Minors to Interact

Warnings: Dark!Rafe, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Coercive Behaviour, Choking, Graphic Scenes / Smut.

Word Count: 4.8k words

Author's Note: 1000 followers! Wow, I never thought I'd reach 1000 followers. A part of me believes that half of these are bots, but regardless, to those who are real and have decided to join me in my little corner of the Tumblr woods, thank you. Your love and support, especially during these trying times, means a lot. I had this one shot sitting in my drafts for a while and thought I'd finish the damn thing and share it as a thank you. But heed those warnings : it's a dark one. Much love to you all ❤️

Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Please don’t steal or copy bits of my writing or any writing from other writers cause karma will get ya.

Embezzlement.

What a weird word.

It rolls off the tongue with an unfamiliar bitterness. It's the kind of term you'd see in a crossword puzzle, nestled between "clandestine" and "malevolent." You never imagined it would be splashed across news headlines with your family's name and the face of your father in the centre.

For years, your family was among the shining stars of Figure 8, leaders in hospitality, prestige, and wealth. Your home was the epicenter of elegance, the heartbeat of social galas. But now, news vans line the perimeter of your estate, their cameras hungry for a glimpse of the fallen dynasty. While online vultures, under the guise of investigative websites, sift through every chapter of your family's history.

Naturally, it caused a ripple, and as the waves of the scandal crashed onto the shores of Figure 8 with relentless force, family friends who once sought your company now wrestled with their association to yours. The 'friends' who once envied your galas and soirées now whisper behind closed doors.

It was the talk of every gathering. At lunches, tennis courts, even the marina; your family’s name was whispered with a mix of pity and sensationalism. Every disclosed detail, every leaked piece of evidence, threatens to shatter the glass pedestal upon which your family once stood unchallenged.

Yet, amidst the tempest of rumors and glares, your mother remains the eye of the storm. Resolute and graceful, she doesn't waver. The titan of Figure 8's social scene, she's always known how to command a room, and this scandal won't rob her of that gift.

Tonight, at the Midsummer ball, she's an emblem of defiance against the rising tide of whispers. And she does it so effortlessly. She glides through the crowd with that same charismatic charm. She smiles warmly, asking about children and recent vacations, pets, and passion projects, extending olive branches even when met with frosty receptions and curt replies.

You, however, are not as composed. The weight of judgmental gazes is too suffocating, the murmurs too piercing. The confines of the ball, with its glittering chandeliers and faux smiles, become a prison. With each passing moment, the walls seem to close in further. You need air. A moment of solitude. An escape from the suffocating pretense.

Whispering a quick excuse to your mother about needing the powder room, you slip away. The soft hum of the party fades behind you as you venture down a paved stone path, leading to the beach. The cool breeze and rhythmic waves provide solace, a stark contrast to the stifling ambiance of the party.

You had taken off the flower crown your mother had insisted you wear and were about to remove your shoes when you heard it: the soft crunch of footsteps on sand, drawing closer.

Hesitantly, you turned, finding him. The one whose eyes often sought yours in a crowd. Whose lingering gazes you'd always felt but habitually ignored. The same person who continually asked you out, oftentimes rudely and crudely. The one you had rejected, rebuffed, and shut down more times than you could count.

Rafe Cameron.

"Came to rub salt in my wounds?" you asked, unable to mask the bitterness in your voice.

"Now why would I want to do such a thing?" Rafe murmured. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, placing it between his lips. The soft flicker of the lighter momentarily illuminated his face, revealing a brief smirk before the darkness cloaked him again. "I thought you might appreciate some company instead."

The word 'appreciate' ricocheted around your mind, sounding almost absurd in this situation. Company? From Rafe Cameron? The notorious Kook King of Figure 8, a classic case book narcissist who, you were certain, had probably raised a toast to the scandal engulfing your family. At this moment, you'd rather eat glass than accept his sympathy. Rolling your eyes, you turned back to the sea, barely acknowledging his presence.

“I'm not in the mood to talk, Rafe," your voice steady but seething with restrained frustration. Your eyes remained locked onto the undulating waves before you. The smell of sea-salt filled your nostrils, and for a fleeting moment, you felt at peace. It lasts all of two seconds before Rafe opens his mouth again.

"Fine, I'll talk. You listen," he asserts, as he settles against a rock. He leisurely inhales from his cigarette before blowing out a plume of smoke into the night air. You can feel his contemplative gaze on you; it becomes evident in the softened timbre of his voice when he speaks again. “You know, it's downright shitty what they're doing to your dad. To your family. To you... I can't stand by and watch."

A scornful laugh escapes you as you finally meet his gaze. "Well, life's not exactly handing out fairness certificates, is it?"

He shook his head, "No, it isn’t. But, it still doesn't make it right. It doesn’t make it fair when your dad claims he’s innocent—”

“My dad is innocent,” you assert fiercely, standing tall, arms crossed defiantly over your chest.

“Oh, I believe he is. But the world? Not so much. Your dad’s always been good to my family. My old man took it hard when he heard. I mean, of all the people on Figure 8 to be arrested for embezzlement, your dad was the last person anyone would suspect—”

“What's your point, Rafe?” You snapped, clearly about to lose the last shred of patience you had.

"I’ve been thinking about it alot, and maybe my family can help.”

Skepticism etched itself clear as day on your face. It seemed ironic that Rafe felt his family could help when Rose and Ward shunned your parents the moment the news broke.

“And how do you propose to do that?" you asked, your voice tinged with mistrust.

Rafe shrugged, a casual gesture that contradicted the gravity of the situation. "My dad, he's got connections—”

“So do mine,” you shot back.

“But did yours play golf with Senator Whitfield every Saturday? Rain or shine? Nah, didn’t think so.”

You felt a moment of silence envelop you both, the distant murmurs of the sea a constant reminder of the world moving around you.

"Alright, I'll bite," you said with a lick of your lips. "What do you want in return? You're clearly not doing this out of the goodness of your heart."

Rafe flicked his cigarette onto the sand, extinguishing it with a deliberate twist of his shoe. As he stepped closer, moonlight illuminated his eyes, giving them an almost predatory glow.

“You've got me," he admitted, his smirk devoid of warmth. “I do want something in return. Something that has been on my mind. Something I’ve wanted for a long time now. You."

A shiver raced down your spine, a cocktail of revulsion and trepidation. Retreating a step, your voice quivered but remained defiant.

"So, you're after a date?" You clarified, eyes narrowing. The same date he'd pestered you for, relentlessly, over the past year. The same date you'd denied him repeatedly, because despite being handsome, Rafe Cameron's moral compass seemed nonexistent.

Rafe scratched his ear as he moved slowly toward you, his expression pained as though what he was about to reveal would hurt him far more than it would hurt you.

"Yeah, see, a date won't begin to cover what I'm risking for your old man, given his rap sheet is longer than my arm. No, what I want is far more... rewarding," his voice sank to a sultry whisper as he towered over you.

"And what would that be?" you asked, tension crackling in the air between you.

"I want to be able to fuck you whenever and however I want—for a month, maybe two, perhaps even a year..." he shrugged slowly, "The specifics are negotiable, but doesn't that sound fair? A little pussy in exchange for your dad's freedom?”

The slap was instinctual. Swift. The sting on your palm matched only by the shock on Rafe's face. For a split second, everything was still.

Rafe's eyes turned to steel, his demeanor shifting chillingly in a heartbeat. He closed in, his voice a venomous whisper slicing through the salty sea air. "You must have a death wish," he hissed, an unmistakable dangerous edge to his words. His hand gingerly brushed his reddening jaw, his piercing gaze never leaving yours. "Your dad's freedom? It's dangling by the thinnest thread... The right words from a senator could decide whether he walks free or becomes someone's bitch behind bars."

He paused, his gaze falling to the flower crown in your hand. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out to touch it, his fingers lightly tracing the delicate petals, an almost gentle gesture that was jarringly at odds with the tension of the moment.

"If you want to help your dad, having a friend like me might be your best bet." he murmured. "Think it over, yeah?" His gaze lifted back to yours, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Fuck you, Rafe," you whispered, disgust fueled your retreat as you stormed away, his chilling laugh echoing ominously in the night air.

"You will, princess. When you come to your senses, you will."

Rafe's lingering words pressed on you, growing heavier with each breath. The looming possibility of your father's life behind bars became ever more ominous as Rafe presented a potential solution—a solution with an inconceivable price tag.

How could he even insinuate such a thing? The mere suggestion repulsed you, igniting a fury at Rafe's audacity. Yet the unease gnawing at your belly made you question: to what lengths would you go to save your dad? With your family facing disgrace and teetering on the brink of bankruptcy, Rafe's proposal offered a faint glimmer of hope, even if it took the ugliest of forms.

In the solitude of your bedroom, the pristine walls seemed to close in, just like the midsummer ball. Picking up your phone, you stared at the screen, the bright white light harsh against the dim setting. The contacts list stared back, an overwhelming list of names, none of whom had reached out during your family's time of need.

You scrolled, hesitating briefly before landing on Rafe's name. A whirlwind of emotions — from anger to desperation — consumed you as you pressed on it. Trembling fingers typed, deleted, and retyped a message multiple times, finally settling on the simplest of words.

"We need to talk."

Almost immediately, three dots danced on the screen.

"Tomorrow 7pm, Tannyhill.”

Was Rafe’s curt response.

You could barely sleep that night, as your mind raced, forming what you hoped was a semblance of a plan. You needed to negotiate on your terms, to retain some shred of dignity. It wasn't a detailed strategy, but it was enough to at least get through Rafe's offer with your sanity.

The next day as you approached Tannyhill, you whispered silent affirmations to yourself, reaffirming your resolve, your worth, and the necessity of your mission.

And then, there he was. Rafe Cameron, leaning casually against the frame of the ornate door, a picture of wealth and arrogance, a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within you. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you in the impending darkness of the evening.

Rafe opened the door for you, his face betraying a flicker of something you couldn't quite read, but there was no turning back now. You stepped in, ready to negotiate with the devil himself if it meant saving your family.

"Where's everyone?" you asked, there was no point in exchanging pleasantries. Nothing about the situation was remotely pleasant.

"Movies. You know, I hadn't expected a text from you so soon." his voice dripped with condescension, "I was betting on at least a week or two."

"Yeah well, it is my dad's life on the line," your footsteps echoed with purpose as you followed him into the living room, eyes steeling for the battle ahead. "The sooner we finalize our agreement, the quicker you can pull whatever strings you have, right?"

Rafe spun around, his gaze locking onto yours. The sly curve of his lips unsettling. "Sure, I’ll make a few calls,” he stated, voice dark and sardonic, "but it'll depend on the terms we agree to."

"Alright…” you braced yourself, your arms folded trying to regain control. "Let's start with how lon--"

“A year,” Rafe cut in, not breaking eye contact.

"That's out of the question. A month," you shot back.

His chuckle resonated with an underlying seriousness, his eyes narrowing in focus "Sure, we can say a month. You willing to fuck me at least twice a day? No? Then eleven."

You straightened your back, your resolve hardening. "Two months, tops."

His eyes gleamed as he considered your counteroffer. "How about this, we keep our little arrangement going until your dad's free. It could be a month, maybe two…” he shrugged nonchalantly “It might even be a year. It depends on how soon he’s out. What do you think?"

You hesitated, visibly weighing the implications of such an open-ended commitment. Your dad’s charges were serious. The chances of those charges disappearing and him being released in a month seemed like a miracle. "What if it drags on for years?" you whispered.

Rafe’s grin grew more pronounced, relishing your distress. "Well, princess, that's for you to decide. You can always walk away whenever you think it’s unbearable. Does that seem fair?"

"Okay, fine. Now about condoms--”

“Not using them--”

“Oh, we’re using them. I’m not interested in having your kid, Rafe, and I’m certainly not interested in catching anything from you.”

“While I should be fucking insulted” he said dryly “I always glove up and get tested regularly too.”

“Okay, so why are you suddenly against using condoms with me, then?”

“Because I promised myself…” he said slowly, his voice lowering as he made his way towards you, “If I ever got the chance to fuck you, I'd do it raw.”

Your jaw clicked, your hands itching to slap him again. “Weren’t you fooling around with Letizia a couple of weeks back?”

“Yeah, so? I was gloved up.”

“I don't care. You've slept with half the girls on figure 8. I want you fully tested before we even think about doing anything. Condoms every time, no excuses.”

“Alright. I’ll get tested. Condoms while fucking, no condoms for blowjobs.”

"Yeah, about that, I'm not doing oral.'” you said folding your arms in resignation.

Rafe's eyes bore into yours, annoyance coloring his features.

"No. No. You don’t get to dictate how I fuck you." he snapped, his voice taking on edge of authority. "Look, i’m willing to let you negotiate a few terms, give you some semblance of control but it’s got to be worth my while, and for it to be worth it, I get to fuck you how I want, when I want.”

You swallowed, feeling your resolve waver.

"Now, here's what I want to make this deal work: when I call, you answer. No matter the place, no matter the time. You show up. Clear?" Rafe said.

You paused before giving a hesitant nod, the magnitude of your agreement dawning on you.

"And if I ask you to wear something specific, you will. No questions. We have a deal?"

Your throat tightened as his demands began to overwhelm you, but you managed a brief nod in response.

"Remember, fail to meet my terms, and our deal ends. Understood?"

Another nod.

"Anything else?"

“When will you make the call?” you asked quickly.

“After our first session,” he proposed, his smile revealing a hint of anticipation. “After that I’ll do whatever I can to make sure your dad’s free”

" I want proof. I want proof that you’d stick to your part of the deal.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it.”

“Good." you said as you took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Get tested and send me the results," you responded, you're tone neutral, treating it as a standard business transaction. "I'll do the same. We can then choose a time and date."

Rafe nodded in agreement, his gaze intense and piercing.

You extended your hand towards him.

"What's that for?" he chuckled lowly.

"A handshake. To seal the deal."

Rafe reached out, his arms enveloping you in a firm yet tender grasp, pulling you against him. It took everything within you to not push him away. "How about we seal this deal with a kiss, hmm?" he murmured, "Especially since we'll be doing a lot more than kissing very soon."

Rafe leaned in, letting his lips graze yours. But you stiffened, instinctively tilting your head so that his lips met your cheek instead. A soft chuckle escaped him as he retreated just a fraction.

“Ah ah” he chided. With his fingers gently but firmly cradling your jaw, he directed your face back to his, an unsettling tension growing palpable between you.

"Play. Nice.” he whispered, his voice considerably smug. "Kiss me. Like you mean it." It wasn't a mere request; it was a command that left you feeling completely cornered.

A battle of wills ensued; neither of you making the first move, both of you waiting for the other to blink first. Rafe's eyes never left your own as he leaned in once again, his determination clear.

His tongue gently pushed past your parted lips, and you allowed it, setting off a delicate yet conflicting dance between your tongues and lips.

Groaning into your mouth, his eyes shut as the kiss deepened, carrying an undeniable intensity. He sucked on your bottom lip, nipping at your tender flesh until his tongue lashed hungrily against yours sending a peculiar mix of tingles and dread coursing through you.

Finally, you pulled away from the kiss, catching your breath while your chest heaved. Rafe remained close, his lips just a whisper away from yours, his breathing matching your intensity.

"I'll get tested first thing tomorrow," he whispered, his voice thick with urgency and desire. "Make sure you do, too."

"All clear."

That was the message Rafe sent you two days after your heated conversation, accompanied by a screengrab of his test results. Without hesitation, you replied, sending him your own results in return.

As your fingers tapped across the screen, a surge of disgust washed over you. The very idea of being intimate with Rafe was anything but appealing; it fact, it made you feel sick.

You'd never choose Rafe of your own volition. Sure he was handsome but his excessive drinking and drug habits were repellant, and his disdain and bullying nature towards the Pogues was disturbing. None of his qualities were remotely attractive, let alone fuckable.

But then, the stern, resilient part of you asserted itself, urging you to focus on the goal at hand.

This was not about you or Rafe; it was about orchestrating your father's release from prison, a critical mission where failure wasn't an option. With this clear objective ingrained in your mind, you steeled your resolve, preparing yourself for what lay ahead.

When he proposed meeting up that same night, you didn't find it strange given Rafe's impulsive nature. However, the location he suggested did catch you off guard.

It wasn't Tannyhill, the somewhat familiar and comfortable place you had anticipated, but instead, an unfamiliar address. The randomness of the location set off tiny alarms in the back of your mind, making you wary but you took a deep breath, quickly typing out your response-

"I'll be there."

It wasn't just any random address, as you initially thought.

At the front of a gated tree-lined drive stood a prominent sign declaring, “Cameron Developments.” The freshly poured concrete and stacks of lumber clearly indicated that it was a home under renovation.

As you made your way along the winding path, unease gripped you, but the sight of Rafe’s truck haphazardly parked near the entrance reassured you that you had indeed reached the right place.

The estate was draped in an unsettling darkness, punctuated only by the soft chirping of crickets, the distant hoot of an owl, and the sporadic glow of work lights from inside, hinting at the ongoing renovations.

Exiting your car, you took a moment to absorb the scene before approaching the house. With each step towards the porch, your heart rate quickened. But before you could even announce your presence, the heavy door groaned open, revealing the looming presence of Rafe.

His expression, obscured by the shadows and dim work lights from within, gave away nothing. Without a word, he stepped aside, allowing you to enter, then closed the door and locked it.

A knot formed in your throat, a cocktail of dread and adrenaline. Pushing the mounting fear aside, you gathered your voice, attempting to sound braver than you felt. "Alright, let's get this over with," you said.

A wicked grin tugged at the corner of Rafe's lips. You felt an icy dread settle in your chest. "Oh, we will," he murmured, "But first, I want to play a game... to make things... interesting." The atmosphere grew heavy, oppressive.

"One minute" he said, as he cracked his neck from side to side, his eyes boring into you. "You get a one-minute head start and after that, after that--" he sighed happily "I'm coming for you. Run."

Panic gripped you. "Run? What? What the hell are you talking about? What do you mean run?" you stammered, your voice edged with rising panic.

But his eyes were cold, devoid of humor or empathy. He leaned closer, his voice a menacing hiss that left no room for interpretation. "Run."

A rush of adrenaline hit you, and without another word, you sprinted past him as if your very life depended on it.

You had no clear destination in mind, only the primal instinct to run and hide. Every fiber of your being was attuned to survival. Heart pounding in your chest, you sprinted up the grand staircase, taking the steps three at a time, feeling the weight of your own desperation in every leap.

At the top, a maze of doors and hallways stretched out before you. You lunged for the nearest one, finding yourself in a dimly lit bedroom freshly painted in white. Shadows danced on the walls from the solitary work light, and your gaze immediately snapped to a closet on your right.

Without hesitation, you slipped inside, gently closing the door behind you. The smell of paint and cedar filled your nostrils. Placing a trembling hand over your mouth, you tried to muffle the sound of your heavy, ragged breathing.

Gently, so as not to make a sound, you nudged the slatted shutter doors of the closet closed, leaving only thin slivers of the room visible – distorted, but enough to keep watch.

The ominous sound of footsteps reached your ears; they were methodical, unhurried. Rafe was searching, savoring the hunt. You watched in horror as his elongated shadow, cast by the work light, drifted across the closet. A cold sweat formed on your forehead, and you had to fight back the urge to gasp as the shadow paused momentarily by the closet doors.

After what felt like an eternity, the shadow moved away, and you heard his footsteps retreating. Letting out a silent sigh of relief, you gave yourself a moment to gather your bearings. But you knew all too well you couldn't remain hidden for long; he would inevitably retrace his steps and find you.

Gathering your courage, you carefully eased the closet doors open and quickly scanned the room for an escape route. Your heart pounded violently in your chest as you made your move. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you tiptoed across the room, avoiding the creaky floorboards that might betray your presence. But the moment you stepped out of the bedroom, you collided with a solid mass.

Rafe's eyes pierced through to your soul, pure hunger reflected in them as he stared down at you. His hand clamped around your throat, pulling you close as the smell of your fear and his cologne filled your nostrils in a nauseating mix. His lips crushed against yours, ravaging your mouth with an intensity that nearly made you faint.

As your fight-or-flight instincts kicked in, you frantically writhed in his grip. Your fists relentlessly pounded against his arm, trying to get him to relinquish his hold on you, but it was no use. In one swift motion, Rafe backed you into the bedroom and forcefully dragged you to the floor, your fingers wildly clawing at his arm as you searched for any type of leverage you could find.

Rafe ravished your neck with unbridled hunger, his other hand violently tugged at your skirt and panties, scraping the skin of your thighs until finding your moist center—the slippery wetness signifying your surrender to pleasure. Rafe groaned as his fingertips slid through your slick folds and into you causing you to gasp at the white-hot jolts of pleasure.

"For someone who's only doing this to save their dad, you're soaked..." Rafe laughed breathlessly, trailing a line of wet kisses up your throat. "All that sanctimonious bullshit about what you will and won't do and look at you, fucking dripping for my cock—”

"Fuck you!" you screeched, a potent mixture of embarrassment and venomous rage coursing through you has you writhing beneath him, your determination to push him off almost frantic.

"That's it—fight back," he jeered, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "Fight back. It'll make this all the more satisfying."

You kicked and screamed, only for Rafe to capture your lips in a bruising kiss. His hands connected your wrists together over your head. In a single move, he flipped you onto your stomach and straddled you from behind, his erection pressing against your ass.

One of Rafe's hands tears off your panties, your screams in protest seize immediately as Rafe stuffed the flimsy cotton into your mouth.

"There" he taunted with a sinister chuckle, pressing you down further as you desperately attempted to wriggle free. You strained to let out a scream, your voice stifled by the makeshift gag.

That same hand worked feverishly to free himself from his pants. You could feel the throbbing heat of his erection at the cleft of your ass. Could hear him tearing open the condom packet with his teeth, the necessary prelude to satiating his ever-growing hunger.

Not too long after he was grinding the head of his cock against your wetness while you fought to express your protests through the gag.

"No, no, this is what we've agreed to. What you agreed to..." Rafe's breath hitched as his cock slid over your weeping slit. With one hard, raw thrust, barely allowing you time to adjust to his girth, he plunged himself deep inside you.

He wasted no time, immediately beginning his relentless thrusts, utterly indifferent to your muffled struggles behind the gag. Your body writhed beneath his weight, your movements punctuated by desperate grunts, the hardwood floor beneath you offering no mercy.

After a brief moment, Rafe released your wrists and drew you closer, his grip on your hips unwavering as he continued to drive into you with unrelenting force. Your head spun as you gradually surrendered to the powerful cadence of his movements. His hands clung to you possessively, guiding both of you in a desperate, synchronized dance. Every nerve in your body ignited, primal heat surging from deep within.

Your eyelids fluttered shut as your body succumbed to his unyielding force. Despite the freedom of your hands, you found yourself paralyzed, incapable of resisting or offering any form of resistance. Instead, you relinquished control, allowing Rafe to claim you entirely.

"I'm gonna fucking cum. I'm gonna cum. Cum with me," he growled through gritted teeth, his tempo increasing to a punishing pace.

You weakly shook your head, 'no,' your determination unwavering as you fought to maintain control over your desires. The mere thought of your pleasure becoming entangled with his, sullied and exploited for his depraved fantasies, was something you could not bear.

"Oh, you'll cum-" he sneered.

In a sudden, ominous gesture, he swiftly removed his leather belt from its loop around his pants and coiled it around your neck, pulling and winding it tightly around his fist.

"If you want to breathe, you'll cum," he snarled, pounding you with relentless force. The room was filled only with the sound of your choked gasps for air, Rafe's ragged breaths, the creak of the leather as he tightened his grip, and the rhythmic punishing slap of his hips against your flesh. You fought with every ounce of your being not to succumb to your impending orgasm, tears streaming uncontrollably from your eyes as you waged a futile battle.

The room reverberated with your agonized screams as your orgasm overtook you. Your muscles tensed and quivered beneath you, each wave of pleasure crashing over you like a violent tsunami drowning you. Your fingers clawed at the belt constricting your throat, the leather biting into your skin and to your abject horror, you were gushing around his cock as you climaxed.

Rafe fucked you with a feverish frenzy, burying his face in the back of your neck. With a triumphant roar, Rafe's orgasm struck, and he shuddered against you, muffling his moans of pleasure into your skin as he stuffed his cock deep.

Sated and content, he collapsed on top of you, his breathing heavy and labored, the condom filled with his cum. After a moment, he withdrew and shifted to lie beside you.

Summoning every ounce of strength you had left, you managed to free yourself from the tight confines of the belt and the stifling gag that had cruelly silenced you. Every fiber of your being, every muscle in your body, screamed with raw pain as you gulped in fresh air, each breath feeling like a hard-won victory. Tears of relief and anguish streamed down your face, and with a shaky hand, you hastily brushed them away.

The room seemed to sway, a disorienting blend of fear, relief, and vertigo threatening to drag you into terrifying darkness.

Yet, slicing through the fog of your distress was the haunting sound of Rafe's laughter. His voice was breathless, yet unmistakably gleeful. His fingers, dampened with sweat, raked through his messy hair, highlighting his heightened state of manic exhilaration.

"Next time," he grinned, a chilling promise lacing his words, "Next time, we'll use rope."

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Thanks for reading x If you enjoyed it please like/reblog/drop a comment would love to know what you think. Until next time ❤️

#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe fic #rafe smut #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #dark!rafe cameron #obx fanfiction #obx #18+ read #dirtytomatoedwrites #dark rafe cameron #smut warning

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cheolaholic · 1 month

Text

ring of love; csc (05)

summary; agreeing to join vernon spectate an underground boxing match wasn't how you'd expect to spend your friday night. you also didn't expect to see seungcheol, someone you've lost contact with for years, become a part of the ring.

modern! au • boxer! au • hhu focused • multiple kinds of tropes • fluff, angst, smut

a/n;; omg, i'm alive????? jkjk, work's been piling up lately and i'm honestly drained by the time I get back home so I couldn't do much writing or even qc the draft before yoinking them into a tumblr draft 💀 but anyways, hope yall enjoy this chapter !! uri boo makes a small little cameo in this chapter :D a part of the angst in this fic has also arrived, pls be prepared (it’s not that heavy tho).

You were 15 when you experienced your first ‘heartbreak’. Though, you call it a ‘heartbreak’ solely because it was a “for the lack of a better word” situation. A week before summer break, your parents had announced that the three of you would be flying off to Jeju to visit your grandparents.

You adore your grandparents, and they adore you just as much. Before you started middle school, you remember constantly flying off to Jeju, or even taking the ferry, to visit them every holiday and school break possible. Even during the initial stage of your move to the small town, your parents had sent you off to your grandparents as they sorted out the heavier parts.

Your grandparents had brought you to the beach, taught you how to make kimchi and even brought you to one of the fireworks shows during your stay. But, when you started middle school and were bombarded by a shit ton of schoolwork, you weren’t able to visit them as often.

So, you were ecstatic when your parents announced the Jeju trip. Both Aki and Seungcheol could see the excitement and happiness in your eyes as you told them about your plans.

Aki asking you questions about Jeju while Seungcheol listens to both of you with a small smile on his face. “how long will you be there, pup?” he asks, cheek leaning against the palm of his hand.

“Uhm… I think maybe for two weeks? I’m not really sure… Dad did ask mom if she wanted me to tag along with them to London afterwards…”

“Oh? What are they gonna be doing in London?”

“They have a business meeting that lasts at least two days. But, they decided to stay back a week for a mini vacation.”

“Do you want to go?” Aki asks as she pops a piece of strawberry into her mouth, stealing a glance at Seungcheol, noticing the way his shoulders are slumped at the mention of you thinking of joining your parents overseas.

Dude looks like a puppy not wanting its owner to leave it alone… she thought to herself, finding the scene in front of her amusing.

“Well, whether or not you want to join your parents, I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself regardless!” she spoke.

“Take good care of yourself, pup,” Seungcheol added as he reached out a hand and patted your head, sending a faint blush spreading across your cheeks and a teasing smile on Aki’s lips, “If you ever need anything, call me, okay?”

“Or me!”

The older male rolled his eyes at Aki’s words, smiling when you nod your head.

“Seungkwannie!” you squealed out in happiness as you ran up to your cousin who was standing out at the gates of your grandparent's house, engulfing him in a big hug. “I can’t believe you’re here! Mom and Dad said that you’d be in Biyangdo!”

“And miss out on the chance to spend time with my favourite cousin? Never!” Seungkwan proclaimed as he pecked your cheek. “I haven’t seen you in years, ___! There’s no way I’d pass off the opportunity to spend time with you while you’re here!”

Seungkwan is your cousin from your mom’s side of the family. Before the age of 5, you don’t remember much about meeting Seungkwan other than the stories both your parents would tell you over family dinners. For example, when you asked them about the scar Seungkwan had on his chest, his dad said you were the one that left it on him. They proceeded to tell the story of how you had scratched Seungkwan because he had refused to let you watch Pocoyo on tv when both of you were just 3.

Or when his mom would ask you if you remembered Seungkwan hiding in the closet to scare you, but you ended up crying because you had thought he went home. So, instead of scaring you, he came out of the closet and both your parents found the two of you cuddled up on the floor the next morning

After Seungkwan helped you and your parents move the luggage into your grandparent’s home, Both of you sat on the porch, drinking the lemonade your grandmother had prepared. “How’re you, aunt and uncle doing?” he asks, “I heard from Uncle Lee that you’re starting high school soon! probably in a few months, right?”

