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lxndonorris · 3 days

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home race - Oscar Piastri

Y/N x Oscar Piastri Theme: Smut (you've been warned) you're in a long-distance relationship with Oscar and surprise him at his "home race" x word count: 3250+ taglist: @game-set-canet open for requests :) EN: Another big piece and I hope you'll like it. My first time writing Oscar.

You sat in your living room, staring at your phone. The screen displayed a countdown timer you set months ago when you and Oscar, your boyfriend, decided you could handle a long-distance relationship.

Living in the United States while dating a Formula 1 driver based in Europe wasn't easy, but the two of you made it work. You spoke every day, sent each other thoughtful gifts, and cherished the moments you could spend together in person.

The countdown finally hit zero. It is time for your big surprise.

Oscar is in Monaco for the Grand Prix, and you planned to surprise him for months since the season started. You told him you wouldn't be able to make it due to work commitments, but in reality, you managed to arrange everything perfectly, with a little help from the Mclaren Team.

You had your flights booked, your accommodation sorted, and a special pass that would allow you into the Mclaren motorhome, where Oscar would eventually be.

When you boarded your flight, you felt a mixture of excitement and nerves. You knew how much this surprise would mean to Oscar. The past few months have been challenging for him, dealing with the pressures of being a professional F! driver while missing you. You wanted to make this moment unforgettable.

After a long flight and a quick check-in at your hotel in Monaco, you head straight to the racetrack. You are wearing a Mclaren team hoodie, jeans, and a fitting cap, blending in with the team. You find your way to the motorhome and, with the help of a team member who is in on the surprise, get inside and wait for Oscar.

The atmosphere in Monaco is electric. The sun shines brightly over the azure waters of the Mediterranean, and the roar of engines echoes through the narrow streets of the city. The Monaco Grand Prix is one of the most prestigious races on the calendar, and the excitement is palpable.

The qualifying session just ends, and he pushes his car to the limit and secures second place on the grid. The team is ecstatic, and Oscar feels a rush of adrenaline as he climbs out of the car, waving to the cheering fans.

Inside the motorhome, your heart races as you finally hear footsteps approaching. The door opens, and you turn around to see Oscar standing there, a look of shock and disbelief on his face.

"Y/N? Is that really you?" Oscar's voice trembles with emotion.

You smile, your eyes filling with tears.

"Surprise!"

Oscar closes the distance between you in an instant, wrapping you in a tight embrace. He buries his face in her hair, inhaling your familiar scent, and holds you as if he never wants to let go.

At the same time, the faint scent of him swirls around you, and with a deep breath, you take it in, closing your eyes for a second to relish in this moment.

"What are you doing here?" He murmurs, his voice choked with emotion. "I can't believe you're here."

"I wanted to be here for you, at your home race." You say softly. "I've missed you so much, Oscar Piastri Leclerc."

Both of you pull back slightly to look at each other, your eyes meeting with an intensity that speaks volumes. Oscar cups your face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing away the tears that escape down your cheeks.

"I've missed you too, Y/N. More than you can imagine."

You kiss—a tender and passionate kiss that seems to make up for all the time you spent apart.

When you finally break apart, Oscar can't stop smiling.

"You look amazing in that Mclaren gear," he says, his eyes roaming all over you as they sparkle with admiration.

You chuckle, feeling a warmth spread through you. "I have to show my support for my favorite driver."

As you stand facing each other, the air between you seems to be charged with electricity. You feel the tension and excitement from qualifying still radiating off Oscar.

Tentatively, you reach out, letting your hand run across his firm chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heaving chest beneath your fingertips. His whole body is slightly tensed, still buzzing from the adrenaline rush.

Oscar's eyes soften as he looks at you, a smile spreading across his lips.

"It's so good to see you," he murmurs, his voice filled with awe.

You smile back, your gaze drifting over his racing suit. "You look so good in that green and yellow racing suit, Oscar. Really, you do. It suits you perfectly."

The special suit, designed to honor Senna, clings to his frame in all the right ways, accentuating his athletic build. The vibrant colors contrast beautifully with his complexion, making him look every bit the star he is.

Oscar chuckles, a hint of pride in his eyes. "Thanks. I didn't think I could pull off these colors, but hearing it from you makes me believe it."

Your fingers linger on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. "I missed you so much," you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

As your hand continues to stroke his chest, you feel Oscar's hands move to your waist, his fingers lightly gripping the fabric of your jeans. He pulls you slightly closer; your bodies now mere inches apart. The intensity of his gaze makes your heart flutter.

"Do you have some free time?" You ask, your voice soft and teasing, eyes glimmering with anticipation.

Oscar smirks, a playful glint in his eyes. "For you? Always."

The corner of your mouth lifts in a smile, your hand moving up to his shoulder. "Good." You breathe deeply, feeling the tension between you increase even more. "Because I've been waiting for this moment for a long time."

Unable to resist any longer, you lean in and kiss him passionately. The moment your lips meet, Oscar melts into the kiss, his arms tightening around your waist. The warmth and familiarity of the embrace make everything else disappear, leaving just the two of you in your own private world.

As the kiss deepens, you steady yourself against his firm chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. His hum of approval sends a thrill through you, and you take your time, savoring the moment, relishing the closeness you missed for far too long.

With a teasing glint in your eye, you reach for the zipper of his racing suit. Slowly, you begin to unzip it, feeling the resistance of the fabric give way. Oscar's breath hitches as you draw the zipper down to his tummy, exposing his tight black fireproofs beneath.

You let your hands slip inside, and stroke his chest. "You look so good," you murmur, your hands resting on the exposed fabric. The smooth, taut material hugs his body, accentuating his toned muscles.

Oscar's eyes darken with desire as he looks at your hands running across his chest, a mixture of amusement and longing playing on his features. "You're making it very hard to concentrate," he says, his voice low and husky.

You chuckle softly, your fingers tracing patterns on his fireproofs. "Good," you whisper, leaning in for another kiss.

This time, it is slower, more deliberate; each touch and caress a reminder of the desire crackling between you.

As your kisses grow more intense, you feel the heat rising between your bodies. Oscar's hands roam over your back, pulling you even closer, as if he can't bear to let you go.

With your hands still roaming over his chest, you draw a line down to his abs, feeling the firm muscles beneath your fingertips. Each touch elicits several low growls from deep inside his throat, the sound sending shivers down your spine. As you continue your exploration, Oscar leans his head back, his eyes closing as he savors the sensation.

You decide to take things a step further.

"Let me help you." You breathe deeply, gently pushing the upper half of his suit off his shoulders.

Oscar obliges, his breath hitching as you peel the fabric away, revealing more of his muscular torso. The sleeves hang down from his waist, the tight fireproofs beneath barely able to contain the immense tension building inside him.

His muscles bulge with each movement, with each breath he takes, the strain and excitement of the day evident in every contour of his body. You can't help but admire him, your hands now tracing the lines of his arms, feeling the strength beneath his skin.

Oscar opens his eyes and looks at you, his gaze filled with desire and affection. "You're driving me crazy," he growls, his voice rough with need.

You smile with a playful glint in your eye. "Flex for me." You reply, your fingers continuing their journey across his entire upper body.

With a mischievous grin, Oscar obliges again, flexing his arms and chest, showcasing the impressive muscles that have been honed through countless hours of training. The sight makes your heart skip a beat; a rush of admiration and desire floods through you.

"Like what you see?" he teases, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You bite your lip, trying to keep your composure as you let your hands roam over his flexed muscles. "You have no idea," you reply, your voice filled with genuine awe.

He chuckles, the sound low and rumbling from deep inside his chest. "I'm just glad you're here to see it."

One of your hands traces the contours of his biceps, feeling the power and strength beneath your fingers, while you let your other hand roam freely across his chest and even further down to his crotch.

You feel his hunger building up inside his pants; the fabric bulges just along his member tenting visibly. With two fingers, you trace the tangible outlines of his lust again and again, eliciting more and more deep growls from his throat.

Oscar is thoroughly enjoying himself, responding to your teasing with a mixture of laughter and passion. You see the gleam in his eyes, the way he savors every touch and caress.

Then, with a bold move, you slip one of your hands underneath his fireproofs, feeling the intense heat of his skin radiating against your palm.

Oscar's breath hitches at the sensation, his eyes so dark with desire. With a swift motion, he swipes the Mclaren cap from your head and lets it drop to the floor. A playful chuckle escapes his lips as he leans in, capturing your mouth in a deep, fervent kiss.

The kiss is electric, filled with a hunger that threatens to consume you both—the long separation and the yearning that built up between you. Your fingers splay across his warm skin, feeling the hard lines of his muscles beneath your fingertips.

Oscar's hands roam over your back again, pulling you closer, before he takes the lead, guiding you through the room and across a huge empty wall. Gently, your back meets the wall, steadying the two of you fully.

You feel the rhythm of his heartbeat, fast and powerful, matching your own. The world around you seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you locked in your passionate embrace.

His hands are now all over your chest, his touch both soft and possessive. Each caress sends waves of electricity through you, making your pulse race as far as his race car.

Oscar's kisses trail down your neck, leaving a warm, tingling sensation in their wake. His lips are gentle yet insistent, making a path that sets your skin on fire. The sensation is almost overwhelming—a perfect blend of tenderness and desire that makes your heart swell with emotion.

Amidst your intimate moment, you take in Oscar's familiar scent, a comforting aroma that envelopes you in a sense of security and belonging—a mixture of his cologne, mingled with the faint trace of adrenaline from the day's events, and the subtle hint of his natural scent.

Breathing him in, you feel a wave of warmth wash over you, and his scent is like a familiar embrace, making it even harder to concentrate.

Now, his hands slide underneath your hoodie, his fingertips dancing across your skin. You shiver at the sensation, your body responding instinctively to his touch. The contrast of his warm hands against the cool evening air heightens your senses, making every touch feel even more intense.

"You're amazing." Oscar breathes against your neck, his voice rough with emotion. "I need you."

Your breath hitches, your hands grip his shoulders for support as you tilt your head back, giving him better access. "Oscar," you whisper, your voice trembling with a mixture of desire and affection.

His hands roam freely now, exploring every inch of your torso with a reverent touch. You feel the strength and control in his fingers, the way he holds you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

You arch into his touch, your own hands exploring the hard planes of his back, feeling the tension in his muscles. The fabric of his fireproofs is smooth and cool against your palms, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body.

"Oscar." You murmur again, your voice barely audible as you revel in the sensations he is creating. "I need you, too."

He lifts his head, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that takes your breath away.

"I'm right here," he replies, his voice steady yet husky.

Licking your lips in anticipation, you let out a long, exhausted sigh. At the same time, you feel one of his hands make its way down your chest and right to your jeans. In one swift motion, he unbuttons it, just to make way for his hand to slip inside.

Your breath hitches right away as you feel his fingers tracing patterns in all the right places.

Even though it's hard to keep your composure, you manage to return the favor, letting one of your hands run down his back, along his spine, around his waist, and between his legs.

As you touch him, Oscar lets out a low, primal groan, the culmination of all the teasing and desire building up between them. His response sends a thrill through you, igniting a fire that burns hotter with each passing moment.

The tension is palpable; both of you are aching for a release, craving the other's touch.

Together, you help each other undress just enough to make it work. Panting and growling, he tugs at your jeans until they are sliding down to your ankles, so his hands stroke your thighs delicately.

Then, it's your turn to help him. Pulling at the suit clinging to his skin, the two of you manage to pull his length out of his pants, just for you to hold it and play with it.

Exhausted, Oscar leans in, kissing you passionately. You melt into him, offering yourself for what's to come next.

The moment he slides inside your body, it sparks a tingling sensation inside your stomach, and you let out a low grunt. Simultaneously, he moans right into your mouth, making it even harder to keep a straight face.

He is the first to take the lead again.

With your back against the wall, he begins to grind his hips against yours, rhythmically, sensually, and it is easy for you to catch up. The two of you move in sync with one another, letting out low growls, moans, and grunts.

Your hands wander all over his chest, stroking him through his firerpoofs. Oscar's breath comes in ragged gasps, his eyes dark with desire as he watches you.

The sensation of your touch through the fabric sends waves of heat through him, encouraging him to increase the pace and strength of his thrusts. In return, he steadies himself against the wall behind you while his other hand lingers on your breasts.

Your movements are slow and deliberate; you are fully aware of his most sensitive spots, and you encourage him more and more. Pinching his nipples, tracing the tangible outlines of his abs, and feeling his muscles bulge harder and hader.

Panting and moaning, Oscar's body grows stiff and rigid; unable to contain himself, he bites his lower lip before he grunts angrily.

"Fuck."

You revel in the power you have over him and the way he responds so intensely to your touch.

With each stroke, you feel him growing even more aroused, his body still tightening instinctively to your touch. His hands grip your breasts tighter, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body.

The two of you move as one; every thrust sends you closer and closer to the edge, and the way he grunts deeply tells you he feels the same.

As you lose yourself in the heat of the moment, you know there is no turning back. Your passion burns bright, consuming you both in a whirlwind of sensation and emotion.

With one final, heavy thrust, both of you let go of all that pressure and tension and scream out in ecstasy.

Several exhausted moans leave Oscar's lips, and he leans forward, grateful for the wall steadying him. At the same time, you lean your head back, moaning deeply.

You rest your head against his shoulder, swallowing hard. His body embraces yours right away; his firm shoulder is the perfect place right now.

Out of breath, the two of you barely regain your composure before you lock eyes again, both of you smiling contently.

"That was so good." He moans, exhausted, before he leans in, kissing you deeply.

"Oscar." You breathe into him, kissing him back.

After your passionate moment, you share another tender smile, your hearts still racing with the intensity of your connection.

With gentle touches and soft kisses, you help each other get dressed again, your movements slow and deliberate again.

As you adjust the sleeves of his fireproofs, you look up at Oscar, your eyes filled with affection. "You were amazing today," you say, your voice filled with pride. "I am so proud of you."

Oscar smiles back, his expression softening. "I am so glad you are here." He replies, his voice tinged with gratitude.

As he begins to change into fresh clothes, you watch him closely, unable to tear your eyes away.

Oscar moves with natural grace; every movement is fluid and confident. You can't help but admire the way his muscles shift beneath his skin as he removes his racing suit and tight firerpoofs.

He catches your gaze, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. Sensing your admiration, he makes a little show out of changing, exaggerating his movements slightly as he slips out of his fireproofs and into a fresh pair of underwear you hand him.

You laught at his antics, enjoining the playful side of him that he reserves just for you. As you pull on the pair of jeans and the Mclaren shirt, you feel a surge of affection for him, admiring the way he looks in the team gear.

"You look amazing." You say. "But then again, you always do."

Oscar grins, his eyes shining brightly. "I have to look my best, especially with you around." He replies, his tone teasing.

With a final adjustment to his shirt, Oscar turns to you, his expression softening. "Thank you for being here," he says, his voice sincere.

You reach out and place your hand on his chest again, gently stroking him once more. "I'll always be here for you." You reply. "No matter what."

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 smut #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fic #formula 1 smut

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surielstea · 2 days

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Ruined Ice

Pairing: hockey!Azriel x figure skater!Reader (fem)

Summary: Az shows up early for practice and catches reader in the middle of her program, rutting up the fresh ice.

Warnings: cursing | name calling | fluff

A/N: Guys I know nothing about hockey or figure skating so please don’t come for me if some of this is wrong lmao 😭

2.3k words

The blades on the bottoms of my skates could cut through steel they were so sharp. I had made the mistake of running my thumb pad across the toepick and nicked my skin, no bigger than a paper cut but I barely even touched the metal before blood began to bead at where it had made contact.

My mood, however, was improved to its full extent when I stepped onto the ice and realized it was untouched.

I beam wildly as I begin to glide on my smooth blades around the rink, beginning my warm-ups and leaving light trails with every move I make.

Warming up took a quarter of my rented time in the rink, and the next two quarters were spent practicing my program. The state tournament was close, and approaching all too fast. My coach wasn’t able to make it tonight, yet he practically ordered me to practice anyway. I wasn't complaining, well I had been, but on this fresh ice with the cold wind nipping at my cheeks in an empty rink, I had never been more at peace.

That was the case, at least until the Hockey Players began showing up for their practices. I still had fifteen minutes left of ice time but none other than the infamous Azriel Teller was lacing up his skates on the sidelines, staring at me as I went through my routine, doing my best to ignore his gaze.

It was hard though, the man was so damned observant and I swore I could feel his eyes tracking me across the ice.

I finish my routine in my final pose, heavy breaths escaping me as I let the stance fall and I go back to my phone on the side of the wall where I can restart my music.

My phone that happened to be right in front of Azriel.

I ignored his stare and kept my eyes on the wall, making sure to go slow, knowing my freshly sharpened skates would force me straight into the wall if I went any faster.

I grab my phone with cold hands but before I even get the chance to unlock it, the male in front of me speaks up.

"You're ruining the ice," He hums and I look up from my phone, glaring at him, silently asking him if he was serious.

"Your whole team ruts up the ice every chance you get, don't start," I wave him off, scrolling through my phone to find a song to cool down to since my ice time was coming to an end.

"We rut the ice? You and your fancy twirls practically make holes straight through," He defends and I wince because I knew he was right. Especially since my skates were extra sharp tonight.

"It's not my fault you can't evade them like some bad skater," I taunt, picking a song and letting it blast over the speakers to drown him out as I skate away.

Calling Azriel a bad skater was absurd, he must've been the fastest on the ice when compared to the rest of his team, not to mention his accuracy when it came to scoring goals was outmatched. I had heard from Feyre— my best friend who was dating the team captain, that Azriel was the brains for the whole team as well, always the one planning the strategic plays, but apparently, he wasn't allowed to be a captain since he got into one too many fights during his first season.

When my cooldown music ended, mostly everyone else on the Velaris Bats had shown up for practice, staring at me as I stretched my leg up beside my head like I was an animal in the zoo. I still had five minutes left of ice time, so I made sure Azriel was watching when I practiced doing my ‘fancy twirls’, the exercise had exhausted me but it was worth it to see the look of silent rage on his face.

I continued to grin, using him as my spot as I whipped around in the air and landed gracefully down onto the ice, at such an angle that it left a horrid chip in the ice I'd have to avoid for the rest of my routine.

I spot some of the other boys noticing this as well, scowls on their faces as I give them a wink before they rush off to what I assume is the locker room to get their equipment.

Again, leaving only Azriel and I. He steps onto the ice before my time is up and I glide past him with a smirk and he returns it, something in his gaze telling me he knew something I didn't.

I brush it off and continue with my spins and jumps.

I had just come out of a lutz with enough momentum to push a boulder down a hill when suddenly all the lights in the rink shut off. I freeze, my legs buckling at the sudden change, my eyes not used to the atmosphere and before I know it I'm speeding towards a wall, incapable of scrambling to a stop on my skates that were far too sharp.

I shrieked, attempting to pivot on my toepick but it only sent me tumbling forward. I blanch at the realization that I was about to slam into the ice over such an amateur move.

But before I make contact with the frozen ground, hands come to my waist and pull me away from my sudden doom. I gasped, catching my breath as a figure steadied me, gliding along the ice along with me until I managed to come to a stop.

I look up to my savior only to find Azriel standing in front of me, his hands still on my waist as if we were pair skaters. Why was he so effortlessly graceful in the rink?

"Thanks," I mutter, my skates making a crisp sound as they halt against the ice.

"Don't thank me, it was my teammates who turned off the lights," He said, looking down at me, his hands still on my waist as we stood in the center of the rink with the lights shut off.

With the absence of his pads, I could feed his abdomen pressed to my chest, I had been panting from my restless jumps but he hadn't seemed affected when he saved me, like he knew I'd panic.

"Still, I can't afford to get any more bruises," I say through heavy breaths. He cracks a smile.

"I know the feeling," He hums, making no move to let go of my waist, and I'd be lying if I said he wasn't heavily supporting my tired limbs at the moment.

"Usually I'm better at stopping, I just got my blades sharpened," I explain and he arches a brow, his gaze almost amused.

"You don't have to make excuses, Princess, you could just admit you wanted to be in my arms," He taunts and I roll my eyes, pushing him away to which he glides back.

"Quit calling me that," I toss at him as I slowly make my way off the ice, returning to the solid ground as I put on the guards over the blades of my skates. Snow Princess had been my stage name when I was younger, it was my mom's choice, and I had been happy with it at the time, Azriel liked to remind me of it every waking moment he saw me, in fact, I couldn't remember the last time he called me by my actual name.

"Not in a million years, Princess," He continues his teasing and I huff, untying my laces and shucking my blades off, favoring a pair of tennis shoes that felt like walking on clouds compared to the tightness of my skates.

The lights turn back on and I look out at the rink, seeing just how much damage I did with my turns. I smile in triumph as I watch Azriel avoid the chips in the ice as he practically soars throughout the rink.

The rest of the players came out onto the ice only a moment later while I shrugged my coat on, losing interest in the others once it wasn’t just Azriel. They had all pushed him off the rink, telling him to hurry up and change so they could start practice already.

I ignore their raucous laughter and crude words as I make my way into the locker rooms, eager to get my stuff and then go home. I could already feel my legs aching with soreness and it's barely been a few minutes off the ice.

I opened my locker just as Azriel strolled in.

I hadn't known his locker had been situated directly next to mine until he opened it and took out all his pads and equipment, then, right then and there to my utter shock he began changing right in front of me.

"You know there's changing rooms, right?" I avoid looking at him, my eyes pinned straight to my locker as I clean it out, stuffing things into my bag.

"I'm in a rush," He said and I could see him shrug from my periphery. "I was too busy saving you from the wall," He remarks and I whirl to face him, then immediately regretting it because he was still shirtless.

"You didn't have to do that," I wished my words came out a little more sour but instead they trailed off, similar to how my eyes dipped from his face to his exposed skin, the cut of his abdomen, the ripples of muscle in his arms, and the steady rise and fall of his chest.

When my eyes meet his again, I'm also met with a stupid smirk on his lips. "Seems like you wanted me too," He teases, leaning dauntingly closer. I swallow thickly. He was so damned near I could practically feel the heat from his skin. "Seems like you want a lot more from me than just my arms wrapped around you," His gaze was entirely predatory. I swallowed thickly, heat staining my cheeks and I knew that I was blushing. "Do you want to wrap around something else?" He arched a brow and I pushed him away, my hands feeling like they were burning the moment they touched his bare skin but he stumbled back and the look of surprise on his face was priceless.

