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rileyslibrary · 1 year

Note

hello! absolutely love your blog <3!! just thought i could share since idk who else to dump my ghost infested brain.. but lately i’ve been brainrotting for fluffy and domestic ghost hh something about helping him shave in the morning before cooking breakfast together and just lazing around in the afternoon drives me insane

Lazy Sunday with Simon

A/N: I got this ask before I decided to turn off the anon option for a while! I’ll let you know when I turn it back on :) There’s more A/N at the end; meet me there!

———————————————————————

He usually wakes up at 6 a.m., regardless of the day of the week. You’ve always marvelled at this trait, secretly envious of his ability to jump out of bed immediately. You wonder if he’s a morning person by nature or if his past military training instilled this reflex. Regardless, you rarely wake up at the same time. And on the rare occasion that you do so, he’s eager to get up as soon as possible, as though laying in bed simply served his survival needs for sleep and nothing else.

But today is different. It’s almost 9 a.m., and you sit on your shared bed, watching him sleep. His chest rises and falls, and you mimic his breath, momentarily experiencing life from his perspective.

As you shuffle to retrieve something from your bedside drawer, he stirs and wakes up.

“Shit!” He curses, shooting up like a spring.

“Simon,” you say to him, your hand halfway to the drawer, “it’s Sunday.”

He checks his phone to confirm your statement, then sighs. Rubbing his eyes, he turns to look at you.

“Good morning,” he says sheepishly.

“Morning,” you respond with a chuckle.

He crawls over to your side of the bed and kisses your lips.

“You, sir, need a shave,” you tease, gesturing to his stubble.

He rubs his chin. “I do, don’t I?” he admits, rising from the bed and heading to the bathroom.

You hear the sound of the toilet flushing, the faucet running, and teeth brushing, followed by a silence that makes you tune in. You can listen to him unscrewing the cap of his shaving cream, whistling as he applies it to his face.

You rise from the bed and enter the bathroom. Simon catches your eye in the mirror’s reflection and raises an eyebrow.

“This room ain’t big enough for the both of us,” he quips, mimicking Nick Grindell from The Western Code.

You smile and press against his back, wrapping your arms around him. “Looks like there’s enough room now,” you say playfully.

He resumes shaving, and you watch him closely; tiny strokes with the razor, then a rinse and repeat.

“Can I try?” you ask, and he stops mid-stroke to look at you.

“I don’t know, can you?” he teases.

“I’ve shaved my legs before,” you reply.

“Exactly,” he emphasizes, “your legs, not my face.” But he hands you the razor anyway and instructs you on how to proceed.

You seem to be doing fine until he suddenly jerks back from the razor and lets out a yell. You panic, but he quickly bursts out laughing.

“Asshole!” you exclaim. “I thought I cut you!”

“That was the point, love,” he chuckles. “You should have seen your face.”

“And you should have seen your face if I had actually cut you!” you quip, brandishing the razor in mock threat.

No matter how long you two live together, he remains his old, caustic self. He is kind and gentle, except when pulling one of his “jokes.” You’ve had to learn to adapt to his sense of humour.

You announce that you’d go to the kitchen to get breakfast started while he keeps on shaving, and he gives you a thumbs up.

———————————————————————

As the kettle on the stove begins to whistle, you deftly mix the pancake batter. He approaches you and stands beside you, watching you whisk.

“You shouldn’t be doing that,” he comments, gesturing towards the bowl.

“Whisking batter?” you question, eyebrows raised.

“You shouldn’t be doing pancakes in general,” he elaborates, lifting his shirt to reveal a hint of a soft belly. “Look.” He says and gives it a slap.

He has put on some weight after leaving the army, but this didn’t bother you as much as it bothered him. The weight gain was not the real issue but rather a manifestation of how he felt - insignificant. He didn’t talk about it directly, but it showed up in other ways. Mumbling to himself while watching the news, for example, reciting what his team would have done differently in that case. Or by reflecting on how he could have helped in recent disasters while discussing with your friends. In this case, it manifested in the form of fishing for compliments.

“You look fine.” You comment, but he rolls his eyes.

“No, I don’t,” he says, “stop lying.”

“Hey,” you wave the whisk at his face, “I never lie, ok?”

He shoots his arms in the air. “First the razor, now the whisk,” he says, “you’re too aggressive today, don’t you think?”

“I like you, no matter what. Understood?” You keep threatening him, and, with a manoeuvre, he takes the whisk off your hands to continue the mixing.

You prepare the table, and he serves the pancakes he cooked. You both sit down at the table, enjoying your breakfast. As you eat, your mind keeps going back to your previous conversation.

“Hey, I was thinking,” you say between bites. “There’s a veterans’ group in town that meets every week. Maybe you could check it out?”

He looks up from his plate and then shakes his head. “No,” he states.

“Why not?” You ask, “it could be good for you to connect with other veterans and share your experiences rather than arguing with the TV.”

He keeps staring at you, and you’re unsure if he feels exposed or contemplates your idea.

“There are other people like you, Simon,” you explain, “good people who went through similar things.”

He shrugs and takes another bite. “What do they do in that group?” He asks.

“I don’t know,” you reply, “but I can find out if you want.”

“No,” he shakes his head, “I’ll do that.”

You smile. “That’s great,” you say, relieved, “I think it could really help you.”

He nods and takes another bite. The two of you continue eating and talking, enjoying the simple pleasure of a warm, late breakfast.

———————————————————————

You both lay sprawled on your living room couch. You’re glued to the TV, binging on the new season of “Love is Blind,” while he lies next to you, engrossed in a book.

You notice his eyes flickering towards the screen occasionally, but he tries to hide it. You catch him peeking again and can’t resist poking fun at him.

“Interested, I see?” You ask with a smirk.

“What the fuck is that?” he asks you back with a sneer.

“It’s a reality show,” you explain, gesturing towards the screen. “People date each other in these rooms called ‘pods’ without seeing each other.”

“Huh,” Simon scoffs, “and how do they meet?”

“One proposes, and if the other accepts, they finally meet.”

He puts down his book, stares at the screen, and then back at you.

“Like a marriage proposal?” He asks with raised eyebrows, and you nod.

“You’re kidding,” he states in disbelief.

“No,” you shake your head, giggling, “I’m afraid I’m not.”

He opens up his book again and shakes his head. “What a load of bullshit,” he grumbles.

But as the episodes keep rolling, you can see his resistance slowly crumbling. His book is closed for good now and placed on the side table next to him. “What a load of bullshit” has now turned into “what a fucking nob head!” and “can you believe them?!”

And as the day turns into dusk and the marathon draws ungracefully to an end, he waves his finger at the TV.

“Put the next episode!” he orders.

“It’s not aired yet.”

Simon’s face contorts into a look of pure shock and horror, and you stifle a laugh.

“You can’t be serious, love!” he yells. “When are the next ones supposed to be aired?”

“In two weeks, Si-”

“TWO WEEKS?” he exclaims in a high-pitched voice. “What are we supposed to do for two weeks?!”

“There are three more seasons before this o- “

“Now!” He commands, slapping the cushion with enthusiasm. “Put. The first. Season. Now!”

———————————————————————

Hey, sweet person who requested this and fellow readers! 🍫 Hope you enjoyed it! Maybe I got Simon a little out of character with the “Love Is Blind” scene, but I saw a similar TikTok/IG Reel (I can’t remember where exactly) and instantly thought of him. So I wanted to include it! Also, my stupid ass kept writing “whisker” instead of “whisk” until I thought to google it. Glad I did.

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nonbinaryeggrolls · 5 months

Text

When Someone Tries to Touch Your Hair

JJK men x gn black!reader

I had this idea for a little while and I absolutely love it. As someone who has to literally fight off ppl with a stick to keep them from basically "petting" me, I thought it would be so cute to write about the JJK men sticking up for you

Warnings: Fluff!, no nsfw but MINORS ARE STILL NOT ALLOWED GO AWAY, angst in Gojo's, specified braids/locs/twists in Toji's, unwanted physical touch, I think that's it!

Starring: Nanami Kento, Toji Fushiguro, Gojo Satoru

MINORS DNI. AGELESS AND MINOR BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

Nanami Kento

Of course he remains calm, he's always calm. but trust, inside he is BOILING with anger

Kento adores your hair, it sounds weird but he loves watching you on wash day care and tend to your hair with such detail and precision. Apart of it is so he can learn to do it himself one day so you won't have to spend so much time doing it yourself

He's always buying the best products for you no matter how expensive he knows black hair care products can be.

Design Essentials, Creme of Nature, Mielle, jojoba oil, tea tree oil, hair masks, curling cream-- you name it (or even glance at it in the store) he's already bought it for you

So seeing someone disrespect you by even attempting to touch you makes him absolutely livid

Kento: "I don't know I didn't think it was all that great, the plot didn't really make a lot of sense." Kento said as you two walked out the doors of the movie theater.

Y/N: "What?! I thought it was good, you're always hating on superhero movies you're like an old person. Oh! the boba place closes at 9:30 did you still wanna--

"Oh my gosh I just have to ask who does your hair? It's so pretty!" A young woman around your age popped up from behind you guys, her intensity kind of startling you a little bit

Y/N: "Oh, thank you that's so sweet! I actually do it myself" you smiled and she looked at you in astonishment

"Really? Wow it looks like it was done by a professional, I bet it takes you so long!"

Kento's eyebrow raise and body stiffen in an almost defensive way, he was already anticipating what was coming next

Y/N: "Yeah, sometimes it can. It kind of just depends on how tired I am that d--

Your body leaned back as she reached out to grab the top of your head. Kento wrapped his arm around you and pulled you back by your shoulders, shooting daggers at the woman as if she had just committed an unforgivable act

Kento: "Please step back. You don't need to touch them to compliment them." he reprimanded and held a firmer grip on your shoulder. He wasn't going to yell at a woman he didn't know but he sure as hell was going to get his point across

"O-oh Im sorry I didn't mean anything by it. I just think it looks really ni--

Kento: "Then you can think it's nice from a distance, they're not a dog. Have a good night." Kento intwined your hand in his and led you away to the car. You looked up at him and a small grin grew across your face

Kento: "Don't look at me like that."

Y/N: "You're like a guard dog. Like a snappy little golden retriever." you giggled before planting a kiss on his jaw which he returned with one on the top of your head

Kento: "Cmon lets go get boba."

Toji Fushiguro

Rage, Rage, and more RAGE

The anger that fills this mans body when someone tries to touch you is immeasurable, ESPECIALLY if its a man

Sometimes you have to calm Toji down when someone tries but its no use, he's already out of his seat and practically ready to kill

Toji is definitely someone who values his personal space, so he completely understood your frustration when you talked about how crazy it is that some people think its okay to try and touch you without permission

He's only seen it happen a few times, thankfully most people had common sense. But there was always that one asshole that crosses the line

You and Toji were out on a late night supply run getting items for Megumis science fair project. You roamed through the aisles of the arts and craft store filling your basket with acrylic paint, styrofoam blocks, construction paper and glue sticks

Toji: "What kind of fifth grader does a science project on soil erosion? Can't we just do something normal like a volcano or something?"

Y/N: "Are you gonna keep complaining all night or are you gonna actually help find everything on the list?" You turned around mad dogging him, both of you were tired and a little bit cranky and snappy at one another. Most of it was playful but some of it intended

Toji: "You look like a pig when you scrunch your knows like that." He chuckled attempting to pull you in for a kiss

Y/N: "You bitch-- Go get someone to open the spraypaints for us!" You said shoving your hand in his face and pushing his head back. Toji sauntered away to find the nearest employee to assist you guys

You stood alone in the aisle for a few minutes scrolling through instagram to pass the time until Toji came back, until a tap on your shoulder caught your attention. A random man, had approached you attempting to spark a conversation. Your eyes jotted back and forth around the area wondering where tf could Toji be and why was he taking so long to get back

"You got a really pretty smile you know that? Pretty hair too, you do this all by yourself?" He asked and took one of your (protective style)'s in his hands

Toji: "Now you..." Toji came up behind the man and planted a firm grip on his shoulder, "...are way too ugly and way too short to think they'd ever want someone like you to touch them. Don't you think?"

The man trembled in place at the vast size difference between the two

"I--"

He couldn't get a whole sentence in before Toji pulled him back by his hair then slammed him head first into the shelves next to him, making the man scream in pain. The star captured the attention of multiple employees and needless to say it wasn't long until you were being led out of the building by security.

Toji: "Did I do too much again?" He asked from the passenger seat, knowing full well he didn't regret his actions

Y/N: "We just got banned from the store, what do you think Toji?"

Toji: "Are you mad at me?"

Y/N: "Yes I'm mad!"

Toji: "Mm. The blush on your face doesn't look like someone who'd be mad at me." He grinned and you tried to hide the smile that started to form

Y/N: "Shut the fuck up."

Gojo Satoru

Gojo unfortunately was very ignorant to the topic at first

Maybe it was a cultural difference but when you told him people would ask to touch your hair he thought it wasn’t that big of a deal

“If someone admired your hair so much that they want to get close to it shouldn’t that be a compliment to you? It’s like they’re complimenting an artist for their artwork right? I don’t really see the harm in that, I touch Getos hair all the time and he's fine with it.” He said once before

Nonetheless it led to a very heated argument

He didn’t understand all the fuss around it, that was until he saw it actually happen

Seeing how physically uncomfortable you get when someone you don’t know tries to “pet” you put it all in perspective for him

Y/N: “Gojo, hurry we’re gonna miss the train!” You shouted as you ran through the subway station

Gojo: “I’m coming slow down! I don’t wanna drop anything.” He followed closely behind carrying the other bags of groceries you guys got from the farmers market

You both managed to slip through the train doors in time before it departed. You two managed to find two seats by the window, it was a preferred spot that way you both could gaze upon the countryside greenery as you passed on your way back to the city. Gojo leaned against the window and you leaned against his shoulder, the both of you trying to get some rest after a full day of walking.

The train stopped at its next spot to let on a few more passengers and a tap on your shoulder shook you out of your rest.

“Can i touch your hair?” a young woman behind you asked, but she had already reached out her hand before you could even answer. You pulled back before her hand could touch you

“Oh, um no please don’t do that…” you awkwardly said and turned back around. You looked over at Gojo who you know heard everything but was undermining the situation yet again

Gojo: “Calm down she didn’t mean anything by it, go back to sleep.” He dismissed you, not even bothering to open his eyes as he still laid against the window. You let out a low scoff and laid back against your seat instead of Gojos shoulder like you were before

The next few minutes we’re quiet as you dozed back off until you heard a loud camera click and could hear the girl frantically trying to turn the volume down

Y/N: “Did you just take a picture of me?”

“Oh it wasn't a bad one I was just sending your hairstyle to my friend I think it’s cute.”

Y/N: “I don’t care. Don’t take a fucking picture of me if—

“I didn’t even touch you so calm the fuck down…this is why no body likes to compliment you people anyways. You take everything too goddamn seriously.” she muttered the last bit under her breath but still loud enough to pick up. This sentence being the one that finally caught Gojos attention

Gojo: “What was that?” He stood up towering over the young woman

“I-I didn’t say anyth— I’m s-sor—

Gojo: “Shut up. Delete it. Now.” His eyes pierced through her and she scrambled to reopen her camera and delete the photos. She flipped the phone towards his face to show that they were no longer in her folder

Gojo: “Now go to a different seat. And if you touch them against i’ll smash that stupid fucking phone into the fucking concrete.” The young woman ran from her seat to the other side of the train as quickly as possible and Gojo sat back down. He attempted to put his arm around you but you wanted no part in it, for the next 30 minutes you ignored every attempt he made to get a word out of you. Even on the walk home you were cold

Gojo: “Y/N if you don’t tell me what’s wrong I can’t fix it!” he said as you entered your apartment

Y/N: “IVE TOLD YOU WHATS WRONG BEFORE. YOU DONT LISTEN!” you yelled, something he rarely heard you do, “I told you countless times before that people trying to touch me is a reoccurring problem for me and what did you do? You belittled me and made it seem like no big deal. Why did it take someone being blatantly racist towards me for you to actually start caring? Why did I have to prove the problem to you?” He looked back at you with no words just a stunned expression as he struggled to find the right thing to say

Gojo: “I…I don’t know. I’m sorry.” you rolled your eyes at his lackluster reply and turned away to the bedroom

Y/N: “Whatever. I’m going to bed.”

Gojo: “Y/N, wait I—

you slammed the door in his face before he could finish his sentence

story belongs to @nonbinaryeggrolls

do not steal

#nanami kento #toji fushiguro #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x black reader #toji x black reader #nanami x black!reader #jjk men #jjk headcanons #jjk angst #jjk

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fairysluna · 1 year

Text

the summer islands.

In a failed attempt of escaping, Aegon accidentally arrives in an unknown island where a lovely and lonely girl lives.

MASTERLIST

PAIRING – Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader.

TAGS/TW – fluff, mentions of parental neglect, nudity (not in a sexual way), cursing, golden retriever and black cat dynamic.

AUTHOR'S NOTE – First repost of my old blog, I was just getting started in writing in English so pls don't be so harsh with me lmao. This was a request (my first request ever, actually), and it turned out to be my favourite fic written by me. so yeah, enjoy!!🤍 (pd, i used to write in 3rd person, so...)

WORD COUNT – 8.0k

FEEDBACK, SHARES AND COMMENTS ARE ALWAYS WELCOME!!

"No, no, no!" Aegon yelled at his dragon. "Not here, Sunfyre! sōvēs, sōvēs!"

No matter how loud he would scream at his loyal dragon, no matter how strong he would pull the ropes; the beast was reluctant in following his orders.

Sunfyre landed on top of a hill, sighing tiredly while he laid down on the greenest grass Aegon has ever seen. He tried to make him stand up again; pulling the ropes, yelling a thousand commands on High Valyrian, but the golden dragon was not interested in following his words.

“Fuck!” He yelled while reluctantly getting down from his dragon’s back.

He was whispering inappropriate words, and after taking one bad step, he fell onto his back; that did nothing but make him more angry —and ashamed. He cursed the Seven Gods, blaming them for his terrible luck during that day.

Aegon looked around while he was standing on his feet once again, he was trying to see if someone had seen his shameful fall. Luckily for him, no one seemed to be near him, the only thing he could perceive was a bunch of trees and lots of green hills that were covering all the surface of the land.

He walked in front of a sleepy Sunfyre, and he only grew desperate when he saw him closing his eyes. “No, no, no!” He screamed. “Don’t sleep- Fuck!” He looked around, now in despair, “They’re going to find me! Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

The dragon moved his head, hiding it from the stressed man. Aegon brushed his face anxiously, sighing and about to cry for desperation. He kept trying to wake his dragon, but Sunfyre was already snoring softly. He looked like a maniac, feeling that his brother would appear behind his back with his large dragon at any moment now.

“I can’t fucking believe it.” He muttered. "You traitor! How can you do this to me? I thought we were brothers! Now, get up! We have to go-”

"Are you hurt?"

A voice behind his back made him jump out of fear. He quickly grabbed the hilt of his sword, taking it out of his scabbard and turned around, facing the strange girl that came out of nowhere. He pointed at her with the tip of his sword, but she did not even flinch. He was entirely confused about where she came from, just a few minutes ago he turned around to see his surroundings and he never saw her coming. She just appeared by his side.

"Who the fuck are you?" He asked harshly and unkindly, not trusting her.

"You seem lost." She deducted, a small smile formed on her face. "I can help you." She said, but Aegon did not let his guard down. "Is your dragon hurt?"

"No," He quickly answered, as if he was trying to prove his dragon was healthy and ready to fight against any threat, "He is completely healthy, he just decided to be lazy!"

"It's a gorgeous dragon." She said walking towards him. "Can I touch him?"

"I don't think that's a good idea, he can be-"

He stopped himself once he realized she did not listen to his words, instead, she just put one of her hands on the golden scales. Aegon was waiting for a reaction from him, something that might scare her away, but Sunfyre only curled under her touch, as if he was a huge cat instead of a giant and dangerous beast. "What the-"

"It's such a beauty." She commented, completely enchanted by the creature. "I never thought I would live to see one... What's its name?"

"Sunfyre." He answered, feeling odd. "He's a male."

"Oh, so he is a boy!" She said, laughing joyfully. "Look at you, pretty, pretty boy." She whispered to the dragon. "What a sight you are!”

"He's- he's not a boy." Aegon muttered, "He's a dragon male, a big, fearful, scary dragon male."

“He seemed harmless.” She thought.

“He’s not.” He rushed to say. “And I think it is better if you leave him alone. He is not very fond of strangers.”

Aegon walked towards her in order to pull her away from Sunfyre, but the tail of the dragon got in his way without him seeing it. As a result, he ended up tripping and falling on top of the girl, who just gasped out of surprise and then laughed cheerfully while Aegon groaned on top of her.

He frowned, and took his time to see her face carefully for the first time. She was not ugly, she was actually quite far from being ugly; her smile was charming and the way the corner of her eyes wrinkled when she was laughing was just bewitching. Aegon found himself staring at her longer than he should, but the girl under him did not seem to mind. Instead, she looked back at him and saw some scratches on his face, she immediately got worried and with a breathless voice she asked him once again,

“Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

Aegon did not know how, but he ended up in the house of the girl, eating an incredibly delicious soup and with his face completely washed. He had got rid of the dry blood on his face and cleaned his scratches, which he did not even remember how he got.

The house was not big at all, it was more like a cottage not larger than his own room. It was made of wood, the kitchen was in one corner and the bed on the other, the table only had two chairs and it was in the middle of the house. There were lots of plants of every kind and a strong scent of cinnamon and vanilla. Aegon thought it was comfortable and warm, it felt like a home; which was better than living in a huge castle made of stone.

He would rather live there, away from everything.

The door was open harshly and the girl walked in with a bag filled with vegetables and fruits. She was agitated, as if she was running from something, however Aegon did not seem worried about it because she was smiling; she was always smiling.

“I stole a sheep for Sunfyre.” She said, excitedly.

Aegon widened his eyes and choked with the soup. He started coughing while the girl left the bag on the floor. “You did what?” He asked incredulously.

“My neighbor has plenty of them, you don’t have to worry, he won’t even notice!” She explained, moving her hands and trying to play down the situation.

“And why the fuck would you do that?”

“He seemed hungry.” She shrugged.

“Your neighbor?”

“No, your dragon!” She laughed. “I had to run before he would catch me, he’s a fast runner and running up a hill with a sheep on your shoulders is quite hard.”

“You’re fucking mental.” He whispered under his breath, without her hearing him.

He looked at her strangely, following her with his eyes while she was pouring some soup in a small bowl. Then, she sat in front of him and started drinking it. Aegon was still staring at her slightly frowning, he thought she was quite peculiar.

“While you were yelling at your dragon, I heard that you were going somewhere.” She said, “Where were you going? It seemed urgent.”

“You heard that?” He asked, a bit scared. He remembers looking around the place and not seeing anyone.

“I did.” She nodded, “I saw you falling from your dragon too. That was a bit funny.” She chuckled.

“How- Oh, fuck me.” He sighed.

“So, where were you going?”

“I’m not comfortable with sharing that kind of information to someone I just met.” Aegon said, now he was being careful with his words, because he was starting to get a bit scared of her. “I don’t even know your name.”

“I’m y/n!” She replied cheerfully. “What’s your name?”

“Uhm… Aegon.”

“Aegon?” She repeated, her voice tone was more serious now.

Aegon shrink on his seat, and he looked at her expectantly. He thought she would be able to recognize his name, or his not-so-discreet hair. He thought that, once she realizes who he was, she might sell him away in exchange for a couple coins of gold. Instead, she just laughed again.

“It sounds like ‘egg’!” She finally said, Aegon let out a breath of relief.

“No, it doesn’t.” He replied, offended.

“It’s a nice name, though.” She praised, “It’s original, I like it. Aegon, Aegon, Aegon.” She repeated, “Sounds good. Aegon, Aegon-”

“Please, stop.” He said annoyed.

The smile on her face trembled a little. She just cleared his throat and looked down at her soup in order to take her eyes away from him. Aegon felt a bit bad for it, seeing how her smile almost disappeared because of him, however, he did not say anything else. He did not know why he felt bad for her in the first place.

“Well, now that you know my name and I know yours, and we are less strangers for each other,” She took a sip from her soup, “Will you tell me where you were going?”

“Why do you want to know?”

She shrugged, “Just curious.”

Aegon sighed and rolled his eyes. Something inside of him told him that it was a bad idea and he should leave immediately, but the other part of him told him to stay, to be nice to the kind girl that gave him food and shelter, and even stole a sheep for his dragon.

“I was going to Pentos.” He replied.

“Why?”

“You are curious, aren’t you?”

“Just a bit.” She put her index finger against her thumb making a gesture that was cute enough to hinder him.

“I was escaping.” He confessed.

“From whom?”

“My family.” He replied, “My mother, more specifically.”

“Why would you escape from your family, Aegon?” She asked again, and Aegon forced himself to not roll his eyes again.

“They- uhm, they are forcing me to do something I don’t want to do.”

“What thing?”

“Okay, that’s enough.” He raised his voice a little, starting to lose his patience. The girl leaned back, and a small ‘sorry’ escaped from her lips.

Aegon once again felt guilty as the room stayed in silence, and again he did not know why, which was a bit frustrating for him. She started to eat her soup quietly while he just looked at her, trying to read through her. That girl was a whole mystery, Aegon has never met someone so peculiar as her.

“How does it feel?” Her voice sounded softer and slower than the times before. Aegon frowned, confused.

“What thing?”

“To have a family.” She said, “I never had one.” She revealed, she tried to smile but Aegon saw the quivering on the corners of her mouth. “I mean- I had my mother, but- uhm, one day she left and I haven’t seen her since then.”

“Well, I can’t tell you nice things about my family. They’re all a piece of shit.”

“At least you have one.”

“I would rather not have one.” He confessed, “You’re all alone and you seem to do pretty well.”

When her smile completely disappeared, he knew he had fucked up once again. A small curse left his lips before starting to apologize, which was something quite odd coming from him.

“I mean- I’m sorry.” He was surprised by how fast he had said those words. He was not used to using them. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s okay.” She spoke softly, nodding. “I don’t mind.”

She stood up from the table and took the two small bowls with her. Aegon almost complained since he still had some soup left, but he thought he had already said enough. It seemed as if every time he would open his mouth he would hurt her feelings, so he decided to be quiet while he followed her with his purple tired eyes.

