#I AM SO SAD THE POOL IS GETTING COLD AGAIN

[eternalglitch]

silly glitch fact of the day: I do mermaiding as a hobby and own four professional grade fabric tails.

[utterlyazriel]

love will unravel me (so please keep your hands held tight)

sorry if ur seeing this twice !! i am a finicky gal and was tooo sad it didn't appear in the tags so forgive me for the repost <3 it's good ol' hurt/comfort

It's unnerving.

To know something is somehow... wrong and yet, not be able to put your finger on it. Something being off.

There had been something off since your return from the Illyrian Mountains. Like a scar you hadn't ever remembered getting, like a lump in your bed that hadn't been there before.

You had returned to the Night Court only the night before, far later than expected. It had been near twilight, yourself kept late in the war-camps dealing with the unpleasant likes of Lord Devlon. All you wanted to do was to crawl into your waiting bed.

But your bed wasn't empty.

The perfect shape of your mate, tucked beneath the blankets, is one you could recognize in the dark. Even then, you had felt the strange difference — a tickle along the nape of your neck, enough to make you shiver.

Drained of your energy, you carelessly ignore it. Chalk it up to the bad feeling you got every time you went back to those gods forsaken war-camps.

Beyond their terrible ways and nearly tyrannical leaders, your own mate's history there was enough to make you want to burn it to the ground. To scorch and salt the Earth so nothing could grow there for a hundred years as proof of the pain.

So, feeling weary, you crawl into your bed. Your eyes find Azriel sleeping beside you, silent as always, and you trace the delicate features of his face in the dark. Even in his sleep, his shadows, lazy and slow, greet you as a slumber begins to wash over you. The lull of dreams comes quick.

As does morning. But come morning, Azriel isn't there.

Not the most unexpected thing; there were early morning trainings frequently enough. However, Azriel loathed each time you were sent to monitor over those war-camps. He bristled silently each time you left and rejoiced in that quiet, tender way he did best when you came back home to him. A mission in Illyria usually guaranteed a morning in bed with your lover.

Today, the sheets are cold.

You frown as you push yourself up, the sheets pooling at your waist. Faintly, at the back of your neck, you feel it once again. The tickle. Frown deepening, you reached your hand up to scratch at the back of your neck absentmindedly. Your eyes fall on the door.

Like a mystical tug, you feel compelled to search for the Shadowsinger — slipping out of bed silently, the tiled floor is warm from the morning sun beneath your feet. You pull the door open an inch, wondering just where your mate has ambled off to this morning.

As you step through the door, drawn by your mysterious compulsion, you don't turn back to check behind you.

And even if you had, your eyes would glaze over the large Illyrian, still bundled up in your sheets, turning over in his sleep.

—

You find Azriel out on the balcony, not in training as you had suspected.

He's facing out towards the city, his hands braced on the marble, his strong wings held proudly behind him. Interestingly, his shadows have forgone him this morning. Not one of them is in sight. You sidle up to him, feeling more yourself already just seeing him.

"Abandoning me in bed this morning?" You begin, playfully. You reach out to loop a hand through his arm. "I thought you had promised me—"

Your words come to an abrupt halt as Azriel shifts before you can touch him, his arm pulled out of reach.

In fact, as he notices your presence and turns to you, he takes an entire step backward. His handsome face screws up, a frown set on his brow.

"Don't." He says severely.

Your chest pangs with hurt. Your eyebrows crowd together in your confusion, concern beginning to melt into your blood.

"Az?" You say tentatively. You want to step closer to him, to cradle his face in your hands like you do whenever he has that crushed expression on — but a greater part of you fears he may retreat from you again.

"Don't call me that." He say, voice lower. His head dips, turned away from you to hide his face. Your concern swells, a thousand alarms ringing inside your mind. The back of your neck tickles again.

"Azriel," You try again desperately, fighting to keep your voice even. "What happened? What's going on?"

Confusion paints every thought in your mind as it whirls and searches, hunting desperately for the cause of your mate's sudden iciness. Was it something you had done? Was it taking another mission to a place you knew he so despised you going to?

The Fae before you doesn't say a word.

"Azriel," His name comes out a plea, unable to help yourself. It only scratches deeper into your soul when he maneuvers again, quicker than you, purposefully evading your touch.

"Stop." He instructs, the word nearly a growl. His voice is alike to the bark he uses for talking down to unruly war-camp Lords. It's nothing like the soft, sweet tone you're so accustomed to. It makes his words sting even more. "Your touch disgusts me."

You reel back at his words, a sharp inhale shooting to your lungs. What? You could feel your mouth opening and closing, no words coming to fruition. Behind your eyes, you can feel the itch beginning. You will your tears away, confusion still the dominant emotion swirling inside.

"I—" You stammer. "I don't understand."

Azriel snorts, unamused. He crosses his arms across his broad chest, looking more intimidating than usual as he draws to his full height. He keeps his eyes on the ground but the expression on his face looks... bored.

"I've had a revelation."

Another ache resounds through your chest. Why is he being so cryptic? Since when... had disgust been something Azriel had ever associated with you? You shiver at the prickle that rolls down your neck. It's as though you had gone to bed and your mate had been switched in the night.

"Az, you're scaring—"

"Stop calling me that." He snarls, interrupting you. You jolt in surprise, your feet taking a step back. With the way he's leering over you, a hint of anger —anger you've never seen directed at you before— creeping into his face, something akin to fear grows within you.

Azriel is stronger than you and far more deadly. A fact that usually provides comfort, for the first time, only grows your unease.

"Don't you want to hear my revelation?" He asks, his growl barely reined in. He smiles down at you but it's not soft in the way you know. It's cruel.

You take a step back. Something is wrong— terribly, entirely and utterly wrong with the love of your life. Panic begins to bubble up, like waters rising in a sinking ship.

You need to find someone else. You need Cassian, need Rhys, need anyone else here to help because you are the worst person to help. Every word he says cuts deep to bone. You can feel your heart bleeding within your chest.

It has to be a trick.

That was all you could think. Your mind was stumbling over the sentence over and over, almost delirious in how it clung to the thought tightly. It must, it must —you hoped it was. Begged it to be.

You take another step back, ready to dash through the house and call for help — but Azriel takes another step toward you. Your fear spikes, looking up his snarled face, the power within him radiating off in waves.

"I came to realise that I don't—"

"—y/n?"

A voice cuts in. There's someone else on the balcony with you. Thank the Mother, you think to yourself, whipping around to find Cassian in the doorway. He's got a furrow in his brown, concern written all over his expression.

"Cassian," You breath his name in a sigh of relief. You step back again, hyper aware of how Azriel seems to take the exact same amount of steps as you, following you to the door. Your panic flares away, your breaths coming fast and short.

"Cassian, thank gods—" You begin.

"What's happening?" He interrupts urgently. His eyes are on you alone, never flickering across to Azriel out on the balcony. "Why are you— did you have another nightmare?"

"Nightmare?" You repeat, eyes wide as you stare at him in concerned bewilderment.

You're about to point out the very large intimidating Male staring you both down when Azriel speaks again.

"I said," He drawls out the word and your head snaps back to look at him. You fail to notice that Cassian doesn't even turn at all.

"I've had a revelation, my dear."

It all sounds so terribly sarcastic, such a far cry from your stoic, sincere mate. You cringe, already feeling how his next words will be made cut you down.

"I don't want you anymore."

"—what can you see?—" Cassian's voice speaks from beside you, fuzzy and out of focus. You stare at Azriel, your heart beginning to hum and fizzle, a thousand fissures breaking upon the surface.

An anguish so deep in your bones rattles through your body — and across the House of Wind, your real mate wakes up with a gasp at the feel of it.

"What?" You croak, unable to tear your eyes away from Azriel.

You can feel Cassian's hands on your shoulder, shaking you, but you can't— you won't look away. Something deep within you compels you to watch him break your heart and shred your soul. The back of your neck singes with heat.

"—What is it you're seeing?!—" Cassian's voice dips in and out. His hand sweeps your hair back, looking for any ailments causing this. He finds it in an instant. "Holy Cauldron, your neck. Oh, that's so not good. Rhys!"

He bellows for the Highlord right as Azriel, the real Azriel, bursts in through the door — following the taut agonizing pain in his chest, that connects you two together. His eyes snag on you and Cassian, out on the balcony, and his brother turns to him but you do not.

"Azriel," Cassian warns. "It's a Vesania Sigil."

Azriel pays him no heed, even as the words echo through him with a darkened dread. His stomach turns, bile threatening.

A Vesania Sigil— his knees nearly threaten to buckle beneath him.

A Vesania Sigil is a sinister curse, placed on people to drive them to the brink of insanity, minds scrambled to exhaustion.

In all the times Azriel has seen them in his long lifetime... they have all been on dead Fae, driven to the point of taking their own life. His shadows burst into a frenzied storm.

Your eyes are fixed somewhere out of the balcony, a glaze to them that tells Azriel you're seeing something different than he can. Softly, as gently as he can, he strides out and Cassian steps back to let him. Azriel steps down onto the balcony beside you, slowly, delicately reaching out to touch you.

You startle, head snapping around to see who's touched you. Except when you drag your gaze up and meet his face, you flinch hard. Azriel feels misery twist deep into his heart, some buried fear within him coming true before his eyes.

You take a step back, stumbling as you do. Then your head turns back out to the balcony—then back to him, back and forth.

"W—What?" You stammer out.

It takes Azriel only one second to realise why, and to feel the agony as he does; you're seeing double.

When you had said he's everything to you, you had truly meant it. He is both your greatest love and... your greatest fear.

Azriel can feel Rhys' arrival somewhere behind him, can even hear Cassian's concerned voice filling him in but his entire focus is locked onto you. You've stumbled back again, falling painfully on your backside, barely catching yourself on your hands but something— someone on the balcony keeps frightening you.

Something in Azriel screams; how can he fight an enemy he cannot see or touch?

He's on his knees before you in an instant. You're beginning to tremble, silent tears on your cheeks and Azriel's heart wails as you look upon him with a face for a fear. He can't tell what you're seeing but he just needs you to see him.

"My love," He says, voice quiet as to not spook you. You whimper at his words and something shrivels up inside Azriel's chest. He continues, noting how your eyes flick rapidly between his face and something over his shoulder. You shuffle back, too hesitant to trust him.

"My love, my moon," He murmurs, gently reaching out for you. His shadows zip forward, soothing along your skin. You flinch back again but Azriel holds strong, nudging forward until he's touching your skin.

You wince and screw your eyes closed and Azriel can feel the fear, the tormented pain that pours down the bond. He can see it now, this close, the seal that's burning against the skin of your neck. A fiercely protectiveness anger burns in his gut and he vows to tear apart whoever did this to you, limb by limb.