"You're such an asshole," I grab my bag and sling it over my shoulder.

"That wasn't a no, Princess," He crooned.

"I thought I told you to stop calling me that?" I frown. I could leave if I wanted to, I have my bag, I was ready. But he knew I'd rather sit here and argue with him than go home.

"I thought I told you no?" He retorts, taking a long stride forward and pinning me between him and the lockers. "It suits you," He surmised. "A stuck-up, prudish, princess," He leans closer with every word, and by the time he finished speaking his nose was nearly brushing mine. I maintained eye contact, holding my ground.

"I'm not stuck up, and I'm definitely not a prude," I cross my arms over my chest defensively.

"Is that right?" He tilts his head, his voice low. His eyes flick down to my lips, then so leisurely trail back up to my eyes.

"I'm not kissing you," I scoff, I hadn't meant to say it aloud, but now the bastard's smirk was wider.

"I don't remember saying anything about a kiss?" He taunts and I grit my teeth. “Is that what you fantasize about to help you sleep at night?”

"Oh, just shut up already.” I crash my lips onto his.

He immediately reacts to the movement, his arm wraps around my waist while his other cups my jaw, pulling me into him, not wasting a second before we have to pull away for air.

I melt into him, my cold body from the ice immediately heating as my fingers press against his bare abdomen, sliding my hand up his chest.

His hands find their way to my hips, slipping to the backs of my thighs and lifting me up, my back pressed against the lockers as my legs wrap around his torso. My arms wrap around the nape of his neck as I taste him deeper, every flick of his tongue over mine sending waves of pleasure down my spine. "We shouldn't be doing this in here," I whisper against his lips.

"I don't care," He confessed, his hands gripping the underside of my thighs tighter.

"Someone could walk in," I argue, but I don't bother pulling away.

"Are you nervous about being seen with me?" He taunts and I hit his shoulder playfully, kissing him deeply as a reply before pulling away a fraction to say,

"You're going to be late," I try to defend but I swear he could barely hear me with how drunk he was on my lips because as soon as I was done speaking his mouth was back on mine and any other words I could conjure were swallowed by his all-consuming kiss.

"You worry too much, Princess," He grumbled.

"Yo, Az!" A familiar voice shouts through the doorway of the locker room, and gods we were lucky that he had me pinned to the wall. "What's taking so long hurry up," Cassian calls, and Azriel slowly pulls away from my lips.

"Yeah, I'll be out in a second," He retorts and my head slumps back against the lockers while Azriel slowly puts me back down onto my feet.

"You're lucky we didn't get caught," I glare up at him but he only returns it with a smile. He grabs his equipment bag and slings it over his shoulder.

"This," He gestures between me and him. "Isn't over, alright?" He leans in close and I only nod. He pecks my lips before leaving the locker room, the door creaking as it shuts and leaves me standing there utterly speechless.

What the hell just happened? And why did I enjoy every second of it?

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charlieleclerc16 · 2 days

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A game of UNO*

Summary: Charles and Y/N play a game of strip UNO. The rules are of course made up by Charles himself.

Pairing: bestfriend!Charles x reader

Word count: 4K

Warnings: No actual smut, as in P in V. Just a LOT of tension and ofc sexual topics such as stripping, making out, boners etc.

A/N: I guess I am now writing for Charles too. This story is originally posted on my other blog, so if it's familiar.. That's why lol. Also, funfact, I actually played a game of UNO with myself to get these cards to be accurate haha

Like they say; as we mature, the relationship matures with us. And so does the friendship between Y/N and Charles. The countless weekends going out to pubs are now spent mostly in the comfort of their own homes playing board games and watching movies. Of course, they liked to go out and drink, and God they still drink quite a lot. But they don’t care for loud music and sweaty people all around them.

Nearly every weekend, when there are no races, they come together and spend time like they always do. Downing a few bottles of white, munching on a delicious charcuterie platter, and just enjoying each other’s company. Today was like no other. Charles perched down in the corner of the comfy sofa and Y/N is getting the glasses ready for the delicious liquid.

“Can we watch The Notebook tonight?” Y/N said as she walked into her living room with two wine glasses and the bottle of white she had been craving all day. Charles simply chuckles and gives her a judgemental look. “What?” She asks him.

“Haven’t we seen that movie like a billion times already?” He laughs. Secretly Charles is a sucker for a good romance movie and Y/N is all too familiar with his preferences. When they were both still in their teen years and just met in school, Y/N had never seen The Notebook before and Charles insisted she needed to see it.

“I mean yes, but you know I love this movie.” Y/N states, remote control in her hand to turn on the movie with a smirk on her face. She lets out a sneaky giggle, getting all comfy against his body stretched out on the sofa. Charles’ strong arm wraps around her body so naturally. His delicious scent immediately relaxing her.

* * * Halfway through the movie, Charles gets bored. Each of them are two glasses of wine in and Charles is just ready for some action. He lifts his body off of the sofa making Y/N whine at the loss of contact. He makes his way to her board game stash. His feet drag across the floor and his hips sway from left to right, dancing his way to the cabinet. She laughs at him, the dork.

“What are you doing?” She questions, he is so cute dancing around your living room with his glass in his hand.

“I am done watching that movie, again. I wanna play a game.” He says with a mischievous smirk across his face. The little twinkle in his eyes tells her he really is up to no good. He opens the top drawer of the board game cabinet and pushes around some of the stuff in there.

“Ah! There it is.” Charles chuckles. He turns around holding the pack of UNO in his right hand. He brings it back over to the coffee table and opens up the little box as he sits down on the floor.

“You don’t want to watch a movie we’ve seen a billion times yet you do want to play a game we have played a billion times?” She questions Charles, although she has a feeling that there’s a catch. The look on his face tells her he is not about to propose a simple game of UNO.

“See, you got that wrong baby.” The smirk on his face is only growing bigger and bigger. “There's a twist.” The scared look on Y/N’s face is priceless to Charles. She grabs the remote control to press pause, putting all her attention on the man in front of her.

“How about we add some spicy rules to the game?” The room falls silent aside from the heavy breathing escaping her lips.

“What do you mean, Charles?” She whispers.

“I think you know exactly what I mean.” He says as he starts shuffling the cards. “Okay so, since it’s just the two of us, we shouldn’t’ make too many additions. How about every time you can match a numbered card or wild card with the most recently played card, the other person has to take off one clothing item.” His gaze never leaves her eyes. He starts dealing the cards as if he expects her to just go along with his plan. “Let’s also say for every +2 played, the other person also has to take off one item instead of drawing two cards.” And that’s how the rules are played out.

“I don’t know, Charles.” She says looking down at the cards as she picks them up in her hand one by one. Her first card is a yellow 1. She looks at the second card before she adds it to her hand, a red reverse card. The third card she picks up has her widening her eyes, a yellow +2. She picks up the rest of the cards and she joins Charles on the floor beside the coffee table. She has already decided to play along.

“What if this ruins our friendship?” She asks.

“Then we’ll stop being friends.” Charles chuckles, lust covering his eyes.

“We can’t stop being friends just because of a game of UNO, dummy.”

“What if afterwards, you don’t want to be friends because you want to be more than that.” The flirty smirk on his face is weakening her entire body. Fuck. She’s had the longest crush on the man in front of her. Her whole body is yearning to be close to him. Of course, she wants to be way more than that.

“This would have to be the most seductive game of UNO for that to happen.” She tries to shrug off the nerves in her body. Not really doing a great job at just that.

“Shut up and play your first card.”

Charles flips over the top card of the deck. A green 1 lying flat on the table. She takes a look at the cards in her hand. There’s no green so she decides on a yellow 1. She places down the card and a hissing sound coming from Charles’ lips pulls her attention to his eyes. The look on his face looks like pure mischief. His long fingers drag through his cards. He pinches one of them in between his thumb and pointer finger with a big smirk on his lips. God, he looks so kissable.

She takes a big chug from her glass. Charles slams down his card, showing the yellow 1 matching your card perfectly.

“I would’ve never guessed I’d be getting you out of your clothes so quickly.” His voice was low and husky. Her wine glass barely touches the table before she brings it back to her lips for another chug making Charles chuckle at her nerves.

She thinks for a second before she hooks her fingers on the welt of her right sock. Her knees press into her chest and she takes both socks off, one by one.

“Hold on, this isn’t fair. You’re wearing more clothes than I am.” Charles states as she see his brain calculating. They’re both wearing socks, jeans and a T-shirt. But Charles refers to what’s underneath that. Suddenly she feel thankful for deciding on wearing a bra today, because that’s not a given for every day.

“Well, I guess that’s just my advantage of being forced to strip for you.” She shrugs.

“I did not force you.” He pouts making her giggle. She looks at the table to check back in with the card that’s last been played before diving back into her cards. She can’t help but let the slightest smirk appear on her lips before she plays the yellow +2 in her hands.

“Fuck.” Charles laughed. “Off with the socks we go.” He continues as he takes both of them off in a swift motion. He adds them to where her socks are piled up together.

Charles looks in his cards. There is a red +2 in his hand which he could just play right now but he decides to keep that one in his hand for a little longer. Instead, he pulls out a yellow 5.

Y/N sighs, feeling relieved that she doesn’t have to get rid of any more clothes right now. The anxious yet thrilling feeling is riling her up. She have never felt any excitement like this before. Charles and Y/N have been friends since forever and she has had the biggest crush on him for nearly as long. Her eyes always lingered a bit too long when they went to swimming together and he was in just his swimming trunks. Or the goosebumps his touch left on her skin as his fingers danced along her arm as a small sign of affection. Friendly affection, but it still made her feel all sorts of ways.

Both of them play a couple of cards before Charles has a big smirk plastered across his face again. Uh oh. His fingers stride along his cards again before he picks one. He places a red 7 on top of your blue 7.

“Wouldn’t it be fun if your seven was blue too?” He says as he scooches a bit closer, their legs now touching.

“Stooop, you make me nervous.” She blushes.

“Don’t be. It’s just me.” Charles reassures her and wraps his empty hand around her ankle. His thumb moves in soft strokes up and down. She knows he tries to calm her down but every stroke of his thumb is sent straight to her clit.

Y/N plays a red reverse card. Allowing her to play another card since it’s a two-player game of UNO. She’s all out of red so she draws a card, a red 4. She places it down and look back up to Charles who still has his hand on her ankle.

“Isn’t that fortunate?” Charles teases.

“Just from you saying that, I know there’s nothing fortunate about it for me.” She mumbles as she frightens the next card that he will put on the table.

Charles has a twinkle in his eyes looking at the card in his hand. The red +2 is going to get rid of her first clothing item that’ll actually reveal some skin. Charles too had been pining over her for years. He started loving her in a bit more than just a friendly kind of way around the age of 16. Now 10 years later, nothing had changed. Both of them had been dating people, trying to distract themselves from the massive crushes on each other. But at the end of the day, they always came back to each other.

He finally places his card down, an excited look on his face. But she quickly takes her green +2 and smack it down on the table.

“Hah!” She yelps. “That makes two items for you to be gone!”

“Nah-ah, baby. Haven’t you read the rules before?” He states. “We both have to get rid of one item.” Charles smirks. Mr know it all, why does he know all rules of UNO? Probably because they have played it so many times.

“+2 plus +2 equals drawing four cards. Simple.” She argues but Charles already pulled out the rules from the box. He reads out the bit about how when your opponent plays a +2 card, you have to draw two cards and afterwards may continue your turn. Y/N is kind of sad that Charles isn’t going to get rid of both his jeans AND t-shirt.

Charles takes hold of the hem of his shirt with both his arms crossed before he drags the fabric over his head. In the meantime, she stands up to unbutton her jeans. She gets distracted by the beautiful sight in front of her. His abs are gorgeously on display his toned skin is like a piece of art. Charles had always been hot. But the more he started driving, the more he started working out. And damn did it do wonders for his body.

“What are you doing?” Charles asks as he throws his shirt on top of both of their socks. He softly chuckles at her eyes staring down at his torso.

“Ehm, sorry. I was taking off my jeans.” She states, causing Charles to groan. He shakes his head in a disapproving way. “What?” She asks him.

“Should’ve just taken off your shirt like I did.” He mumbles before he picks up his cards from the table. His eyes go from the discard pile on the table to the cards in his hand. There are no more green cards in his hand so he draws a card. Luckily it’s a green one so he places it on the pile.

“Hmpf, nah. I’ll keep my shirt on for a bit longer.” She mumbles softly. Being shirtless always makes her feel so exposed. Her insecurities would peak without a shirt so she’d rather keep it on for as long as possible. Charles notices how she tries to hide herself. His hand finds its place back on her ankle and slowly travels up to her calf, stroking up and down.

“You have no idea how god damn beautiful you are, do you?” He reassures and she tries to shrug it off.

Both of them have a few cards left in hand but none of them are useful. They draw a few cards, and some of them are played immediately. Y/N look at her cards and forges a plan. With a smirk on her face, she plays a wild card allowing her to change the active colour to blue. But she has instant regret when she sees a smirk on Charles’ face that’s even wider than her own.

His fingers pick a card from his hand but before he places it down he tugs it back and picks up another one to play. A simple blue 9 lays down on the table. But the twinkle in his eyes never left.

She sighs and take a big sip of wine to empty her glass. She places her cards down on the table and gets up to grab the bottle of wine in the fridge.

“Cute undies.” Charles coos since her shirt doesn’t reach past her bum.

She comes back with the cold bottle and fills up both of their glasses, emptying the second bottle of the evening. The glasses are a bit full but who cares? She places the bottle down on the coffee table and sits back in her spot.

The plan she made a few minutes ago still works, she plays a blue reverse card allowing her to take another turn since it’s just the two of them playing. Next, she plays a blue skip card to grant her another turn. And last up she plays a plain blue 6. During all three of these cards, the smirk on Charles’ face grew back more comprehensive and she just knows what is coming.

The blue +2 that hits the table was expected, and is followed by a shout of UNO!

“Fuck.” She mumbles and takes a gulp from her glass. “Fine.” She continues before she grabs the hem of her shirt. She drags it out, trying to hold off for as long as possible. But the anticipation is turning Charles on even more. Of course, he has seen her in a bikini before, but this is different. This feels different.

Her shirt is added to the growing pile in front of the sofa. Charles notices how she feels a bit uncomfortable. Her eyes avoid his and she is unsure where to actually look. His hand reaches out for her and slides from her upper arm all the way down to her hand. He holds onto it for a little while, squeezing ever so softly.

“You really are the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen.” He reassures her by giving her the exact confidence boost she needed.

After Y/N plays her second to last card, Charles is able to finish the game by playing his very last card. Leaving him in his jeans and boxers and her in just her bra and panties.

“Let’s go for another round.” She states and already starts collecting all cards to shuffle them. Charles chuckles at her newly gained confidence. He is so ready to play a second round.

She deals the cards, places the deck back on the table, and flip over the top card of the deck. A yellow 4 is laying on the table.

“Since I won last round, you may start this one."

She places down a green 4 on top of the yellow one on the table. A simple but steady start, she thinks.

“Oh shit.” Charles says and places down the green 4 he already had in his hand, ready to play. “I’m so sorry, baby. You don’t have to…” He adds, suddenly getting nervous at the realization he is finally going to see her topless after years of wondering and imagining what she’d look like underneath.

“The game’s the game.” She states and lets her hand travel to her back to unclasp her bra. Charles gulped, feeling more nervous than he ever had before in his life. His heart was pounding as he looked into her eyes and saw the unmistakable desire there. He had no idea what she is thinking but he is fascinated by her daringness.

He watches as she pushes the straps of her bra off of her shoulders and drops the garment to the ground. She lets out a deep sigh of pleasure as her breasts become the focus of his attention, and the look in his eyes tells her he wants her just as much as she wants him.

She feels incredibly sexy and alluring. For a brief moment, their eyes meet. She feels a strange and wonderful stirring in her stomach. Her cheeks flush, and she quickly looks away. At that moment, she just knows that she is in trouble.

Without saying anything, she swiftly moves on with the game by placing down her green 8. Charles can’t seem to keep his eyes away from her for too long, giving her an enormous confidence boost.

Both of them place down a few more cards before she places down her Wild Draw 4 card and change the colour to blue. Charles draws his four cards and takes a good look at his cards. He’s having a hard time focusing on the game with the gorgeous sight in front of him.

He places down two cards in one go, a blue skip causing him to have a second turn, and a blue 5.

She places down her blue 8 and shout UNO! Charles looks through his cards again to find any card that may cause her to not finish the game. A Wild Draw 4, a +2, anything at all. But all he has is a blue 2.

“Oh my god, Charles. What are the odds.” She chuckles.

“What do you mean?”

She places down a blue 2 on top of his. She’s been waiting for this moment ever since he took his shirt off. Her thoughts have been flooded with the idea of him naked in front of her. It’s all she’s been thinking about for the past years.

“Fuck. You win the game and I have to take off my jeans?” He laughs. Without another word, he gets up, unbuttons his jeans and zips down his fly. His thumbs hook into the waistband of his jeans to pull them down painfully slow. A soft sign, nearly a moan is heard when his bulge is released from his tight pants. Ever since she had to get rid of her shirt Charles’ cock started hardening beneath him.

She gasps at the view in front of her. She makes it her mission to get him out of his boxers as soon as possible. The lust in her eyes is inevitable, not knowing where to look. His eyes? His hands, where he is pushing down his jeans? Or his bulge, which is honestly where she just wants to keep looking at.

Tension is rising and she can’t wait for him to add the last bit of his clothes to the growing pile. His jeans finally drop to the floor and he lifts his right foot trying to step out. His ankle gets stuck and she reaches out instinctively to hold the jeans down, helping him get out. She allows him to step out before she adds the denim to the pile of clothes.

Charles sits back down close to her. Both their legs touch again but now there is no fabric in between holding back the skin to skin contact. She looks down at where her legs touch and look back up to him.

“Hi.” He says with a soft smile across his lips. God those lips, they have never looked more kissable. Or is it just her mind playing games? Her thoughts are all over the place. All she wants is to just push him over, straddle him and kiss him. Everywhere.

“Hey.” She chuckles before a nervous laugh is heard from Charles’ side. Her eyes drop down to his boxers. He chose to wear navy blue Calvin Klein’s this morning and she is so thankful for his choice. The dark fabric accentuates his skin perfectly. An outline visible around his growing member.

“Eyes up here, baby.” He snorted as if he isn’t having the hardest time keeping his own eyes away from her tits.

“Sorry.” She whispers before Charles holds out his hand for her to grab. His thumb dances on the back of your hand. Both of them are quiet for a little bit as they soak up each other.

After what feels forever but actually are only 1,5 minutes, Y/N speaks up.

“Charles? What are we doing?” She questions him, still holding onto him as she looks their connected hands.

“Hmm, I don’t know actually.” He replies. His free hand reaches with his forefinger for her chin and pushes her face up so she’d have to look in his eyes. “All I know is that I want you. So, fucking, bad.”

Her eyes light up. She can’t believe he really admitted what he just said and without a second thought she gives in to her desire of just a few minutes ago.

Y/N lets go of Charles’ hand and pushes him onto the floor by his shoulders. Simultaneously she climbs on top of him, causing a muted “oh” to fall from his lips. He is surprised by her actions and honestly, so is she. His hands grab her by her hips as she sits down on his stomach, avoiding contact with his aching cock.

Their lips finally connect. Ten long years are coming together in this sweet and lustful kiss. Charles’ right hand travels up and down her side as his left nestles into her hair. The two of them sink into the living room floor, both desperate for the connection they have been longing for.

His opens his mouth and gently sucks Y/N’s lip between his. He lets go after a few seconds and licks softly over her bottom lip. Her heart races as her spine arches under his touch causing him to naturally pull her closer. She opens her mouth to allow her tongue to join his, going back and forth.

She moans with pleasure and their tongues intertwine even more vigorously, entangling with one another in a desperate search for more pleasure. Each movement they make is somehow more tantalizing than the last. Their hands exploring each other's body with a deep hunger for more.

Y/N wishes this moment would last forever. She is scared of what might happens next, what if this is just a heat of the moment kind of kiss and they really can’t go back to being just friends. Or maybe that is exactly what Charles meant with his ‘Then we’ll just stop being friends’.

Charles’ hand roams down her back. He moans a bit louder when he finally touches her bum. She feels a firm squeeze on her left cheek, ripping a moan from her throat. Y/N bucks her hips instinctively at the sweet tingles in her core.

Their lips part for a second and she presses her forehead against his. Both of them are a panting mess, feeling completely out of this world. With Charles’ hand still squeezing her bottom he speaks up.

“How about we take this to the bedroom, baby?” He whispers.

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aemondsbabe · 2 days

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From Ashes, Fire | Claimant Pt 3

summary: dragons take what they want, you and your brother are no different. but what will be left to burn in the name of happiness?

pairing: dark!aemond x sister!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, dark aemond, angst, angst but happy ending, very cersei/jaime coded moment that's all i'll say, major character death, noncanonical death, very brief descriptions of injury, blood, i promise it's nothing graphic, reader turns to the dark side lol, piv sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), minor breeding kink, possessive aemond, possessive reader, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 8.3k oops

a/n: this is it, the grand finale! i had so much fun with this series and i hope y'all enjoy the last bit!

gif creds to @aemondtargaryensource

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🔪read part 1 and part 2 here!

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"Love is the bane of honor, the death of duty."

“Jaehaera, please,” Helaena’s voice is gentle and melodic even as she scolds her daughter, pointing at one of the straw-stuffed dolls in her tiny hands, “You must share with your brother; how about you let him play with the knight, hm?”

One of Maelor’s little fists wraps tightly around your pointer finger as you chuckle at the displeased frown on the toddler’s face when she shoves the doll in Jaehaerys’s direction, though her lips quickly lift into a smile at her mother’s praise.

“Good, that’s very sweet of you,” your sister smiles, watching her eldest two children play, sitting cross-legged beside them on the plush blanket she’d had spread out on the grass.