“Things have been the same, besides the whole mom and dad having to go overseas occasionally and I had to stay with either Aki or Seungcheol.”

“Speaking of Seungcheol, how’s that little crush of yours on him going?” Seungkwan asked with a teasing smile, nudging your sides, “Ever thought of telling him before he graduates? There’s a chance he might head off to the big cities or even abroad for college.”

You were silent for a moment.

You have thought about telling Seungcheol your feelings, but you never thought about the timing. Now that his graduation is nearing, you still haven’t told him. As you were still stuck in your thoughts, Seungkwan places a hand on your shoulder, “Well, whatever happens, I wish you happiness.“

“You say that as if I’m leaving you forever.”

“Hey, let me be sentimental!”

Just as you rolled your eyes, you felt your phone vibrate - you had gotten a text from Aki.

aki: did you make it to Jeju safe? ___ bestie <3: yeap! ___ bestie <3: i’m with my cousin rn ___ bestie <3: [sent an attachment] aki: ooh, he’s cute ___ bestie <3: want me to introduce you? aki: gurl aki: don’t try to matchmake me when you’re struggling to tell Seungcheol about how you feel aki: and besides aki: your cousin is cute, but he’s not my type ___ bestie <3: wow ___ bestie <3: you really just did me dirty aki: i’m just saying ___ aki: better tell him before you lose the chance aki: besides your romantic struggles aki: have fun and take lots of pictures! aki: can’t wait to see them when you get back <3 ___ bestie <3: i will!

“Are you gonna stay here with grandma and grandpa while Aunt and Uncle Lee fly out to London?” Seungkwan asks as you set down your phone, refilling his glass of lemonade. You shrugged, still debating on whether or not you wanted to join your parents. “I’m honestly stuck in between… On one hand, I want to see what other countries are like. On the other, I haven’t seen grandma and grandpa in years…”

Your mother who was on her way to give you both a plate of strawberries overheard the conversation and tried her best to help you with your indecisiveness. “___, sweetie,” she began as she set the plate on the wooden porch floor, “you can always travel in the future when you’re all grown up.”

“That sounds like you just want her to stay here in Jeju so you and uncle can enjoy yourselves without her presence,” Seungkwan teased, earning a forehead flick from your mother.

“Well, she’ll be in your care too, Seungkwan. I hope I won’t return to a sassy, diva daughter after leaving her here with you.”

Seungkwan gasps dramatically, placing a hand over his chest at your mother’s statement. “Aunt Lee, I’m hurt and offended.”

“You’re just further proving my point, Seungkwan.”

“Hey, the sass could end up helping her in the future!”

cheollie: hey, pup cheollie: mom said you and your parents made it to Jeju safely cheollie: how are you feeling? cheollie: did you get motion sickness during the flight? cheollie: did you eat dinner yet? sweet pup: ehh, the motion sickness wasn’t that bad sweet pup: grandma made lemonade :D sweet pup: and yes, i ate dinner! sweet pup: grandpa grilled some mackerel sweet pup: [sent an attachment] sweet pup: and look at how fat the strawberries are :0 sweet pup: [sent an attachment] cheollie: wow cheollie: those look good cheollie: hey, do you think it’s alright if we have a call? sweet pup: like, right now? cheollie: yea sweet pup: oh sweet pup: um, let me head out to the porch cheollie: take your time, pup

As you quietly exited the room you were staying in and out onto the porch, you picked up Seungcheol’s incoming call, feeling the butterflies in your stomach intensify when you heard his deep, “Hey, pup.”

“Hi, Cheollie! Have you had your dinner?” you asked, getting a small hum as a response. “Dad got a deal with a big client so he bought steak for us. Mom also cooked calamari.”

“Wow, it must’ve tasted amazing…”

“Yeah, it was. But, tell me about your dinner, ___. I’m sure you had more than just grilled mackerel.” Seungcheol chuckled, a blush spreading across your cheeks as you mentally cussed at how the older male still has an effect on you despite being 2 hours away and talking to you through a phone.

“Well… Mom made raw crabs and seafood soup!”

“Looks like my little puppy is eating well... That’s good.”

“Is there another reason you wanted to call, Cheollie?”

There was a moment of silence on the other end, making you slightly anxious. You hear a faint rustling, thinking he must be lying on his bed as he’s talking to you. A sigh was heard before Seungcheol told you his motive for calling you - and to say it had you on the floor was an understatement.

No, this man had you envisioning a future with him.

“I miss you.”

When you didn't respond, Seungcheol got worried, calling out your name on the other end while you remained stunned at his confession.

“U-uhm, yeah?”

“Did that make you uncomfortable, pup?”

“No, no, it just… It just caught me by surprise…”

You hear Seungcheol chuckle, and more rustling can be heard before he speaks again. “Well, I’m used to having you around me, twenty-four seven, ___. It feels weird when you’re not.”

“I’ll be back in two weeks, Cheollie. You’re being dramatic!”

Maybe he was, the older male thought to himself. But, he pushes that thought to the back of his head as he finally tells you the real reason he’s calling you.

“My parents are thinking of bringing me to Seoul this weekend to check out a few unis… I just thought that I’d let you know since, y’know… I’m graduating soon…”

Your heart sank at the mention of him graduating. You knew it was bound to happen - you even told yourself to not be too sad when he does end up moving out of Daegu for college. But, to hear it coming from Seungcheol himself, the reality hit harder.

“Oh… Well, I’m happy for you!” you tried your best to hide the sadness in your voice, though he still picked it up. “Pup, I’m not going away forever. You’ll still see me when I come back during breaks and when you leave for college, you can come over to Seoul, too!” he assures you, chuckling to himself as he continues, “Maybe our parents might even have us share an apartment so I can watch over you.”

Humming, you stared up into the sky, mesmerised by the stars that were scattered along the blanket of the night sky.

“___?”

“Yea…?”

“Remember what I taught you during our taekwondo sessions?”

“What about it?”

“Don’t forget how to use them, okay? Can’t have my little puppy all defenceless now, can I?”

you bit your lip as Seungcheol went on with his words, how he wished he could stay in Daegu longer so he could spend more time with you. How he wanted to explore the bigger city in Daegu with you (where he implies it being just two of you and without Aki who would often nag at him for having a bad taste in things).

“I’m gonna miss you…” you muttered quietly, not knowing how or what else you were supposed to say. You weren’t going to tell him about your feelings, that’s for sure. but, a part of you wished you could.

Who knows? Maybe you both could end up being something.

“It’s getting late, pup. you must be tired from the flight and settling in. Goodnight, ___.”

“Goodnight, Cheollie…”

When the call ended, you stared at the screen of your phone, a million thoughts racing through your head. You couldn’t put a finger on it, but you had a sinking feeling in your stomach. perhaps you were overthinking the whole situation or something wrong was bound to happen. Whatever it was, you quietly got back into your room and crawled into bed.

Something didn’t feel right.

It was the weekend Seungcheol was due to head to Seoul to have a look at the city and attend a few of the education fairs - and not once, had you gotten a single message from him.

In fact, in the days leading up to that weekend, he had been quiet too. His replies were either short, took too long or there weren’t any replies at all.

It makes you feel uneasy.

“Still no updates from loverboy?” Seungkwan asks, glancing over your shoulder and peeking at your phone, seeing the wall of texts about how the past few days have gone down for you. When you sulkingly shake your head, Seungkwan’s heart aches as he sees his favourite cousin down in the dumps.

“Hey,” he calls out in a gentle tone, throwing an arm around your shoulder and pulling you close. “Maybe he’s just caught up with those college things. Sooner or later he’s bound to update you, right? Besides, you should be busy having fun here in Jeju!”

Looking at your phone one last time, you shoved it back into your pocket and let Seungkwan drag you to a food street, saying how they added more delicious treats since the last time you visited.

By evening, there was still no news about or from Seungcheol. You’ve tried calling him multiple times, but they all end up going to voicemail. It was starting to affect you and your parents began to take notice, but decided to not question it for fear of triggering an episode. After dinner, you decided to call Aki in an attempt to get some form of comfort.

“I just don’t understand, Aki,” you told her, “I texted him, even called him but I got nothing! What if something bad happened to him?”

“Hey now, you’re probably overthinking things. He might just be sorting those uni documents out - you know how lengthy and taxing they can be. Maybe, he’s just tired and needs some rest!”

“You think so?”

“It’s just a guess, ___. whatever it is, I’m sure it isn’t anything serious.”

Oh, how you wished it really wasn’t anything serious.

When the time came to send your parents off at the airport for their trip to London, you had sent a message to Seungcheol and yet again, you got no response. One thing you came to realise in recent years, was how big of an over-thinker you are. It was something you hated and while your family, Seungcheol and Aki have done whatever they can to help you lessen your overthinking, that still doesn’t stop it from creeping up on you from time to time.

Seungkwan does his best to cheer you up. Bringing you to more food streets, a maze field, and even the seaside to take your mind off of Seungcheol but alas, it was as if Seungcheol had taken over your mind just like the virus in ‘The Last of Us’. One evening as you sat on the sand of the beach, staring off into the horizon, Seungkwan came up and sat next to you.

“I know this might not sound nice, but you can’t let something like Seungcheol not responding to you ruin your trip, ___. Sure, it’s upsetting having someone you’ve known for years and care for go ghost on you, but it’s kind of… pathetic, to let it ruin what could be a fun summer vacation.”

As much as those words hurt you, Seungkwan was right.

You hadn’t seen your family that lived in Jeju for years and now that you can, you’re letting something like your crush not responding to you ruin it. “Then, what should I do, Kwannie…?” you asked, wiping the tears that were starting to stream down your face, “I don’t wanna leave Jeju knowing I didn’t get to spend time with you and our grandparents…”

“How about you try calling him only once? If he doesn’t pick up, we’ll forget about it and move on, okay?”

You give it a thought, minutes passing by before you pick up your phone and dial Seungcheol’s number, placing it near your ear.

“We’re sorry, the number you have dialled cannot be reached.”

Seungkwan noticed your body shaking as you redialled the number, your breathing starting to grow shallow.

“We’re sorry, the number you have dialled cannot be reached.”

“___?” Seungkwan calls out, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. When you began to cry, he pulled you into a hug, rubbing your back as you cried your heart out. “Shhh, it’s okay, ____. it’s okay.”

When you got back to Daegu, your heart dropped at the sight of the empty house next to yours. the entire house looked as if it were fully emptied (which it was) - the potted plants Mrs. Choi had displayed on the gates were nowhere to be seen, the shoes that were neatly arranged on the shoe rack weren’t there anymore, and the Choi’s family car wasn’t parked in its usual place.

“I guess they must’ve moved since Seungcheol is going to start college soon…” your mother tells your father who hums in response as he unloads the luggage from the trunk of the taxi. When she notices the sadness and tears in your eyes, she immediately starts comforting you.”Oh, sweetie… Does it upset you that much?”

“I… I couldn’t even say goodbye to him…” you sobbed out, “I couldn’t even see him one last time before he left…”

“Oh, princess…” your father coos after bidding the taxi driver goodbye, hugging you tight as your mother does the same, “I’m sure he feels sad for not being able to do the same, hmm?”

“Will… Will I… Will I be able to see him again?” you asked through hiccuped sobs, wiping your tears away as more kept spilling. Your mother nods, giving you a pat on the head. “I'm sure you will, honey.”

“He said he’s thinking of joining University of Pledis, right?” your father asked, a small smile on his face when you nod, “Then, you just need to study hard and get in there too! That way, you can finally be reunited with prince charming!”

despite your tears, you still manage to laugh at your dad’s tease. “Dad!”

“Ah-ah, don’t think we didn’t know about your little crush on Seungcheol, ___.” he responded, chuckling as he gave your arm an assuring squeeze.

“Whatever the future has in store, I’m sure the two of you will meet again.”

taglist (unable to tag a few ㅠㅠ)

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drurrito · 2 months

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Home

A/N: You're going to have to pry retired!avengers reader x Natasha au from my cold, dead hands. Anyway, I wanted to see if I could quickly churn out a little something before needing to focus my attention on this stupid MSJ memo.

From a drabble list: #34 - "The boxes are all labeled incorrectly."

Parings: Natasha x Reader

Warnings: time...and it's a little angsty ig but there's a happy ending.

----------------

You slice through the tape with ease and toss the box cutter to the side.

"Huh, so that's where I packed my boxing gear," you lift your gloves out of the box and set them aside. Moving has been anything but a breeze. Natasha finally pried your last remaining stubborn fingers that had a death grip on your life as an Avenger. Your retirement party was too-perfect. Even Fury was there to send you off. You hated it. Natasha knew from the jump you wanted to die an Avenger, not some washed-up hero that spent retirement trying to find anything to fill the bottomless void left from no longer being needed by the world anymore.

But you love Natasha much, much more than you hate not being an Avenger.

She tried to make it up to you, even picking a house that has a home theater and game room for your poker nights with Tony and the boys. Someplace by the beach while being close enough to the S.H.I.E.L.D. training facility so you can sleep in as long as possible before having to train recruits.

Your new life scares you much more than any bullet, bomb, or power-hungry warlord ever could.

You hear the front door open and keys drop onto the new marble counter that Natasha spent weeks curating. The familiar clicking of heels draws nearer. You feel your wife's nails drag across your back before her fingers dig into the knots between your shoulders.

"There you are," Natasha's voice is so gentle, it has been since your retirement party. She always knew what she wanted with you, and you never gave her reason to doubt you would meet her halfway. Retirement was the last step she needed you to take into this new chapter of your lives. Most people would have rather opted to watch paint dry, but she would have waited forever for you if you needed it.

"How's the unpacking going?" Natasha rests her head on top of yours, letting her arms drape around your neck. You instinctively lean back into her and take a few breaths. Among the most chaotic scenes, Natasha has always been your safe place to land.

"We're making some progress," you trail off, both of your eyes scanning the room that's littered in torn, sliced, and otherwise unopened boxes. You feel Natasha heave a loud sigh against your back. Her arms come up to your shoulders to give you a sympathetic squeeze.

"Wait, why are my dishes in your underwear box?"

You chew on your bottom lip for a moment to buy yourself some time, "because...the boxes are labelled incorrectly."

"And who was in charge of labelling the boxes?"

"I was," you try not to sound so deflated, Natasha's laugh echoes through the mostly empty house.

"Should've hired the recruits to do our dirty work," she smirks and pulls out her phone, "I'll get us take out."

You watch her rattle off your favorite order as she walks down a barren hallway. Maybe retirement won't be so bad after all.

#natasha romanoff #works #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader

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strafepanzer · 6 months

Text

chapter four: loose ends

of love & lemons | k.bakugo | m.list

▸ ▸ ▸ warnings: 18+! angst, more talking about feelings, fem and male receiving oral, making out, alcohol consumption

▸ ▸ ▸ wc: 6.7k

▸ ▸ ▸ a/n: ahhhhhh omg i love the last scene of this fic so much, i hope you enjoy it too!!

Overthinking has always come easy, but this is just ridiculous.

Thoughts plague you as you wander with the rest of the group through the forest path towards the beach. Chatter flows effortlessly, yet your mind ticks.

Why had Shouto acted like that with you? Did he overhear you in the dorm with the rest of the girls? Did he not like seeing you in your swimsuit? Did Bakugo say something to him? Either way, there was no reason for him to be acting like that towards you.

Your lonely upbringing led to you making friends with most people you came across, but your even matchup with Shouto all those years ago had you gravitating towards each other from the get-go. Your easy, fiery personality melted his cold, icy heart and it wasn’t long before you were study buddies, training partners.

You graduated high school together, entered university together. It wasn’t only huge milestones like those that you shared and bonded through, but simple things like going to movies with friends, bar-hopping; hell, you even organized a surprise birthday party for him at the beginning of year and invited everyone he’d formed friendships with over the years.

Including Momo, which you were kinda (very) bitter about at the time.

A shiver runs over your skin and you wrap your arms around yourself, glancing over at a very animated Denki as he explains the importance of nu-metal to Shouto.

Shouto with his two-toned hair and heterochromic eyes, with his fire and his ice, with his inability to read the room and lack of tact. You’d opened up to him about being an only child and having parents that worked away constantly, and he told you about his mum, why he hated his dad so much. Even so, he’d had his dad design you a suit that could withstand the even hottest flames, despite the fact that he never went out of his way to talk to him.

You were best friends.

It’s not his fault that you were – until yesterday— in love (was it love, really?) with him, and he didn’t feel the same. Not his fault that you felt you needed to distance yourself from him. What was his fault was the accusation that the guy you’d fallen for wasn’t genuine.

And he hadn’t even said anything about it to your face.

Why didn’t he say anything to you?

What you feel for Bakugo isn’t the same as what you felt for Shouto. For him, there was longing; there were schoolgirl fantasies of picket fences and weddings and two spoons for one dessert. Of a family with two kids and a dog and a cheesy adult life together. With Bakugo, it’s different. You want to touch him, hold him, feel him. You’ve fallen for his eyes, the dangerous way he looks at you, and his hands, how they feel on you, the size of yours in his; the way he speaks to you, calms you, treats you like you’re more than a crush. It’s now and it’s real, and you’re exploring it together.

You hold your cold fingers against your burning cheeks as you scan the group for him.

He’s looking at you from where he’s walking, a little bit ahead of you, and you speed up to catch him.

“You okay?” He mumbles, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his boardshorts. You resist the urge to drape yourself against him, the naked skin of his back and chest, swells and dips of his muscled arms. You hum a yes, but your eyes are on the ground. “Right, seems like you’re fucking swell.” His sarcasm is comforting, you knock him with your hip.

“Thinking about you.” Your words leave your lips in a sigh, and he arches a brow at you. It wasn’t a lie, not really. “You’re nice to me.” You smile, holding your forearms behind your back.

“Yeah?” He’s intrigued by your admission, probably more confused than anything. “Why are you thinking about that right now?”

“I told the girls I liked you, and they were confused. Apparently, you’re mean.” You shrug.

“Huh.” He raises his eyebrows, doesn’t say anything else. Doesn’t ask why. He’s oddly calm.

“You don’t care that I told them?” You frown.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t say anything.” You grumble childishly, he chuckles.

“What the hell do you want me to say?” He asks softly, drapes an arm over your shoulders, pulls you against him.

You’re sure you stop breathing. You look up at him, but he’s looking ahead— or pointedly avoiding your gaze, you’re not sure. It’s strange how natural it feels, and you smile despite yourself, pull your bottom lip between your teeth and take a breath in through your nose.

The air is cool, but you’re warm, heart beating sporadically in your chest as you walk through the woods, tucked under Bakugo’s arm. It’s peaceful, calm—

“Oi,” Eijiro calls, jogging up to fall into step next to you. “Can’t believe you didn’t tell your best friend that you’ve got a girlfriend.” He complains with a whiny sigh. “Unmanly, Kastuki.”

“Want me to tell you when I take a fucking dump too, dumbass?” Bakugo growls, pulls you closer. “It’s none of your fucking business.” He reiterates.

“I’m your best friend.” He complains, sets his eyes on you. They trail down your neck to your chest where your jacket is unzipped “I like your swimsuit.” He winks, and you flinch as Bakugo holds up a palm, sends off an explosion in his direction.

“Bakugo!” You scold, hide against his chest to shield your eyes.

But Eijiro’s ready for it, used to it, it seems. He simply dodges, flashes you a knowing smile. “Be gentle with him, he’s sensitive.” He winks, again.

“Fuck off, fuckface!” Bakugo yells, and with a laugh, Eijiro jogs back to Kaminari and the group of teens watching the interaction. Kyoka flashes you a thumbs up and you roll your eyes with a grin.

After a few moments, you look up at him. “You didn’t correct him when he called me your girlfriend.”

“You already said you’d be mine.” He shrugs. “If you don’t wanna put a damn label on it, we don’t have to.” His red eyes are looking down at you, ready for a response.

“No, I…” You make it out of the trees and onto the sand, see Aizawa in the distance with a huge bonfire ready to light. Bakugo stops walking, holds you close as your classmates walk past, shouts profanities at anyone who stares too long.

Shouto doesn’t look as he passes.

Your stomach knots up, and you snake an arm around Bakugo’s waist, pull yourself closer to him. He’s warm, and it’s comforting, solid and stable.

The sun is setting oranges and pinks and purples and blues in the sky, reflecting like molasses against the serene waves of the water. Higher in the sky, the moon’s already out, stars twinkling as twilight threatens to take over the sunset.

You don’t want to move, just want to stay under his arm, looking at the sky forever.

“D’ya wanna be my girlfriend?” He asks quietly, and when you look at him, he’s blushing, watching the sun set in the distance. You watch him for a minute, revel in the serenity of the moment; then you stretch up on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“If it means you’re gonna be defending my honour, then yes.” You grin. His eyes flash down to your body, the curves of your torso, your bikini top. He bites his lip.

“Among other things.” He says lowly, voice husky as his free hand comes to rest on your shoulder, thumb drawing along your collarbone, nudging the jacket from your shoulder. “Your swimsuit,” His eyes are watching his fingers trace the orange piping of one of the triangles.

You shiver, and you’re sure nipple beads under his touch; your whole face heats up. “H-happy coincidence.” You whisper, the same twisty, fluttering feeling in your stomach returning.

He hums, lips descend to your neck. “Happy indeed.”

“Oi!” Eijiro yells from a distance. “We’re waiting!”

Bakugo huffs a sigh, kisses your neck gently. “To be continued.” He mumbles, nuzzling your ear with his nose, sending another shiver up your spine. He zips up your jacket—all the way to the top—zipper tickling your chin.

“Okay.” You laugh, step away from him and drag your hand down his arm, linking your fingers. A shy smile grows on your face as you lead him over to the group, Aizawa is staring at the pair of you with a raised eyebrow.

“What’s this? A couple? In my camp? I give you all far too much freedom.” He grumbles, and Bakugo squeezes your hand. Kyoka pokes you in the arm, waggles her eyebrows when you look at her. “We’ve been cut short.” He says, sighing. “We’re heading back tomorrow because of reasons out of my control, so I’ve put on a party for you.”

“A party?” Deku gasps, chatter ensues.

“But!” Aizawa calls over the noise. “I have a speech that you have to listen to before I go.” His eyes briefly shift to you and Bakugo, then to some of the other students. “I understand that youth is… exciting.”

“Sensei, please.” Kaminari groans. “Not the birds and the bees.”

He ignores him. “You’re making friends, dating, being young.” He takes a pause, for the drama, probably. “But for you, life after university doesn’t entail boring office jobs or climbing the corporate ladder, does it?” You glance around, everyone looks as confused as you. “You will be heroes. I know about your job offers. Four of you have offers overseas, the rest of you have at least one offer here.”

You see where this is going. The cool wind on the beach picks up, and you pull your hand from Bakugo’s grip to fold your arms.

“You’re bound to get even more offers come graduation.” He continues, takes a deep breath. “It’s going to be exciting and new, and although the bonds you create here will be lasting, they’ll be… interrupted.” He rubs his face, tucks some hair behind his ear. “What I’m trying to drive home is this: don’t let the bonds you have affect your journey. Don’t take an offer with a lesser company because your best friend is close by, or your girlfriend doesn’t want you to leave the country.”

You feel that last one like a slap in the face.

Suddenly the vague tidbit of gossip about Bakugo heading to the U.S after graduation is in the forefront of your brain.

There’s a heavy silence, and your stomach is in your throat. You want to look up at Bakugo, gauge his reaction, but you’re frozen.

“Well, just something to think about, I guess.” His tone lightens, and he picks up some bags. “I got takeout. Cooler is full of drinks, but please—for my sanity—don’t drink too much; All Might’s the one who put the deposit down on the cabin and it wasn’t cheap.” He hands a bag to you, one to Kyoka, two to Iida, and trudges off.

There’s a stunned silence, until Bakugo takes the bag from you, opens it and digs some containers out.

“I’m gonna have this one,” he says, holds it out for you to take. “What do you want?” Kaminari and Eijiro flank Kyoka for food and there’s chatter where Iida’s trying to fairly assign containers.

“Uh, the same?” Your voice is small, and he sends you a pointed glare. You cave, tell him your favourite take out dish, and he fishes it out, hands the bag to Deku.

“Come with me.” He grabs your hand, drags you towards the water’s edge. He sits, and you follow suit.

“Look, if you—”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes, pokes you in the forehead. “I like you, you like me. Don’t fucking listen to him.”

“But—”

“If you don’t wanna do this, we won’t.” He frowns, rests a wrist on a propped-up knee.

“I do!” You argue, pout. He grins, leans over and kisses your lips.

“Then we’re doin’ it.” He takes his container from your hand, replaces it with yours.

You glance down at the food, his hands. “You forgot utensils.” He realises it as you say it, frowns over at you, embarrassed, then bounds up, heads back to the group. You follow him with the food, a little anxious at your classmate’s reactions to the PDA, but mostly everyone is busy, itching to eat something.

Shouto is crouching by the unlit bonfire, left pointer finger pointed at the base as if he wants to light it. He feels your eyes, turns, and you give him a small grin and a wave. He sends you a tight smile and turns away.

“Here,” Bakugo hands you a pair of chopsticks, follows your line of sight.

“He hates me.” You sigh, glance up at him. “Not that you care.”

“I care. I just don’t want the fucker getting between us.” He sends Shouto’s back a glare of his own, and nods towards Deku and Kaminari, who are sitting on a log with Kirishima and Sero; Kyoka’s on a towel in front of them. “Wanna sit with your friends?”

“They’re your friends, too.” You roll your eyes, lead the way over to them.

“Eh, I put up with Eiji for reasons unknown.” He shrugs, but you gasp at the nickname.

“Eiji?”

“Shut up.” He glares, but you just laugh, fall down onto Kyoka’s towel next to her.

“Hey.” You chirp, conversation stops. You get the feeling that if Bakugo wasn’t sitting down on the log next to Kaminari, that you’d be met with a thousand questions.

“Hey?” Kyoka scoffs, eyeing you with a raised brow.

“Yeah, can’t come over here holding hands and expect us not to ask questions.” Eijiro gets up, slides between Kaminari and Bakugo, nudges Bakugo, almost knocks him off the log.

“Fuckin’ shitty—” He grumbles, but you cut him off.

“Ask away.” You shrug, opening your takeaway box and hiding a smile behind it. They jump on you.

“How?” Kirishima.

“Why?” Sero.

“When?” Deku.

“What exactly is it about this guy that you like?” Kirishima asks again, and you feel all eyes on you. All questions directed at you.

“Ah, well,” you did offer for them to ask you. Bakugo’s eating, but you can tell he’s just as interested in your answers as everyone else. “Look at him.” You shrug.

There’s a burst of laughter and Denki and Sero are complaining.

“You can’t do that! You can’t just fall back on looks! He’s looked like that for years.” Denki complains, annoyed.

“Yeah, we wanna know what he did to finally bag you.” Sero grins, and Bakugo bristles.

Finally?

The boys on the log all see your confusion, and they glance at Bakugo, who is busying himself with his food.

“You didn’t tell her?” Eijiro asks, but Bakugo says nothing, shoves a lump of chicken into his mouth and looks out at the water.

“Tell me what?” You’re suspicious now, but it doesn’t outweigh your hunger. You hoe down another mouthful of food.

“He’s liked you since high school, that’s what.” The red head laughs. But it can’t be right, because the whole reason this thing with him started was because—

“I told you I didn’t like her like that.” He says, reading your thoughts as he waves his chopsticks in your direction. “Your imagination is fuckin’ wild.”

Eijiro ignores the interaction between the two of you. “Yeah, remember in our final year’s sport’s festival when you turned into a human torch and your clothes—” Disintegrated.

“Okay, okay, yeah, I don’t want to remember that.” You laugh, whole body heating up in embarrassment.

“You’re making me sound like a fucking pervert, it wasn’t because she was naked that I fucking—you know what? I don’t need—” Bakugo’s getting flustered, and you’re enjoying every second. “Just fucking drop it, or I’ll kill you.”

“Technically, Cementoss cubed her in before anyone could see anything anyway.” Kyoka adds, thumbing in your direction. “But you’re telling me that you knew, and you didn’t tell me?” She glares at Denki then, who jumps in shock at her accusation.

“He said he’d kill me!” He defends dramatically.

Your attention creeps back to your boyfriend—you’ll need to get used to calling him that—and you watch him as he eats, looks out to the ocean, steals a glance at you. You grin at him, and he blushes, rolls his eyes.

The rest of the class find their way to the adjoining logs, towels are laid down for the students that were too slow, as everyone sits down to enjoy the food. When the food’s gone—Iida, Izuku and Bakugo eat thirds—Denki rushes back to the house with Kyoka to get her hero boots—for music, of course—and chatter ensues.

Mostly about you and Bakugo.

Go figure.

“Come for a walk.” Bakugo holds his hand out for you to take, and you grab it. Then you’re slipping off your sandals and walking along the edge of the water, bathed by the last light of the barely there sun.

You chuckle, he glances down at you, brow arched in a silent ‘what?’. “You really like me.” You laugh, poking him in the stomach. “How embarrassing!”