"I don't know what you can see," He say, soft as he can. He lifts his other hand and cradles the other side of your face. Your eyes peek open. "But it's not true. None of it."

Your lips are quivering, lashes sparkling with how they catch your tears. Azriel feels sick to his stomach again; he could do a thousand battles with countless weapons but this is something he's entirely powerless against.

"Azriel," Rhys speaks up from behind, voice cautious. Azriel ignores him, his thumbs stroking softly over your face.

"It's not real." He says with more urgency. Your eyes dart over his shoulder again and a whimper slips out your throat, your body tensing. Real, raw pain scratches it's way down the bond.

"Azriel, I can get it off her." Rhys voice again. "You just need to keep her still."

Azriel nods, but doesn't turn, doesn't take his eyes off you for a single moment. His heart squeezes and cracks, a thousand shards littered through his ribcage when you finally speak. Your glassy eyes have lost a little of their glaze, fixed on your mate in front of you with a desperate plea.

"He—" You begin, sucking in a harsh breath. Your breathing is too fast, your heartbeat too. "It- it fucking—it looks just like you."

"It's not." Azriel assures in an instant. He keeps his eyes fixed on yours, trying to be the picture of calm for you even as his heart warbles in agony at your pain. "It's not me."

Your eyes shift over his shoulder again and Azriel moves this time, blocking your view. "Don't. Keep your eyes on me. Look at me."

Silently, Rhys kneels at your side, his violet eyes blazing where they’re fixed on your neck. Undoubtedly, this was not such a personal attack but something to harm the inner circle. As darkness begins to swirl from Rhys' fingers, orbiting the sigil, you begin crying again, fresh tears spilling down your chests as little gasps wrack your frame.

"It—" You gasp, suddenly focusing desperately on Azriel now that you know who's who. "It— gods, it sounds so much like you."

"It might, but it isn't me." Azriel promises. He aches when your hands suddenly shoot up, eyes screwed shut as you clamp your hands down over your ears — like whatever you could hear was causing you physical pain. Rhys mutters something under his breath, his hands still working.

"Eyes on me.” Azriel urges, knowing you can hear him. You whimper and pitch forward, forehead bowing to your knees. His hands fall away as your head begins to give tiny shakes, side to side. His shadows swarm your shoulders, unsure how to help.

“Don’t—“ For the first time, Azriel’s voice falters with a wobble. He tries not to think of the countless warriors who have fallen beneath a sigil this strong and mentally roars at Rhys to move faster. “Listen to me, my love. Listen, listen to my voice, please.”

Your breathes are ragged, staggering inhales as you press your head between your knees. You entire body shakes and Azriel dares to steal a glimpse at the back of your neck — the intricate rune imprinted on your skin shimmering black as it slowly seals.

"Keep," Rhys grits out, his concentration still focused on his power. "her still."

Azriel's hands dart out, already apologising at how he has to force your head out of hiding. You gasp and sob, pulling back to resist but Azriel holds tight, his hands holding your face as tenderly as he can.

He pushes forward, crowding in, until his forehead rests against yours. He summons everything he can within himself, every ounce of devotion he holds for you and send its down the thread in his chest til everything burns white hot.

"Look at me, my love. Show me your eyes. Listen to my voice." Once the silent stoic type, Azriel lets everything that comes to mind fall out his mouth.

Your eyes crease open, flush with tears, and you shudder against him but Azriel feels it. The push back. The press of your skin against his, trying to get closer, trying to get to safety. Rhys curses for a moment, his dark magic still swirling and Azriel resists every urge to howl at him to hurry.

"Tellmetellmetellmetellme," You chant in a whisper, half delirious. You're flicking between his hazel eyes, your hands still half over your ears, body still wracked with quivers.

Tell me. Azriel's soul feels marred at the reveal of what is taunting you and he strokes his thumbs over your cheeks, drawing your attention to him.

"I love you," He says, voice sounding close to wrecked. "I love you and you're mine. I'm yours and you're mine."

You shudder violently, eyes crushing closed, right as Rhys pulls away with an exhausted sigh. It's gone. Azriel hears Rhys' voice in his mind but it's not even needed — not with the way you suddenly slump forward into him, like a puppet with its strings cut.

"It's okay, it's gone," Azriel murmurs lowly, gathering you up in his arms as much as he can. He can feel your body shaking against him, sobs still forcing their way up your throat. His wings wrap around you, an inky cocoon of safety, sealing you off from the world.

"It's gone," He repeats, his arms circling around you. He can feel the pitter-patter of your rabbiting heart, feel the remains of fear that hang around your system. Every cell in his body yearns at this injustice, the fabric of the mating bond sending his protectiveness into overdrive. But more than the urge to hunt and maim whoever harmed you is the overwhelming need to make sure you're safe.

"You're safe now, I swear. It wasn't real." His assurances continue softly, his body instinctively beginning a slow rock to soothe you. You sobs slow to cries, your hands twisted tightly into his sleep-shirt. "I love you. I love you."

By the time your breathing evens out and your hiccuping cries slow, it's some time later. Your face has been buried in Azriel's chest and when you finally dig it out, Azriel's heart disintegrates once more at your blotty skin, your tired eyes.

You don't even have to ask.

"Vesania Sigil." He says quietly, hazel eyes burning into your face.

You can feel his writhing worry through the bond, like a caged tiger, fiery hot and licking at your heels. You give a little sniffle. Open your mouth to speak and find not one word in your throat.

Azriel's moving deftly before you can think, his strong arm looping beneath your knees to scoop up you against his chest. You let yourself be coddled, thankful to the way he curls himself around you entirely, wings hiding your view — only a flash on the ceiling to be seen. You're not sure you can face the others just yet.

The door your bedroom opens as he nears and Azriel kneels on the edge of the bed, his strong thighs maneuvering you both up til he's rested up against the headboard. Pure exhaustion like nothing you've felt before creeps up from within you.

Yet even so, you feel your heart twinge. It's been chafed raw today. Your hands slither and squirm, til they're wrapped tight around Azriel's middle and he hums protectively, his wing draping over you like a blanket.

For a moment, there is only weary, tired silence.

"Tell me?" You ask in a whisper, your voice so, so small. Azriel aches at the pain in your voice, sending every assurance down the golden thread between you.

"You're mine," He says, voice hushed and yet doused in his love.

"I'm yours." You echo, voice a little stronger than before. He can feel the way you tug on the bond, as if checking its still secure— still unbreakable. "And you're mine?"

Azriel folds himself even closer and tugs back on the bond strongly. His scarred hand glides up to bury itself in your hair, massaging slow and sweet. His nose nuzzles in against your hairline, his lips pressing a kiss wherever they find skin.

"And I'm yours." He agrees.

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ maybe in another universe!! hcs

content: percy jackson x mortal! reader hcs//jason grace x mortal! reader hcs warning: angst and then fluff to make up for. the percy one is rather short but i also kinda didn't want to do these but i did but i didn't so this is what we get. author's note: okay okay, i get it, you guys want pt ii's of both these hcs. i don't personally feel i have enough to say for TWO separate hcs so when i did was join them together and make it a sort of alternate universe thing. since percy's ended happy last time, he gets angst. since jason's was sad, he gets fluff. i thought it was cute, okay. also, once again, made the text. yall know what to do at this point.

𝜗𝜚 percy jackson

"I shouldn't have to live like this to love you," you mutter after you and percy ducked into another alley, having to leave some fancy restaurant quickly as percy saw what he believed to be a monster.

"what?" percy asked with a light laugh, looking down at you but his smile slowly faded as he saw the tears pooling your eyes, "y/n-"

"it's not fair to either of us."

"y/n, don't do this."

"you- you deserve to be with someone who understands, percy. i'm...i'm just another mortal, right? i'm sure there are plenty of demigod girls-"

"i don't want any of them, i want you. y/n, if you think i care if you're mortal or not..." percy trailed off, not really sure what to say anymore as y/n dropped his hand, her head hanging.

"it's not what you think. it's...it's what i think. i'm sorry, percy, really i am. i don't want- i love you more than i should," you whisper back, tears streaming down your face, which felt stupid as you were the one breaking up with him.

"i love you so much, y/n, which is why we don't have to breakup. love should be enough," percy insisted, reaching for her but she pulled back, shuffling out of his grasp.

"it should be, but sometimes it can't be. percy, this is for the best. maybe...maybe if we were different people, if we lived different lives, if...if i wasn't me and you weren't you, we could have worked. but not here, not this time," you explain, the pain of this worse than naything you've ever felt.

and since getting with percy, you've felt a lot of pain, both physical and mental

"y/n, i'm begging you. stay, we can work this," argued percy, his hands and voice shaking with the desperation to get her to stay.

"maybe next time, percy jackson."

with that, you left the alley, not even sparing him a glance as you braced against the new york weather, never to be seen by percy jackson again.

𝜗𝜚 jason grace

"woah, if it isn't jason grace, the charming son of juipiter, if i recall correctly. i believe you have something of mine," you spoke, trying to keep your excitement under wraps as you approached jason's bench

you saw him and knew it was jason, even after all these years.

and you knew it was fate, as you happened to tug his jacket on to protect you from any stray cold breezes

jason turned to the girl, aged and wiser since the last time she saw him, but just as handsome and kind looking.

"i'm sorry, but do i-" jason stopped his question and his gaze seemed to gloss over

you'll admit, you panicked.

you crouched down next to him, setting a hand against his shoulder without a second thought, your thumb rubbing comfortingly over the orange shirt

"it's okay if you don't remember me. it's been what, two, three years?" you nervously stated, growing more self-conscious at the lack of answer from jason

"no, no. i- i remember. ha, bless the fates, i remember you. everything from that evening, all of it. the gelato, the gorgon, your laugh and smile, my jacket and your bracelet. i remember it all, y/n l/n," jason rambled, reaching out with his own hands and cupping the girl's face, excitement radiating off him as he was finally starting to remember his life. but most importantly her.

"well, that's really nice to hear from the boy i haven't stopped thinking about in three years," you whisper, a soft laugh falling from your lips.

"it's closer to two," jason corrects with a smirk and she shakes her head at him

"okay, show off."

"just testing my memory. that's all," mutters back jason, like he was making an inside joke, and y/n gives him a strange look.

"something you're not telling me?"

"always seems to be that way with us, doesn't it?"

so, once again, jason explains his world to you. the robbing of his memories and the sending him to america. he talks about leo and piper, wanting you to meet them. he talks about hera/juno. and finally, he talks about you, breaking the dam and allowing at least some of his memories to come back.

he knew it wasn't all of them, but the ones of you had to be worth whatever else was locked in his own head.