A cool breeze blows through the grassy field while you idly look around at the many red tents and campfires, observing the groups of people gathered around – knights sat at one of the many wooden tables, a few servants peel vegetables brought from the Keep, and various nobles, lady’s maids, and other court patrons shuffle about.

Taking a deep breath, you turn your face toward the sun, cooler now as day turns to evening, and savor the first moment of peace you’ve had in nearly a week. The days since your marriage to Jace have been… eventful, to say the least, with each new duty feeling like another stab to your already fragile heart. Respite hadn’t even found you in the night, each one spent fending off your new husband’s advances with excuses of your menstrual flux having come early, headaches, and various other ailments. He was getting anxious, you could tell – each night he pushed back a little more, arguing the importance of consummating the marriage, reminding you of the vows you had both uttered in the Sept.

But how can a vow mean much if the Gods know it was only ever a lie?

You had felt your mother’s eyes on you at every turn, watching you and your brother like a hawk. Though as the days progressed her fiery stare cooled to one of guilt – a penance for subjecting you to the same fate that had befallen her. You suspected that was why she and Rhaenyra had organized this little trip; a celebratory hunt they’d called it, to commemorate the rift between your two families finally being healed.

“Dear, dear wife,” your oldest brother slurs, goblet clutched in one hand as he staggers toward you and Helaena, groaning when he flops down on the bench next to you. “Oh, you look… ravishing,” your lips quirk up into a smirk as he drapes an arm around your shoulders, giggling and making faces at Maelor.

“What did I tell you,” your sister says through a huff of laughter, violet eyes finding yours, “They ignore you until they’re drunk.”

If only that were the case, you think as you force yourself to laugh in time with her.

“That is quite rude,” Aegon chastises, brows furrowed in offense while he takes a messy swig of wine, a few red drops run down his chin. “Do you see how she treats me?” He pouts, leaning closer to you with a wry grin, “The deed is done though, yes? Bastard knew where to put it?”

“Aegon!” Helaena hisses, swatting at his knee.

The two fall into a playful round of bickering, thankfully leaving you out of it. With a sigh, you let your gaze wander again, tumbling thoughts muffling your siblings voices.

“It’s not as hard as it looks, here,” Daemon’s voice catches your attention and you watch as he points a knife at the belly of a deer he and Lucerys had hunted earlier in the day, showing the boy where to cut, “Get your knife in there – good, like that, and now just cut downwards, one clean movement…” You glance away as blood spills from the beast’s abdomen, staining the grass below it.

Looking over the treeline, you try to ignore the sick feeling building in the pit of your stomach, though you know it won’t be settled until Aemond’s back at camp. Biting at your lip, you let out an irritated huff when you can’t make out any movement in the distance, no sign of your brother or Ser Criston, even your husband.

You’d only spoken to Aemond once since your marriage – a hushed conversation hidden away in an alcove when the two of you had a spare moment alone after supper. He’d held you while you’d cried against the crook of his neck, shushing you and running a soothing hand up and down your back. You remember the way his jaw felt, teeth clenched as he rested it atop your head, letting you tuck yourself into him while he vibrated with barely contained rage.

“I can’t do this, I can’t,” you lamented, peering up at him with a mournful sob as your fingers clung to the dark jacket he wore, “They’re planning on going back to Dragonstone! Dragonstone, Aem!”

“Shh, little one,” his hands had cupped your cheeks, wiped away your tears with calloused thumbs, “I’m not letting them take you.”

His words had held such conviction, you’d wanted nothing more than to believe him, yet you’d shaken your head anyway. “I don’t think there’s any stopping them, this time,” your breath had hitched with each word, “You heard Rhaenyra, they’re leaving as soon as we’re back from the hunt and she would never agree to leave Jacaerys here, never.”

You had known you were spiraling, head spinning as you’d looked up at him, and yet the words tumbled out anyway. “I hate him, I wish he’d just… just disappear!” It was a childish little jab and yet, your heart had leapt into your throat the moment you’d said it. You were expecting to feel the clawing ache of guilt gnaw at your stomach, however, a weightlessness followed. You’d never felt lighter than in that moment – tucked away in the shadows, a secret you’d harbored since childhood finally set free.

Aemond had stayed quiet, but you saw the way his violet eye sparkled, the gears turning in his head.

Your words had echoed in his head, calling out to him like a siren’s song – the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

Finally convinced that the three men are truly not just going to materialize at the edge of camp, your gaze shifts to where your mother and Rhaenyra sit, huddled together beside one of the many firepits. Bouncing little Maelor on your lap, you’re vaguely aware of Aegon and Helaena idly chatting beside you, something to do with how your brother believes some such thing about the Small Council is a waste of time – a frequent complaint of his since taking the throne.

You’re hardly listening though, head cocked to the side while you watch the two women laughing and animatedly conversing; they remind you of the young girls at court – youthful and carefree, too wrapped up in one another to notice much around them.

That’s why she let them go together, that shadowy voice in the back of your head hisses, Too distracted to know better. You clench your jaw, only halfway aware of the stinging pain at your cuticle as you dig a nail into it.

“What say you to accompanying me on a hunt, nephew?” Aemond had asked earlier in the afternoon, voice low as he slunk over to where you, Jace, and your mothers had been sitting at one of the wooden tables, picking through a light lunch the cooks at the Keep had prepared.

“Aemond,” Alicent had sighed wearily, leaning heavily on her elbows while Rhaenyra regarded your brother with a cool indifference – evidently unaware of your family’s tensions.

“What? I merely wish to bond with my dearest sister’s new husband.”

“Uncle,” Jace had finally spoken up, pointedly grasping one of your hands that had sat on the table, “As much as I would love to accompany you, don’t you think it a bit unwise for only the two of us to go? If I remember correctly from my youth, your father used to take a whole host of men into the woods with him…”

“Do you not think yourself man enough to take on a measly buck, nephew?”

“Aemond!”

“Don’t fret, mother. ‘Twas only a joke, a tasteless one, I admit,” your hackles had raised at that, at how quickly he had stood down, so wholly unlike your brother, “Besides, I’ve taken the liberty of asking Ser Criston to accompany us as well.”

It was then, at the mention of the knight, that Rhaenyra had leaned closer to Alicent, the two of them laughing softly and sharing knowing glances while your half-sister whispered into her ear.

“Surely the three of us are more than capable of subduing a deer or two, don’t you think?”

Jace had balked at that, sighing heavily as his grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly.

“I think it sounds like a wonderful idea,” you had coached your lips into a tight smile when you interjected, “Doesn’t that sound like a lovely idea, mother?”

“Hm?” She had blinked, finally parting from Rhaenyra, the ghost of a smile still on her lips.

“For Ser Criston to accompany Jace and Aemond, to go hunting with them.”

“Well, I –”

“Surely that would be safest, yes?” You pushed, glancing at Jace before locking eyes with Aemond, “A knight with them, a Kingsguard no less.”

“I think it sounds like a fine idea,” Rhaenyra had smiled, squeezing one of your mother’s hands, “They should take the time to bond, no? Savor it while we’re together these last few days.”

“Yes… yes, a fine idea,” she had immediately agreed, always swaying to your half-sister.

“Wonderful,” your brother murmured, a slow smile spreading across his lips as he clasped his arms behind his back, “I’ll have Ser Criston ready the horses.” With that, he had stalked away, giving you one final glance.

“You truly think this a good idea?” Your husband had questioned, turning to you while your mothers got lost in yet another hushed conversation.

“Of course!” You had nodded, clasping one of his hands in both of yours, “Aemond is… odd with his affections. This is just his way of attempting to rectify things, I’m sure of it.”

“I suppose…,” he had sighed, running a hand through his dark hair.

“It’ll be fine,” you had urged, going so far as to lean over and press a kiss against his cheek, one of the scant few times you had initiated any affections.

Those words had echoed in your head while you watched the three men sheath their swords and load various bows and arrows onto their horses, the midday sun suddenly feeling much too warm against your skin.

It’ll be fine, you had reminded yourself for the millionth time when they set off, horses galloping along a narrow path that led into the Kingswood, He’s not letting them take me, it’ll be fine.

“Oh, shit,” Aegon whispers beside you, nearly dropping his goblet.

You quickly follow his eyeline, looking to where he stares at one of the small paths that lead into the camp – the sight wrenching a hitched gasp from your throat.

A hush seems to fall over the entirety of the camp, only for the quickest of seconds, before chaos erupts. Aemond stands before one of the horses, a grey one you recognize as Jace’s, steadying it while Criston pulls your husband from the saddle, smearing the side of the animal with thick streaks of red.

Daemon quickly runs over to assist while you hastily hand Maelor back to Helaena, hardly looking in her direction as you do.

“Jace? Jacaerys?!” Rhaenyra calls, picking up her skirts as she sprints over, violet eyes wide with terror, “What is it? What’s happened?”

Every noise sounds muffled when you make your way over to the huddle of commotion, Alicent following closely behind. A strange detached sensation fills you while you watch Criston and Daemon lay Jace down on a nearby bench, blood immediately soaking into the silk fabric of the pillows.

It feels as if everything is happening both too quickly and too slowly all at once – a few of the other knights rush forward, hastily pulling his tunic out of the way before pressing stark white medical linens to the gaping cut on his side. They bark orders over his body, yelling for the servants to bring water and more linens.

You feel your mother and Helaena grabbing at your arms and it’s only then you realize you’re shaking, swaying in place like a leaf on a branch; you know they’re talking to you but their words are dulled by the rushing of blood in your ears.

Somewhere in your periphery, you register the sound of Daemon’s voice, thick with desperation as he shouts question after question at Criston, “What happened? When? How? How long ago? How could you, you were supposed to protect him?!” They blend together, echoing through the haze in a roaring hum.

Distantly, you register the feel of another warm body pressing into the small pack you find yourself a part of. Helaena shushes someone next to you and your gaze tears itself away from the pools of crimson gathering on the grass just long enough to realize that it’s Luke. Your heart breaks at that, a sharp pang in your chest at the fact that the poor boy is distressed enough to seek comfort from your family, of all places.

“No! No, no, no!” Rhaenyra’s wails slice through the fog clouding your mind in such an exacting manner that your knees buckle, “Jace, Jace, look at me, please? Sweetling, please look at me!” She sobs, leaning over her son, one hand cradling his cheek.

Unseeing brown eyes stare, unblinking, up at the hazy orange sky while yours focus solely on a single, paralyzing flash of violet.

He’s not letting them take me, it’ll be fine.

The Sept is eerily quiet, normal for this time of night but unsettling all the same; the occasional fizzling noises of the dozens of flickering candles is the only way you’re able to discern that time hasn’t simply halted. Pale moonlight shines in through the windows, bathing the floor in a star-shaped pool of light and making the whites of the painted eyes resting atop Jace’s face glow like beacons.

You had picked out the stones and painted the eyes on them yourself, taking them from a spot in the gardens you knew he had favored when you were children and spent hours sourcing the pigments to make just the right shade of brown – one that reminded you of the rich chocolates that had been imported from Essos for your betrothal feast.

“A wife’s duty,” your mother had said.

Rhaenyra had glared at you the whole time; silently, you wondered if she somehow knew it wasn’t duty that drove you – only atonement.

Atonement, your mind echoes as you sit upon the cool stone steps beneath the Seven-Pointed Star, leaning your head against the bannister as you force yourself to look at his body, still atop black silks.

Must one feel guilt to atone? Must I atone for not feeling it? When will it end?

Those questions had plagued you in the days since Jace died, bled out like a hunter’s boon in the field by the Kingswood. They’d settled over you like a fever, an ever-present haunting ache, made only worse by the soft, sinful voice in the back of your head that whispered the truth – that you didn’t care, that you don’t even now.

You hadn’t cared, even as blood seeped from the gash at his side, even as you forced yourself to kneel by his still warm body and press gentle kisses to his forehead – the performance of a good wife.

You hadn’t cared in the carriage ride back to the Keep, letting your mother and your sister hold you while you cried – I’m sad, I’m sad, I’m crying because I’m sad, I’m crying because I should be sad.

And you hadn’t cared when Aemond had come to you in the dead of night, had slipped into your chambers – your chambers – through one of the many hidden passageways in the old castle.

“How?” You had asked, tracing patterns onto the pale skin of his bare chest while the two of you laid tangled in your silk sheets.

“A boar,” he answered plainly, speaking through a sigh while running his fingers over the thigh you had draped across his hips, “Just as I’ve told you the last four times you’ve asked.”

“Aemond,” you sighed in that same tired tone your mother so often used; your eyes had narrowed when you saw the corner of his lips just barely twitch up into a smile; were it any other time, he would’ve made a cheeky comment about the similarity.

“I’ve told you,” his grip tightened ever so slightly on your thigh and his other hand had grasped at your chin, guiding your eyes to his, “We had been tracking a buck, had gotten close and dismounted our horses, and had, I assume, stumbled into the beast’s territory and it charged at us.”

“Brother,” you had whispered, shaking your head and cupping his cheek, “Have you forgotten that I can tell when you lie?”

He had stayed silent for a long while at that, jaw clenched while he stared at some point off in the distance, lips drawn into a tight line. Eventually, you had laid your head down, resting your cheek on his shoulder while you tried to accept that you wouldn’t be getting the truth that night, if ever.

It was only then that he had spoken.

“Please, let me protect you.”

“Protect me?” You had looked up, brows furrowed as you studied his face, “From what?”

“From the law –”

“Our brother is king, if he says it was not murder, if he says it was an accident, which he already has done, then no one will question his –”

“Fine, then,” he had snapped, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, “From the damn Gods! I…” He trailed off, sighing heavily while he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“... the Gods?”

He’d finally looked at you again and your heart had pinched meanly in your chest when you saw tears gathering in his violet eye, “They will judge me harshly for what I’ve done, whenever the time comes, but… I will not subject you to the same fate.”

You had scoffed at that, had rolled your eyes when he looked away shamefully and had climbed atop him then, straddled his hips and turned his face toward yours, “I don’t give a shit about the Gods.”

“What?”

“I don’t,” you repeated, leaning down until your forehead touched his, “If they were good Gods, if they cared, they would not have subjected me to that sham of a marriage in the first place. They would’ve guided our mother rightly, but they didn’t.”

“Sister, I –”

“And I hate that our nephew paid for that, Aemond, I truly do, but I am the one who told you to do it.”

He had shaken his head while a mournful peal of laughter clawed its way out of his throat, “You didn’t tell me to do any–”

“Perhaps not directly,” you interjected, smiling sadly while you cupped both of his cheeks in your hands, running a thumb over the scar beneath his eye, “But I did. I could’ve told you not to, could’ve said I didn’t mean it, could’ve cautioned our mother against letting him go with you, but… I didn’t.”

“No… no, I suppose you didn’t,” he sighed, swallowing thickly as he tried in vain to blink away tears.

“I didn’t,” you echoed, your words hushed and cooed, like a mother soothing an infant, “I know what you’re capable of, I knew it then, and I didn’t.”

He nodded, his breath stuttered in his throat as a single tear rolled down his cheek.

“Because I knew you’d protect me… and you did.”

“I did,” he mumbled, nodding up at you as his face twisted and a small sob bubbled from his lips, “I did, I did it. I did it, I did. For you, for us.”

“I know,” you murmured sweetly, stroking a hand over his long hair while you pressed sweet kisses against his forehead. You held him as he cried, huddled together in the dark of your chambers

And you hadn’t cared when you realized you were smiling.

“The hour is quite late, little one,” the suddenness of his voice makes you jump, though you settle quickly.

“So it is,” you smile and look over your shoulder, tilting your head up while he walks down the steps to join you, “The hour of ghosts, yes? Fitting.”

He huffs as he sits beside you before regarding you with a slight smirk, “I suppose it is,” he murmurs, only sparing the red and black draped body on the altar a passing glance.

“Why are you here?”

“I was looking for you… Hel said you would probably be here.”

“Mm,” you nod, idly running a finger over the pattern on your skirts, finding a morbid sort of beauty in the way the rich black silks glimmered in the candlelight.

“Why are you here?” Aemond asks, eye following the line of your profile.

“Praying.”

Without looking, you can practically feel him rolling his eye beside you, huffing a little breathy laugh again, “Have you forgotten that I can tell when you lie, sweet sister?”

Hearing your own words from the night before parroted back to you pulls a laugh from you as well, though you wince as your giggle echoes throughout the Sept. “It’s funny,” you sigh, glancing about the cavernous space before finally looking at him, “This is the only place where no one wants to be.”

He hums next to you and nods his head, lets the two of you sit in silence for a moment before you continue.

“I don’t have to pretend when I’m here.”

“Pretend?”

Biting at your bottom lip, you nod and lean into his touch when he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “That I’m sad… that I feel anything, really,” you sigh, breathing the words more so than saying them, “All Rhaenyra does is cry, Daemon is ready to strangle anything that moves, Lucerys is despondent to the point of being mute. Even our own mother cries for him and I cannot muster a single tear that isn’t a farce.”

Your eyes trail back over to Jace and you regard him with a mournful stare, staying silent for a long moment as you try to will yourself to feel sad, to feel angry, to feel guilty… yet nothing comes.

“Everyone grieves differently,” Aemond mumbles beside you, though his words only serve to make you more bitter, “Perhaps, in time –”

“In time nothing will happen,” you snap, grimacing at the harshness in your voice, “I’m not sad and I am… I’m tired of pretending I am.” You murmur, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Aemond is quiet for a long while, though you can feel the energy radiating off of him in waves – you’ve always been able to tell when he has a lot on his mind. You’re content to simply let him think, taking his silence as a cue that it’s your turn to let him sort through things.

“You… are happy, though? Yes?” He finally asks after several long minutes, going strangely rigid next to you as if he’s afraid of your answer, “I know you say you aren’t sad but…”

“Aemond,” you sigh, sitting up and staring at him as a slow, creeping smile spreads across your face, “I have never been happier.”

“Truly?”

“Yes!” You quickly shift yourself on the stairs, turning yourself more toward him and placing a gentle hand on top of his thigh, “Big brother, you saved me.”

He opens his mouth to speak but you don’t let him get a word in edgewise before the emotions you’ve been bottling up over the last few days finally spill over and you practically throw yourself into his lap, straddling his hips.

“Brother, I've been tethered to him since I was eight and you have freed me from that,” you say softly, voice hardly carrying in the air. Slowly, carefully you pull his eyepatch off, the only one ever allowed to do so; there is a sadness in your smile when you gently trail your fingers over the crease of his scar, “We both lost something that night and have suffered for it ever since.”

Without another word, you press your lips to his and savor the groan your kiss pulls from him. His hands grab at your hips in the same instance yours card through his hair while your lips move together in a practiced rhythm.

Impatient, one of your hands travels down his chest and stomach, though you hardly have time to pull at the hem of his dark tunic before he grabs your wrist, stopping you.

“Aemond,” you huff, fighting against his grip.

“Surely you don’t mean to defile this place in such a way,” he murmurs, violet eye sparkling as if he were challenging you, even as he glances over your shoulder, “What would your dear husband think?

You grin at the lecherous smirk on his lips, heart pounding in your chest as a familiar ache settles at the apex of your thighs. You give one final glance over your shoulder before turning back to him with a dismissive shrug. “Husband in name only,” you remind him, yanking your hand out of his grasp and trailing your fingers over the growing bulge beneath his trousers, “I have only ever been devoted to you.”

A rough growl leaves his lips and he clenches his jaw, narrowing his eye. “We will burn for this, sweet sister,” he huffs, pale cheeks flushing while he stares up at you, one hand still settled on your hip as the other comes up to cup your jaw.

“The Seven can have their say,” your cunt clenches at the way he looks at you – surprise, lust, even reverence giving such an intensity to his gaze that it nearly knocks the wind from your lungs, “The Old Valyrian Gods can as well, I don’t care. Aemond, I don’t.”

Your hand finally, blessedly, pulls free the ties at the top of his trousers and you quickly find his length. The sharp grunt that’s wrenched from his throat when your hand wraps around it echoes through the Sept, each iteration of it making the fire in your belly burn brighter and brighter.

He doesn’t attempt to stop you when you plunge a hand beneath the fabric of your black skirts and hastily tug your smallclothes out of the way, he merely studies you in awe, as if watching a newly hatched dragon spread its wings for the first time. His gaze makes you shiver, though you dare not look away.

“What do you care about, little one?” He murmurs suddenly, unable to help himself from glancing between your bodies, licking his lips while he watches you use your fingers to prepare yourself as you rub your own slick through your folds.

“You,” you whisper, shuddering at the way you both gasp at the same time when you rut against his already throbbing length, “You are the only god I’ve ever worshiped, big brother.”

A loud groan bursts free of his lips at that and the hunger in his eye nearly catches you alight, and yet he still grabs at your hips tightly, preventing you from sinking onto his length – so out of his element, wholly unused to being taken in such a way. “Come, let us go to my chambers,” he tries, breathing your name against your neck as he leans up, “Where I can take you properly, hm? No risk of anyone interrupting…”

Undeterred, you simply shake your head and lean forward, pressing your lips against his in an eager, near feral kiss. It’s mostly teeth and tongues and thankfully, it’s enough to shock him into loosening his grip, just enough for you to take what you want. You bite at his bottom lip when you sink down onto his length, hard enough to taste iron, making him growl into the kiss, the sound of it deepening to a low groan at the feel of your tight cunt around him.

The feel of his cock stretching you open somehow only gets better each time and leaves you gasping in his lap, your hands grabbing at his shoulders for leverage while you begin grinding yourself against him, impatient and ravenous. “Ohh, f-fuck,” you curse, squeezing your eyes shut while your walls flutter around him.

Aemond’s chest heaves under your hands while he stares up at you, lips parted ever so slightly as breathy groans spill, unbidden, from them. Opening your eyes, your gaze is immediately drawn to a little smear of red beside his mouth and you lean forward – licking his pale skin clean without a second thought.

“Little minx,” he smirks, meanly grabbing at your hips again and bucking up into you. He huffs a soft laugh at the sharp moan that bursts from you, sounding louder still in the large open space of the Sept; there’s a dangerous, challenging gleam in his eye that makes you shiver. “Go on, then,” he rasps, trailing a hand up from your hip to cup the underside of your breast, his touch warm even through the bodice of your gown, “Worship your god.”