He soon stood up too, starting to gather his belongings –which was only his scabbard and a bag with some of his clothes– and getting ready for departure. He took a deep breath, feeling his stomach full and then he said,

“Well, I must thank you for your kindness.” He spoke while she was starting to clean the dishes, “But I must go now.”

She turned quickly, dropping the crockery on the table and wiping her hands with a small cloth. Her eyes seemed to be confused.

“What? You’re leaving so soon?”

“If I leave now I will arrive in Pentos in no time.”

“But- but it’s dark, and Sunfyre is sleeping, I-” She sighed, “I thought you were staying for the night. You should stay.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” He said, “I’ll find some lodging over there, don’t worry.”

“But they’ll make you pay.”

“Well, I’ll have to pay either way if I want to live there.” He deducted with an obvious tone.

“Please, stay the night.” She asked him, “I can make you some good food in the morning so you will have energy to travel… I can steal another sheep for Sunfyre too!”

“But where would I sleep?”

“In the bed!” She pointed at the small bed in the corner of the house. “It’s not so big but it is quite comfortable.”

“Did you steal your neighbor’s sheep to make the cushions?” He joked, and she smiled.

“How did you know?” She asked, genuinely surprised.

“I- I didn’t-” Aegon was taken aback by her answer, and he shook his head. “There’s only one bed.”

“I can sleep on the floor.”

“But you would be uncomfortable.” He surprised himself by his genuine concern.

“But you wouldn’t.” She insisted. “You can leave with Sunfyre on the morrow. He is sleeping now, look at him!”

She pointed through the window and Aegon saw outside, moving the curtain to have a better view. His dragon was sleeping soundly and he sighed, knowing that he would not wake up even if he screamed in his ear. Sunfyre has the same sleep as his owner, which was quite prejudicial in this kind of situation.

He had no other choice but to stay.

The bed was so comfortable that it made him feel as if he was laying on clouds, the mattress would shape his body perfectly and the pillows were so soft and it smelled good. It was way better than his own bed on the Red Keep, and he knew as soon as he put his body on top of the mattress that it would be the best sleep he would ever have.

The next morning Aegon woke up and felt better than ever. That was probably the best sleep he had ever had in his twenty years of life. He looked around the house now in the daylight, and everything seemed even more cozy than before. He rubbed his eyes and looked at the girl beside the bed still sleeping soundly; he could see a small trace of drool coming from the corner of her mouth.

He stood up and started pacing around the tiny house. He grabbed a carrot from the bag of vegetables and fruits she had brought the prior night and looked through the window to check on Sunfyre. That's when his problems started again.

"No, no, no, no!" He muttered while opening the door in quick and nervous moves. "Fuck! Fuck!"

He got out of the house and started to look around, his dragon was nowhere to be found.

"YOU FUCKING TRAITOR!" He yelled at the skies, throwing the carrot in his hand away and moving desperate around the green fields. "Fuck!"

"Aegon?"

The sleepy girl stood on the door frame, looking at him worryingly. Her eyes were narrowed due to the light of the day, her hair was messy and she walked outside the house barefooted.

"What happened?"

"He fucking left me!" He snapped. "How could he?"

"Who?"

"Sunfyre!" He spoke with an obvious tone, "Don't you see how a large dragon is not in your front yard anymore?"

"I can see that, yes." She nodded calmly, "But perhaps he will come back later, perhaps he got hungry again and went to find something to eat."

"Perhaps that traitor left me!" He said in despair, "How am I supposed to fly to Pentos now? My family will find me here!" He walked closer to her, "I don't even know where I am!"

"You are in the Summer Islands." She replied, "In the south of Dorne."

"South of Dorne?" He asked scandalized, "What the fuck am I doing in the South of Dorne?!"

"I don't think I could answer that."

"I was supposed to be flying to the east! Why am I here?"

"Do you want some tea?" She kindly offered.

Aegon looked at her as if she was insane, has she not heard what he just said?

“I don’t want tea.” He scoffed, “I want my fucking dragon back!”

“You yell too much.” She pointed out, “Perhaps that’s why your dragon left you.” Aegon frowned, offended. “I’ll be inside making food in case you need anything.”

Aegon covered his face with both of his hands and screamed out of rage. He pulled the grass under his feet and started throwing rocks with his hands. He looked like a small child throwing a tantrum. He was too stressed, even a couple of desperate tears came out of his eyes. He was lost in a place he did not even know, without his dragon and with the company of a girl who is partially scary. He started to regret every life decision that had brought him to that place.

Minutes after, when all of his rage started to dissolve from his body, he got into the house again. The girl has already made some food and she had put it on the table for him to eat, Aegon felt the delicious smell reaching his nose and he almost drool for it. It smelled better than anything he had ever smelled before. Then, he thought that, perhaps, staying there until Sunfyre gets back would not be a bad idea at all.

“I’m mad at you.” She said as soon as Aegon crossed the door. He tensed immediately, thinking she would kick him out.

“Why?”

“You ripped my grass.” She sat on the chair and started to eat. “Do you know how long it took me to make it grow?”

For the first time he saw her frowning, and it was not as if he had known her for her entire life, but seeing her making any other expression besides smiling felt wrong. Almost unnatural, actually.

“I’m sorry…” He muttered shyly, sitting in the chair in front of her. “I was a bit mad.”

“A bit?” She asked teasingly. “You yelled at a bird.”

“Why do you always catch me doing foolish things?”

“Why are you always doing foolish things?” She asked back.

“Apparently because I’m a fool.” He started to eat and he immediately hummed pleasantly with the taste. He almost rolled his eyes back. “Look, I’m going to help you fix your grass.”

“How?”

“Well, I can’t go anywhere without my dragon so I guess I will not have any other choice than to stay here until he decides it’s time to come back.” He shrugged, “If you allow me to, of course.”

Aegon saw how she tried so hard to suppress her smile until she finally let it take over her face. She nodded excitedly; she would finally have some company. She would finally not be alone.

“Of course I allow you!” She said with a giant smile, “Besides, I feel this is partly my fault.”

“How so?”

“Well, if I hadn’t insisted on you staying for the night, you would’ve been in Pentos by now.”

“What is done, is done.” He said, “At least I’m eating delicious food.”

She blushed a little and Aegon smiled; that is how it all started.

The first days were not much fun. Aegon had a hard time trying to entertain himself as the girl did not have any type of liquor; the closest thing to that was vinegar, and he could not stand the smell of it. There were not any other women around either, not other animals or anything besides her, her small cottage and the big woods that were behind her home.

So, as a result, he was forced to have conversations with her. At first, he was trying so hard not to get annoyed by her multiple questions, but then he got used to them and instead of being bothered by them, he started to get really comfortable answering them. He would like the fact that she was always genuinely interested in whatever he had to say, and he would also like the fact that he could speak with her for hours without feeling as if he was a nuisance.

Four days were spent like that, until she asked him for some help with her tasks. One morning they woke up and the sky was gray, covered in raging clouds that were warning about a big storm coming.

“Oh, no.” She had said to him, looking at the clouds with worry in her eyes. Aegon turned to her, looking at her frown. “There’s a hole on the ceiling, and I couldn’t fix it the last time it rained. It was a disaster!”

“I can help you with that.” Aegon offered.

“Can you?” She excitedly said.

Aegon nodded with a slight smile, while on the inside, he was dying from the nerves since he had absolutely no idea on how to fix a hole in the ceiling, he just offered himself out of courtesy and because he wanted to be a good guess for her.

He was completely oblivious with everything, he did not know how to use the tools, and he was too embarrassed to ask so he just improvised everything trying to make it work. But it did not.

When the storm came, the girl had to put vases around the house to prevent the floor from getting wet thanks to the leaks. Even the bed got wet, so that night Aegon had to sleep on the floor, on the other side of the bed. She did not get mad at him for not fixing the problem, instead, she just laughed it off and told him it was alright, that they could fix it in another time.

Aegon felt some inner joy when she said that, for he knew she was thinking of him staying longer; he did not dislike the idea.

A week and a half has passed already. Sunfyre was nowhere to be seen, but Aegon did not mind about it anymore, he felt too comfortable already with her company. Besides, they had just started his cooking lessons.

The girl has offered it to him as a joke, and when Aegon accepted she was as surprised as him. It was not common that a man would want to learn those kinds of things. In return, he would teach her about dragons, and she was so fascinated with the idea that as soon as they sealed the deal, she grabbed her vegetables and started to teach him.

Aegon’s fingers soon were full of tiny cuts, cuts that she would clean and bind up. Chopping vegetables with a knife seemed like a more dangerous activity than using a sword.

When he finally made supper all by himself, he felt so proud that he could not stop smiling. He had prepared the meal while the girl was out searching for fresh vegetables and fruit. It was a surprise; he wanted to make something nice for her. So when she arrived at the house, she saw two small bowls filled with soup.

“Aegon, did you cook all this by yourself?” She had asked him, surprised but also impressed.

“I did.” He answered proudly, while she was sitting on the chair. “I hope it tastes good, I didn’t try it before pouring it in the bowls.”

She smiled softly, a smile that quickly trembled thanks to the flavor of the soup. It was not bad, it just had a strong taste that she could not recognize. She tried so hard to keep a smile on her face because she would rather rip her heart from her chest than to make him feel bad about something, especially when he really strove to make it. She just nodded and hummed, while she kept drinking the soup.

But soon Aegon tried it too, and she spit the soup back on the bowl as soon as it touched his tongue. His disgusted face was too cute for her to ignore, she found herself staring at him more than she should while he was overreacting by drinking large sips of water in order to forget the taste.

“Oh Gods, this is so fucking disgusting.” He muttered, “Stop drinking that.” He had said to her, trying to grab her bowl to toss it, but she took it away from him first. “Don’t drink that, it's disgusting.”

“What are you saying? This is delicious!” She tried to cheer him up. She took a big sip of the soup afterwards, trying so hard not to show a bad face.

“Don’t lie, y/n.” He told her, embarrassed. “Stop drinking it!”

But she drank it all. Aegon was surprised to see the empty bowl, and it was impossible for him not to smile softly at her. She had drunk his disgusting soup only to avoid making him feel bad. That’s when the tickles started.

Another week passed, and Aegon found himself running with a sheep on his shoulders and y/n laughing hysterically by his side, while an old man was following them with a flail. He did not know how he put himself in that situation, but he was enjoying it. Hearing her laughter was enough to make him feel some joy he had never experienced before, it made him feel whole.

When they entered the tiny house, the grumpy neighbor was long forgotten. Aegon dropped the sheep on the floor and sat, trying to catch his breath while the girl was offering him a glass of cold water, which he gladly accepted.

“How do you do that?” He asked breathlessly. She only shrugged and chuckled.

“I guess I’m used to it.” She sat in front of him, “Aegon, the Sheepstealer. It sounds good, does it not?”

Aegon smiled, “It does.”

He killed the sheep, and made a much better meal with it. The practice has made him good, great even. Now he knew he did not need to put too much nutmeg on the food, a pinch was enough.

“I’ve never eaten sheep before.” The girl confessed after finishing her plate. “It’s quite delicious.”

“Why?”

“It’s just that I don’t have the heart to kill them.” She replied, “They look at me with those tiny little eyes, and it is impossible for me to do something to them.”

“What do you do with the sheep you stole?” He asked confused.

“I return them.” She explained, “I cut the wool with my scissors and then I took them back to my neighbor’s herd.” She looked at the plate with a sad haze, “Although this one won’t be coming back any time soon.”

“Wait, you have scissors?” He asked, and she nodded.

Soon, Aegon was sitting on the same chair as before but this time he saw how his platinum hair strands were falling onto his lap. He had asked her to cut his hair after thinking it was getting too long. Her hands brushing his head was a kind of pleasure that he never thought he would experience, it felt so good that he would start humming without even realizing.

His eyes would close and his whole body would relax under her touch. It felt too good that Aegon even thought he was dreaming.

Of course the haircut was a mess, she had never done anything like that before; at least not with humans. But when Aegon saw his hair reflected on a small mirror that was hanging from the wall, he just praised her for her good job, although they both knew it was hideous. He just did not have the heart to tell her that.

The day passed after that and with each day they would get closer and closer. Until one night, when Aegon would not find peace to sleep, for he was starting to feel guilty. Lately at night, he had found himself staring at the girl while she slept on the floor next to the bed, all curled up and hugging the blanket that would cover her from the coldness of the evening. Aegon felt something inside of him that was screaming he was in the wrong for letting her sleep in such a way for too long.

Even though she was peacefully sleeping already, he knew she deserved to be as comfortable as him. After everything she had done for him, he felt the need to give her something back. So he started to wake her up.

“Hey, y/n. Wake up!” He started to shake her body a bit too harshly. “Y/n, wake up!”

The poor girl jumped and woke up scared, looking around, confused and overwhelmed. “What happened?” She said. Her raspy voice made him feel some kind of tinkle in his gut. “My neighbor is here?”

“Hey, y/n.” He whispered, “It’s okay, he’s- he’s not here.”

“What is it then?” She rubbed her eyes and yawned. “Do you need more cushions?”

“No, I’m okay it’s just… uh, I was thinking if you would like to sleep here in the bed.” He offered, surprisingly shy. “I think it could be more comfortable for you.”

“And where would you sleep?”

“We can sleep together if that’s not a problem for you.”

She smiled, pleased. “Look at us.” She said chuckling, “A few weeks ago you wouldn’t tell me about where you were going because I was a stranger and now you are offering me to sleep with you!” She spoke excitedly, “On the morrow we will wake up as best friends!”

Aegon only nodded softly, still wondering about what made her so unique. So special.

She stood up and quickly got under the soft blankets, cuddling with a pillow. Aegon was staring at the ceiling, moving his fingers nervously after feeling her body so close to him. He regretted having his shirt removed as he was scared that his body would react on its own, he was scared of what she might think if he got aroused by her. He did not even know why he was so concerned about it, perhaps it was the very first time that he actually cared of what others would think of him. Of what she might think of him.

To avoid the shame of it, he turned around giving her his back. He then sighed and closed his eyes, preparing himself to sleep now out of guilt, but her voice sounded once again.

“Aegon?” She whispered. Her breath hit his back, causing him a shiver that was quite worrying.

“Yes?” His voice sounded more raspy than usual.

“I know this is ‘best friend’ level, and we aren’t there yet,” Aegon frowned and looked at her over his shoulder. “But I was wondering if I could hug you.”

He was taken aback by her sudden request. He was so shocked that he felt as if she was playing a joke on him. No one has ever asked him to hug him before, less when in bed.

“You want- You want to hug me?”

“Yes…” She nodded, a small smile crossed her lips. “Like this.”

She moved a bit behind him and then he felt her arm going under his and surrounding his naked torso. Aegon felt oddly calm once he sensed her warmth around him. She laid her head on top of the crook of his neck and sighed.

A now-familiar sensation took over his body, making his face feel hotter and his heart beat faster. He did not know why his body started to react in such a way all of the sudden, but it did not feel bad.

“How does it feel?” She asked. “I can move if you are not comfortable-”

“No!” He quickly said, a bit louder than he expected. “It feels nice.”

She smiled, relieved.

“Good night then, Aegon.” She said softly.

“Good night, y/n.”

Aegon fell asleep with a smile on his face for the first time in his life.

The next day, everything went as usual, although he could not take his eyes out of her. With every touch, every word, and every smile he would feel something jumping inside his chest, and he would get clumsy all of the sudden. Even a little shy, when he had no record of being shy before meeting her.

And then, she had the marvelous idea of having lunch outside. Aegon was not a big fan, but he accepted because she wanted to do it; he could not bring himself to say no to her.

He followed her through the woods until they reached a beautiful lagoon in the middle of the trees, the water was turquoise, and you could see the bottom of it because it was so clear. It was a gorgeous place, probably one of the most beautiful places he had ever been.

The meal was cooked by Aegon, who had been constantly improving on his culinary skills. They sat on a cozy blanket —made by her with the wool of his neighbor’s sheep, of course— and they put all the biscuits, pastries, and bread on top of it. She had made orange juice too, which Aegon loved.

“Where do you think Sunfyre is right now?” She asked after a moment of silence.

Aegon shrugged, “I don’t care about that traitor anymore.” He spoke with his mouth full after eating a small lemon cake in just one bite.

“Will you leave after he comes back?” Her voice sounded quite unsure, perhaps because she did not want to hear an answer.

Aegon was taken aback with the question, not sure of what to answer. He has not even thought about his departure yet, seeing it so far and unlikely; he did not wish to leave this place, nor her.

“I don’t know.” He said softly, “I feel rather comfortable in your bed.” He joked, and she chuckled. “You’re an amazing hugger. If I leave now, I’m going to miss you at night.”

He said those words as if he was joking, but he knew deep inside of him that he was only speaking the truth.

“Hugger?” She asked confused.

“Your hugs,” He explained, “They’re incredible.”

“Well, thank you very much.” She blushed, and she tried to hide his face from him. Aegon looked at her mesmerized.

Once he woke up from his trance, he realized he had been staring at her for too long, and even when she did not seem to mind, he felt some embarrassment in his action. So he tried to take her attention to something else. Something that was not him and his rosy cheeks.

“Is the water good for a swim?” He asked, the girl nodded excitedly, “Shall we swim?”

The girl stood up immediately, and soon she started to get rid of her dress. Aegon’s eyes widened with panic as he had not considered that important detail; she would wet her dress to swim, so she was getting naked.

She did it without any shame of her body, and he knew it was because she did not find anything sinful in nudity, but Aegon did, and he got scared; mostly because he was scared of his own body, on how it would react by having her so close to him with nothing on. But when she finally got rid of her clothing, and his eyes found her, he felt his heart stop for a second.

He was waiting for his body to react differently, to have some reaction towards her naked body as he usually did; he expected to feel some tickle on his gut as a sign of lust, but it was nothing like it. Aegon saw her as if she had put a spell on him, his eyes could not stop staring at her curves, her bare skin, her hair being blown with the air. It was a bewitching scene that made Aegon’s whole body go numb. He even felt his eyes getting a bit watery, for they were glistening for the sight. And when she turned to face him and smiled so softly at him, he knew. He felt it.

Oh, no, Aegon thought, I’m falling in love.

Of course she invited him to join in, and he did. The butterflies on his stomach were getting more notorious with every step he took. Soon, he found himself playing with her, throwing water and laughing as a little child. It did not matter anymore that they were naked, he did not feel the need to make it into something lustful. He just enjoyed the moment with her, for he has never felt this way before; so filled with joy and genuinely happy.

He even wished for Sunfyre to never come back so he would never have an excuse to leave. But he had never been the possessor of such good luck.

The next morning a roar woke them up, they were sleeping cuddling each other and they both sat on the bed exalted for the sudden noise. Aegon was the first one standing up, grabbing his sword and coming out of the house. Soon, y/n followed him, positioning herself behind him. The girl stopped in awe, looking at the giant dragon in front of her with wonder.

“Fuck.” Aegon mumbled, loud enough to wake the girl out of her trance and looking at the man walking towards them.

“Who’s that?” She asked curiously.

Aegon sighed,

“My brother.” He replied reluctantly.

“He is handsome.” She said.

Aegon frowned, looking at her with a disgusted look on his face. “No, he’s not.”

As the man was getting closer, Aegon positioned himself in front of the girl, as if he was trying to protect her from him. Aemond stood in front of both of them, he looked serious and intimidating. The girl had to look up to him because he was at least one head taller than her.

“So this is where you were hiding.” He said when he was close enough for them to hear him. “It’s nice.”

“Thank you!” The girl rushed to respond.

“Who is this beautiful lady?” Aemond asked, the girl blushed with the compliment.

Aegon’s jaw clenched. “It is not of your interest.”

“I’m y/n.” She cheerfully said.

“Such a pleasure to meet you, Lady y/n.” He grabbed her hand and left a soft kiss in it. The girl giggled, a bit embarrassed.

“Oh, I'm no Lady.” She shyly smiled, “You have a beautiful dragon.”

“Thank you, love.” He smirked slightly.

“How did you find me?” Aegon asked, clearly annoyed.

“Sunfyre was seen flying around Dorne a few days ago,” He explained, “I found him and he guided me here.”

Aegon looked beside Vhagar and his dragon was laying there, chewing what seemed to be a calcined animal. Once again, he cursed the Gods by how inconvenient his arrival was.

“And what do you want?”

“Father is dead.” He said suddenly.

“What?” He muttered incredulously.

“Mother sent me to look for you.” Aemond explained.

“But- I don’t want to leave.”

“You must.” The younger one spoke firmly, “You will be crowned as King on the morrow.”

“King?” The soft voice of the girl was heard.

Aemond saw her with a lifted eyebrow, a bit surprised about her reaction until he finally put the strings together.

“She doesn't know, does she?”

“Know what, Aegon?” She asked him.

Aegon went silent, and he begged his brother with his eyes to not say anything, to keep it as a secret. But Aemond did not granted him with that, instead he looked at the girl with curious eyes and explained,

“Aegon is Prince of the Seven Kingdoms.” His voice sounded softly, as he was not trying to hurt her. “He is the heir of the Throne in Westeros.”

The girl frowned, and Aegon looked down at the green grass being unable to see her face after the truth was out. She took a step forward and touched his shoulder with care, only then Aegon was strong enough to look at her eyes; she was not mad or hurt, she just seemed confused.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I never saw the right time, I- I’m sorry, y/n.”

She excused herself and got into her home. Aegon covered his face with his hands, frustrated and mad at his brother, furious actually. He wanted to punch him in the face, but he knew that if he did it he would get into a fight that he would not win.

“You have been living in her home for a month and you never tell her about who you are?”

“It didn’t seem relevant!” He yelled, stressed, “Fuck!”

“Aegon, I must take you to mother and-”

“Shut up.” He interrupted him before starting to walk inside the house.

The girl was standing in the kitchen, cutting some oranges in half to then squeeze them and make orange juice. Aegon cleared his throat to make himself seen, and she turned to look at him. Her eyes were a bit teary and Aegon’s heart nearly broke.

“Can we talk?”

“You are a Prince.” She affirmed, and he nodded. “Is that why you were escaping from your family? Because you don’t want to be king?”

“I’ve never wanted it.” He confessed, “I’m not made to rule. I couldn’t even command my dragon when he brought me here.” He joked, and that made her smile. “I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you.”

“I understand why you did it.” A couple unexpected tears fell down her cheeks and she quickly brushed them off to laugh afterwards, “I don’t even know why I am crying-”

“It’s okay,” He said softly, and he cupped her face with his hands. A delicate touch that made her legs shiver. “I’m going to tell him to leave.” She frowned, “I’m going to stay here with you. And we can- we can be happy together, right?”

Her haze softened, Aegon looked at her lips and the sudden urge to kiss her invaded his whole body. Soon his thoughts were interrupted by her sweet voice,

“But you have to leave.” She whispered, “You have a family, you belong with them.”

“You are my family now, y/n. I belong here, with you!” He sighed.

“You need to leave…” She repeated, “Your brother, he is quite intimidating, I can’t fight with him over you.”

Aegon giggled.

“He would win without a doubt.” He added.

“I know. I would just embarrass myself.”

They both laughed lightly, with tears in their eyes. Trying so hard to ignore the pain on their chest.

“Listen-”

“No, you listen.” She interrupted him, “I think- I think it is better that you go with your brother- what’s his name?”

“Aemond.” She chuckled, “What?”

“Sounds like ‘almond’.”

Aegon smiled, “Yes, it does.”

She cleared her throat and wiped one rebel tear that left her eyes, she put her hands on top of his and sighed.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Aegon.” He frowned, “I don’t think I’ll ever forget you.”

“I don’t want to leave you alone.” He confessed.

“I won’t be alone… I can try and be friends with my neighbor.”

“Come with me.” He begged.

“Aegon, I can’t. I don’t belong there… but you do.”

“I’ll miss you terribly.” His voice sounded weak.

“You can come and visit whenever you want.” She tried to cheer him up.

“It won’t be enough.”

“We’ll make it enough.”

He hugged her tightly, burying his head on the crook of her neck trying to carve her scent in his memories, trying to force his body to remember her warmth around him for eternity. Her hands reached his hair and stroked it softly before leaning back.

“Oh! Before you go.” She quickly went to her bed and picked up one of her cushions, she then lent it to Aegon who received it with a smile. “So you can remember me.”

“Bold of you to assume I would ever forget you.”

The presence of Aemond interrupted their moment and the older brother rolled his eyes.

“We must leave now, brother.” Aemond said.

“You must leave now, brother.” She said in a whisper, imitating Aemond’s serious voice and making Aegon laugh loudly.

“Don’t let him hear you.” He warned her, “He would hate you if you mock him, he’s quite serious.”

She only nodded, trying to repress a smile while Aegon’s eyes scanned all of her face, trying to memorize every single part of it. He did not know when he would see you again.

“Y/n…” He called her.

“Yes?”

He took a deep breath, “I- I love-” He stopped himself before he could finish, and then he suddenly changed his words. “I really loved your house.”

Her smile trembled, a bit disappointed. “You can come back whenever you want. My door will alway be open for you.”

“Aegon!” Aemond insisted.

“Go now.” She said, “We’ll meet again, I promise.”

Aeon nodded, and after looking at her a little longer, he left a quick kiss on her forehead. Then, he left the house.

She saw from her door frame how Aegon started yelling at his dragon; she could only smile with tenderness after seeing him being mad at him again. She saw him riding his dragon and flying away.

The girl closed her door and layed in bed putting his nose against the pillows. They still smelled like him.

Two days later, she was in the kitchen preparing something for supper. It was late at night, she could hear the sound of the crickets outside, everything was so quiet and peaceful. Until a growl was heard in her front yard.

She left the knife and the celery aside in order to open her door and look outside; a huge smile on her face and butterflies in her stomach appeared when she saw the golden dragon outside her house. It was Aegon.

He got out of his saddle and quickly reached the grass. He walked fast towards the girl who was just too excited to see him.

“Aegon, you’re back so soon?”

He did not answer her, instead, he pressed his lips against hers. She gladly followed the kiss, bringing her hands to his soft hair. Aegon held her close by grabbing her waist and pulling her onto his body. The kiss was soft, slow, filled with tenderness and love; Aegon sighed in between, feeling in heaven with just the touch of her lips.