"so, basically, i'm more powerful than the gods? i mean, if they locked away your memories and i unlocked them-" you question, intending it as a joke, but then there is a crack of thunder that has you diving into jason's side.

"yeah, let's not answer that one," jason replies before the two of you burst out in chuckles, you still cuddled into jason's side, both of your eyes drawn to the skyscape of rome.

"what about you? what have you been up to these past two years?"

"not anything nearly as interesting as you! should've let me open, how am i supposed to follow that up??" you giggle, poking at jason's side, earning you a few laughs from the roman demigod, which is all you ever wanted

but you told jason about your uneventful two years anyways, hoping to extend your time together for as long as possible

the last time you left him, he'd forgotten you. you weren't so sure you wanted to risk a second time, in fear this one would be more permanent

you talked about going home before getting homesick for rome and immediately coming back. you bashfully admit to frequenting the gelato place more than you should have, hoping for a glimpse of the boy beside you. you tell him about your job and your life and how you looked for him on every street corner and in every newspaper

"i'm sorry i took so long getting back to you," jason whispered when she was done, his eyes pulling away from rome and to her, knowing the sight was infinitely better.

you shrug, experimentally reaching your hand up and pushing it through his blonde hair

"distance makes the heart grow fonder, or whatever."

"do you remember-"

"you're one to talk," the girl quickly cut in with a smirk and jason glared at her

"ha, funny. no, do you remember what you said about the fates that day?"

"ironically, not really."

"look who's got the good memory now. you talked about them being kind if we ever met again. i think they're more than kind, far far more. they've given me back my memories of you, you're in my denim jacket - which i expect back, by the way - and i've still got your necklace. i think we've been set up, y/n," jason rambled, ending with a large smile in the girl's direction, who leaned forwards and nearly let their lips touch before pulling back the slightest bit

"well, who are we to disappoint them, jason?"

then, finally, after waiting and waiting and then some more waiting, you got to kiss your jason grace, the son of jupiter who fought his way back into your arms without even knowing to do so.

and you knew, in the back of your mind as you curled up to jason's side and continued to watch the sun set on the city of rome, that in some distant world, you and jason did not get so lucky.

in one, you could have died from a car accident, eyes caught on some blonde on the street, needing to make sure it wasn't him and missing the bus coming your way

or jason never got his memory back, an awkward exchange of words and departures when you'd inevitable run into him in the street

but you didn't give these other universes much thought as you felt his lips against your temple

you didn't need another universe when you got so lucky in this one.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Napoleonville [Chapter 5: The Haunted House]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, smoking, drinking, drugs, infidelity, kids, parenthood, Adventures With Aegon, Targ family dysfunction, bodily injury, no Willis this time yay!!! 🥳

Word Count: 7.3k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

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Every house is haunted, not just by phantoms of the past but by the ghosts of what could have been. They live in shadows, in doorways, in the periphery of your vision; you walk through them like smoke or mist. Their blood—pooled and pulseless—is a cold spot in a sweltering room, their fingerprints are the woodgrain swirls of floorboards. If you listen closely, you can hear them at night in the chorus of the cicadas and the owls and the wet westbound wind. They whisper questions you’ve never been able to answer: Have I made the right choices? Have I done the best I could? Is love a myth or does it only exist for other people? Am I a prisoner of the past or the future or myself? Why have I never been chosen?

In the bathtub, you stare at the pale blue walls veined with cracks like the legs of a spider. On the tree swing in the front yard—here long before you moved in, inherited from the effort and care of another family’s hands—you skim your bare feet over emerald blades of grass and watch the lightning bugs appear at dusk. In Cadi’s room, you play the Nintendo when she asks and try to forget who gave it to her; and when she asks about Aemond, you say he’s busy with work, because how else can you explain his absence to a child? In the kitchen, you break eggs into glass bowls of vanilla, sugar, flour, butter, baking powder, but you keep getting pieces of shell in the mix, something that almost never happens anymore. You snap, grab an egg, pitch it against the refrigerator where it explodes into calcium carbonate shrapnel and sterile yellow gore.

Amir looks up, startled. Behind his rectangular tortoiseshell glasses, his eyes dart between you and the viscera that stains the refrigerator door. At last he says softly, seriously: “What is it you liked so much about him?” Implicit in this statement are others: You’ve never liked a man this much. You’ll never see Aemond again.

You study your palms, tools of creation, tools that destroy. “I spend every second of my life consumed by responsibilities. The house, the car, the bakery, the bills, Cadi, Willis, myself, even you. There’s no one to tell me what the right thing to do is. There’s no one who can carry the weight for me. I can’t show it when I’m tired or frustrated or scared. And so to have someone who—even for an hour, even for fifteen minutes—could take care of me, and make all the decisions, and convince me to trust him…it’s the closest I ever get to being at peace.”

Amir gives you a sad, vanishingly small smile. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me too.” And you wet a dishcloth so you can begin to clean up your mess.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Thursday, and you’re coming home after delivering cakes for a birthday party down in Thibodaux. Your car radio is blaring Message In A Bottle by The Police. When you roll into the gravel driveway, the red Audi Quattro is waiting for you: parked right beside the house, like he belongs here, like he owns it. You throw open the door of your Chevy Celebrity and rage up the sloping, groaning steps of the front porch.

The first thing that hits you is the cold. There is an ambient humming, a chill that raises goosebumps on your bare arms. When you rush to the kitchen, you find an air conditioning unit in one of the windows, a metal box that turns the Fall-Down House into a tundra. They’re sitting at the hastily-cleared counter: Aemond leafing through the ledger book containing the financial records for the bakery, Amir beside him sipping a glass of sweet tea. Aemond glances up at you and then back down at the pale green pages, the lines of his face intense, focused. Amir greets you with a nervous titter, hiding behind his sweet tea. Ice jangles in the glass.

“What the fuck is that?”

“Our new air conditioner!” Amir says, overjoyed. “The customers are going to love it. No more waiting around in a stifling kitchen. You know how miserable it gets in here during the summer. We won’t be able to get rid of them! They’ll be purchasing cupcakes by the dozen just to have an excuse to get out of the heat!”

Aemond is still scrutinizing the ledger. “Why aren’t you buying more things in bulk?” he asks Amir. “The shelf life on things like sugar and flour has got to be six months at least.”

“We don’t have the liquid capital. We can’t spend cash if we don’t have cash.”

“And all these business expenses—mixers, coolers, pans, blenders, knives, the gas you burn when you make deliveries, the water you use to wash dishes—those are all tax write-offs, right?”

Amir hesitates. Aemond is aghast, his eyebrows shooting up into the blonde hair that shags over his forehead. The strands are damp with sweat and curling at the edges; he’s been working hard. He’s the one who heaved the air conditioner up onto the window ledge. His Marlboro jacket is draped over the back of his barstool. He’s wearing jeans, a black MTV t-shirt, and his Adidas sneakers.

“Please tell me you haven’t been paying income tax on money you aren’t actually keeping.”

“I didn’t know what we were allowed to write off, I was petrified to make a mistake! I don’t want to end up in Rikers!”

“They don’t put people in Rikers for tax evasion. You’d only go to minimum security.”

Amir rolls his eyes. “Well now you’ve convinced me.”

You are betrayed, furious. “You’re showing him the book?”

“He’s very bossy,” Amir says, slurping his sweet tea. “As you know.”

Aemond asks you, making notes on a legal pad he’s commandeered: “Do you have an IRA?”

“A what?”

“An IRA,” Aemond repeats slowly, emphasizing every syllable. “An individual retirement account.”

Should I? Could I? What the hell is that? “Um. I don’t think so.”

Aemond sighs, exasperated. He jots down another bullet point on his legal pad. “You need one.”

“I need you to get out of my house.”

“Shh!” Amir pleads. “He bought us an air conditioner!”

“Do you know how much that’s going to cost us in electricity? The bill is going to go through the roof. We’re not going to be able to afford this. And he doesn’t care, because he hasn’t even thought of it. Drop an oil rig into a lake and solve the unemployment crisis. Throw an air conditioner in a window and buy someone’s loyalty. He doesn’t understand us. He doesn’t care about us. He’s not capable of it.”

“I’ll pay for the electricity,” Aemond says. Now he’s looking at you.

“Get out,” you demand.

He seems—perplexingly—to be genuinely wounded. “I’m trying to help you.”

“Get out!”

Aemond stands, walks to you, backs you up until your shoulder blades hit the refrigerator. The metal door is cluttered with Cadi’s drawings, secured there with multicolored alphabet magnets: dinosaurs eating people, Rambo, astronauts rocketing to the moon, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Aemond is so close you can smell the cigarette smoke and cologne and sweat on him, see the smudges of ink on his fingers. His right eye travels all over you, defiant and hungry. His left eye—and you only notice when there’s no space left between you—is an impassive, glassy, not-quite-identical blue that never moves. It’s an imposter, and a very good one; but it’s not him. You think, unable to say it: What happened to your face? Who hurt you? Instead you strike out to shove Aemond away with both hands.

“Get out of my house—!”

“You want to get rough with me? Will that make you feel better?” he murmurs darkly, ignoring your palms when they collide with his chest, his collarbones, his jaw. Your flesh can’t hurt him, it can only graze his skin like stray bullets. “You want to hit me? Go ahead. I’ve had worse. I promise you I have.”

“I hate you!”

But you haven’t said the right word, and you both know it. He grabs your wrists, holds them still, whispers low and menacing into your ear as you struggle to rip your hands out of his grasp. “I dreamed about you all night. Tying you down, stretching you open. I want that. I think you do too.”

“I don’t want it,” you hiss; but already you’re imagining him on top of you, inside you, in control of you, and to resist that is like trying to fight the instinct to seek water, sleep, sunlight.

“Then tell me to stop.”

You glare up at Aemond, raging, burning. His gaze locks with yours and stays there. You are suddenly aware of the heat of his fingers linked around your wrists, of the pressure of his hips against yours as he pins you to the refrigerator. You can’t say it. I don’t want him to stop touching me. I don’t want him to leave and never come back.

Again, Aemond dares you: “Tell me to stop.”

From the kitchen counter, Amir is gawking at you both, his eyes huge, stunned, painfully uncomfortable. Nonetheless, he doesn’t look away. “I’m not leaving,” he informs Aemond. Just in case you’re weak enough to agree to something you’ll regret later; just in case you need a friend.

The spell breaks, the curse lifts. Aemond releases you and takes several steps back. He breathes deeply, running his fingers through his damp hair, composing himself. “You’re a good person,” he says to Amir.

“Thanks. I’m afraid I can’t return the compliment.”