A soft, stuttered moan wrenches itself from your lips at that and you quickly obey, staking your claim over him. As you find your rhythm, rutting wildly in his lap, the only sounds echoing off the walls are that of panted breaths and the slick, wet noises from where the two of you connect. “You’re mine,” you breathe, leaning forward to bite at his throat, determined to mark him in as many ways as possible, “Y-You’ve always been mine, Aemond.”

He nods his head, hands scrambling at the ties on your bodice, determined to free your breasts. “I’m yours?” He taunts, sighing victoriously when he finally manages to practically rip the top of your gown open; his tongue darts out, wetting his lips at the sight of them and he allows himself a few seconds to appreciate the way they bounce so enticingly with each of your determined movements, “Show me, then… show me who I belong to, sweet sister.”

Something snaps inside you then, breaking and clicking perfectly into place all in the same breath; the feeble thing that was holding the dam inside of you shut disappears. Whatever greedy darkness Aemond has always harbored within himself has been slowly seeping into you since the night of your betrothal feast and now, it seems, it has finally settled into your bones as well. It’s as if he can sense it in the same instance you do and gives a subtle nod of his head, commanding you to give in.

With renewed vigor, you grind against him harshly, pressing your hips as far down onto him as you can manage until you can feel his cock pressing against the entrance to your womb. The thought of him there, of the possibility of his seed catching, of the possibility that it may already have, spurs you on further.

“I would kill for you, too,” you say lowly through clenched teeth, licking up the side of his neck until you can whisper into his ear, “I’ll do anything to have you, my love, I don’t care what it is.”

A low groan reverberates from within his chest, both of you all but snarling as you move together; his hips rut up against yours, unable to hold still any longer, and he bites a path down your neck until he reaches the softness of your breasts. You gasp as he teases at one nipple, flicking at it with the tip of his tongue while his fingers toy with the other one, only to cut yourself off with a loud moan when his lips seal around it.

“I would burn this city to the fucking ground if that’s what… what it took, brother,” the words tumble from your lips when you card your fingers through his hair, cradling the back of his head and holding him against your chest. Your head tilts down, heart pounding in your chest while you watch him savor the feel of your warm flesh in his mouth; his violet eye snaps up and his gaze bores into yours, making your cunt clutch greedily at his length.

Feeling the knot building quickly in your belly, aided by the way your sensitive pearl brushes against the small patch of hair at the base of Aemond’s cock, you only grow more needy – craving confirmation that he is yours, that no one will be able to take him from you again. Your breath catches in your throat when you recall a conversation the two of you had had a few nights ago, the night of Jace’s death.

The two of you had been cuddled in your bed together, panting in sweat-damp sheets, when he had cupped your cheek and turned your face to his.

“What is it?” You asked, familiar with the faraway look in his eye – God’s knew where he could’ve been in that moment.

“Marry me.”

His whispered demand had knocked the air from your lungs then, the whole world may as well have come to a grinding halt on its axis. “Aemond, we must wait, you know this. I hate it as much as you do but –”

“We need to wait for a Westerosi wedding, yes,” he murmured, leaning over you and shushing you with a soft kiss, “Too soon and it looks suspicious.”

“But –”

“But… a wedding in the tradition of our house need not wait, little one,” the determination in his eye had shocked you then, had warmed you from the inside out, “Our sister and her cunt of a husband hardly waited until Laena and Laenor were cold before they married… we could do the same.”

You had stayed quiet after that, too much death and change and uncertainty clouding your mind to give him an answer, and yet you knew he was right. Rhaenyra and Daemon had married in secret, so soon after Laenor’s sudden passing that it had always seemed a bit odd to you. Yet, no one ever questioned it; your own father had accepted it without so much as a blink, writing the marriage into law with no fuss. Aegon would do the same for you, you felt certain.

Nothing was stopping you, nothing that mattered, anyway.

That thought fuels you now as you rock on Aemond’s lap, both of you barreling toward your eventual ends. Your fingers tighten in his hair, tugging him away from your breast despite his growl of displeasure. Just as he had with you, you cup his cheeks, focusing his attention on you.

“Marry me.”

The rhythm of his hips hitches at your words and he fucks up into you harshly, moving you more desperately against him as another loud, guttural moan echoes through the chamber.

“Tonight,” you continue, brows furrowing as you stare at him, greedily drinking him in, “I cannot wait any longer, brother, tonight, please…”

A vicious, conquering smirk grows on his lips, white teeth gleaming in the low candlelight like a snarling dog. “You wish to be mine, is that it?” He teases, reaching between your two writhing bodies to rub hungrily at your pearl, savoring the pretty breathy moans he earns.

You’re shaking your head before he can even finish speaking as an unrelenting, all consuming possessive ache starts spreading out from your heart, flowing through your blood vessels like fire. “I don’t wish it,” you pant, forehead resting against his while the wildfire burning in your belly threatens to burn you whole, “I told you, I would kill for you and… and, fuck, I swear it. A-Aemond, no one will have you ever again, never, none except me…”

Your words descend into a barely intelligible murmur as you finally let go, pushed suddenly over the edge at the thought of being so tightly bound together that no one would be able to tear the two of you apart again. Your brother growls again at the feel of your cunt pulsing around him, the movements spurring him toward his own end.

He grabs at you when he follows you into oblivion, holding you against him as if you’d disappear otherwise. The feel of his spend spilling into you, filling you, nearly sends you over the edge again and you cling to him just as harshly, holding him while he trembles beneath you.

“You are a vicious little thing,” he says softly after some minutes, holding you against his chest while the two of you catch your breaths.

“I learned from the best.”

He only sighs at that but you don’t need to look at him to know he’s smiling. “I would do it again for you,” he mumbles, eye fixed on Jace, “I would do it a thousand times over.”

He speaks in a reverent whisper, promises of death and destruction as sweet as a prayer on his lips.

Aemond’s hand is warm in yours as he leads you through the winding corridors below the Red Keep, the flickering light from the torches lining the walls making the various statues and reliefs dance in your periphery.

“I’ve always hated that he’s down here, stowed away,” he murmurs, yet his voice still carries some among the stone hallways.

“Mm,” you hum in agreement, glancing into each shadowy alcove you come across while you try to ignore the wild beating in your chest – the way your heart clenches at the thought of finally being so close to what you’ve always wanted. “Yes, he should be out in the sun, somewhere he can be celebrated.”

The old cellars under the Keep have always seemed so haunting to you, so cold and empty. The thought of the walls down here being lined with the ashen remains of generations upon generations of your ancestors had never failed to send a shiver down your spine. Yet, they unfold before you now like paradise; even the still, musty air begins to smell as sweet as honeyed wine.

For the briefest of seconds, guilt joins you – walks alongside you, invisible like the Stranger. A stuttered heartbeat, that’s all and then it’s gone, at the thought that Jace would join them tomorrow, still warm from Vermax’s fire.

How ironic, you think, glancing up at your brother and admiring the way the light gleams on his sapphire eye, That a place that holds so much death would be where our lives finally begin.

“I don’t want to wait any longer,” you’d said again, retying your bodice while Aemond tucked himself back into his trousers and searched for his eyepatch.

“Nor do I,” he agreed, stuffing the small scrap of fabric into a pocket – the streets of King’s Landing would be deserted enough at this time of night that he could get away without wearing it. “Tensions are bound to rise after tomorrow, after everything is said and done; I don’t want to leave anything to chance.”

You had nodded and followed him out of the Sept, through one of the many old, forgotten tunnels that only a scant few knew existed, the list of which definitely didn’t include the guards stationed at the front of the building who had escorted your carriage earlier that evening.

While he had helped you onto the back of his horse, the two of you shared a knowing look, each of you already thinking the same thing.

Turning down one final corridor, your heart thuds in your chest as you’re finally met with Balerion’s petrifying gaze and, just like every other time you’d been in his presence, a little huff of reverence leaves you. Your eyes dance over the rows of his razor sharp teeth, gleaming in the glow of dozens of candles, and you can’t help but imagine the horrors those jaws have inflicted, the pain they wrought while subduing the continent – all in your family’s name.

“Targaryens have always taken what we’ve wanted,” Aemond murmurs beside you, staring up at the gargantuan skull with just as much respect as you are, “Tamed our desires in fields of fire.”

“And rivers of blood,” you turn your heads at the same time, soft smiles on your lips when your eyes meet, like you’re sharing sweet words of love rather than painting pictures of horrors.

Perhaps that is what wrath is for us, you wonder, your eyes flicking between violet and sapphire when you turn toward your brother, What is death if not the sweetest of devotions?

He takes your hands in his, glancing down when your fingers intertwine before looking back up at you; you can feel yourself blushing under his intense gaze, heart squeezing in your chest as he looks at you like that in and of itself is an honor. There’s such softness in his eye, you would think him incapable of violence if you didn’t know better.

“You truly wish for this?” He questions one last time, needing to be sure.

“I’ve told you, I do not wish,” your hands squeeze his, “I need this, Aemond… I would kill for you, for this – for us. Anything, just as you did.”

Your voice trembles when you speak, the intensity of your hushed promises making your head spin because you would. The want you feel, that you have always felt, is not some soft yearning thing. It’s not so simple as some mere whisper uttered in the dead of night at a holy altar while your skin is awash with the glow of candlelight, no.

No, your want is something far more insidious – something deep-seated. An oppressive, clinging thing that has always coaxed you further and further down into that shadowy part of yourself; the part that has always reminded you too much of him.

The demon, lurking in your periphery, that has always begged you to look, has tempted you since childhood with the sweetest of promises, finally rejoices.

Aemond nods, a satisfied smile pulling at the corner of his lips, and you watch as he lets go of one of your hands to unsheath his dagger. The sight of the worn leather handle makes you smile bashfully, though your core clenches all the same, and you gasp when you feel another drop of his seed soak into your smallclothes.

“You know the words?”

Again, he nods and your head cocks to the side curiously when a wash of pink grows on his pale cheeks; he smiles again and fixes you with that same intense stare. “I used to spend hours reading them, over and over, when we were children,” he whispers, leaning closer to you like he’s revealing some deep, dark secret, “I always wanted to get them perfect for you.”

A little peal of laughter echoes through the cellars before you swallow thickly, trying to tamper the tightness at the back of your throat as the backs of your eyes sting, tears pooling in your waterline. He cups your cheek and you smile when he brushes one away, a pleased hum leaves his lips when you nod.

Aemond raises the dagger, glancing between its shining blade and your lips while you ready yourself, one hand clenching at the black silk of your skirts. “I’ll be gentle,” he promises.

You hold stock-still, gasping when he presses the cool edge of it against your lower lip, yet your eyes don’t leave his when he finally cuts – nicking your delicate flesh just enough to draw blood before offering you the dagger. Grasping it, you mirror his steps exactly, just as careful with him.

Setting the dagger to the side, you both reach up at the same time, swiping a thumb over your own lip before reaching out. Your arms intertwine when you brush each other’s foreheads, leaving behind two crimson lines.

His gaze never breaks from yours as he takes the blade again and carefully cuts his palm, holding it out to you again and waiting while you do the same, gasping at the sharp sting. Finally, the two of you join hands, blood mingling together as a few drops of it splatter on the stone floor as Balerion bears witness to your union.

“Hen lantoti ānogar, va syndroti vāedroma, mēro perzot gīhoti, elēdroma iārza sīr,” he recites, murmuring the words with care, making sure to enunciate each syllable, to make the vows unmistakeable to whichever ghosts may be listening, “Izulī ampā perzī, prūmī lanti sēteksi, hen jeny māzīlarion,” (Blood of two, joined as one, ghostly flame, and song of shadows. Two hearts as embers, forged in fourteen fires, a future promised in glass.)

Aemond pauses, taking a breath as he squeezes your hand with his, echoing your smile.

“Qēlossa ozūndesi, syndroro ōñō jēdo, ry kīvia mazvestraksi,” he finishes, all but breathing the last few words as his eye grows misty. (The stars stand witness, the vow spoken through time, of darkness and light.)

The two of you stand still for a moment like you’re waiting for the world to crash down around you and you can feel his heart beating in time with yours as your palms press together, both of you seemingly in shock at finally, finally having everything you’ve ever wanted.

You can’t tell who moves first but suddenly you’re crashing against him, dagger clanging as it hits the floor, while the two of you clutch at one another desperately, uncaring of the blood smearing on your clothes.

Your lips press against his like they’re a lifeline and you moan at the touch, swiping your tongue over his while you grab at the lapels of his jacket. His hands cup your cheeks, staining one with red, before carding through your hair.

“Gods,” he groans, resting his forehead against yours while the two of you pant, breathing out soft laughs. “My little wife…” He says the word slowly, lets it drag over his tongue.

“Husband,” you reply between soft kisses to his cheek, head spinning at how a word that once had to be dragged from you, that had scraped against your skin like thorns, now felt like silk slipping cooly over you.

Your brother growls deep in his chest and his eye flutters shut for a second before his hands are at your waist again and he’s walking you backwards, only a few paces, until you’re pressed against one of the stone columns surrounding the great dragon’s skull. Though your landing is soft, it wrenches a gasp from you all the same but you don’t have time to question his intent before his lips are on yours again.

You moan into the kiss, matching each of his deep groans with one of your own as your tongues tangle together. “Aemond,” you pant when he begins trailing kisses down across your jaw and neck, “What –”

He nips at your cleavage then and you can feel him smirking at the loud whine he pulls from you, soothing the skin after with a sweet kiss before sinking to his knees before you. The sight is enough to make you weak – the man that loves you more than eternity itself, who loves you enough to do terrible, monstrous things, kneeling at your feet and staring up at you like you are his salvation.

Your hands tangle in his soft hair while he pulls at your skirts, pushing them up and out of the way, kissing your thighs as he goes. “You had the chance to worship at your altar, sweetest little wife,” he pants, groaning when he pushes your smallclothes to the side and licking his lips at the sight of your cunt, still wet with your combined spend, “Now let me worship at mine.”

That’s the only warning you get before he dives in, lapping at your center with a loud, satiated growl. Your head thuds back against the column while your eyes are fixed, half-lidded, on Balerion, on the fire that surrounds him.

You understand, then – the curtains of fire that blanketed the continent were necessary to conquer it, just as blood was necessary to bind the two of you. Perhaps one day you’ll be called to answer for that, but even then you would do it a thousand times over; even if the dark, shadowy parts of yourself, of him, lead to the deepest pits of the Seven Hells. You would do it, again and again, for him.

You were always meant to burn together.

thank you for taking the time to read! hope you enjoyed! :)

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welcometomyoasis · 18 hours

Text

🏥 Seventeen Med Series Prologue

Synopsis: After a long business trip, the director of Seventeen Medical Center, Lee Jihoon, finally returns to his home. Seventeen (no reader in this prologue) | doctor au | 2.75k words | warnings: injuries, blood, death Disclaimer: I am not a medical professional. This fic contains incorrect medical information and is supposed to be taken as a work of fiction. Please do not repost the banner, I spent a long time drawing it. A/n: This is the prologue to the Seventeen Med series - you can find the masterpost here. I don’t think i explained it well but the hospital compound is literally shaped like the seventeen logo. But anyway, it’s in the banner! Also, there are some spoilers here! Try and catch it if you can 🤭

“Mr Lee? We’re about to approach the hospital in 5 minutes.”

At the sound of his driver’s voice, Lee Jihoon closed the document he was mulling over. Looking out the window, Jihoon watched the passing scenery. He observed in anticipation as the rows and rows of towering skyscrapers on either side of the road became nothing more than a tiny speck in his peripheral vision.

Finally, after what felt like forever for Jihoon, his driver pulled the car into a familiar side road. Jihoon leaned closer to the window, his eyes twinkled in excitement, and an affectionate smile spread across his driver’s face. Some things never changed. Although Jihoon traveled down this path regularly since he was a child, he always remained awestruck at the large, domineering, triangular shaped hospital compound they were now getting closer to.

The compound consisted of three, interconnected buildings shaped like parallelograms. Each of the buildings lay in different positions along the circumference of the triangle, with there being a gap on the south-west side of the compound where the entrance to the Emergency Department was. In the center of the compound, there was a large, triangular shaped inner courtyard full of seating areas and gorgeous, neatly pruned greenery. Regardless of how spectacular the compound might seem, no one could deny it was certainly in an odd shape for a collection of buildings in the middle of a busy business district. But, it held so much meaning and history for Jihoon’s family. Afterall, when viewed from above, the three buildings and the inner courtyard formed the diamond/ triangular shape for the logo of the Lee family’s hospital - Seventeen Medical Center.

The Seventeen Medical Center had initially been founded by Jihoon’s grandfather. He arrived in the city with nothing but his doctor’s bag, and built this vast compound up from his small basement unit where he practiced medicine. In his later years, he served as the hospital’s chairman, and Jihoon’s father served as the hospital’s director. However, with Jihoon’s grandfather passing away a year ago, Jihoon’s father was promoted to chairman. This meant the responsibility of being the hospital’s director fell onto Jihoon’s lap. Jihoon was hesitant at first. He was a trained cardiologist, what does he know about running a hospital?

Despite his fears, Jihoon grew into the role over the past year, and he made a remarkable number of positive changes to the hospital. For starters, he decided it would be a great idea to hire 11 new medical staff and 1 new medical student, all of whom he knew from his days as a medical student. They were extraordinary individuals, aces in their chosen field, and some of his closest friends. He was sure they would be able to bring the hospital to new heights.

The only thing was, Jihoon had been away for two months on a long business trip. He was a bundle of nerves. While he was excited to be back to where he felt the most comfortable, he was horribly nervous as well. How had the changes he made held up? Would the hospital be running as efficiently as he left it? He had faith in his friends, but to put it bluntly, they could be eccentric and chaotic at times. As his driver pulled the car to a stop at the Emergency Department’s entrance, Jihoon shook his fears away and sucked in a deep breath. His driver glanced into the rear view mirror, giving Jihoon an encouraging nod. Returning his driver’s gesture with an affirming nod of his own, Jihoon pushed open the car door and stepped out.

Jihoon let out a shaky breath, his eyes running over the bolded letters on the sliding doors “Seventeen Med: Emergency Department”. He was the director, he needed to put on a bold face for his staff. Straightening his back, Jihoon stepped into the building, only to be immediately met with loud bickering coming from the nurses station. He raised his brows at the sight.

The Emergency Department’s Nurse in Charge, Kwon Soonyoung, was currently making faces at and bickering with his fellow nurse, Boo Seungkwan. Soonyoung stuck out his tongue at Seungkwan, mimicking Seungkwan’s actions. In turn, Seungkwan stuck his fingers in his ears, his eyes turned upwards as he pranced around Soonyoung going “bleh bleh bleh, I can’t hear you.”

Jihoon chuckled, and exchanged a knowing look with one of the security guards. Right. What was he worried about again? It was business as usual.

Just then, Soonyoung’s PDA beeped. His aloof behaviour changed instantly. He raised a finger to halt Seungkwan’s actions. Soonyoung quickly ran his eyes over the message, leaping over the nurse’s station. He motioned Seungkwan to glove up, yelling, “INCOMING! We have a TA (traffic accident) victim coming in!”

They ran to meet the paramedic team at the entrance. Moments later, they returned wheeling the victim in. Soonyoung led the way, shouting orders, “You’re going to Trauma Two! DINO? GET IN HERE! You’re going to be on this case, and we need a trauma surgeon so DR. CHOI? CHOI SEUNGCHEOL? COUPS GET TO TRAUMA TWO RIGHT NOW!”

Emerging from another treatment room, Seungcheol hurriedly ran over to where the paramedics were wheeling the patient in. Gripping the side of the gurney, he nodded to Dino, a 4th year medical student, indicating that they needed to turn the gurney and back into the room. Taking out his stethoscope, Seungcheol listened to the patient’s heartbeat while listening to the paramedic who was rattling off the patient’s condition.

“Multiple leg fractures, possibly a punctured lung, broken ribs. Major bloodloss, GCS 3, he’s completely unresponsive. We intubated him in the field.”

Finishing his initial assessment, Seungcheol looked up at his team, “Let’s get an x-ray right now. Get two packets of blood, typed and crossed. Dino get in a groin line. Hurry, we need to find where the bleeding is coming from and stop it. Soonyoung? Call ahead and get me an OR. After that he’ll need a CT scan so get someone from Radiology and Neurosurgery here. Oh, and get Ortho in here.”

“Got it. I’ll call Jeonghan, Junhui and Vernon.” Soonyoung affirmed.

Walking back to the nurse’s station, Soonyoung typed away at his PDA. Once he was done, he placed the PDA down to catch his breath. He glanced around the Emergency Department to take note of what needed to be done. Noticing Jihoon observing silently from the side, Soonyoung waved, calling out cheerfully, “WELCOME BACK OUR JIHOONIE!!!”

Jihoon’s chest swelled with pride. As chaotic as his friends could be, they were professionals and managed the Emergency Department like a well oiled machine. Jihoon pointed at the room Seungcheol was in, giving Soonyoung a thumbs up. Soonyoung beamed, preening under Jihoon’s praise. Sure, saving lives was rewarding, but so was getting approval from Jihoon over the way they handled the situation. Jihoon laughed at Soonyoung, and turned to leave.

Walking across the North Wing of the hospital, Jihoon snuck a peak at the hospital’s pharmacy, gift shop and florist, waving to those who recognised him. He liked to make sure everything was running as smoothly as possible on the way to his office.

“JIHOON AH!!”

Jihoon only had a moment to glance at the owner of the voice before having the wind knocked out of him from being whoomped in a huge side hug. Jihoon scowled, “Do you have to do that every time you see me?”

Jeonghan returned Jihoon’s scowl with a cheeky, toothy grin. Jeonghan squeezed Jihoon tighter, rubbing his cheek on Jihoon’s hair, “I can’t help it. You’re our director but you’re also so so cute!”

“Yoon Jeonghan. You’re the hospital’s top neurosurgeon. Shouldn’t you act like it? Maybe you should go get your brain scanned, or maybe I should schedule you for a psychological evaluation with Dokyeom.”

Jeonghan snickered, “Please, we all know that if anyone needs a psychiatrist’s appointment, it’s Dokyeommie himself. Maybe you should schedule one for him with the new psychiatrist in his department.”