When he leaned back, his eyes were glistening, his breathing was fastened, and his heart was jumping inside his chest out of excitement. The girl in front of him laughed, and Aegon closed his eyes; two days were enough for him to crave for that sweet laughter.

“I love you, y/n.” He confessed, making her melt. “I left everything behind, so you better get used to my presence because I’m not leaving you any time soon.”

“What about the throne?” She asked, a bit overwhelmed with all the situation.

“I made a convenient deal with Aemond.” He explained. “He only accepted it because he liked you.”

She smiled, “I love you too, Aegon.”

He kissed her again, this time it was more passionately, but still had those sweet touches of tenderness that he loved so dearly. Her lips were soft, so perfect and made for him. Being there with her, kissing her and touching her body felt just right. As if it has always meant to be.

The girl leaned back and looked at him with a subtle smile, “We’ll need to steal a sheep.”

Aegon chuckled, “What for?”

“We will need a bigger bed.”

758 notes · View notes

writefightandflightclub · 4 months

Text

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Four (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running?

Genre: a LOT of angst, some smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings, here. Please note this series is 18+. Minors or ageless blogs interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written and queued. Posting schedule is here (includes series master list).

Author’s note: Ooh I really hope you enjoy this one! As always, I would be super grateful for any comments / reblogs / asks you may wish to send my way. I so love to hear your feedback and chat more about this story! ILY :-*

Word count: 5.3k for this part.

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to taglist if you are 18+. Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

The rest of the evening passes in much the same way as the rest. You rejoin the group out front, Benny injecting some much needed fresh energy into the pack. He regales you all with tales of his most recent fights, delivers excruciating detail about his latest training regimen, and proudly shows off pictures of his new puppy.

“Why am I looking at a picture of you, Miller,” Frankie jests as he holds up the screen to reveal an adorable golden retriever.

If anyone notices that Santiago seems quieter than he had earlier in the night, they don’t say it. If they realise that you are engaging in very purposeful, overblown interest in Benny’s chat, it doesn’t get called out. There are a few exchanges between the two of you and Santiago that simulate old patterns. Lend weight to the pretence that things could even return to normal between you and him, given a little more time.

Still, every time your eyes glance off of one another there is this intolerable heat, and you find you still can’t meet it head on. At times, your gaze is dropped hastily into the sand. At times, your eyes needle Frankie pointedly so that he might come to your aid, even if he does simply shrug and clasp the neck of his bottle a little more tightly.

You know Santiago. And in a sense, contradictory as it may be, the hardest thing is how easy it would be to fall into your old patterns. Eventually, you begin to wonder if this tension and this awkwardness -this disconnect – is simply manufactured, in a way. Your heart’s tactic to keep him at arm’s length. A defence mechanism, because you ran away from a whole continent and yet you still fear ending up right back where you started if you can’t extricate yourself from him.

At some stage, you tire of the beer-addled chat, and especially of Tom. Even more so of the effort of trying to make everything feel normal, whilst at the same time fearing what might happen if you could actually achieve that. What it would mean. You announce to the group that you’re going to take a long soak in the tub, and you head upstairs to the main bathroom, languishing in the sweet-scented bubbles, and attempting to wash the burdens of the day from your body, along with the gathered sweat and sand and smoke. Of course, you seem entirely unable to scrub this urge humming beneath your skin.

When you eventually emerge there is a hush over the house, a cocooning darkness in the hallways – and you realise that at least some of the group must have retired to bed already. You’re tired, sure; but you’re still a little buzzed and not sure that you could sleep yet. You certainly don’t like the thought of staring at the ceiling, thinking about who might be lying awake too on the other side of your wall.

“Hey. Cat. Everyone gone to bed?” you ask Frankie softly as you see him round the stairs to the landing in his socked feet, his footsteps purposefully softened.

“Yeah, chiquita.”

“Already? Such old men,” you snicker gently. “What the hell happened?”

Frankie’s subdued throaty chuckle cuts pleasantly through the dark. “It was a long drive,” he defends playfully; then, his tone shifts, an injection of caution evident. It puts you on edge. “Pope’s still out there though, if that helps.” Frankie must feel you bristle, as he raises his palms in the air in surrender. Or, more than likely, absolving himself of any responsibility. “Do with that what you want.”

“Mmm-kay,” you say as nonchalantly as possible, and, from the sidelong glance Frankie throws at you, you know he isn’t buying it for a second.

“You two okay? Something happen in the kitchen?”

A flare ignites under your skin. You remember a different kitchen entirely. Not the one downstairs. Instead, you recall the hot, close air of the Colombian night. The flash of cool metal against your flushed skin as Santiago pressed you back and-

“-It was fine,” you lie tersely, and before Frankie can wheedle anything further out of you, you quickly hook your arm around his neck for a distracting, albeit halfhearted, goodnight hug. “’Night, Cat. Sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite.” With a grunt, he offers a quick, friendly kiss to your cheek, his scruff tickling up against you.

“Yeah. G’night,” he returns, looking as tired as he probably feels. And, as you part ways in the hallway, Frankie watches with resigned interest at the fact you don’t similarly retreat to your room. That instead, you shuffle onward towards the mouth of the stairs. “Don’t let the Pope’s bite.”

And then, with Frankie’s nonsensical and yet somehow apt warning ringing in your ears you head downstairs, meandering through the quiet house until you reach the exterior.

You are arrested in the doorway at the thought of experiencing Santiago alone all over again, but at the same time, that is exactly the thought which propels your feet over the threshold and out into the balmy night air.

You find him there, stretched out on his back in front of the dying embers of the fire, knees folded and pointed up to the sky. An orange glow is cast over the contours of his chest where his button-down shirt now falls completely open, the wire of his headphones snaking down and around his torso. He looks peaceful like this at first. Relaxed and loose, his chest rising and falling soporifically with his breath. His eyes are closed and he has his headphones in his ears, his fingers gently drumming and tapping where they rest against the softness of his bare stomach. Your eyes follow his happy trail, until the thatch of hair disappears beneath his shorts, now tugged tight over his thick thighs.

You note the appealing cushioning around his middle forming rolls as he shifts marginally - to better prop his head up on a second cushion. He looks beautiful. Tranquil, at first glance.

That is, until you see him tug in a huge breath, his ribs flaring with it. Until you watch him pinch the bridge of his nose before letting out a slow, sad exhale.

You know in that moment that you should without a doubt turn around. That you should go right to bed, even if that does result in staring at the ceiling for hours with the image of his gorgeous body seared into your mind. But, you can’t do that.

Instead, you already know exactly what you’re going to do. You’ve known since before you came downstairs.

Truth be told, you’ve known since before you came to the beach house at all. You’ve known since your new fella asked you to be exclusive and you said “no”. You know, because you don’t know what’s good for you.

“Santiago,” you say to announce yourself. “Mind if I join you?”

He pops a bud from his ear and opens his eyes. Somehow, he doesn’t even look surprised to see you standing there.

He blinks at you wordlessly for a moment. He could say no, of course, but you know that he won’t.

Because he doesn’t know what’s good for him either.

He doesn’t respond to you at all in words. Instead, he rises, shifting to the corner of his tartan blanket, arranging himself cross-legged with a groan. He pats the opposite side invitingly, gesturing for you to join him.

You hesitate. The setting, down on the sand on that measly square of wool, seems already far more intimate than the looming camp chairs had.

“Warmer down here,” Santiago encourages, as though reading your mind through how well he can read your body, evident tension snaking through your limbs. “Come and get comfy.”

Okay.

You hunker down, both legs folded to one side and your weight propped on the opposite arm. You take in the setting for a moment. The beach, shrouded in a blanket of dark. The sound of the waves shushing, and the gentle crackle of the fire.

It would be calming, if the silence between the two of you wasn’t so taut. Still, you know Santiago will shortly reach to fill the silence. He always does. You don’t even have to wait all that long.

“Good to see that Benny’s still… as Benny as ever.”

“Yeah. Good to see some things never change.” You look at his lips.

“His latest training regimen sounds pretty brutal, huh?“

“Uh huh.” Your eyes trail wantonly down his torso, and it’s not lost on you that he sucks his stomach in a little when your gaze drops to the soft rolls of him there. You’ve never seen a whiff of insecurity on the man before now. He’s confident as a rule - or so you thought. It’s appealing though, the softness of him. Sexy. You want to tell him that, but you don’t. Instead, you simply allow the soft smile to radiate over your face unfettered, your eyes warm and fond.

“What are you listening to?” you nod down to his phone, headphones still strung from it and one bud remaining in his ear. Wordlessly, he passes you the spare bud and you slot it in, allowing the droning sounds to wash over you. Voices talking, and smatterings of financial and investment jargon. You quickly get the gist of it, and just as quickly relinquish the bud back to him.

Your nose wrinkles. It’s not what you were expecting, honestly. “Financial podcasts?”

He tilts his head to the side. Looks suddenly as old and mature and serious as you’ve ever seen him. “Gotta think about the future sometime, right?” He says it lightly, but even so, you are somewhat hurt by it. Hurt that he’s never managed to envisage any kind of future with you.

“Right.” You nod, as neutrally as possible.

He looks at your mouth.

You note the brief fleet of pink tongue along the swell of his pillowy lower lip.

You both let the silence hang there for a moment, full of possibility, and again, you know he will fill it. After all, you made it clear, right? You told him: don’t. Even if you want precisely what you asked him to deny you. “Did you see that documentary about the octopus on-”

“-I can’t get off anymore without thinking about you, Santi.”

You interrupt him, and his jaw hangs slack for a moment, his eyes bugging out of his head as he fully registers your statement. Apparently, you don’t want to talk about Benny. Or podcasts. Or fucking octopi. You don’t want to fill the silence with meaningless chat.

With Santiago, it had always meant something. You don’t want to stop that now.

You let the words fall into his lap, and you aren’t even sure what reaction you were expecting. Therefore, you don’t even feel any particular type of way as you watch the multitude of emotions and stunted responses play out one by one across Santiago’s features. “Jesus, honey,” he eventually croaks.

Then, his second-hand embarrassment finally jars you too. In a delayed flush of self-pity, you bury your face in your hands. “Fuck. How pathetic is that?”

Santiago’s agape mouth finally closes then, a hard swallow bobbing down his corded neck. Your own self-deprecating laugh finally causes his face to split into a bemused and tentative grin. It is short-lived, however, his thick brows quickly drawing down. “You know. You’re giving me fucking whiplash over here, cariño.”

“Shit. I know. I’m sorry. I just…” You tug your knees up to your chest for whatever comfort it can offer. “Honestly? I don’t want to talk about Benny, or whatever else. I love the guy but I… I missed you. I missed you and I just want us back. I want us to be okay, you know?” Santiago’s face twists in a mirror of your own, as if he doesn’t even know how possible that is anymore. “And, I don’t know how else to do that anymore – to make us okay - without… without that. I don’t know how to stop wanting you.” As you keep talking, your voice seems to break into a thousand pieces, as if sand in your throat is grinding it down, eroding the body and timbre of it away. “I try. I try, Santi, and it… I never…”

Your name rises from his throat, and the sound is tired in his mouth. He knows what you’re asking him; and he doesn’t even seem surprised. “It’s a bad fucking idea.”

“I know.” He’s not even wrong. “I know it is, but I… I don’t care anymore.” Emotion weighs down your tone. Makes it heavy. “It’s like a wound in me - the way we left it - and I just need…” Your eyes flicker and flit everywhere as you reach for the word, dancing around the scene, around his face, like the licking, greedy flames.

You can’t find the word, the concept, the sentiment, but, as you search, Santiago’s voice filters through to you, certain and resigned. As though he understands perfectly what you crave after the wound that he left that night. “You need healing.”

Your head whips towards him and you nod slowly, with conviction, searching his face for any sign that he might give it to you. For any sign that he might be able to repair you. He had hurt you, yes. But his fire was so hot that you think he is the only thing capable of cauterising the wound he left in his wake. The only one who can ignite you enough to heal you, as selfish and misguided as your desire may be.

However, Santiago’s demeanour remains calm and cool even in the face of your desperation. You see only a vestige of desire dancing in his eyes now, as though all you had might truly be in the past. “You wanted out, remember?” he says thinly. With regret. He smiles even thinner than that. “No need to repeat your old mistakes, huh?”

“I wanted out of that life, man. You were never a mistake.”

“Heh. Don’t be so sure. If you know what’s good for you-“

Unconsciously, and with ill-timing, you shift on the mat in discomfort, rolling your spine to try and release some of the niggling, tight muscles – another old injury which continues to plague you long after the fact.

“Still got that damn tweak?” Santiago asks, seemingly grateful for the diversion.

You nod. “Mmm.”

“Want my fingers?”

You look into his eyes, mellow in the dancing light. How could you say no to that? “Please.”

“Come here then,” he encourages, shifting position to the edge of the porch step, his thighs spread wide apart and leaving space for you to settle on the sand before him. “Let me help you,” he insists, tipping up his chin, and his eyes softer and brighter again.

You hesitate, but you can’t find it in you to decline the invitation. Can’t possibly find the strength to say no to his hands on you. To some relief, even in this form. “Turn around. Back to me, hermosa.” His voice is soft, so soft. Rough and undone around the edges like this frayed edge of land you perch on.

You settle before him, and, just as he had promised, his fingers and his hands begin to inch over your body, on top of your clothes, seeking to unravel the knots. To bring you some relief. He used to do this for you all the time – always took care of you like this, and it’s bittersweet to recall a different, more innocent way his hands used to touch you. He would do this for you after training. After a mission. In the field. At the mouth of your tent when camped out in some desert or field or jungle. In the back of a Humvee on the way to the F.O.B.. At Benny’s fight nights when you’d had to sit in those shitty plastic chairs for too long. Whenever and wherever you needed it.

His hands always knew how to fix you, long before you learned all the ways they could take you apart like a weapon in his palm. “Santiago,” you keen, as the pad of his thumb works into all your sweet spots. You don’t know what his name is in your mouth. A plea; a promise; a prayer; a poem. Perhaps all of these at once.

“I know,” he soothes. “I know, cariño.”

You close your eyes against the sudden tears you find threatening at the corners of your eyes. Knowing his touch again is everything you wanted, and, despite yourself, you are eminently glad it is happening like this. That he is giving, instead of devouring you, for if he did the latter, you don’t know that there would be anything left for him to take.

His touch like this though, deft and tender, reveals that perhaps, there’s another way. That maybe, instead of burning you, Santiago could merely warm you. Maybe his flames only hurt because you had dared to get too close. Maybe you could simply learn to stay at arm’s length, where he had always attempted to keep you anyway.

Still, that’s all very well, but… his touch - as it skims down your body - is enough to subsume you. It is a tide swallowing hot shores. It is a relief. A balm. Healing.

“You’re so tight,” he complains gruffly, and you wonder if he is simply being careless, or whether his words were chosen ever so deliberately to remind you. To remind you of him praising you for that very same thing, under other circumstances.

Regardless, Santiago shifts then, shuffling his hips closer towards you. His thighs -either side of your torso - boxing you in a little more tightly. Then, he braces one hand carefully against your shoulder, the other digging and kneading into your knotted muscles at the spot he always knew how to help you with.

You moan for him, willingly, as he takes all your tension and melts it like butter.

“Santiago,” you keen, and there it is again. A promise; a prayer; a poem.

A plea.

You hear him swallow thickly. Hear him exhale a sound like sea trapped in a seashell, his face dipped closer towards the shell of your ear in this new position. His breath continues to quicken as he manipulates your body, pliable under his sure hands, his warmth practically coiled around you like the fire around its fuel.

“Do you want my fingers?” he repeats, voice now flecked with grit, even as he remains slow and languid, not whipped into any frenzy. “Tell me.”

A stone plummets through your belly, sinking heat through your core at the mere suggestion he might touch you there too.

“Mmmph,” you plead – a strangled affirmative wrung from your chest, and Santiago’s hand reaches around, calm and slow and tantalising. He winds his arms between your legs and his index finger trials along the seam of your shorts, up towards your clit like he’s following a carefully laid fuse line. Like he knows precisely how to detonate you, and all he needs is a spark. “You want my fingers here?” he purrs, and you moan his name, throwing your head back into the crook of his shoulder. “Want me to help you like this too?”

You submit an unintelligible string of sounds to the air, which you hope he recognises as an affirmative.

“Sssshhh,” he soothes, as his fingers deftly flick open the button of your shorts and you squirm in search of his friction. “It’s okay. I got you. I got you, cariño.”

You sigh out a broken, guttural noise now, rolling your mound against his palm as his girthy fingers travel eagerly below the waistband of your clothing. Barrelling towards your want without dwelling on the implications even for a moment. On what this might mean. On what this may fix or further fracture.

It is too much to think about that, and it is enough to know that you need some relief.

Specifically, the kind of relief you have not been able to give yourself. The kind of relief you have not been able to find from elsewhere. The kind only Santiago knows how to give you. The only kind Santiago knows how to give you.

“Fuck. You’re soaked,” he praises, all rusty-voice and practiced fingers, and with the ease that the thick pads of him glide through your folds you know it is true. “Holy shit, come here.”

You would oblige if you were not so loose-limbed already; and so, in the next moment, Santiago is dragging you up towards him, settling your ass in the space before him on the porch step, so you sit a little higher. He is shucking your shorts and panties down and hooking your thighs over his parted, sturdy legs to spread you wide open. To give him better access to you so he can give you what you need.

Your hands clamp down on his thighs like claws, your back flush against his chest and your head still languishing in the apex of his neck, feeling the steady rhythm in his shoulder as his arm reaches between your legs. With his other arm he simply gathers you up and holds you close to him, until the warmth of his skin seeps right through to yours.

“Fuck! Santi,” you keen, voice ragged with need already as his fingers tease and circle where you need him. “More. Please, I need more.”

He does not disappoint. He plunges a girthy finger into your heat, and the lack of resistance is telling, your cunt opened up and eager for him as the heel of his hand rocks a steady rhythm against your clit. He goes slower than you would like, but it turns out to be the exact pace you need -two fingers now- dragging molten heat through your core with each curl and pump and scissor he applies to your giving walls.

“Ohhhh. Fuck!”

“I know, baby. This is what you need, isn’t it? I know.”

He does. He does know. He knows every damn inch of you and how to make you sing.

“That’s it. I’ve got you. Don’t come, Princesa. Not yet.”

That’s easier said than done. Especially as his rough voice - all honey and grit - filters into the shell of your ear. As the fleck of his stubble rasps against your neck as he sucks an angry mark into your skin. Your core flutters in straight-out defiance of his orders then, and he feels you clamp down on him, tightening around his fingers. “Ah ah,” he scolds. “Hold on to it for me. Gonna get you there. Don’t worry. I got you.”

Christ, you slosh around him as he makes you molten, and you feel his thighs begin to shake beneath yours. You feel his insistent hardness pressing at your back. “Fuck, princesa. I missed this pussy. Holy shit.”

“Santi. I- I can’t hold on.”

His thumb massages circles into your swollen, needy clit.

“No, baby. Hold on for me. I know you can, huh? Don’t even think. Let me give you what you need.”

“Mmmphhh,” you moan out like a woman possessed as Santiago builds you up.

He chuckles darkly into your neck, and smothers his spare palm over your mouth. “Shhhh. Quiet, hermosa. No-one else can take care of you like this, huh? I got you now.”

The way he’s touching you, fingers speared inside your wet heat, is everything you’ve needed for so long. God, you’ve so needed him to help you like this. And now, he’s finally giving you relief. It’s welcome, and it’s good; but you still have enough about you, even in this state of becoming putty in his lap, to realise that he’s not giving you everything. You turn your head, tipping your lips wantonly up to him, but he won’t kiss you. His arousal presses insistently at your lower back but he isn’t making any move to get himself off. It seems obvious, even in this state of coming undone, that even as you lose yourself he won’t allow himself to get lost in you; not entirely.

He’s navigated some extreme terrain in his time, but perhaps his feelings for you really are a jungle far too dense for him to navigate.

Still, you certainly do not feel any lack, even if you get the sense he is holding back. It would be hard to feel any lack at all with his thick, warm fingers buried in you up to the knuckle, stroking and curling with precision against your swollen arousal, coaxing hoarse moans from your lips which he buries in the meat of his cupped palm. The pad of his thumb rubs haphazardly -almost roughly- in circles over your clit, puffy with need. Your thatch of hair is soaked, and your plumped folds are slick with your pearly, moonlit juices.

“Holy fuck,” you rasp as Santiago’s fingers draw a broad circle deep inside your walls, stretching you open and sending a delicious spiral of bliss through your core. He curls his fingers against your g spot, rocks his palm roughly against the mound of you, and God, it’s so good. You’re on the edge, but you still find you can’t quite let go.

You don’t need him to give you everything, but you do need him to give you just a little more of what you’ve been craving. Just a little more healing.

“Santiago,” you plead, tears of emotion and bliss and disbelief and sadness balling in your eyes. Relief at the fact you get to feel his touch again, and despair at how long you may next endure the lack of it.

However, as though he senses what your body is telling him, that you are getting far too in your head by now to let go, you realise Santiago knows exactly what you need to get out of it. He always does. Always knows how to help you. “Mmpph,” you moan as he wraps his hand more tightly around your mouth and nose, playing with your air supply - just enough to provide a gentle thrill. To offer this simulation of a loss of control just long enough that you feel a secondary surge of adrenalin and arousal building within you. You gasp as he releases his palm and you suck his fingers easily into your mouth, wanting to feel full of him wherever you can. He obliges by shoving them deeper, over your tongue.

“That’s it,” he praises, soothes, encourages, feeling it coming before you do, reading the signs in your body. Almost immediately, pleasure blooms out from your middle, completely engulfing you.

You screw your eyes shut tight and you can barely even focus on his fingers pulsing in and out of your wet, suckering heat, or on this string in the middle of you being drawn so tight it’s about to snap. Instead you focus on him. On the warmth and sturdy form of him at your back. On the way he knows just how to touch you – where, and when, and how. The way he soothes you and relieves you. The familiar scratch of his stubble against your cheek. The soft, sweat-tacky rolls of his bare stomach cushioning your back, skin-on-skin where your t-shirt has ridden up your back. His meaty thighs. The familiar press of that hard promise up against you. But most of all his warm, sandy voice, slipping into the shell of your ear like the sounds and shushing of the sea.

Hermosa. Cariño. Princesa.

His words melting out of you like liquid pearls and making you shine.

He praises you, and the sounds of him slip inside you just like his fingers, a smooth glide like the surge of the tide devouring an aching shore. His touch relieves the ache, the burn, the fire, the hurt, as you find your release. You gush over his hand, your mouth open with a hoarse, hollow moan, silently echoing the roar of the sea as your whole body becomes liquid on top of his.

He holds you, and he works you through it, tears squeezed from your eyes with each wave of bursting, engulfing pleasure which radiates through your core – not blistering like the heat of your fire, but gentle and soothing.

Your breath is ragged now. You have the feel of a tide between your legs.

You are sated, and yet you want more of him. You may feel healed in some ways, but your whole body still sings for him like a wound.

He stays inside of you. Feels you for a moment, with a shuddered, satisfied moan you feel vibrate against your back before he draws his fingers out, painfully slow. You shudder too, your core still fluttering for him, and you would reach for him if you weren’t still boneless. Would seek to satisfy him too.

“Fuck. I missed your fingers,” you purr.

“Uh huh,” Santiago says, a little too morosely for your liking, and he unslots himself far too quickly from around your form. Far too quickly he comes to standing, leaving you feeling cold and alone on the porch stairs, shorts shunted down past your knees, exposing you to the night air.

“Don’t you want… something for you?” you ask in confusion, in hope, eyeing the bulge tenting at his crotch and the way his hand is hung curled at his side, his fingers still shined from you. You enjoy all of that, but you certainly don’t enjoy the heaviness bedding down on his brow, and you reach to pull up your shorts as quickly as you can, the moment of relief fast-retreating, like the deceptive tide.

“No,” he says firmly. “That was just for you.”

You bristle at the implication in his words, your momentary bliss falling quickly away.

He did you a favour.

You were the one undone by your desire – your want. Not him. You were the needy one who couldn’t be without him. Couldn’t even get off without him. And damn. Here he is, slow and controlled and, for the better part, seemingly unaffected.

You know that’s not wholly true – that he does still want you, but your eyes still swim when you wonder if his desire is subdued compared to what it used to be. If it has lessened.

Don’t you cause this frenzy in him anymore? This quickening, like he does with you? Is the flame burning in your chest -or your loins- not catching, any longer? Like the dying embers of this fire, is it almost out?

Could there truly be an end to this?

Soldiers. Friends. Lovers.

What next?

You had, at least, assumed something would be next.

And so, as you regard him, stoic and impassive, you can barely even look at him. “You’re right, Pope. This was probably a bad fucking idea.”

Of course it was.

You should know better than to think you can take a piece of him without wanting to devour the whole. After all, you could never see him in fragments – only all at once.

Had that always been your mistake, thinking that he could ever give himself over to you completely? He’s far too afraid of getting lost, even if he does hold the map to your heart in the palm of his hand. Strange then, because the palm of his hand is also where he has become so accustomed to yielding a weapon. Maybe for him, love and pain were always destined to feel the same.

You push past him, and you feel a pit open up in your middle.

“Goodnight, buddy,” you say, your tone surprisingly sour so soon after that. “Thanks a bunch for the fingerfuck.”

You guess the mindfuck came along for free.

You don’t want to hurt him. Don’t want to be bitter and to deepen this gulf between you all over again. But, apparently, you just can’t help yourself.

You don’t know what’s good for you.

#santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #santiago pope garcia #oscar isaac #ride or die series

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curiositydooropened · 2 months

Text

Ranged • 01: Firetower

You and Steve have been sent on a missing person's case, a park ranger in the Cascades went missing from his post after reporting a large area of downed trees. Could be something up your alley.

Pairing: special agent!Steve Harrington x special agent!Reader

Wordcount: 5742

Warnings: very slowburn, this fic is episodic, coworkers to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, canon-typical gore, weapons, fighting, murder, viruses, decay, monsters *This chapter contains mentions of animal harm, blood, vomit/nausea, potential character death, and whump/bad injuries - also hey, I'm not a doctor and this fic is free, so my inaccuracies might bug you. xo

This blog is 18+ only. I do not give permission for any of my fics to be duplicated, reposted, or put into AI. Thank you!