Aemond turns back to you. Now he’s penitent, measured. Already, a part of you misses the weight of his bones on yours. But that’s not why Aemond is here. “Let me talk. Let me explain.”

No, you almost say. I’m not interested. I don’t want you anymore. There’s nothing you can tell me that will make me feel at peace with you again.

Instead, after long moments colored by waning sunlight and the whirring of the new air conditioner in the window: “Okay.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re on the tree swing, gripping the ropes and swaying slightly back and forth as you push off with your bare feet, rocking from your heels to your toes and then back again. Aemond lights a cigarette and takes a drag as he sits cross-legged on the grass in front of you. Amir keeps peeking out from between the blinds of the living room windows. Aemond glances around the yard, and you realize he’s searching for the alligator. His Marlboro jacket is folded neatly on the ground next to him.

“The gator’s not here right now, Aemond. She’s probably over in the trees. She’s not going to hurt you.”

He nods, but he doesn’t seem convinced. He fidgets restlessly with his cigarette.

All that money, all that power, all that ecological ruin, and he’s petrified of a five-foot gator that’s probably never eaten anything bigger than a pelican. It’s ridiculous. You smile weakly. “I think you have a phobia.”

He gestures to his scar, to his ruined left eye. “I’m afraid one will sneak up on me and I won’t be able to see it.”

He’s never spoken like this to you before, acknowledging his limitations, his impairment. He’s trying to be honest. He really is. “Where’s Christabel?”

“Back in the U.K.”

“When are you getting married?”

He shrugs, uninterested. “A few months from now, I guess. July. August. It doesn’t matter. I’m not really involved in the planning.”

“You’re a cheater,” you say. It comes out less accusatory than mournful. Why did you have to disappoint me? Why did you have to ruin this?

Aemond is dismissive. He puffs on his cigarette. “Everyone cheats.”

“No they don’t.”

“Everyone from my world cheats,” Aemond amends. “You marry for money or status or land or whatever, to prove you can snag someone who should be above you, to make your parents proud of you, to make sure your children have the right last name and titles. Then when the novelty fades—and it does, it always does—you find passion elsewhere.”

“That’s barbaric.”

“That’s aristocratic. Poor people get divorced two or three times. They have public brawls and call the cops on each other. We just have a different solution to life’s inevitabilities. My mother cheats with Criston, Daemon and Rhaenyra cheated with each other, I cheat with you, Aegon cheats with…I couldn’t even list them. A lot of people.”

Aegon. So that’s the debaucherous brother’s name. “Not all fancy rich people cheat. Prince Charles doesn’t cheat.”

Aemond bursts out laughing. “Of course he does! He’s been fucking Camilla Parker Bowles since like 1970!”

Your stomach sinks. Poor Diana. “I thought they were just friends now.”

“Yeah, sure, that’s what the tabloids say.” He inhales smoke—cancerous, lethal—and then exhales it in a grey gale like fog. “I think they stopped for a few years after he got married. But presently they spend as much time as they possibly can rendezvousing at all their friends’ country estates. Charles and Diana are miserable, but they’ll never split up. She’s entertaining herself with a cavalry officer named James Hewitt. Who looks suspiciously like Prince Harry, by the way.”

“And who does your father fuck on the side? Nancy Reagan?”

“He prefers the memory of a dead woman to my living mother. I’d say that counts as infidelity.”

The photograph Aegon showed me on the Targaryens’ refrigerator. Rhaenyra’s mother. And what else had been on that refrigerator? Pictures of the rest of the family? Old sketches and report cards? Souvenirs? A calendar with upcoming birthdays circled or starred? No. There was nothing. You consider Aemond with a disorienting blend of pity and barbed, venomous frustration. “I’m sorry Viserys has never been a good father to you. But that’s not an excuse to ruin other people’s lives.”

“Look, what you did…” Aemond begins with sizable effort. He puts the end of his cigarette out on the sole of one of his Adidas sneakers. “To walk away from something you believe isn’t right when everyone else is telling you to stay…that’s not easy. And maybe for you it didn’t feel so insurmountable because you’ve had to learn how to survive painful things on your own before. But all I’ve ever done was break my own bones so my father would notice me. I don’t mean that as a metaphor. I’ve fractured my ribs, my hands, my skull. And it’s still not enough. Love isn’t given in my family. I have to earn it. It’s all I know.”

“You could learn something new.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t. I won’t. That’s not a language I speak.”

Exactly how bad of a father was Viserys Targaryen? “Aemond, what happened to your face?”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

You study him. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to be my Camilla,” Aemond says.

“No. No way.” But you’re amazed by how badly you want to say yes. One word and he’ll touch me again? One word and I can have him back the way we were before? It doesn’t seem possible to resist that. It’s not something that should be expected of any mortal.

“I want to be around you. I want you to keep making me feel the way you do, because it’s…it’s…it’s not something I get from anyone else. And I want to make your life better. I have the ability to do that.”

“Because you’re an oil tycoon.”

“Yes,” Aemond agrees. “I was born to be one, and so I am. But even if I wasn’t—if I refused, if I died—it’s not like the trillion-dollar industry would just disappear. There’s Jade Dragon, sure, but there’s also ExxonMobil, Shell, British Petroleum, Chevron, Valero, Marathon, a hundred others. Someone would be drilling on Lake Verret regardless. But the person in charge might be less scrupulous than I am. I’m doing the best I can here.”

“Were you in Ketchikan when the spill happened there?”

“No. I’ve never been to Alaska. That was someone else’s project. It was a fuckup, it was Jade Dragon’s fault. But my father is the one fighting it in court. I have no control over that.”

Someone else’s project…

“Come to my house tonight,” he says.

“No, Aemond.”

“Then come over on Saturday.” And you think: He remembered which days Cadi is usually with Willis.

“I don’t want to be your mistress.” I want to be more than that, oh God, I want so much more. You think of Christabel touching him and wrenching nausea cuts through you like a blade. You imagine Aemond’s hands taking off her clothes—zippers, buttons, ribbons, belts—and you feel like there’s almost nothing you wouldn’t do to stop it from happening.

“We’re from two very different words,” Aemond says calmly, sensibly. “And it’s going to be impossible for us to understand each other unless we make an effort to learn about where we’ve come from. You’ve invited me into your home, your business, your family, and I’m very grateful for that. Now I need to do the same. And I think if you see more of my life, you’ll realize why I make the decisions I do and what it would mean for us to be together. Because in my experience, husbands and wives aren’t soulmates like they are in books or movies. It’s someone else who you actually…” He breaks off, then continues once he’s decided on the phrasing. “Spend most of your time with.”

Part of you knows that this arrangement would be hopelessly inadequate; you would feel like you were settling for less than you want, you would feel unchosen. But the louder part of you is clinging to it like a life raft. I want him to touch me again. I want him to make me forget about everything else. “I’ll think about it. Visiting the house, I mean.”

“Please do,” Aemond says. “How was Cadi’s weekend fishing?”

He really does listen to you; he remembers things. Even things you mention once and then never again. “She loved it. Willis knows more about the bayou than I’ll ever know about baking. They caught three catfish, four breams, and a bass, and then they made them into fish sticks. Thank God she has one parent who can cook. Even if Willis thinks Hungry Jack mashed potatoes are a vegetable. You know what he puts in the pot instead of milk? Coffee creamer. Cups of it.”

Aemond doesn’t seem pleased to be reminded of Willis’ existence. He says, rather mechanically: “I’m really glad Cadi enjoyed herself.” He grabs his Marlboro jacket, rises to his feet, scans the yard for the alligator. She’s made an appearance at last: she’s sunbathing about ten yards away, nowhere near close enough to be a nuisance. Still, Aemond frowns. Then he clears his face and looks back to you one last time as he strides towards his Audi Quattro. “And Cupcake?”

You peer up at him, shielding your eyes from the late-afternoon sun. “Yeah?”

“When you come to the house…” He grins. Not if. When. “Bring your swimsuit.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You cut the engine and survey the grand entranceway of the house that the Targaryens call The Last Desire, words in Greek that you couldn’t pronounce. The blue merle Great Dane—Vhagar, you recall, yet another bizarre foreign name—is lurking between the towering white columns of the wraparound porch. “Fantastic,” you mutter, stepping out of the car. It’s Saturday, 2 p.m., hot and muggy and cicadas screeching in the southern live oaks. Green anoles dart across the cobblestones and freshly-painted white wood of the porch. Whooping cranes, haughty and fragile, ogle you with reptilian yellow eyes.

You pause when you reach the bottom step of the porch. The Great Dane growls at you, her lips curling up to show long fanglike teeth. You’re carrying two bakery boxes stacked on top of each other: one contains a dozen blueberry pie cupcakes, the second filled with fresh Cap’n Crunch Treats. You glance around for someone to assist you with the hostile dog situation. You have no interest in attempting to shove her away like Alicent did on the day of the engagement party.

Blessedly, the head butler materializes in the doorway and beckons you inside. When Vhagar snarls as you approach, the butler pulls a small plastic water gun from the pocket of his black dress pants. “I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience,” he tells you, and then squirts the dog several times. Vhagar reluctantly lopes away. “Please allow me to escort you to the pool. Mr. Targaryen instructed us to be on the lookout for you.” Then he breezes into the house without checking to make sure you’re following him.

You trot after the butler through the white-and-gold foyer, the deep red living room, and then out into the garden. There is a long row of neon green lounge chairs on the side of the pool opposite of the water slide. Three of the chairs are occupied. Helaena is stretched across one wearing a frilly one-piece, floral with ladybugs; her chameleon is perched on the top of the adjustable backrest. Alicent is in the chair beside her, dressed in a turquoise blue coverup that matches the pool water and reading The Silence of the Lambs. They both wave nonchalantly, seemingly unsurprised by your presence. And then there’s Aegon. He’s smoking a joint as a black boombox beside him plays The Cure’s Why Can’t I Be You? You place both bakery boxes on a table shielded from the sun by a large green umbrella.

“What’s in there?” Aegon asks. He’s wearing pink plastic sunglasses, a radiant fuchsia sunburn, and a Speedo patterned with pineapples. His ferret is curled up in his lap and napping.

“Blueberry pie cupcakes and Cap’n Crunch Treats.”

“Yes! Pass me one of each.”

“Don’t be rude, Aegon,” Alicent says dully, turning a page of her book. “She’s not a servant.”

“She’s a literal baker. I’m asking for baked goods.”

“Dear, I’ve been singing your praises to every single person I cross paths with in this jungle of a town,” Alicent tells you, ignoring him. “Have you noticed yet?”

You hand Aegon his treats; he marvels at the miniature blueberry pie placed atop the cupcake frosting before scarfing it down. “I think we’ve had more customers than usual this week, now that you mention it. Thank you so much! Amir and I are more grateful than we could ever express.”