“Wow.” He rolls his eyes, but he can’t hide the ghost of a smirk on his face. “Really mature.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” You ask, watching as the water runs up to cover your feet, sand tickling the tops of them.

“Doesn’t fucking matter.” He grumbles, looks up at the stars.

“Katsuki,” You smile, testing his name on your lips as you turn to him, cover your joined hands with your free one. “Kiss me.” You demand gently, propping up on your tippy toes, and licking your lips.

He doesn’t reply, just covers your mouth with his, presses a hand to the back of your neck. You drop his hands and run your fingers through his hair, hum against his lips as his other hand dips under your jacket and runs up your back.

With a surprising push, you tumble the both of you down onto the sand, laughing. You’re straddling him, running your hands down his torso, lips on his throat as he reaches for the lip of your zipper, runs it all the way down until your jacket’s open.

He breathes your name and you stop, push back to meet his eyes. “I, uh,” he starts, staring up at you; he pushes some hair from your face and runs his thumb along your wet bottom lip. “I’m not just… second best, right?” He says it so softly, you’re not sure it’d even come out of his mouth.

“No.” You frown. What? “No way.” You’re torn between being sad for him—it’d take a lot for him to ask—and being offended that he felt you’re ingenuine.

“Fuck, it’s just,” he breathes, drags his hand down his face. “I’m not used to this, and I’ve wanted you for a really fucking long time, so…”

“It’s okay,” You mumble, lean down to kiss his forehead. “I’m here.” His nose. “Touch me.” His lips. You look into his eyes for a brief moment, then his kissing you hungrily, hands in your hair, leaving you breathless.

“Okay you two, that’s enough!” Mina yells. You take your lips from Bakugo’s neck and sit up, send her a glare that she probably can’t see. The sun’s completely gone now, moon high up in the sky surrounded by the kind of stars you can only see out by the countryside. It’s nothing like being in the deep smog of the city.

Bakugo gropes your butt over your swimmers. “I’m not done.” He grumbles lowly. You laugh down at him, pinch one of his pretty pink nipples. “Oi—”

“Come on!” She yells, closer. “Geez, I can’t believe I’ve gotta find out about you two from Denki. Denki! I thought we were friends.” She rants, closer. You hop off of Bakugo, dust the sand from your knees and calves.

“I’m sorry, it’s kind of a sudden thing—”

“Why the fuck are you screaming at us to come back?” Bakugo snaps, turning his back to Mina, adjusting his… oh. You laugh and link arms with her, hold your hand out for him to take when he’s ready—which he does. It’s nice to hold his hand. Good to just be touching him.

“We’re about to light the bonfire, and y’know, who better to do it?” Mina sighs, leaning her head against your shoulder.

“Uh, Shouto?” You snort.

“Don’t know where he is. He took off with Momo and they’re not on the beach; Tsu said not to bother with looking for them.” She shrugs as the three of you trudge up the beach, through the soft, dry sand.

“Couldn’t have pretended you couldn’t see us, though? Fucking figures.” Bakugo mumbles, and you squeeze his hand, send him a smile over your shoulder.

“Shut up, stop being such an asshole.” Mina grumbles. A few of your friends cheer upon your arrival.

“Fire time!” Denki announces, bouncing up from the log he was perched by Kyoka on. “Okay, Fire Princess, light us up!” He does a jiggy dance, points dramatically at the fire. Mina jogs over to sit next to Toru, and Bakugo rests his chin on your shoulder.

“C’mon, Fire Princess, we’ve got things to do.” He whispers in your ear.

“Are you ‘things’?” You laugh, raise an eyebrow at him.

“Maybe.” He shrugs. You laugh and shake him off, move closer to the huge mound of logs and sticks and kindling, crouch at the base. Generally, you’d use your hands to shoot the fire, but you’d been training on something you called ‘dragon technique’ lately, and—if it didn’t get out of control—it’d look really fucking sick.

You pick a spot right at the centre of the base, between the logs and sticks, and—like blowing out a candle—you purse your lips and blow, the flames hitting their target with ease. Your friends cheer, and you shoot a look back at Bakugo as you tuck some hair behind your ear.

Like any normal fire without petrol, it takes a while to grow in size, but it doesn’t matter. Bakugo lays his towel out and you drape yourself between his legs, both of you watching the fire grow —and Ochako and Mina dancing in front of it—as Kyoka plays some pop/rock song that she’s been ‘totally obsessed with lately’ from her boots.

“Here!” Kirishima grins, throws you both a drink. You sit up to catch yours, the other one whooshes past your head and into Bakugo’s hand.

It’s beer.

“I don’t know if you drinking is the best idea.” Bakugo says lowly in your ear, reaching over to pluck it out of your hands. “Remember last time?”

“Last time?” Eijiro butts in, looking at you quizzically.

“Ah, don’t worry about it, boring story.” You laugh, toss a look over your shoulder at Bakugo, who’s drinking your beer, Adam’s apple bobbing.

You glance around and find Momo sitting with Mineta and Tokoyami, beers in their hands, no Shouto in sight, which is strange until,

“Can I have a word?” You look up and see Shouto, standing over you and Bakugo. God, he’s so fucking quiet, like a ninja. You feel Bakugo tense behind you, so you pinch his thigh.

“Yeah, of course.” You smile, moving to get up. Before you’re at full height, Bakugo grabs your jacket, pulls you down by the collar to plant a kiss on your lips.

He doesn’t say anything, but you can see the pleading look in his eyes; it shoots into your heart like an arrow.

“Be right back.” You smile, trying to reassure him, then you ruffle his hair and follow after Shouto, who must have walked off the moment Bakugo kissed you.

It’s quiet, besides the music thumping in the background. Serene.

“I’m sorry.” He says quietly, looking up at the moon. You follow his line of sight, take in the glowing orb, shadowy craters scattering its surface. When you don’t say anything, he elaborates. “I didn’t think of your feelings, or Momo’s. I can…” He takes a breath, huffs a sigh. “I can tell you like him, and he can’t keep his hands off of you, so—”

“Alright, alright, that’s enough, you’re making it weird.” You laugh, the weight of the past few days falling off of your shoulders. It's embarrassing how a few simple words could completely diffuse the situation.

“Bakugo seems to really like you, but if he ever hurts you, I’ll kill him.” He says seriously, stopping in his tracks, looking down at you.

“I think I’ll be okay, Shouto.” You smile. You hold out your arms for a hug, but when he steps closer, there’s a loud whistle.

You both look to see Bakugo watching, arms crossed over his chest. “TWO FUCKING FEET APART!” He yells, Kirishima chuckles into a fist next to him.

Shouto retracts his step, shakes his head with a smile. “As long as you don’t hate me.” He rests a hand on top of your head, smiles and takes it off.

“I don’t think I could, to be honest.” You beam up at him. And it’s the truth, he’d always hold a special place in your heart: the first love, the best friend. “C’mon, you need to go thank your girlfriend for making you a better person.” You nod towards the group, see Bakugo sit back on the towel in the distance.

“True, true.” He runs a hand through his hair, turns and begins walking you back to the group. “So, you’ll keep training with me?” He asks, almost a mumble.

“I… I hadn’t thought about stopping that, Shouto.” You say, brows furrowed. You usually spend holidays with the Todoroki’s, with your parents generally gone during them. Gone almost always.

Last year, you even spent Christmas with them.

Endeavour even called you the morning of your birthday.

“Good. Endeavour would be… disappointed.” He says slowly, flicking his hair out of his eyes with a shake of his head.

You snort. “You mean, I wouldn’t be the buffer?” Endeavour treats you well to impress his youngest son; you know this, he knows this, his siblings know this. You elbow him. “I’m not stupid, Shouto.”

“Sorry.” He chuckles nervously, mildly ashamed. “I mean… thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Okay.” He smiles as you walk back up to Bakugo and Kirishima. “Have a good night.” He calls, gives you one last smile, then scans the group for Momo, heads to her.

The sand crushes beneath your feet, gets between your toes. “Hey,” you call with a smile. Bakugo downs the rest of his beer and smashes the can, tosses it beside another one—also reduced to a misshapen tin ball. “Whoa, slow down, sexy; the night is still young.” You laugh, plant yourself in his lap.

“What, you’re not running off into the sunset with the man of your dreams?” He asks gruffly, signature scowl on his face.

You know he means Shouto, but you wrap your arms around Bakugo’s neck regardless. “No, I’m sitting on his lap while he makes listless accusations.”

“Ooh, big words.” His eyebrows disappear into his hairline, hands grab at your naked thighs.

“Big words for a big girl.” You grin back proudly, leaning up to press your lips to his. “Your girl, Mr I-Need-Constant-Validation.” Your hands sprawl over his chest, feeling the hard muscle, as his face flushes pink and he pouts.

“That’s not true.” He scoffs. You laugh and kiss him again, and Kirishima clears his throat. You pull away, embarrassed, and look over to him.

“Just want you to know that I’m still here.” He chuckles bashfully, flashing his razor-sharp teeth at you in a grin.

“Sorry—”

“Maybe you should leave then, idiot.” Bakugo snaps at him, eyes still on you.

“Mean.” You pout. “He’s your bestie.”

“I don’t see yours hovering around.” He says against your lips.

“I’m still here.” He groans, and you kiss again. “Alright, consider me gone.” He shakes his head with a slight laugh, springs up from his spot on the sand, mutters something as he walks away.

Bakugo actually laughs, and it’s so smooth and reassuring that you lean in for another kiss, drape yourself all over him. “I think… we need to ditch this party.” He whispers.

You agree, but deep down you know bonding with the group is important, especially now with graduation looming overhead. “The party just started! And Aizawa got us beer.”

“And vodka.” Kyoka announces her arrival, Bakugo groans. “Hey to you too, asshat.” She smiles, joins you on the towel, hands you a can.

“Thanks.” You smile.

Bakugo lifts you from his lap, places you easily next to Kyoka. “I’ll go get my own drink.” He says, sends your friend a glare, and trudges off.

“I know Denki’s an idiot, but that guy? Hard work.” She laughs, takes a sip. “Probably cranky because he’s up past his bedtime.”

You laugh, watch him as he approaches Momo and Shouto. “Ah, he puts up a front. Once you get past his hard exterior, he’s a softie.” You smile, turning back to her. She snorts. “He is!”

“Oh god, you really like him. Like, a lot.” She accuses, whacking your shoulder.

Yeah. Yeah, you do. It’s kinda scary, and Aizawa’s words ring back through your mind.

“Do you and Denki know what you’re doing after UA?” You ask, changing the subject, curious about what they’d discussed. As a couple.

“Hm? Ah, every time I bring it up, he gets upset.” She sighs, shakes her head.

“Really?” You take your first sip of the vodka, cringe at the sweetness as it hits your tongue.

“Mm.” She nods, lays down and rests her head on your lap. “We had another argument about it when we went back to camp to get my boots.” You smile sympathetically down at her, dust her bangs from her forehead with your fingers. “I actually have a lot of offers, mostly spy work, but still. He… he’s upset about it. Doesn’t want me to go too far.”

“That’s sweet, isn’t it? You sound annoyed.”

“I am annoyed.” She frowns, tries to drink from her can laying down, but it dribbles from the side of her mouth, down your thigh, and you squeak, jolt at the cold.

“Shit!” You yelp, and she chokes on her drink as she laughs, and more splutters over your lap and your jacket as she struggles to sit up. “Kyoka!”

“I’m sorry!” She laughs, wipes tears from her eyes and vodka from her mouth.

“Get up, we’re going in the water.” You say, standing up, wiping at the rivulets running down your legs.

“Oh, no I’m not. It’s cold as fuck.” She frowns, swats your hands away as you try to grab her.

“Yes, you are! Come on, we’re at a beach!” You argue, stand to unzip your jacket, shrug it from your shoulders and let it fall to the towel. “Get up, Kyoka.” You’re pleading, now, hell-bent on getting in the water.

A low whistle travels through the air, just loud enough for you to hear over the music. You look around and see Mineta sitting on a towel not too far away, staring at you. He winks at you, and you bristle, your eye twitches in annoyance. But before you can chew him out, the menacing presence of your new boyfriend fills the air, and his hands are splaying over your stomach, his red eyes glaring at your pervy classmate.

“You like your eyes in their sockets, asshat?” He asks, just loud enough for Mineta to hear. He pales, swallows, and nods. “Then keep them off my girlfriend.”

It’s in that moment that you decide Bakugo’s scarier when he doesn’t swear. Its menacing, bone-chilling.

He reaches down for your jacket, kisses your lips on his way back up to standing. “Let’s get outta here.”

“But—”

“Gotta clean you up, don’t we?” He asks huskily, and there’s a glint in his eye that makes your heart stammer, sends your brain into overdrive.

“Y-yeah, we do.”

“Okay, goodbye, have fun getting freaky.” Kyoka says quickly, and you poke your tongue at her, before you’re walking away under his arm, heading towards the forest.

“Hot spring?” You ask, glancing up at him.

“If we make it there.” He grins.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You narrow your eyes playfully, and he shrugs innocently as he takes you away from the forest path. “Bakugo,” you laugh. “Where are you taking me?”

“Just here, against this tree.” He grunts, swinging you around until you’re—laughing— backed up against the trunk of a thick redwood.

“What’s that even mean—” you ask, but he drops to his knees in front of you, and your whole body goes hot. The moon shines brightly through the canopy of the trees, bathing Bakugo in a kind of angelic glow, so incredibly unlike him. How ironic. He licks his lips as his hands reach for the backs of your knees, edges his mouth closer to your sticky thighs. “N—Baku—”

“Shh,” he coos softly, dark eyes staring up at you as you dig your fingers into the bark of the tree, suck your bottom lip between your teeth. His lips ghost over one of your knees and he trails slow—painfully slow—wet kisses up your thigh, licking over the sticky residue left over from Kyoka’s drink.

You manage to keep it relatively together, until a hand goes to your hip, and he licks up so close to the apex of your thighs that you moan, and he growls, hands gripping you tighter.

“Gonna make you feel good.” He promises, voice rough and gravelly as he looks up at you, nose running up your clothed slit.

“Bakugo!” You jolt, but he doesn’t stop, replaces his nose with his lips, tongue. He pulls your hips closer to his face, tongue running along the nylon, drenching it, making it stick to your lips. Then a hand is gone from your hip, and your swimmers are pulled to the side, and his lips kiss your pussy, tongue licks a stripe up your folds, and your fingernails are digging into his scalp as your head thunks against the tree, eyes screwed shut because, “Fuck,” you breathe, gasping.

You can hear him growl, feel the vibration against your clit as he wraps his lips around the bud and sucks.

You barely muffle your cry, as pleasure runs hot through your bones and you go spineless, collapsing into his arms. He doesn’t give you much time to recover, kissing you hard, slippery tongue between your teeth coaxing more moans from you, revving you back up again.

His fingers rub you gently between your thighs, toying with the wetness. “I think we made a bigger mess.”

“Ugh, shut up.” You groan, embarrassed, and he licks his lips before capturing yours again in another hungry kiss. You’re pulled onto his lap, straddling him, and rubs you more surely, teases you with a finger. “Do it,” you urge him, breathless yet again, and he wastes no time

“So wet, baby.” He moans, jerking his hips up with his finger’s thrusts, kissing your cheek, then your neck. Your head falls back, the now familiar pleasure building as he adds another finger.

“Let me… I’ll do you, too.” You breathe heavily, grabbing at the strings of his board shorts, ripping the Velcro open.

When you finally have him in your hands, he groans against your mouth, and you pull away from him to spit on your hand, before giving him a few wet pumps and kissing him again.

“You…” you breathe, and he looks at you, slows his fingers. “Do you want to pu—”

“No,” he chuckles, uses his free hand to push the hair from your face. “Not here.”

“Are you sure, because I—” he kisses you quiet, pushes a third finger into you, and your head falls to his shoulder, whole body on edge again. “Ahh, f—feels good, Katsuki.” You breathe, and he bucks up into your hand, reminding you to do him, too.

“Say it again.” He growls, licks a stripe up your neck, nips at your ear. “My name,” he breathes.

You moan, his fingers hitting that spot again, and again, and again—“Katsu—” and you’re coming again, back arching, whole body going tight, stars spinning behind your eyes as his face nuzzles your chest.

He pulls himself out of your hand, ready to finish himself off, but you’re hungry for him already, pushing him back, taking him between your lips for the second time that day.

He’s groaning—a salty, musky mess—and it makes your head spin, gives you a power you never even dreamed you’d have. You look up at him through your lashes, see his dark eyes drinking you in. He reaches down and pulls your bikini up—breasts springing free—and gropes at your tits, closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against the grass in bliss.

You grip a thigh, hold him down with a splayed hand over his chiselled abs, and take him deep once, twice, three times, before coming up for air, eyes watering. He grunts, pushes back up into you, and you do it again. His hands are in your hair, holding you down as he calls your name, and he cums hot and heavy down your throat, cock pulsating between your lips.

You swallow all of him.

“Ah, s-sorry,” he breathes heavily, sitting up to check on you, pushing your hair from your face, and holding you like you’re made of glass.

“Mmm… Hold me,” you smile blissfully, fall against his chest as he chuckles, kisses your hair. “This’d be better in a bed. We could just… fall asleep.” He hums in response, traces patterns on your back, tickling the skin.

“Do you wanna go back to the party?”

“Won't that be… suspicious?” You smile up at him. He kisses you, holds your face with both of his hands, rubs his thumbs along your cheeks.

He’s stirring it back up within you, conditioning you to want him after every deep, sensual kiss. He pulls back, breathless.

“You think I give a fuck what those extras think?” He says, tone betraying the almost grin on his face. You roll our eyes, push away from him and stand up.

“Come on, then.” You whine, fix your bikini top, then the bottoms.

“Babe, you look so good; come back down here.” He bites his bottom lip, and it’s so sexy that your eyes go wide, face blazing as you take him in: half-naked, cock out, sweaty, flushed.

“If I come back down there to you, I’m making you fuck me, so let’s just go.” You cross your arms, pick up your jacket, and turn, heading towards the fire.

“Oi, I said come back here!” He calls, fixing himself up, and following. You break into a run, and you’re laughing as he chases you, dodging trees until you’re on the beach. He’s hot on your heels, so you drop your jacket, make a sprint for the water. “Come here!” He’s yelling, but you’re still laughing as you enter the freezing water, fall against a wave.

When you come back up, he grabs you, pulls you onto his lap and kisses you gently. His hair is wet, flat against his head, and he shakes it out, attempts to fluff it back up.

“Gotcha.” He grins, and you kiss him again, bathed by moonlight, your fingernails in his hair, his hands on your back.

#bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #leese writes #ol&l fic

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thelightsandtheroses · 5 months

Text

Four: rumours about my hips and thighs and my whispered sighs

Your Hand In Mine | Joel Miller x female reader.

Chapter Summary: Joel and your relationship continues to develop, as more people in Jackson find out about the two of you. Chapter Warnings: 18+ blog, MDNI, mild smut, brief reference to FEDRA punishments and death, reader is a single parent to a teenager, small town gossip, intimacy and a little fluff maybe? Word Count: 4.1k Notes - Thank you so much for your patience with this chapter. So, a lot of you know that writing smut is not the most natural thing for me and I get very anxious about these scenes so I’ve tried to write this one in a slightly different way as a gamble and I really hope you all still like it. The chapter title is from Is It Over Now? by Taylor Swift

Previous | Series | Next

There’s a polaroid on your bedside table. It’s faded over the years but it still rests in pride of place, tucked into the edge of a framed photo of you and Gabriel in Kansas.

Sean’s sister said it was important to take photos. She said it was important to have a record of your life and loved ones. The only problem was she spent her time behind the camera and you’ve struggled to find any photos of her for Sean since … since then, since FEDRA, since Kansas.

You move to the bedside table and reach for the polaroid, holding it up to the fading daylight.

It was taken Before, by the beach where you spent so much time. It’s Sean and you by a bonfire. He’s trying to look cool with his perfectly undone hair and surfer style, while you’re just smiling widely at the camera.

You were both so young, so innocent, back then.

You love this photo though. It’s a reminder that there really was a time before Cordyceps. That once upon a time, you lived in a world where the biggest worry you had was assignments and college and whether the right people liked you.

You’re different now.

It’s been almost a fortnight since your date with Joel and there’s been a clear shift between you. You were worried it would be awkward the first time you returned to the bench with Joel. The night after your date, you found yourself glued to your home, unable to leave as you paced your room nervously and sleeplessness ruled your mind. You wondered then if you had made a massive mistake.

If you went back to the bench the next day, would he be there? What if he wasn’t? Would it be different and could you cope with those shifts in dynamics?

Your mind had been drowning with anxiety but you did return to the bench. You’ve spent years fighting infected and people- you survived the damn end of the world.

You could handle this; you could handle a little change.

Now you realise that for all that has changed, so much has stayed the same.

You still talk on the bench, but you’re touching him more, you’re closer and closer by the day. You’ve discovered your hand fits perfectly in his.

It’s not like before with two lost souls just sharing a view and waiting for the night to pass.

Often now you end up kissing and oh, that’s becoming one of your favourite side effects of insomnia. You wonder if you ever really need to try and sleep if that’s the alternative.

Now your evenings on the bench are spent together, in easy comfort. You laugh at his stupid jokes - Joel told you that he found a book of them and is working through them with Ellie.

This feels like a beginning.

When you see him in town now, he walks over to you and yesterday he had walked you home from the library because it was ‘on his way.’

It’s tentative though; Joel’s taking his cues from you, from the fact that maybe this isn’t like your dalliances and romances before. In Kansas, for the last twenty years really, you felt like the world was ending all the time. There was no time for build-up in a world like that, for a genuine connection or a slow burn. You might be dead at any moment so there was no time for that. It isn’t that love can’t happen in those conditions, you know Beau and Sean are shining examples of this. It’s just for you, your priorities were Gabriel and survival. Pleasure was perfunctory, relationships were only distant, you didn’t think you were built for anything more.

Now, in Jackson, you can breathe. You can be more.

You want to be more.

It’s just how to make that first step, how to reach out and go beyond the bench. Joel was the one to ask you to the Tipsy Bison after all, if it’s up to you to progress things …. well, maybe you need to be bolder.

You wring your hands together and look ahead of you.

You can barely remember putting your coat on or walking over to this house. It’s early evening and the deep pinks and oranges of the sky are turning dark, lights starting to turn on in the commune you call home to beat the shadows ahead.

You’re outside of Joel’s house, in front of the porch You’ve got this, you think. This is a big step. One that feels filled with trepidation and excitement at once.

It’s the fact you want to open up, want to trust Joel that truly scares you. You can remember the last time you felt like this all too well.

It’s different though. It’s completely different.

This is Joel.

There’s an inherent fear in falling for him, falling for anyone. Trusting someone, letting them inside your life, into the nooks and crevices of your soul? That doesn’t come easily to you. Relationships have always been hard that way, even before the world ended or before Gabriel, or before any of it.

You’ve known him for weeks though. He isn’t a stranger., he’s a friend, one you feel more deeply than friendship about. The two of you bonded through your insomnia led conversations, through your bench. In the dim torchlight, both of you have exposed all too much of yourselves.

This is a step further though, it’s bold and maybe a little brazen but it feels right, like it’s time. You like Joel, you want him. He’s solid and caring and real and somehow it feels like you’ve known him so much longer. You like being with him, like the way his lips feel on yours and the way his eyes warm up when he smiles. You like hearing your name from his voice, how he says it like it’s something special. You can’t remember anyone saying your name like that before.

This is a step further though, it’s bold and maybe a little brazen but it feels right, like it’s time.

You take a deep breath and knock on the door.

Joel leans against the edge of the door, his right thumb in the loop of his worn jeans.

“Hi,” he says, voice low and slow.

“Hey,” you reply, shifting from one foot to the other. “I hope it’s okay that I just stopped by.”

“Of course.”

The two of you settle in his kitchen. You watch him put the kettle on the stove, watch the flames on the hob around it.

You place your hands on the top of a wooden dining chair and then in your jacket pockets and then by your side.

What are you doing?

What was your grand plan anyway?

You’re not sure what you’re thinking. Ellie could be here. This is stupid and reckless and -

“I’m glad you’re here,” Joel says, as if reading your mind. “Everything okay?” His brow furrows.

You might need to work on your poker face.

”I -” you pause, unsure of how to proceed, what to say to the man before you. “I was thinking of you.“

“Oh, really?” Something like relief floods Joel’s face, his brow loosens and there’s a flash of something else in his eyes.

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Well, I don’t know where else you want it to go.”

You laugh at his words and feel the tension around you immediately dissipate. “Oh, don’t you?”

“Careful, sweetheart.”

“Careful?”

“I - uh -”

“Where’s Ellie?” you ask as casually as you can, looking around the kitchen.

“She’s out in the garage, wants to turn it into a den or something? Probably won’t see her for hours and hours.”

“That’s a good idea. Gabe would have loved that with ours but Beau made it a gym. Anyone in Jackson can use it though.”

“I heard about something like that,” he says placidly, as if thirty seconds you weren’t flirting.

“It feels odd, like the last twenty years haven’t been enough of a workout, but -”

“It’s normal.”

“Or as close to,” you say softly.

“Exactly.” The kettle is starting to whistle but neither of you move.

“So …”

Joel closes the gap between the two of you.

His lips are on yours almost instantly. For someone who isn’t the most open or transparent in his words, he communicates perfectly with his gestures. The way he puts so many words into the way his lips fit against yours, the hum of a low sound in his throat.

His hands sweep down your side, pushing you against a kitchen counter, your hands bracing the edges as you melt into him.

This isn’t the kissing on a bench, this isn’t like anything you and Joel have done together yet. This is a sea change moment.

As you wrap your hands around his neck to bring him closer, you feel his hands move to where yours were, bracing the edge of the counter as he deepens the kiss once more.

You want his hands on you, not the kitchen counter, you need him.

You can’t tell if it’s the kettle’s crescendo or the blood in your ears but something around you screams. You can’t really care though. The whole house could be burning down now.

Joel pulls away momentarily to turn the kettle off.

“Sorry about that, it got loud.”

“Don’t apologise.”

“You - ”

“I-“

“Sorry, go ahead,” he says, his expression a mix of amusement and something else. There’s a heat in his eyes. It isn’t dangerous; you don’t feel under attack, but you knew exactly what you wanted when you knocked on his door.

You pause, pursing your lips as you try and bring to life the right words, the phrases you rehearsed in your mind as you made the journey between home and here.

Words don’t feel your strength at the best of times though. They fail you and falter and can’t vanquish your foes.

“I’m - I don’t want to talk right now,” you finally say, fixating your gaze on the kitchen floor. For twenty years old, it looks in good condition.

“Really?”

You look up and finally meet Joel’s eyes. He’s smiling at you. You nod.

“So, why’d you come over then?”

“Don’t be an ass.”

“Okay.”

“Is it okay that I’m here?”

“Is it okay you’re here?” Joel asks incredulously, muttering something else you can’t quite make out under his breath. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m impossible?”

“Do you have any idea how hard it’s been?”

You raise your eyebrows. “I live with two men and a teenage boy, I deserve a fucking medal for avoiding the dodgy puns you almost bought on yourself right there.”

“Fuck me.”

You smirk then, uncharacteristically emboldened and raise an eyebrow. “Well?”

“I like you,” Joel says suddenly.

“I like you too,” you say, reaching a hand to touch his bicep, feeling the surprisingly soft flannel fabric. “You’re - I haven’t really dated in Jackson. You’re different, I guess.”

“Good different?”

“Ask me later,” you tease.

He meets your lips. “You seemed so sweet on that bench that first night.”

“Did I? Sweet? I was trying to be standoffish and rude at first so you didn’t come back.”

“But I did.” Joel pauses. “Maybe you weren’t that sweet. I knew you were - I wanted to know you more and then we got talking and - and you’ve been the best part of not being able to sleep in years. Used to numb it all away, but I couldn’t do that here, not anymore. Then there was you.”

“It’s been - been a while, I might -“ Joel says, a bashful look on his face.

“Same, it’s uh, been some time for me too.”

“Okay then.”

“Okay.”

There’s the briefest of moments where you remain silent, separated by an invisible barrier of tension and anticipation.

You break it. You go to him.

It’s time.

It’s the two of you. Lips on you every step of the way to his bedroom, hands entwined with yours as he guides you where you need to be.

You pull your top over your head, keen to lose the layers that are you keeping you from him and you hungrily unbutton his flannel.

It’s how his words oscillate between sweet, gentle encouragement and then convey such unbridled desire and heat in the same breath. His touch is stable, grounded and fills you with heat as his fingers deftly unbutton your trousers, skim over the fabric of your underwear.

You don’t feel uncertain or nervous or self-conscious.

You feel like this is natural.

It’s how his hands explore every part of you, then his lips, accompanied by with whispered words.

It’s power and care together. There’s something different about the way it feels, the way he moves inside you, the way he kisses you, the way he feels.

You feel the tension mounting, the heat building across your body and with every touch, every kiss, every movement, it intensifies, builds in the most delightful way.

You take in every detail of Joel, the heat of his skin, the cross patch of faded and red scars across his body, the sounds he makes and the way it feels as you run your hands through his dampening curls, bring him closer to you in a consuming kiss.