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Moodboard • 00: Prologue • 02: Home [Coming Soon]

Fire Lookout Tower 647 - Cascades

Fog blanketed the forest floor and just beyond, it coated the tops of trees, covering pine needles in vast, rolling smoke. Everything lacked saturation up here, everything but verdant moss and fern and branch, a sea of grey and green, damp and deep. The sunlight filtered in way far off, to the West, but everything out of its reach had begun to groan under the steady pelt of plummeting rain.

Rain pittered and pat against the tin roof and into the quickly filling bucket in the corner. Its splash zone had been haphazardly mopped with a shaggy old towel.

You watched the landscape shift beyond the clouds, wrapped in wool socks and a flannel blanket while your partner took his turn retrieving fire wood from its drying spot beneath the tower.

His presence was announced by the groaning of stairs and the creaking of a rusted spring on the door.

Steve had only smiled a handful of times since you met him, a painful stretch of soft features, the wrinkle never leaving his brow. To be fair, your job rarely warranted more than a polite grimace to townsfolk whose crops you’d left ablaze, whose family members you’d left on a slab.

Today was no different.

“This place is a shit hole,” he grumbled, rolling cut wood from his arms onto the ground in front of the stove.

You hummed, knowing better than to argue something so trivial before he had his dinner.

He hunched to stoke the fire, now mere ashes and embers that glowed red in the little iron stove. He was soaked to the bone, dark hair clinging to his forehead and around his ears. He’d have to cut it again before your next return to Base.

His hands were bright red, nipped cold and hard-worked, and you rolled your eyes at the pair of gloves he’d left on the rickety card table near the door.

“Fucking rain,” he muttered, shoving kindling in hopes for it to catch.

With a sigh, you pushed yourself upright and reached for your own rain slicker on its hook. A puddle had formed and seeped through the floorboards, creating a patch of darkened wood that ringed with all puddles that had come before. “I’m going to get water to boil.”

“Be careful.”

The spring creaked. Rain gushed from dips in the roof and splashed loudly against rocks on the hillside.

You glanced back at Steve. He was hunched in front of a started fire, worry etched between his brows.

He shrugged. “I slipped at the bottom of the stairs.” He gestured to the mud that streaked his left pant-leg. “Be careful.”

You nodded and stepped out into the deluge.

The window coverings provided a good roof for the porch, save a few leaks here and there, and you clung to the side of the building as your guard rail to round it. You’d put empty buckets on the south end. All five of them had all overflowed.

You picked the lightest one. You’d managed to haul it back across slippery planks, dozens of feet in the air, to the door before your right foot slipped out from under you. With a yelp, and the sting of bitter cold against your ass cheeks, you fell. The building teetered under your shifted weight, and you clung to the railing with pinched breath.

The spring creaked. Steve stood at the door with lumbered shoulders and that same frown, looking down a freckled nose at you. He picked up the bucket with one hand and held his other for you to take. “I said, ‘be careful’.”

While the water boiled and Steve grumbled about canned meatballs, you stripped out of wet jeans and remained in damp Long Johns, removing your socks and hat and gloves to hang near the fire.

The sun had already dipped far to the west, catching on split clouds in purples and oranges before it was swallowed up again by the grey.

“You get the radio working?” Steve sighed, adverse to the quiet.

You shook your head and stirred tomato paste around in the pot. After many meals with Steve, you were sure he grew up in the kind of household that only ate their meals on trays in front of the television. He could never really sit and appreciate the stillness. “Go ahead and tinker with it. Is there a game tonight?”

“There was,” he deployed a long antenna and fidgeted with a few dials. Static buzzed from the plastic between his hands. “Might be too late. What time zone are we in?”

“Pacific,” you explained. “Two hours behind.”

You felt lighter after food. Warmth settled over your chest and shoulders, and you huddled further into your blanket.

Steve’s hair dried a little, and you managed to coax him into taking one of your spare hats. The stitches stretched over the circumference. With a sigh, you slowly ripped out the project you’d been knitting and cast more stitches onto your needle.

The radio hadn’t worked, too far out of reach to hear the score, and it had been discarded. Instead, Steve hummed, and the fire crackled, and your needles clacked against one another. The rain had died down, too.

“Think we’ll find him?” He asked, picking at the frayed stitching on the baseball he’d been tossing around.

Your target was the missing tower keeper, a man named Les Joplin who hadn’t reported in a few days after he’d gone in search of what he had described to dispatch as a rotten cropping of trees in the east acreage.

You glanced back up at Steve, never knowing if he wanted you to answer honestly or not. Your fingers kept pace. Knit, purl, knit, purl. “Hope so.”

“My grandmother used to knit.” He nodded to the project slowly making way in your hands.

You hummed. You’d heard this story before. A few months back, you began to notice a pattern to the information Steve had given you about his former life, only snapshots, hand-picked. You wondered if he had been trained this way, or if he still didn’t trust you.

The repeated stories didn’t stop you from prying for more.

“What’d you call you grandmother?” You asked.

“What do you mean?” He frowned back at you.

“You know, ‘grandma’, ‘granny’, ‘nana’?”

He snorted, rolled his eyes, tossed the ball a few times. “Grandmother.”

You cocked a brow. “Grandmother? What, like the Queen?”

There it was, the softest uptick of the corner of his lips, a flash of amusement in his eyes as he rolled them. “Exactly like the Queen. I was lucky if I got to address her as anything other than ‘ma’am’.”

Another peak behind the curtain. You snickered and pressed on. “Mom or Dad’s mom?”

“Uh…” He frowned again, mulling something over. “Mom’s. My dad’s parents were old as shit, died before I was born.” Another insight.

“How’d they meet, your parents?”

“Huh?” He blinked back at you, brow in a proper frown now. “I don’t know.”

You’d lost him. You’d pressed too hard. With a sigh, you turned back to your knitting. Knit, purl. Knit, purl.

He shook his head, and his sleeping bag shuffled as he stood and stretched. He set the baseball back on the little table, and it rolled until it met the pot of leftover spaghetti sauce. “Listen, I’m gonna take a leak, and we should probably think about getting some sleep. Early morning tomorrow.”

You nodded, tucked your knitting back into your bag. “I’ll wash the dishes.”

“Thank you.” He said, and he exited the little hut. The stairs creaked his whole way down.

“Robin? No. No, Robin, no.”

You awoke to Steve’s muffled cries. His sleeping bag shifted around a twitching body.

This wasn’t the first nightmare, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last. You didn’t know who Robin was, and the fear in his voice dimmed your hope that she’d lived.

You swallowed to clear the sleep from your vocal cords before speaking his name into the darkness. It took several tries, a full shout, to snap him out of whatever version of Hell his subconscious had pulled him in, and when he did rouse, it was with force.

He shot from his pillow, gripping the hilt of a knife stashed under it, and glanced around the room. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

You sighed, tucked your face into your pillow, and murmured. “I’m cold.”

“What?” He peered at you.

It wasn’t a lie. The fire had gone out, and your toes had numbed slightly, and you’d argued with him when he agreed to the floor, so you were sure he was cold too. Maybe that had caused the nightmare. “I’m cold. Will you just get over here, please?”

You heard his groan, and a shuffle of sleeping bag as he pulled himself upright. His back and shoulders were silhouetted, broad and hunched. He wound his sleeping bag up between his fists, joints cracking as he made his way over to your cot.

“Is there room?”

You shifted impossibly closer to the wall and hugged your sleeping bag to you to expose just how much room was left on the little cot. Not much, if you were being honest, but you were cold, and you had hoped your presence beside him might calm the terrors that plagued him.

He spread his blanket out beside you before asking if you needed a sip of water.

You shook your head, but watched as he ambled across the room to the rickety card table for a swig from the canteen.

The rain had stopped, but fog blanketed the windows on all sides. The sloshing of the water in his bottle sent a shiver through you.

“Alright, I’m coming,” he grumbled, and returned to slide himself into bed beside you.

His arm came up first, once he’d settled, and you stiffened under his hold.

“What’re you doing?” You rubbed at tired eyes, trying to catch any glimpse of the curve of his nose.

“Warming you up, don’t make it weird.” He looped you in, scooping your sleeping bag up between the two of you. His other arm reached around your middle and pulled you close.

You weren’t surprised at his strength. He’d offered you a helping hand with more than one injury in the field. You’d seen him pull women and children from burning buildings. That one time he hauled a sheepdog from the river, both man and beast soaking wet and panting, dog tossed around his broad shoulders.

“Better?” His gruff voice fanned your forehead, deliciously warm.

You hummed, reaching aching cold hands out to warm against his chest.

He hissed under your touch and wrapped your fingers up in his own. “Didn’t I tell you to sleep next to the fire?” He scolded.

“No,” you hummed, letting your eyes grow heavy again. “You told me to take the cot.”

He grumbled something incoherent and adjusted on the tiny pad beside you. You knew he’d complain about a crick in his neck in the morning.

“Night, Steve,” you mumbled.

His nose tipped itself against your temple, and he sighed. “Get some sleep.”

He slept after that.

—

The rain made rivulets of mud and Earth. Where trails once climbed the mountainside, rocks and boulders now fell, surging into teeming river beds.

Your boots squelched beneath you, each step a slip away from disaster.

Steve stood a few yards ahead, more surefooted. He whipped at overgrowth with the business end of a machete. “Joplin!” He cried out, startling a few birds from their perches.

You glanced around, hand around the gun strapped to your thigh, just in case. If Joplin was eaten by a bear out here, or worse, you had to have confidence in protecting yourselves. “Les!”

Steve called your name. He stood with his machete extended, scrubbing at his tired eyes with the palm of his other hand.

Just beyond him, the forest had been blighted. Root to crown, these massive conifers were decimated. A widow maker forest, limbs fell at odd angles, having melted from the trunk. Green grass and fern and vine turned to black ash.

You cursed under your breath and took careful steps to meet your partner to ensure the ground didn’t swallow you whole. When you reached him, the rancid stench stung in your nostrils, watered your eyes. “Well, guess he wasn’t kidding.”

You glanced back up to the fire tower, now a mere speck on the horizon.

Steve’s jaw clenched. He nodded. “I’m gonna look for holes. Call it in, will you?”

With a sigh, you stripped the heavy pack from your back. Your shoulders ached in relief. “Be careful.” You warned, and watched as he took off at a slower pace into the patch of rot.

You kept an eye on him as you dialed, service spotty, but you were quickly patched through to dispatch. “Yeah, hi.” You offered up your badge number, called in reinforcements for a controlled burn.

“How big is the affected area?” The woman on the other lined cracked her gum between her molars.

You glanced around at the rot. This was small, relatively fresh. A chill rolled down your spine. You looked from Steve to the blanket of mist rolling downhill from the clouds. “About ten acres.”

“Alright, hon, we’ll get someone out there in the next day or so. Are you in need of emergency evac?”

“No, we’re good to hang out until the crew gets here. Thank you.” She hung up first, and you pushed the antenna back into the device. Before you could shove it back into your bag, however, you heard a cry, a moan, really, in the distance, carried on the wind, prickling the hairs at the base of your neck.

“Steve?” You called out, standing up straight to survey the area.

You heard it again, to your left.

You swung around. Steve was gone. You were alone.

You took off on a run to where you’d last seen him, careful not to trip over any loose roots, trying not to bump any more precariously hung branches from their roosts hundreds of feet in the air. You called for your partner, still clutching the piece at your side in one hand, the satellite phone in the other.

The noise was louder now, a grunt and a groan, two noises, two distinct voices.

You stopped, surveyed your surroundings, posted up on the good side of a half-rotted stump.

“Can you walk?” Steve’s voice hissed from nearby.

Your heart thumped wildly in your chest. You swung around, gun out, pointed toward the sound.

“I broke it,” another voice, unfamiliar, croaked. They were beneath you.

Rounding the stump, you found a hollowed out bit of ground wherein your partner was hacking away at the vines curled around the leg of an emaciated older man. This man was coated in mud and slime, curled hair sticking to his head. You sighed in relief and holstered your weapon.

“Les Joplin?” You asked, taking a few steps to the edge of the hole.

Both men jumped. Steve frowned back up at you before hacking away at another root.

Les gulped, nodded. Shit, you’d left your pack at the edge of the rot.

“Think you can limp it back to more solid ground? I’m going to call for an airlift.” You uncurled your knuckles from around the phone to dispatch the antenna and dial the number again.

Les winced, teeth grit, sweat streaking the mud on his forehead.

You pulled your partner’s gaze. His jaw ticked. He pushed hair from his eyes with the back of his hand. He nodded, threw the man’s arm over broad shoulders. “Alright, count of three?”

—

The rain came back as the air lift set down. Propellers pummeled large drops at you, sideways rain that stuck your clothes to your skin and cut off your breath.

You squeezed Les’s wrist as they strapped him to the gurney. His teeth chattered, face gray beneath a shiny mylar blanket. The ventilator obscured everything but his eyes, tired, frantic.

Steve spoke to the team. He was shouting, but you couldn’t hear his voice over the wind and the slap of rain.

Your hair stuck to the corners of your mouth.

Steve backed up to your front, shielding you behind his slim frame. He lifted a hand to wave as the helicopter ascended, clouds bending and melting beneath it.

When it was a high enough altitude, Steve linked a large hand around your wrist and tugged you upwards, through wind-whipped grass and mud, toward the lonesome fire tower.

The stairs were just as slick as the grass, and Steve kept a firm grip at your waist. To hold you upright or himself, you weren’t sure, but you felt anchored nonetheless.

When you finally summited, the world around you coated in a thick, grey cloud, you began to strip the soaked clothes from your body. Steve began to lodge firewood from the corner of the room into the little stove.

“We have to go back out there,” he grunted, lighting a match to kindling before tossing it in.

You groaned, unsticking your long-sleeve shirt from your back to wheel it over your head. “After lunch.” You pled.

You tried to stand your ground and not cower as Steve’s gaze swept your frame. He licked at pink lips, hair stuck to his face, his own clothes three shades darker than they were when you’d left the tower that morning.

“After lunch.” He conceded, unbuttoning his shirt. You watched his back muscles shift beneath the outline of a white tank top, the moles placed hither and thither.

You slipped a dry t-shirt over your head and began boiling water in a pot.

Steve’s knees were pulled to his chest, toes wiggling in dry socks.

You finished first, famished from your earlier excursion, and continued your knitting. The rhythmic clack of needles a metronome to the rain against the tin roof and pouring from spouts, the crackle of the fire, the steady in-take-out-take of your breath.

Steve eyed you warily, cheeks puffed around a meatball. He chewed, swallowed, and gestured with a fork toward the project in your lap. “What’re you making?”

“A hat,” you pinched your smile.

He reached between you to wrap thick fingers around the ball of yarn like a baseball. He pressed the fiber for a moment before nodding, licking something from between his molars. “I really like that color.”

You agreed. The burgundy would bring out the warmth of his eyes, the flush of his cheeks when he bickered with you.

“It felt good right? Helping Joplin.”

His words startled you, stitch slipping off the needle before you could catch it.

You blinked back at him, watched the worry etched between his brows, wondered what he could possibly be thinking, and you forced a bright smile. “Yeah, Steve, it felt great. That’s what this is all about, right? Saving people.”

He nodded, shrugged, tongued at his molars.

You can’t save everyone.

You picked your stitch back up and carried on. A few phrases turned in your mind, questions you’d posed to yourself before you dared ask him. ‘Doesn’t every save feel good?’ ‘Do you think Les’s leg’ll be okay?’ ‘Who couldn’t you save?’

You glanced to the spot on the floor where he had been tossing and turning the night before. ‘Who’s Robin?’ You couldn’t. You knew he’d throw himself into one of those broody nightmares, and you had a job to do.

“So,” you bundled your knitting and stuffed it back into the bag you brought it in, “what’re we thinking? Demodog? Demogorgon? Grizzly?”

“Yeah, you wish it’s a Grizzly.” Steve snorted, making to wash the dishes.

You did wish it was a Grizzly. At least you could shoot a Grizzly, watch it fall with a groan and lie peaceful against hard ground. Demodogs meant tunnel dwellers, a pack. Demogorgon meant portals.

“Hey, before we head out there, can I ask you something?” He stood with his hands full of items to be washed, hair finally drying into wisps of curls near his ears.

“Shoot,” you pulled yourself to a stand, rolled your stiff shoulders, got a little closer to the stove to warm your hands.

“Do I talk in my sleep?”

You had half a second to make your decision, and “No” came out faster than that. You weren’t sure why you lied, maybe it was the same reason you hadn’t asked him about the name he’d been crying out for. You had a job to do, and you couldn’t afford a sulking partner ten steps ahead.

His scowl proved he was weighing you up, trying to call your bluff. Apparently he convinced, he shrugged, and said, “Oh, well, you do.” Then he opened the creaky door and let himself outside to do the washing up.

—

The rain continued as you hunted. You slipped twice, twisting an ankle on a bunch of rocks hidden behind tall grass, but you’d had worse, so you persisted until the internal ache wore off and the external ache from the cold had you gritting your teeth.

“I fucking hate this place.” Steve dropped another meatball into the grass beside you. “It reminds me of that…” He glanced around, in the air, searching for phantom airborne monsters.

You hadn’t gone into the other dimension, not for long enough to really get a feel for it, not like Steve. You knew it was cold and damp and miserable though, and these mountains were starting to feel just as desolate, just as grey.

You came to the rot again, stench heavier under the blanket of ozone.

Steve pressed his lips into a whistle, low and slow, coaxing whatever may be lurking.

Your finger found the trigger at your hip. Bullets didn’t kill an inter dimensional creature, but it’d sure as Hell slow it down.

Without a response to his call, you carried on, following him and his endless trail of meatballs past the stump in which you’d found Les Joplin. Steve poked his head inside, but vines had already begun to seam it up, devouring the flesh of the tree that rot there.

“Do you remember what direction he said he saw it?” You asked, back to Steve as you surveyed the area. It could be anywhere, whatever it is. It was probably watching you now, smelling you, sensing you.

“Let’s head East,” Steve signaled.

You doubled back and headed toward a particularly treacherous outcropping along the hillside. Boulders carved rivulets in the landscape, water gushing over rock and stone in glorious splendor.

Your big toes were beginning to ache from the cold, and the sound of rain and wind and now waterfalls was hurting your ears. With a huff, you seated yourself on a soaked rock and pulled your pack from your back to salvage a chocolate bar.

“What’re you doing?” Steve snapped. He’d already trudged a good distance from you, and must have stopped when he didn’t hear the patter of your feet behind him.

“Maybe it was a deer,” you offered, ripping back the mylar packaging and indulging in one semi-sweet bite. It didn’t melt instantly, your teeth and jaw too cold to warm it.

“It wasn’t a deer.” That permanent crease in Steve’s forehead stuck out under a curl of wet hair.

“Come have a bite.” Your teeth chattered, hand extended. The chocolate was instantly pelted with rain.

Steve sighed and took a step toward you, and then promptly disappeared.

—

The cavern was deep, about ten feet high and thirty feet wide, a whole expanse of the forest that had just sunk in on itself. It looked like the vines hadn’t quite worked their way here, but the blight and the rain had washed away bits of the mountainside. The outcropping fell into the land and Steve had fallen into the rocks.

“Don’t come any closer!” He shouted, teeth grit in pain. He adjusted his leg, and you saw the blood spill from his knee cap to discolor his pant legs.

“I’m going to radio for help. How bad is it? Do you need to tourniquet it?”

“No , it’s just a scrape.” He lied through his teeth. “I can’t see how far this goes, so go slow, and be careful.”

With a nod, you made for your pack, muttering under your breath about your bossy partner, always getting himself into trouble. Then the breath was swept out of you as you free-fell into the cavern, too.

Your ankles rolled, the one from earlier crying out from added injury, and you jaw slammed closed on a portion of your tongue when you hit the cavern floor. It was softer than you expected, wet mud and dirt breaking most of your fall.

Your name echoed with the pounding of your heart as you regulated and pull yourself to a stand, brushing mud from your hands to your thighs. Water rushed into the cavern from above. Not enough to cause concern, but you stared up at the hole in the sky with a grimace.

Steve called your name again, and you turned to face him.

“Are you alright?” He asked, eyes wide with worry.

You shrugged, nodded. “My ankle hurts.”

“Is it broken?”

You assessed the injury, tried to roll it back into place. A sharp, shooting pain spilled up your spinal column. You nodded. “Probably.”

“I told you to be careful.” Steve scoffed from his lean against the far wall. He’d made no effort to rescue you.

“Is your leg broken?” You mapped your way to him, a slow and steady course through rocky terrain. Each step limped, you gripped the roots tied into the walls beside you.

“No,” Steve shook his head. “Just a bad cut.” His large hand shook, pressed to a gash that was dying the rainwater red.

“Well,” you sighed, “if the meatballs weren’t good enough…”

“Shut up,” he shifted in place, hand outstretched to help you over the last huge boulder. “Careful, sharp bit there.” He nodded to a likely culprit, a jagged bit of rock that stuck up at an odd angle. An odd substance pooled near the bottom, and you tried not to wretch when you realized it was likely the fat from Steve’s thigh.

“We need to get you off your feet.” You instructed, carrying his weight to help him find a good bit of stone that was flat enough, but not too slippery for him to rest. It proved to be quite the undertaking.

“It stopped raining,” he mused when he’d settled, the two of you wedged into a pit of mud that looked out of the gaping mouth onto grey skies.

He was right. You hadn’t noticed it beneath the swell of water surging downhill, and the patter that continued on the other edge of the cave, but the rain had stopped, or at least slowed.

“Did you play baseball in high school?” You asked, picking through the rubble for a hefty enough sized rock.

“Why?” Steve asked, perturbed by your questioning, but you noticed, for once, he didn’t have the energy to argue.

You could imagine him playing baseball, chewing sunflower seeds in the dug out, hiking around the bases in those tight little white pants. You smiled and tossed him the rock.

He caught it one-handed, clearly annoyed you’d thrown it in the first place.

You pointed to the spot you fell. “Throw it really hard. My pack’s up there. Might knock it into the hole.”

“Your pack-!?” Steve closed his eyes, took a few calming breaths. Then he shot you a look before hocking the rock as far as he could throw. It was very impressive.

You both waited with bated breath, but the impact created no further damaged, and you slumped into one another, asses wet and legs throbbing. “I have my flare,” you explained, patting the inside pocket of your jacket. You always kept one, and a lighter, filled, just in case.

Steve sighed. “Me too.” He was just loopy enough to flash you a tired smile.

“Alright, big boy,” you shook at his bicep to keep him alert and shrugged out of your jacket to remove your sweater. The air was warmer down her, and damp. Your breath fogged. “You’re going to have to stay awake until morning. So it’s time to tell me a story.”

Steve winced with each adjustment as you wrapped your sweater around his leg to aid with pressure. His hands still trembled, flesh of his palms bloodied, and you elevated his leg a little higher, pushing him into the mud at his back.

“What kind of story?” He asked, teeth chattering.

You hunched beside him and took both of his bloody hands into your own. The whole place smelled of Earth and iron. “Tell me about Indiana.”

He groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Come on. What position were you on the baseball team?”

He grit his teeth and shook his head. “I didn’t play baseball. Track and field.”

You smiled and unzipped his coat to let yourself in, arms wrapped around his trembling frame. You pressed your face to his throat, nestled under the crook of his jaw where stubble had begun to poke and scratch. “Alright, tell me about that then. Did your high school sweetheart cheer you on from the stands? Steve, Steve, he’s our man, if he can’t do it, no one can!” You actually managed to rah a chuckle out of him.

He winced again, his chin bouncing into your head. “She wasn’t a cheerleader. She was on the school paper.”

You changed your tone, put on a Trans-Atlantic accent. “Aaaaand they’re off. Steve Harrington takes the lead. Have you ever seen anything quicker on its feet? A horse, maybe.”

He snorted, swung his arm around you. “Has anyone ever told you how obnoxious you are?”

“You have,” you nodded. “A number of times. Kind of rude, actually. I’m always saving your ass.”

He chuckled and mumbled an apology into your hair.

“What else can you tell me about Indiana?” Your own exhaustion had begun to creep around the corners of your mind, hearing the dull thud of Steve’s heartbeat match the ache in your ankle and shin and thigh.

When he didn’t respond, you prodded at his chest. “Steve.”

He shushed you, gripping your arm a little tighter.

You were suddenly very alert. You could hear birdsong just over the ripple and rush of water over the rocks. You heard it too, the distinct clicking growl of a flower-faced beast.

“Can you move?” Steve muttered into your hair, barely a whisper.

You nodded, swallowed, reached for the flare at your side.

“My knife,” he said. “Can you see it?” He nodded to where you’d found him.

You shifted in his arms, hoping the beast couldn’t hear the grunt he emitted between clenched molars. There, where rubble met a river of mud, you saw the glint of his knife.

With a deep breath and a strain of every muscle in your body, you hoisted yourself onto your good leg and began your precarious hobble to your weapon. The rocks twisted under your feet, and the pain churned your stomach.

“Easy,” Steve guided, his breath shallow. “You’ve got this.”

You managed to dip yourself low enough, balanced on one leg, to wrap your fingers around the hilt and lift it from the rubble. You caught yourself on the wall and released a breath you’d been holding.

The knife was a bit muddy, but mostly fine. It glinted in the diminishing sunlight, flashing the walls a pale pink red before your heard the call again. A rattled click preceded the visage that peered over the cavern mouth.

The dog’s face opened, all teeth and fleshy flower petals, and before Steve had a chance to instruct you, the thing was on you, and you were elbow-deep in Demodog. It’s teeth scraped and tore at the nylon of your parka and one final dying breath rattled from its small frame before it squelched off of your blade and to the ground.

“It’s not alone.” Steve warned from his spot on the floor.

You nodded, grit your teeth, and readied your stance for another.

—

Three demodogs died at your hands and burned. The acrid sting of burning flesh kept you awake, your body rejoicing at the warmth.

You managed to keep Steve awake, although his skin had paled and his eyelids drooped.

The smoke alerted the helicopter before your flare did.

Oxygen mask over your face, you linked your fingertips into Steve’s and offered him a smile. He was already asleep by the time you rose, higher and higher above cloud coverage and rain. You slipped up and away from the fire tower. Up and away from verdant hills and from rot and decay.