“Oh, it’s the least I could do, love,” Alicent says. Criston appears with a strawberry daiquiri and gives it to her, complete with a swirl of whipped cream and a little pink toothpick umbrella pierced through a wedge of lime. Criston wears a pair of roomy Hawaiian board shorts and his single gold earring. Alicent takes a sip. “Heavenly! I am completely revived.”

“Helaena, would you like one?” Criston asks.

“Yes please.”

“And one for Aemond’s friend too, please,” Alicent says. Criston nods and hurries off again. Nobody asks if Aegon wants a strawberry daiquiri. He gnaws moodily at his cupcake and then when it’s gone moves on to the Cap’n Crunch Treat. Helaena’s chameleon snatches a dragonfly out of the air with its tongue. Alicent shudders.

Aemond’s friend? Friend?? You sit down on the lounge chair next to Aegon, still wearing your pale pink coverup. He tells you: “Aemond should be back soon. He got a phone call and had to swing by the rigs after lunch but he didn’t think it would take long.” Then Aegon smiles toothily, and you notice he has residual white powder around the corners of his lips and just inside his nostrils. “It’s good to meet you properly this time, now that I’m aware of all your talents.”

“You know about Aemond’s…uh…preferences?”

“Oh yeah, and I knew he had a girl. He always has to have a girl. I just didn’t know it was you. He doesn’t usually bring them around the family.”

You steal a glimpse of Alicent and Helaena. If they’re listening in, they’re doing an excellent job of not acting like they are.

“I think we should address this,” Aegon says.

You are stymied. “Address what?”

“It would never work, me and you.”

“I hadn’t even thought of it.”

“Sure you haven’t,” Aegon says. He flourishes a hand melodramatically. “You need a dom. I am, lamentably, an irredeemable sub. I’m a sheep in wolf’s clothing.”

“Okay, Aegon.”

“I just needed to break the tension.”

“I think you’re imagining that.”

There are footsteps, the slapping of flip flops against the cobblestones, and then someone who looks like a younger, more cheerful, more sober Aegon arrives at the pool. He is dressed in royal blue swim trunks that stop at his mid-thigh; his wavy blond hair is down to his shoulders. Like his family members, he also does not seem at all surprised to see you. “Hi,” he says, shaking your hand. “I’m Daeron. I didn’t get to introduce myself at the engagement party. I’m sorry about that. I was entangled in a very competitive tennis match on the courts out back for most of the day.”

Alicent asks: “Daeron, love, would you like a strawberry daiquiri when Criston reappears?”

“Yeah, Mum, that would be great.” He parks himself on the available chair beside her and begins asking about her book. As they chat, a blue macaw flaps through the garden and uses its long, leathery talons to claim the backrest of Daeron’s lounge chair.

“It’s so sweet of you to take an interest in my reading, Daeron,” Alicent gushes. “None of my other children ever do…”

Aegon groans loudly. Everyone ignores him. Criston arrives with two strawberry daiquiris, one for you and one for Helaena. You take a sip through a plastic straw with several loops in it: icy cold and jarringly sweet.

“And one for Daeron too please, Criston,” Alicent requests. “Did you hear that he just got another article published? It’s about evaluating rock wettability.” Her tone suggests that she has no idea what this means; nonetheless, she is ardently enthusiastic.

“That kid is going places,” Criston says admiringly.

Aegon counters: “That kid’s had phone sex with Michelle Pfeiffer.”

You laugh, thinking that it’s a joke. Daeron just gives you a sheepish smile. Oh, you think. Not a joke.

Criston hustles back inside the house. An old man passes Criston as he strolls out to the pool. He looks around blearily, like he’s hungover or has just woken up from a nap or both. His bloodshot eyes skate over you without much interest. He squints at the pool floats that bob in the rippling, crystalline water, sparkly rings and an assortment of foam noodles and a giant cartoonish alligator.

“How was Kiribati?” Aegon says.

“Much better than here. This goddamn humidity!”

“I can’t believe you missed the engagement party, Father,” Alicent says glumly.

“Oh no, how could I! I’ll never have any way of knowing what transpired!” He plops down onto a chair near the end of the row. His bare feet are gnarled, his toenails long and yellowed. “Let me guess. Cake was served, champagne was toasted, people bragged about their stupid hobbies and their ugly children, that girl scuttled about with her perpetually-startled eyes and asinine comments. Do you remember when she tried to give me her condolences when she learned your mother passed away years ago? Why would I want some moonstruck idiot’s condolences? She didn’t know your mother. She doesn’t know anything.”

“Christabel is very young,” Alicent offers gently.

“She’s very something, that’s for sure. Very useless. Very irritating. This family would be in a much better state if Viserys wasn’t the one making all the decisions. His judgment has declined precipitously.” He casts a poisonous glare at Aegon. Aegon pretends not to notice.

“I like Christabel,” Helaena says. Her chameleon gobbles up a butterfly that ventures too close.

“Yes, I’m sure you do.” The old man’s voice is kinder now. “You see the best in everyone. But dear Helaena, we are in for a lifetime of insipid simpers and vapid conversations.”

“A lifetime?” Aegon says. “So not much longer for you, Grandfather. What a comfort.”

The old man glowers at Aegon. “We should have left you in Alaska to have your throat slit by those animals.” And you hear Aemond’s words reverberating in your skull: I’ve never been to Alaska. That was someone else’s project.

Aegon is rolling himself a fresh joint, accidentally spilling sprinkles of weed on his slumbering ferret. He snorts. “I don’t care what Alaskans think of me.”

Daeron says: “Aegon, you poisoned 1,000 square miles of the ocean.”

“The fucking ocean,” Aegon mutters. “What do we even need the ocean for?”

“Vacations,” Otto says.

Helaena adds: “Sushi.”

Daeron is distressed. “Actually, the ocean is super important.”

“Why are we talking about the ocean?” Aemond asks as he strolls through the garden and pauses by the edge of the pool to dip a foot in to test the temperature. He’s wearing black swim trunks and nothing else, just his skin, just his scar and his glass left eye. He sees you, smiles, goes to the bakery boxes and lifts out a cupcake. He sits down on the edge of your lounge chair as he licks off the wave-blue frosting. No one makes any comment, and no one brings up Aegon’s role in the Ketchikan oil spill again.

Criston returns once more with a strawberry daiquiri for Daeron. “Well, I’ve just about killed the blender, so hopefully we don’t need any more—”

“But Criston!” Alicent cries. “What about Aemond and my father? Perhaps they are in need of refreshments.”

Criston sighs. Crestfallen, he looks at Aemond. “Do you want a strawberry daiquiri?”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll just have a few sips of hers.”

Aegon says: “Can I get a pina colada?”

Criston turns towards the old man. “Otto? Daiquiri?”

“No, but if you could immediately teleport me back to the South Pacific, I would greatly appreciate it.”

“Pina colada??” Aegon says again.

“Okay, Aegon,” Criston snaps. “Calm down. Let me figure out if we have any more coconut cream.” Alicent’s part-time bodyguard and personal assistant, part-time babysitter, part-time affair partner vanishes into the house yet again.

Aegon lurches to his feet. “No one listens to me,” he tells you morosely. “You see that? No one remembers. That’s how you know they don’t care.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Alicent tells Aegon, not looking up from her book.

“Wait, someone is missing…” Otto muses, stroking his beard.

Aegon staggers to the edge of the pool, drags over a sparkly turquoise inflatable ring, and flops onto it. He paddles himself out towards the center of the pool. His ferret bounds after him, leaps into the water, and swims until it reaches Aegon, wriggling through the blue like a golden-furred snake. “Hey Sunfyre, you wanted to come too?” Aegon lifts the soaked ferret from the water and places it on his chest, soft and sunburned. “My bad. I assumed you’d prefer dry land.”

Otto—cantankerous and grating—looks around, baffled. “Wait, where’s Viserys?”

“He’s inspecting some of the rigs out in the Gulf of Mexico,” Aemond says as he finishes the cupcake and takes a slurp of your daiquiri. “He won’t be back until the end of the week.”

“Thank God,” Aegon exclaims from the middle of the pool.

Alicent changes the subject. “How long have you been baking, dear?” she asks you.

“Forever, basically. But I started getting serious about making it a business when my daughter was really young, about nine years ago. Now Amir and I sell hundreds of items a week, sometimes thousands.”

Daeron is nodding along, but he appears a little confused. He has gotten himself a Cap’n Crunch Treat and is feeding pieces of it to his blue macaw. “And you do that because…you want to?”

“Well I have to pay rent.”

“Oh. Right. Of course.”

“And I could have been a checkout girl at the Doller General, or worked seasonally harvesting soybeans or sugarcane, or begged my ex-husband to get me a job in the Assumption Parish Sheriff’s Office…but I wanted to do something that didn’t make me miserable. And something that was really mine, that I chose.” Aemond is watching you thoughtfully. The other Targaryens are a tad interested but far more perplexed. They can’t understand work the way you do. They can’t understand money as something that must be counted.

“Brilliant!” Alicent declares at last. “Well, maybe one day we’ll have you making six cakes for Helaena’s engagement party, who knows!”

“It would be my absolute pleasure. Do you have a potential husband hanging around, Helaena?”

She giggles, covering her blushing face with both hands. Her chameleon creeps down to cling to her shoulder, as if to make sure she’s alright. Its conical eyes flit in random directions, an unmitigated freak of nature. You should have more compassion for it.

Aemond grins. “Helaena is responsible for no less than three broken engagements. She can’t commit.”

“And she’s only into guys who look like Aegon,” Daeron adds.

“No!” Helaena objects. “That is such a lie, that’s not true!”

“Evander?” Daeron says.

Helaena pauses to think. “Okay, yes, he looked kind of like Aegon.”

“He did, didn’t he?” Alicent frets, nibbling at the fingernail of her pinky.

“Dimitri?” Aemond says.

“Oh no,” Helaena moans; but she’s laughing too. “Oh no.”

“Sebastian?” Aegon says, and now they’re all howling.

Otto shakes his head. “Freud would definitely have some thoughts about this.”

“Bloody hell,” Helaena whimpers, swiping tears from her face. Her chameleon nudges her jaw with its shimmering, blue-green muzzle. “I totally only date guys who look like Aegon.”

Aegon shrugs from where he’s floating in the pool with Sunfyre. “Good taste, I’d say. Fuck them all, homegirl.”

“Aegon!” Alicent shouts, scandalized.

Criston dashes out of the house and to the edge of the pool, clutching a pina colada that is swiftly melting. “You better paddle yourself over here, kid. I don’t offer in-water delivery.”