You let go.

You wake up in an unfamiliar but comfortable bed with a beam of daylight blaring through the gap in the curtains . You’re not sure what surprises you more; that you’re with Joel or that you slept through the night.

Joel’s arm is casually strewn over your side, his head burrowed into his other arm and hair dishevelled. You can hear the sound of his breathing, deep and slow.

He looks peaceful like this.

You take in the details of his face. There’s a faded scar by his temple, marks of a life spent surviving and labouring, but asleep he looks younger.

You shut your eyes. You can have five more minutes before you need to wake and get back to Gabriel and your home.

“Hi,” he says, rubbing his eyes.

“Hey. It’s morning.”

“How about that?”

“This was nice.”

“Just nice?”

You shake your head. “More than nice, that work for you?”

“Maybe we ought to make sure - I don’t want you leaving here on just nice.”

You kiss him, let his hands roam down your body as you entwine your own hands around his neck. As his body moves over you and his hand skims down to between your legs, you think you could easily forget about the library or checking in on Gabriel and just spend the rest of the day in Joel’s bed, getting to know every inch of this impossible man.

You hear a loud crash downstairs and Joel winces, rolls back onto his pillow and sighs.

“Next time,” he says.

“It’s a date. Look, I need to get back before Gabriel notices. Do - do you need to run interference so I don’t bump into Ellie?”

“’S fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Joel props himself up on an elbow and regards you carefully. “Do you want me to run interference?”

“I - no, I don’t know. I just wanted to give you the option.” You shrug.

Joel seems deep in thought, his brow furrowed as you wait for his response. For a second, he seems lost, somewhere else entirely.

“There’s no need for that,” he says finally.

“Okay.”

You smile and when he joins you, it’s dazzling. You notice every detail of his face, how his eyes soften when he smiles, how real this moment feels. You could stay here so much longer, you could wake up like this again and again.

You hear another bang downstairs and Joel winces.

“I better get down there.”

You nod. “I’ll be down shortly then.”

Joel nods, smiling tentatively. “I, uh -” He runs a hand over his hair. “Oh, shit I’m no good at this, not anymore, not sure I ever was. “

You briefly kiss him. ”It’s okay. We’re okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You sigh. “Can we talk later though. I mean, I meant to talk to you last night before - before everything.” You need to have that serious conversation about how to move forwards, at one point you will both need to talk to your teenagers, about all of the unsexy, intricate details that are essential but preferably avoided.

“Is that an ominous talk?” Joel asks.

“No,” you say with a smile, “no, it’s not.”

“Then definitely.”

You’re running through a ledger of current book loans when you hear footsteps ahead. You look up and brace yourself without thinking; it isn’t easy to forget years of what’s needed to survive.

You feel your muscles relax as you recognise Maria as she walks into the library, holding her baby closely in her arms.

Maria’s walking over though. You can’t do this in front of her.

“Hi Maria,” you say cheerfully, stepping out from behind your counter.

“Hey,” she says, “I’m sorry, it’s been a while since we caught up.”

“Please don’t apologise, you’ve had more than enough going on,” you say, reaching your hand towards Maria’s daughter’s chubby cheeks. “She’s gorgeous, Maria.“

“Yeah, isn’t she though?” Maria says with a soft sigh.

“How are you doing?” You ask carefully. You can’t imagine how Maria really feels. There is the intense joy of her beautiful, healthy daughter and the simultaneous memories it must bring up of Kevin. You can’t imagine that kind of loss, dread to think what sort of world you could live in without your son.

“I’m okay, I’m good.”

“Good,” you say, trying to wordlessly communicate that if that changes you are here, that you want to be there for her.

You and Maria have been friends since shortly after you arrived in Jackson. When you first entered the community, you were nervous, resistant at best and outright scornful at worst. It didn’t make sense to you a community like this could exist anymore. You needed to find the truth, needed to expose what was really going on.

Maria had found you searching her house one day, eyes wild and on the verge of pulling up floorboards.

It should have been the end of your time at Jackson. She had every right to kick you out of the town for that and you expected her to.

Instead it was the start of a friendship you now rely on. You wonder if Maria saw the truth behind your eyes, could intimate why you might have been so nervous. You’ve never told her though and she’s never asked.

You and Sean haven’t told anybody but Beau. Even Beau only knows a version of the truth. It’s easier that way.

You wonder if Sean is like you - if he’s repeated a story so many times it’s began to feel like the truth.

“I heard - I heard some things on the grapevine and I might have seen you leaving a house this morning” Maria says, her face a picture of contradictions. There’s a sly smile growing on her face but her brow is furrowed.

“Did you now?” You fold your arms, wary of where this is going. There’s only one thing in your life, one person, you think Maria would have heard gossip about.

“So, you and Joel, huh?”

You fight a smile at having guessed correctly. Maria meets your eyes and her expression softens as she watches your reaction.

“It’s … new,” you reply slowly, still idly letting Maria’s daughter clasp your finger and smiling widely at her.

Maria nods and then she bites her lips and seems to ready herself to say something. “He’s …”

“Your brother-in-law?” you note gently, taking a step back to lean against the desk. You’re more certain of Maria’s take on this now and you hope the intention behind your words come through.

Maria sighs, “Yep, you’re right there. Touché.” She smiles, shaking her head lightly. “I didn’t come here to warn you off.”

Good.” You can’t, you realise. It’s not because you’ve slept with him, it’s more than that. You’re coming to realise how deep Joel’s burrowed into your life, how much you care about him.

It is terrifying and wonderful at the same time.

“I guess I was a little surprised though.”

“Surprised?”

“You haven’t shown much interest in dating since you got to Jackson.”

You laugh to yourself, tapping your fingers against the edge of the wooden desk. “Oof, Maria, body blow after body blow, huh? Your mom’s on fire today, sweetheart.” You pause and carefully choose your next words. “It’s not a lie though, is it?”

You take a step back and take a sip from your glass of water as you try and think about the best way to explain what’s happened.

“Look, Maria, I wasn’t exactly looking for anyone, Joel just … turned up in my life and - and I can’t know what this is going to exactly turn into yet or how long, but I want to find out.”

“Okay,” she says, “We can work with that.”

She smiles widely suddenly. “We should all have dinner soon.”

“No, no,” you say, “it is way too early for that.”

“Excuse me, I saw you leaving his house this morning but it’s too early for a dinner?”

“Absolutely it is. I haven’t even talked to Gabriel about this yet and it’s -”

You shouldn’t be surprised that there have been whispers about you and Joel but you’re surprised it’s moved this quickly. Jackson has that cliched small town feel you used to watch cheesy movies about. The one drink with him in the Tipsy Bison was enough to start the rumours but if Maria knows about last night already then the gossip is spreading faster than you expected.

It’s always been difficult to know the moment when to introduce Gabriel to someone you’ve dated, when to tell either party about the other. You love your son and all you have ever wanted is to protect him.

At the same time, you know this feels like something that will become something he needs to know about. You try so hard not to immediately fall for people, to keep your previous relationships at arm’s length, to go into anything with your eyes open and every option evaluated.

You’ve fallen hard before after all.

You shift awkwardly on the spot. You’ll have to talk to Gabriel tonight - keep it brief, keep it simple and casual. It’s only fair he hears about this from you and not some teenage idiot in his class.

“I’m teasing,” Maria says softly, “it’s fine. Though, I know the two of you. So, if this does go where it looks like it will, I’m holding you to that dinner.”

“Deal.”

You’ve almost finished for the day when you notice Joel walk into the library.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you say, placing the pile of CDs you were checking down. Beau stopped by earlier with a pile of discoveries from the morning’s patrol and to confirm he had noticed you were in last night’s clothes this morning.

Joel looks awkward for a moment, loitering by the counter.

“I know you said we should talk and - I didn’t know where else to find you.”

“It’s fine, it’s a good idea actually.” You gesture over to where you’ve placed two battered armchairs in your attempt to create a reading nook.

“It looks good here, like a proper library.”

“Yeah?”

Joel nods and opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something but stops himself.

“You know, you’re not my first visitor today,” you say casually, “I saw Maria earlier.”

“Oh?”

“Seems we’re the talk of the town.”

Joel runs a hand through his hair. “Fantastic.”

“All my dreams have come true at once.”

Joel sighs. “Do you want me to back off then?”

You look at him, your brow furrows in confusion. “Back off?”

“I know it’s harder when you’ve got kids and especially teenagers - if you want space, to let the gossip die down so we don’t have to - I should have realised when you said about interference.” Joel seems to be reciting something he’s ran through in his mind already.

“I don’t want you to back off,” you say with a smile. “I - I don’t know what we’ll be yet, or if any of this is going to work out at all. Hell, in a week we might be working out a bench custody agreement -”

Joel snorts at that. “Okay, I hear you.”

“I like you, Joel, and I - I had fun last night. I’d like to see where this goes. I need you to respect that I have a kid, like I respect you do. We can’t rush this, we can’t -”

“Agreed.”

“I’m kind of glad you turned up on my bench that night, Joel.”

Joel smiles. “Yeah? Me too.”

Tag List

YHIM: @orcasoul @pedropascalsbbg @yoursoulsunbreakable @iamskyereads @genetics4life @everyth1ngfan @frickatives @perennialdoll247 @joelsgreys @pedrobaby @missladym1981 @noisynightmarepoetry @picketniffler

Everything Pedro tag-list: @harriedandharassed @pedrostories @hiroikegawa @pedrosaidsheispunk @pastelnap

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal character #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #your hand in mine fic

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daisynik7 · 9 months

Text

Give You Blue

Chapter 8: How It Begins

Pairing: Eren x f!reader, Reiner x f!reader (past relationship)

cw: switching POVs (reader is 2nd person, Eren is third) angst, fluff, language

Word Count: ~3.5k

Previous Chapter | Epilogue

Give You Blue Masterlist | ao3 | Give You Blue Taglist

Summary: The conclusion of the series Give You Blue. Author’s Note: Seriously, I cannot thank you all enough for sticking with this through the end. I wanted to write a story that was realistic, relatable, and romantic, and I hope that in the end, I accomplished that. I wasn’t sure anyone would want to read a story like this, so I’m so grateful to all of you who have. I appreciate every single one of you so so much. I’ll definitely miss this series, but I’m also relieved to be give our main characters some rest LOL. Stay tuned for the Epilogue, coming out in the next week or so!

Eren fingers are entwined with yours, hands resting on the center console of his car, windows rolled down halfway to let the passing breeze sweep through his hair. Every so often, he’ll glance at you, smiling, sunglasses covering his eyes as he drives the familiar route towards the bridge between Paradis and Marley. The radio plays songs you’ve listened with him before, during all those little hangouts inside his room. Choruses and verses he’s demonstrated for you on his guitar, impressing you with his skills. He hums each tune happily, thumb tapping against your skin in tandem with the rhythm.

Nearly three months ago, you were in the passenger seat, that time in Reiner’s car, driving the same road, but in the opposite direction, observing the ocean blue with tears in your eyes and a broken heart. Wondering what would happen next after losing what seemed like everything to you. Because Reiner was everything to you. Was.

Now, you see your future in a clearer light. Instead of storms or perpetual rain, you envision sunshine and bright skies, filling you with warmth that has since slipped from you since your breakup. You’re no longer lost; rather, you’re wandering to something new, something different. Something wonderful. And you can’t help imagining Eren on the other side of that, welcoming you with open arms. Still, the journey isn’t over. In fact, it’s just beginning. And before you reach your destination, there’s obstacles you need to face to make it there in one piece.

Halfway into the drive, you realize where he’s taking you. It’s his little paradise he told you about before, the special beach he goes to for an escape. It’s my super-secret spot. You have to be really special to know about it. I’ll show you this one day. You’ll love it. Even then, several weeks ago, Eren invited you into his world, deeming you special enough to share it. He trusts you, is giving his all to you. And you wish your heart wasn’t so damaged still, so that you could give him the same. The love that he deserves.

He pulls into a spot right off the shore, letting go of your hand to put the car in park. “We’re here,” he announces, grinning. At the trunk, he pulls out two blankets, handing you one to carry. He leads you down weathered stairs towards an alcove hidden away from the main beach. The sand is soft against your feet, sinking in with each step. The distinct melody of waves crashing on the shore is soothing to your ears. It really is paradise, especially with Eren guiding the way, turning back occasionally to flash that winning smile at you. Eventually, he settles for a spot far enough from the shore to where the water doesn’t reach, laying the blanket flat. He sits cross-legged, focused on the view in front of him. He’s at ease, the tension from his shoulders relaxing, his sunglasses reflecting the glare of the golden hour. You take your place beside him, indulging in this sight. Their last moment together in the sun before you return to reality.

The scene is amazing, streaks of orange and pink mirrored in the shimmering blue sea. It’s too majestic to stare at directly, so you watch it rippling on the ocean surface. With the sun gradually sinking into the horizon, Eren scoots closer, nudging you. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

You rest your head on his shoulder, nodding. “It is. Thank you for taking me here.”

“I know it’s not exactly the runaway you wanted, but it’s the best I could give you,” he mentions, leaning into you.

“This is exactly what I want. To be here with you.”

The two of you sit in silence, admiring the sunset until it disappears, and the night sky takes over, like a curtain falling after the final act. You’re holding hands now, squeezing each other tight, desperate not to let go. Maybe he senses it too, the end of this tiny getaway together.

“Eren,” you start, voice trembling.

Before you can continue, he turns to kiss you on the forehead gently. “It’s okay. You can be honest with me. I can take it.”

Tears stream down your cheeks, his thumbs brushing them away as he cradles your face between his palms. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle. “I’m so sorry, Eren. I wish I could give you what you want, like what you’ve given to me. But I can’t. Not right now. I need time.”

“Then I’ll wait for you,” he urges, placing delicate kisses along the corners of your eyes, collecting your tears on his lips. “I’ll wait until you’re ready.”

You shake your head, refusing. “I won’t let you do that. There’s a whole world out there, people without baggage, without a broken heart. They’re so much better for you than I am. It’ll be so much easier than dealing with a mess like me.”

“I don’t want easier. I want you.”

“Why? Why me?”

He smiles softly. “Because you make me happy.”

You continue to cry, asking, “How can it be that simple? What if you get sick of me? What if I can’t make you happy anymore?” It’s what happened with Reiner. He decided one day that he was no longer in love with you, and in an instant, the life you built together disintegrated into a pile of dust. Remnants of precious memories wasted away into nothing. That’s what it felt like. What if the same happens with Eren? What if you weren’t meant to be loved at all?

He keeps holding your firmly in his grasp, a look of determination in his face. “There’s so many what if scenarios you can give me. I won’t pretend to know exactly what the future has in store for us. But all I know is that I’m the happiest when I’m with you. I’m not going to let something like this go just because I’m worried it might not work out in the end. If I’m going to take a leap of faith, it’s going to be for you.” He nuzzles his nose to yours, grinning. “And who’s to say that you won’t get sick of me?”

“I would never,” you reply, gazing at him through weepy eyes. “But I’m scared of becoming a failure again.”

“Having your past relationship end doesn’t mean you’re a failure. Love isn’t about winning or losing. It’s about learning and growing. Realizing how capable you are to love somebody and allowing them to love you. Isn’t that such a wonderful thing?”

You watch him, awed by his wisdom. As much as you wish it could, it’s still not enough to take the fear away from your fragile heart. After a moment of silence, listening to the gentle waves splash on the shore, Eren says, “Can I tell you something?” It’s dark now, the chill from the night air prickling your bare skin. He unfolds the second blanket, wrapping it around the both of you. You nod, huddling closer, relishing the warmth he always surrounds you in.

“I emailed my advisor. I have a meeting with him Monday morning. I’m officially going to change my major,” he announces proudly.

“Really?”

“Yeah. No more running away. I’m not scared anymore. That’s because of you.” He faces you, eyes shining like emeralds in the pitch black of evening. “You’ve given me the strength to do this. To take control of my life and make decisions for me, and not for anyone else. With you by my side, I can do anything.”

“Eren,” you whisper, chest heavy with adoration.

He presses his forehead to yours. “I wish I could take away the pain. Take whatever hurts you and make it disappear. You have no idea how special you are to me. So, I’ll wait for you, whenever you’re ready to share your heart with me. Until then, I’ll stay by your side, as your friend, as your RA, as a person who cares deeply about you. I’ll always be here for you, okay?”

You swallow hard, tears trickling down your cheeks as you kiss him, unable to express how much he means to you, letting your lips do the talking instead. It isn’t fair to love him with a broken heart; he deserves to be loved fully by someone who isn’t afraid of it. Someone who’s healed instead of damaged, steady without stumbling at every little crack in the pavement they come across. With time, you’re determined to become that somebody for him.

Eventually, you find the will to speak. “I won’t make you wait long. I promise.”

He laughs, snuggling closer to you under the blanket. “Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise.” You hook your finger around his, swaying it between you.

Eren drives back to campus with your hand in his, brushing his thumb across your skin affectionately. You part ways outside his room, kissing each other once more before stepping down the hallway to your own room. You scroll through your phone to find Reiner’s contact, determined more than ever to settle this once and for all. No more running away.

Without hesitation, you type out your message.

Reiner. I’m ready to talk.

~~~

Sunday afternoon, you and Reiner agree to meet at a café on-campus, one that the two of you frequented freshman year when you were a couple. Upon your arrival, you notice that he’s already sat at a table, waiting for you, two drinks set in front of him. You sit across from him, back straight and neck tall, twiddling your thumbs at your lap where he can’t see.

“I already ordered,” he comments, pushing the coffee cup towards you, reciting the drink name and all the specifics of how you typically like it. Proving that he hasn’t forgotten.

You take it into your hand, tipping it into your mouth. “Thank you,” you say after swallowing your sip.

There are a few beats of awkward silence before he starts speaking. “I’m sorry about the other night. I shouldn’t have ambushed you like that.”

You nod in acknowledgement, fixated on the lid of your drink cup, nervous to meet his gaze.

“I meant it, though,” he adds. “I still want to get back together.”

You take a deep breath, choosing your words carefully. “Why all of a sudden?”

He shrugs, circling the rim of his cup with his finger. “I realized how much it sucks to be alone.”

“So, by default, I’m supposed to bail you out? It doesn’t work like that, Reiner. You can’t love me only when it’s convenient for you. That’s not love. That’s selfish.” This time, you do look at him, finding the confidence in your voice.

He doesn’t speak, facing the window, averting his eyes from yours. When he doesn’t respond, you continue. “It’s hard for anyone to be alone. Imagine how I felt when you broke up with me.”

Finally, he replies, “And you’re right. I was an idiot to do that. We should have never broken up. I didn’t know it was going to be so fucked up.” He trails off at his last statement, as if he’s just realizing it himself.

“You weren’t in love with me anymore. It wouldn’t have been fair for either of us to stay in a relationship like that. And you were right: we relied on each other too much. So much that it hurt the most when we couldn’t anymore.”

Suddenly, he holds your hand, grasping it firmly. “Then let’s go back. It’ll be better this time. I’ll be better.” He’s desperate now; it shows in his pleading eyes and quivering speech. The tightness in his grip as he clings to you, frantic.

You don’t pull away from him, squeezing him in return. “I don’t want to go back. I want to move forward. I can’t keep relying only on other people. I need to rely on myself, first and foremost. Stand tall and make choices because it’s what I want to do. That’s what growing up is all about, right?”

“And you’re not scared?”

“I’m terrified. But we shouldn’t let fear prevent us from moving on and being happy. I don’t know if you and I can make each other happy anymore. I was so careful with you, to a point where I was lying to myself about being fine with the decisions you made. I guess I always felt the need to protect you. It’s been that way since we were kids. As much as we don’t want to admit it, we’re different now. Everything is different. It’ll never be like it was, no matter how hard we try to recreate it.”

He revels at your words, a glimmer of defeat in his expression, understanding that there’s nothing else he can do to change your mind. After a minute of contemplation, he ponders, “You think that it could have worked out if I didn’t break up with you?”

You don’t answer right away, delicately formulating your reply. “Somehow, we stopped communicating. I went along with whatever you said, even when I didn’t agree. And you didn’t talk to me about the fears you were having before you broke up with me. I think we were so focused on protecting each other’s feelings that we stopped being honest to one another. I think eventually, we would realize that and break up anyways.” You take another sip of your drink before asking, “Do you think it would have worked out?”

He opens his mouth, then closes it. Eventually, he replies, “I guess when you put it like that, then no.”

You keep your hand in his, because this time, it’s really the last. And it doesn’t feel dirty or wrong to do it; it feels right. Like there’s finally that understanding that you’ve been racking your brain for the last three months.

“Maybe we were better off staying friends,” he muses.

“Maybe. But I don’t ever regret loving you, Reiner.” You used to think the same thing, convinced that crossing the line from friends to lovers was the vital mistake that doomed your relationship. With Eren’s words replaying in your head, you can’t say you believe that sentiment anymore. After all, Reiner has and will always be your first love. The person who taught you how to love and to receive love in the first place. Despite it not working out for the better, nothing will replace that.

He returns your smile, still holding you. “Me neither. I’m sorry. For everything.”

Silence falls between you two once again, a comfortable one this time, full of acceptance that this is truly the end for you and Reiner. Attempting to lighten the mood, you ask, “So, are you and Christa official yet?”

He looks at you confused, then realization washes over him. “Oh, Christa! Yeah, no. Turns out her and her big in Delta Delta are super close, if you know what I mean.” He smirks, relaxing in his seat. “I never stood a chance.”

You let go of him, leaning back into your chair. “Bummer. I genuinely do think she is nice.”

“Yeah. But I’d be annoyed too if my ex was pushing us to be friends.” He clears his throat, crossing his arms over his chest. “What about that Eren guy?”

You raise a brow at him. “Really? You want to talk about him?”

“Not my finest moment, I know. But I’m still curious. Is he your boyfriend now or what?”

You shake your head. “No. I told him I need time.”

Surprised, he repeats, “Time? For what?”

“To figure myself out.”

“To figure yourself out?”

“Yeah. I don’t want to give him my shattered, fucked up heart. It’s not right.”

He continues to study you, confused. “So that’s it? You’re not even going to give him a chance?”

“He said he’ll wait for me,” you respond, belly fluttering as you recall last night on the beach.

Reiner leans forward on the table, invested. “He’s totally in love with you. If he’s willing to wait for you, he’s in it for the long haul. He’s already fallen for every piece of you, I guarantee that.”

“It’s not fair to him, though.”

“It’s not fair to yourself. He’s not asking you for a healed heart. He wants you just the way you are. Why deprive yourself from someone who’s already willing to love you like this?”

“Because I don’t want to make the same mistakes again!”

He sighs, drumming his fingers on the surface impatiently. “Look, I’m not going to sit here and act like I’m completely cool with it. But for the first time in a long time, I’m trying not to be selfish again. Don’t let our past influence your future. You told me you want to rely more on yourself, right? Then start with this. Trust your heart. Don’t run away. Go for it.”

“I can’t believe my ex is actually giving me dating advice,” you chuckle, seriously contemplating his encouragement.

“Consider this my parting gift to you. As your ex and as your former best friend. I want you to be happy. And if this guy makes you happy, why wait? If it means anything to you, just know I’ll be rooting for you, whatever you decide.”

You grin. “It does mean something. Thank you, Reiner.” You no longer see him as an obstacle standing in your way. Instead, he’s on the sidelines, supporting you. Rooting for you. It took three months of suffocating to surface. And now, you’re free. “Anyways, I should go. I have a lot to think about.”

He nods, remaining seated. “Yeah.”

You’re ready to walk to the exit when he calls out to you. “Coco?”

You turn to face him, heart thumping at the familiar nickname. The youthful twinkle in his eyes returns in an instant and all your childhood memories flash before you in hyperdrive, glimpses of your past life together. Laughing so hard that you’re clutching your bellies until you’re doubled over on his bed. Hidden under homemade forts built out of pillows and cushions, shining flashlights underneath your chins, creating hand puppets with shadows on the walls. Late night drives with the windows rolled all the way down, blasting music and singing at the top of your lungs as he speeds through the highway. Splitting milkshakes at the diner, blowing out candles on birthday cakes. Endless nights spent in each other’s arms, listening to his steady heartbeat. First kisses, first times, last summer and goodbyes. Three months ago, you would have done anything to go back. Now, you’re ready to move on. The final hit of nostalgia before you go.

He smiles at you knowingly, as if he’s watching the same scenes of your lives play out in his head. “Nothing. I just wanted to say that one last time.”

~~~

Eren is in his room, sitting on the floor, strumming the strings on his guitar randomly, not playing any particular tune. He recalls the events of last night, laying it all out on the table, confessing his feelings, revealing his vulnerabilities. He won’t pressure her to rush into this, knowing she’s still processing and healing from her trauma. Her thinking about him is enough. Until the day comes when they can both love each other fully, he’ll wait patiently.

There’s a knock on his door. He isn’t suspecting company, so he assumes it’s one of his residents here to report a problem. When he opens it, he’s shocked to see her in front of him, staring at him nervously.

“I told you I wouldn’t make you wait long,” she says, stepping towards him.

His chest is heavy, fluttering incessantly, and all he can do is laugh, closing the distance between them by wrapping his arms around her. “It’s been the longest day ever, actually. You have no idea how happy I am to see you.”

She snuggles her face into his chest. “Me too. I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, though.”

He kisses the top of her head, smiling. “Tell me.”

“I can get very insecure and very anxious, so you’ll have to deal with that.”

“Okay. I can handle that,” he answers, inhaling her scent through his nostrils, filling his lungs with as much of her essence as possible.

“I want to talk about everything with you. I want us to be completely honest with each other all the time.”

Nodding, he responds, “I want that too. I want that too, sweetie.” He hugs her tighter, never wanting to let go.

“Also, sometimes I hog the blanket. But I don’t do it on purpose, I swear. I can’t control what my body does while I sleep.” She clings to him, peering up at him with the sweetest expression.

He nuzzles her nose to hers, joking, “Ah, well, I don’t think this is going to work out then.”

She glares at him playfully, pouting her lips. “That’s your dealbreaker?”

“Well, I guess I can make an exception. For you,” he teases, kissing her.

It began with an ending, and it ends with a new beginning. One journey closes, and another begins. It may not be easy, but what wonderful, magical adventure ever is? It’s the detours and bumps along the way that make it memorable, make it worthwhile. And with her by his side, and him by hers, Eren’s confident that they’ll get through anything. Together.

@batafuraikisu @bloompompom @monirei @filunara @katestrophes @ichinosejager13 @hoperenae @zellskz @e-ayyy @liliorsstuff-blog @maliakealoha @holdmeclosebutdontloveme @chrollohearttags @sailorputa @squickkk @dnyllmh @hellomeow12 @s-cream-ing @potofstewie @conniesbbymama @erzascarlett28 @lem-hhn @roronoazorosbxtchh @ichigostrawberry15 @rhaelrence @lilshades @bigmoodyjoody @icansmellsouls @aangsupremacy @ashsauroras @bakuhoes-bxtch @si-kamo @jmtherula @imaddicted-b @monkemanjeager @neesiewrote @large-juice @chiinni @belovedackerman

#eren x reader #eren jaeger #eren x f!reader #eren x you #eren x y/n #eren jaeger x reader #eren fluff #eren aot #aot fluff #reiner x reader #reiner x f!reader #reiner braun #give you blue series #give you blue #eren smut

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tatoda · 2 years

Text

Lovin || conrad fisher x fem!reader

!!MINORS DNI!!

summary: you’re dragged to a party by jeremiah and a boy gets a little close to you and conrad isn’t happy about it.

pairing: conrad fisher x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT, piv, cow girl, dude doesn’t take a hint, party crowd, conrad being a cutie CHARACTERS ARE 18

wc: 2,200+

hopefully this is okay i was super distracted because i was in LA all week at vidcon and didn’t get much time to write

masterlist

request! @gillybear17

Tonight was supposed to be just you, a book in your hands by the poolside listening to the soft crashing of the waves. But that all ended when Jeremiah threw you over his shoulder and into his jeep to head down to the beach for a bonfire party. No matter how many times you told him he interrupted you in one of the most intense smut scenes you were reading he would just gag and ignore you.

“you’re such an asshole, Jere.” you huffed crossing your arms in the passenger seat as he slid into the driver's side sending you one of his death-giving grins

“I'm just trying to get you” he poked your nose “out of the house.” he backed the car out of the driveway and started down the street

“you interrupted a very intense chapter in my book.” you said looking out the window at the passing trees and waited for the times when the space would open to see the sunset

“y/n, I love you, but maybe you should try getting some instead of reading it.” he chuckled and glanced at you

“Jere?” you turned towards him and his eyebrows raised to let you know he was listening “respectfully, fuck you.”

“I mean we can if you want.” you hit him immediately on the arm and he hissed “damn, maybe save that for the bedroom.”

“Just shut up and drive.” you sunk back into your seat

You always thought about when you were going to find someone that could give you everything you needed in sex. The books always made it seem like some prince charming was going to treat you the best and know everything about your places. Your past boyfriends never made you comfortable enough to do anything with them. You were closest to the Fisher’s boys and the Conklin’s were your siblings. Belly gave you some advice about your situation but nothing too exciting. But this summer was different. You were told you had grown but that was just a pre-breakup beauty. You never tried to go for boys you wanted them to come to you. But this summer, Conrad always had his eyes on you. No matter what went on. But he didn’t talk a lot this summer, he just looked at you.