Steve’s grasp was loose in your hand, and you wondered what he dreamt about now. You hoped it was peaceful.

You finished his hat beside his hospital bed while you watched the latest game. Someone ran a home run. Steve cheered. You looped the last few stitches together and weaved in your ends.

“This is for you,” you tossed it onto his lap. The burgundy was stark against white sheets.

Steve frowned back at you, fingers toying with the fabric. “For me?”

You nodded. “You needed a wool hat. Just put it on and be grateful.”

He did as instructed, smile refusing to play on handsome features. He cocked an eyebrow to get your input. It was exactly as you’d hoped, a sweet contrast that a brought out the honeyed brown of his eyes, the flush of his cheeks.

You bit back a smile, rolled your eyes. “Maybe you’re right. Your ego doesn’t need this boost. Give it back.”

He smiled at that, a ruefully shy thing that had your heart pitter-pattering like rain on a tin roof. “No. It’s mine.”

“Steve,” you let your question linger on your tongue for a moment, wondering if you ought to ask it, if you ought to push.

He hummed, attention drawn back to the television.

You swallowed, let the question die. Maybe another day, you’d find out who Robin was, what happened to them.

“Yeah?” He glanced back at you, brown eyes wide with concern.

You smiled. “What did I say in my sleep?”

Once again, the corners of pink lips turned up, and he shook his head. “I’ll never tell.”

---

Moodboard • 00: Prologue • 02: Home [Coming Soon]

#steve harrington fic #steve harrington #ranged wip #ranged fic #steve harrington slowburn #steve harrington episodic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington whump #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington coworkers to lovers #stranger things #stranger things fic

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jeewrites · 4 months

Text

Hold Fast | Ch. 1 Will Squat for Dinner

Series Master List

Inspo: In an IG reel @ tashabraziliano asks a guy at the gym to play a game where if she squats him he has to buy her dinner at Nando’s.

Rating: M for this one shot, but this blog is 18+ MDNI

A/N: Thank you to @bloviating-vy for being my beta and my write or die! Grateful to everyone who voted in my poll and @katareyoudrilling for encouraging me to post. In the Hold Fast AU all the guys make it back from S. America, additional details TBD if this ends up being a series

Word Count: ~4.0k

Tags: no y/n, gymbff!Benny, alcohol, swearing, reader is a powerlifting girlie described as short, Tom is alive unfortunately (we hate Tom), alcohol, brief body insecurity and Frankie being down on himself, Tom owns a bar, Pope owns a gym, alternating POV with one brief Benny POV

next chapter >>

The first time you went to train at Pope's Gym, Benny wouldn’t stop talking your ear off during your workout. When you finally got a word in edgewise, you made a bet with him that if you could squat him, he would shut the fuck up and let you finish your workout in peace. To his amazement, not only did you squat him, you repped him 3 times before setting him down to raucous applause. You’d been gym besties ever since. It didn’t hurt that he was nice to look at with his dirty blonde hair and penchant to go sans shirt so he could flaunt his abs as frequently as possible. Plus, his big golden retriever energy never failed to brighten your day.

Benny liked to tease you about the gym you used to go to that had vanity lighting, a smoothie bar, and chilled eucalyptus-scented towels. While Pope's had the most lifting platforms of any gym in town, you were adjusting to the lack of central A/C and other amenities you were used to. Pope’s was housed in a large warehouse space, bare metallic bones, with multiple commercial rolling doors instead of a proper HVAC system. Besides the rows upon rows of platforms, a selection of assault bikes and ergs lined one wall of the gym, while a section of accessory machines collected dust in the corner.

You learned which platforms got the most airflow depending on which rolling door was open and which ones the massive fans covered best. You had made the switch because you had outgrown your old gym which catered to the general public. The bougie public, Benny liked to remind you. You had started lifting heavy and wanted to lift heavier, so you found yourself signing up at Pope's after Pope himself had given you the tour around the space. You learned that Pope had started the gym after coming back from Colombia wanting to promote health and strength in the community while getting into better shape himself. Looking at the peach shape of his ass you could bounce anything off of, you knew Pope had been putting the work in.

Benny worked the front desk at Pope's between training and fighting MMA. His older and blonder brother Will would come by to work out, but he was often leaving when you were arriving so you didn't know him well beyond a friendly wave. Plus, it seemed like Benny used the majority of the word quota between the Miller brothers. Pope's grew on you and you got to know the regulars who trained the same time you did; enough that you gave them cute identifying nicknames in your head (often without knowing their actual names) and worried about them when they missed more than a session or two.

Benny was surprised to see you walk into Pope's one night an hour before closing since you always trained in the mornings. You had given him a short head nod instead of your usual big smile before stalking to a platform and slamming your bag down.

"Yooooo, everything ok?" he asks as he walks over.

"Does it look like I'm okay," you huff, aggressively wrestling your knee sleeves on. Glancing at him, you immediately apologize when he hesitates and takes a step back.

"Sorry, Benny. I'll be a lot better after I pick up some heavy things and put them down."

"Might help if you want to talk about it?" he ventures leaning against the barbell.

You finish tying your squat shoes before looking at him again with dejected eyes and sighing.

"I just went on a crappy date with a guy from one of those dating apps," you sigh again. "He spent the whole time talking about himself and how much he works out. Then he had the fucking audacity to question me when he asked how much I could lift."

"Fucking asshole!" Benny feels himself getting steamed.

"He just stormed out of the restaurant and left me with the bill when I refused to change my answer," you shrug, but Benny sees your jaw tick. "Apparently, I squat and deadlift more than he does and he couldn't date someone who could do that." You roll your eyes and huff.

"WTF! What a total loser. You don't need a guy like that who doesn't appreciate you," Benny replies incensed. He sees your face fall for a moment, eyes downcast and tight.

"I just — I've been trying to put myself out there again and it sucks," you mumble, cheeks flush with embarrassment. "It's also been kinda lonely since I moved here, and I guess I could just use more friends, too."

"I'M YOUR FRIEND!"

"Yeah, my gym friend! We don't do anything outside of this hot, sweaty box Benny," you remind him with a small smile and playful shove to get him off your barbell.

Benny decides this is completely unacceptable and immediately remedies this by inviting you to the next hangout with him and his ex-Delta Force friends at Redfly's, a local bar nearby. "You know Pope and Will already," he reassures, "Tom's the owner of the bar and he's an asshole, but he's our asshole. And there's Catfish — we call him Fish for short. We've been trying to get him to come work out here, but he's been busy with his new pilot job for the hospital. And he shares custody of his 3-year-old daughter with his ex."

He could see your brain turning over all the information he was throwing at you. You don't seem to react either way to the news that Fish has an ex and a daughter. As you adjust the bar height you respond, "You sure? Don't want to crash a regular thing that you have with your guys."

"Nah, it'll be great! They'll love you!" Benny's determined to get you to come.

You hand him your phone. "Well... okay. Text me the details?"

With your phone in hand, Benny puts his number in to text himself and then convinces you to show him your dating profile. Between sets of squats you both take turns swiping on possible matches, Benny teasing you on your picks. Ever observant, Benny notices your preference for profiles with tall, brown-haired, brown-eyed candidates. As you work through your next set, Benny sneaks his phone out and immediately texts Fish.

Redfly's was what you expected for a bar run by an ex-delta force asshole. Dimly lit, buncha mismatched tables and chairs, lots of dark grain wood, and an air of neglect despite being quite clean. It was mostly empty except for a few grizzled guys who screamed regulars, nursing beers at the bar. Lots of beers on tap, but not so much for cocktail options. Not that you were a big drinker anyway. If anything, all the training made you an extremely cheap date. But damn, if you were going to drink, you wanted it to be a solid cocktail.

"THERE SHE IS!" Benny bounds over to you before grabbing your hand and dragging you over to the table in the corner. He introduces you to Tom who was standing by the table chatting with the guys. Tom gives a half-hearted greeting before stalking off back to the bar. Pope gives you a big smile and hug, "Good to see you hermosa, don't mind Tom. That was downright friendly for him." You snort as you settle into your seat next to Pope. Will also greets you with a small wave and an offer to pour you a beer from the pitcher.

"That's okay, I'm not much of a beer drinker." You wince, wrinkling your nose.

"I thought you said she was cool," Pope teases Benny who rolls his eyes and looks at you with faux betrayal.

"How about I buy shots for the table? Would that make me cool?" you smirk, getting up to go to the bar.

"Only if I get one too," says a warm, baritone voice from behind you. A tall, handsome man slides into the last vacant seat across from yours. Soft brown curls threaten to escape the Standard Oil cap nestled on his head. The warmest brown eyes smile at you as he holds your surprised gaze. "Hi, I'm Fish. Sorry, 'm late."

You want to trace the golden skin stretched deliciously along the column of his neck. Run your fingers through those curls that look so, so incredibly soft. And the strong curve of his nose... You snap out of your reverie before you respond with your name. "Better get those shots then," you say, trying not to trip over your unexpectedly shaky legs. Holy shit, why the fuck didn't Benny mention his friend Fish was gorgeous?

When Benny bugged him to come to the Friday night hangout at Redfly’s, Frankie hadn’t given it a second thought. The exuberant text from Benny, “You coming this week right? Got someone from Pope’s coming to meet you guys!!!” had two too many exclamation points for his taste. He figured Benny had a new lifting partner he wanted the guys to meet and his attendance had been pretty spotty between the new EMS pilot gig and balancing shared custody with Vanessa.

So when he walked into Redfly’s and overheard you say “… shots for the table?” He just assumed Tom had finally hired some help in the form of a very cute new waitress.

It wasn’t until he asked the guys when Tom hired you, eyes not leaving your form as you walked away, did he realize the absolute error in his assumption. “That’s my friend from the gym, Fish. SHE’s from Pope’s,” Benny rolled his eyes.

“C’mon hermano, you know Tom’s too cheap to hire help and too much of a pendejo for help to stick around,” Pope added.

Frankie pulled his cap low over his eyes and slid down his seat. He could feel himself flush. Fuck, he thought. Just made an ass out of myself demanding a shot from a total stranger.

You had frozen for a moment after he introduced himself before offering your name with a bit of a grimace. He thought you were gorgeous though and smelled incredible, fresh and citrusy with hints of something sweet and floral that lingered even after you had walked away.

“So, whaddya think, Fish?” Benny prods. "She’s smart, pretty, super strong, and a total sweetheart. Should ask her out."

Frankie flushes a deeper red. “S’outta my league Benny.”

“Aw, c’mon Fish, you gotta get back out there,” Benny persists. "Made it easy for you too. I happen to know you’re exactly her type."

“What, she into out of shape, 40-year-old, divorced, single dads with a toddler?” Fish grumbles. He hadn’t dressed particularly well tonight either, just his usual worn khakis and old faded navy t-shirt. Hadn’t suspected Benny was going to try to set him up tonight, although with Benny you never knew what you were getting yourself into.

“Might’ve mentioned summa that to her. She didn’t even blink, Fish. You got a shot and you should take it.”

Frankie finally tears his eyes away from you. You had just said something that made Tom smile ever so briefly and he wanted to know what you said. Frankie didn’t even realize Tom smiled anymore.

He sees Pope giving Benny that look that said Pope knew Frankie was indeed interested in you, but needed some extra encouragement and to get out of his head. How a single look conveyed all of that spoke to the years and shit they’d all been through together.

“Gonna help her bring over the drinks,” Benny says, popping out of his chair before Frankie could tell him to keep his big mouth shut.

He lifts his cap and runs his fingers through his hair. He hadn’t even tried to comb his fucking hair before coming out tonight. He slides the cap back on hoping it catches the more unruly curls.

“You’re a total catch, Fish,” Pope says, pouring him a beer. “Don’t count yourself out before even shooting your shot.”

“Could just be a coffee date. Don’t overthink it,” Will seconds.

Frankie takes a big pull of his beer. Easy for these two to say. Both Pope and Will worked out regularly at the gym and had the physiques to show for it. As much as Frankie had insisted everyone needed to get back on their game when they got back from Colombia, he was the only one out of the five of them who hadn't.

At least it didn’t feel like it with his achy back and bad knees. Sure, he had finally gotten his pilot’s license reinstated and now shared custody of his daughter. But he was self-conscious of his soft stomach, especially next to Benny whose abs were definitely the example given in the dictionary next to “rock-hard.” What did he have to offer you besides a mountain of baggage and PTSD? Maybe if he just kept his mouth shut everything would be fine and he’d survive tonight without embarrassing himself.

At this point, you are willing to brave Tom the asshole to collect yourself before sitting across from Frankie and his big brown eyes again. Tom raises an eyebrow when you order six shots ("One's for you asshole," you say to Tom with a teasing glare) and ask if he could make an Aviation. You swear he gives you the faintest smile before grumbling about ridiculous froufrou cocktails, but he wasn't born yesterday and yes he could make you one.

Benny sidles up to you at the bar as you wait for Tom to finish making your drink, offering to help you carry the drinks back to the table. "You doing ok? You seem nervous," Benny observes as you tap your fingers on the bar.

"Why didn't you warn me Fish is fucking hot?" you pointedly whisper back.

Benny grins at you as he leans back on his elbows against the bar, "Fucking knew it. Totally thought he'd be your type, girlie."

"You trying to set us up??" you glare at him.

Benny shrugs with exaggerated innocence. "Maaaaybe."

You huff, "Does he know that? Am I even his type?" You cringe inwardly at your insecurity.

"Well considering he hasn't taken his eyes off you since you left the table makes me think you are," Benny smirks. The smug look stays on his face.

For once you're glad you took more than five minutes to put yourself together before walking out the door. You picked a pair of jeans that hugged your curves and a fitted top with a very complementary neckline. Black-heeled booties gave you a few inches and made your legs look longer than they were. Worth the hassle of walking in at least for one night. The lightest dusting of make-up, mostly eyeliner and glossy lip balm, highlights your facial features.

"So maybe I should shoot my shot then, hmm?" you wink at Benny with a knowing smile.

"If you're thinking what I'm thinking…," Benny grins thinking back on the day you two met.

"That's very purple," Fish observes as you and Benny set down the drinks for the table.

"It's an Aviation. You might like it considering you're a pilot, mmh?" you respond with a smile. Okay, you've collected yourself. Sort of. Let's see if you remember how this flirting thing goes.

"What are we taking shots to celebrate?" Pope asks.

"How about to new, strong, friends?" you quip.

"I'll cheers to that!" Benny raises his glass.

Conversation is light and fun with the guys. You marvel at their connection and closeness as they teased and talked like people who have been through some shit together over the years. You convince Fish to try the Aviation to which he declares it a "very fancy purple" and keeps sneaking sips much to your amusement. They fold you into their conversation, asking about your training, and what competitions you might try this season. They praise Pope about how the gym has flourished and rib him about his ever-revolving door of beautiful women.

"What about you, Fish? You thinking about getting back out there and dating?" Benny asks before flicking his eyes over to you. You remind yourself to thank Benny profusely for being the best wingman ever.

"'Dunno. Not sure where to even start," Frankie mumbles into his beer, casting his eyes down.

"I have an idea," you give Frankie your best coy smile.

"Yeah?" he breathes looking up at you. Those damn brown eyes.

"I have a game for you," you offer before taking a breath. “If I squat you, you get to buy me dinner.” Your heart is thrumming in your chest and you feel your cheeks flush, but damnit, you were going to shoot your fucking shot. "But if I can rep you, I want the whole nine yards. Pick me up at my place, flowers, dinner and dessert."

"You — you think you can squat me?" Fish looks a bit surprised, "I— it's, it's not that I don't think you can. But 'm... A lot bigger than you... 'm out of shape." His ears pink at the last part as he cups one hand over the back of his neck.

"I know I can. Do we have a deal?" you smile at him with encouragement and extend your hand across the table. Fish hesitates, but you try not to assume why.

"Jesus, Fish, if you don't take her up on it, I will," Pope winks at you.

Fish glances between you and Pope for a brief moment.

He reaches out and shakes your hand. "Okay, deal." You try not to get distracted by the way his large hand engulfs yours.

"Let's go, brown eyes," you tell him as you stand up from your chair and whip your hair up into a high ponytail.

"You're going to do this in heels?" Fish asks as he gets up from his chair with a grunt. Christ, he's so tall. And broad. You shrug and look up at him through your lashes, “I mean, Ginger Rogers did everything that Fred Astaire did. She just did it backwards and in high heels.”

You move so you stand with your side towards his front.

“I'm going to put my hand here,” you gesture to his right inner thigh just above the knee. "Is that okay?"

"Yep."

"Alright, you ready?"

He nods.

You carefully slump him over your shoulders in a fireman's carry, gripping tightly to his upper arm and thigh. You can feel the warmth of his body pressed deliciously across your shoulders. He's so warm.

You brace.

Benny's out of his seat, whooping and hollering. Pope's leaning forward, elbows on his knees, clapping, "Let's go, let's go!" Will's grinning and shaking his head in amusement. The regulars at the bar sneak glances over in your direction.

Frankie catches himself remarking on the particular shade of purple out loud when you return to the table with Benny bearing shots and a suspiciously purple beverage. He realizes after you respond and the dazzling smile you give him that you’re flirting with him. He thinks?? He’s so out of practice. God, he’d do anything for you to smile at him like that again.

When you slide your drink over to him to try he surprises himself by taking a sip. He’s even more surprised that he likes it. Crisp juniper dances across his tongue followed by a delicate floral sweetness and a touch of citrus with a spiced cardamom and anise finish. This very purple drink tastes the way you smell. And the giggle you give him when he calls it a “very fancy purple” blooms warmth through him, settling low in his core. He can only think about how he can elicit that sound from you again.

Which is how he misses Benny asking him if he’s thinking about getting back out there and dating. Fucking Benny and his goddamn big mouth.

But then you’re smiling at him again, telling him, single-dad, divorcee Francisco Morales, you have an idea. He’s looking at you and he can barely breathe as your eyes sparkle with a mischievous glint and your plush, glossy lips propose a game.

For a moment he’s confused. Did you not want to go out to dinner with him? Because if he’s honest, he doesn’t think you could squat him. He’s so much bigger than you. And he’s pretty sure if he tried, he could put you in his pocket. But then you’re brimming with confidence and extending your hand out to strike a deal.

It’s when Pope — fucking Pope — threatens to play your game in his place that Frankie is engulfing your delicate hand in his large one. You surprise him with a firm handshake and it’s then that he can feel the callouses across your palm. Callouses from many, many reps with the barbell.

Frankie finds himself towering over you, realizing you’re about to try and squat him in heeled booties. He vaguely hears you ask for consent to touch his inner thigh just above his knee before he finds himself suspended horizontally in the air across a set of firm shoulders, anchored by two small hands. He can feel when you brace, feel your entire core expand. The muscles across your shoulders and back flex underneath your fitted top. And suddenly he’s moving up and down, steadily with control.

You end up squatting Fish five times before setting him back down gently with a breathless giggle. He's towering over you again and you just want to press yourself into his broad chest and envelope yourself in the smell of his body wash.

"Dinner?" you smirk up at him.

"Wow, yeah, dinner on me," Fish flushes, impressed and a little dazed.

"It's a date then," you quip, poking him in the rib before you sit back down at the table. You notice his brown eyes spark with realization at your comment.

Will, Benny, and Pope all high-five you. Cheeks still pink, Fish pulls his chair around to sit closer to you. Tom wanders back over to the table grumbling that Redfly's isn't that kind of establishment with theatrics like you just pulled. But he also sets down an Aviation along with another pitcher of beer before returning to the bar.

"He's just jealous you didn't try to squat him," Benny laughs. You giggle in response as the conversation around the table picks back up.

Feeling Fish's gaze on you, you slide your cocktail over to him. A frisson of electricity shoots up your entire arm when his fingers brush against yours as he takes your cocktail glass.

You tilt your head towards him, your eyes meeting his warm brown ones, and whisper, "By the way, my favorite flowers are dahlias."

Frankie lost count by the time you repped him the third time. Just awed by you having the strength to carry him like this. He decides to just enjoy the rest of the ride.

When you set him back upright he almost melts into a puddle at the breathless giggle you let out. He catalogs that sound in his mind. He wants to brush back the hairs that have escaped your ponytail and he already misses your touch, wants to close the space between your bodies somehow without being creepy.

He gets lost in your eyes when you gaze up at him, he’s definitely over a head taller than you, and ask, “Dinner?”

Frankie is pretty sure he responds in the affirmative, still a bit dazed and very impressed.

It’s when you confirm it’s a date that his brain fritzes, reboots, and takes a minute to come back online. He blinks several times at the realization. He has a date. With you.

next chapter>>

Notes: Dahlias symbolize elegance, creativity, positivity, and growth. It also represents inner strength, likely due to the plant's ability to tolerate harsh conditions.

"Ginger Rogers did everything that Fred Astaire did. She just did it backwards and in high heels.” — Ann Richards

🙏🏽 Thank you so much for reading my first fic! I'm bad at tumblr and new to tags/warnings/fan fics in general, so if I missed something please let me know.

I am open to constructive feedback but please be gentle with this baby powerlifting writer, yeah? I might be able to squat you, but I'm a big ol' softie.

Aaand I'm thinking about expanding on these characters and making Hold Fast into a series if anyone would want to read it. I may or may not already have a Frankie POV at Pope's Gym where he gets to see reader in her element. 👀

Taglist: @katareyoudrilling @christinamadsen @rebel-held

#frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfic #frankie morales x reader #frankie x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal characters #triple frontier #pedro pascal cinematic universe #hold fast a frankie x powerlifting!reader fanfic #happy frankie friday #frankie friday

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live-laugh-lenney · 3 months

Note

Hi just got into reading your writing, I adore it ❤️❤️

Was just wondering if you could write about George while during labour and after cuddling with a cute baby. I feel like he would be so cute and helpful 😂😂

thank you for coming by my blog and checking out my stuff, that means a whole lot to me! if you wanna check out the previous girl-dad!george blurb then you can read it here. xx

nearing the last few weeks of her pregnancy, all yn wants to do is stay at home.

as much as george tries to coax her out for some fresh air, just for a walk around the park down the road or sitting in the background of on one of chris' football shoots so she could get some social activity in as well as some time outside, she denies every invite that comes her way. she just doesn't feel up to it.

and george understands.

"i'm fat, i waddle instead of walk, i look gross and i haven't showered for about four days because i'm tired lugging this around," she points to the bump that protrudes from over the waistband of her tracksuit trousers and stretching the material of one of george's old t-shirts, "i just don't want to go anywhere, george."

"you're not fat," he tuts and runs the stretch of his palm across the curvature of her front, feeling the active kicks from his little girl as she moves around and gets comfortable from the previous jostling motions of yn waddling her way towards him, "you are pregnant. not fat."

"i've gained so many pounds," yn huffs her fringe from her face and he rolls his eyes, "don't roll your eyes with attitude, clarkey."

"not done with attitude," he retorts and presses a kiss to her lips, "you're just being silly, okay? the midwife told you in your last visit to her that you'd probably gain a little weight from your body changing."

she frowns and he cups her face in his hands.

"besides, all that added weight is just proof out little girl is growing healthily."

she drops her forehead to his chest, a slight stretch from her neck because of the bump restricting her from getting any closer, and she groans lowly.

"will you be okay for a few hours? i can get someone to come and sit with you for an hour or so?"

"i'll be fine," yn grumbles, lifting her head up to look at him and he has a soft and gentle look in his eyes, one that seemed to be debating on whether he should leave for chris' video shoot or stay and explain that he needed to be home with her, "don't even think about cancelling, george. i'll be fine. if anything goes wrong, i'm sure arthur can come down from upstairs."

"hill or television?"

"oh, definitely hill. i think mister frederick would pass out if he had to do anything remotely related to me being in labour."

george snorts and retrieves his hands from her, passing her by as he walks towards the door to her flat and grabs his boots for the 3g pitch chris had booked, slipping his feet into his trainers, before grabbing his hoodie from the back of her door.

"you call me if anything happens."

"george, we have three weeks."

"baby's can come early," he warns her and she rolls her eyes, "less with the attitude, missy."

"go on, go. you'll be late otherwise," yn smiles softly, "tell chris i say hi and that the baby told me that she can't wait to puke on him when she's finally here."

and, of course, everything is fine and dandy in the first few hours without george.

she made herself a sandwich then followed it with a bowl of cereal because she was craving something a little chocolatey, watching all of the youtube videos that she needed to catch up and scrolling her social media, replying to sweet messages on her twitter and doing a small q and a on her instagram for people to involve themselves in.

until she felt an ache roll across her belly.

an ache that was nothing like the braxton hicks she'd experienced just a short week ago when she'd panicked about going into labour. the midwife explaining it was just her body getting ready for when it was time to pop their little girl out, that it was nothing to worry about and that she wasn't in active labour and just needed to rest and enjoy the last few weeks as a family of two.

an ache that did worry her because it was harsh. enough to make her hunch over. enough to make her eyes water. enough to have her heart racing in her chest.

"you just had to do it without daddy here, huh? did you not hear our conversation earlier?"

she didn't want to interrupt george and she told herself that she had enough willpower to cope for the first hour, by herself, and she didn't want to call chris when he was in the middle of his shoot to tell him she needed her boyfriend when her labour was only at the first stage.

she reaches for her phone and tries to call arthur hill, except it goes to his voicemail twice. to which she left a rather agitated message in relation to how she was going to make him do all the nappy changes and have him on babysitting duty when her little one had arrived.

"yn?"

"arthur," she says, "hello."

"hi?"

"don't be so surprised i'm calling you, idiot. we're friends," she rolls her eyes to herself and her words come out as a low grumble and he huffs out a gentle laugh, "i just need your help."

"i'm in the middle of editing a new reacts video, can it wait till-"

"i think i'm in labour and i just need someone to come and sit with me for a little while. just in case," she grumbles out, looking at the clock as she kept a close eye on the minutes ticking by, "just until george comes home from his shoot with chris in a couple of hours."

"oh, shit."

"please don't panic," she begs him softly, hearing the instant shock and worry in his voice, "i'm fine. nothing is really progressing and i've only had two contractions in the last fifteen or so minutes. but-"

"no, no. it's fine. give me five minutes and i'll be down, okay? do you need me to bring you anything? does george have anything that you'll need?"

yn shakes her head, "no, no. just, yourself. please. george has a spare key in your flat, by the front door, you can use that."