“I still think your brain needs to be examined.” Jihoon retorted, thrashing around, trying to break free from Jeonghan’s grasp. Geez, for someone so lanky and tall, Jeonghan was strong as hell.

Nuzzling into Jihoon’s hair a little longer, Jeonghan finally let go, causing Jihoon to gasp for breath. Jeonghan skipped off before Jihoon could wring his neck. He giggled, “Welp, I have to go now. Something about a TA patient in the ED. See you Jihoonie!!”

Jihoon shook his head. It was exasperating to deal with Jeonghan sometimes, but the man was arguably one of the country’s top neurosurgeons. Many influential people from all over the world flew over just to have Jeonghan operate on them. Indeed, hiring Jeonghan was possibly one of the best decisions Jihoon ever made. Although Jeonghan did insist on getting a private office with a gorgeous view, a queen sized bed, coffee machine, ramen maker, and TV for said office, it was worth it. With the surgeries Jeonghan did, the hospital’s revenue skyrocketed.

Of course, Jeonghan wasn’t the only one who made the hospital more reputable than ever. Seungcheol, Soonyoung, Seungkwan, and Dino kept the Emergency Department running efficiently which made the Seventeen Medical Center ranked as one of the top hospitals in the city. Vernon, their lovable, eccentric, resident food vacuum critic, was also one of the best Orthopedic Surgeons around. He used to jet all around the world treating athletes and modern day royalty. The revenue he collected helped him to afford to do as many pro bono surgeries as he wanted on those who couldn’t afford it. His charity work proved to be a great PR tool for the hospital.

Then, there was Dokyeom who was a remarkable psychiatrist. He always managed to build an amazing rapport with his patients, and he somehow was always able to treat them using both orthodox and more experimental ways. Jihoon chuckled, Jeonghan was right. It did feel like sometimes Dokyeom needed to get his own brain examined. There were several occasions where Dokyeom ran around the psych ward hollering at the top of his lungs while beating a hand held drum for the sake of helping his patients blow off steam. As long as it wasn’t anything unethical, Jihoon let Dokyeom be.

As Jihoon wandered around the hospital, his mind was far away musing over his brilliant decision to hire his friends. Finally looking up, Jihoon found himself near the hospital’s pediatric wards. He remembered all the time he spent here. It was always bittersweet. These patients were all so young, so full of potential, and yet some of them would never grow up to fulfill that. Sighing, Jihoon walked into the ward, reminiscing over all the patients he treated, healed, and lost.

Hearing boisterous laughter coming from one of the wards, Jihoon peaked his head in. He was unable to stop himself grinning at the sight. Joshua and Junhui were making their ward rounds together. Dr. Joshua Hong, the hospital’s gentleman and pediatric surgeon, was crouched over, smiling tenderly at a little girl while checking her surgery wound. Meanwhile, Junhui, the hospital’s radiologist, was telling the little girl a story about how a hero with X-ray vision was going to check on her wound and make sure she was all okay to go home. Between Joshua’s gentility and Junhui’s natural quirkiness and affinity for children, they made a formidable duo. Their bedside manner for children was unmatched. Treating children came naturally for them. Jihoon snickered, perhaps it was due to them being huge kidults themselves. Still, a feeling of warmth spread through Jihoon’s chest. So long as Joshua and Junhui were together, those children would all be fine.

With that, Jihoon slipped away before his presence disturbed their young patients (or rather before he got bogged down dealing with Joshua who was also Jeonghan’s evil twin, and Junhui who was a weird little alien from outer space). Jihoon glanced at his watch, gasping. He arrived at the hospital at 8.30 am and had just spent an hour wandering around. He needed to prepare for his meeting at 10am. If he didn’t get to the office soon, Minghao, the hospital’s head of patient services, would have his head.

Jihoon scurried off to his office, tapping his foot impatiently on the floor of the elevator. When the doors opened, he grabbed a coffee from the pantry and tried to hurry to his office. But alas, he was interrupted by someone incessantly tapping on their glass office window. Even without looking, Jihoon knew who it was. Jihoon turned around slowly, grinning sheepishly at a very annoyed Minghao who was giving him a disapproving stare. Jihoon gave Minghao an awkward wave before literally booking it to his office. Slamming the door shut, Jihoon heaved a huge sigh of relief. He was safe from Minghao for now, though he was sure the younger one would give him a huge lecture about punctuality later.

Jihoon placed his coffee down, and took off his coat. Letting his eyes roam around his pristine office, he felt a wave of comfort wash over him. He was finally back after two, painful months of living out of his suitcase and working out of unfamiliar offices and hotel rooms. Jihoon sauntered to the blinds shielding him from the light coming in from his floor to ceiling windows. Unrolling the blinds, Jihoon squinted at the sudden glare from the sun.

As his eyes adjusted, Jihoon looked down at the view in the inner courtyard from his office. Amid all the unfamiliar faces of patients and visitors, Jihoon could vaguely make out Wonwoo and Mingyu’s figures at one of the benches eating ramen. It was always endearing to see how Wonwoo and Mingyu always stayed best friends through the years despite their fields being so different. Wonwoo was a pathologist at the hospital while Mingyu was a physiotherapist. Their paths rarely crossed when they were working, but they always made time to meet up in between shifts and when they weren’t working for a meal.

Actually, the same could be said for all his friends. Thinking back to all his friends he hired, Seungcheol, Jeonghan, Joshua, Junhui, Soonyoung, Wonwoo, Dokyeom, Mingyu, Minghao, Seungkwan, Vernon, and Dino, Jihoon was overcome with an inexplicable wave of nostalgia and fondness. Bringing his friends to work with him in the hospital, it was one of the best decisions he ever made. Sure, they helped make the hospital a better place, but more importantly, they were finally all together in the same place again. Although they couldn’t always work together, they loved each other dearly, and always made time for each other.

The Seventeen Medical Center already meant so much to Jihoon since it was part of his family and his childhood. But somehow, bringing his friends in made him develop a new fondness and love for the hospital. A warm, fuzzy feeling enveloped Jihoon. He gazed down fondly at the courtyard and the rest of the hospital compound. The sun’s rays shone into the courtyard, reflecting off the hospital buildings’ windows, giving the whole area an ethereal warm, golden glow. Jihoon closed his eyes, basking in the warmth of the sun. And in that moment, he just knew. The warmth he felt, it didn’t just come from the sun. It came from him just being there, in his office, overlooking the hospital he loved so dearly, surrounded by people he cared about deeply. His patients, who he swore his staff would nurse back to health, his staff members, who worked incredibly hard, and his friends, who Jihoon also saw as his family. With everyone there, Jihoon felt like a missing piece of a puzzle in the hospital was finally filled.

In that moment of warmth and enlightenment, Jihoon slowly opened his eyes, a loving smile spreading across his face. This place. It wasn’t just a place he spent his childhood, a place for healing, a place of work for him, nor a place which was part of his family’s legacy. No. This place, this hospital, it was so much more. It was Jihoon’s home… Seventeen Medical Center was home. And Jihoon couldn’t wait to see what would happen in the future.

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doumadono · 2 days

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Hi baby!! Mwaaah! I have an emergency request if it’s okay? Can you have either Bakugou or Touya (maybe him as just Touya or maybe Dabi? You can decide) where the reader is having such bad flashbacks of their abusive relationship before them that they can’t get out of bed and every little thing set them off in a way they starts to get worse with them flashbacks?

Touya & Bakugo with gn!Reader who deals with flashbacks of past relationship

A/N: I hope you'll enjoy these two short stories 💋

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST - PART 2

Touya

Touya sat by the edge of the bed, his pale fingers tracing absentminded patterns on the sheets. His partner, Y/N, lay beside him, their body curled into a tight ball under the covers.

It had been a rough night. The nightmares that haunted them were growing worse, and Touya could do little more than hold them as they trembled and cried in their sleep.

Now, as they lay still, Touya watched over them with a heavy heart. ”Y/N," he murmured softly, brushing a strand of hair away from their face. "It's morning. You should try to get up."

Their eyes fluttered open, but the vacant, haunted look in them made it clear they were still trapped in the grip of their past.

Touya’s heart clenched at the sight. He had seen that look before – in his own reflection, back when his life was consumed by pure pain and hatred.

"I can't," they whispered, their voice barely audible. "Every time I close my eyes, I see him. I feel his hands on me... I can't escape it. I can’t believe I spent so much time in such an abusive relationship… I should have tried to escape but I felt weak."

Touya’s jaw tightened. He understood the feeling all too well, the relentless grip of trauma that refused to let go. Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to their forehead. "You're not there anymore, Y/N. You're here, with me. And I won’t let anyone hurt you again."

They shook their head, tears welling up in their eyes. "It's not that simple. Everything reminds me of him. The sound of the door, the creak of the floorboards... even the way the light filters in reminds me of being trapped in his flat."

Touya’s eyes darkened with anger – not at them, but at the monster who had done this to them. "We’ll make new memories to replace the old ones. If you still feel trapped, maybe you should consider moving to another town, to leave the past behind?”

They looked up at him, hope flickering briefly in their eyes before being extinguished by fear. "What if it doesn’t work? What if I’m broken forever? And I distinctly remember you saying that “the past never dies”, Touya.”

Touya's breath caught at the mention of his own words, thrown back at him like a painful echo. He closed his eyes for a moment, steeling himself against the rush of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. When he opened them again, his gaze was steady, intense. "I did say that," he admitted, his voice a low, steady rumble. "The past never dies. It’s a part of us, a shadow that follows wherever we go. But that doesn’t mean it defines us." He leaned closer, his forehead pressing gently against theirs. "I know you feel broken. Hell, I’ve felt that way for years. But look at me, Y/N. I'm still here. Still fighting. Because even though the past never dies, it doesn’t mean it wins. We get to decide who we become, every single day."

His fingers traced gentle patterns on their arm, a calming, grounding touch. "I’m not saying it’s going to be easy. It’s not. There will be days when it feels like the shadows are winning. But you’re not alone in this. We’ll face those shadows together." He paused, searching their eyes for any sign of understanding. "You’ve already survived so much, babe. You’re stronger than you think. And if the past tries to drag you down, I’ll be here to pull you back up. Every single fucking time."

Touya cupped their face in his hands, his touch gentle despite the callouses. "You’re not broken, Y/N. You’re healing. And healing takes time. Allow yourself to heal.”

They stayed like that for a while, the silence between them filled with unspoken words of comfort and solidarity. Slowly, they began to uncurl, their breathing evening out as they leaned into Touya’s embrace. "Okay," they whispered finally. "I trust you. Thank you for being here for me, Touya.”

Touya smiled, a rare, genuine smile that was reserved only for them. "Always."

Bakugou

Katsuki Bakugou was not a man known for his patience. His explosive temper and brash demeanor were infamous, but when it came to Y/N, he was willing to wait. Wait for them to feel safe, to heal, to trust.

Today, however, his patience was being tested to its limits.

He stood at the door of their bedroom, hands clenched into fists at his sides. Y/N lay in bed, their body trembling under the blankets. It had been a bad night, and the morning wasn't proving to be any better.

"Y/N," Bakugou called softly, trying to keep his voice gentle despite his frustration. "You need to get up. You haven't eaten anything for nearly two days."

They didn't respond, their eyes fixed on a spot on the wall as if it held the answers to their torment.

Bakugou took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. Losing his temper wouldn't help them at all.

He walked over to the bed, sitting down beside them. "Hey," he said more softly, reaching out to touch their shoulder. "Talk to me."

They flinched at his touch, a reaction that sent a pang of hurt through Bakugou’s chest. He pulled his hand back, clenching it into a fist to keep from lashing out. Not at them, of course, never at them – but at the memory of the person who had hurt them.

"It’s him," they whispered, their voice shaking, "I can’t get him out of my head. Every sound, every shadow… it’s like he’s still here, watching me."

Bakugou’s eyes flashed with anger, his mind filling with violent thoughts about the man who had done this to the person he loved the most. But he knew that wouldn’t help right now. What they needed was reassurance, not rage.

"He’s not here," Bakugou said firmly. "He’ll never hurt you again. I swear on my life, Y/N. You’re safe with me."

They turned their head to look at him, tears streaming down their face. "But I don’t feel safe! Can’t you understand that?! Everything reminds me of him. The way the door creaks, the shadows on the wall... I can’t escape it! I know I’m no longer in his hands, but goddammit, I feel like he still owns a part of my soul!”

Bakugou’s heart ached at their words. He wished he could take away their pain, fight off their demons like he did with villains. But this was a battle that couldn’t be won with fists and explosions. He took a deep breath. "Then we’ll change it," he said finally, determination in his voice. "We’ll get rid of the shadows, do whatever it takes to make you feel safe. We’ll make this place your little haven, does it sound okay?”

They looked at him with a mixture of hope and doubt. "What if it doesn’t work? What if I’m always scared?"

Bakugou leaned in, pressing his forehead against theirs while rubbing their shoulders. "Then I’ll be here, every step of the way. I won’t let you face this alone. We’ll fight it together.”

They took a shaky breath, their body slowly relaxing against his. "Okay," they whispered. "Together."

Bakugou nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Together."

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1starqi · 2 days

Text

Quiet Nights

genre: fluff, established relationship

warnings: barely proofread, pet names, manhandling

pairing: mark x sleepy!reader

word count: 635

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

▸ Now Playing: Puzzle Piece (listen for best reading experience! ☺)

The quiet click of the door echoes through the first front room of your apartment. You’ve been passed out for an hour on the heathered couch, waiting for your boyfriend to return from the studio. He sets his gray backpack down on the hardwood floor by the door. His stuffed monkey keychain jingles as he sets it down, the same stuffed monkey that you bought for him on your first anniversary.

He sees your sleeping form and his heart swells with how cute you look all cuddled up on the couch, but his elation turns into bittersweet feelings when he realizes you were probably waiting for him to come home and do your nighttime routine together. He slowly and carefully closes the door behind him and slowly walks over to you, still soundly asleep.

“Oh, baby,” He mumbles, “I’m sorry that I stayed so late. You should’ve gone to bed.” He tells you. He considers letting you sleep, but as AC turns on he decides how to make it up to you since it can’t be so comfortable sleeping on the segmented couch. He removes your blanket and pushes an arm under your back and one under your legs to pick you up. As he hoists you up in his arms, he makes a quiet oomph sound, even though he picks you up with ease. He’s mindful not to wake you as he passes all of the fixtures that remind him of the memories you’ve made in this house together. As he passes one of the outlets, he’s reminded of the time you were in a rush to get out of the house, and as you put your earring on you dropped the other and it fried the outlet and he let out a small, breathy laugh as he thinks about the memory. When he sees the door to the bathroom he thinks about all the early mornings and late nights you spent doing your routine, brushing your teeth in the exact same pattern (it’s a habit you picked up from each other).

“Mark?” You mumble you’ve woken up, clearly. Whether it was the walk or the laugh that made you wake up, you don’t know.

“Shh, baby. I’m just getting you to bed. Don’t worry.” He consoles you, afraid that you’d be scared when you’re going somewhere without moving. In his arms, you enter your room and he places you down on the bed. He switches off the overhead light and flicks on the pink salt lamp nestled in the corner.

“What happened?” You ask groggily. You sit up sleepily and see him darting around the room, cleaning things up and getting things situated to go to bed.

“You fell asleep on the couch, love.” He explains.

You see him heading to leave the room. “Where are you going?” Still groggy.

“Lay back down, I’m just going to brush my teeth and I’ll come cuddle with you.” Satisfied, you lay back down. You hear the click of the light switch and the whoosh of the water as he wets his toothbrush. You’re counting the second until his warm body comes back so that you can give him a sleepy kiss and then fall back to blissful slumber. You hear his footsteps coming back into your room and you see his dimly lit shape in the doorframe. Back in the bed, you snuggle closer to you and you push your face into the curve of his neck. His familiar smell comforts you, still not awake and not wishing to be.

“‘Love you…” You murmur to him, at a barely audible level.

He responds with what you always expect, but never get bored of: “I love you too, baby.” The pet name makes your heart flutter.

#mark #mark lee #mark fluff #mark lee fluff #mark lee x you #mark lee x reader #nct #nct fluff #qiqi writes #mark oneshot #mark lee oneshot #nct oneshot #fluff fluff fluff

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selfloverrrrrr · 2 days

Note

Can you do Sukuna? I want to request him having a favorite maid who gets special privileges, but she has to fuck him in order for those privileges to remain special. For example, she gets better pay than the other maids who work for him. And then he falls in love with her later, making her his wife.

The Bonding

Warning: smut, heavy smut, unprotected sex, teasing, nipple play, edging....

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Masterlist

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

Sukuna was a wealthy and powerful man from heian era. He's well known for his cruel and calculating nature. He employed many maids to tend to his large estate, but there was one in particular who held a special place. I received special privileges, such as better pay and more comfortable living conditions, but these privileges came at a price.

In order to keep my special status, I was required to submit to Sukuna's sexual desires. He would often summon me to his chambers late at night, demanding me to service him in any way he wants. At first, I was repulsed by the idea of sleeping with him, but over time I grew to accept it as a necessary evil. I told myself that as long as I continue to please Sukuna, I would be able to keep my privileged position.

As the months passed, however, something unexpected happened. Sukuna began to develop genuine feelings for me. He found himself thinking about me all the time, and he grew to cherish the time they spent together. He even started to treat me with kindness and respect, rather than just as a sexual object.

One day, Sukuna decided to make his feelings known. He called me to his private room. I thought it was just like the other days. But when we were alone he took my hand and looked deep into my eyes, telling me how much he loved and valued me. I was shocked by the sudden declaration. but I loved him too. I never told it to anyone but I do love him too much. I couldn't deny the feelings that had been growing inside me as well. I told Sukuna that she loved him too.

He sits on the bed and I was sitting on his lap. We broke the kiss. Sukuna looked at me "should I?" He asked. "Please" I whispered. He pushed me on the bed and climbed over me. I was laying on the bed and Sukuna was laying on me. He looked at me and asked " do you want it?". "Yes..." I whispered. He smirked " Say it clearly please ". "Yes... yes please" I said. "Please what?" He asked still with that smirk on his face. " Please fuck me already..... I want you to fuck me.... please" I begged him and he gave me back a smirk and took off my top and bra. He looked at me and started sucking my boobs, squeezing it, playing with it as he want. I was a moaning mess. I took off his shirt. He got up and unbuckled his pant and underwear. His huge dick sprang out. I was starting at it without even noticing. My lust was increasing just seeing it. He smirked at me. He took off my bottoms and once again lay on top of me. He kissed me roughly. He lined himself with my entrance. Then smirk at me and pushed his whole length slowly. I scremed when it was fully inside. " it's okey... it's fine." He said and kissed my forehead. He started thursting in and out.

I was moaning his name. He was giving me pleasure. The pleasure I was hunting from months. His thurst became harder and harder. Faster and faster. One of his hand reached for my clit. Rubbing it. My legs were shaking. I was screaming, moaning with pleasure. In moment I came. Finally. Finally got my satisfaction. With a few more thursts he came inside me. He threw himself beside me.

From that day on, Sukuna and me were inseparable. We spent our days exploring the estate and our nights making love in Sukuna's luxurious bed. We would often engage in dirty talk and playful spanking, driving each other wild with desire.

As husband and wife, Sukuna and me were happier than we had ever been. We had found true love in each other's arms, and we knew that nothing would ever tear us apart. And as we lay in each other's arms, we knew that we would never again have to worry about the special privileges that I had once fought so hard to keep. We had become a true couple, and we would face the challenges of our lives together, hand in hand.

Give me your requests guys...

I love when you give me your requests 💕

#jjk #jjk smut #smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #tw noncon #fem reader #sukuna x you #sukuna smut #jjk sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jjk ryomen #sukuna ryomen smut #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #ryomen x reader #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere

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onsomenewsht · 8 hours

Text

from the vault:

won't ask you to stay / but let me ask you one thing

》 Out of Love, Alessia Cara

》 Leah Williamson x Reader

》 fall out of love [idiom]: to no longer feel romantic love for someone

When Leah comes into your life, you don’t even notice at first. Her steps are light and her presence is comforting, never out of place or out of time.

It ends like it starts.

It starts with a jacket forgotten one late night, the summer air and your joined hands shielding her from the cold enough to leave it in your living room. You notice the piece of clothing the next morning, claiming it as your own.

It continues with vinyl records piling up in your library, some brought from her own apartment and others added just for you to listen to as you live around each other. You notice it after months, getting rid of some neglected plants to make more room for the growing collection.

It ends with her toothbrush next to yours, left behind after weeks of her not even coming to sleep at home anymore. You noticed it this morning, starting to gather her things for her to pick up.

It ends just like it starts, with light steps and a comforting absence.

“I think it’s all”

Leah emerges from the bedroom with a box full of what you assume are the last of her clothes.

Not even caring about what the blonde is putting in there, you leave her doing whatever she is here to do.

You already hid her jacket and she already has your heart, it’s not like she can take much more from you.

The truth is you wish to be anywhere else, not really in the right state of mind to watch the love of your life make disappear any sign this was once a shared heaven.

Your apartment turned into a crime scene and she’s getting rid of the evidence.

“Did you get the boots from outside?”

“Oh”, the English girl almost drops the box to turn as fast as she can.

You make no move to help her, so she has to open the door window without her hands.

She reappears after a minute, out of breath, “So, I–”

“The book on your bedside table?”

Leah looks embarrassed to have to go back into the bedroom, debating whether she should pretend to have already taken it.

The walk of shame is short and bittersweet, the box still secured in her arms.

You wish she’d hold you instead, her embrace always able to grant you and make you feel like a person can actually be the safest place on earth. The longing to ask her for a hug is too much to bear, you rise from the sofa to hide in the kitchen.

Busing yourself with the excuse of a coffee, you realise you’re crying when a couple of big tears mark the sleeve of your shirt – too used to a silent plea.

The athlete makes her way around you on tiptoes, like approaching a wounded and scared animal. The distance between the two of you is palpable, the box makes it physically evident too. It’s getting ridiculous.

“Can you put that shit down?”

“I– I’m not sure where”

Looking at Leah for the first time in weeks makes you immediately remember why you’ve been adamant about not finding yourself in her proximity.

She doesn’t seem as sleep deprived as you sure are, or drained of life as you feel. She’s hurt, you know.