“and we’re here.” Jeremiah pulled up to a parking spot and you both unbuckled and got out of the car. you followed him saying, “I’ll stay with you.” walking down the beach to the bonfire and noticed many teens drinking and smoking around you, wonderful.

“Jeremiah!” a group of girls yelled and his head never turned faster, he smiled as they waved him over

“i-i will be right back.” he took off and you sighed

“so much for staying with me,” you mutter walking over to a cooler and grabbing water not feeling like drinking tonight, you don’t want to hangout nor the throw up

Slowing making your way towards the smaller fire where no one is you passed by a familiar colored hoodie, Conrad. he was sitting next to a girl with a bright smile on his face as she leaned into him, practically kissing him. He felt a presence as his eyes moved from her to you and his smile dropped, his mouth parted but you walked away before he could say anything. Standing around the flames, a figure walked up to you. You wished it was going to be Conrad but this person was much taller.

“uh, hi. I saw you walk in and I thought you were absolutely hot in that dress.” you cringed at his word choice “I'm Neal.” he put his hand out

“im-“ he stopped you, men.

“y/n, you’re family friends with the Fisher boys.” your eyebrows furrowed

“uh, yeah that’s me.” you questioned. Nothing really caught your attention to this guy so you both stood there awkwardly staring at the fire before he spoke up again a minute later.

“do you want to get out of here?” he moved closer to you. As you looked around for maybe some help and your eyes instantly met Conrad's and he knew something was up

“I don’t think so, I just got here.” you tried to laugh it off but he moved closer to stand in front of you

“I promise it will be worth your time.” you can now smell his beer breath

“I’m okay. it was nice meeting you.” you tried to walk away but he grabbed your arm

“What is wrong with you?” fear spread throughout you

“i-“ you couldn’t finish as the familiar voice rang through the air

“she said no, dick.” Conrad moved you behind him so he could separate you and neal

“damn Conrad you really had to ruin my chances.” neal smirked “she is smoking hot tonight I was thinking about what’s under that dre-“ before he could finish Conrad punched him and Neal fell to the ground groaning

“Get your hands off of my girl.” you paused as the words came out of his mouth, but it didn’t faze Conrad as he turned towards you “I’m taking you home.” not complaining as he took your hand as many eyes watched y’all as you walked across the sand “I need the keys from Jeremiah.” you both walked towards him seeing he was making out with one of the girls from earlier “Jeremiah keys.” Jeremiah didn’t unlatch from the girl and dug into his pocket and tossed the keys to Conrad

The walk to the car was silent, Conrad opened the door for you, muttering a small thank you to him. He started the car but didn’t move it as you both sat in the silence.

“I’m sorry.” he breathed out looking towards you before starting the car not waiting for a response from you and pulled out of the parking lot heading home.

The car made its noises as it went down the road. Conrad would look at you every minute to make sure you were okay. You picked at your fingernails and didn’t look at him but you could see that he was looking at you over and over. The overwhelming feeling of how much he cared for you.

“can you pull over,” you spoke out and Conrad looked at you worriedly and looked around before pulling over and parking the car, you unbuckled your seatbelt and faced him and he did the same.

“thank you.” he sighed feeling the pressure you were going to yell at him “but please don’t get into fights for me.” he chuckled shaking his head “con, what happened back there?”

“what do you mean? you obviously didn’t want him to talk to you anymore. I saw you looking around. I knew you were in trouble.” he looked into your eyes “I know when you need me.” he inched closer looking from your lips and back to your eyes

“I always need you Conrad.” as those words left your mouth he closed the distance between the two of you.

His lips were covered by mint chapstick that he put on recently as the air has been acting up. You moved to scoot up more towards the center console. One of his hands moved to the back of your head and deepened the kiss. You never thought this would happen. You were kissing Conrad fisher. A boy you dreamt about when you were 8 as you both played house together and he kissed you acting as if the both of you were married. Conrad sighed into your mouth and pulled away.

“fuck, steven is going to kill me.” your noses were touching as he looked into your eyes

“I’m older so screw him.” you grabbed his neck and brought him back to your lips. Conrad's hands didn’t know where to go as he was freaking out this was happening. you led away from him “Conrad.”

“sorry I want to make sure you’re okay with where I place my hands.” his cheeks turned pink

“can I help you.” he nodded and you moved his hand to rest on your chest. Conrad froze and held in a breath and he moved the other to your hair again

Your lips connected again and he seemed to get more into it. the hand on your chest moved to massage your breast and you could feel your nipple harden under his touch. You felt that you needed to be closer so you moved away from him and climbed over to his side and on his lap. He was frozen the whole time watching you with awe.

“Conrad.” his eyes connected with yours and you moved some of his messy hair behind his ear

“Yeah?” you could feel the indent in his pants as you shifted on top of him

“Are you okay with this?” you questioned him, making sure this was the right decision between the two of you

“I've only dreamt of this for like, ever.” he bit his lip and you moved your hand to take the lip out of his mouth and leaned back into him. this time y’all were more into it. you reached under his shirt and to the waistband of his shorts and he pulled away softly “here?”

“unless you want to drive all the way home?” he swallowed

“we’re just down the street- I want to make this perfect for us.” you smiled

“Okay, take me home Conrad.” you tried to move back to your seat but he held you there

“Just stay, we’re almost there.” you cuddled into him and put your head in the crook of his neck so he could see the road and quickly put the car in drive and took off “I love the whole public scene but we can do that later.” you hummed into him feeling at home with him this close to you. Conrad let out a chuckle before placing a hand on the small of your back and started rubbing circles

As you pulled up to the house he turned off the car and wrapped your legs around his waist and carefully took you out of the car. The front door was unlocked as the moms were out on a small night walk. Conrad carried you to his room and placed you on his bed. He stood at the end of the bed looking at your beautiful body before slipping off his sweatshirt and shirt leaving him in his shorts. He moved above you and your lips connected again.

“fuck, sorry I really can’t do the foreplay right now. I need you, y/n,” he whispered into your lips

“you have me.” you kissed him again and you both sat up to take off your clothes. he looked at you like you had 3 eyes “you’re beautiful. stay here I need a condom.” he ran off to his bathroom and you took off the rest of your clothing. when he came back into the room and he paused and sighed before smiling at you. “you ready?” you nodded and he slipped off the rest of his clothing and slipped the condom on.

“can i-i um, go on top?” his eyebrows raised

“fuck that’s even hotter. yes, of course.” the both of you moved and he sat against his headboard as you crawled and hovered over his lap

“ready?” he only looked at you and kissed you signaling for you to go. you lined him up with your entrance and sunk down on him

“shit.” you both sighed and he started kissing down your neck “go.” you started moving up a little and back down on him and he let out a gran

His hands grabbed your hips and he started to move you faster on him. he threw his head back and that made you want to cum right there and then. Conrad moaned out your name as you bounced on top of him. you would never believe that you would be here right now with him, doing this in his room.

“I’ve always thought about this.” he lifted his head making eye contact with you. you laughed leaning down to kiss him softly on his lips he took one of his hands to softly rub your clit to make you reach your high faster as he felt his high coming up from just how much he needed this moment to happen “just a few more minutes i can’t hold it longer you’re so beautiful.” you molded into him as his dick hit a spot inside of you making you clench around him “shit if you keep doing that I’ll cum sooner.” you smirked and did it again and Conrad rubbed your clit harder “fuck.”

You felt him twitch inside of you. he moaned loudly cumming into the condom inside of you and you follows right after him cumming on his cock. you both felt exhausted from the day. Conrad moved you off of him and next to you both before getting off the bed and into his bathroom. you sighed looking at his sailing trophies smiling at them and how you always gave him a good luck hug every time he was about to take off in the water

“what are you smiling about?” his voice took you out of your train of thought as he walked back to you with a damp washcloth and crawled back into bed with you softly wiping you down calming you down even more

“just your trophies.” you hummed “I loved watching you compete.” he smiled at you leaning into your body

“I only could get up in the mornings because of you.” he admitted “I loved it,” he paused “I love you.” you felt your heart jump and you wrapped your arms around his neck and taking in his scent

“I love you,” you muttered into his ear and you could feel his grin spread across your shoulder where his face was. you spent some time in silence before he spoke back up

“maybe someday we can do what you read in your books.” you moved back quickly looking to see if he was serious. and he was.

#conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher x fem!reader #conrad fisher one shot #conrad fisher x reader #the summer i turned pretty #tsitp #tsitp fanfic #conrad fisher smut

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xsleepinggoodx · 8 days

Text

Ｓｔａｙ　ｗｉｔｈ　ｍｅ　ｆｏｒｅｖｅｒ　グ横ズ亜

Content: Chapter 223, Kantou manji arc, Flashback where before Draken dies in the beach, Mikey and you are talking alone together.

WARNINGS: Fluff, a bit of angst becuase y’all know the context behind this flashback😭, Mikey is in love with you since you were little, Mikey loves reader, reader is oblivious to it😝 , Mikey sort of confesses(?)

AN: I was rereading Tokyo revengers because I just love it so much and this scene was literally so beautiful. Like imagine being with Mikey watching the sunrise. I wish he was real bruh I would’ve married him LMAO.

Also your interest here is astrology so imagine you brought a microscope, and other astrology things because you’re smart. I LOVE SMART WOMEN BRUH THEYRE SO HOT AND THATS YOU😍😍😍

Enjoy cuties~

I highly recommend listening to these songs as you’re reading, made me tear up a little😢

The last flashback Draken remembered was on January 1st, 2005. Toman’s founding members with the addition to Angry and Smiley with Chifuyu and Pey-Yan, and of course you, was riding their bikes to the beach, yelling at each other their excitement. Of course you were right behind Mikey, holding onto the seat, too shy to hold onto his waist but he’s wishing you’d just hold a hand on him. You had a heavy backpack filled with your bendable microscope, notebooks, maps, etc. you were the one who suggested this since you had such a passion for the stars.

TINY FLASHBACK

“We should watch the stars and sunrise before the the new year! It’d be so pretty, I’ll bring my stuff so we can watch the stars.” You beamed to Mikey as he was sucking on his usual teriyaki. “Ooh! Sounds fun. Where?” He said tilting his head. “The beach! I heard the sky will be really clear, and the sunrise is gonna be bright, it’d be so pretty.” You said filling your cup of water. “Toman would really enjoy it!” You smiled innocently, he pouted thinking it was just gonna be the two of you. “Oh. Sure, sure~” He said continuing to pout.

END OF FLASHBACK

“Baji!! How did the Olympus incident go?!” Draken yelled through all the harsh, loud sounds of the motor bikes speeding up.

“Those punks were just the first squad, so we beat them up easily!” Baji said, pretending he wasn’t proud of himself.

They were talking amongst themselves on their bikes, while you and Mikey had your own conversation.

“Wow, it’s chillier than I’d thought it’d be, and I brought multiple blankets and layers.” You said, holding back your shaking, keeping your hair from blowing all over the place.”

“Sounds like you need more body heat..” Mikey said, he knew what he was doing. “I have a jacket in my backpack but it’s too dangerous to take it out..” you said looking over his shoulder.

“Hold on to me then…” he finally bursted out. Shutting his mouth before he said anything else. You slightly flushed, feeling a bit giddy holding on to him. He was always physically affectionate but you were never the one to initiate it. “Oh..yeah sure.” You shyly said, holding onto his shoulder. Mikey had to stop himself from rolling his eyes teasingly.

“Silly girl, you’re not gonna get any warmth like that. Don’t be all shy now~” he teased, smiling.

“W-well I thought it would be uncomfortable for you! Since your driving and all!” You panicked. He let out a hearty laugh. “Just do it, [Name]!”

You gulped before finally wrapping your arms around his waist, he felt shivers down his spine, but not from the crisp, cold air blowing through your faces. Dammit [Name] you’re so…oblivious! He thought.

—————————————————————————————————-

You guys parked your bikes and walked to the shore of the beach, you flattened a large fluffy blanket on the ground, preparing your microscope. The others were laughing and running. Obviously getting adrenaline from the scene in front of them. Who wouldn’t? The air was crisp, the wind slightly blowing, the moon was shining bright, slowly going down. It wasn’t snowy but it sure was cold, you spotted Mikey heading to the edge of the bridge and tilted your head in confusion. -I wonder what he’s thinking about- You thought.

“Of course you brought your microscope, you damn dork.” A raspy low voice startled you. Turning around you saw Baji smirking, sitting down with Chifuyu next to him. “Of course I did! I told you I was gonna bring it.” You puffed, he laughed while Chifuyu was looking at your notes. “Damn [Name], are you ever gonna major in Astronomy? These are some intelligent notes.” Chifuyu praised and you smiled.

“No, it’s just a hobby for me. Making something I enjoy so much into work would be so depressing.” You laughed. He nodded, agreeing. Mitsuya, Pah-chin, and Pey-yan joined looking at your notes as well, making fun of each other saying that they’d never be able to be as knowledgeable as you were. Draken praised at how you were always the brains of the group and you laughed, enjoying this moment. This was definitely gonna be a core memory for you.

You looked at Mikey at the bridge, -he’s been there for a long time- you thought. You got up, patting your clothes. “I’ll be right back guys, they nodded, still talking among themselves. You walked to where Mikey was. The wind was blowing through his tied half up hair, the last moments of the moonlight shining on him, making him look majestic. You smiled as you inched closer to him.

“It’s pretty right? I knew you’d like it~” you said proudly, crossing your arms with your chin up in the air. He chuckled as looked over at you. Moments like this made you feel so attached to Mikey, and likewise to him. You’ve guys known each other since you were young, way before Emma joined his family. You were the only person who understood him, who he could be vulnerable to, who he could always count on. When his mom died, you were the first person he ran to, he didn’t want to cry, but you had this effect on people where they could be open to you. Your warm heart touching many people, your ambitions, your sense of understanding in peoples feelings and thoughts. It’s what attracted him the most. When Shinichiro died, the same thing, you hugged him, as he sobbed to your neck. You felt so terrible for him. Why was so many awful things happen to such a good kid? You always saw stories about how bad things happen to the best people. Mikey was another victim.

Something in his heart was telling him to tell you everything about how he feels about you.

“..[Name]…” he started, it was too late to stop himself now.

“Hmm?” You softly replied. Still admiring last bit of the moonlight.

“No matter what happens, with Toman or anything else, you’ll be with me forever right?”

You looked at him finally, and found he was already staring at you. He was admiring you while you were admiring the moon. You flushed lightly, feeling shy under his gaze but unable to look away. “Of course I will. I’m willing to be with you through every trial in your life. Like always.” You smiled lovingly. His dark onyx staring into yours, you could almost see your reflection in them. His eyes shined brightly at your answer

“Then please stay with me…….forever, okay? Don’t leave me.” He said. You smiled and shook your head. “I’m not gonna go anywhere, Mikey…”

He smiled as the sun rose, the light shining on both you and Mikey as he admired your beauty.

“Oh shoot, I brought my stuff all for nothing!!” You pouted as Mikey laughed.

“Aww poor [Nickname]~~” he teased as you puffed. He smiled at your pouting face, cooing at how cute you were.

“Next time, we’ll go again. Just the two of us.” he smiled at you, a loving look in your eyes. People cool assume you guys were lovers from how he was looking at you.

You smiled yourself, looking at the sunrise. The two of you watching it together.

……

Draken smiled, remembering the moment before closing his eyes, death blurring his vision, thinking of walking with Emma. He just wished Mikey came back. It probably would have stopped you from leaving..

————————————————————————————————

Sorry the ending is sad😊 don’t copy, translate, or repost my work please😘

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers mikey #manjiro sano #manjiro sano x reader #mikey sano #mikey x reader #mikey x y/n #manjiro sano x y/n #SoundCloud

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coconutcordiale · 2 years

Note

Congrats on the 500 followers, m’dear!!!

For the drabble request bingo, am I going to be totally predictable and ask for “please daddy?” with Jake? I think I am.

here's the thing

pairing- hangman x female!reader (no y/n)

warnings- 18+ minors & glen you know the drill DNI, sexual content (daddy kink, public teasing / fingering), jake's perspective, man's always horny it’s cruel to leave the hotel room with him on vacation, my ridiculous habit of writing ending lines that make it seem like there's another scene coming

length- 1.2k because i apparently don't know what a drabble is and hangman’s so hot he deserves more words anyways

an- thank you so much lovely!!!! the fact that i basically sprinted to write this as soon as i saw your ask because i am also predictable 🤝 (great minds) sorry i got kind of carried away but your sugar daddy jake fic look away (everyone go read!) gave me lots of hangman + swimsuits + vacation + public indecency thots

also hangman's utter inability to keep his shit together when called daddy casually is inspired by this post from @sebsxphia

Here’s the thing.

Jake is starting to think you don't fully understand the effect you have on him. That you honestly don't know what you look like every time his gaze inevitably slides over to you, reclining blissfully in a padded lounge chair, nose buried in a book. That you don't realize how many times he's had to adjust his swim trunks or go jump in the ocean because you look like absolute sin laid out next to him, soft skin on display and begging to be touched.

“Jake, do you mind getting me another drink?" You ask, turning onto your stomach and reaching back to release the neat little bow holding your swimsuit top together.

He can’t help it when a groan rumbles out of him at the clear indication you have no intention to leave anytime soon. Can't help the way his eyes flicker around the quiet beach, trying to calculate the likelihood of someone calling the cops on him for taking you right then and there.

“Honey, I just sat down, why didn’t you ask earlier when I went to the bar?” He thinks he might sound like a whiny child, but he doesn’t care much at this point. He's frustrated, because his hands are constantly flexing with the need to touch you. Because every hint to go back upstairs to your hotel room has been met with a breezy, okay babe I'll meet you up there later, want to finish this chapter.

A blonde eyebrow raises as he watches you smile guiltlessly. “I forgot, I’m sorry. Besides, you seem a little bored over there."

He shoots you a withering glare, but he's pretty sure the scornful effect is greatly diminished by the fact that his eyes can’t stop roaming over your bare back.

Obviously he’s going to get the drink for you. He just likes seeing you sweat a little bit. Serves you right, since you've been torturing him for hours down here.

(It's been 45 minutes)

You sigh and Jake can see the gears turning in your head. Your fingers wiggle around your book, like they're getting ready to reach behind and retie your bikini so you can get up to grab it yourself. He's about to laugh, about to say just kidding, of course I'll go get it for you, when you bite your lip.

The hair on his arms raises in anticipation, knowing what's coming from your mouth next is surely going to fuck with him.

“Please, daddy?”

Jake stills.

You think it’s cute, that you’re being sassy, just teasing him a little.

That’s the thing.

Sometimes, Jake thinks you don't realize how little effort it takes to have him aching for you. You don’t see that watching your pretty lips form those words sends electricity thrumming through his veins. That it makes him vibrate with the need to hold you down until that's the only word you're capable of forming.

His tongue flits out to wet his lips, eyes never leaving you. Takes a steadying breath.

"Sure, honey. I'll be right back."

When he returns with your Mai Tai he swears your bikini is riding a little higher, cheeky bottoms giving him a perfect view of your backside. He's practically salivating with the urge to lean down and put his mouth on you.

"Thanks, daddy." You're full-on smirking now, dropping any pretense of not taunting him.

Jake exhales audibly as a lightning bolt zaps through him. The hold he has on his phone tightens once with a fleeting thought about trying not to break the stupid thing, before he forces himself to let go and toss it onto your beach bag.

He reaches over to you, rubbing your shoulder affectionately, runs his large hand down your side. Your hardcover drops to the chair with an unceremonious thump when the pad of his thumb brushes right against the side of your breast, exposed by your untied top.

You eye him mock suspiciously, taking a dainty sip of your cocktail. "Jakey, whatcha doing?"

"Oh it's Jakey now, is it, princess?" He tuts, gaze focused on the shapes he's tracing on your skin. "No more daddy now that you've gotten what you wanted?"

He skims his hand across the edge of your bikini bottoms, dancing dangerously close to where he suspects you're already soaked for him.

"Daddy," you whisper, sunglasses sliding down your nose as you dip your head, giving him full view of your blown pupils.

“Wanna stop me, princess?” He asks, trailing fingers down your hot skin, playing with the ties holding your bottoms together. “Or are you gonna let daddy play with his pretty pussy right here, where anyone could see?”

There's no one within his eyesight, but he doesn't mention that part.

You bury your head in your arms, seemingly embarrassed, but Jake doesn’t miss the tilt of your hips, the subtle arch of your back, pushing your ass ever so slightly into his waiting hand.

"That's what I thought," he quips, trademark Hangman confidence dripping from every word.

With one last glance around and a squeeze to your cheek, he slips his fingers under, groaning quietly at the wetness he knew would be there. He pushes a finger in, quick and dirty, because there might not be anyone around right now, but you both know that could change at any second.

The breathy little whimper that escapes as you squirm around his finger is music to his ears. His cock throbs painfully in his swimsuit in response and he shakes his head to clear it, forcing himself not to get sidetracked. But the dirty look you send him when he pulls his finger out, using your arousal slicked on his finger to help stroke figure eights on your clit, is even better. He knows you can come like this, but a part of you will be disappointed having to come clenching around nothing.

Perfect, he muses, because the sooner you're begging for daddy's cock to fill you, the better.

He switches his onslaught on your center to pressing strong, decisive circles, your hips rutting against his hand that's trapped between you and the chair. It's one of the hottest things he's ever witnessed, you taking what you need, hips moving unprompted and a little wild as you get closer and closer to the edge.

Jake grins as your legs tense, watching your climax roll through you. You bite your arm to muffle your whimpers, ice cubes rattling in your cup as you shake, riding out the high.

He has to stifle a groan of his own when he raises his hand to his mouth to clean his fingers, the taste of you going straight to his aching cock.

Smiling happily at him, you look almost grateful, like you might thank him for making you come in broad daylight with waves crashing in the background. Like it wouldn’t occur to you that it should be the other way around, him worshipping at your feet for letting him run away with his dirty thoughts on a chaise lounge by the ocean.

That's the thing.

Jake knows you don't realize how much power you hold over him, how effortlessly you have him wrapped around your finger. You'll figure it out someday, but for right now he'll keep that secret to himself.

At the moment, he has much more pressing matters, like getting you alone so he can listen to your pretty voice moan please, daddy over and over again.

"Finish your drink, princess. We're going upstairs."

#hangman x reader #hangman x you #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin #hangman top gun #hangman drabble #jake seresin drabble #hangman smut #jake seresin smut #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine #hangman imagine #top gun hangman #500 followers celly

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written-in-flowers · 1 year

Text

Fly Away: Part 2

Pairing: Young!Aemond x Young!Velaryon!Reader | Side pairing: Rhaenyra x Alicent

Genre: Fluff, AngstAu: friends to lovers, childhood love, incest (duh), slight homophobia expressed, repressed feelings, mutual pining, teenage runaways, mentions of bullying, arrange marriages

Word Count: 4k

Summary: Young love overcomes all in a family full of broken bonds and broken hearts. When Princess Y/N Velaryon and Prince Aemond Targaryen are discovered missing from their beds, their mothers must come together to find them. The search might do more for their families than a mere marriage pact can.

A/N: want to clarify now that we stick with young!Aemond throughout the story. Ewan’s Aemond comes in at the very end. This is mainly done starting a bit before The Princess and the Queen and a little bit after the events at Driftmark. I do pull some scenes from the show, but it remains relatively loose throughout. Want to also point out that The Dance doesn’t happen in this universe, so…happy ending expected, because we need more of those.

Tagged: @yitish, @imjustboredso @dangerousbluebirdpoetry @discowizard88 @mddieeunson @nitimurinvetitumsposts

Previous Chapter < Part 1 | Next Chapter > Part 3

A few months later…

You felt bad for Baela and Rhaena. Your cousins who’d lost their mother after her childbirth complications. They not only lost a mother, but a sibling. You hoped to never understand or feel that pain. You stood on the rocky side of Driftmark with the rest of the funeral guests as they lowered her body into the ocean. You stared out into the waves as your Uncle Vaemond gave an emotional eulogy. You’d only met Lady Laena a handful of times because she lived so far away, but your father spoke highly of her. Baela and Rhaena looked a lot like her with thick silver locs and darkened skin. They had true Velaryon blood, some people said, unlike your brothers. You felt guilty for wanting the ceremony to end quickly, since you are laying someone to rest, but you couldn’t help glancing at the person a few feet away.

Aemond hadn’t changed much in the months since you left King’s Landing. Not that you expected him to. You had not been away very long. Yet, it felt nice seeing him again. You’d both exchanged letters since you left. Every letter read of good tidings, good news, and anecdotes from each other’s lives. He’d told you all about Helaena’s betrothal to Aegon; you told him about the time Joffrey threw up on Jace. You tried not asking him if he had a dragon, though he willingly lamented about it from time to time in his letters. After months of Aemond on paper, it felt relieving to see him in person.

As Laena’s coffin sank into the water, you turned to where Aemond stood with his family. You both grinned at one another softly; two happy people in a group of mourners. You wished to go to him right then. You thought of hugging him like you’d done the last time you saw him, but what if he didn’t like that?

The ceremony ended and everyone went to a patio nearby overlooking the oceans. You liked coming to Driftmark. You enjoyed the chilly breezes that went through the stone halls, the smell of the sea lingering in every gust. The waves that crashed on the rocks left their mark on the black rocks in salt and seafoam. You noticed the lack of ships on the horizon. The last time you’d been there, you’d seen loads of them off in the distance. Following your mother to the party, you found dozens of people already there. You noticed them all stare at your mother as she appeared. Their staring is the whole reason you left King’s Landing. You thought they’d have the decency to be discrete.

Your mother and you found Jace standing by himself in a corner near the railing. “Have you seen your father?” she asked him.

“No,” he shook his head, “Last I saw him, he was going onto the beach.”

You noticed the sad look in your brother’s eyes. The news had come to you by raven a few weeks ago: Ser Harwin Strong died in a fire at Harrenhal along with his father, Lionel. Your mother cried for days in her room, refusing to eat anything unless you came and fed it to her. Luke did not fully understand what was wrong, and you thought it best to lie to him and say Mother grieved over her close friend. Jace, however, did understand. He didn’t play as many pranks on you. He didn’t laugh as much or join you and Luke in your lessons or games. You touched his shoulder. He might annoy you some days, but he was your brother. Half-brother, but your brother nevertheless.

“Your little cousins have just lost their mother,” your mother said to you both, “They can use some kind words of sympathy.”

“I have an equal claim to sympathy,” Jace replied harshly. “We should be at Harrenhal mourning Ser Harwin and Lord Lionel.”

Your mother tried shushing him before anyone overheard him. She told him it wouldn’t be appropriate to do so. “Now, go give your condolences to your cousins,” she said, kissing both your heads and walking away.

Once out of earshot, you spoke to him, “I’m sorry about it.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry about it,” you repeated. “Ser Harwin was a good man who cared a lot about you and Luke.”

“I miss him.”

“I know.”

You hugged him, hearing him sniffle softly against your shoulder. There was not much to say in front of people, but seeing Jace upset brought you softness in you. “Don’t let this deviate from the fact that I still think you’re a brat,” you teased, hoping it’d bring out a laugh in him.

He released you, and gave you the response you wanted. “And I still think you’re a big baby.”

You punched his shoulder lightly, laughing, and then guided him through the party. You saw no sign of Aemond, which saddened you. Perhaps he hadn’t arrived yet, even though you spotted The Queen and Ser Criston together. You reached Baela and Rhaena, twin girls whose heads lifted when you approached. Tears streaked down their cheeks, the pain of loss on their faces in full view. You and Jace stood in front of them. Every possible word felt wrong to say. It did not feel like enough, but you wished to comfort them.

“We…My brother and I are…”

Baela reached for your hand, and Rhaena grabbed Jace’s hand. The simple touch brought warmth and comfort at such a sad occasion. You did not know how you’d feel if you ever lost your mother or brothers.

“We’re sorry for your loss,” you said, and Jace agreed.

“Thank you,” Baela sniffed. “It is good to see you, Cousin, after so much time. We’ve missed you.”

“And I you,” you gave a small smile. “Maybe sometime soon your father may visit my mother on Dragonstone. We live there now. I think it’s…it’s best if you’re with family.”

“I agree.”

Your grandmother appeared. Princess Rhaenys was your father’s mother, a confident woman with brown eyes and silver hair. Jace turned away to a brazier nearby for warmth, but she looked at you.

“Gods, how you’ve grown,” she smiled, sadness still on her face. She touched your jawline, “You’re looking more and more like your father every day. Not a smidge of your mother there.”

“Thank you, Grandmother.”

She bent down to look at Baela and Rhaena, and you took it as your cue to leave. Giving Baela’s hand one more soft squeeze, you walked away back into the party. A passing serving girl offered you a cup of wine, which you took politely. You didn’t drink wine very often. Your parents let you have one on special occasions, but never freely. Tentatively, you gave the fruity wine a sip, gagged at the sharpness of it, then put it down on a table. How people became addicted to it, you did not know. You searched for Aemond. He might be with Aegon or Helaena, so you kept your eyes open for them.