"okay, i'll be there soon. just sit tight."

and when george gets home a short hour and a half after her first contraction, he's greeted with the sight of yn swaying her hips on her yoga ball in front of arthur who was sat on the sofa, her hands in his as she squeezed them gently, lips pursed as she took deep breaths in and out.

and, at first, he's confused.

until it really dawns on him and he's drops his stuff instantly. feet on their way to her before he could toe his trainers off and usually, yn would complain about the smell of his sweaty clothes after his arrival home after anything activity-related except today, she had bigger things to worry about.

"jesus christ, you didn't think to call me?"

"i didn't want to interrupt your shoot. plus, it's not too bad," yn smiles softly, her cheeks red and her forehead shiny with a thin layer of sweat building up on her skin, "arthur's been a great help. he should take up midwifery."

"no," arthur blurts out suddenly and she giggles lightly, "i don't have the stomach for it."

"okay, maybe a doula then," yn suggests, "your voice is very calming and soothing to listen to. i made him recite animal facts to distract him and myself."

she looks at george and his eyes are full of concern.

"george, i'm okay."

"she's a trooper," arthur lets george take her hands, replacing his spot in front of yn and he stands to his feet, wiping his hands on his t-shirt as they were warm and a little sticky, "do you need me or shall i leave you both to it?"

"i think we've got it," george look at him and smiles, "thanks, mate. i'll keep you updated on everything. hopefully we have a baby next time we see you."

arthur grins and bends over and presses a soft kiss to yn's forehead, squeezing her shoulder before he bids his farewell to the two of them, closing the front door behind him as he exits the flat. leaving yn and george in their own bubble, allowing them the privacy to endure the next step of their parenting journey together, the quiet feel to the room almost comforting for her as his thumb rubs over her knuckles reassuringly.

he calls the hospital, speaks to her midwife, lets yn inform of her of everything and they're told to come in because yn was definitely about to have a baby. no fake contractions this time around.

it was the real thing.

and she was terrified.

"i don't wanna go," she whispers tearfully and her feet come to halt at the front door, dropping his hand as he takes one step more and he turns to look at her, "george, i don't want to go."

"no, no. hey," he hoists the strap of the baby bag over his shoulder, her head dropping down to her chest as she hid the tears that were beginning to well and spill over her eyelids, "i know you're scared. hell, i'm scared, too. so scared. but we've got this, yeah? you've got this."

she shakes her head.

"yes, you have. you're the strongest woman i know, okay? you've been amazing through the last nine months, you've battled all you can battle, now it's time for the final step," he grins widely and she looks up at him, his palms cupping her face, "we're about to have a baby, yeah? the last nine months of growing our little bub is coming to an end."

"i can't do it," she whimpers and her bottom lip wobbles, "george, i can't."

and she bursts into tears. her cries echoing around the hallway, down the corridor of the floor of her flat, and his heart breaks at all of the emotions coming from within her. her cheeks wet. her eyes red. and he scoops her into a hug, hiding her face in his shoulder, cupping the back of her head with his hand.

"i'm with you every step of the way," he whispers, "right there, next to you, holding your hand. i'm not going anywhere."

she gulps back a thick sob, her tears dampening the shirt on his body and her knees are shaking, gently swaying as she felt a contraction start its painful ache across her stomach muscles, a heavy groan in the air that he could feel the pain radiate from.

when they get to the hospital and once she's given a room, with a pool in the corner in case she wanted it and a birthing ball beside her beside in case she found comfort on that, changing into a gown so she was a little more comfortable. the smell making her feel a little more at ease knowing she was somewhere where she could birth her baby safely. the gentle pastel colours of the walls around her making her feel less stressed and panicky and a lot more mellow and calmer.

and george stuck to his word.

he never left her side. he never tore his attention from her. he never left the room. he stayed planted to the seat beside the bed. only getting up to use the en-suite loo that came with the room and when she was after a nurse to ask a question about something she was a little scared and nervous about.

"think we should tell the guys?"

"i think arthur would have mentioned something," yn smiles, "i'm very surprised they're not in the waiting room."

"do you want them here?"

yn shakes her head, "as much as i'd love to see them, i just want you here."

he smiles and kisses her forehead.

"you're doing so well, okay? i wish i could do more for you than just hold your hand or rub your back," he frowns, "i just hate seeing you in so much pain."

"it's all worth it though, right? we get a baby at the end of this," she's softly spoken, having only just had an epidural to ease the pain she was feeling and to help her cope with the aches of her contractions, "me and you, can you believe that? not once did i ever picture us in this position when i saw you on tiktok all those years ago."

he snorts out a laugh and blushes softly.

"i'm so glad i commented on that one video you stitched onto mine," he reminds her, "don't think i'd be as happy with life than as i am now. never did i think i'd be a dad, though."

"you're going to be such a good dad," she says, "such a dilf."

yeah... so... i definitely love this girl-dad!george au that had risen up on this blog. i have a few messages in response to it so i'm going to work on them. i just love the idea of all of the boys being girl-dad's. :'))) please tell me i am not alone! anyway! thank you for requesting this. my inbox is always open for george and arthurtv chats on here. xx

#george clarkey #george clarkey imagines #george clarkey fics #george clarkey headcannons #george clarkey blurbs #george clarke #george clarke imagines #george clarke fics #george clarke headcannons #george clarke blurbs

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neopuppy · 6 months

Note

someone bringing up that blast from the past alpha princes jaemin&jeno drabble…. now i’m over here thinking about that jungwoo&jeno hybrid and veterinarian!yn fic we got a tiny taste of 🚬🤏

that was on my old side blog, I’ll post it here for funsies💚

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

“Two of them? Why are they together if they aren’t related?” You question sorting through two clipboards laid out before you. Files for golden retriever and samoyed hybrids stare back at you.

Jeno Lee: 21, born April 23rd. Healthy pure bred samoyed hybrid. Found pan-handling near the beach with Jungwoo Kim. Displays codependency with the golden retriever hybrid.

Jungwoo Kim: 23, born February 19th. Healthy pure bred retriever hybrid. Displays manipulative tactics to get what he wants. Has run away from numerous shelters multiple times.

“Well, the samoyed does whatever the older one tells him to do. It’s like they’ve imprinted on each other. They’re not mates though, and have shown no sign of mating. The samoyed has not rut yet.” Your colleague taps over their sexual history. Jungwoo apparently spending many of his days working in and out of hybrid brothels. “Says he did it so they could survive. He’s a bit promiscuous if you ask me, be careful with that one.”

“Hybrids past 18 years don’t do well. What are we supposed to do with them? Especially two?” You step forward taking a closer look inside the glass revealing the two young boys sharing a bed. Both still in a sleep disoriented state with giant messy fluffy hair covering their ears. The blonde one must be Jungwoo, you think. Following his fingers skimming through the black ball of fur rested on his stomach. The other face mostly hidden still half asleep.

“Adorable right?” With a nudge into your side your assistant nods ahead. “But you’re right- it’s been five months now. They’re both a bit too old to be marketable unfortunately. We’ve had a few customers interested in Jeno, but as noted he seems attached to the retriever.”

As if he could hear you, Jungwoo’s head snaps locking eyes with you through the window. Hand protectively stilling upon the samoyed’s neck. He’s even more breath-taking front on. Sharp mystic eyes blink slowly observing you in return. Mouth puffier than usual after hours of napping.

“Is it.. safe to go inside?” You asks reaching for your lab coat. Both were healthy after all, no history with going rabid in their files.

“Physically? Of course.” Your assistant acknowledges almost sarcastically. A smirk pulling at her lip with a pointed stare to your chest. “But for your heart? You who just got dumpe-..”

“I get it.” You sigh, with hands held up. “I’m not new to cute puppy hybrids. I think I can handle a couple of dogs.”

Without allowing to draw the conversation back to your personal love life mishaps you unlock the door leading into the hybrids quarters. Jungwoo stiffens with a straightened up back, the younger puppy against him muffling in dismay.

Slowly approaching you smile familiar with the nature of hybrids. At times allowing them to scent over your wrist if they were too anxious. The retriever’s eyes dart around, pulling the smaller against him to sit up as well. Whispering something that sounds like- ‘one of the coats is here.’

Glancing up hazily the samoyed spots you, abruptly jerking up wiping his drooled over lips. They stare up cautiously, as if in unison their eyes bounce over your coat.

“Ah, not a fan of the vet are you?” You come to a halt a few feet away from the bed. Clasping your hands with a reassuring nod, you reach for your collar to remove the garment. “I come in peace, no poking and prodding today. Promise.”

The samoyed perks up immediately, shifting position to his knees breaking into a heart shattering smile. Eyes disappearing even more under the mess of hair covering his forehead. His teeth are sharp, small, features giving away his hybrid side. Tail swoshing around in excitement behind him.

“Wow, you’re really pretty!” He squeaks out nearly jumping forward. The older hybrid placing a large hand over his shoulder to keep him in place.

“Jeno..” he warns. Eyes slitting into an icy glare in your direction. “Then what are you doing here? Looks like another psychoanalysis to me. I’ll keep it short for you- no one is going to adopt us no matter how many tricks you teach us.”

Taking a seat at the end of the small bed and giving the room a once over, you note only one bed. It’s no wonder the hybrids bond had not changed since entering the clinic.

“I’ve seen your files, I wanted to introduce myself.” You calmly let them know. The samoyeds smile lights up again. Repeating your name slowly, throwing in another comment of how a pretty name was only fitting.

“You two have been here quite some time, haven’t you?” Solemnly the two agree, faces falling mournfully, trapped with nowhere to go. Both lacking any real training and life experience, unable to fend for themselves in this world; having to accept the lowest form of hybrid work: selling their bodies to survive.

“What if we start you both on some basic education? Enough to at least get you on your feet.” You try to sound encouraging, earning wary looks from the two.

“Can’t teach an old dog new tricks right?” Jungwoo offers, scratching the side of his neck as a blush rises up his cheek. “They want to boot us from the clinic or something?”

“Not necessarily..” you sigh taking them both in. Knowing the next steps would end up in turning them both into experiments. Breeding dogs to see what new hybrids the government could concoct for selfish needs. Hybrids often abused beyond acts of pleasure. Used for warfare or violent entertainment to bet on. “…but..”

“I’d rather live on the street. We’re scum to you humans anyway.” Jungwoo interrupts. Jeno huffing in annoyance at his side over how cold it gets, mumbling that he refuses to go back to that life.

“That is not true.” You protests, cooling yourself before continuing. Knowing better than to argue with a hybrid. “It wouldn’t hurt to try something different. Better than losing the little human rights you have?”

Jeno tugs at Jungwoo’s sleeve with pleading eyes. The older hybrids cheeks puff out rolling his in return.

“Fine, we’ll work on learning or whatever.” Jungwoo says, pausing in thought. You’re just about ready to celebrate in clap before he continues- “but only if you teach us.”

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

Jungwoo huffs struck with boredom, blowing his shaggy bangs away. Ears fluffing up looking around for entertainment, ending on you napping on the couch. His back straightens, slowly crawling over on his knees. You were fast asleep after a long day at the hybrid clinic. You worked so hard, exhausting yourself physically and mentally dealing with abused hybrid’s day in and day out.

His fingers trail up your calve curiously, head tilting pondering if you’d changed into anything else under your robe after you’d showered. Washing away the days scent of many hybrid’s the minute you came home. Knowing how sensitive Jungwoo could be to unfamiliar breeds.

He reaches up higher, lifting a flap of your thick dark robe, jolting in surprise when the drowsy half awake puppy shows up behind you. “What are you doing?”

Jeno questions mid-yawn, thumbs rubbing his puffy sleepy eyes, having just woke up from a nap. All he did was nap when you were at work, such a lazy pup. Jungwoo drops the fabric of your robe, scooting back like he just got caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing.

“I..nothing…I…” Jungwoo scatters, eyes shifting around buying time with an excuse.

Jeno sets down next to him, flicking his twitching ear. He sighs, dropping his chin to the older pups shoulder. “You’re such a bad liar.”

“I wasn’t lying.” Jungwoo shoves him off. Refocusing on your peaceful rested face. Annoyed Jeno ruined his chances to wake you up in such a stress relieving way. He contemplates for a second, licking his lips eyeing your exposed inner thighs. “Jeno..”

The younger yawns again, brows raising releasing a sound of ‘mmph?’ In response. Jungwoo breaks into a smile, nudging his shoulder.

“You want to see something? I think you’ll really like it.” Jungwoo’s eyes glint in excitement. Finally achieving some form if entertainment, he taps Jeno’s chin, nodding forward in the direction of your laying figure.

“What..” Jeno’s expression turns worried following Jungwoo’s movements. He reaches for the hem of your robe again, opening the flaps to reveal your bare core. Thighs slightly parted enough to clearly see your folds leading down to a tight puckered hole. Jungwoo sucks in a breath of air gazing between your legs, fingers snapping in Jeno’s face.

“Come closer.” Jungwoo orders, pulling Jeno near by his shoulder. The younger’s eyes widen, mouth falling apart, gazing at your most private area.

“We shouldn’t be…doing this..” he swallows, forcing his eyes to lower. A flush of heat rushing to his cheeks picking up the sweet scent emitting from between your thighs.

Jeno often snuck into your room once you’d left for work. Spilling your unwashed clothes from your hamper, sniffing and rolling around coating in your aroma. Whimpering into pairs of underwear leaving behind your most prominent scent. It slammed into him like a truck whenever you’d workout and let him hug around your waist. Cherishing each mixture of flavors whenever alone, daring to steal a pair of your underwear to drape over his cock; writhing and groaning, fucking the fabric trapped in his fisted palm.

“Should you be jerking off into the same pair of dirty stolen panties every night?” Jungwoo taunts, lip lifting in smirk. Jeno falters, mouth opening and shutting flabbergasted. He leans in to the younger’s black furry ear, whispering- “She let’s me touch her pussy all the time. She loves it, cries and begs for more. I know she’d love it if you gave her a kiss, right there.”

Jeno’s eyes nearly burst from his skull, gazing past Jungwoo’s pointed finger aimed between your legs. Large hand covering his shoulder gently nudging him forward. He gulps, shivering nervously, allowing himself to shift closer. Jungwoo reaches for your thigh to softly pull you open further. Both puppies gaze in awe as your folds open up, hole parting, shining enticingly.

Jungwoo settles next to the couch, hand splayed across your inner thigh. He looks up at Jeno seated between your legs, hands wringing nervously, chewing on his lip with an anxious bounce.

“She’s really going to love you if you kiss her right there.” Jungwoo comforts him, reaching closer to tap your clit. A muffled ‘mmh’ releases above as you stir and adjust your shoulders. Deep sleep from such a tiring day holding you captive. “Don’t you want her to love you Jeno?”

The puppy lights up, nodding eagerly. Always seeking praise, attention, pets and extra love. He sinks forward taking in a deep inhale of your scent, eyes shooting open as it travels up his brain. Horny puppy hormones shooting straight to his dick, awakening the feral dog he keeps at bay. His mouth drops, kissing your clit tenderly. Brows furrowed together in pain, cock fattening up between his legs. The dizzying scent pours from your entrance all the more as his lips brush around your sensitive nerves, drawing the pup into a deeper cloud of haze.

“Keep doing that puppy, she likes that.” Jungwoo encourages him. Tongue dragging up your thigh, nibbling soft bites along the way.

Jeno grunts, tongue lapping between your folds like a thirsty animal. Thirsting for more of your taste, seeping down his throat like the best thing he’s ever had. His grunts and ferocious ministrations grow louder and faster. Lips wrapping around your clit with an extra harsh suck.

Your eyes fly open in moan, back arching up chasing his mouth. Jungwoo bites down on your hip roughly, smiling as you look down and find them attacking your lower half. Bewilderment encases your slowly processing half-awake thoughts, spotting the cute ears belonging to your innocent pup between your thighs.

“Jeno?!”

#asks #nct hard hours #nct 127 hard hours #nct dream hard hours #jeno hard hours #jungwoo hard hours

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lovelytsunoda · 1 year

Text

november rain // lance stroll

when I look into your eyes, i can see a love restrained but darlin' when I hold you, don't you know I feel the same? (..) if we could take the time to lay it on the line, i could rest my head just knowin' that you were mine, all mine so if you want to love me then darlin' don't refrain, or I'll just end up walkin' in the cold november rain

summary: after four long years and one pandemic cancellation, it's finally time for y/n and lance to return home to mount tremblant and tie the knot.

pairing: lance stroll x newlywed! reader

warnings: co*kwarming, so much implied smut and sexual innuendo and i'm not sorry, weddings, they are so painfully in love it is sickening. a dad who doesn't quite get the jewish traditions but is doing his best. also i googled a lot of the jewish wedding traditions so im not sure they're 100% completely accurate tbh

inspo: wedding dress, lance's suit, welcome sign, the arch, getaway car

ten months to the wedding.

it was a calm, quiet afternoon in the ranch house. lance was asleep, desperate for a nap after his afternoon cardio session with his trainers, and y/n was in her home office, laptop out in front of her as her manicured fingers dragged tabs around the homescreen, a pinterest board full of white dresses open on her phone. the couple's two year old golden retriever was sitting under the desk, resting his head against her lap.

"you're going to be the best ring bearer, aren't you, boy?" she giggled to herself, carding her fingers through whistler's fur as she looked back at the wedding blog open on her screen. whistler licked her fingertips, almost as if the dog was agreeing with her.

15 jewish wedding traditions you should know about.

"hey, baby." lance spoke softly, rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he ambled into the office, hair messy and shirt wrinkled from his nap. "what are you up to?"

"just some wedding stuff." she replied, getting up from her desk chair to wrap her arms around her lover, whistler padding along beside her as lance reached down to scratch the dog behind the ears.

"are you looking up jewish weddings?" lance asked, lips against the crown of her head. "baby, you don't have to go out of your way for me."

"i want to, lance. this is your ceremony too, and it means something to me that you feel as if your faith is being represented here as well. as long as i get to wear my white dress and pick the song i walk down the aisle to, i'm not picky about anything else."

"as long as you're happy." lance smiled, leaning down to kiss her, fingers lacing with hers as their lips danced gently together. "have you picked a song yet."

y/n groaned, tipping her head back. "you're going to laugh at me."

lance laughed. "no, i'm not! just tell me, darling."

"well, i wanted to walk down the aisle to 'november rain'. it just has a lot of special meaning for me. it's one of the songs that made me believe in love." she admitted, meeting lance's eyes.

"if november rain is what you want, that's what we'll play. have you picked a dress?"

y/n grinned, nuzzling further into lance's chest. "a few contenders have emerged. but it's bad luck to see the dress before the wedding!"

laughing, lance swept y/n off her feet, carrying her towards the bedroom with whistler at his heels. "come on, you really don't believe in that."

"so what if i do?" she smiled, cradling his face with the hand sporting her stunning diamond ring as she placed her on the king sized bed.

"then i guess i'm just going to have to keep fantasizing about that tight white fabric, hugging all the right places." lance teased, his lips grazing the skin on her neck.

"you do that, loverboy. because you don't get to see my dress until i'm coming down that aisle."

"and then i get to take it off you, right?" lance smirked, kissing her on the forehead. "because god, i have had thoughts about what we're going to do that night."

the bed dipped next to them, whistler's wet nose nudging at y/n's nose as she burst out into giggles, lance groaning as he flopped down on the bed, carding his fingers through whistler's fur.

"whistler, my guy, you don't need to be such a cockblock." lance laughed, patting the dog's side.

"baby, this is what you signed up for when we adopted him. you've had two years to get used to this." y/n giggled in turn, gently shooing the dog off of her bed.

"whistler, c'mere buddy." lance clapped his hands and signaled for the dog, lumbering clumsily off the bed. "i just want twenty minutes of alone time, buddy. go play with your raccoon toy."

he continued to attempt to bride the dog as he guided whistler out of the room, gently closing the door as the golden retriever left with his stuffed toy.

"twenty minutes, huh?" y/n joked, taking off her shirt. "you really think you're that good?"

"baby, please. you know that i can have you screaming my name in ten." lance's voice was husky as he leaned over her, pressing her body back against the pillows.

he kissed her deeply, running his tongue along the seam of her mouth as she moaned into his touch, bucking her hips up into his, feeling his erection grow inside his jeans.

"i love you." he said softly, his hands caressing her bare sides. "i can't wait to get married."

five months before the wedding.

"ladies, i think i've found the dress!" y/n giggled, pushing through the dressing room curtains and performing a little spin, the white satin fabric swirling around her bare legs. "this is the one."

"babes, you look stunning!" christa, her high school best friend and maid of honor cheered, raising her champagne glass. christa and her boyfriend bruce had gotten married during the pandemic, much to the disapproval of her greek family, who were expecting a large, flamboyant wedding.

as the wedding seemed to approach faster and faster, y/n and lance had both decided to go shopping for big day outfits on the same day. y/n, however, was pretty sure that lance only came up with that plan because he wanted to sneak a peak at his bride before the big day (and to grab more material of the love of his life for his spank bank while he was at it).

the dress would need a few alterations, currently pinned to her body with wooden clothespins, but when she looked at herself in the mirror, cream fabric hugging her body, the large slit up the side of the dress, she knew that this was the dress she was going to get married in.

"bestie, your phone is ringing." helena, her college roommate, shouted from the sitting room where they had all left their bags. "i think it's loverboy!"

y/n laughed, extending her hand. "bring the phone here, hell."

lancey💍would like to facetime.

chuckling to herself, y/n flicked to a regular phone call and ducked back into the changeroom. outside, helena and christa exchanged looks.

"were you trying to steal a look at me in my dress?" y/n laughed, sitting down on the fitting room's ottoman. "baby, i thought you were smarter than that."

"i hoped you wouldn't realize it was a facetime call at first. not even a peek?" lance asked hopefully.

"not a chance. i think i've found the one, though. it's cream coloured, and tight fitting, contoured to all the best spots." she said with a smile, knowing that lance would be working himself up on the other end of the line. "off the shoulder with a big slit going up the leg."

lance exhaled, and she could just picture the blush rising in his cheeks. "and i don't even get a look with a visual like that? come on now baby, that's just cruel."

"how goes the suit shopping."

"so, it turns out that pastels are on trend this year and i don't know how i feel about that. i had mick take some pictures for me, i'm sending them through now. unlike you, i actually want my spouse's opinion." lance said teasingly. "i'm leaning towards the mint green, team spirit and all, but let me know what you think."

her phone buzzed in her hand, seven pictures taken by mick schumacher sliding into her inbox. she smiled to herself as she flicked through, looking at her fiancé's dorky poses and looks of pure disgust at the mustard yellow suit esteban had insisted he try on.

"you're right, go with the mint green. it goes with the theme, too."

she could practically hear the smile on lance's face as he responded. "i thought you'd say that. right, if we've both got things picked out, i take it you'll be home soon?"

"an hour, maybe an hour and a half. i still have to buy the wedding lingerie as well, you know."

"oh, baby, don't say that when i'm out with my friends." lance groaned. "now i'm hard in a suit that's not mine."

y/n couldn't stop herself from laughing at that one as she took a sip of the champagne. "that's your own fault. so i take it you don't want me to ask what kind of lingerie you want me to buy?"

"something white, lacy and expensive. my dad is paying for half of the wedding, so money is no issue, babes. really, i want you to treat yourself. i know the wedding has been stressing you out lately."

"you try planning the happiest day of your life." y/n chuckled. "i can't wait to get home, if i'm being honest. as great as looking for dresses has been, this morning has been exhausting."

"i'll run a warm bath for you, order takeout from that place on main that you like. i think i know just how to ease those nerves of yours." lance suggested, a seductive tone in his voice that had y/n biting her lip.

"that plan wouldn't happen to involve cotton sheets and bath and body works lotion, would it?" she teased, knowing that every long, erotic night with her fiancé usually started with a massage and ended with a few orgasms.

"uh, yeah, of course it does. how else am i going to get rid of this little problem? seriously, babe, i am out in public."

"what are you going to do about it, big boy? spank me?" she joked, having fun imagining just how red her lover probably was right now.

"i haven't made up my mind yet, pretty girl." lance teased. "maybe i will, maybe i won't. you'll just have to wait and see, yeah?"

"i look forward to it. i've gotta go if i want to be done shopping by dinner. i love you, lance."

"love you more, y/n. see you when you get home."

the night before the wedding.

it was just after midnight when y/n slipped out of her hotel room, forgoing shoes as her mismatched socks padded along the hotel carpet. helena and christa were fast asleep, and y/n found herself tossing and turning as her separation anxiety kicked in.

she counted room numbers in her head before she stopped and knocked gently on the door, hands in the back pockets of her jeans as she waited for the door to open.

“you just couldn’t stay away, could you?” lance stroll joked, opening the hotel room door. he was wearing nothing on his top half, his lower body covered in nothing but a pair of montreal canadiens flannel pants.

part of him had known that y/n would find her way back to him before the wedding started. she never had been great at being on her own.

“we both know im not as tough as I pretend to be.” she quipped back, wrapping her arms around her husband-to-be. “I missed you.”

lance smiled against her skin as he placed a gentle kiss on her neck. “come inside, pretty girl. let me run a bath. the bathroom window has a great view of the city.”

y/n closed the door behind her as the couple made their way to the large bathroom, lance filling the large jacuzzi tub with warm, bubbly water as his fiancée undressed. she slipped into the bath alongside her lover, humming in contentment at the feeling of lances body against hers.

“you couldn’t sleep either?” y/n asked, sighing into his arms as lance put his arms around her torso, gently kissing her cheek.

“nah, I was watching the game. its not the same trying to fall asleep without you.”

“now who’s the cheesy one?” she giggled, splashing her lover as he moved his hands, beginning to massage her shoulders softly. “I love you.”

“love you more.” lance hummed as he kissed the back of her head. “how’d you get out of your room anyways? I thought the bridal guard would have you on lockdown. for the sake of tradition, and all that shit.”

“theyre asleep. I snuck out, used pillows to make it look like i was still in my bed. how was the bachelor party?”

lance laughed, pulling his fiancée closer. “I dont know if you could call the hockey hall of fame and whalburgers a bachelor party, but I had a good time.”

“you got a weekend in toronto and all I got was pottery painting and mocktails?” y/n joked, her hand trailing up lances thigh. “im glad you had a good time. I did too.”

with her back pressed up against his chest, y/n dragged her hand further up his thigh and upwards towards his member, wrapping her nimble fingers around his shaft.