You have not spent a stupid amount of time admiring her features to not know how she shows her feelings or tracing each new crease to not know what which ones mean. You know she’s hurt, but you know she’s hurt for you.

“Can I ask you one thing?”, you finally ask.

“I don’t think–”

“I’m not gonna ask you to stay”

She almost exhales in relief and you almost die right there.

“When did you fall out of love with me?”

#woso x reader #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #from the vault

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impala-dreamer · 2 days

Text

Meet Me At The Beach

A Supernatural Story

~ Texting and emails can feel so impersonal. There's nothing quite like exchanging tangible, handwritten letters with someone you love...~

Dean Winchester x F!Reader, Sam Winchester

4,025 Words

Warnings: Bittersweet Angst. SFW.

A/N: This is for @jacklesversebingo "Writing Letters To Each Other" was the prompt. I hope you enjoy...

June 2

Dear Dean,

This feels so weird. Do people really write letters anymore? Am I going to get strange looks at the post office when I go to buy a stamp? Will they even know what to do with this tiny envelope and folded piece of loose-leaf paper? I almost don’t know how to write anymore. My script looks kinda like chicken scratch, huh? Hopefully it’ll get better. It is weird not typing though. But emails just seem like work. Impersonal, ya know? Besides, it gives us something to look forward to when we hit the mailbox. Nice to open something that’s not a delinquent credit card bill, huh?

Speaking of which- how the fuck do you do it? I just got another card canceled. My credit is non-existent. Fuck, I need to get a job. Could you imagine me in an office? High heels and panty hose and my hair tucked into a neat, matronly bun? I shudder to think!

OK, this is weird. I just wanted to write “LOL” but it’s not an email. Or a text. Why are we doing this again? Oh, yeah, see above.

Anyhoo- - - - I don’t even know what to say! Umm… I’m in New Orleans for a bit. Not working, just hanging out. My friend Emily from high school tracked me down online and we’ve been chatty. She’s in a band. They’re not bad. Not great, but not bad. So yeah, I took a drive down to see a show and I’m just lingering. Drinking too much, sleeping past noon. It’s fun. Nice little vacation.

Which - ahem - you should be taking. When are you gonna get your ass out of that dusty old bunker and stick your toes in the sand? I already told you I’d meet you in Pensacola with sunscreen and a cooler of beer. You know you want to. Or are you just scared to show off your ugly toes in flip flops? Your boots might actually cry if you ever took them off, so I guess it’s just as well.

Hey, do you remember that night in Richmond when it started pouring and your boots sank into the mud puddle? God, that was a mess. We were soaked to the bone. Nice way to warm up, though - cuddled in the back of the Impala. I miss that car. Sometimes, I think I can hear it at night when the world is quiet and the wind is still. It’s like the engine roars in the back of my mind and I start thinking about all our adventures, all the time we spent driving into the sunset.

I miss you. Is that wrong? I probably shouldn’t. Or at least, I shouldn’t tell you that I do. But I do. I miss you so bad sometimes that it hurts. Like someone has punched me right in the chest. Maybe we can end up in the same town soon. Grab some tacos and sit on the hood. Make a mess. I’d like that.

OK, before I get too emotional and start asking you to run away with me, I think I’ll end this ranting scribble of horrid handwriting.

Write me back soon.

Love, Y/N

June 21

Y/N-

Your handwriting does not look like chicken scratch. I like it. Mine is like some toddler just learning his letters. Whatever. I never learned that fancy shit. I can sign my name and make a grocery list. That’s all I need.

This is weird, yeah. But it’s kinda nice. Feels more… like you’re here. Does that make sense? Like seeing your handwriting, the dents in the paper- I don’t know. Just feels more real. Like you’re not just some computer talking back at me. Also there’s something strange about answering questions weeks later. I meant to write this sooner, but I got a little distracted. There was a Kung Fu marathon on and I just lost track of time. Too much pizza, not enough Carradine. Ya know? You know.

Remember that horrible motel in Raleigh when we both caught that nasty stomach bug and stayed up all night watching old tv shows? Saltines and Little House. I’ll never forget it. You were so sick that day. Shit, I was sure I was gonna end up taking you to the hospital. Sure, I was puking too, but you looked like death. I hated that. Hated that I couldn’t help you, make you feel better. I did cook up a mean chicken noodle soup though, didn’t I? Not that it stayed down for long.

Thank god for that yellow Gatorade. And yes- it’s fucking yellow. Not green.

Anyway- I miss you too. I try not to, I really do. Not all the time, no offense, but sometimes I’m just fucking insane with shit going on. But at night, especially, I miss having you beside me. I miss rolling over and seeing you there, or hearing you snore. I miss feeling your freezing feet under the blanket. I don’t know, I just-

What can I say? I’m sorry. I’m an asshole. I’m the biggest piece of shit in the universe. I shouldn’t have pushed you away.

Can’t change the past. Just gotta move on.

Maybe someday you’ll forgive me. I hope so anyway.

I’m sorry. I shouldn’t dump that all out in a letter. I almost ripped this all up and started over. I actually let it sit for a day before I came back to it. But, fuck it- we said we were gonna write to each other and be honest, and here I am, being honest.

Fuck, I’m so tired. That kinda tired when sleeping for ten days wouldn’t even put a dent in it. Yeah, OK, so things are getting a little better. Chuck’s gone for good this time. Jack’s got things back in place, even made a few improvements. Sam’s- well, he’s Sam. He’s fine, doing his thing. The dog is- did I tell you we have a dog now? Yeah, I know. Me and a dog- yeah right. But we do. Miracle. He’s a good boy. I’ll send you a picture soon.

Never thought I could slow down like this. Feels like for the first time we can just - work. I mean, I’m never gonna give up hunting, not totally, but- feels like I could just ease back a bit. Been looking at some jobs in town- nothing crazy, fixing engines and stuff like that. Don’t know if you remember, but I’m pretty good with my hands.

Did you blush?

You did.

OK. I guess- that’s it for now. I have no fucking idea how to end this so - bye?

~ Dean

P.S. I’ll meet you at the beach soon. I promise.

Fifteenth of July

To Whom It May Concern:

Re: Beach Vacation

Dear Mr. Winchester,

I am very pleased to hear that you are agreeable to meeting me at the beach. It should be delightful fun to run through the surf and hunt for sea glass with you.

Oh shit! Do you remember that new age shop in… where the fuck was that? With the sea glass necklaces in the window that I said were so pretty and the witch inside said they were blessed to give the wearer riches or some shit like that. Where was that? Who knows.

Feels like we’ve been all over the world together. Well, this country at least. Lord knows I could never get you on an airplane. If only you could drive to Paris. Did I ever tell you about my trip to France? God, it was beautiful. Rained the whole time, but it was this beautiful, warm spring rain that made everything smell like dust and petals. Not rose petals, but those little white ones that grow on trees, ya know? It was so beautiful. Fuck it. I’m taking you one day. You need to see more than the dash of your car and the backroads of America. Time to travel!

Speaking of- I’m glad you’re slowing down a bit. I know that won’t be easy for you but if you think about it, you’ve spent the last forty years running from problem to problem like a damned bomb-sniffing dog.

A DOG?! Dean Winchester, I never thought the day would come. I can’t wait to see a picture. Don’t forget it next time.

I think you’d be a great mechanic. It was always very hot seeing you covered in sweat and grease especially if you had those damned coveralls on. I mean… what? I don’t think about you like that anymore, you know. It’s over and done with and we’re just friends. We are friends, aren’t we? Maybe something more than friends, I guess. Ex lovers? Ew. I hate that word. Lovers. So gross. Well, then what are we? Just two souls swimming in a fish bowl…

Year after year. Day after day. Do you know that I put nearly a hundred thousand miles on my poor truck this year? Back and forth, up and down the country. I don’t have to tell you how exhausting it is. Fun, but exhausting. Rewarding, but not. I wonder how many people remember me after I leave? Does that family in New Haven think about me whenever they go into the basement and it’s no longer haunted? Is there a photo of me on a fridge in Wilmington where I saved that guy’s fiance from the vamp nest? Probably not. I’m sure people remember you - The Great Dean Winchester. The sexy hunter with the green eyes and the giant black car. You’re hard to forget. Also, you hang out with a giant. Tell Sam I said hi.

I do remember that puke fest! And it’s green. It’s literally neon green. Fight me.

We could probably write a book, you and me. ‘Winchester & Y/L/N Do America’. It’s a coffee table book with pictures of random diner signs and gas station bathrooms. Maybe a list of the country’s best french fry places. Shit like that. Let’s do it. I’ll call my literary agent in the morning. Ha!

SPARTA!! That’s where that damned sea glass shop was. It just hit me! Stupid brain. I swear, I’ve been hit in the head way too many times. Broken too many bones. I’m getting too old for this shit. Did you know that my left knee pops whenever I stand up now? Like, how old am I?? I can’t stand it. I need a month at a spa somewhere in the desert. That’d be nice.

Damnit. I just got a call from Vinnie Alverez. Do you know him? Hunter out of Pittsburg. Anyway- he needs help on a job. Guess I’ll cut this letter short. Hopefully I’ll find a box to drop this in on the way to PA!

Miss you.

Sincerely yours,

Y/N

P.S. - I do forgive you, Dean. Of course I do. Things were just too hard back then. Life didn’t want to cooperate for us. It’s not your fault. Not my fault. It just was. Please don’t carry that guilt in your heart. You deserve better than that.

August 2

Dear Y/N-

You’re a real character, you know that? Love the corporate letter. I’m in for the book by the way. Could be awesome. We do need a full chapter on onion rings though. Make a note.

I heard about your hunt in Pittsburgh. Came through the grapevine that you kicked some serious wolf ass. Nice job, kid. Hope you’re being careful. I know how bullheaded and impulsive you can get when you’re in the zone. Just watch your back, OK? Promise me. Last thing I wanna hear is that you got your heart clawed out or you’re walking around with a demon in your ass.

Demons. Haven’t seen so many running around lately. Queen Rowena’s been keeping them in check. So fucking weird that she’s in charge now. Not that I’m surprised- she’s a badass bitch. If I had a nickel for every ruler of hell I was friends with, I’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice. The kids still say that, don’t they? See, I’m not old. I keep up with pop culture and shit. Started watching the tik toks. I still don’t get it, but I like the woodturning stuff. Thinking about taking up whittling. Maybe carve you a keychain so you stop losing them.

I got a call for a job interview. Chickened out though. I don’t know if I’m ready to start all that, ya know? Start a real life in the real world- just seems- I don’t know, scary. Yeah, I’ve faced every deadly thing on this and other worlds but the idea of getting a 9 to 5 civilian job scares me. I’m some kinda fucked up, huh?

I think about it a lot though. Getting a job, finding a little house somewhere, settling down. A little fenced in yard so Miracle can run around and dig up dirt. Might put a rocking chair on the porch and watch the clouds, some shit like that. Would you come visit me in my Barbie dream house? I’ll cook you breakfast every morning and you can rub my feet at night. Real cozy couple stuff.

OK, so maybe I’m thinking about you more and more these days. Maybe I’m regretting leaving. Maybe I’m just an idiot daydreaming about meeting you somewhere in the middle and sweeping you off your feet. One of those running hugs that hurts when you collide but ends in a kiss that makes everything feel better. I’m a real romantic fuck, huh? I was digging through my drawers yesterday and I found a pair of your socks. Those tiny ones that barely covered your ankle. I don’t know why they were stuffed in the back of the dresser, but there they were. Dingy white socks with the pink threads on the toes. I’ll bring them to the beach when we meet up.

Oh, Sam says hi and he hopes you’re good and he wants you to shoot him a text when you can. You can do what you want, but you better not mail him a letter. That’s just for me. God, my hand is cramping up. I’m not used to this. Oh, and you’re not alone. My knee creaks like a haunted house when I go up stairs now. And my right wrist pops, and my neck makes this weird almost squeaking sound, and my ass- well, I could go on, but just know you’re not alone. Kinda weird to think that we lived long enough to be this old, ain’t it? I never thought I’d live to be thirty and here I am staring down 42. Forty Fucking Two. Can you believe that shit? Goddamnit I got old. Let’s go find a nursing home together. Maybe we can get a double room- or a king sized bed?

Think about it. We could be cranky old people together. Losing our memories and shuffling around with walkers and shit. You’d look cute with white hair. And fuck, my beard’s already going gray. Should I grow out my beard?

Write back soon. I really like seeing your letters in the box.

Dean x

My dearest Dean Winchester, it is with great happiness that I write this letter to you and I do hope that it finds you well and happy and all good things and I can’t keep this formal shit up. Ha!

Anyway- but yeah, things are good. I know it’s been a while since I’ve written, but I was on a little trip around the continent. Headed up to Montreal for a bit. Killed some nasties, salted some bones, generally fucked around. My beloved truck crapped out in Burlington, Vermont, so I had to hang out there for a while and gather my resources to get a new vehicle. I think you’d like her. Green Ford Explorer from ‘94. OK, she’s not as sexy as the Impala, but she gets me where I need to go. Which, apparently, was Maine! I met up with some friends in Greenville. Cute little town full of witchcraft. So much fun. Also had a lobster roll on a pier… I swear to god, they plucked this thing right out of the water and slapped it on a buttered roll. You’d LOVE it. I’m gonna take you there someday.

Speaking of- We need to make plans for Florida. I picked up a little bikini on my travels and I think I really need to show it off. Maybe you could be my bodyguard and keep the creeps away while I’m sunbathing? To repay you for your services, I’ll gladly let you take it off me at night…

Oh, and I’ve thought about this extensively, and I believe that you should, in fact, grow your beard out. Like, full on, bushy lumberjack beard. I can’t wait to see all that gray. You know I have a thing for older men… and you’ll always be older than me, Dean Winchester and don’t you forget it!

And for your information, I don’t lose my keys anymore! I got one of those… apple taggy things. Now I know where they are at all times. Can’t find my phone to find them sometimes, but that’s another issue.

Two weeks later, I’m picking up my pen again. Sorry this is taking forever. Things are stupid busy. I wish I could just… put this fucking gun down and go live with you on a farm somewhere. Not a working farm, we wouldn’t keep pigs or anything because gross, but a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. Big white house with a giant tree in the yard and a tire swing and a picket fence and a kid chasing the dog around and -

Shit. Do you ever think about it? I do. A lot. More than I’d like to and it fucking cuts me up inside every time. I know we could never have kept it, and life- I mean- it just wasn’t meant to be. But I do think about it sometimes. Imagine if we’d just walked away from the life and tried to be a family? Impossible, I know. Maybe in another life.

Shit, I’m sorry. Fuck. Ignore me. I haven’t slept in a while and I just

I want to see you. Can we meet somewhere? Wherever you want. I’ll come to you.

~ Y/N

Dear Dean,

This is my second attempt at writing this. Crumpled up the first one because I’m an idiot. Am I an idiot? Did I piss you off with the last letter? I honestly didn’t mean to. I just- we said we’d be honest, and you’ve been so open in your letters that I thought it was ok to talk about, but I guess not. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have dug that stuff up.

I’m so tired and stressed and I miss you so much. Since we’ve been writing back and forth it’s almost like I can’t stop thinking about you. I get so fucking excited to check the mail whenever I roll back into town. It’s like… I don’t know, it’s like Christmas every time I see your handwriting in my box. Remember the time you wrote your name on my thigh in Sharpie? That stayed on for like a week. I shoulda gotten it inked on. That’d be something, huh? Branded by a Winchester.

Fuck, Dean, I really hope you’re not mad at me. I really want to call you, but we said we wouldn’t. Just write me back, please.

I’ll be in your neck of the woods next week. Got turned onto a haunting up in Abilene. Maybe we can meet on the road somewhere? Please?

Hey, did you know there’s a Hunter, Kansas? Wonder why they didn’t build the bunker there. I don’t know, made me laugh when I was looking at the map.

Anyway- Please write me back. Or call. Or text. Or send a damned pigeon with a tiny letter taped to its foot. I don’t care, how, just do it please. Even if you’re mad at me and don’t want to talk anymore, I get it. But please. Just let me know, OK?

I’m sorry.

Love, Y/N

Dear Y/N,

I didn’t know you and my brother were writing to each other like this, but I found your last few letters to him in his private P.O. Box. I didn’t even know he had one of his own, but I guess we all keep secrets from those we love. I hope you don’t mind that I read your letters. Not all of them, but the last two that came through. Please know that Dean would have responded if he could have, I know he would have. He talked about you a lot recently. Said you two were in contact and that he was hoping to find some time to meet you for a vacation. I don’t know where you guys were planning on going, but I found a new Hawiian shirt in his closet with the tags still on it.

I know we spoke on the phone after he passed, but I wanted to send this to you. I was cleaning up his stuff and found his notepad. Looks like he’d started a letter before we left for Canton. I think he’d want you to have it.

I’m closing up the Bunker soon. I don’t really know where I’ll go, but I can’t be here right now. Not without my brother.

I’ll always be around if you need anything or want to talk. I’ll always answer the phone for you, Y/N.

Be well,

Sam Winchester

Y/N/N,

If I could take it back I would. Every fucking word. I think about it now and I know we made the wrong choice. I know we could have made it work if we tried. But we are both total fuck ups who can’t be normal. We just can’t.

Forgive me

That’s dog slobber up there, not tears. Just fyi. Definitely not tears. I think I might have been a little drunk when I started writing and then well-

Anyway- Maine sounds awesome. We were there once but no time for lobster rolls. Guess I missed out.

Not much to report since the last letter. Been kinda quiet here. But… I did apply for a job. Well, I filled out the application. Well, I started filling it out. It’s actually underneath this notepad right now. I’ll get to it. I will. I just need a good kick in the ass. Or maybe a pinch… wink wink

I absolutely think we need to get together. Pick some place stupid like the World’s Largest Frying Pan or South of The Border. I’ll meet you. Just say when.

Guess this letter will take a little longer to finish. We’re leaving for Ohio in a little bit. There’s a buncha vampire dicks making a mess. Gonna take ‘em to batting practice. Show them my machete swing. I’ll give a full report when we’re back home

Dean Dean,

I made it to the beach. It’s hot, like stupid hot. Had to stand in the water just to keep my toes from burning. I’ve been sitting here for hours trying to think of something to say, but all I can say is I love you. I miss you. I wish you were here with me. I wish things had been different. I wish and wish and wish.

If I throw this into the ocean will it get to you somehow or will my words just wash away like the sand?

I’ll see you again someday. I hope so, anyway. Let’s just pretend I’m destined for Heaven. I know you’re up there. You were too good not to be. You sacrificed so much, cared so much, saved so many people. I know you made it. If there’s any mercy in this universe, I’ll be up there someday too. Just don’t have too much fun without me.

I love you, Dean. Always.

Y/N

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@alwaystiredandconfused @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @leigh70 @lunaroserites @lyarr24 @nancymcl @nix-rose @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @rosecentury @sexyvixen7 @suckitands33 @the-wounded-healer05

#jacklesversebingo23 #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean/reader #sfw

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pennylanefics · 2 days

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Potted Plant - Andrei Svechnikov

a/n: i have been trying my hardest to keep this energy up and get these out as much as i can :) i hit a small wall with svechy's but i finally got this one finished :) two more fics for him to go!

summary: andrei wants to make his home feel a little more welcoming for you after he asks you to move in with him

word count: ~1.8k

“I was thinking about something,” Andrei’s voice fills the otherwise quiet room. It was late in the evening and the two of you were relaxing in bed, Andrei’s arms around you as he read a book and you were curled up in his chest, playing a game on your phone.

“About what?” You lock your phone and look up at him, your chin resting on his torso. His hand comes up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and grins.

“Do you want to move in with me?” He asks, his tone soft and evident of hesitancy, worried about rejection. Your eyes widen a little and your body freezes.

“Move in…here?” Andrei nods and hums quietly, cradling your cheek in his touch.

“Yeah. It would be nice, wouldn’t it? I mean, you are over here all the time, so it wouldn’t be a big difference, you know?” He comments. “We’d just make it official, and you could move all your stuff over here.”

You think about it for a moment, and he did have a point. You spent a lot of time at his place, way more than you were at your apartment, and it was perfect timing, since your lease was ending soon, you could just let your landlord know that you won’t be returning.

Sure, it wasn’t a safe option, in case something were to happen with you and Andrei, but you chose not to think about that right now, leading to you answering your boyfriend with a nod of your head.

“It would be nice. I will move in with you,” you smile widely up at him. His cheeks redden at your answer and he lets out a big, relieved sigh, pulling you up by your hips so that your face was so close to his, where he could kiss you with ease. His lips press against yours, his laugh eventually breaking it.

“Oh I am so happy,” he sighs, kissing you over and over, then moving on to place little kisses all over your face, eliciting a giggle from you.

“Me too. It’ll be nice to officially move in, so I hope you aren’t going to get tired of me,” you tease him, laying back down against his chest, trailing your finger around the soft, grey fabric of his shirt.

“I could never get tired of you, sweetheart,” he whispers.

In the days following, Andrei helps you pack everything up in your apartment, specifically your clothes, toiletries, and all of your personal items. It was easier to just bring everything, since you had no intention of coming back to the place, and it was better to take it all in one go than make multiple trips for small stuff.

Andrei takes all of the boxes and bags to his car while you take one last stroll through the apartment, making sure you didn’t forget anything. You were also taking the rest of the food that was in your fridge and cabinets, even though Andrei had plenty of food at his place, it was better than just throwing it to waste.

“Everything gone?” He wonders, walking back inside the almost empty space. All of your furniture was still there, which would be a task for another day, you’d most likely move it into a storage unit, or Andrei would find a place for it in his house.

“I think so,” you murmur, curling into his side as he steps over to where you stand. His arms circle around your shoulders, swaying you side to side a little.

“Bittersweet, isn’t it?” He whispers, pressing his cheek to the top of your head. “Remember the first night I stayed here with you?”

“I do,” you laugh quietly, remembering the night, “ you fell asleep on the couch accidentally and you woke up aching because you barely fit.”

“And how you refused to let me drive home so you forced me to stay.”

“Hey, I did not force you. I was protecting you, you were half asleep, there was no way you could have driven home.”

“I was fine, baby. You were being overdramatic,” he teases, tapping your bottom playfully. You pull away from him and smack his chest in retaliation.