"Well, well, look at you." It was Aegon, holding a wine cup and grinning at you. "How you've grown into such a," he leaned into you, wine thick on his breath, "Lovely maiden."

"Hello, Uncle," you said, sipping your own wine. "I hope you've been well."

"Very well now that I'm talking to the most gorgeous woman in this room," he slid over to you on the railing, smiling still. His blond silver hair was a long tangled mess, and he stood tall and lanky. Nothing like Aemond, short and skinny. "You know…if my brother is ever unable to perform his marital duties," he chuckled, "I wouldn't mind doing the honors."

“I wonder how long you can go without saying a crude remark, Uncle,” you replied. “It must not be long.” You gazed around the room again, “Have you seen Aemond?”

“Probably sulking somewhere. I swear, I don’t know how you can stand his company. He’s so boring,” he then smirked, “You should come with me. I’ll show you a good time.”

You scoffed and made an excuse to leave, but that didn't mean he wasn't watching. More people (specifically men) made comments about your sudden emergence into puberty and beauty, charmed by your looks and envying Aemond for being your betrothed. Finally, you found him by the staircase leading onto the beach. He stood up straight when you approached him, and you smiled brightly at him.

“I’ve been looking for you,” you said, “I was worried you’d gone to bed.”

“I saw you with your cousins,” he replied, “And I did not wish to interrupt you.” He gave you a look over, seeing you in your black gown and cloak. "I missed you," he said. "Watching the ships hasn't been the same since you left. I thought we might do it here, but…" he looked to the empty ocean, "I hope you've been well."

"I have. I got your last letter," you smiled shyly, "I really liked your poem."

"Thank you."

"Do I really remind you of flowers?"

"Um, yes, they do."

"Isn't my brother an absolute romantic?" Aegon approached, throwing his arm around Aemond’s shoulders. "He's always been a big, sappy boy."

"Go away, Aegon," Aemond glared.

"What? I only wanted to spend time with my brother and his very pretty friend," Aegon smirked.

"Come on, Y/N," Aemond took your hand. "We'll take the stairs. Aegon can't go down after a few cups."

"I can walk down stairs," Aegon retorted.

Aemond proved this false right away. Leading you down the stone steps, you both giggled watching Aegon clutch the railing while navigating the stairs. By the time you'd reached the bottom, he'd slumped down the middle landing and finished his newest cup. It made you pity him.

On the sandy beach, you noticed the sky starting to grow darker. The setting sun turned the sky shades of dark blue fading into orange. Winds blowing in from the sea became colder, and you hugged your cloak around you. Suddenly, you realized you both stood alone outside the party. You knew you shouldn't be alone; it was improper. Surely, your mother or septa will come looking for you soon, and you didn't want them interrupting.

"It's cold today," he then said.

"Yes, it is."

He nodded. You continued looking at him. You both got along so well back in King’s Landing. You thought seeing him again might be like no time passed at all, but the awkwardness set in. Your eyes stared at the sea ahead of you. It stretched far and wide, undisturbed by ships or people rowing through it. You wondered what it’d be like to sail across it to the lands far beyond like your grandfather before you. You thought about seeing the ruins of Valyria, or the bronze horses of Vaes Dothrak. The edges of the maps are even more mysterious. You had Starshine. You could ride her there. But, whenever you pictured this scenario, you’d usually imagine yourself alone in a foreign land. Seeing Aemond beside you, you liked the idea of him coming along.

“I hope you’ve been well,” you heard him say.

“I have. And you?”

“Better, now that you’re here.” He gave a soft smile, then said, "I truly enjoyed your drawing. I wasn’t aware you drew.”

“Not all the time. I started doing it a few months ago, but I wanted to wait until I was good enough to show you.”

You’d recently picked up drawing after reading about the famous painter, Sandal Dayne, a lord who’d created the most beautiful murals all over Dorne. Inspired by his landscapes and portraits of his family members, you gathered up pieces of charcoal, ink, and watered down paints to use. Your skills are not as wonderful or detailed as Sandal Dayne’s, but you hoped to be one day. The last picture you drew was Starshine sitting on a rock in Dragonstone. The tutor your mother hired said it was ‘a start’. You certainly enjoyed the new hobby; it made you think of Aemond sometimes.

“I went into the dragonpit the other day. I saw Dreamfyre."

You frowned, forgetting the drawing, "Why do you do that, Aemond? You could die going down there."

"I…" he paused.

“Did you think you’d come across an unclaimed dragon and be able to tame it on your own?” you asked. “Why would you do something so dangerous?”

“I want one,” he snapped at you. “Everyone else in our family has a dragon except me. Even your brothers have dragons. I want…” he sighed deeply, digging his toe into the sand, “I want to be strong.”

“You are strong,” you said, putting your hand on his shoulder, “And brave and intelligent and funny and kind and all those good things. You don’t need a dragon to prove that to anyone.”

“I’m not a real Targaryen without one.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, Aemond. Of course you’re a Targaryen.”

“Not a real one.”

“Yes, you are a real one.”

“I want you to be proud to be marrying me,” he said, facing you.

“I am proud to be marrying you one day.” You stepped closer to him, "You'll have one soon," you said. "You have Valyrian blood in you. Otherwise, you wouldn't be able to control a dragon."

He gazed up at you when you said that. You hoped he understood your true meaning. Jaceryes and Lucerys could not have dragons if they were bastards. The logic made sense. Your mother expected you to swallow the excuse that she preferred Dragonstone over The Red Keep. You knew the truth: she wanted to escape the whispers. The entire court often murmured about your brothers and their true births. You only wanted to stay because of Aemond and Helaena, but your mother and brothers meant as much too.

"Maybe when we're married and I have a dragon, we can go riding together," he said, diffusing the tension. "Like King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne."

You shyly smiled at the comparison. The tale of the Old King and his queen was one of your favorites in history. You always dreamed of a love like theirs: strong even at moments where it nearly broke. Even their dragons, Vermithor and Silverwing, were soulmates. “Maybe…” you said. “I would like that very much.”

You both smiled at each other, and continued watching the ocean again.

* * *

‘They look sweet together,’ she thought. ‘He adores her.’

Rhaenyra stood at the edge of the balcony overlooking the ocean. She’d gone here to find some shred of peace amongst the funeral party. Her husband having disappeared off to the beach, she found herself standing alone in a room full of people. She’d caught sight of her younger brother and daughter standing together on the beach underneath the balcony. You enjoyed watching the ships that came and went from Dragonstone, playing your far-away fairytale game of guessing which ships went where. Rhaenyra knew how you felt. There’d been a time where she too imagined living another life with someone she loved. She wondered if you imagined Aemond going with you. Maester Gerardys said you often received ravens from King’s Landing, though he had no clue from who. Rhaenyra did.

Someone came to her side and she saw Alicent. She’d dressed herself in a dark green gown that looked black in certain lights. Her brown hair remained held back by another golden band, glimmering against her curls. Loose. Everything about Alicent remained loose and flowing as if like an angel on clouds. There’d once been a time where Rhaenyra took several seconds to admire the floating angel. But, those days passed many years ago. She took a spot beside Rhaenyra and looked down at the couple below.

“They’ve been writing to one another,” she said to Rhaenyra. “Maester Orwyle told me Aemond visits the rookery often to send his letters himself.” She looked over at her with a small smirk, “He thinks we don’t know.”

“It is the same with my Y/N,” she nodded. “She’s very fond of your son.”

“As she said when you left King’s Landing,” she smiled softly. “It was a touching moment. You should’ve seen it,” she said, “Your poor girl. She wept and wept and wept, telling Aemond how fond she was of him.”

Rhaenyra recognized that dreamy gaze. It often came about when Alicent spoke of the romantic stories and poems she recited. She turned away from the children, and looked to the room. She spotted her father sitting underneath an awning, tired and sickly.

“How has he been?” she asked Alicent.

“More or less the same,” she sighed, still watching the couple below. “The maesters said the infection in his finger spread to his arm, so they amputated it.”

“Was there no other way to save it?”

She shook her head, “No. They said if it kept spreading, the infection would eventually reach his heart and he’d…”

Die. Her father would die. Rhaenyra’s heart sank seeing her father, who’d once stood proudly, limping around on a walking stick. Now missing an appendage, his life became even more difficult. She wished she could do more than sit back and see him deteriorate. The inevitable day will come that the crown he wore will pass down to her, and she'd be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Her sons will rule after her and so on for ages. There'd once been a time where she wanted it, and then a time where she did not. Feeling Alicent standing so close, she imagined them ruling together for the briefest of moments.

If only she'd been born a man, then she could’ve had her and the throne.

"Remember the first time we came here?" Alicent asked.

The question stung. "Yes, I do."

A blissful moment in a series of bad ones. They'd gone to Driftmark for Laenor’s grandfather’s funeral. Before the throne and the marriages, it'd been the two of them on this beach. Right where their children stood together, looking over the ocean and the world feeling so limited despite the expanse before them. A crisp nightly walk alone, the beach breeze in their hair and on their clothes, Alicent and Rhaenyra walked a world entirely their own that night. They’d walked hand-in-hand, talking about court gossip or about their lives. She’d never felt more comfortable around someone outside of her mother; Alicent filled a special place in her heart that night. When they’d finally rested on one of the dunes, their bodies out of sight of anyone else who might walk past, and how she talked about her possible betrothal to a Tyrell boy. She expressed deep dislike over the possibility. She didn’t know the boy; the boy didn’t know her. Rhaenyra said they could both run away on Syrax; they can escape this suffocating world and be just them. Alicent had blushed and laughed, thinking she’d jested, but she hadn’t.

They’d kissed. It’d been her first real kiss. Rhaenyra gulped thickly recalling Alicent’s sweet lips and the blushing giggles they’d shared. Their souls became one in that moment. Their hearts blended into one piece that would never break.

Then, she remembered what drifted them apart in the first place. She remembered how one word permanently wedged a rift between them.

‘No.’

“Do you ever regret it?”

Rhaenyra begged to ask what she meant exactly. She turned to see Alicent not looking at her, but their children. “No,” she said, “I do not. I only regret-”

“-Alicent.”

Lord Hightower appeared, his eyes flitting between her and his daughter. A small fire of anger flared inside her. Lord Otto Hightower and his firm religious beliefs; his strict moral code that forbid Alicent to have any sort of agency of her own. Rhaenyra knew now that it’d been him who influenced her father to marry her childhood friend. He’d wanted his daughter to be a queen, and his grandchildren to be heirs. It was why he pushed so steadfastly to have Aegon be named heir over the years; her father denied him every time. Alicent soon began feeling the same through his influence.

“Have you found him?” Alicent asked her father, straightening and putting her guard up again.

“Not yet,” he said, coming closer. “I’m sure he has not gone far. Aegon had too much to drink.”

“He always has had too much to drink,” Rhaenyra couldn’t help herself. “I can’t imagine the boy being able to make his own decisions when drinking his weight in alcohol.”

He read between the lines. “He can be if given strict discipline.”

“Keep looking for him, Father,” Alicent said before either can continue, “Have Ser Criston help you.”

The next name sparked another flame inside her, but she doused it out. She took one more look at you and Aemond, seeing you both sink into the sand together. Visions of her daughter’s first kiss flipped through her mind. She imagined her daughter having the same romantic night that she’d shared with Alicent. Any reasonable mother might stay to watch over them, but Rhaenyra knew how important privacy is for a budding romance. She kept Alicen’t gaze away from them, and said:

“Excuse me, Your Grace,” she said, “But I must give my uncle my condolences.”

“Of course.”

Rhaenyra gave Lord Hightower one last glance before walking away. She hoped Alicent doesn’t see the couple and force them apart. Why should she not? Her father did it, and she is her father’s daughter.

* * *

But she had. Alicent saw them from the corner of her eye while her father talked to her about Aegon. It reminded her far too much of her own moment with Rhaenyra on the beach. Their children are much younger than they’d been, but she saw that care there. She saw the twinkle in Aemond’s light eyes whenever he saw you. Aemond is far more romantic than he lets on; he keeps his feelings far too close to his chest, never really revealing them to anyone besides his mother and sister. He knew you were a person he could confide in, and that made him happy. Alicent prayed the marriage is successful; that their love will be far greater and better than the one she’d dreamed for.

“What did she say to you?” her father asked her.

“We talked about Aemond and Y/N,” she answered. She turned to see his unconvinced stare, then said, “That is all.”

With all that occurred between them, Alicent suspected her father’s suspicions never fully disappeared. She noticed how he’d stare when she grew too close to any one woman in court. She recalled how he’d so eagerly urged her to meet with the king after his wife died; how the king then told her to keep their meetings a secret. He worried Alicent’s love for Rhaenyra might put a rock in his plans. She knew this now. She’d never forget the sharp words he’d said when she expressed displeasure at being dishonest with Rhaenyra.

“Do not let your feelings for her ruin your future.”

What future, Father? The one you’d so meticulously crafted?

“She thinks they will make a good match,” Alicent filled in the space. “I was only agreeing with her.”

“Hmmm.”

He continued searching for a lie. She hated it when he did that.

“Your Grace,” Ser Criston Cole approached her, “We’ve had no sign of the prince anywhere.”

“He’ll turn up soon.”

Her eldest son often piled himself with cups during formal events. Alicent knew her son enjoyed the raucous debauchery of King’s Landing inns and taverns over the posh noble gatherings. She had no idea where she’d gone wrong with him. She’d noticed his absence sometime into the event, so she’d asked her father to find him. If anyone sets Aegon straight, it is her father. Unfortunately, he’d eluded his family somehow. Alicent hoped nothing terrible had happened.

Her eyes went around the room to find Rhaenyra again. Their moment by the railing moments ago is a rarity these days. Every time she might see tenderness, it immediately escaped her. Whenever Rhaenyra came to mind, she thought of that night and the missed opportunities. Then she recalled Rhaenyra’s blatant lie about what happened between her and Daemon in the brothel. She’d sworn on her mother’s grave that she never let Daemon touch her; that they’d kissed, and it meant nothing. She promised she hadn’t done it to hurt her. She knew the marriage to the King was not Alicent’s idea. The only person Alicent trusted completely shattered any piece of that trust when Ser Criston told her about what they’d done that night. How he’d taken her maidenhead, and then refused to leave Westeros with him like a pair of fairytale lovers.

Later on, Alicent realized if Rhaenyra wished to leave her life behind, she’d only do it with her.

What hurt most was Harwin Strong. Rhaenyra made herself clear by falling for Harwin, who then fathered her boys. Those boys will be heirs to the Iron Throne when Viserys finally dies and Rhaenyra ascends. The boys with dark hair and dark eyes are clearly not blood of the dragon unlike her daughter, Y/N, who is a perfect blend of Laenor and Rhaenyra. The treachery is obvious. The dishonor and lack of duty to her station were loud and clear for the court, but Viserys chose to ignore them. She knew his favor rested heavily on Rhaenyra, the child of his first wife, Aemma. If Rhaenyra takes the throne, her father says, war will break out. She must prepare Aegon for the throne, but seeing his behavior, she doubted he’d ever be fit for it.

Aemond, though. Aemond would make a great ruler. He studies. He listens. He does not shrink from duty or responsibilities like his brother. She heard he’d given both Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys his condolences without being told. He had a soft heart, even if he hid it behind sullenness. She hoped you took care of her boy and his heart.

“Shall I watch over them for you, Your Grace?” Ser Criston asked her. “The hour is growing later.”

“No,” she shook her head, “Let them be alone. They’ll come in eventually.”

“Alone? Your Grace, I highly doubt that is appropriate.”

“Aemond is not his brother.”

He will be a perfect gentleman.

* * *

Neither of you is sure how long you actually sat there together. You cared too much about the moment to keep track of time. Sitting on the sand, you’d slipped off your shoes to let your toes dig into the cool dirt. The ocean waves continued rolling up to the shore before sliding away back into the sea, a motion you watched closely.

“Do you think they’ll get along?” you asked him.

“Who?”

“Our families,” you looked at him, knees drawn up to your chest, “Do you really think us being married will fix things?”

Aemond hesitated. He often did this when he felt reluctant to speak his mind. He looked over at your face, then said, “No. I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

“My mother hates your mother.”

“I don’t think so.”

“She does. The contempt she has for your mother’s behavior is clear. They’ve never liked each other.”

“That’s not true,” you said. “Grandfather told me that they’d been great friends once, but then something happened, and they started hating each other.”

“That is difficult to believe,” he disagreed. “Maybe a terrible thing happened that made them stop being friends.” He dug a stick into the sand, making swirling patterns in the dirt, and said, “But, I don’t think us being married will make them like each other again. They hate each other too much, I think. I didn’t think my mother would ever agree to a marriage proposal,” he then added, smiling softly, “But I’m glad she did.”

You watched him make patterns in the sand, and smiled, “Me too.” You shifted closer to his side, and said, “You promise never to hate me?”

“Why would I hate you, Y/N?”

“I don’t know. Do you promise?”

He stopped making his sand drawings, and shared a glance with you. “Never.”

Your heart fluttered hearing his answer. After months of writing to one another, your feelings for Aemond developed into more than fondness for your betrothed. You looked forward to every letter, every kind word, and every lovely poem. You’d never say a part of your newfound hobby came from Aemond’s sweet poems. You’d wanted to give him a gift to keep even when you didn’t write; a gift to remember you.

“I never will either,” you answered.

You spotted pink filling the tops of his cheeks. “Good,” he gulped.

You reached for the drawing hand so he dropped the stick. The gesture meant to reassure him of your feelings. The words caught in your throat, and you willed yourself to try saying them. But, Aemond seemed to understand, since he overturned his hand to hold yours. Supple fingertips brushed your palm and the top of your hand. Your eyes met him in the gentle breeze, the world growing ever darker around you but you couldn’t stop the warmth filling your body. You gasped, noticing Aemond leaning closer to you timidly. Was it happening? Is this how Harwin kissed your mother the first time? You stayed still as Aemond came within inches of you.

“Y/N?”

Aemond and you jumped apart as Luke appeared a few feet away from you. He stared at you innocently, swishing his cloak around his knees while he looked at you.

“What is it, Luke?” you asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of your tone.

“Mother says we’re to go to bed now,” he said.

You almost threw a clump of sand at him. Right when you thought Aemond might kiss you, he shows up. You turned back to Aemond, sulky once more, and gave an apologetic smile. “It is getting late,” you said, “I suppose we should go.”

“You can,” he replied in disappointment. “Will I see you tomorrow morning before we leave?”

“You may, if you wish.”

“Y/N,” Luke called you again, “Mother says to come inside.”

“I heard you,” you snapped at him.

Hoping it’ll make him feel better, you kissed Aemond’s cheek. It was soft and warm on your lips. You probably should not have done it with Luke nearby, watching and waiting, but you wanted Aemond to know. Perhaps another time when you’re both truly alone. Pulling away, you saw his cheeks grow redder. You giggled, elation in your stomach, and walked away from him with a sheepish smile. Taking Luke’s hand, you couldn’t stop yourself from turning back over at Aemond, who remained seated in the sand.

Right as you reached the balcony again, you heard a loud roar in the distance. You looked up into the skies, hoping to see a large winged shadow amongst them, but the dragon flew too high. It reminded you of Aemond, who did not possess a dragon yet. He would one day, and then you two can go on flights together and have many adventures.

You’d like that very much.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond x yn #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd drabble #hotd fanfiction #ewan mitchell #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer

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ambrossart · 1 month

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Hello, my question is about the Bowers gang and the music. I simply found it curious and fun and since Victor also seems to be a music fan and invited Evelyn next time to listen to music, my question is about her musical tastes, if she has a group. favorite or what genre of music do they listen to or if they have a favorite singer since Belch is a character who is characterized by the fact that he loves Metallica, so he asks me what type of music would each one listen to, Belch, well, he listens to metallica and anthrax (he has a band t-shirt and it appears in a movie if I remember correctly) Victor in one of the chapters says that he likes an Aerosmith song but from there I don't have an idea of the bands or singers I heard, much less Henry or Patrick, I feel Patrick would be the strangest, he doesn't even seem like a person who listened to music or is a fan of someone and Henry doesn't seem that way to me either, and also it's from the 80's so it's even more interesting because I love the music of the 80's. 80s and 70s.

First of all, I absolutely love questions like this! I’ve had the worst week, so this was a very welcome mental vacation. Thank you for this.

Anyway, let’s discuss everyone’s music preferences! I’m just gonna break this down character by character to make my life easier.

— Evelyn

Evelyn likes whatever songs catch her ear on the radio. Music isn’t a huge part of her life, so she doesn’t really have a favorite song or artist. She has songs she likes (a lot of those classic 80s pop hits), sure, but I doubt she knows the names of most of them. So far, I think the only artists I’ve specifically mentioned her liking are Olivia Newton-John, the B-52s (literally just for “Love Shack” probably), and The Beach Boys, but we’ll discover more of her interests later. It’s not a major storyline by any means, but it does get explored.

— Vic

This may be a departure from canon, but in my mind, Victor Criss is an early adopter of the whole 90s grunge aesthetic. Messy hair. Ripped jeans. Flannel. Oversized shirts. Drinking coffee and smoking weed. If this story took place in the 90s, Vic would be all up in that grunge scene. I’m honestly super bummed I couldn’t go that route with him, but mark my words, that boy will go full grunge in college. He will.

Since this story doesn’t take place in the 90s, a lot of people (and by “people” I mean the characters in the story) probably assume Vic’s into heavy metal like Belch, but that’s not necessarily true. See, Vic is very picky about his music, and I don’t mean that in a snobby way at all (although Vic can be a little snobby about it). For him, music is therapy. Vic just wants to get really high, listen to some music, and escape himself for a while. And the wrong kind of music can be painfully grating to him, like to the point where it would cause him intense physical discomfort. That’s why he’s so picky.

So what kind of music does Vic like? I dunno… I could see him being into psychedelic rock, artists like Pink Floyd, Jimi Hendrix, Cream, The Byrds, The Beatles, stuff like that. Vic is very private about his music, though. There’s a reason Christie Gibson can’t seem to figure him out.

It's also a pretty big deal that Vic has invited Evelyn to listen to music with him. Just saying.

— Belch

Next to Victor, Belch is probably the most serious about music. As we all know from the movie, heavy metal is his preference and his passion, but he’s also the kind of guy who can (secretly) appreciate a well-composed song regardless of its genre. That being said, Belch does tend to steer clear of the mainstream pop music scene… unless, of course, Christie Gibson is with him. Yeah, when those two are together, he pretty much lets her play whatever music she wants (because Belch is a good boyfriend).

— Henry

Yeah, I don’t think Henry is that serious about music. He listens to it, sure, everyone does, but it doesn’t impact his life significantly. Despite that, Henry’s tastes are probably very similar to Belch’s, simply because that’s how Henry gets exposed to most of his music: he listens to whatever Belch plays in the car. Apart from that, I could also see him being into bands like Led Zeppelin, Blue Öyster Cult, Deep Purple, Kansas, etc. But would he consider any of them his favorite band? Probably not, because Henry doesn’t have a favorite band.

Honestly, I think Henry has a very negative relationship with music in general. Anything that tries to tap into his emotions or influence his emotions, yeah Henry doesn’t like that. At all. He doesn’t wanna feel things. He doesn’t wanna think about his parents or his childhood. He wants all that shit to stay buried real deep.

— Patrick

For Patrick, all music sounds the same—and by that, I mean it’s all just “noise” to him. He doesn’t connect to it on any level, least of all emotionally.

In Chapter 5 (I think?) we saw Patrick using the radio kind of like a weapon. He purposefully messed with the knob to create the most annoying sounds his possibly could, hoping that it would drive the other guys in the car crazy. And it worked. Belch almost crashed the damn car. That pretty much sums up Patrick’s relationship with music. It’s just something else for him to manipulate and use for his entertainment.

So yeah, I could see Patrick listening to some really weird shit, like music that isn’t really music, but more like a bunch of random creepy/disturbing sounds put together. Patrick’s a weirdo. There’s no way he listens to traditional music.

___________

Okay, that's all I have to say on the subject. Thanks again for this ask! It was a lot of fun to think about. ❤️

#bowers gang #henry bowers #patrick hockstetter #victor criss #belch huggins #it stephen king #it 2017 #answered asks #thanks for the ask!#it fanfiction #paper men #ambrossart

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ariesqueencobra · 2 months

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what we used to be | Xl

Pairing: Eli Moskowitz x Fem!Reader

Summary: You find out some interesting facts about Sensei, you and Eli celebrate a milestone in your relationship, you make a statement with your dojo at Valley Fest.

Warnings: swearing, kissing, typical dojo rivalries, karate fighting/demonstration

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: This was at 1.9k but then I added a cute scene and I'm so happy with it! I love Eli and Reader's relationship, they're so freaking adorable it makes me sick! I'm glad I'm able to push these chapters out, glad you're enjoying them!

Thank you to those who already reblog and comment, I see you and I love you all for it!

I don't consent to this work being copied, translated or reposted.

It was a beautiful day on the beach. Sun shining down, breeze blowing away the heat, the sand soft under your feet, and the waves crashing on the shore.

You watched Demitri crane his neck as he got ready to serve. So much wind up for him just to hit the net. You dropped your head, hiding a laugh.

“Mulligan, send it back,” Demitri said.

“There’s no mulligans in volleyball,” Eli said from the other side of the net.

“Says you,” Demitri argued before he stalked off. “Water break.”

Sighing, you walked closer to the net just in time to see a girl hit on Demitri after assuming he was part of Cobra Kai.

Going along with it, Demitri pretended to be part of the famous dojo.

Once the girls left, you chuckled, patting him on the shoulder. “Seems like you have a few admirers,” you beamed.

“It’d be actually nice if you earned the Cobra Kai cred you’re so happy to take,” Eli stated, not amused. “When are you gonna sign up?”

“I don’t know. I’m kinda enjoying the gain without the pain,” he smirked.

You raised your brow.

Before being given a chance to respond, Miguel showed up, pulling Eli’s attention away.

“Cobra Kai would be more fun with you,” you hiked your shoulders, offering your friend a smile. “You could be badass like me,” you playfully jabbed a few punches at him.

He frowned at you. “You were inside a cement truck the other day,” he deadpanned.

You laughed. “And it made me stronger,” you shrugged. “Maybe it could tone up your noodle arms,” you joked.

He sent you a look.

Shaking your head, you walked over to greet Eli.

“Wait till you get a load of this, babe,” Eli said.

“What is it?”

“Robby Keene is Sensei’s son.”

Stretching next to Eli, you reached for your foot, feeling your hamstrings stretch. The conversation you were having was a continuation of the revealed information on Sensei’s lineage.

You were shocked to hear about it. You never considered Sensei to be a dad and even now as you assessed the situation, you figured there was more to the story considering Keene was mentored by his father’s enemy.

“So I did a deep dive online and you were right,” Eli began. “Sensei’s definitely Keene’s father.”

You blew out a breath.

So much drama to unpack.

“I just don’t understand why he wouldn’t tell us,” Miguel sighed.

“It explains why he’s giving us shit for kicking Keene’s ass at the tournament,” your boyfriend scoffed.

You pursed your lips together in thought. “Umm, I don’t think that was the reason,” you disagreed.

Both boys sent you a look.

You rolled your eyes. “I just think it’s more than what we’re assuming,” you shrugged.

“It’s simple. Show no mercy unless it’s his son,” Eli said, kinda aggravated that you didn’t agree with him.

You shook yourself out of the conversation, focusing on your stretching.

“Did you guys see the commercial?” Aisha walked up to the three of you. “Sam’s dad started his own dojo and he disses Cobra Kai,” she handed Miguel her phone.

Listening, you could hear the little joke “snake in the grass”. You were more shocked that Mr. LaRusso actually said it than feeling any anger at all.

“Bet it was Keene that suggested that,” Eli scoffed.

“What the hell were they even thinking? Karate is all about defense?” Aisha furrowed her brows, getting her phone back. “Yet you throw a pussy move like that in your commercial?”

You exhaled. “Are we going to strike back? Seems only fair,” you suggested. You had to, you figured. If Miyagi-Do’s willing to throw a hit-or-miss joke in their commercial, clearly poking the bear, you had to go in with your own play.

That’s how the idea of creating a commercial for Cobra Kai came about.

Now Aisha was filming Sensei as he advertised why joining Cobra Kai would be badass.

You stood next to Eli and Miguel as the video recorded, impressed at how easily Sensei was able to sell it.

He was clear-cut, straight to the point—something you admired from having him as your sensei.

“And cut,” Aisha said, ending the recording.

“All right, did we get it?”

“I think so,” she stared at her phone, making sure the video was captured.

“Great, just make sure the Cobra Kai snake comes in at the end. I really want it to pop, make it chrome,” he stalked towards his office. “And throw “Thunderstruck” under it,” he added.

You raised your brows in amusement, wondering if he would be able to afford the rights for it.

“I think the rights for that song cost too much,” Aisha stated.

“No, I already own it, cassette’s in the car,” he pointed. “Oh and put one of those hash browns on it, like “Hash brown Team Cobra Kai,” he gestured. “And then send it to the internet!”

You snickered.

Eli and Miguel left to go talk to Sensei about his son so you made your way over to Aisha.