“You’d do it for my mother.”

“Probably. But you’re not her.”

Aegon groans as he splashes around without making much progress. “Okay, okay, give me a second…”

Aemond turns to you. “How do you like the house? I realized I never got the chance to ask last weekend.”

“I like all the stained glass, and I like that every room is a different color. The living room is red, the dining room is yellow, the kitchen is teal, Aegon’s bedroom is black—”

“Wait, how do you know?” Aemond is alarmed.

You chuckle. “No, no, not like that. I was lost and looking for a bathroom.”

“Didn’t do anything,” Aegon announces from his pool float. “Didn’t do it, didn’t try it, didn’t even think about it. Well…maybe I thought about it. But I definitely did not do anything.”

“Okay.” Aemond exhales, relived. “Close call.”

“What color is your room?”

He’s not going to waste the opportunity to extend an invitation. “Let me show you.”

On the same floor as Aegon’s punk rock bedroom and the lilac bathroom, you trail Aemond to the end of the hallway. At last he opens a door to reveal a room that is a deep, vivid blue like sapphires. The bookshelves that touch the ceiling are filled not with texts on engineering or the energy industry but histories of people whose names you don’t recognize. He has a massive wooden canopy bed swathed in dark blue velvet patterned with circling koi fish made of stars. He has a writing desk, a wardrobe full of suits, a television with an extensive VHS collection. The stained glass windows are a whirlpool of cerulean, navy, aquamarine, indigo, steel, azure. When you peer through the glass, you can see the gleaming currents of Lake Verret and the twisted dead ends of the bayou that forms at its edges, treacherous and untamed.

And when you start to feel that if Aemond tried to grab you, undress you, tie knots around your wrists you wouldn’t stop him, you tell him that you want to go back outside to the pool; and Aemond listens, and he doesn’t try to touch you even once.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Monday, two days later, and Aemond calls to ask if he can bring you and Cadi dinner. He shows up with all the trappings of what he insists is real Italian food, doubtlessly prepared by his family’s private chefs: focaccia, caprese salad, ossobuco, risotto, Bolognese, panna cotta. He forgets the red wine, so you drink sweet tea instead, the three of you crowded around the kitchen counter, ceaselessly passing dishes back and forth while the little pink Panasonic boombox plays You Spin Me Round by Dead Or Alive.

“Hey Mom?” Cadi says as she chomps on a hunk of focaccia.

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t you ever cook dinners like this?”

There’s a tiny little gut punch, something you’re used to swallowing down even if it bruises you to the heart, to the bones. She doesn’t know any better. You can’t cry, you can’t get mad. You shrug, dispassionate. Aemond glances over at you, abruptly tense but not saying anything. “Well honey, it’s probably because my job can be really busy sometimes, and I spend most of the day in the kitchen, so when dinner time comes around the last thing I want to do is cook. But we always have food to eat, right?”

“Yeah. Like Amir’s leftovers or frozen pizza or something. But all my friends’ moms cook nice dinners most nights. Can’t you do that? When I go to Michelle or Erica’s house for dinner their moms make barbeque ribs, gumbo, seafood boils, etouffee, tasso ham, homemade macaroni and cheese, like real dinners. I want us to have that too. What if my friends want to eat dinner here sometime? I can’t bring them over and then just throw some Swanson’s meals at them.”

Aemond has put his fork down on his plate and is clasping his hands together, trying to figure out what to say. But he shouldn’t say anything. It’s not his place.

You tell Cadi, as calmly as you can: “Different families have different kinds of dinners, and that’s okay. I bet your friends’ moms don’t have cakes and cookies around all the time, but you always have tons of dessert options. Our situation looks different than theirs, but there’s nothing wrong with either one.”

“But desserts aren’t even good for kids. Dinner is way more important. You can’t say I get cakes instead of dinner, too much cake will give me diseases or something.”

“Okay, Cadi. That’s enough. Let’s talk about this later.”

“I’m just saying it seems totally unfair that my friends get real dinners and I almost never do.”

Michelle and Erica’s moms don’t work. They have husbands to support them. So they can spend all day babying a fucking tasso ham, but I don’t have that luxury. And I don’t want to be chained to a man. I don’t want to trade having a say in how my life turns out for being able to slave away over dinner for four or five hours. “I regret to inform you that I’m not like Michelle and Erica’s moms.”

“I wish you were,” Cadi murmurs, entirely unaware of what she’s done. You bite your lower lip so you don’t snap at her, or try to explain, or break down sobbing. You taste blood, hot sharp copper that blooms like wildflowers.

Aemond stands up. His barstool squeals against the sloping wooden floor. “Hey, can I talk to you outside for a minute?” he asks Cadi.

“Aemond, what…?” you begin, but he’s already headed for the front door.

Cadi blinks up at him, horrified. “Why?”

“You’re not in trouble or anything. I just want to show you something. Come on. It’ll be quick.”

“Okay,” Cadi says doubtfully, looking at you. You give her your best reassuring smile, and she slides off her barstool and follows after Aemond. The front door opens and shuts. You don’t hear shouting, you don’t hear much of anything except the air conditioner and the boombox and the mourning doves, the long-eared owl, the cicadas, the bayou, the universe. You go to one of the living room windows and part the blinds to peek outside.

What you see is strange. Cadi is sitting on the swing, and Aemond is kneeling in front of her so they’re just about at the same eye level. You can see half of Aemond’s face; Cadi is blocking the rest. He’s explaining something to her with patient yet insistent gestures of his hands. Cadi says something, and Aemond nods and replies. He points to his scar, his glass eye, and says something else. Cadi asks a question, and Aemond hesitates. Then he acquiesces and moves closer to where she is perched on the tree swing. He reaches up towards the scarred side of his face, but you can’t see his eye. When he lowers his palm, there’s a small piece of curved, oval-shaped glass that glints in the dying sunlight.

“Cool!” you can hear Cadi exclaim, muffled through the windows that are now closed on account of the new air conditioning unit. She says something else, and Aemond agrees. You watch her hand extending towards his face, towards the injury he has revealed to her for reasons you can’t comprehend. You rush to other windows, trying to get a better view, but there’s no way for you to get a clear line of sight. Before you know it, your hear their footsteps drumming up the porch steps. The front door opens just as you’re scrambling back onto your barstool.

“Everything alright?” you say, more nervously than you intend to.

“Yup,” Cadi replies. She climbs into her seat and resumes wolfing down focaccia and Bolognese.

You look over at Aemond, bewildered. His glass eye is back in its socket. He appears composed, but you notice the fresh sheen of sweat on his forehead, at his temples, at the nape of his neck. He gives you a casual little smirk and then returns to his barstool. He picks up his full glass of sweet tea and drains it in three massive gulps.

“Hey Mom,” Cadi says, and your throat is suddenly full of embers.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Tonight is really fun,” she says. She twirls her fork in the pappardelle pasta of the Bolognese, splattering red sauce over her cheeks. “This is great. I want to do this more often.”

And the embers in your throat cool, vanish, are replaced by something vast and free.

“You really do need a new house,” Aemond says as he helps you clean up after dinner; Cadi has already abandoned you both for her Nintendo. “There are new constructions a little further down Route 401, between here and Lake Verret. Three bedrooms, two baths. Not a castle or anything, just the right size for you and Cadi. We can go look at them sometime.”

“I don’t need a whole new house. There are midcentury homes all over the place down here. They’re small, and they might need fixing up, but they’re a lot cheaper.” Then you add, because it sounds less pathetic: “And maybe it’s nice to have a house with some history, some character.”

“Old can be charming and quaint, sure. But brand new is better.”

“Why’s that?”

He smiles. “No ghosts.”

[rimbaud-fan-page]

Rimbaud's death, anime vs light novel: Why the change matters.

Rimbaud's death from the anime compared to the Light Novel is frankly, pathetic. I hate to say it, but it makes him seem pretty weak, especially when you consider just how powerful he is supposed to be.

Rimbaud's anime death was pretty clean

Boom

Bam

Pow

And then so on and so forth

Blah blah, I killed my partner, blah blah, im so cold, blah blah blah, oh lol nvm *dies*

Aside from the entire erasure of Verlaine, this scene differs wildly just in the way that Rimbaud died.

The Light Novel was far more bloody;

Stabby stabby. And all.

The main issue I have with the way Rimbaud dies in the Anime is it's very boring, hardly fitted to his unique character and role in the story. Just...getting punched real hard? BOOOOOO, OVERUSED. Whilst is a testament to how much this fight pushed Chuuya that he had to bring his fists into it, Chuuya punching someone to death isn't anything special.

The reason Rimbaud's Death via Scythe is so important is that he gave the scythe to the Previous Boss. He ordered for the Previous Boss to stab Chuuya through the arm, relinquishing control over that weapon. He caused his own death.

This is a perfect thematic parallel to how Rimbaud's plan also inadvertently caused his own death, his desperation to find Verlaine and solitary way of working is what meant he ended up 6 feet under. Rimbaud was a very lonely person, his ability reflects that solitude, as he says, his ability is his kingdom, only those he allows in may enter, and only those he allows out may leave. He allowed Verlaine in, and Verlaine is still in there, in a way, but his unwillingness to, for example, approach Mori about this issue, is what meant he made the brash decision to simply kill Chuuya, which didn't end well for him.

Rimbaud's violent approach, spurred by the fear of his friend's death and the aching need to get him back, is what caused his death. His own hand is the one that brought the scythe to that situation, that meant it was there for it to be stabbed through his chest, and so on and so forth, blood and blood and death.

I'm also sad we lost the pathetic visual of Rimbaud lying in a pool of his own blood, desperately trying to say to Chuuya what he had never gotten to say to Verlaine (and then his hand falling in the blood, crying and sobbing and throwing up).

Overall; the anime fucked up (again) and I am grumpy and also autistic

[winterlynightlystories]

A debt to pay

AU of My Nocturnal Serenade because I need someone to just go and save and be kind to that man! I need some comfort damn it😭 did I cry writing it? Yes!

PT 1 pt2 pt 3 pt 4

Tw; SPOILER FOR CHPT 236 YALL BEEN WARNED, temporary death, blood, gore

Please do not copy or steal my work

Sukuna/Male Reader but can be read as a gender-neutral reader this time.