“Oh sure, because a 6’2 man leaning against his much shorter girlfriend to simply walk to the bedroom is fine and not tired at all.” He laughs and shakes his head, finally admitting defeat.

“So, are we ready to go?” He changes the topic, nodding his head towards the door.

“Yeah, let’s head out.” You take one final look at the place you called your first home and walk out shortly after, your hand in Andrei’s, heading back to his place, or rather, your new home with him.

It took a couple days to unpack all of the boxes and find a place for them, so much that you ended up keeping a majority of things in a box in the office closet, mainly pictures and trinkets that you couldn’t bear to part with for the time being, but had no space to display the things.

Andrei assured you that nothing would be given away or sold, and that if you are to move into a different house together, they would come with and he would make a space for it all.

Andrei was very understanding and sweet through all of this. He could tell that even though you were excited and looking forward to this new chapter together, you were still quite anxious and nervous about if things would change.

He gave you all the space he needed during this time, either taking a run or working out in the backyard while you organized your clothes or sifted through toiletries. He knew he needed to do something, so he went online while you cooked dinner for the two of you, needing to find a local store that sells shelving units.

“You want to go shopping tomorrow?” He asks once you both have your food plated and are sat on the couch to watch a movie while you eat.

“Sure. What for?” Andrei picks at his food a little, hesitant to bring the topic up.

“To look for some things that would make here feel a little more…like home, for you,” he says, avoiding eye contact for a moment. He finally looks over at you when you don’t respond, he sees a thoughtful look in your eyes.

“It does feel like home,” you lie through your teeth. But Andrei isn’t having it. He shakes his head at you and swallows his bite of food.

“Baby, I can tell you don’t think that. As much as you are wanting to live with me, I can tell you feel like something is missing. So I want to make this feel like your place as well, instead of like you are moving in to my house. I mean, you are, but this is our house now, and you should feel happy with it, too.”

You don’t say anything, your mouth falling open slightly, Andrei stunning you with his words and how well he could read you. A thankful smile stretches at the corners of your lips and you nod, reaching for his hand.

“Thank you,” you whisper, a hint of relief in your voice. Andrei smiles back and squeezes your hand.

“Anything for you,” he whispers back.

The following day, Andrei takes you into town, a couple stores on his mind that he thought would be best for finding things. The first stop was an office supply store and after some looking around, you found a nice mahogany shelf that would look so perfect in the office, since it was quite empty in there right now, as he didn’t use it much; he was more than okay with you taking over that space.

After having the box loaded into your Jeep, you head to the hardware store, another one of Andrei’s ideas.

“What do we need here?”

“I figured we could look at paint colors for the bedroom or the office,” he says, a blush covering his cheeks. “And I thought we could also get a few plants as well.”

So, that’s exactly what you do. After a lot of deliberation, you choose a new color for the office, not wanting to change his bedroom walls since it felt perfect to you, before you move onto the gardening section, browsing through all of the flowers and plants.

Fifteen minutes pass before you finally decide on a monstera plant, a couple small succulents, and a growing pothos with some long vines for the living room. With one last trip to Home Goods for some simple decorations, you are finally ready to head back and get to work, or at least start with some things.

Painting would be for tomorrow, so first, you decided to put the bookshelf together in the room, and just leave it in the middle of the space while you paint the walls around. It took some time and frustration to put together, something that comes with every piece of furniture ever, but thankfully, only an hour later, it was fully set up and tightened really well.

“You want me to start taping the ceiling and you can do the floors?” Andrei sighs heavily as he wipes the sweat off his forehead. He grabs a large roll of clear packing tage and hands it to you.

“I think I’m going to order some takeout for dinner first,” you say, flopping on your back to cool off some. Andrei leans over you and can’t help but meet your face with his, giving you a light kiss.

“Sounds good. Could you order my usual?”

“Of course. I’ll be right back.” You step out of the room and call your favorite Chinese takeout restaurant, and because you guys eat there so much, the lady answering the phone remembers your order by heart now, so she writes it down and hands it off with ease, wishing you well before hanging the phone up.

“That was quick,” Andrei comments when you return only a couple minutes later.

“The lady remembered our order,” you laugh softly, reaching for the tape to start laying some down on the carpet.

Andrei gets up on a step stool to reach the ceiling, and the music coming from your playlist continues on, neither of you saying much. But once everything is taped and you lay some old curtain linings down to shield the carpet from any splashes of paint, Andrei wraps you in his arms tightly.

“I love you,” he whispers. “And I hope this helps you feel a little more welcome and at home here.”

“It already has,” you mumble into his chest. “And thanks again for everything. I really can’t wait to spend our lives together.”

“Wherever it may be, my darling, I will always be by your side.”

taglist: @petite-potato4

#andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov imagine #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov fanfic #carolina hurricanes #carolina hurricanes fanfic #hockey fanfic #nhl fanfic #nhl imagines #imagines #fanfiction #fanfic

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archiveikemen · 1 day

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Harrison Gray 2nd Birthday Campaign: Story (2024)

Chapters 1-3

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Warnings and FAQ

1st Birthday Campaign Story

I opened my eyes to the feeling of warm sunlight hitting the back of my eyelids, and saw Harry’s sleeping face.

(We fell asleep without getting dressed. Both of us have been really busy lately and haven't spent much time together, so we got a little too carried away last night…)

We finally had some quiet time last night and spent it together, but—

Harrison: Mm…

Kate: Good morning, Harry.

Harry, who had woken up once, frowned and shut his eyes again.

Harrison: … Good night.

Kate: It’s morning already. Please wake up.

Harrison: It’s my day-off today…

Kate: Harry! Wake! Up!

Harry finally opened his eyes when I yanked the sheets off to cover my body.

Harrison: You look amazing this morning, trying to seduce me?

Kate: I-I’m not!

Harry, groggy from being woken up, planted a kiss on my cheek.

Harrison: Sure looks that way to me, though.

Kate: Mmph, Harry!

He distracted me with a kiss on my lips and reached for the sheets covering my body.

Kate: N-No!

Harrison: … Is it because I went too hard on you yesterday?

Kate: That’s not the case.

Our interactions since morning filled my heart with both joy and embarrassment, but—

Kate: We made a promise to prepare for your birthday together this year!

Today's date is the 29th of May, a day before Harry’s birthday.

I tried to secretly plan a birthday party for him last year, but…

= Flashback Start =

Harrison: You’ve been avoiding me all day because you’re planning a surprise birthday party for me, am I right?

= Flashback End =

(The cake remained a surprise, but he easily found out about the party.)

I thought about how to go about the birthday party preparations this year, and decided that we would prepare for it together.

(Avoiding Harry while preparing for the surprise party made me feel guilty, so I’m glad I don’t have to do that again this year.)

(Moreover, Victor gave us two days off. That means we can be together throughout.)

Harrison: Where do we start?

Kate: First of all—

…

Kate: We’re baking the cake together this year!

After arranging the ingredients and equipment on the counter, Harry picked up the cake mould.

Harrison: … Isn't this too small?

Kate: I think it's enough, but would you prefer to have a bigger cake?

I baked a five-tier cake with Crown’s help last year, but we’re baking a single tier cake this year.

(Harry loves sweet foods, so he probably wants more cake to eat.)

Harrison: Knowing you, you definitely put a lot of thought into choosing this size for the cake.

Kate: Huh…

Harrison: I’ve never baked a cake before, so I guess this might be the right size.

I felt a wave of affection wash over me as I watched him put the mould back and think with his hand on his chin.

(Harry is always respectful of my thoughts.)

I tried my best to keep myself from smiling while reflecting on the kindness my lover always treated me with.

Together with the rather adorable Harry whose hands were unfamiliar with baking—

Kate: It’s done!

Harrison: My arms are sore from whipping the cream.

Kate: You were the one who decided to make so much cream because you wanted more to eat…

The cake with a generous amount of fruits as toppings looked good enough to be displayed at the storefront of a bakery.

Harry scooped up a mouthful of the leftover whipped cream from the bowl with a twinkle in his eyes.

Harrison: Open your mouth, Kate.

Kate: Yes? Mmph.

He shoved the whipped cream into my mouth, some of it getting onto the tip of my nose.

Harrison: Pfft…

Kate: Goodness! Don’t just shove it in my mouth like that all of a sudden!

Harrison: Haha… my bad. Here.

Harry’s face drew closer and he licked the cream off my nose.

Harrison: Mm… sweet.

Harrison: So? What are we doing next?

…

Kate: Next, we’re picking out a present for you!

I walked briskly through the shopping street, pulling Harry along behind me by the arm.

Harrison: We don’t need to rush. It’s not as if anything’s going to run away.

Kate: But what if the item you like gets sold out?

Harrison: What do you think I’ll choose as a present?

Harrison: … You’re being especially energetic this morning.

Kate: Of course I am. Today’s the day before your birthday.

Harry stopped walking and gave me a wry smile.

Kate: … Are you going to laugh at me?

Harrison: Yeah.

Kate: It’s been a while since we last went out together like this. We rarely get the chance to spend full days together, you know?

Kate: Even though this is to celebrate your birthday, it also feels like a reward for myself…

Despite living in the same castle, I knew from before we started dating that we wouldn't always get to be together.

(Harry’s missions and his job as a proofreader have been keeping him busy…)

Moreover, we’re total opposites of each other, so we often did our own things separately even on our off days.

We had a relationship where we respected each other’s likes without restricting our actions, and it suited us perfectly.

(But, still, spending time with Harry is my ultimate favourite.)

I stole a glance at Harry next to me and saw him frozen in place with his mouth opened, but he soon snapped back to reality and sighed.

Harrison: … That’s fine, no?

My cheeks started to burn when I noticed that his ears were red although he tried to hide his face.

Harrison: What are you turning bright red for?

Kate: P-Pardon me.

Harry took my hand with his usual carefree smile, our fingers intertwined.

Harrison: … Being with you makes me happy too.

Kate: What…

Harrison: Was that a lie or the truth?

Kate: … It’d be nice if it were the truth.

Harry pulled the hand he was holding.

Harrison: Then enjoy yourself to the fullest without worries. I’ll do the same.

We spent our date looking at clothes and going to a cafe, but…

…

Kate: Are you sure that’s all you want for your present?

The book in Harry’s hand was a recently published mystery novel.

Harrison: Yeah this is what I wanted the most. Thanks.

(As expected, he chose something that doesn't cost much.)

He seemed to notice my disappointment that he chose an inexpensive present.

Harrison: Isn't it the sentiment that counts, and not the price?

Kate: That’s true, but…

Harrison: All that matters is that you bought it for me.

Harrison: Besides… I’ve already received more than enough from you.

(What does he mean by that?)

When I cocked my head in puzzlement at Harry’s words, he stroked my hair fondly.

Harrison: Give it a good thought, okay?

He took his hand off my hair and held my hand.

Harrison: Alright, what’s next?

Gazing at Harry’s profile under the light of the setting sun, I took a deep breath.

(It’s okay, he hasn't seen through my “lie”.)

(I hope this lie remains hidden from him for the rest of the remaining hours.)

…

Afterwards, we enjoyed the dishes Victor prepared for Harry’s pre-birthday celebration.

…

Harrison: We’ve been out and about all day.

Kate: Are you exhausted?

Harrison: A little, but it's not too bad.

Kate: Fufu… I feel the same.

Kate: I’m looking forward to tomorrow.

Harrison: Yeah.

Kate: Eh…

Harrison: What’s wrong?

Kate: Nothing… I was just surprised to hear you say that you’re looking forward to it…

(Harry has always been one to think that he doesn't deserve to celebrate his birthday.)

No amount of imagining how his past birthdays must’ve felt like to him would make me truly understand.

Last year, I tried my best to make his birthday special without having to lie to him,

(But he didn't say that he was looking forward to his next birthday.)

Knowing Harry now thought of his birthday as something to look forward to filled me with so much joy, I felt a twinge in my nose.

Harrison: … Sorry to interrupt your emotional moment, but can I have what I want the most?

Kate: Whoa!

Harry suddenly pulled my arm, making me lose my balance and fall onto him.

He gently caressed my waist as he held me close enough to hear his heartbeat.

Harrison: … I want you. May I?

I nearly nodded in response to Harry’s whisper in my ear,

Kate: N-Not yet!

Harrison: … You're hiding something from me, aren't you?

Right when I thought I was in trouble, there was a knock on the door.

Kate: Be right there!

Harrison: Huh…?

I swiftly got out of bed and went into the hallway where a maid handed a tea trolley to me.

I expressed my thanks to her before pushing the trolley into the room and parking in front of Harry, who stared wide-eyed at it from the bed.

Kate: Harry! Happy birthday!

Harrison: What’s with that cake?

His eyes fixed onto the six-tiered cake on the tea trolley with the cake we baked together at the very top.

Kate: … I’m sorry, Harry. I lied to you.

I raised a finger.

Kate: The truth is, I had Crown bake the other five tiers.

Kate: But I knew that if we did the same thing we did last year, you’d figure it out.

Kate: That’s why, this year, I decided to make a cake together so that you wouldn't find out about it.

While Harry remained astonished, I pulled out a refined black box I had kept hidden.

Harrison: … What’s that?

Kate: There’s one more thing I hid from you. Actually, I’ve already bought you a birthday present.

I opened the box to reveal a mint coloured fountain pen.

Kate: I knew you wouldn’t choose something expensive for your present.

Kate: … But I wanted to give you a proper present.

Kate: I thought that if I had everything prepared in advance and did the same things with you, you wouldn't realise it.

Kate: Looks like I succeeded!

Harry’s lips curled into a smile as he gazed at my triumphant expression.

Harrison: You really are something else…

He caressed my cheek with his palm.

Harrison: … You’re always surpassing my expectations.

Harrison: I did think you were hiding something from me, but…

Harrison: If you were to do the same thing again, I wouldn't be able to figure it out just by looking into your eyes.

Despite his words, Harry looked happy and I held the hand stroking my cheek.

Kate: Let’s dig in, Harry.

I fed Harry a piece of cake with a fork, and he placed a hand on the back of my head and pulled me in for a kiss.

Kate: Mm, why?

While I was distracted by his non-stop sweet kisses, I felt his hand untie the ribbons on the back of my blouse,

Kate: Are we not eating the cake—

Harrison: We’re eating it together now, aren’t we?

Kate: This isn’t eating!

Harry was being more impatient than usual and I felt like I was going to drown in the sweet moment,

(But I must say it to him.)

Kate: P-Please wait a minute!

Harrison: … What?

He wore a dissatisfied look, but I straightened up and spoke.

Kate: Happy birthday. I’m glad I could spend it together with you again this year.

Kate: … What do you think of my lie?

After blinking in silence for a brief moment, Harry pulled me into a tight hug.

Harrison: … I used to think that someone like me didn't deserve to have his birthday celebrated properly.

Harrison: The lying fox’s fated ending isn't a happy one. No matter which fairytale, the fox is always the hated one.

In fairytales, the fox was a symbol of deceit.

I was well aware that none of the tales had happy endings for the foxes.

Harrison: … But all of that changed when you came into my life.

Harrison: There’s no one who would be happier about my birthday than myself, except for you. That’s why it doesn't feel bad to have been lied to.

I felt Harry chuckle on my shoulder and narrowed my eyes.

Kate: I’ll still be here to celebrate your birthday with you next year, and every year after.

Harrison: Any birthday with you by my side is the best birthday of all.

Kate: Really…?

Harrison: You’ll find out from now on, whether that’s the truth or a lie.

Harrison: … You’ll still be by my side next year and every year after, right?

I intended to remain by his side to find that out and be the first person to celebrate every one of his birthdays from now on,

Harrison: I told you, didn’t I?

Harry removed his shirt and his lips drew close—

Harrison: — Any birthday with you by my side is the best birthday of all.

Kate: Ah…

Last year, I wasn’t able to truly believe those words.

(I wasn't confident that my presence alone would be enough to make his birthday the best one ever.)

(... But I understand it now.)

This is the truth from you, a person who always lies.

#ikemen villains #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #otome #ikevil translations #harrison gray #ikevil birthday

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envy-of-the-apple · 2 days

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ok i like the idea of reader going to shoko thinking she’s normal physician (not knowing she only works for sorcerers) and asks for a checkup. one thing leads to another and reader has to continue meeting her for ‘check-up’s’ frequently…..

how does it feel to be the smartest person in the room bestie????

@mynahx3 hiiiiiiiiii<3

Trust the Professionals

Dark!Ieiri Shoko x reader

Synopsis: Doctor Ieiri has a new treatment she’s eager to try on you

Word count: 2.2k

(Warnings: Dubcon/noncon, manipulation, vaginal fingering, dark content, mc's kinda dumb, self-gaslighting lmaooo, hospital kink? im pretty sure this is some type of kink but idk whats its called)

For the longest time, you never really believed in ghosts.

You weren't really the religious type. You went to church every so often, but you weren't invested. It's why it took you a while to get around to the idea that spirits were real, and one was particularly attached to you.

Luckily, the Shamans always seemed happy to help.

"It's back again, huh?" Doctor Ieiri asked.

You nodded, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. She doesn't look like a Shaman. You were expecting more bells and bracelets. Traditional clothing. Doctor Ieiri was always dressed in a labcoat, professional makeup that did little to cover lack of sleep. She looks like she just fell out of a hospital drama.

Despite her looks, you knew she was pretty good at her job. She was the only person who'd gotten rid of your spirit problem. At least, for a little while.

You don't know what she meant exactly, but the spirit ("Cursed spirit," she corrected one too many times) was a replicator. It needed to be exorcised multiple times to fully disappear. This has been your third visit so far.

You watched as her eyes followed something right above your head. She hummed, leaning forward on the desk, tapping her perfectly manicured fingers.

"That's strange," she murmurs, "usually, by the third, it's gone."

You wilt at that. A part of you feels guilty for taking so much of the Doctor's time. All of the appointments so far had been free, but you wouldn't blame her if she started asking for payment, or if she turned you away completely.

She straightens her back.

"Clearly, regular exorcisms aren't working." She states the obvious. "So far, they've just been a temporary fix. There's one more thing we could try but..."

For the first time since you've seen her, Doctor Ieiri hesitates. You look at her.

"Not many prefer this procedure." She explains. "It's a little...unorthodox."

Her reluctance should give you a warning, but you've already spent days putting off this appointment, willing for your cursed problem to go away, spending hours tossing and turning in bed, feeling something crawling up your back with too many legs and too many teeth.

"Anything." You say. "Anything to make this go away."

There's a glint in her eye. Something not quite a smile tugs on her face before it's gone. She stands up, prompting you to do the same. In her hands is a neatly folded hospital gown.

"You can put your clothes over there." She mentions to a chair. "Including your undergarments, please."

She must notice your discomfort because her tone becomes less clinical.

"We can stop whenever you want." She tells you. "But stopping in the middle is typically discouraged. Curses are pretty fickle."

You nod. "Okay, Doctor."

"Please, just call me Shoko." She gives a tired smile. "I want you to be as comfortable as possible for this."

You don't feel comfortable calling her by her given name, but Ieir-Shoko looks so pleased when you let her name reluctantly leave your lips, and you feel too bad to retort.

She steps out of the room shortly after handing you the gown. You put your clothes on the chair, she pointed out. When Shoko knocks, you're already seated on the examination table, swathed in the the thin fabric.

"You follow directions well." She's wearing a surgical mask now but looks satisfied with your compliance. You give a shy smile.

"Let's start with a general overlook for now." She says. "It'd be helpful if we can pinpoint where the curse originated."

You nod, but you can't push away the nervousness as Shoko gently pushes past the fabric. She's wearing gloves, but the rubber is a flimsy barrier to her warm fingers. Her hands brush past your clavicle, and the plastic gown easily yields for her touch. You gasp when she touches your tits, fingers lightly brushing over the nipple. The room is so cold. You're so sensitive. You stiffen against her touch.

She notices, pulling back to see your face. "Something wrong?"

"Uh, no." You smile, but it feels watery. "Just nerves." You can't read her expression. The mask hides everything.

She hums, and you're grateful she doesn't comment on how jittery you are. You hold in your reaction when she lightly presses on your breast. Her thumb flicks over your nipple again. You'd call it sensual if you weren't thoroughly convinced that Shoko was a professional and you were the weird one here.

She pulls away eventually, and you sag in relief. It was over. You don't think you could do that again.

"It's not coming from your upper body." Shoko murmurs. "Would you mind if I untied your gown? It'll be better if I can see everything."

You hesitate, unsure, but Shoko's previous words make your rejection waver. Curses are fickle creatures. In the end, you let her unwrap the gown.

There's no real point to it now. You're fully displayed on the examination table, legs spread, leaning back on your hands. It's embarrassing. You can feel yourself heat up at how exposed you are, especially considering Shoko is still wearing her lab coat and that mask.

But Shoko says nothing about it. Right, she's a professional. Instead, she starts pulling off her gloves.

"I'll be able to locate the cursed location more effectively without a barrier." She explains and you nod along.

She starts with your foot, gently squeezing your foot. It feels nice, like a massage. You languish in the touch, only getting concerned when her prodding starts going up her calf.

Shoko rubs circles along your inner calf. Something wells within you, but you're pushing it down because Shoko is a professional. Instead, you lift yourself off the table just to feel more in control.

"Not here either," Shoko murmurs to herself. "Maybe I need to go a little deeper."

Your eyes widen when she rests a single finger at the entrance of your pussy.

"Doctor, I—I don't think that's—" with one motion, she buries her finger inside you.

You're already shamefully wet. Your walls are already clenching down her nimble finger. You can't help it, you shudder, giving out a breathy whine.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" For some reason, you can hear a smile in Shoko's voice as she starts pumping her finger in and out of your sopping pussy. "You can talk. I'm great at multitasking."

"I—I was just saying—saying Doctor, you—" Her finger curls, and you are interrupted by another moan.

"Shoko." She reminds you her voice firm and calm and a total juxtaposition to the way her thumb is circling over your sensitive clit. "I want you to stay calm and relaxed throughout this procedure, okay?"

"Shoko." You keen and you're sure her breath hitches but your brain is numb and she's still wearing that mask. "This—This just feels a—a bit strange and I—"

She coos in sympathy. "It's all part of the process. Just relax, okay? You're doing so well for me."