“You think we could manage to get more female recruits at Valley Fest?” You asked her.

She was putting her phone away, a smile appearing on her face. “Oh I’m planning on that, we seriously need more estrogen in this dojo,” she snickered.

You glanced around, between the smell and the number of boys in the class, you longed for one more girl in the dojo. “Maybe it’d give the incentive to build a locker room, I hate changing in the bathroom,” you sighed, resting your hands on your belt.

While the boys had no problem changing in front of each other, you and Aisha had to take turns changing in the bathroom. Not only was it so gross in there but it wasted so much time. You prayed for a day when you wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore.

“I know, it’s disgusting in there,” she grimaced. “Maybe we could take the night to have some fun, it’s been a while since we last hung out,” she said.

The two of you make plans at least every other week to hang out. Consisting of shopping trips, hanging out at the beach, or going to those fun painting classes, you loved spending time with her. Between that, the boys are joining in or you’re with your families, and in your case, you have a boyfriend who enjoys spending time with you.

It had been a while since it was just the two of you.

“That sounds like fun,” you smiled. “I have been spending a lot of time with Eli,” you trailed.

“Thanks for finally realizing, but don’t worry, we can use that time to talk about all the juicy details of your relationship,” she giggled.

Your cheeks warmed up. “It’s not that interesting, but there are some things that have happened,” you grinned at the memory of saying “I love you” for the first time.

“Can’t wait to hear all about it,” she said, touching your shoulder before she walked out of the dojo.

You headed to the bathroom to change and by the time you got out, Eli was back in his clothes, though he didn’t look amused.

“Guess who’s stuck on mat duty for the next two weeks,” Eli came up, hands landing on your waist with an irritated frown on his face.

“I hope not me,” you answered, showing a smile in hopes to cheer him up. His frown didn’t change and you sighed. “Sorry, but now you have an answer, right?” You reassured him, rubbing his shoulder. “It’s obvious it’s a sore subject for him.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he sighed. “You ready to go?” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

You nodded before making your way outside to his car.

Eli’s hand was in yours as you sat next to each other in the booth. Both of you preferred to be close compared to sitting across from each other. It also made stealing food off his plate easier.

Today marked your eight-month anniversary.

You couldn’t believe how different the two of you were now in such a short time. You were happy.

“I know we’re not gonna do gifts until our first anniversary, but I wanted to give this to you,” you reached for your purse, pulling out a flat canvas.

His eyes widened as it came into view, his mouth curving upward in amazement. “Badass, babe,” he reached over to kiss you. “How’d you reference it?”

The painting was of his hawk tattoo, a complete replica. It was a symbol of his confidence, carrying so much meaning yet he never got to see it when he wanted.

You wanted him to be able to. “I have my ways,” you smirked playfully.

He kissed you again, more tenderly this time before he pulled away, and reached into his pocket. “I actually have something for you too,” he said, clutching something in his hand. “Close your eyes,” he said. “And hold out your hand.”

You grew excited as you did, feeling the soft brush of his fingers around your wrist. You felt something wrap around it and when you opened your eyes again, your face melted as you stared at the pretty flower-beaded bracelet.

“Eli,” you gasped.

“I got it in lavender since it’s your favorite color,” he said. “It’s also a bracelet so you don’t have to take it off during class,” he explained.

“I love it,” you pressed your hand to your chest. “Thank you, Eli,” you leaned over to kiss him.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you.”

After finishing dinner, you drove to your place. You wanted to get more summer work done and Eli promised he’d help.

Toeing off your shoes, you grabbed Eli’s hand and walked down the hall, only to be stopped by your mother who was sitting in the living room.

“Hi, Mrs. L/N,” Eli greeted, a smile on his face.

“Hi, sweetie,” your mom said, looking up from her book. “Still rocking the mohawk, huh?” She grinned.

“Yeah, don’t think it’s going away anytime soon,” he smirked, glancing at you as he rolled his lips together.

“We’ll be in my room, doing biology,” you said, pulling Eli along with you to your room.

You left your door ajar, putting on some study music before you were pulling Eli close to you.

“What happened to doing biology?” He spoke low enough that the music drowned out his voice.

“We’ll do that later, I want to take advantage before my dad gets home,” you implied.

His eyes widened in realization before you began kissing.

The moment was nicely shared between you two, the soft music playing, the privacy you had without anyone bugging you. It was just you and your boyfriend, sitting on your bed, kissing.

You smiled into the kiss, cupping his cheek. His hand resting on your side.

Afterward, you were putting the study music to good use, a pencil in your hand and Eli’s arm draped over the back of your chair as he watched you work, making sure to correct you along the way.

Thankfully, you’ve been getting better at understanding the material, and not needing much of his aid as much. It was a relief to have him there though.

When you got a problem incorrect, you pushed the packet over to him so he could see where you went wrong. You rested your head in the palm of your hand, being less discrete about watching him.

This was your time to take in his features, pointing out all the things you loved about him. His long lashes, his striking blue eyes, his smile—those were just the few that were obvious.

Unable to contain the playful aggression coursing through you, you reached out, grabbed his face, and repeatedly kissed him all over his face.

He began laughing, leaning back in his chair to make room as you invaded his space. His arm wrapped tightly around your waist while he allowed you to assault him with kisses.

With only a couple of minutes passing by, you both doubled over in laughter, your forehead dropping to his shoulder as you attempted to suppress the giggles that escaped you. But you couldn’t and you didn’t care to hide it.

“We’re really gonna do this?” You asked, tightening your belt around your gi.

“No better way than to show those bitches we’re not pussys,” Miguel said.

You blew out a breath, standing behind Miguel as you got ready.

The announcer drew attention to the LaRusso Auto Group stage. The lights dimmed, three silhouettes showing.

You noticed it was Mr. LaRusso, Sam, and Robby.

They began moving in sync, their movements captivating the audience. While they were supposed to be the enemy, you couldn’t help but feel intrigued by their demonstration. It was controlled, and precise, and it looked like a dance.

It was calling out to the artist inside you.

“What kind of lame-ass karate is that?” Eli scoffed.

You ignored him, watching the lights on the stage turn on, their movements becoming quicker. None of them attacked, which you found odd. Still, you wanted to know why.

“I think we’ll get more recruits this way,” Aisha said, pulling you out of your thoughts.

Sensei devised a plan to sabotage LaRusso’s demonstration for dissing Cobra Kai in his commercial.

“I agree,” you said almost on auto-pilot, your eyes trained on the stage. Anticipation grew in you as Mr. LaRusso called out for the big finale but then the lights dimmed, the sound cutting off and you remembered why you were here.

“Cobra Kai!” You shouted in unison with your team, trotting toward the main stage, gathering the attention of the crowd.

As you chanted your dojo name, the crowd cheered, rushing over to see your demonstration.

You did your fight choreography, showing the audience what you were able to do. You fought off your teammates in the showcase, sweeping their legs as you punched them. Aisha broke boards blindfolded and Eli brought Demitri on stage to kick a board mid-air.

You threw out Cobra Kai merchandise, the crowd roaring with excitement.

Sensei broke a stack of cement slabs in half for the big finale while on fire.

Standing in a line, you smiled proudly, listening to the crowd chant your name.

“We did it,” you heard Sensei say and you couldn’t stop a smile from appearing on your face.

#eli moskowitz x reader #eli moskowitz #eli moskowitz imagine #hawk x reader #cobra kai

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ghostoffuturespast · 3 months

Text

So It Goes - Chapter 41: Anarchy

[X]

The hallway exploded. Concussions rippled and wracked the air, followed a millisecond later by the shredding of glass and metal. Shock waves sent stray bits of shrapnel rocketing past to lodge in the carpet while chunks of concrete catapulted in a spray of dust and battered the walls. Screams; the bang of the starting guns. The timer started.

I'm nearing the end of this fic, and, well, no more poems after this. (At least, I don't think...) So, I did something a little special for the occasion. Maybe kinda spoilery if you're reading the fic, but if you've played the game, you already know.

Transcript below the cut if you don't want to listen to me read remixed poetry for 4:20. (ha) Not quite formatted correctly since there aren't any justification settings here and I skipped my playing around with blank space, but you get the drift:

The Sailing Rime of J. Alfred Prufrock and The Ancient Mariner's Love Song to Byzantium

I should have been a pair of ragged claws Scuttling across the floors of silent seas. To ask a question: Would you take a bullet for me? And some in dream assured were Of the Spirit that plagued us so; Nine fathom deep he had followed us From the land of mist and snow. The self-same moment I could pray, And from my neck so free The Albatross fell off, and sank Like lead into the sea. Let us go then, you and I... And would it have been worth it, after all, Would it have been worth while, After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets, After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor- And this, and so much more?- It is impossible to say just what I mean! But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen: Would it have been worth while If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl, And turning toward the window, should say: "That is not it at all, That is not what I meant, at all." No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be; Am an attendant lord, one that will do To swell a progress, start a scene or two, Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool, Deferential, glad to be of use, Politic, cautious, and meticulous; Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse; At times, indeed, almost ridiculous- Almost, at times, the Fool. That is no country for old men. The young In one another's arms, birds in the trees, -Those dying generations- at their song, The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas, Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long Whatever is begotten, born, and dies. Caught in that sensual music all neglect Monuments of unageing intellect. I grow old... I grow old... I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. An aged man is but a paltry thing, A tattered coat upon a stick, unless Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing For every tatter in its mortal dress, Nor is there singing school but studying Monuments of its own magnificence; An therefore I have sailed the seas and come To the holy city of Byzantium. Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach. I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. O sages standing in God's holy fire As in the gold mosaic of a wall, Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre, And be the singing-masters of my soul. Consume my heart away; sick with desire And fastened to a dying animal It knows not what it is; and gather me Into the artifice of eternity. I do not think that they will sing to me. Once out of nature I shall never take My bodily form from any natural thing, But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make Of hammered gold and gold enamelling To keep a drowsy Emperor awake; Or set upon a golden bough to sing To lords and ladies of Byzantium Of what is past, or passing, or to come. I have seen them riding seaward on the waves Combing the white hair of the waves blown back When the wind blows the water white and black. We have lingered in the chambers of the sea By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot Sailing to Byzantium by William Butler Yeats

#cyberpunk 2077 #writing #fan fiction #fic: so it goes #oc: valerie hye jin li #my grandpa v #stinky not fresh #v x river ward #though to be fair this chapter is the v and johnny show #v and johnny - back on my conjunction bologna #all the poems #i dropped the texas this time so y'all know what i sound like for real now #my face on the other hand nu-uh

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marthawrites · 11 months

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The Arbor and the Dragon: Chapter 4, Moonlight

Aemond Targaryen x Redwyne fem reader

Word count: 6.8k+

About: Tension around the Red Keep grows. Rumors begin spreading about yours and Aemond's time spent together. Jane, your best friend and lady-in-waiting, reminds you of your favorite summer festival back home. You write Aemond a letter in secret and request his company at the beach. Emotions are high and promises are made.

Includes: Tension, some mild angst, hurt, comfort, and fluff. Reader (named Emeline) has body image issues due to a slight deformity.

Note: Hello lovely reader! I hope I haven't lost you on this story ♥ I deeply apologize for keeping you waiting for literal months for this chapter. The beach scene in this chapter has been living in my heart and mind for a solid month or even two! I've been greedy with it, and it's finally time to share it. It's inspired by a cut-scene in a video game and if you get the reference please let me know because I will fall in love! As always, I hope that you enjoy it! I plan on having chapter 5 ready to share much sooner than this one was (3 flippin mo rofl) ♥

Catch up on earlier chapters with the series masterlist

"Are you taking Lady Redwyne to the Sept this morning?" Alicent asked her son as he sat across the table from her. On any other occasion the Queen Mother's question could be received as harmless. A simple inquiry. Naught more than curiosity for her soon to be daughter-in-law's goodness.

Aemond knew his mother better. His fork clinked on the silver plate as he dragged a chunk of sausage through syrup. A childhood favorite. Only his mother would indulge him in such a treat if she meant to soften him up.

Or, perhaps, she merely missed her son. They'd hardly seen each other as of late.

The curtains of her room were drawn open, as were the windows, and summer's morning breeze rolled over King's Landing from the ocean. "Yes, mother, I've already said that," Aemond answered as he ate the bite from his fork. No one else joined them for the day's breaking fast; not even a servant. Fruit, still warm bread, and bacon accompanied the spiced sausage on polished platters. The small table lent them a feeling of intimacy even their seclusion couldn't. "Would you care to join us?"

Alicent too dragged a bite of sausage through syrup; the source of Aemond's guilty pleasure. "Not this time, no," she answered around a mouthful. If she were dining with anyone else she wouldn't respond in such a way, but with her son she paid it no mind.

Aemond hummed thoughtfully beneath his breath and continued eating. Tension slowly knotted between his shoulders at the heavy silence.

"I worry about you and Lady Redwyne, Aemond.” There it was. The reason for their unspecified meeting. The softness of her lovely eyes, so unlike the rare hue of her son’s, betrayed the practiced hardness of her mouth. With a tilt of her head she regarded him a little closer in a way only a mother could.

Truthfully, the young prince found little pleasure in eating and ate almost solely for the purpose of nourishment. Leave it to his own mother to serve him one of the few things he actually enjoyed only to bring up this topic. Again. “We are to wed in less than a week. What is there to worry about?” He asked, appetite gone.

“You know of what I speak,” she answered curtly, eyes fluttering in such a way Aemond knew she might as well have rolled them. “Now is not the time to fall behind on your duties. You two spend countless hours together. Alone, too, no doubt. On dragon back to who knows where, unchecked around the city, amidst the dragon pit. I’ve said it multiple times: you two are not to be alone together.”

“She is a respite from the daily burden of princeliness and unwavering duties,” he replied, features defensive. Alicent read the subtle shift of his neck and shoulders as if he'd turned the table over in a rush of rage.

“It is unbecoming of you and Lady Redwyne to be practicing what you’re doing. Suspicion of your activities is high. We – I – cannot allow a foreign girl to put you so under her spell that you forget about this war. Depravity doesn’t look good on you. Nor does it serve any sort of purpose.” Heat bloomed across the tops of Alicent’s ears. The grip she had on her silverware made her knuckles turn white. Her jaw jutted authoritatively.

Aemond’s jaw clenched. He loved his mother. He respected his mother. The things he wanted to say would poison both of those things. Instead, he glared across at her and a breath chuffed from his nose.

“The Sept will do you both good today. Ser Arryk will accompany you. Stay and pray as long as you and Lady Redwyne both require. I’m sure it is needed more than I know.” Her voice was even again. Stern.

The prince stood, eye never leaving his mother. “It is good to know you pay heed to my daily activities while actively disregarding Aegon’s lechery and debauchery. If the tables were turned, would you still?” In long strides he stepped to the door. Turning his head over his shoulder he saw her attention following him. “Now that I see where your priorities lie this morning–” he paused with a scoff, “–you might be lightened to know Lady Redwyne is much more than her father's fleet to me, now. You needn't worry over it any longer. Aegon will have it.” He exited, closing the door with deliberate finality.

Duty. Love. Aemond Targaryen treaded a fine line.

Your personal guardsman, Louis, practically vibrated out of his armor in protest of being denied accompanying you with Aemond to the Sept. Growing up with a strict father garnered you the hard learned skill of little mice feet. Subtly was one of your stronger suits, and even Louis, despite your complete trust in him and his skill as a well-trained guardsman, couldn't keep up with you at all times. And, thus, you and Aemond were able to sneak away unbothered on more than one occasion.

And today? Well, Louis simply had to listen to your hard, and unwavering, no. Your father could punish you for it later for all you cared. Time with your soon to be husband was worth it.

Excitement rushed up and down your spine as you saw Aemond make his way to you at the agreed location. You bounced on the balls of your feet eagerly. Clasping your House's grape cluster signet at the center of your mantle accented the low neckline of your dress; perhaps the lowest cut you'd worn in the prince's company. It was sleeveless in the fashion of your home too, and the gossamer cloak offered you a shield of modesty.

You saw a tightening of Aemond's jaw, as well as a stiffness in his back and shoulders, which immediately dampened your excitement. Had you done something wrong? Did he disapprove of your lovely summer gown? Perhaps it was the fashion of your braid – would it offend the other ladies in court with its, potentially, outdated style? Your mouth dried before you even opened it to speak.

He stood in front of you and offered a formal bow, ending with a chaste kiss to the top of your hand. "Good morning, my Lady Redwyne. I don't believe you've officially met Ser Arryk. As per my mother's request, he will be joining us today in journey to the Sept." He spoke evenly. Practiced and courtly. The darkened pupil at the center of his eye, and the way it lingered on the opened expanse of your chest, however, spoke much more passionately.

Your gaze flickered between both men, Ser Arryk standing a few paces back for privacy, and you tried to control your breath. "He must be quite a warrior to be the one protecting you, my prince," you said smoothly before smiling at the knight.

He simply nodded and bowed his head in a show of respect.

"Hm," Aemond hummed shortly. He hadn't loosened at all yet, and if anything he looked even more tense. His hand at the small of your back splayed wider than you'd felt it before, and his fingers curling into your waist gripped firmly.

Oh. Was this… jealousy? Something primal in the ancient part of his brain that made him need to show you as his? Most of your time spent together had been alone: now, another layer to the Targaryen prince to witness.

The carriage ride was silent. Aemond's hand, warm and wide and possessive, stayed glued to the top of your thigh the whole way.

It was only at the great doors of the Sept that Ser Arryk finally spoke. "Pray in peace, my prince. I will be standing guard here at the door. If you need me, you know where I'll be," he bowed politely and turned forward once again, eyes keen and observant on the bustle of the square ahead.

While Aemond acknowledged Arryk, he barely gave the other man more than a simple "hmm," in reply.

"What's the matter, my prince?" Inside, your voice seemed too loud for the incense laden air. There must have been hundreds of candles lit and their smoke made the air heavier than it already was.

Beautiful high windows of stained glass dominated the walls, and geometrical patterns of the overhead framework added to the ornate sanctuary. Outside the sun shone brightly, and when the sky’s fluffy clouds moved away from in front of it, rainbows of light reflected on various swaths of floor, wall, and statue alike. While inspired by religion, you’d never been heavily religious. Here, now, however, you realized why so many people lead a holy life.

Civilians gathered in intimate groups for prayer around the varying altars, and the Sept’s holy brothers and holy sisters wandered throughout the place. One thing you noticed was how many averted their gaze from Aemond. Some even turned on their heel in the opposite direction to, seemingly, avoid getting close to him. Despite his lineage, even the holy brothers and holy sisters regarded him with little formality.

Aemond One-Eye. The cruel prince. Black hearted. Kinslayer. Here, in this holiest of places, there was hardly anything more accursed than a kinslayer. And you, the fair foreign girl from far away in the Reach, his betrothed. The smallfolk knew little of you and likely trusted you less. Being on the arm of the Targaryen Prince brought more side-eyes than respectful greetings.

Tucked away inside the Red Keep with your wedding plans, lady’s gossip, and noble mingling sometimes made it easy to forget that a war was simmering.

Aemond’s stiff shoulders and silence had spread to you.

What a strange turn of morning. In all your time spent together it had never been quite like this. Even your first meeting didn’t carry the same tension that hung in the air between you now. Before you knew it, you found yourself fiddling with the silken material of your dress. A nervous habit you had as long as you could remember.

Finally, while standing in front of the Father, Aemond turned to you and said, “normally I come here with mother, Aegon, and Helaena.” A long breath exhaled from his nose as he tipped the flickering flame of a candle to the wick of another, lighting it. “Mother summoned me to join her alone in breaking fast. I thought it kind, at first. Sweet even,” he chuffed, a disapproving tug pulling down one side of his mouth. “You are spoiling me with yours so I forget it’s not freely given. How silly of me.” His single lilac eye rested on your doe-brown gaze, your lovely dark pools looking up at him softly, questioningly. Attentively.

You extended your hand out to his and held it gently. “Aemond…,” you started, peering up at him with all the gentleness you could muster. “I’m sure your mother didn’t mean to come across the way she did.” You squeezed and stepped closer into him, uncaring of how it might look to any nosey onlookers. In your experience even the most religious folks could be the most nosey. In the high morning light, with rainbows illuminating the cloud of heady smoke, the lines of your bodies meshed into one as you kissed the prince’s cheek.

A smile graced his features and it was the first you’d seen all day. “Let us pray to the Father. May he judge those who seek him for strength and wisdom. May they be wise enough to see what their judgment clouds.”

Kneeling, then, you finally released his hand and began praying in silence. He knelt beside you, too, and you’d be lying if you said prayer had your full attention. Aemond’s lips moved silently and you wondered what he might be praying – they were so handsome, his lips, and you desperately wanted to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him to blushing pinks right here in the middle of the Sept. Each time you peered across at him beneath the protection of your eyelashes you had to force yourself to close your eyes and focus. With his hands clasped, head bowed, and eye closed, he looked ethereal. He was ethereal. They said Targaryens were closer to Gods than men, and the more time you spent with your betrothed, as well as his siblings, the more you came to realize it. Silvery, and pale, with features not quite like anyone else, they truly were lovely and unique. Perhaps one day Aemond would give you one of your own. A tiny white haired dragon with ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes. You smiled in mid-prayer and allowed your mind to wander. When it came time to visit the Maiden’s altar, you could ask for her forgiveness in regard to the impure thoughts that ran rampant in your mind.

After visiting and praying at the altars for the Mother, Warrior, Smith, Maiden, Crone, and Stranger, and after many stolen touches and lingering gazes, you two finally exited the Sept with Arryk close behind. The carriage ride back was lighter than the first. You crossed a leg over the other so it pointed in Aemond’s direction, and behind the little shield of your knee his larger palm rested atop yours.

Upon returning to the Red Keep Aemond was almost immediately swept away by a list of duties and “royal chores” – whatever that meant – that he’d fallen behind on since spending more time with you in the Sept than was expected. You were beginning to read him better and better all the time. While others might not take note of it (sternness and practiced neutrality a theme for the young prince) you saw the bristle of annoyance along his edges as Otto took him away. You barely had time to say goodbye. Walking alongside his grandfather, Aemond turned his head over his shoulder one last time and offered you a small, barely there smile and tilt of his head. Your own lips pressed into a restrained grin as you offered a wave just as small. You hoped he’d at least be able to have dinner with you tonight. Until then, there were many wedding plans and gossip for you to busy yourself with.

During the evening’s meal you were distracted and hungry. “If you could summon him by staring at the door he’d already be here, my lady,” Jane whispered to you sympathetically. “Let’s try to at least enjoy the wine, yes?" She served herself a plate and helped you with yours. "Ah… it reminds me of back home. We’d be getting ready for the dance of the moonlight jellies! It’s tomorrow night! I hate to miss it. This will be the first one I’ve ever missed.” Her expression changed from melancholy, to excitement, to pouting, and you followed right along with her. She tried to soften her pout with a little smile.

“Ah! Gods we would be, huh? Oh, I can’t believe it. This will be the first one I’ve ever missed too. Such a pity. It’s always been my favorite event of the summers.” Your gaze went distant for a moment, fingertip gently circling the rim of your goblet. So far there definitely hadn’t been any sign of Aemond. Nor Aegon or Otto for that matter. Alicent and your father were busy chatting away – assumedly about more wedding plans – and Helaena patiently ate and helped feed her children in turn. There were other noble ladies and men around the table as there were most nights. You couldn’t keep up with all the conversation around, and frankly didn’t care to, because you kept watching the main entrance dreamily as if Aemond would stroll through it at any moment. Jane always knew how to pull you out of your little daydreams. “I almost wish you hadn’t reminded me because now I’m sad,” you laughed.

“Not my intention!” She giggled despite the defensiveness of her tone. “I think it’s lovely your wedding will be so close to the dance. Perhaps they’ll allow us a bonfire in celebration too.”

“Perhaps! Though… I do admit… – ” you dropped your voice low and leaned closer to Jane so no one else might hear what you said “ – I don’t know how long after the vows I’ll be able to stay. The bedding ceremony follows soon after, yes?”

Jane squealed. “You unholy woman!”

You two broke off into fits of giggles and entirely unladylike banter. You did your very best to stay hushed, however, not wanting just anyone to hear the things you were saying about your betrothed. In fact, such talk was more suited for bedchambers and private groups – not the middle of dinner. You both got a few side eyes and raised eyebrows. Even your father gave you the look on two separate occasions. Whoops. Maybe the wine was affecting you more than you realized. Finishing the remainder of your food, you stood and walked to give your father’s cheek a goodnight kiss.

“Take some water and drink it before you fall asleep! You little wildling,” he called after you.

There was already a full pitcher of water in your bedchamber, but that didn’t stop Jane from grabbing an extra just in case.

By now you were both learning the halls of the Red Keep. The main hallways, that is. There was much more to the sprawling castle than you knew, and to say it was intimidating and overwhelming was an understatement. Thankfully – by the God's small graces – its main flow was easy enough to learn and navigate.

“When the castle was complete under King Maegor’s rule, he had all the builders executed to ensure only the Targaryen’s knew its hidden passages and secrets,” Aemond had told you during one of your earlier explorations of the castle. You hadn’t a reason to doubt him. But, even if you did, you knew in your bones he spoke the truth.

How different he was than any boy you knew from home. A true Targaryen from the blood of Old Valyria. You, naught but a sweet, delicate grape, held inside the claw of a mighty beast; how easily he could skin you whole. His steady eye observed you, studied you; the tips of his roughened fingers gingerly accepting your more forward affections so those tips might learn the utter softness of your flesh.

Inside your room you readied for sleep. "A bonfire on the beach in honor of the Arbor's celebration being prepared as we speak…," you spoke dreamily, eyes a little distant as you envisioned Aemond experiencing it for the first time.

Jane's delicate fingers loosened your day's braid before brushing any tangles out. "Surely you know the rumors of the prince…," she said, baiting you, arching a brow at you through the mirror.

"There's quite a few. You'll have to be more specific," you replied similarly.

"He doesn't dance! At all. The only dancing he's done is in the sky on his dragon. Or dancing with foes in the training yard and skirmishes."

You knew of these rumors, of course. "I suppose he'll need some practice before the wedding then, yes?"

Your best friend and lady-in-waiting smirked and rolled her eyes. "And I suppose you think you'll be the one to teach the tall lanky prince how to dance on a whim?"

"He's not lanky!"

You both laughed and continued the banter until you were dressed comfortably for bed. She bid you a goodnight and kiss on the forehead before leaving to retire to her own chamber. Sleep came easily that night. Sweet wine coated your palate and you dreamt of embers and jellyfish.

The sun barely lightened the sky when you woke. Perfect, you thought to yourself as you stretched with a wide yawn. Excitement pulled at your belly and before you knew it your bare feet padded across the chilly stone floor to your desk. You struck your candle to flame, dipped a quill into its inkpot, and began writing a letter to your soon to be husband. He'd written you many little letters since your arrival, and you'd yet to have one delivered to his room. Before losing inspiration, you wrote,

"My dearest Aemond,

Meet me down at the beach tonight. With it still being high summer the sun doesn't set until late. Please. You won't want to miss this.

Your Lady Redwyne"

Still in your nightgown with only a flimsy robe covering yourself, you cracked the door open and peered outside. Grinning, you hissed a careful whisper, "Louis! Psst, hey Lou!"

He perked up after the second call of his name. "My Lady? What is it? Is everything okay?" His armor clinked as he strode over to you quickly, kind eyes looking over you for any sign of distress. As soon as he saw your excited glimmer, however, his shoulders softened. "You're perky this morning."

"Take this to Prince Aemond! Please. Before he leaves his chamber for the day. It's important, hurry!" You put the carefully folded letter in his hand and shooed him off. "Thank you," you added before closing and latching the door again, trying to calm the excited wave of butterfly wings in your belly.

Tonight would be magical.

You dressed, braided your hair, donned some of your favorite gold jewelry, and applied perfume to the insides of your wrists, behind each ear, and at the center of your breast. You prayed for the hours to pass quickly as you applied makeup. Accentuating your features always made you feel pretty. There was an art to it too, you realized some years ago, in balancing hues and pigments to your natural skin without looking akin to someone from the theater. Like everything, it took practice. And you were happy with how your skills had grown. With one final tuck of hair here, and twist of hair there, you departed your bedchamber with confidence in your stride.

Breakfast. Going over more wedding plans. Tea and lunch with fellow ladies of the court. A break amidst the gardens. Supper. All without Aemond. The hours flew by and yet the day itself dragged. As soon as you were finished you made a sneaky escape to your horse in the stable. Before your father, or Louis, or even Jane knew what you were up to, you were off.

Please let Aemond make it. Please let Aemond make it. Please let Aemond make it, you said like a mantra to yourself in time with your horse’s pace. The mare wasn't easily spooked and quite prone to biting. It took you at least the first three days to gain her trust, and at least another two to make it so you could saddle and ride her without the assistance of a stable boy who’d been around her nearly his whole life. You pulled all the tricks: oats, apples, even carrots. Finally, after many suspicious huffing fits, the mean she-beasty warmed up to you. Now, she greeted you with happy whinnies and curious snufflings – she’d know if you came without a peace treaty and you weren’t about to try your luck with that yet.