In summary; the time has come for you to pay your debt to Yuji Itadori. And the one you'll have to save from your lover his the one and only Gojo.

~~~~

You have a debt to pay.

The words echoed in your head as you watched the fight. You didn't doubt your beloved, knowing damn well that Sukuna would win. It was just breaking your heart and soul to have to stand and watch him getting hurt again and again.

You have a debt to pay.

But at what cost? There has been no opportunity to pay the debt you owed Yuji Itadori. Which meant you'd have to save Gojo Satoru. Which meant betraying your one and only.

Well, it was a lie. You had the opportunity to save one of Yuji's friend’s sister, but didn't. Maki’s twin had died and you did nothing. You could let Gojo die to but…

You could feel anger and sadness battling in your heart. You didn't want to do it. The victory should be all to Sukuna. He should be able to savour the sight of the Honored One lying defeated and dead before him.

Instead, Sukuna would have to watch you make sure the man didn't die.

You have a debt to pay

Yet, somehow, you felt bad for Gojo Satoru. Maybe it was why you decided to spare him. The world had been cold and cruel to him. Gifted with power, he had to watch everyone he loved meet an early death. Gojo Satoru was a lone broken soul, you realized. He was more like you than you first thought.

He was the you that failed.

And it hurt even more, watching those two men fighting. This could have been you and Sukuna a thousand years ago if you had given up on him. If Sukuna had decided to not spare you.

You watched with fear as Gojo’s attack collided. Blue hitting Red.

The explosion was atrocious and devastating. You could hear the buildings being disintegrated, the streets cracking as the ground shook violently. Even if you had dust and debris in your eyes, you didn't close them. You needed to see, know if Sukuna had made it.

You felt pride and joy as you spotted his silhouette slowly walking toward you through the dust. In a heart beat, you were on him, arms wrapping around his waist to keep him up. Sukuna’s arms wrapped around your shoulders as he pressed his forehead against yours. You could feel the blood pouring from his missing forearm, from all the wounds he had, but you didn't care.

- “You did it. I'm so proud of you my love.” you whispered before sharing a kiss.

As the dust settled, you turned your attention toward Gojo Satoru. The sight was heartbreaking.

You could only see a pair of legs standing. Behind them, you could barely see Gojo’s upper body laying in a pool of his own blood. You felt your heart breaking as you heard the man’s friends and students crying, screaming, because they still could see nothing.

You have a debt to pay

You turned your attention on Sukuna. You both shared a look before Sukuna closed his four eyes and nodded. You cupped his face, giving a peck on his lips.

- “I am so proud of you. Thank you.”

In a heartbeat, you left your beloved’s side, quickly reaching Gojo Satoru. You kneeled, cradling his upper body in your arms as you began to heal him.

You stared into Gojo’s blue eyes, seeing surprise and curiosity in them. You simply smiled.

- “I have a debt to pay.” you just said, watching as Gojo’s lower body slowly regenerated. Slowly, making sure to not drop him, you took off your haori, putting it on him. “You fought admirably. You have more courage than I thought. You have my respect, Gojo Satoru.”

You felt him shake as he coughed, spitting blood as his guts regrew slowly and you healed his internal injuries.

- “I am sorry. Sorry that the world has been so cold and cruel to you. You deserve better and I hope one day you may find peace and be able to rest. You are a lot like me, believing that dying, killed by someone stronger than you is an honourable death but you are wrong. You shouldn't live thinking about Death. Live for your friends and loved ones. Fight for their safety, but don't run after danger and Death. You will only hurt them. Your Death will break their heart, their very soul.”

Satoru’s breath was short and pained, his eyes clouded by pain. You weren't even sure if he understood you or if his brain was making him hallucinate. With a gentle hand, you moved his bloody hair off his face.

- “Easy, deep breath. I ain't going to let you die. You will live Gojo Satoru. See this as a rebirth, a chance to start again. My debt being paid, me and Sukuna will leave. We won't be a problem anymore, but you'll have to watch out for Kenjaku.”

You watched how soaked in blood your haori was, yet didn't care. You could see Gojo’s limbs moving under it as they regrow.

You watched as Gojo closed his eyes, tears slowly rolling down his cheeks. You didn't know if they were from pain or your words and, for the first time in centuries, you felt compassion. That man cradled in your arms had given everything and still lost everyone. Since childhood he had been seen like a weapon, had a Damocles sword swinging above his head.

Yes.

The world had been horrible to Satoru since the start.

- “I am sorry.”

Again.

For what? Giving away the corpse of his best friend? For letting Sukuna accept the fight and almost kill him? For being behind the return of your beloved and the tragedies that followed?

You watched Satoru’s hand grabbing your forearm and squeezing as if thanking you. Your smile softened as you cradled Satoru closer to your chest, feeling the man slowly falling into a state of semi-consciousness.

You heard running and turned your head, watching Yuji Itadori and Fushiguro Megumi running towards you. From the corner of your eye, you saw how tense Sukuna was, but your beloved didn't move, trusting that no one would hurt you as you healed Gojo.

The first to reach you was Itadori.

- “Easy. Take him slowly.” You said, watching Itadori kneeling next to you, hands all over his teacher. You watched as tears rolled down his cheeks. “I’m not finishing with healing him, he is still hurt. Here, take him like I do.”

You helped the teen, slowly moving Gojo from your arms to his. You watched Itadori wrapping his arms possessively and protectively around his teacher. He closed his eyes, chin resting against Satoru’s head.

- “Thank you. Thank you for saving him.” He sobbed, not looking at you.

- “You are welcome.” you answered, hands still resting on Gojo.

Without a word, Megumi kneeled next to Itadori, looking at Gojo, then you. There was so much hate in those eyes. He didn't need to speak for you to understand how much he despised you. The kid probably had your murder on his mind.

Without a word, you got up once you finished healing Satoru and left. You joined Sukuna, wrapping your arms around each others. Silently, you pressed your head against his neck, feeling Sukuna kissing your hair.

Sukuna had won and you had paid your debt. Yet, you still felt bad, your heart stuck in a cold grip in your chest. You felt tears rolling down your cheeks, but they were quickly chased away by Sukuna's lips.

It was finally over, with no dead to grieve. So why did it still feel like it?

[waywardxwords]

Empty

Summary: Ten months ago, Sam threw himself and Lucifer into the cage. While Dean went off to live happily with Lisa and Ben, you couldn’t bring yourself to live a “normal” life. While on a hunt, your trail leads to Lansing, Michigan where you get your hopes up when you stumble upon the Sam Winchester in a dive bar. Instead, bumping into the man you had fallen for years before leaves you feeling empty. Pairing: Soulless!Sam x Female Reader Word Count: ~4.1k Warnings: IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18, PLEASE STOP READING. THIS IS RATED M FOR MATURE. Soulless!Sam, swearing, smut (p in v, unprotected), slightly angsty, sadness, feeling used…Sam is kind of a douchebag in this (hello, he has no soul) - I would also like to preface that I'm still new at this whole ~writing smut~ thing, so please be kind but I am 10000% open to critique/feedback!

A cloud of cigarette smoke pooled above the bar as your boots clicked upon the hardwood of a little dive bar in Lansing, Michigan. It had been ten months since everything changed–Sam in the pit as Lucifer’s vessel, and Dean off living the life he had always deserved with Lisa and Ben. You were happy for him, truly. But that life wasn’t your life. Once you knew about all that went bump in the night, there was no going back. Thankfully, you had found Alice McCaffrey. Bobby had introduced you when you told him you wanted to get back out there. “You don’t hunt alone,” he had warned you. Alice was a little older than you, but you seemed to gel well. It wasn’t like hunting with the Winchesters, but it was still fine. 

The two of you found a small, round table towards the back of the bar where there were billiard tables and took your place on the stools.

“I just don’t get it,” Alice gnawed a little at her bottom lip. “We tracked that trail all the way here…there’s no way it just goes cold.” There was plenty of evidence floating around that the Shapeshifter was here, in Lansing. And when you said ‘the’, you meant the one and only: first of its kind, Daddy Shapeshifter; the one who created all shapeshifters. 

“I mean, this thing has been alive for how many years?” You toyed with a round paperboard coaster in your hands. “He could just be that good. He’s used to evading hunters for centuries.”

“Yeah, I guess,” she grumbled, but you knew she wasn’t going to let it go. That was fine by you, but in the meantime…

“I’m gonna grab a beer, you want anything?” You asked her as you thumbed to the bar.

“Yeah, one for me, too. But none of that light shit…see if they have a Guinness or something,” she pulled out her laptop and her leatherbound journal. 

Just as you turned to walk towards the bar, you caught sight of him. Him. The him you had mourned (and were still mourning, if you were honest with yourself). Your breath caught in your throat as his tall, broad frame stood over a billiard table. The bright light above the table accented each of his features–nothing had changed, really, besides his hair maybe being a tiny bit longer and it looked like he had been working out again. His eyes grazed over the green baize fabric on the table to check his next move. 

You didn’t want to make a scene, but this wasn’t possible…there was no way in Hell this man could be standing in front of you. You quickly pulled your cell phone from your pocket and dialed the familiar number. You refused to pull your eyes away as you watched for any sudden movements.

“Bobby?” You asked when he answered after just the third ring. “You got any idea why I’m standing in a bar in Michigan looking at Sam Winchester right now?”

As if on cue, Sam seemed to feel your gaze as he pulled his eyes up from the table and found yours. 

“Balls,” Bobby grumbled as you listened to his drawl through the receiver of the phone. “Listen, it’s Sam…but I didn’t say anything ‘cause I didn’t want ya to get hurt…” you weren’t sure what that meant. Sam had already started his pace over to you. There was a smile upon his lips, but it seemed different. “Something’s different about him. He ain’t been the same since he got pulled out of Lucifer’s cage. You hear me?”

“Yeah, I hear ya, Bobby,” your words were soft. “I’ll, uh, I’ll call you later.” You hung up quickly just as he approached.

Your name fell from his lips, almost inquisitively. That same old Sam Winchester half-smile tugged at the corner of his lips. 

“Sam,” you breathed in return. It was difficult to keep Bobby’s warning in the back of your mind when the man you had hunted with for so long was standing just in front of you. While hunting with the brothers, you had never allowed your feelings to see the light of day. They were professional, and they had taught you so much about what looms in the dark. But you would be a liar if you said you had never felt butterflies when Sam smiled at you, laughed at your joke, or the way it felt when his fingers grazed your skin…

“Hey, wow, it’s been such a long time,” something did feel a bit off with his words, but even more so with his demeanor. You had mapped out those hazel eyes over the two years you spent hunting with the boys, and there was a lightness missing. They just felt empty. 

“Sam, how are you here? I saw you fall into the cage myself,” the thought alone made your eyes burn. Watching Sam and the strength he had to throw himself (and Lucifer) into the cage was devastating. 

“Yeah, uh, I don’t really know?” He chuckled softly. You searched for the light, but still couldn’t find it—even behind his laughter. “I just sorta woke up and I was back…”

“God, it’s so incredible to see you,” you couldn’t stop staring at him, afraid if you blinked, he’d disappear. “Is Dean here? Are you guys trying to figure out what brought you back?”