“baby, not right now." lance whispered, concern in his tone as he unwrapped his arms from the woman in front of him "what’s bothering you, pretty girl? you get needy like this when something is getting to you and you don't know how to say it out loud.”

she sighed, retracting her hand and linking her fingers with his. “i'm just nervous about tomorrow. scared, I think.”

lance's expression softened. he shifted in the tub, trying to turn y/ns body so that they were sitting across from each other, both her hands in his.

“its not too late to elope if you dont want to do this anymore, love. I can call chloe and she can drive us down to city hall. just the two of us, no stress, no fuss. I just want you to be happy, y/n.”

"no, lance. everybody is already here and i've been dreaming of this moment since i was thirteen. i want to do this. it just scares the shit out of me. it's like when i slept with you for the first time, you have to remember that."

lance laughed, using one damp hand to rake his hair back. "if anything, i was more nervous than you were. because i knew that if i fucked that up, i could have lost you for good. i swear, i would have given up on sex if you never felt comfortable enough with me to do it, i just knew i wanted you in my life."

"and now look at us." y/n hummed, kissing lance's knuckles. "i'm just scared that something is going to go really really wrong tomorrow."

"listen to me baby, here's what's going to happen. you are going to walk down that aisle tomorrow in your gorgeous dress with your parents on either side of you, and 'november rain' playing in the background, and i promise that i will be waiting for you at the altar. i'll also probably be crying from how stunning you look and how surreal this moment is, but i will be right next to you the entire time, okay?"

"promise me you aren't going anywhere?"

"i promise." lance said, leaning over to kiss her before stepping out of the tub and wrapping his well-built frame in a plush hotel towel. he extended a hand for his lover, lifting her out of the tub bridal-style. "now, you and me are going to curl up in bed, watch the last two episodes of 'the night agent', and not think about anything wedding related."

y/n smiled, feet firmly back on the ground before she raised her arms and allowed her fiancé to wrap the towel around her body. "i like that idea."

dried off and wrapped in a silk hotel bathrobe, y/n curled up underneath the comforter. she gently swept her hand across the bed spread to flick off the crumbs, frowning at lance as he redressed in his hockey flannels and joined her in bed.

"i leave you alone for one night and your bed is filled with crumbs?"

"sorry," lance shrugged, a small blush on his cheeks. "force of habit. can't watch the game without a bag of miss vickie's."

rolling her eyes, y/n reached for his laptop, waking up the dark screen before closing the tsn app and opening netflix.

"baby, your skin is freezing." lance remarked, pressing soft kisses to the skin on her shoulders. "look, you've got goosebumps. do you want me to turn down the air con?"

with a cheeky look on her face, y/n turned to look at him. "i can think of another, much more fun way to get warmer."

"oh, you want me to warm you up with my cock, is that it?" lance hummed, gently slipping a hand underneath the hem of the white robe. "baby, if you let me have my way with you tonight, you won't be able to walk down that aisle tomorrow."

"we don't have to do anything. i just want to feel you."

and how could lance say no when she asked with those eyes, with that voice? she hummed in content as he slipped inside her glistening folds, readjusting the blankets around their conjoined bodies as she pressed play on the next episode.

"i love you, lancelot." she hummed, turning her head to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. "i can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you."

"i love you too, y/n. now, get some rest, darling. if you fall asleep, i'll stop the episode so you don't miss anything, yeah?"

the wedding.

"ladies, i'm going to be real with you, i'm scared out of my mind." y/n laughed nervously, smoothing out the front of her dress while christa fussed with her hair.

christa and helena were not fools: they knew that y/n had snuck out of her hotel room to meet up with lance, but neither of them could fault her for that. christa knew firsthand that y/n had been so scared that she would never fall in love, never have her moment in a white dress, and she wasn't going to stop y/n from being with lance, even if it was just for a night.

that being said, nerves were high on the morning of the wedding, and y/n had to be talked down more than once so that she would be ready to walk down the aisle.

and now that moment was finally here. she walked out of the dressing room to meet with her parents, who would be walking down the aisle with her, as per jewish tradition. lance had gone down the aisle moments earlier with claire-ann and lawrence beside him.

"you're going to do just great, kiddo." y/n father said, pulling her in for a hug. "but remind me what i'm supposed to do once i get up there."

"you're going to stand across from lawrence, diagonally from claire-ann in place of the bridal party. all you have to is stand there, and once the rabbi has said 'you may kiss the bride', shout 'mazel tov' with everybody else."

mr. y/l/n nodded, gripping his daughter's hand. "i'm so proud of you, honey. you picked a good man, and i love that he makes you so so happy."

the bars to 'november rain' began to play, and y/n took a deep breath before she walked into the banquet hall with her parents. her hands were shaking, and she tried not to look around and notice how many people were in the room.

she would celebrate with them all later.

she tried not to think about anything as she stepped up the small wooden stairs (not many steps, just three) to the altar. lance stood underneath the arch of roses (they'd decided against the traditional jewish canopy, but would have their parents stand at the four corners in principle), looking dashing in his mint green suit. he was restless, messing with the white rose on his lapel before wiping at his eye.

"were you crying?" y/n giggled quietly, reaching for her husband's hand

"what, no." lance laughed. "there's gotta be some pollen in here or something."

"good, because if you cry, i'll cry."

weeks, even months later, if you had asked y/n what the rabbi had said during the ceremony, she probably wouldn't have been able to tell you, even though the entire thing had been videotaped for the happy couple. the entire world narrowed down to that altar, to her and lance.

the love of her life.

"i now pronounce you husband and wife."

"mazel tov!"

"too soon, dad!"

"sorry love, carry on!"

TAGS:

@starsanova @magnummagnussen @diorleclerc @sidcrosbyspuck @daydreamingleclerc @libraryofloveletters

#lance stroll x reader #lance stroll x y/n #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #aston martin f1 #lance stroll #cries in single #Spotify

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sadie-bug345 · 2 months

Note

OK so I was wondering if you could do greasers head canons x gn!Goth s/o who just moved to town, and everyone, both socials and greasers are scared of them because everyone thinks that they’re a witch I know that’s super specific, but it’s an idea that’s been in my head for a really long time

Thanks pookieeeee! Much love your writing is my addiction

i’m twinning with @urlocalnonbinarybastard !! go check out their amazing blog‼️🫵‼️

anyways pony is def intimidated by you

yet also intrigued 🤨

he honestly just thinks the whole mystery aspect of your personality and vibe is quite literary LMAO

def wants to match your fits you cannot convince me he doesn’t🫶

johnny noticed you and just kinda always had you in the back of his mind

like he just couldn’t stop thinking abt you

which i think is super sweet😭🥰

you guys are actually the cutest together like just the vibes match

and no one messes w yall PERIOD

soda was a little surprised when he had a crush on you

like he’s used to dating the cherry type (no hate to cherry cause id date her too🤷‍♂️💞)

anyways you guys are both night and day

givingggg black cat golden retriever

which i LOVE BTW

you guys are deffff a power couple

darry was prob really intimidated cause there were lots of rumors going on abt you

and guy doesn’t really get out much cause he spends most weekdays working like crazy

so he didn’t really get to meet you for himself for a while

but once he did actually interact w you he’s like TOTALLY crushing

you seem very sure of yourself and being around 14 year old kid brother pony, darry wasn’t really used to that

probably the most surprising couple here which just makes it better 🫶

yours and dally’s vibes definitely match

but guy was fr scared

so he’d probably cover that up with dumb comments

BUT you hold your own against him and he ends up regretting it

(this is like the first time in his life he’s actually thought abt other peoples feelings 😐)

asks you out a little after and you’re just like

”uhhh…ok🤷‍♂️”

POWER COUPLE.

two bit and you mainly just bond thru humor

other than that it’s a very opposites attract situation

you have really dark humor which two bit wasn’t expecting cause of your rep

but he LOVES IT

you guys just have inside joke after inside joke

and you guys have that “F WHAT ANYONE THINKS” mentality💞

steve prob saw you at a gas station

or soda mentioned you to him and he’s like

”i gotta know more🧐” LMAO

you guys are actually really cute

hes really sweet to you

and promises to punch anyone who says anything remotely negative abt you💀

go check out @urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites’s blog!!! they have amazing content there🫶🙏😀🥰 ANYWAYS MY INBOX IS OPEN!!

#dallas winston #dallas winston x reader #the outsiders #the outsiders sodapop #johnny cade #johnny cade x reader #ponyboy curtis

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ensignsimp · 5 months

Text

Romantic TOS HCs: Kirk, Spock, McCoy

A/N: After a horrible blog explosion I've had to rewrite some of my headcanons. I hope you all enjoy it.

Prompt: Romantic TOS Kirk, Spock, McCoy w/ GN! Reader

James T. Kirk

Kirk is most definitely a hopeless romantic.

He is also the KING OF SAPPY ROMANCES.

Kirk most definitely reads those cheesy romance novels your grandma has on her nightstand.

He tries to keep things professional on the bridge, it doesn't last.

He'll give you longing looks, and endless compliments, the man is a total flirt with you on the bridge. (That and info-dumping.)

He'll give exaggerated sighs and swoon anytime you do even the bare minimum.

"Thank you, Ensign (L/N). What would we do without you?"

He'll write you little love notes and have the other Ensigns deliver them to you.

He is constantly blowing you kisses.

He even gives you the most ridiculous pet names;

"Sunshine, My Star, Sweetie"

It would be embarrassing if it wasn't so cute.

You're barely in the turbolift when he's covering you in kisses.

He's always sharing books to read with you (maybe the less goofy ones).

It's like having your own book club.

He loves head scratches and when you hold him in your arms.

He is a huge cuddler and enjoys snuggles.

He prefers to be the big spoon or to lay on your chest.

Kirk gets the cutest happy golden retriever look on his face if you give him head scratches and read to him.

S'chn T'gai Spock

When Spock falls in love, he falls hard!

He thought he should have been incapable of the feeling.

But to Vulcans' it's not just about the feeling of love, it's the subtlety of action.

He keeps things professional on the bridge. However, that doesn't stop him from consulting you any chance he gets.

He shows his love in discrete ways; long loving looks, sharing in debates and games of strategy, in addition to the ozh'esta. *Finger Embrace

He will complement you, just not in the way Kirk or McCoy would.

"I completely trust Ensign (L/N)'s judgment, they have profoundly sound logic for a human."

During slower times on the bridge, he'll write lines of poetry about you.

Though he never likes to share it.

Pet names are sadly rare but when you are alone he calls you almost anything but your name.

"Ashal-veh, t'nash-veh, t'hy'la"

He doesn't protest you using pet names for him while working together.

He likes to hold your hand by wrapping his pinky around yours.

He'll teach you how to play the Vulcan Harp if you're interested.

Totally not so he can have you sit in his lap and caress your hands.

He loves it when you caress his face and run your fingers through his hair.

If you just hold his face in your hands and look into his eyes he'll turn bright green.

He enjoys cuddling and having you sleeping next to him.

He'll usually prefer the honeymoon position or have you lay on his chest.

Leonard McCoy

He's a doctor and a glucose guardian.

He never thought he'd fall in love again, but here he is.

He's very old school when it comes to his style of dating.

He keeps things professional on the surface but you can tell he favors you more.

It doesn't matter what is going on, he'll always make time for you.

He isn't the best when it comes to frequent compliments but you know they're sincere.

"Ensign, you make me feel young again."

He scolds Kirk if he puts you on dangerous way missions.

He likes to keep you close by, like Spock, he's always calling you up for something.

His pet names for you are the sweetest.

"Honey, Sweetie, Darling."

He loves it when you call him things like "Doc, Hot Shot, Good Lookin'."

He likes to spend all of his off hours with you. He practically follows you around like a puppy.

Sometimes when you two are apart he likes to give you personal com messages, like back in the 20th century.

He loves to take you dancing even if he can't move as fast as he used to.

"In-quarters" dates are his favorite because he can just sit still with you in his lap.

He adores cuddling up in a big blanket and watching old movies with you.

During this time he's more openly affectionate, he likes to run his fingers through your hair and cover your face in kisses.

He prefers to have you sit in his lap, but he won't argue if you want him to sit in yours.

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 year

Note

Wait you have Lilia listed as one of the interact-able family members. Do you intend to have Lilia show up as Silver’s father in disguise like wearing a mustache or perhaps being in a different form? I’ve seen people say something about a “true form”, but so far in-game (english server and im stuck at the sectors of book 6) I haven’t seen anything that suggests Lilia has altered his form to blend in? May I ask how you plan to do Silver’s father requests?

[Referencing this blog event!]

I believe "true form” Lilia is a popular fandom headcanon. It’s not explicitly said that he has a different form, it’s something fans have speculated about due to various lines dropped by Diasomnia (ie Malleus says in one of his chats that Lilia is in a history book yet no one recognizes him but Malleus, Sebek and Silver imply during one of the Halloween events that back in the Briar Valley Lilia was most terrifying for the holiday, etc). Some fans also think that Lilia has purposefully changed his appearance to “fit in” better as a high school student while at NRC, and/or due to a plot point brought up in episode 7 (no spoilers though).

Rather than outright say how I'm going to present Lilia for NRC Family Day, I think it'd be more fun to explain via creative writing ^^ so enjoy the pre-Family Day preparations in Diasomnia~

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

Silver leaned against the door frame, his sight set on the cluttered bedroom of his vice dorm leader. Tonight, it was even messier than usual, with outfits, accessories, and bottles of nail polish strewn on the desk and floor. Instruments and antiques were knocked over, drawers and chests open and their contents splayed out. It looked as though a storm had torn through the area--but no, this was the calm before the storm.

Lilia practically had the entire upper half of his body shoved deep into the abyss that was his closet, fishing around with his hands to retrieve more lost treasures from within. He popped out with two hangers, one bearing a sharp suit and the other, a neon graphic T-shirt.

"What do you think, Silver? Do you prefer the formal look, or do you think casual wear will do?" Lilia's deep ruby eyes were absolutely effervescent, gleaming like starlight. "Or perhaps I could dust off the old battle armor for this occasion!”

Silver gathered his courage and started. "Father—”

“No, you’re right. It may be too much cuteness for their poor little hearts to take!” He set down both sets of clothing on his bed and paused. “Do you think security will at least let me bring in my cleaver? It could make for a good icebreaker with the other parents."

“I don’t think so. But more importantly, father—”

“Ah, how disappointing. There’s no help for it, I suppose.

"I know!” Lilia suddenly brought a fist down into an open palm. His teeth peeked out from behind his growing smile. “I could bake a little something to pass out to the others in attendance.”

He bounced over to Silver, clasping his hands in his own. The aura radiating from Lilia was like that of a coiled spring, packed with energy waiting to be let loose. “I'm so excited for Family Day, aren't you? There’s still so much left to do.”

Silver’s voice came firm, the strike of a blade against a shield.

“Father.”

“… Oh dear.” Lilia frowned, peering up into his son’s face. “Have I said something to upset you?”

Regret set in. Silver let the fierceness in his gaze fade. “No, not at all. I’m happy to see you so eager.”

“Then whatever is the matter?” Lilia playfully nudged him on the arm. “Come, you can confide in your old man.”

“I would like nothing more than for you to be at my side for Family Day. It’s just…” A hesitation. “It will be difficult for you to pass as my father without the other students also recognizing you as their classmate. That may put you in a compromising position—and I don't wish to trouble you for my own sake.

Before Lilia could respond, a thunderous shout cut in. A young man, broad-shouldered and hulking, muscled into the doorway.

"WHAT'S THIS NOW?!" Sebek bellowed. "I cannot believe you, Silver!! You have the gall to barr Lilia-sama from attending a school function?!"

"My, Sebek. How kind of you to join us," Lilia raised his brows in an exaggerated manner, "though I didn't take you for an eavesdropper."

The first year's expression fell. He sheepishly fumbled for the right words. "M-My sincerest apologies!! I was doing my usual round of evening patrols and happened to overhear... I-I could not help but cry out against such an injustice...!! I-It will not happen again, sir!!"

The ancient fae chuckled. "I kid. You're fine, Sebek. However, I believe that Silver is right to be concerned. It will make matters challenging to say the least if I have to play both the role of father and high school student.

"Even so, it is a guardian's job is to be there for his child. I shan't let another year pass where I sit on the sidelines twiddling my thumbs while Silver is left on his lonesome."

"Another year?" Sebek cast his fellow knight a curious look.

"You weren't enrolled at NRC yet, so you wouldn't know." Silver deadpanned, a sigh escaping him. "Father also insisted he would attend Family Day then. He attempted to sneak into the event while wearing a pair of gag glasses... and was promptly ejected from the premises. It was mistaken as an ill-mannered prank by staff and students alike."

"Why, the NERVE of them!! They should be honored that a decorated general and advisor to the queen would humble himself by attending their gathering!!"

"I don't think that was the issue."

"It won’t happen again. I must put together a cleverer disguise this time!" Lilia glanced at the items scattered around his room. "Hmm, maybe I should start by recoloring my hair to match Silver's. A trim may also be in order."

"Wh-What?! Grrr... What luck you have, Silver!! What I'd give to have a matching head of hair with Lilia-sama!!" Sebek clenched a fist to contain his frustration.

"Your family is also visiting Sage's Island for Family Day, aren't they?" Silver smiled softly, his tone reassuring. "You won't be left out of anything."

"Hnngh... That's exactly what I'm afraid of!!" Sebek cradled his head in his hands. "I'd be less inclined to protest were it only my mother and my grandfather in attendance, but I don't know how to act around that man!! Worse yet, when I think of that man making his presence known to the other humans...!!"

He shuddered, unable to complete his sentence.

Silver raised a brow. "... You mean your father?"

"STOP, DON'T SPEAK THE THOUGHT INTO EXISTENCE!!"

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. He’s family.”

“WHO SAID I WAS EMBARRASSED?! I-I’M NOTHING OF THE SORT!! DON’T BE SO PRESUMPTUOUS, SILVER!!”

Lilia laughed, shaking his head. "Lighten up, boys! It'll be a fun time, you'll see. I'm looking forward to catching up with Baul and the others myself."

“Will you really be able to blend in so easily? You have a very distinctive appearance. It would be hard to change you into someone entirely new and then change you back before the next day.”

“Th-That’s right!!” Sebek quickly added relieved to change the topic. “Lilia-sama oozes charm from every pore in his body! It would take considerable effort to conceal his handsomeness!!”

“... I see. So that's what this is about."

A sudden chill descended upon the room. Even the green flames that lit up the space seemed to quiver and shrink in the oppressive cold.

"Malleus," Lilia said with ease.

"Lilia." Their liege nodded coolly as he slipped out of the darkness and into view. "Silver, Sebek. It seems I wasn't invited to this lively little discussion. Please, don't stop on my account. Continue."

The sarcasm of his words was tinged with the subtly bitter pang of jealousy. A half joke, and also a half truth.

The trio fell back and parted, granting space to him. Sebek looked positively mortified—the second time that night.

“Y-Young master!! We had no intention of leaving you out of… Th-This was completely impromptu!! I beg of you, please forgive this Sebek for his impudence!!!”

“Did we disturb your sleep, sir?” Silver asked. He was as steady and soft as a lullaby, a contrast to his partner.

Malleus raised a hand—a silent command to them to stand down, to be at ease. “I only sought to investigate the tumult coming from this area. Sound has a way of traveling in these halls, and it makes a fairy curious.”

“Don’t mind us, we’re all riled up for tomorrow. Scheming for it, you know.” Lilia beamed. “That reminds me! Maleficia herself will be in attendance this year. I made certain the message got to her. Can’t risk the invite getting lost in the mail again!

“It’s a once-in-a-blue-moon event—it’s not every day when the stars align and those stuffy advisors grant her leeway in her duties. You must be just as excited as we are.”

Malleus smiled with his eyes more than with his mouth. They shone with wonder and quiet reverence. “It will be a joy to host grandmother at Night Raven College.”

“It will be a most wonderful reunion!” Lilia agreed. “Oh, idea: what if I wore something dark and atmospheric in honor of the royal family? I know I have a spiked choker and boots lying somewhere around here…“

Malleus blinked. “Grandmother may appreciate that—but attire alone will not help you pass for Family Day to the others.”

“I’ve been trying to tell him that.”

Beside Silver, Sebek stubbornly harrumphed. “Lilia-sama shouldn’t have to conform to the expectations of mere humans!!”

“There’s still time to sort out a solution,” Lilia pointed out cheerfully. “Come hell or high water, I want to be there for my family.”

“Yes, your resolve is crystal clear. It would be a shame if you could not attend.”

Malleus ran a hand along an open drawer. It was filled with knick-knacks, from beaded jewelry to talismans. Tucked between a sizable glass orb and a carving of a gingerbread man was a furry tuft. “Pray tell, what did you wear for entry last time?”

“It was a pair of those gag glasses! It had a big nose and these fluffy fake eyebrows and mustache. Why do you ask?”

Malleus hooked a finger on the furry tuft and lifted. With it came a bulbous blob of rubber attached to thick frames.

“This?”

Malleus produced thick frames from the drawer. They were every bit as ridiculous off of a face as it was on one. Strange—the glasses seemed to glow an eerie green, but when Silver rubbed his eyes and looked again, they were normal.

“Exactly those!!” Lilia reached for the spectacles with a droll laugh. “Learned the hard way that they aren’t much use for covert operations. Still, I’ll always have a soft spot for these.”

“Who is to say that it will stay that way forever?”

“Huh?”

The trio stared at their prince. Malleus answered them with a mysterious smile.

“Who is to say,” he said with a mischievous flash of teeth, “that you cannot become whomsoever you desire?”

“Malleus… You didn’t…” Lilia squinted at the glasses. “Did you cast an enchantment on these just now?”

“The glow,” Silver realized. “I didn’t just daydream it.”

“Then that was…!”

“I wove a temporary illusion spell and cloaking magic into them. So long as you wear those glasses, you will appear as if like a dream in the eyes of those who look upon you. Your face, your hair—they’re altered, the details are scrambled and made challenging to pin down. In other words, you will not be recognized as ‘Lilia Vanrouge’.”

“OOOH!!” Sebek glowed with awe. “The young master has bestowed a blessing to you, Lilia-sama!! What an honor!!”

“Congratulations, father. That’s great news.”

“Malleus…” Lilia stopped, and tried again. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you, but are you sure it’s alright for you to hand me such a handy item?”

“It only lasts until the stroke of midnight tomorrow.” The warning was casual, yet not unkind. “Go to Family Day, Lilia. Enjoy yourself. Spend time with those you love most—”

Malleus was tackled halfway through his speech. The wind in him sailed out as small arms wrapped around him, then tugged Silver and Sebek close too.

“Silly thing, you’re one of them,” Lilia tutted. “All of you are. Where would I be without my family here in Diasomnia?”

#Diasomnia #Lilia Vanrouge #twisted wonderland #twst #Malleus Draconia #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #twst scenarios #twst interactions #twisted wonderland interactions #question #notes from the writing raven #Silver #Sebek Zigvolt #NRC Family Day #Yes I made a Lilo and Stitch reference #disney twisted wonderland

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subskz · 2 years

Text

destress - s.cb

note: this is a reupload from my old blog

content: sub changbin, dom reader, unprotected sex, biting, hair pulling, degradation, a bit of choking, very slight breeding kink, begging, orgasm denial, female reader

word count: 3.8k

Changbin could tell you were stressed from the moment you walked through the door.

You shuffled into your apartment, removing your shoes with a huff and tossing your keys carelessly—almost aggressively—onto the nearest surface.

Changbin craned his neck, peering over at you from where he sat on the sofa.

“Hiii,” He greeted lazily.

You gave a slight hum in response, only sparing him a glance as you made your way over to the fridge to retrieve a water bottle.

His curiosity piqued as he watched you drink, sensing the irritation rolling off you in waves. You didn’t stop until you’d downed nearly half the bottle, exhaling heavily once you’d swallowed. Without saying a word, you screwed the cap back on and exited the kitchen, ready to make your way down the hall.

“Hey,” Changbin called, lips curving into a pout. “Don’t ignore me.”

The whine in his voice caught your attention, and you stopped in your tracks to give him a proper look. He raised his eyebrows at you, an exaggerated expression of hurt plastered on his face.

“Sorry,” You murmured, softening a bit. “How was your day?”

Changbin stretched dramatically, his shirt riding up in the process. “I worked hard,'' He announced. “My energy’s so low...I need some encouragement to cheer me up.”

He gave you a pointed look as he spoke, and you couldn’t help the sense of fondness that crept up on you. “Good work today, Binnie.” You indulged him. “I know you did well.”

Changbin made a cute, self-satisfied noise in response, wiggling his shoulders in a way that you know would’ve earned him a dirty look from any of his members. You flopped down next to him on the cushions, and he wasted no time before scooting closer to you. “How was yours?” He asked, playfulness dimming when he noticed your expression go sour again.

“Long.”

Despite your blunt reply, you leaned against Changbin without hesitation when he scooted closer. “Wanna talk about it?”

You gave a small shrug, not wanting to burden him with the petty issues that had troubled you throughout the afternoon. “No, it’s alright.”

“Are you sure?” He pressed, sounding unconvinced. “I’m a really great listener y’know.”

You tried to ignore how endearing you found the sincerity in which he complimented himself. In truth, Changbin was a great listener—always giving you his full attention, nodding along, and waiting patiently for you to finish before offering his own advice. Any signs of nagging disappeared when you shared your troubles with him, instead replaced with his more thoughtful side that you, admittedly, admired more than you let on.

It wasn’t often that you felt the need to vent to him, but knowing that he was always willing to hear you out had become a great source of comfort for you.

Changbin watched you intently, squinting in that cute way of his to let you know he was prepared to listen. As tempting as it was, you dismissed the idea with a shake of your head. “It’s okay, I’d rather just take my mind off it.”

He eyed you for a moment longer, not relenting until you flashed a small smile in an attempt to reassure him. “Mm...alright. As long as you feel better before we see Chan-hyung and Jisung later.” He agreed.

You groaned miserably the instant Changbin reminded you of your plans to meet up with the other two, and he gave you a soothing pat as you slumped against him.

“I completely forgot.” You dragged a hand down your face.

“Still wanna go?” He questioned.