The sun was perhaps two hours from setting when you made it down to the beach to begin collecting wood for a fire. The fresh salty air was warm and you were glad to have worn a thin dress with billowing accents. Waves continuously lapped at the shore and before too long you found yourself in a partial trance. Thoughts in your mind slowed and quieted, and for a moment the sand almost looked like the golden sand of which you were born to.

"My Lady Redwyne," Aemond's soft voice called from behind you. At least he had the decency to let his presence be known before merely arriving out of thin air like he usually did with you. He'd ditched his normal tunic and only wore his thin linen undershirt; its laces only partially tied to expose a tantalizing swath of his collar and chest. Leather in the summer heat could be unbearable and you were glad to see him in less clothing -- for wholly innocent and wholly impure reasons alike. "You picked a fine horse for the ride down here. I trust you have your dagger too?" He asked, eyeing you over approvingly and questioningly.

A smile curled up from your mouth and went right to your eyes. How you missed him. With his hair rippling in the wind, and his shirt giving sight to parts of himself that you'd yet to see, and the tiny pucker of his mischievous lips, a pang rang in your heart. How did you go so long without knowing him? Without being his betrothed? "Of course. I've not gone a single place without it since you gifted it to me in your secret place."

The space between you was closed by his long careful strides in the sand, and he wordlessly took the pile of driftwood from your arms. "There's my good girl. Where would you like these?"

Blushing, you pointed to the stack you'd been working on and said, "just there."

"What is it you're so excited to show me?" He asked once you both gently discarded the driftwood into the pile.

You began stacking it neatly, in the way your father taught you, to make a successful fire. "Every year, when the summers extend beyond one year, the Arbor has a celebration known as 'the dance of the moonlight jellies'," you said fondly, looking over to him with distant, happy eyes. "The final preparations would be happening now. It's always been my favorite celebration, and this is the first one I've ever missed."

Aemond listened curiously as he always did whenever you talked about things from home -- whether it be stories and myths, lore, architecture, or anything else. "Tell me about it, my Lady."

A wistful sigh escaped your lungs. "On the western part of the island, out into the Sunset Sea, there is a breed of jellyfish who migrate along our coastline. We build bonfires along the beach and out on the docks as far as we can. These jellies are special because they glow," you smiled, movements continuing on muscle memory as you struck a fire to life. "They make the water look as if a hundred thousand fires were beneath the surface. Everyone from the highest houses down to the most rugged Flowers join together for the night. We sing, and dance, and drink spiced wine." By now your own little fire was coming more and more to life. "All while they slowly drift along with the ocean's current." By the end of the explanation you were sitting and beginning to work your shoes off your feet.

All the while, Aemond listened and imagined such a thing even happening. There was nothing like that around here. He never journeyed far from home for too long either, for his princely and second son's duties kept him tied down to King's Landing -- more specifically, the court of the Red Keep -- with a short leash. The more he learned from you, the more he realized he truly knew nothing of the Arbor. "Everyone? The nobles and the bastards?"

"Yes, my prince. All is cast aside for the night. It is truly that important to the people and tradition."

Golden sun washed over the young prince as he looked out to the ocean. Pensive. A few moments of silence followed as you both quietly observed the continuous lap of waves. When he turned his attention back to you his pupil was so small from the sun that the lilac of his iris was all you could see. "I would fly you there tonight if things were different in our world, now."

Guilt rushed to your throat. "Oh, Aemond, no. That is not what I meant by any of this," you said with meaning as you found yourself straddling over his lap with his lovely sharp face between your hands. "I am sad to miss it, yes, of course. But that is why I'm here now. And that is why I wanted you to join me here and now too, so I could share this special time with you." You gently pressed your forehead to his, the tip of your nose fitting against his bridge. A soft smile pulled on your lips when his mouth brushed yours in a whispering kiss.

Lips led to tongues, and soon to teeth, and Aemond's hands traced along your hips and waist all the while. Goosebumps tickled your skin despite the warmth of the air and fire. The press of his hands, the weight of them, had you panting against his mouth. Leaning back, he grinned slyly. "Let us stop before we cannot." He gave your hip a firm squeeze before slowly, slowly, letting go of you against him.

"I want so badly to be your wife...," you whispered sincerely. "Before, though, there is one more thing I need to share with you." Heat crept into your face, yet this blush had nothing to do with the coil of arousal in your belly and all to do with the humiliation in which you were going to show your soon to be husband.

Confusion and worry instantly shifted his features. "What is it, sweetling?"

Emotion welled in your eyes and it took a great deal of strength to not let tears fall from your clumpy eyelashes. "Promise you won't change your mind about me either?"

He ran a thumb across your freckled cheek. Your sweet doe-brown eyes ripped at his heart. "I promise."

You offered a soft sad smile before carefully moving from atop his lap. Shifting, you instead sat between his legs with your own outstretched before both of you. You pulled your legs up at the knee so your feet were flat and fully exposed for both of your visions. On each foot, the second and third toe were fully fused together, and a small webbing of skin connected the base of all your toes together. Without looking over your shoulder to Aemond, you explained, "it is a bad omen." As if he wasn't connecting the dots you pointed out your deformity. "Akin to your eye it is a cloak of shame for me. In our mythos it is said it only happens to those who had a twin in the womb... but ended up killing the twin. It is said we are cursed, for we are bloodthirsty like sharks. Only the strongest survive. So we are born with these to let everyone know we are capable of kinslaying as only babes."

Aemond pushed his fingers against the side of your jaw so you were forced to look back at him. His face was somehow soft and stern alike. "Then you are my bloodthirsty little babe. Dragons do not share their egg with another dragon. If the mythos is true, then you are the strongest. And it was you who was born for a reason." He kissed you again, fiercer, this time, and the salt of your tears clung to his tongue.

The sun's golden rays disappeared beyond the curve of the ocean and a spill of reds, oranges, and pinks filled the sky instead. "Dance with me, Aemond. I don't care if you don't know how to. No one is around to see. It can be another one of our secrets," you forced a tiny laugh through the emotion which swelled your throat. You smiled, genuine, and helped him stand.

There were no drums, nor string instruments, nor anything else but the rolling roars of waves as you and Aemond danced beneath the growing moonlight with only your fire as witness.

The following morning you were surprised to see everyone already at the table eating. Aegon, Helaena, their children, Alicent, Otto, Aemond, and your father. Happiness filled in your chest at the idea of sharing a meal with Aemond – he’d been so busy you two hadn’t been afforded the luxury for what seemed days. You and Jane shared a little look as you strolled to the empty seat next to your betrothed. Polite greetings filled the table. It all looked and smelled wonderful.

“Good morning, my prince. Is there an occasion I’m unaware of?” you asked as you began dishing up. Ever since you could remember you were always most hungry in the mornings.

“Good timing on everyone’s part, I’m assuming.”

Beneath the table, he bumped his leg against yours and gave you a half-sly side glance. Manners were important to him, and sharing a table with so many kin meant his bump, and his face, was likely all the flirting that would happen this morn.

It didn’t go unnoticed by you nor the King. Where you smiled coyly and shared the look with Aemond, Aegon snorted. “I forgot to ask, brother, did you and Lady Redwyne enjoy your little adventure out to your rock? I heard she had sweet little bruises all over her tender flesh that night. I don’t blame you for not wanting to wait. She’s supple as any peach,” he said brazenly, finishing the remainder of his wine in a single gulp. “More,” he said to everyone and no one alike. Holding his goblet out to be refilled, he chuckled and flashed his best smile to you. Judging by the glaze over his eyes, and the dark circles beneath them, this wasn’t the first cup of wine he’d had.

You tensed. Aemond tensed. At your side, and beneath the table too, Jane gripped your hand tightly. Lord Redwyne glared at King Aegon but dared not say anything – at least not yet – in fear of what the drunken King might do.

“Aegon Targaryen!” Alicent hissed to her oldest son, dark eyes blazing. “King or no, that is extremely inappropriate. How dare you speak to your brother and future sister-in-law in such a way in front of everyone!”

“What? I’m only expressing my happiness to my little brother for finally getting it wet. And with a girl so pretty too. Prettier than any whore I’ve seen.”

Jane squeezed your hand hard as Aemond’s and your father’s chair toppled backwards with the ferocity in which they stood.

“Says the man who took me to a brothel when I was only three and ten–”

“King or not I will not sit here and let some boy talk about my daughter in such a manner you insolent–”

Aemond’s voice and Lord Redwyne’s voice boomed into one, their words meshing in a mess of hollars as Alicent joined in the scolding. Polished silver clattered loudly and silently alike onto the stone floor. Who had thrown it?

You were struck dumb. If this is what broke out during an otherwise ordinary meal, what happened behind closed doors? During small council meetings? Stress weighed on the entire kingdom and the family before you bore the bulk of it. Everyone’s nerves hung by a thread: a thread which could be snapped as easily as a dried twig by a stupidly careless remark. Embarrassment burned your face and hot tears threatened to spill from your welling eyes. This was nothing short of a nightmare and you wanted nothing more than to disappear.

Your ears muffled as if you were under water. You weren't sure how much time had passed. Even Otto stood, his voice adding to the yelling.

“Come, Princess Emeline,” Helaena’s soothing voice whispered delicately against your ear. Her hand, beautifully pale and impossibly soft, grabbed for your own and pulled you from your chair amidst the yelling. She ushered you away. Crimson wine dripped onto the floor from where it was spilled atop the table.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” you stammered, frantically swiping tears from your cheeks.

“I am sorry for the way my husband is acting. If I am to be honest… we received extremely troubling news about Rhaenyra and Daemon this morning. Even if no one will admit it, this war has everyone scared.”

Despite the meaning of her words, she, outwardly, seemed calm.

Not having anything intelligent to say, you squeezed her hand reassuringly. No one followed you ladies out. At a glance, it appeared guards were watching and taking note of your movements through the halls. Helaena turned here, and there, and before you knew it you were standing out by the weirwood. It loomed tall and wide. It cast a shadow of mysticism. Tranquility. For the first time since arriving in the dining hall you breathed a true lungful of air. And then another.

"You are a strong swimmer, and Aemond a strong flier. Both, and more, will be required in the coming time," Helaena spoke dreamily as she led you to an ancient camellia tree. "Two fruits of one, and one of two," she continued to muse aloud. She laid back in the vibrant petals fallen amongst the grass, and you followed along. "Have you ever noticed how red this camellia is? It hardly seems real."

Your vision turned from her to the tree. Leaves of green and flowers of red contrasted starkly against the blue morning sky. A breeze moved through the air and a petal slowly fell to land on the center of your abdomen. "I've never seen one this size before," you said in the serene quietness. Comfort seeped into your bones as you watched fluffy clouds drift across the sky.

A thin long legged spider crawled across Helaena’s outstretched hand. She watched the tiny creature as if it were the most magnificent thing. “You make my brother happy. Thank you for that, princess,” she said, not taking her attention away from the spider. “He bears much and carries more.”

Helaena’s words sent something like love fluttering in your belly as you regarded the gentle far-seeing Queen. Her white hair fanned around her head like a halo on the crimson petals; violet eyes distant and unfocused. “Thank you, Your Grace,” is all you replied, not wanting to break her other-worldly concentration.

She continued to mutter quiet things about: from two to one, moving shadows, and cracked shells.

Tranquil minutes passed. You became lost in the garden of your mind.

“My Lady…,” Aemond’s voice broke through your reverie. “I apologize for what happened.” He extended a hand to you, silently offering to help you up from the grass. “Allow me to take you to your chambers?”

You nodded and accepted his hand. “Yes, please,” you said as you stood and brushed any debris or wrinkles from your dress. Emotion swelled up from your diaphragm to the back of your throat and it took a steadying breath, or three, to push it down. Stress and tension simmered inside you and it threatened to boil over.

“Thank you, sweet sister, for getting her away,” Aemond said. Helaena only briefly regarded him and offered a short wave.

Aemond held you close as you both walked the halls to your bedchamber. Beneath the scents of smoke (which clung so close to him you swore it seeped from his own pores), leather, and bathing oils, he smelled like clean sweat. It wasn’t at all unpleasant. If anything it made you want to bury your face into his neck and not come out for hours. Hurt weighed on your heart.

You missed home. You missed the sense of normalcy you'd known your whole life. So many things were different here. You clung to Jane when you could, and even grounded yourself to Louis, and of course found comfort in your father. Thank the Seven they were all here. If they weren't, you might very well have turned around in Blackwater Bay as soon as you arrived.

Here, now, you clung to Aemond. Your prince who regarded you with compassion, curiosity, and gentleness, so unlike the way you'd seen him interact with anyone else. It only made you want to draw those tender moments out from him more.

"Aegon is vile. And an idiot," he said as soon as your chamber door was securely shut. You stood facing each other in the gentle sunbeams of your quarter; still somewhat bare and lacking your personal touch. "He is drunk but that is no excuse for him to behave in the way he did. Are you alright?" Both his hands cupped your face in reverence, his single eye peering between both of yours as if deciphering your thoughts like scrawled words on parchment.

Hesitation hung in the air before you nodded. "Yes, I'm alright, my pr-, Aemond," you caught his title before it fell from your lips, whispering his name instead.

"Your Aemond. You are correct, princess," he smiled and tipped his head down to meet your lips in a tender kiss. "No harm will come to you whether it be from my kin or enemy alike. Do you understand me? As my betrothed, and even more so once you are my wife." His gaze was only sharp, now, face stern, lacking any of its previous softness.

Searching his features and posture, you, once again, hesitated before asking in a voice that could have been lost in a space any louder than the one you currently shared, "you promise?"

"I promise."

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow and/or reblog and/or letting me know! It would make me vvvery happy ♥ See you in chapter 5 where there will be wedding bells!

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#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fic #aemond imagine

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some-pers0n · 6 months

Text

Reading through scenes with Albatross in them, so you know what that means!! Note time!! Time to take notes about Albatross, with little sprinkles of Fathom and Lagoon.

This is a post literally only meant for me. I'm. yeah. If I ever rip it out of my drafts it's gonna be because: "Wowie you think the other dragon likers will enjoy this as well?" It's not going to be coherent at all, switching from bullet points to full on tangents. I'll eventually shorten it down to something more compact and easier to comprehend, perhaps with a character sheet for Albatross with a detailed personality section.

With that being said, lets read.

Chapter 1

Chapter where Fathom learns that he's a magic guy. Okie.

First note is entirely off-topic, but I really do love Indigo and Fathom's interactions. They're so sweet.

Lagoon's first introduction already paints her as ominous and foreboding, comparing her rising out of the sea like "a sinister iceberg". Iceberg flipping videos are spooky to me, so yeah that makes sense. Either way, it establishes her character to be one that's antagonistic, with the use of the phrase "stalked slowly up to the beach" in the next sentence making it very firm that she's not exactly a dragon we like.

Lagoon's literally beefing with a child. God I hate her so much,, I love her <333

Interesting use of the titled "most respected dragon in the Sea Kingdom" to describe Albatross. I like that it implies that Albatross is viewed more highly than even Queen Lagoon (which isn't too high of a bar to clear, but ehh). He's beloved by the kingdom. He's their first animus.

Odd to describe his expression as "suspicious" here. I like thinking that he looks like a generic evil cartoon villain/anti-semite stereotype here. The next sentence describing him with a hooked snout doesn't help.

Curious that he would complain about the TOP ceremony here. I get it's for exposition, but I find it interesting. He doesn't see a point in the exam. It's a waste of time to him and the others. He says that, if they were an animus, they would've figured it out by now.

Lagoon on the other hand wants to use this exam to weed out the animus dragons quickly. She wants another animus so she can use them in case the RainWings or MudWings try to do anything fishy, saying that they've been acting up. She views animus dragons less like actual people and more like tools for either how own vanity projects or for war.

^ Something very compelling to me here is how she uses she/her pronouns to refer to this imaginary animus they'll discover. Why does she do that? That's...quite odd. Does she want Pearl to be the animus? Strange.

Lagoon once again uses the Sapphire incident as leverage over Albatross. This is our first introduction scene to these characters and we've established that Lagoon is antagonistic and kind of a prick. She reminds Albatross of this without batting an eye. I like to personally think that she isn't as bothered by the mauling of her sister as Albatross is. Albatross was traumatized by the event and the guilt of it all has followed with him for his entire life. Lagoon on the other hand doesn't exactly seem too bothered with the idea of bringing it up just to remind Albatross about what he's done, reminding him that, no matter what he does, he destroyed Sapphire's life.

Albatross shows his disdain for being used as a tool for Lagoon. He's given her everything she wants, yet she does not feel fully satisfied with it. He also mentions he does not want an apprentice. Headcanon: I think Albatross isn't fond of the idea of having an apprentice because he kinda just hates the concept of Lagoon having another animus to look after. Honestly? I fully believe that if Fathom discovered his magic on his own time and approached Albatross privately about it, Albatross would've trained him but he would INSIST that he NEVER tell Lagoon about it. He doesn't want to doom another dragon to his fate.

!! Lagoon reacts to this aggressively. She hisses and snarls at him over this slight resistance. It shows that she's not one for the idea of Albatross ever standing up for himself. It's never been about what Albatross wants. He's barely even a dragon in her eyes. He's just a breathing wish-making device that looks ugly as hell to her.

Albatross submits. Headcanon: I think Albatross is always anxious and tries controlling himself constantly because he doesn't want to hurt Lagoon the same way he did with Sapphire. It's...very hard not to, though...

I like thinking that Albatross did the coconut thing because he was so confident that there wouldn't be an animus dragons. I also like thinking that he thought it would be something to entertain the dragonets. Like...imagine being nine or something and you're told you could hit the Pope with a basketball if you just yell at the ball. Silly.

^ Also in the Guide, Albatross says it's much easier and a lot more safe to enchant a coconut to float or something. It characterizes him as actually caring about the safety of the tribe and putting in far more thought and care into the exams than Lagoon ever could.

Albatross is bored by doing these tests. Fathom is amazed however by simply watching the coconut fly over to him.

^ Interestingly, Fathom is spooked and scared. He's unsure if the test will hurt him. He's anxious that, somehow, Albatross has enchanted the coconuts to react if somebody touched it.

"Wouldn't it just be easier to throw it at you?" BWAHWHUDHAIDUH-- INDIGO AHHHH

^ Albatross laughs at this. He's amused by the response, finding humour in such a simple question. Silly guy.

Interesting note of animus magic here is that you have to command something to do what you want. You don't ask it. You order it. Fascinating.

BONK!!

IT BROKE BONES??? I mean, obviously. It's a giant dense coconut flying at him at the speed of a bullet. Of course.

Pearl you goddamn rat.

HAHAHAHAHAH OH MY GODDDDDD how could people read this book without understanding that Lagoon is clearly evil and Wrong? "You are going to do such great things for m- for your tribe" AHAHAHHA

^ Actually obsessed with how shitty the royal SeaWing family is. That's such a silly thing of Tui to do.

Albatross is happy!! Again, going back to that headcanon I talked about, I think Albatross would like to train Fathom, but rather he doesn't want to be replaced or to sentence Fathom to a life of constantly serving a bitchy queen. That's something to worry about later. For now, everything is happy and nice.

Chapter 3

Private magic lessons with grandpapa.

I actually adore Indigo and Fathom oh my goddd they're so sweet...

Really love the interactions here. It's quite fun and goofy between all of the characters.

Fathom listened to Albatross's wishes to have him save his animus magic. Albatross knows the dangers that animus magic holds, and Fathom wants to listen to his grandpapa. Fathom really does look up to and love Albatross. He's so sweet and untraumatized <3

HANDWRITING!!! USE OF THE WORD HAND!!! NOT TALON!! HAND!!!!!

I always forget the Island Palace was a thing and the massacre wasn't at the Summer Palace you mean to tell me that this bitch needed THREE palaces????? One of which only really existing as a means for PARTIES??? Gott DAMN Lagoon chill out.

^ Fuck it. Headcanon: Albatross lives at the Island Palace. Yeah yeah it's mostly used for parties and for political diplomats to sleep, but GOD I don't think Albatross could stand to live in the same palace as Lagoon. How about Albatross lived there with his wife and raised his kids there? Now he lives there alone. Boo hoo. He's the host whenever guests come to visit. He gets pissy that his house basically becomes a nightmareish party hellscape whenever his sister comes over.

^^ It's also pretty and I think Albatross would like it.

Albatross drags Fathom to the beach where he first discovered animus magic so he could really drill it in just how fucked up animus magic is. Epic.

Albatross is silly and goofy!! He is happy and having fun and is excited to teach Fathom the ways of being a wizard. Fathom inversely is so inexperienced and gullible. Silly guy.

Something to note: So far, Albatross really hasn't been talked about like he's...stern or rude. He's only bothered by Lagoon's antics and demands. I think he's a fairly good and friendly dragon, but it just extremely annoyed by Lagoon (completely understandable)

GOD he's full of so much whimsy and joy. He's so silly. I love this little guy (I am talking about an old traumatized dragon)

Fathom describes this interaction as being new and slightly odd, as Albatross was always seen as some distant and powerful figure. A dragon of importance that was always too busy. He was always nice and friendly, but never exactly...there. Now? He gets to see how he really is: SILLY!!!

Further showing how much Albatross is having fun via by describing him jumping into the ocean with him "splashing into the sea".

Lagoon requested Albatross show Fathom the palace just in-case Albatross dies before it's finished. Now, I know I'm biased, but from how things happen later on, I feel Lagoon was plotting to dispose of Albatross the moment Fathom was discovered to be an animus. She wanted Fathom to pick up where Albatross left off. Fathom would be a new, better, more presentable animus.

^ Albatross doesn't know about this plot, so he goes along with it. He's excited to teach Fathom!!

Again, Albatross shows that he's a lot more considerate and aware. He's cautious and thoughtful. He purposefully stretches out the creation of the Summer Palace so that it doesn't cause any damage to the ecosystem.

Fathom stfu your gandpapa cares about the environment. He didn't mess up the spell, he just didn't want the ocean to explode or whatever.

Albatross is supportive of Fathom's idea to create a cover of leaves over the Summer Palace, but this is where Albatross gets serious and tells Fathom he needs to think and plot out his spells. Albatross does not want Fathom to use up his soul carelessly or to make rash and impulsive choices without thinking them through clearly. I think this fear of Fathom misusing his magic was instilled by, again, the Sapphire incident. He doesn't want Fathom to follow in his footsteps.

TRAUMA STORY TIME!!!

Albatross is obviously telling this story to Fathom as a) exposition for his backstory and b) to tell Fathom that he needs to be careful with his magic. It is not a toy. It is a powerful, dangerous force.

Fathom is hopeful and still thinks Albatross isn't really capable of harm as he assumes that his first enchantment was something grand and wonderful.

Literally how does anybody read this and come away thinking that Lagoon was entirely innocent here. Fathom literally reflects on Albatross's comment on them doing "normal brother-sister teasing", which is Sapphire and Lagoon coming down and bullying him until he snapped back at them. Fathom is like: "...I don't think that's normal brother-sister teasing, grandpapa."

AUGHHHH LAGOON YOU'RE THE WORST,,, classist loser. Treating Indigo badly and saying that, by keeping her around, they're "coddling the lower class". She obviously views herself as being better and superior to common SeaWings.

Sapphire and Lagoon are the worst. "Everything you have will be mine when I'm queen" ughhhhh

Such a terrible event shaped Albatross in a way that cannot fully be described. It scarred him. It was the first time he had used his magic, and it was to harm his sister. It was a simple mistake, yet he can never live it down. He blames himself for it. Lagoon on the other hand uses it as a means to control him. Manipulate his trauma and guilt-trips him into doing what she wants.

I blame TF2 for making me have a knee-jerk reaction to the word "spy". Albatross literally saying "a spy?" when he notices Indigo watching them made me think of the french guy.

Aww,,,Blob....

Chapter 6

oh no

Lagoon is becoming more rude towards Indigo since Fathom was revealed to be an animus. Again, she hates how she had a commoner dragon frolicking around with royals.

Lagoon more or less hosts these parties as vanity projects for her to show off everything grand about her (which was basically done by Albatross after she manipulated him into using his magic). I'm willing to bet she doesn't care really at all about what happens from a political standpoint, so long as she's known as some grand and glorious queen.

Fathom mentions that Lagoon is "skilled with diplomatic meets" because she has the power of an animus behind her. Again, she mostly relies on Albatross and his magic to be feared.

Fathom wearing jewelry that also matches the stuff Albatross wears. I wonder if that was set up by Lagoon.

IT'S BEEN THREE YEARS SINCE THE TEST?? Okey then.

These Fathigo moments are melting my heart. Tui....

BWAHAHWHAHUWDHAIWUHAI--- I always forget how charming and silly these books are. Ahhhh this is so cute and fun.

Blah blah blah let us get back to old murder man. It's THE chapter after all.

So after three years, Albatross is still too spooked to let Fathom do more than basic spells. Is he fearful? Perhaps at this point he knows about Lagoon's plot to replace him and wants to live longer. It's hard to tell. Three years is a large timeskip. A lot could happen in that gap.

I think Albatross has become a lot more...quiet and estranged since then. He completely erased the work that Fathom had made. He's a bit more erratic. If there's one thing I wish we got, it would be a better explanation for this. Something HAD to have happened in order for him to have a personality shift like this.

He's described as being unexcited when they finally completed the palace. Perhaps this was the moment. I think that, yeah, Albatross figured out that his time is up. He's going to die. Lagoon is probably going to kill him off and replace him with Fathom. I headcanon that Lagoon killed Albatross's wife, which he probably could've figured out by now as well, so him finally completing the palace would mean he's obsolete. He's finished. There's no use for him anymore. He'll be disposed.

I don't think he planned the massacre. It was rather him finally reaching a breakpoint and going "fuck it, if I'm dying tonight, I'm taking down as many other dragons as I can". He would've been repulsed by the idea, but at this point he just straight up doesn't care. I think when he first approached Lagoon he wanted to sort things out with her, but as it became increasingly obvious that she was going to be unreasonable, he just pulled out the knife and dealt with her himself.

I hate you Lagoon.

There's no real point in me describing this part. It's Lagoon just basically showing off Albatross's creations to the very-not-okay-with-animus-dragons SkyWing royals. Her head is so far up her own ass she just doesn't care.

Big fight happens.

The reactions from the other dragons are interesting. Manta, Splash, and Reef all react with anxiety and tense up. They know that Albatross isn't in a Good Mood, or perhaps they are a little aware that Albatross is going to be disposed of and Lagoon is practically throwing rocks at the bear now. No longer is she poking the bear with a stick. She's pretty much just hurling rocks and telling it that she's going to kill it.

Definitely when I rewrite this scene it's gonna be a lot more dramatic. I mean, it's the climax of Albatross's story. The big moment everyone knows. It deserves to be slightly more bombastic than this.

KNIFE!!!

Chapter 8

Still endlessly amused by there being a Clearsight chapter right before this.

Murder dragon becomes murder dragon chapter, lets go.

Straight up doesn't care anymore. Again, like I said before, I think he wants to go out with a bang. Headcanon: I don't think Albatross was at all content with how his life went. Yeah, he's the most respected dragon in the tribe, but at the cost of being a little pet for his sister to boss around. At this point he is Done with everything. Its gone fully into a manic episode.

^ Something like this as well, I don't think he liked the parties at all. Circling back into the Island Palace being his home, he hates his house basically being turned into a playground for Lagoon to show off. I also think he just generally doesn't like parties because they're loud and bother him. I'm 100% adding in my animus curse headcanon into this winglet, so with the added bonus of him being sensitive to sound it makes him yearn for peace and quiet. He's just getting that wish in a bloody and brutal way.

Interesting that Fathom tries DEFENDING Albatross even after he's fully aware that he killed Lagoon on purpose and is going after the SkyWings. He's in denial. He still loves his grandpapa and doesn't want to think he would actually do any of this. If he did, it was for a good reason, right? He would stop soon, right?

MANTA NO NONONONON NOOOOOO OH MY GOD NOOO THIS IS SO SAD NOONONONONOOO Manta is Albatross's daughter, by the way. She's trying to reason with her father.

Finally the realization is beginning to set into Fathom that, yeah, his grandpapa is going to kill everyone.

Ouughhhhh I wish Tui did more horrific moments like this. Having Albatross come into the room and act all like a horror monster is so good. She's really good with writing tension in these scenes. Love it.

Interesting that Albatross would point out Fathom's lack of an imagination of all things. Perhaps he's reaching for straws for anything that makes him better than Fathom. Reasons for why he should've been seen as a good and worthy animus.

Again, with Albatross mentioning here how he wants to kill Fathom up close, it's less about the killing them to him. It's the joy and release from watching the life drain from their eyes. To finally show how powerful he is. To show that he deserves to be seen as powerful and more than just a lapdog for Lagoon.

^ Albatross also sees Fathom as the reason for Lagoon disposing him. Albatross blames Fathom for it. If it wasn't for Fathom, he could've lived on with his miserable existence for a while longer. Maybe he could've shown Lagoon what he thought of her then.

Annnddd Albatross is dead within like two paragraphs. Yippeee.

Honestly if I'm doing this I'm giving his ass a Breaking Bad ending with him managing to live on and limp over to a place that's important to him before dying. RIP bozo.

#wof #wings of fire #albatross wof #long post #save #ref #sp-rambles

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