At this point, you're leaning back on your elbows. The new angle jolts pleasure up and down your spine. It gets even worse when Shoko adds a second finger, stretching your sensitive walls out even further.

"I think the curse is getting closer. We're almost there." Her voice is soft and breathy in your ear and you can hardly understand that she's taken off her mask. "Just a little more. Just a bit further. So so good for me. You're doing so well, baby."

Your orgasm hits you like a train. All at once, you seize up on her fingers, your thighs squeezing together and your moan resembles more of a scream than anything human. Shoko keeps going as the orgasm smashes your broken body like grass.

She stops when you give one last shudder before collapsing onto the examination table. You lie there, breasts heaving, eyes glazed. You're so far out of it that you don't even notice the way she licks her wet fingers.

It takes a few seconds for you to gather your bearings. When you do, you're mortified. You shoot up from the table, covering yourself up with the flimsy gown, ready to apologize when Shoko asks:

"How do you feel?"

It's such an innocent question. It takes you off-guard. Sensitive, is your first answer, but then you think some more and you realize that you can't really feel the dread or the weight on your shoulders anymore.

"You...exorcised it?" No, this felt different from the last two exorcisms she performed on you. Now, you feel five years younger.

She grins, pleased.

"Yes. I found the origin point." She explains. "Even if it ever comes back, it'll be smaller and easier to deal with."

You nod, still recovering from your high as you roll your shoulder. Everything feels so good.

"Wow," you say, "I—thank you! Thank you so much!"

She pulls back, accepting your gratitude with a soft expression.

"We're done for today." She tells you at last. "You're free to put on your clothes. Can't imagine that gown is very comfortable."

You wait for her to leave. She doesn't, sitting back behind her desk, typing away at her computer. There's no real point of you having privacy, is there? After all, you basically just showed her everything.

Still, when you go to put on your clothes, you can feel eyes on you, trailing down your body, your ass. It isn't Shoko. She's always busy with her keyboard, diligent as always. You were feeling things.

One garment was missing, however. As discreetly as you could, you searched around for it, glancing at the floor, underneath the chair. You swore you left it with the other clothes. How could it just disappear?

"Something wrong?"

Shoko's peering up at you, head tilted. You open your mouth. But then you decide they aren't worth the further embarrassment.

"Nothing." You give a nervous grin. "Just nothing."

Shoko can still taste you when Satoru visits her hours after your appointment.

"Get out," she says. Satoru just grins, shutting the door behind him. It was worth a shot.

"I see your favorite little patient had another check-up," he says, "still haven't disclosed we aren't exactly in the personal exorcism business, have ya'?"

Shoko shrugs. "It's a personal project. Don't worry about it."

"Right, you say that buuuuut 'can't help but notice that our lovely non-sorcerer still has a curse swimming around—"Satoru clicks his tongue. "—It's fourth grade, too. This deskwork is making you go soft, Shoko. Maybe I should start dragging you out to missions."

"Did you exorcise it?" Ugh, that would be a pain. Shoko spent so long cultivating that curse to work in her favor.

Gojo grins. "Nah."

"A residual curse." Satoru continues. "Harmless, but pesky enough to be noticed if it isn't dealt with in a couple days. Smart."

By Saturday, to be more exact. Shoko has already cleared her schedule. She can already hear your voice crackling through the phone, sweetly apologizing for such short notice, but would it be possible to book an appointment? She won't tell you that, nor will she tell Satoru. Though, she has a feeling the bastard already knows.

Said bastard is rifling through her drawers. She frowns when he pulls out your panties.

"Aw, these are so cute!" Satoru gushes, shamefully twirling the fabric on his finger. "Are you starting a collection? This some kind of trophy? Hey, I don't judge."

"It's wrong to take things without permission," Shoko says.

"I should be telling you that." Satoru grins. "Y'know, our precious non-sorcerer is kinda' cute. Maybe I should pay a visit—"

Shoko bolts up from her chair. She stares at him. Gojo stops playing with the frills. He's still smiling.

"Easy, easy." He says, but he hands her the fabric anyway. "Damn, I had a feeling, but you're whipped for this one, are n'tcha? Do I hear wedding bells?"

She rolls her eyes. "Get out."

He obliges with a snicker, proving that he only came to mess with her. What did she expect? With a sigh, she collapses back onto her seat.

She dangles your panties in one hand. She refuses to sniff them again, even though your taste and your smell are still swirling around in her head. They must have looked so cute on you. Next time, she'll put cameras in the room, just so she can have a playback of you shyly shucking off your clothes before compliantly slipping on the gown. She wouldn't know what would be more tantalizing to watch; the show or your utter obedience.

Satoru was, unfortunately, right. Shoko was crazy for you, even though you clearly didn't carry the same feelings. That's okay. In this line of work, Shoko knows she has to take what she wants, that letting her desires go is for those like Satoru.

So Shoko will lie and coax and manipulate until you're seated pliantly in her grasp. And maybe if Satoru behaves, he'll get a wedding invite.

And if you still don't yield...well, there's always plan B.

#the B stands for aBduction btw #yandere #yandere jjk #dark jjk #x reader #Dark Ieiri shoko x reader #Yandere ieiri shoko x reader #Yandere Ieiri Shoko #how much malpractice is in this? yes #tw:dubcon #dark content

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tonyboneysblog · 2 days

Text

MOTHER HEN: PART SEVEN

parings: hawks x mother!reader

wordcount: 3.2k

warnings: none

notes: daddy’s…home? genuinely so excited to write the next chapter cause if you notice the timeline, something big is coming😈😈

summary: you, the mother of Fumikage Tokoyami, are just a simple nurse! Who caught the eye of a certain pro.

You haven’t gotten a text from hawks in the past four days, which puts you in a sour mood.

technically it’s a little bit of your fault for kissing his forehead- but if the little shit would have just let you explain…

what’s even worse is that your unable to watch the sports festival- fucking hospital job.

And when you finally get home from that hellhole, Fumikage will be sassy cause you weren’t able to watch him.

He wouldn’t be angry just..slightly disappointed?

Then when you cuddled up in your nest yesterday you see that damned hawks plush you spent 30 dollars on…

So here you are at this amazing place of work! against your will of course.

Currently you’re at the water station- until you were rudely pulled away due to a pro hero getting hurt…as usual.

You open the door to see a younger, dark skinned woman with white hair and the cutest bunny ears on her head.

She looks at you and starts waving happily…your heart would feel warm if it weren’t for the blood on her face.

“Names Mirko!” Oh, you know her! Your sister used to be obsessed with her…well for a short period of time but still obsessed no the less.

“Mirko, how you feeling today?”

She sends you a thumbs up, “terrible!”

You chuckle softly and walk over towards her, accompanying another one of the doctors.

“What’s her condition?”

The doctor sighs, “nothing too serious, we ought to check her for a concussion though..and she’ll have to at least spend one night here.”

“With those injuries it should be longer no?”

The doctor shakes his head, “can’t keep Mirko tied down for too long.” Then proceeds to just…walk out.

But Mirko doesn’t let it stay too quiet.

“So, your name is?”

You smile softly, “ Y/N Tokoyami.”

Mirko looks like she’s pondering for a moment..looks as if she knows you from somewhere.

“I swear I’ve heard that name before..” she says quietly.

You smile again, “you probably have, so is there anything you need?”

Mirko puts her attention back onto you, “nah, I’ll be alright.”

“Really, Why’d the doctor call me in then?”

“Because I complained my ass hurt, I’ve been laying in bed all day.”

You chuckle, “that all?”

She nods her head quickly.

“Well, let’s hope you don’t get a bed sore kay?” You shoot a thumbs up towards her, same she did to you earlier.

Then you walk out, wondering why she even needed you…

But Mirko knew why, hawks told her you were nurse and she wanted to she what all the fuss was about.

Truthfully, he’d been talking about you every time she saw him while on patrol.

She supposes his ramblings are correct, you’re cute.

Then again Mirko has never really pinned hawks as the mamas boy type, and you echo the motherly type.

But you’re sweet, maybe that’s why he’s so attracted to you?

So, Mirko pulls out her phone to bother hawks about his little high school boy crush.

she took it the the group chat though, little asshole.

BEST PROS.

carrot foot

Found ur gf hawks

caw caw bitch

what

caw caw bitch

where

jorts

who?

carrot foot

Hospital

INCOMING FACETIME CALL

Mirko sighs and answers it.

“Where is she, she look cute?” Hawks says frantically.

Mirko shakes her head, “again hawks, get a grip.”

Mirko can hear the wind howling into the phone, of course hawks is flying while on the phone.

“Answer me.” Hawks says sternly.

Mirko immediately starts rambling about the very small amount of information she has on you, “Damn you got a mommy kink or something, cause that woman is a MILF. I mean M.I.L.F.”

“What- what the hell does…no?” Mirko can pick on hawks confusion through the phone.

“Hawks, man, that woman echos mother. Here she is mothering throughout the halls of a hospital!”

“Mirko, what’s your point here.”

“I mean she’s hot dude, get your head in the game…or in her i don’t-“

Mirko can then her hawks yelling loudly out of shock, “GROSS MIRKO, DONT MAKE JOKES LIKE-“

If he yelled any louder you could probably hear him in the halls.

Mirko laughs loudly, “Don’t get your panties in a twist, I’m joking.”

Then there’s an uncomfortable silence on the phone, a little too long for comfort.

but then of course hawks breaks it- as him usually does.

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind…”

Mirko starts laughing again, “aha! Damn dirty bird- go get your wings ruffled elsewhere man!”

Hawks responds quickly, ignoring Mirko comment.

“I gotta go- I see a best jeanist and I’d like to go pull his ear.”

Mirko huffs, “fine, but he isn’t your wingman-I am.”

Hawks laughs softly and hangs up, leaving Mirko in silence.

Until you walk in.

“Oh, there’s my favorite nurse!” She beams.

“Do you mind if I watch the sports festival in here? My kids in it..”

Mirko nods her head, “I don’t mind- need to look for recruits anyways.”

So, there you and Mirko sit watching the sports festival together.

Many times throughout it you had to put a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from screaming and alerting the others your not technically working at the moment.

but during every break in the sports festival, you rushed and did your actual duties as quickly as you could.

Then when you came back, and the 1V1 battles have already started.

And of course your gorgeous boy conquers and destroys the competition.

One after another, what was most surprising to you was seeing todorokis and midoriyas fight, aggressive and raw.

made you vividly remember that was the boy who tripped on his own ice..

You were a little scared that’d he have to face your Fumikage.

Instead it was Katsuki Bakugo who faced him, and after that fight he’ll be the only kid who doesn’t get your end-of-semester cookies.

I mean cmon! Grabbing your son by the beak?! Unbelievable…angers you to your core because who does he think he is?!

But it’s fine.

Fumikage would’ve won if it were anyone else.

But Fumikage still got third, and you can shove it in all your friend’s faces that your son is awesome and that they could never.

Because Fumikage is one of a kind.

You look over to Mirko after jumping for joy for your son’s new shiny medal.

“He’s a good fighter, y’know I know someone all birdy like that.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yea, hawks.” She says bluntly.

You can feel the color drain from your face, hawks low key, high key broke your heart after your last interaction.

“Oh… well I’m sure Fumikage will consider an invitation from him.- if he wanted to work with him.” You say while tapping your fingers together.

Mirko pulls out her phone, typing something, you don’t know exactly what but…it’s whatever.

carrot foot

yea your cooked bud

caw caw bitch

what

Mirko seats down her phone next to the table, where you can hear it buzzing loudly…

“Uhm are you gonna check that?” You say nervously.

“Nah, he’s fine.” She says as she finally relaxes into the bed she had been complaining about all day apparently.

“Ah…okay?” You then hop out of the seat, making your way back to your work.

You should get him an apple pie to celebrate, or maybe just straight apples cause Fumikage will go crazy either way.

Hawks briefly crossed your mind again, what was his favorite again? Wasn’t apples you know what…it was probably something dumb- just like him…

dumb, dumb, dumb man.

enough of him, you have work to do…

right after you call Fumikage!

It rings, but he doesn’t answer? Which is weird because Fumikage always answers his phone unless it’s dead.

Yes that’s probably why, he’ll call you right back when it charges.

But Fumikages phone was in-fact not dead, he was just…distracted?

Fumikages eyes squint slightly, “What could you possibly want.”

It’s hawks he’s being so standoffish with, but hawks just sends him a soft smile.

“It’s the sports festival, of course I’d be here.”

“You decide to stalk me instead of my mother?”

Hawks goes quiet, his carefree smile faltering.

“Not exactly..we got in a small spat.”

“If you’re trying to get me to talk to her for you, it’s not gonna work.” Fumikage starts to walk away before hawks grabs his shoulder.

Then dark shadow comes out.

Hawks steps off slightly, “that’s kinda freaky…”

“Kinda like your face.”

Dark shadow looks over to Fumikage, “that wasn’t even a good comeback.”

“Shut up dark shadow.”

Dark shadow scoffs and folds his cute little shadow arms with what looks to be a pout on his face.

Hawks face completely loses the carefree smile, “I’m serious when I say I’m not here for you…well not technically.”

“What do you mean by that.”

“Yea, what do you-“

“Dark shadow…”

Hawks lets out a small breath, “I was interested in you being my sidekick due to the skills you showed off on the fie-“

“Not interested” Fumikage says curtly.

Dark shadow whips his head over to look at Fumikage with surprise, whispering something in his ear.

“He’s number three- you can’t just reject an offer from him!”

“I can, and I just did.”

Then it’s silent, Fumikage doesn’t mind though.

Hawks sighs softly, putting back on the smile Fumikage hates so much.

“Well if you ever rethink it, my agency will always be open.”

“I hope retribution comes for you in the darkness of your home.”

Hawks stays quiet but then his face twists into confusion, “what does that even mean..?”

Fumikage huffs and if he had hair he would most likely flip it whilst walking away.

Fumikage leaves hawks standing outside, utterly confused in what Fumikage was even talking about.

Maybe that’s what you meant when you said Fumikage was unique…

speaking of you, you were still at that darn hospital.

Fumikage was aware of that, you always worked a lot but the times that you weren’t working you tried your best to spend them with him.

Until Mr. Pro-Hero decided to come into your life..

The first time Fumikage really noticed your relationship with hawks was when you had the talk on the balcony.

He knew he wasn’t going crazy when he thought someone was under a blanket, a blanket you don’t even use may he add.

Then the next day when he went up to your balcony, the blanket was in-fact no where to found.

Then he caught him in your kicthen, Fumikage debated on even eating the cookies because maybe hawks terrible aura rubbed off on them.

They were delicious but that’s not the point!

Then hawks wanders into Fumikages home, which was locked, uninvited looking for you.

Only time Fumikage could tolerate hawks was when he had to save you from the bar.

But then his tolerance shot down when he walked in on the two of you coddling each other.

Then he heard the “little spat” you and hawks had which is why he rushed into your room so fast.

Honestly, who does that damn fowl think he is?!

Fumikage explains all of this to poor dark shadow, who truly just wanted to watch a movie with him.

“Sounds rough.” Dark shadow says quietly.

Fumikage huffs, “It’s worse than rough dark shadow, it’s appalling.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so…extreme with hawks- Momma seems to like him.”

“Correction, liked, my mother will never participate in any romances with that man again.”

Fumikage ends the conversation there, but dark shadow would like to expand on the topic.

“It was nice of hawks to offer you that side kick position.”

“well being nice doesn’t cut it.”

Finally, the conversation about hawks is finished, Fumikage only ranted for 4 hours this time!

And he’d finished 3 movies in that time as well…maybe the hospital will let you off early.

So Fumikage and dark shadow fight the urge to rest, which they both utterly fail and fall asleep on the couch.

You come in around 5:30 so they never stood a chance, not after the day Fumikage had.

You walk into the door, spotting only Fumikage.

You stumble over towards him, sitting on the floor and brushing your hand through his feathers.

Fumikage is knocked out, so he won’t wake up if you pick him up.

You use all your remaining strength to pick Fumikage up, making your way towards your bedroom.

It’s been a minute since Fumikage got cuddles from his mama.

And also you seriously doubt you could carry Fumikage back to his room, then walk back to yours without passing out onto the floor.

You place Fumikage under the warm covers, then yourself.

You then wrap your hands around Fumikage as tightly as you possible could, as if someone would take him away if you didn’t.

Then you rest, same as Fumikage.

Same as hawks.

And hawks truly needs to thank you for whatever you did to make him stop having those nightmares.

barely dreams now, and if he does it’s always weird shit.

usually has you in it too.

nevermind, you probably cursed him and overrode whatever put that nightmare spell on him.

a curse that just makes him dream about you.

Now he really wishes he talked Mirko into getting a picture of you, he misses you bad.

Maybe a text wouldn’t hurt? No, too risky- you’re probably still mad at him.

Maybe he could worm his way back into your life with that weighted blanket, if his plan worked he could probably steal it back anyways.

It still smells like you, which is weird because he’s had it for awhile.

That’s probably his favorite part of the day now, getting home, taking a shower, cuddling into his mostly bare bed and just sniffing that shit like it’s coke.

Kinda like how some people spray lavender onto their beds to get sleepy, he just smells the hell out of that blanket.

He wishes he was able to snatch another item from your house that smelled like you.

Fumikage doesn’t really smell like you, he noticed.

He smells kinda like wood? And also a little fruity too.

You wouldn’t really guess fruits and flowers from looking at him but maybe your scent rubbed off on him too.

Honestly, hawks kinda feels like Edward when Bella first walked into that classroom though- hawks wouldn’t be covering his mouth to avoid the smell, he would be INHALING that smell.

He would never admit that the night that he comforted you out on that balcony he didn’t even go home and change, he kept that uniform on.

The coat didn’t truly smell like you, but the under shirt did.

Maybe he’s going a little crazy, sure he’s real kept together most the time but- the things you do to that poor man.

And Mirko- peacefully sleeping in the hospital, she may be hawks wingman but she needs her rest too!

And when you wake, you’ll have to go right back to the hospital.

doesn’t men’s you can’t talk to your son before you leave though.

“Mama.” Fumikage says sleepily, awoken from you moving all around the room.

You perk up now your son’s awake, “Fumikage?”

Fumikages eyes a still closed, fighting to go back to sleep.

“Did you see me, in the sports festival?”

You run your hands through Fumikages feathers, “Course’ I did.”

Fumikage smiles softly, “guess who talked to me after..?”

“All might? I saw it on-“

“No it was hawks, invited me for an internship.”

You jaw slacks slightly, “did you accept?”

“No, not after what he’s done.” Fumikage says with a little rasp in his own voice.

“You should’ve.”

“What?”

You sigh, “hawks is number three- doesn’t matter what he did to me Fumikage.

Fumikage stays silent, suddenly now regretting telling you.

“But…”

You kiss his temple, “thank you for thinking about how I’d feel though. Don’t let my emotions or relationships get in the way of your future.”

Fumikage nods, understanding your point of view.

“Are you leaving for work?”

“Yep, it’s not a long shift though.”

You open your bedroom door, “I’ll see you later, Fumi.”

Then walking out of your own house, making your way to the hospital.

Once you walk in, your infact greeted with Mirko!

and hawks.

“Ah, my favorite nurse!” Mirko cheers excitedly.

“Mirko! Shouldn’t you still be on bed rest?”

Mirko chuckles, “glad you’re worried about me toots.”

You gasp a small bit at the nickname, “Oh!”

Mirko places her hand onto her hip, “Hey, didn’t I see you hear like 7 hours ago, why you already back?”

“Duty calls?”

Hawks chuckles at that, wasn’t even funny.

Mirko throws an arm around hawks, “this was the birdy boy I was talking about!”

“We’ve met.”

suddenly there was an awkward silence.

Hawks wanted to throw himself out a window, you wouldn’t even look at him.

Mirko taps her foot nervously.

“Hawks…” you say his name softly.

His head perks up form Mirko hold, “yeah?”

“Sorry that Fumikage rejected you…I know how he is.”

Hawks can feel his heart beating in his ears, “it’s all good- doors always open.”

You nod softly, looking away.

The three of you just stand there in silence, Mirko foot tapping repeats.

Then she breaks, “Mrs Tokoyami, sorry for holding you up-You got a job to do!”

You jump in surprise, “ah- your right, it was nice talking to you both!”

You quickly walk away to clock in, Mirko and hawks make there way outside.

She scoffs, “had the perfect opportunity.”

Hawks rolls his eyes, “I wasn’t gonna apologize to her in a hospital.

“I’m going to put you in the hospital/ what the hell even was that back there?!” Mirko exclaims.

Hawks pushes her arm away, “I was nervous.”

“Doors always open!” Mirko mocks him.

“Oh quiet down.”

“I’m your wingwoman- giving you a perfect chance and you fuck it all up.”

“It wasn’t that bad-“

Mirko smacks the back of his head, “Hawks, shut your trap.”

Hawks doesn’t reply, walking next to Mirko throughout the less populated areas of town.

Mirko snaps her fingers, “You know what, I can fix this.”

“You can?”

“Of course I can, I’m Mirko.”

Hawks groans softly, already annoyed by the days events.

Mirko starts her plan, “clearly she cares a good bit about her son-but there feeling are mostly separated for different things.”

Hawks nods along.

“So instead of getting all cushy with her son again, you need to fix it with her- clearly your not gonna getting through with her son based on what you told me earlier.-“

Hawks interrupts, “her son is always home though.”

“Don’t interrupt me, he goes to U.A. I bet they have some trip for passing the exam.”

“How are we supposed to find that out?”

Mirko groans, “let me talk, I’m always going to that hospital for some reason- I’ll find something out…she likes me unlike you.”

Hawks looks away with a pout, “Don’t say that…”

“I’ll say whatever I want, I’m your wingwoman.”

Hawks and Mirko continue their walk up until they get to his agency, since Mirko doesn’t have one.

Though Mirko continues walking, “See ya later, Hawkey.”

“Where are you going?”

“To my house?- don’t fuck up anything else while I’m gone.”

Hawks huffs lightly, walking into his own office.

He has so much paper work to do, then the commission will be badgering him later for “doing it wrong” according to them.

He can’t wait to just be home.

Be home next to you.

or…your blanket at the very least?

…he really needs to fix this.

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