You contemplated for a moment, knowing that the last thing you wanted to do was leave your apartment and put on a happy front after the day you’d just had. At the same time, however, you’d feel bad for blowing Chan and Jisung off. “Dunno….” You began. “I’m just not really in the mood.”

Changbin inched his face closer to yours, pouting once again. “I hate seeing you so down,” He complained. “Let me cheer you up.”

You gave his cheek a poke as soon as it was within reach. “Hm...what do you have in mind?”

“You just need some Vitamin Bin, of course.” He replied confidently, lifting his head with a grin.

The comment made you crack a real smile at last, and out of habit your hands found his cheeks to cup them. “Yeah?” You hummed. “Maybe I do.”

Changbin giggled in that boyish way of his, scrunching his nose and nuzzling into your touch. His lips brushed against yours as he did so, making your heart skip a beat at the sudden closeness, and you wasted no time before closing the gap between you.

He made a soft, content noise as your mouth connected with his. You kept your hands on Changbin’s cheeks, holding him in place to deepen this kiss while his own hands moved to latch on to your shirt.

The sensation of his warm, plush lips against yours instantly eased your tension, but despite that, you were itching for more within seconds. All the pent up stress inside you was aching to be released, and your restraint faltered as you grazed your teeth along his lower lip.

A sweet sound escaped Changbin, heightening your desire at an alarmingly quick rate. He opened his mouth wider in response to you nibbling on the sensitive skin, allowing you to slip your tongue inside.

Another soft moan tumbled out of him that made your spine tingle with excitement, and you moved your hands up to his hair to tangle your fingers in it.

Just as you felt yourself getting lost in the kiss, Changbin pulled back to give you a curious look, picking up on the underlying hunger in your movements. He licked his lips out of habit, trying to compose himself before he spoke.

“Do you...” He began tentatively, unsure if he had read you right. “Do you wanna keep going?”

“Only if you do.” You murmured. “I’m feeling a little mean today. Think you can handle it?”

Changbin nodded eagerly, and you knew by the way he clung to you that he’d become just as riled up in such a short time. “Let me make you feel good.” He urged, brown eyes full of an adorable determination.

A new look crossed your face that was almost unreadable, at least until the next words left your lips. “You think you can make me feel good?” You cooed, a hint of mockery creeping into your voice. “Don’t give yourself so much credit, Binnie.”

Your words made Changbin’s cheeks redden, and he averted his eyes in embarrassment. “I can…” He insisted quietly, biting his lip. “Please, let me.”

He gripped your shirt tighter as if to emphasize his plea, making the corner of your mouth curve up just barely.

“Hmm, you don’t sound so sure.” You tilted your head. “You’re not lying to me, are you?”

You gave Changbin’s hair a harsh tug, morphing anything he’d planned to say into an embarrassingly high-pitched squeak.

Without giving him the chance to recover, you leaned forward and attached your lips to his neck. His breath hitched in surprise, and a stifled moan quickly followed as you opened your mouth against his skin. You left hot, wet kisses along the column of his throat, only stopping to suck intently right below his Adam’s apple.

Changbin whimpered as you took his soft skin between your teeth and bit down with little restraint. Your hands felt up his muscles as they found their way down his body, giving his waist a squeeze for good measure.

“W-wait,” He stuttered out. “Let me do it.”

He swallowed hard as you gave the mark you’d created a soothing lick, his throat bobbing beneath your tongue. “You’ll get your turn,” You mumbled. “But first I’m gonna have my way with you.”

Changbin melted at that, going quiet once more. Pleased with his reaction, you continued sucking fervently, creating another love bite at the base of his throat. He let out a low whine as you nipped gently above his collarbone, encouraging him to tilt his head even further and grant you better access.

Your hands slipped under the hem of his shirt, feeling up his warm skin underneath. He immediately complied with your silent order, tilting back just enough to give you leeway to remove his top and pull it over his head, tousling his hair in the process.

You licked your lips as his upper body was revealed to you, taking in the sight of his toned chest and arms, as well as the bright splotches of red forming on his skin thanks to your mouth. The blush was back on his face in an instant, your stare made him squirm sheepishly in place.

“Such a gorgeous body.” You hummed, trailing a finger down the curve of his chest. “And good for only one thing, hm?”

Goosebumps formed on Changbin’s skin wherever your touch roamed. “M-mhm.”

His meek reply strengthened your desire to see him turn hot with shame. “Why don’t you tell me what that is?” You prompted.

Changbin bit his lower lip once more, a look of hesitation crossing his face.

“Making you feel good.” He offered weakly.

You frowned at that, unsatisfied with his answer. “C’mon, baby boy,” You pressed, taking hold of his chin and forcing him to look at you. “Be more specific for me.”

He struggled to hold your gaze, his pupils wide with arousal and flickering from you to the mattress. Another whine slipped out of him when he realized you weren’t going to let up, and he inhaled sharply as if to steel himself.

“I’m only good for f-fucking you.”

Changbin felt a fresh wave of humiliation wash over him the moment the words left his mouth, and you finally allowed the giggle you’d been holding back to slip out. “That’s it.” You purred, giving his burning cheek a pat of approval.

He ducked his head as soon as your hand left his chin, and his embarrassment only grew when you came to notice the bulge that had begun to form in his pants.

“Seems like Binnie likes being reminded of his place.” Your hand traveled down to ghost over his clothed length, making him jump when you gave it an unexpected squeeze.

He whimpered in a feeble protest, unable to deny it when he was so obviously hard in your palm, no doubt from your teasing. You curled your fingers around him, applying just enough pressure to make his breathing pick up.

Your free hand trailed along Changbin’s shoulder and down to his bicep, grazing over the skin in a way that had him longing for more. He pushed his hips forward just barely, and a tiny mewl escaped him as your index finger passed over his hardened nipple. “Such an eager little slut.”

“Please…” He whined softly, squeezing his eyes shut.

The need in his voice fueled you like nothing else, and you palmed at his bulge a few more times before pulling your hand away. He exhaled shakily, his dick twitching at the loss.

“Undress.” You ordered finally.

Changbin’s hands instantly flew down to undo the buttons of his pants, and you watched in amusement as he fumbled with them. He wiggled out of the clothing almost too quickly, pulling his boxers down in one go. A light hiss left his lips as he sprang free, and you felt a rush of arousal as his cock came into view, standing up against his stomach.

“So hard for me,” You marveled, eyes lingering on the beads of precum that had begun to leak out of him. “You gonna put this to good use?”

You took hold of his length roughly, eliciting an especially loud squeak. “Y-yes!” He managed, sucking his lower lip into his mouth. “I’ll be a good boy for you.”

“We’ll see.” You replied. The disinterest in your voice earned a childish pout from him, but he stayed quiet nonetheless, knowing better than to challenge you.

You leaned back lazily against the cushions, still fully clothed. “Don’t just sit there looking lost,” You scolded. “Get to work.”

Changbin stuttered out an apology before complying, hands unsteady as he moved to undress you. His big eyes darted up to yours, wordlessly asking for permission to remove your clothing. You simply nodded, making no effort to lift your arms or hips in order to help him.

He didn’t complain, however, instead doing his best to pull off your shirt and pants as smoothly as possible.

He swallowed hard as your body was fully exposed to him, and a low, needy noise formed in the back of his throat as you spread your legs, allowing him to see the part of you he craved so desperately.

Changbin wasted no time before shifting from his spot, his whole body trembling in anticipation as he adjusted his position to settle between your legs. The head of his cock slid along your folds, making the both of you suck in a sharp breath.

“Go on, Binnie.” You invited. “Let’s see if you’re as good of a boy as you say you are.”

Your order had an underlying threat to it that made his heart skip a beat. Carefully he lined himself up with your entrance and began to ease in little by little. A long, broken moan escaped him as he slid inside of you, the wet heat engulfing him and clouding his senses.

Your toes curled as he bottomed out inside you, and you let out a heavy, almost relieved exhale. It took Changbin several moments to collect himself, his eyes briefly fluttering closed as the pleasure sunk in. “Hah...so good,” He gritted his teeth.

Bracing himself, he pulled out of you, struggling to suppress a groan as he did so. He left just the tip of his length inside before pushing forward sharply, filling you up once more.

With your words in mind, he immediately repeated the action, jerking his hips and earning a shaky sigh from you. “That’s it,” You breathed. “Keep going.”

The encouragement urged Changbin on, and he began to thrust in and out of you at a steady pace. His teeth dug into his plush bottom lip as he increased his speed, trying and failing to keep his moans under control.

The sounds began to spill out of him with little restraint as he lost himself in the addictive rhythm. His cock brushed against your walls in a way that sent shivers down your spine, and a sinful cry escaped Changbin as you clenched around him.

“You make the sweetest noises,” You hummed. “Even while doing something so filthy.”

Changbin’s face grew hot, your comment making him realize just how loudly his voice was ringing out already. Despite that, he resisted the urge to hold back his cries, knowing how much hearing them satisfied you.

“Th-thank you,” He stammered weakly. “You f-feel amazing...so hot and—ngh—wet.”

Your hand slid along his back and up to his head, lacing your fingers in his soft hair like before. “Yeah? Sounds like you’re feeling even better than me.” You drawled, the scorn seeping back into your voice. “Binnie likes fucking me like a desperate whore?”

Your jab was met with a flustered whimper, and Changbin ducked his head to let his bangs fall into his gaze. “Y-yes.” He mewled. “Love it.”

You used your hold on his head to yank it back up, forcing his eyes to meet yours. They quivered slightly as he held your stare, wide as moons and glossed over with lust. “Is it–ah–good for you, too?” He asked meekly.

The question sounded far too innocent given the way Changbin was sliding in and out of you, stimulating every inch of your core in just the right way. His expression silently begged for your approval, only fueling your desire to mess with him further.

“Mm...you can do better than that, can’t you?” You dug your nails into his scalp. “Or do you only care about getting yourself off?”

Changbin whined pathetically, clinging to you in distress. “No!” He protested. “Wanna m-make you feel good. Please, tell me what to do.”

“Faster.” You ordered simply.

His hips snapped forward instantly, following your demand without missing a beat. He leaned forward to drop his head on your shoulder, letting out a choked sob as his pace increased.

The way his thrusts picked up made you gasp lightly, and you wrapped your legs around his waist to steady him. The action allowed his cock to reach even deeper inside you, sending sparks of electricity through both of your bodies.

Changbin’s lips ghosted over the skin of your shoulder momentarily before he began pressing urgent kisses along it, trailing towards your neck. The soft warmth of his mouth combined with the pleasure each jerk of his hips brought melted away any remnants of stress, leaving you to focus only on how perfectly he filled you up.

“You were made for this, hm, Binnie?” You purred. “Just a fucktoy built to please me.”

The taunt made his ears burn in embarrassment, but despite that, he nodded almost frantically. “H-hah...yes.” He panted into your skin. “Just wanna be the b-best toy for you.”

His plush lips continued moving up your neck, and you couldn’t help your moan as he opened his mouth against you, his kisses growing wet and sloppy. The sound urged Changbin on, and he rutted into you with more vigor, solely fixated on bringing you to your climax.

Small beads of sweat began to form on his forehead from all his efforts, and his damp hair tickled your skin as his lips covered every inch of your neck. Your hands found their way to Changbin’s shoulders, while his hands moved up to paw at your chest, kneading the soft flesh with an adorable urgency.

“Oh, God,” He whimpered. “It’s s-so good.”

His cock twitched as he gave a particularly hard thrust, and he pulled away suddenly with a gasp. “G-gonna cum soon!”

You dug your fingernails into his shoulders, making him falter. “Are you?” You clicked your tongue. “You think you get to cum inside me, just like that?”

The question snapped Changbin from his daze, and his eyes darted down to give you a helpless look. “I—please,” He whimpered, not even giving himself to be ashamed of how quickly he resorted to beginning. “P-please let me, I’ve been a good boy.”

“You don’t get to decide that.” Your hand slid up to his neck. “Once I’m finished, I’ll think about whether you can cum.”

Changbin whined miserably, but he didn’t dare complain, too determined on his goal to please you. Your fingers danced around his neck before fully gripping it, squeezing the sides and earning a filthy groan from the boy. His eyes fluttered shut, eyebrows furrowing as he focused on delaying his high and bringing you to yours.

His thrusts slowed in pace in an attempt to contain the overwhelming pleasure building in his abdomen. Your breath hitched as the head of his length brushed against your sweet spot, your fingers pressing deeper into his skin. He immediately noticed your reaction, and he angled his hips properly before jerking them forward again, recreating the delicious sensation.

“Right there,” You tightened your hold on his hair. “Even a dumb whore like you can figure it out, yeah?”

The sweat on Changbin’s forehead began to trickle down his face as both of your orgasms drew closer and closer, stray droplets splattering onto your skin. He gritted his teeth, trying with all his might to hold himself together for you.

Your breathing became less and less controlled as the hot pressure built up inside you. Changbin’s cock jerked as he hit your sweet spot just right, causing a broken gasp to tumble out of you. The sudden burst of pleasure sent you over the edge all at once, and before you knew it, you were cumming.

Changbin’s own strangled moans mixed with yours as you clenched around him, making his head spin as he continued thrusting into you. Your orgasm was intense as it washed over you, and you arched your back off the cushions, letting the blissful feeling rid you of the last of your worries.

“Ngh...please!” Changbin’s desperate call rang out through the room before you’d even finished, his voice breaking. “Gonna go crazy. Please, can I c-cum?”

You struggled to catch your breath, the waves of pleasure still rippling through your body. “Think you deserve to cum inside, angel?” You hummed, taking in his wrecked state through half-lidded eyes.

“Y-yes…inside, please,” He mewled. “W-wanna cum inside. Wanna fill you up, please—ah—let me.”

“So filthy, Binnie.” You laughed breathlessly at his babbling, loosening your hold on his neck. “Go ahead, let it all out.”

That was all it took for Changbin to come undone. With one last snap of his hips, he reached his climax, pushing his length as deep into you as possible as his seed spilled out of him. He let out a sob of pleasure, and the sound of it along with the hot sensation of his cum coating your walls made you shiver.

His hand palmed helplessly at your chest, and you pulled him down into a kiss to muffle his cries. The feeling of his swollen lips against yours made you sigh, and you kissed him over and over as he whimpered into your mouth.

You stayed that way for several moments, relishing in Changbin’s cute sounds as he emptied the last of his load inside of you. Your hand dropped to rest on his back, rubbing it gently as he came down from his high.

It wasn’t until your lungs began to ache for air that you pulled away, a trail of saliva connecting your shiny lips. Changbin’s eyes finally fluttered open as you broke the kiss, and his eyes were hazy when they connected with yours.

“Good boy.” You murmured.

After all your harsh words, the simple praise made Changbin’s face break out into a bright smile. “I did well?” He asked shyly, eager to draw out any compliments he could. You gave a lazy smile of your own, using what little energy you had to brush back his damp bangs and place a kiss to his forehead.

“You always do.” You replied sweetly, admiring his flushed cheeks. You shifted a bit as you settled back against the cushions, making Changbin realize with a start that he was still inside you. Sucking in a deep breath, he braced himself and delicately pulled out, causing your sensitive bodies to jerk in unison.

Changbin licked his lips as he noticed his seed slowly dripping out of you, his eyes practically gleaming at the sight of it. “So much…” He murmured, almost absentmindedly. “Don’t want it to spill.”

You felt a strange affection as you studied his cute expression, knowing how proud he must be feeling.

“We should get you stressed out more often.” He commented playfully, readjusting his position to fully nestle into you.

You snaked your arms securely around him, giggling along as he rested his face in the crook of your neck. “Don’t even think about it.”

#skz smut #sub!skz #sub!changbin #dom!reader #changbin smut

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nctsjiho · 2 years

Text

Trust Me One More Time

genre: angst, parent!au pairing: Haechan x oc, Haechan x female!oc, idol!Haechan, ex-idol!oc cw: (bad) parenting; arguing; talks about "giving up"; this is a really heavy fic (imo) with a heavy but hard to explain plot without spoiling it all, if u read this fic, feel free to stop whenever you feel uncomfortable

This is NOT part of the same NCT addition!JiHo AU. Think of this as an alternate version of that universe or part of the imagine series I have done so far under 'writer.answers'. If you are stumbling upon my blog for the first time, this is a standalone fic u can read pretty much without knowing anything about my oc.

❀ Being new parents isn't easy. Still being able to care for his child while being an idol, Haechan can't seem to understand the mother of his child's struggles.

“Don’t cry, baby,” the new father cooed as he walked towards the cot, having just returned from work. He leaned over the bed to find his son’s restless body. Despite not being able to move much, the little baby had mustered all his strength to reach his tiny arms out once he saw his father. “What’s gotten you so upset?” Haechan asked with a pout as he brought the baby up in his arms. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

Haechan ignored the figure on the couch as he decided to retrieve a bottle of milk for his child first. When he returned to the living room he sat down on the couch, still skillfully handling the baby in his arms and started to give him his milk. “There you go,” he whispered softly before turning to the mother of his child.

“Why didn’t you feed him?”

An exhausted, emotion-filled sob left Jiho’s lips. “I tried, but he wouldn’t eat,” she told him while she still didn’t make eye contact with him.

“How long ago was that?”

“I don’t remember.”

Silence filled the rather dark room, only lit up with a small yellow-toned table lamp. It wasn’t a comforting silence. The tension between the two adults was only thickening, so much so that it seemed like Dongmin—their child—felt it as well. The 4 month year old had stopped drinking for a significant amount of time, causing Haechan to look back down at him which seemed to comfort him as he started to drink again. “So what? Were you planning to let him starve? He’s eating just fine now.”

“It wasn’t that long ago,” Jiho whispered again.

“Maybe he’s scared because you’re acting like that.”

That's where the conversation ended for the moment. Haechan finished feeding the baby and moved him to the nursery where another cot was. He waited for Dongmin to fall asleep before returning to the living room, where Jiho still sat.

“This is exactly what I mean,” he sighed and blatantly motioned over her form. “You’re sitting there like you’re straight out of a horror movie. With your hair in your face, wearing the same clothes that you’ve been wearing for a week now. Jiho!” he suddenly yelled her name, getting her to look at him. “Get a hold of yourself.”

Haechan was almost begging her at this point, he was getting tired as well.

“I tried—”

“Try harder! This isn’t just any child, this is our child.” By now, Haechan had kneeled down in front of her. “You’ve always been amazing with children. What’s different now?”

“He’s… our child.”

Haechan shook his head as if he was in disbelief and moved even closer to Jiho. He pulled her legs down off the couch away from her chest and wrapped his arms loosely around her waist. “All the more reason for you to love him. You love him don’t you?”

“He doesn’t like me.”

“It’s only been 4 months, Jiho,” he told her as his hand softly caressed her lower back. It had become a habit since during the last months of her pregnancy she always complained about her lower back and he always gave her massages for it. “You just need to spend more time with him—”

“I’m always here! Haechan, I’m the one who gave up on being an idol for this. I’ve been with him ever since—”

“You never call Dongmin by his name.”

Jiho pushed Haechan away and threw her head back in annoyance. Once she sat back straight, causing Haechan to see her face again, he could see that angry tears were running down her cheeks. “Your son hates me.”

“He’s our—”

“HE’S NOT MY CHILD!”

Those words took Haechan by surprise. In his shocked state he couldn’t even notice Dongmin starting to cry in his nursery—probably having heard the commotion from his parents. “How could you say that?”

“I had to give up everything! I stayed with him ever since he was born and did everything for him because you said we could do this. You said we would be great parents. I— I’m not a good mother, Haechan,” she confessed.

“I can’t get him to eat anymore. He won’t take bottles from me, he doesn’t even like me holding him. He cries the whole day if you aren’t here. How can I be a good mother if he doesn’t even like me?”

At this point Jiho had crashed onto her knees on the floor and started sobbing. The Jiho that was crying in front of him wasn’t the Jiho Haechan used to know. She wasn’t the girl—now woman—that he once fell in love with.

“Then try harder.”

Hearing those words, Jiho looked up at him in disbelief. Haechan was hovering over her with a hard to read expression on his face.

“What?” Her voice sounded a lot smaller than she expected it to sound.

“I’m not here to work the whole day, to provide for our son only for you to sit here and cry because you’re having a hard time feeding him. Maybe if you breastfeed him like the doctor told you to, Dongmin would trust you more.”

Confusion washed over Jiho as she didn’t expect Haechan to suddenly turn on her and sound so condescending. “What are you talking about? You knew I never wanted to breastfeed even before he was born. You knew this.”

“I want to help you Jiho, I really do. I know that we should’ve been more careful, that you put your trust in me and it’s my fault that we have a child now, but Dongmin is beautiful. He was an accident, but he’s the happiest little accident that I cannot get myself to regret. I know I broke your trust before, but ever since we found out you were pregnant I’ve never left your side. Can you please trust me again? We can do this together, okay? Isn’t that enough?”

Haechan had pulled Jiho closer to him, holding her by her forearms as he asked for her trust once again. However, Jiho started to shake her head.

“It’s not enough, Haechan. I’ve been scared ever since I found out I was pregnant. I’m still scared and you haven’t acknowledged it until now. Hell, I still don’t know if you realise it. The only reason I haven’t— the only reason I went through with it all is because it’s made you happy.”

“I—” Haechan stopped himself from speaking, feeling frustration rise in his body once again. “Let’s talk about this during dinner, okay? You order whatever you like. I’ll go check on Dongmin, we woke him up again.”

Jiho didn’t respond, but Haechan didn’t wait for a response anyway. He had already turned to go to the nursery, where he found his little boy crying once more. The baby was a bit fussy, but instantly calmed down once his father picked him up and swayed him around for a bit. “Your momma is a good person. She’s just really scared and appa hasn’t been very patient or considerate of her. Don’t tell her I said this, but I still love her very much.” Haechan chuckled a bit at how pathetic he sounded, but quickly shrugged it off. He placed a soft kiss on his son’s forehead before placing him back down in his cot. Dongmin fell asleep instantly.

Haechan took a little moment to regain himself before walking back into the living room. “Jiho,” he called out for her, but there was no response. “Jiho?” When she still didn’t answer and he couldn’t see her when peering through the door to the kitchen, Haechan decided to look through the whole house.

He checked Jiho’s room first. Haechan had never stood still by the fact that her room was pretty much empty since the first day they moved into the house. It had none of her personality and although Jiho was more of a minimalist, Haechan remembered how her dorm rooms from the time she was still an idol were filled with little trinkets. She used to always hold onto meaningful—and even meaningless—gifts from the members and fans. This room only held a bed, a dresser, a bookshelf and a chair she would read those books in.

Moving on—not forgetting to knock on the bathroom door and checking if it was empty—Haechan walked through all the rooms in the house until he reached his own bedroom. His room was right next to Dongmin’s nursery, only separated by an ensuite bathroom.

“Jiho?” He pushed the door open hoping though not expecting Jiho to be inside. As he predicted, there was no one in his room. He looked around and noticed the two pictures on his dresser. One of them was of him and Jiho while they were still coworkers. They were younger, though not by much and they seemed incredibly happy. The second picture was of them a few weeks after Dongmin was born. Haechan was the one holding Dongmin while Jiho sat next to him. She looked visibly tired in the picture, something that Haechan hadn’t noticed before. He also realised that in every picture that they have together, Haechan was always the one holding Dongmin. The only exception being the picture of when the doctor handed Jiho Dongmin when he was just born.

Returning to the living room, Haechan had dialled Jiho’s number, hoping she would pick up and explain she was just picking up some food at their favourite Thai place down the street. Something stopped him dead in his tracks though, when Haechan noticed something missing. It took him a second to clock what he had seen—or had not seen—before he set out in a panic.

The sweater he was wearing the whole day and had dropped on one of the chairs in the living room when he returned from work was missing. He walked towards the front door and Jiho’s shoes—the ones that she could slip onto easily whenever they decided to go on a quick walk—were gone. “Ji…”

With a deep, shaky exhale, Haechan slipped on his own shoes and ran towards the neighbours door. At the urgent knocks on the door a woman in her mid to late 30’s opened the door and asked what was wrong. “Mrs. Choi, please look over Dongmin for a while. He’s sleeping in his cot in the nursery.”

Mrs. Choi nodded quickly. “What’s wrong? Where is Jiho? Is everything okay?” she fired the questions as soon as she noticed something must’ve been horribly wrong.

“I don’t know, I— I’ll be back,” Haechan yelled out in a hurried stuttering mess before running down the stairs towards the street.

He started taking off to that favourite Thai place over there, only to be confronted by the sign he forgot about. Closed permanently in big black letters letters on the door. “God damnit,” Haechan cursed, turning around and starting to run the other way, not knowing where to go.

“Haechan?” A familiar voice stopped him.

With a relieved sigh, Haechan ran up to the old owner of the Thai restaurant. “Sir, have you seen Jiho?”

“Your wife?” Not having the time to correct the older man, Haechan nodded. “I’m sorry, Haechan. I haven’t seen her. Why? What’s—”

“I’m sorry! I have to go!” Haechan yelled as he hurried further down the street continuously trying to reach JiHo’s phone that she wouldn’t pick up.

Sweat was beating down his face and if he wasn’t so preoccupied with other thoughts, he would’ve thought he was close to having a heart attack with how hard his heart was beating. “Jiho!”

When he finally reached the park he frequented with Jiho and Dongmin, he stopped to catch his breath again. He took a few moments, his hands were shaking violently.

“Jiho… I— You’re an amazing mother. If there’s one thing I want you to know, then it would be that you are the bravest woman I know. You trusted me despite me giving you the life you hated. Yet you still stuck with it. You still try to take care of Dongmin despite having a hard time. If you were a bad mother— You would’ve given up by now, but you didn’t.

“I don’t deserve you, Jiho. But— Dongmin needs you. He needs a mother like you. Please… Jiho please don’t give up. I love you—”

Beep beep beep~

---

READ PART 2 HERE

S/N: idk what tag to post this under so for now I'll use jiho.writings and post it on the main writing masterlist under it's own thingy. Might be subject to change, so if u don't find it under that masterlist it will be on my main pinned masterlist.

masterlists: main masterlist || jiho.writings masterlist

#jiho.writings #nct 24th member #haechan angst #nct angst #nct imagines #nct haechan angst #haechan imagines #nct haechan imagines #nct female addition #nct dream angst #nct 127 angst #nct additions #nct added member #nct female member #nct additional member #nct addition #nct extra member #kpop!addition #kpop!oc

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