Sam broke his gaze from yours, but only for a second. He slipped his hands into his front jean pockets. “No, uh, I didn’t want to pull Dean back in. It’s rare to get an opportunity to get outta this life. He seems happy,” he nodded. You couldn’t help but notice the lack of emotion in his tone or on his face. “I, uh, I actually found some of my mom’s family. They have a compound here in Lansing, so I’ve been hunting with them.”

You tried to hide the way his words stung. He was so stoic, you didn’t want to look like a fool. But you were hurt…he had to have known you were still hunting. It made you doubt yourself—there were probably better people to hunt with and he had found them. You had always wondered if you were just a tagalong for the Winchesters; maybe they had just felt bad for you, after all. 

“Oh, nice,” you forced a smile and a small nod. “That’s good. Hunting with family is good…” your words trailed. 

Sam matched your nod. As if he realized he should be asking you about yourself, he continued with, “What about you? Are you hunting still?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you turned back to your hunting buddy as she watched cautiously from your table. “This is Alice McCaffrey,” you introduced as you stepped back to the table and Sam followed. “Alice, this is Sam Winchester. Alice and I have been hunting together."

Alice’s eyes widened. “The Sam Winchester?” She asked, incredulously. 

“The one and only,” he chuckled as he shook her hand.

“Wow,” Alice’s eyes drifted to you—you knew immediately what she was thinking: shifter? Demon? Shifter-demon?

“It’s really him,” you confirmed. While you hadn’t tested him yourself, you trusted Bobby. Bobby seemed very certain. He just also made it explicitly clear that Sam was different. 

“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” she smiled. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I just…I thought you were in the pit…”

“Yeah,” Sam tucked some strands of brown hair that had fallen forward back behind his ear. “I was, but somehow got a way out. We’re still trying to figure that out.” He explained. 

“That’s great,” she seemed a little hesitant, but that was why you loved Alice. Alice was wary of anyone and everyone; she didn’t trust at face value. There were still days you wondered if you had earned her full and complete trust. 

“What brings you to Lansing?” Sam shifted the topic, his eyes on you now. 

“We’ve been trailing a shifter,” you kept the topic brief. It felt weird not delving into all the details of your case, but you couldn’t quite shake the fact that Sam had been back and hadn’t tried to connect with you. 

“Oh, the original?” He looked between the two of you. Alice narrowed her eyes at Sam. 

“Yeah, are you hunting him too?” She questioned. 

He looked between the two of you, still emotionless. “Yeah, we got him. A few hours ago, my team had him killed.” 

“You…you managed to kill him?” Alice looked at him with the same level of shock as before. 

“Sam, he was the original shapeshifter. Like, father to all shifters,” you added in, wondering if maybe he didn’t realize.

“I know,” he looked between the two of you. “He was a beast. But we’re a team of six. We had it covered.”

Alicia glanced at you—you knew the look. She wasn’t sure of this Sam Winchester guy. 

“Hey,” Sam's fingertips grazed your hand. “Would you wanna get outta here? Some place we can sit and catch up. Somewhere quiet?” Between his fingertips on your flesh, and the way his voice had dropped lowly, you shuddered internally. 

Somehow, you still seemed hesitant. Had this been ten months ago, you would have leapt out of your chair and been halfway to the door by now. But it wasn’t. And this version of Sam just felt different. You pushed past the hesitation. “Yeah, okay,” you nodded. 

“Let me just go let the guys know I’ll be back in a while,” he thumbed back to the billiard tables where you finally noticed an older man, bald and eyes that you felt like could see through your soul. You managed a quick nod before he headed back that way. 

“Can I say something and you promise it won’t piss you off?” Alicia asked as soon as Sam was out of earshot. 

You were fairly certain you knew what she had to say, but you pulled your eyes from Sam’s back and looked back at her. “Of course.”

“I listened to you go on and on about this Sam Winchester guy. Even when you didn’t realize you were talking about him. You talk about him in your sleep,” she emphasized. Warmth crept up your neck and into your cheeks. You hadn’t realized you were sleep-talking about him… “But the Sam Winchester you’ve been mourning for almost a year? Girl, that’s not him.” Her eyes bore into you. 

“I know he seems a little…rough around the edges,” you tried to reason as your eyes found him talking to the bald man in the corner. The man had returned his gaze to you as Sam spoke. “But we have no idea what happened to him in that cage. That would change anyone, Alicia.” You looked back to your hunting buddy. 

“I get that, I do,” she agreed. “I’m just asking you to be careful. A lot can change in ten months. Especially when we’re talking about someone coming back from one of the darkest depths of Hell…if not, the darkest depth of Hell.”

“I’ve got it handled,” you watched him as he moved back towards your table. “I’ll meet you back at the motel later.” You managed a quick smile and hopped off of your bar stool. 

“Ready?” Sam asked as you approached. You nodded once, but couldn’t help the feeling of the bald man watching you. Sam began to lead you away from the table. 

“It was nice meeting you,” Alicia practically yelled over the sounds of the bar. Sam nodded once nonchalantly back at her. 

“Yeah, you too,” it was strange, but then Sam’s hand snaked around yours and held it in his palm, and any uncertainty you had in your gut went out the window. 

When Sam suggested going some place quiet, you had assumed that would be a café or diner; somewhere public, but where you could get caught up. It surprised you when he pulled into a motel parking lot and had you wait in the car. He wasn’t staying here…why was he getting a room? You were smarter than this, but somehow Sam Winchester had always had a way of emitting a haze around you; a haze that more than clouded your judgment. 

“Why a motel room?” You finally managed to ask as you stood behind him while he unlocked the door. 

“I just figured it would be nice to get caught up…” you noticed his eyes trailed down the front of you. He was looking at you in a way he had never done so blatantly before; a way you had always imagined in your mind, but never experienced. Your throat ran dry as he opened the door and held it open for you to step through. Suddenly you felt nervous. 

“I really missed you, Sam,” you felt a lump of emotion knit together in your throat. Your eyes moved up his torso to find his hazel gaze. A small smile pulled at the corners of his lips. 

A surprise to you, his arms snaked around you and pulled you into his chest. “I missed you, too,” you couldn’t shake the feeling that Sam was saying it because he knew he was supposed to. 

“Sam…” you started cautiously. There were two parts of you, and they were at war: on one hand, you had wanted this moment to happen for so long–you had willed for Sam to come back. But the other part of you had so many questions that you felt needed answered before you could fully open up to him. “How long have you been back?”

“Just about ten months,” he answered with little-to-no hesitation. He seemed a little surprised when your eyes widened.

You moved away from him to sit on the edge of one of the double beds in the room. Your eyes found the multicolored carpet that lined the motel room floor. “You’ve been back almost the entire time we thought you had been gone, and you didn’t call?”

“It’s…complicated,” he breathed out as he moved to sit next to you on the bed. “Things aren’t like they were ten months ago,” he tried to explain. You kept your eyes on the carpet as he spoke. “Things are different now. The Campbells are different…” there was that word again: different. Your eyes didn’t budge until your name fell as a whisper from his lips. “I really did miss you.”

You watched as his eyes trailed over you once more. Across your face, down your neck…you felt the heat rising again. “I feel like I’ve had this dream a million times–you coming back. And now it’s real, and it just feels…”

“I know,” his words were soft again as his body shifted towards you.

Before your brain could argue with your heart again, you felt your hands pull at the collar of his plaid button-down shirt. His face moved closer until your lips crashed against each other in a hasty motion. His movements were quick, but thorough, as his hands traveled to your waist. He pulled at the hem of your cotton t-shirt until his fingers slipped underneath and grazed against the flesh of your hips, causing goosebumps to bubble on the surface of your skin. 

Your hands tangled in the locks of hair at the back of his neck just as his hands lifted you and pulled you onto his lap so your legs straddled his waist. His fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt again until you instinctively raised your arms and broke where your lips met as he tugged the garment over your head. His fingers tangled in your hair once more as he stood up with your legs secured around his waist and turned to lay you on the bed. Once your eyes fluttered to see him pulling his button-down off, your brain kicked back into gear.

“Sam,” you breathed. He was back hovered over you now, his fingertips tracing a line of goosebumps down your neck, then your clavicle, to the tops of your breasts. Your breath hitched in your throat once more. “Sam, should we…are we doing this?” You were still trying to wrap your head around the idea that this was happening.

He paused for a moment and looked back down at you; your eyes tried to find old Sam once more–even just a glimmer. But you were coming up empty, yet again. 

“I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” his emphasis on the word ‘long’ made your heart and stomach flutter simultaneously. “I should have before. But I was stupid, and then I was saying ‘yes’ to Lucifer, and I never thought I’d see you again.”

Your brain wanted to remind him that he could have called you, hell, he could have shown up at your doorstep and you would have welcomed him back with open arms. But your heart decided against it as he leaned closer to your lips.

“I thought maybe you wanted this too,” he breathed as his lips gingerly touched against yours once more.

Words failed you, so instead you reached up and tangled your fingers in his hair once more. The way you moved your lips against his gave him your answer.

His fingers strategically moved behind you, expertly unclasping the black bra that constrained your breasts. With a quick flick of his fingers, you felt the material relax and the straps slipped off of your shoulder blades. Your eyes found his once more–the only thing you saw was want and lust. 

You relished in the feeling of his lips as they trailed from your lips to your neck, sucking on the skin just under your earlobe. You closed your eyes at the sensation; your heart allowed your fingers to move through his hair, down to the nape of his neck. He moved against you in a way that warmed you to your core. You hadn’t realized Sam had moved his fingers down to the metal button clasp on your jeans. His fingers very quickly and skillfully moved so the button popped through the denim material and loosened. As he worked, his lips trailed down to your breast and attached to your nipple. His tongue moved over the already hardened bud, massaging in a way that elicited a moan from the back of your throat.

The break of the suction of his lips from your skin evoked a pop that echoed to your ears. In one swift motion, he pulled your jeans from your hips, bringing your underwear with it. He took a moment to stand at the edge of the bed. You watched as the muscles in his fingers, hands and forearms flinched as he worked his belt and jeans from their own metal clasp. He pulled his jeans down along with his boxers until they were at his ankles and he could step out of them.

“So fucking sexy,” he breathed. Your breath hitched once more–that wasn’t something your imagination had come up with when you had thought of this moment. The burn from the pink glow you had felt on more than one occasion tonight crept back up your skin once more, but this time you couldn’t hide.

“Sam,” your breath hitched in your throat, yet again.

Sam moved back over you at that moment, no additional words exchanged. You felt his length harden just between your legs upon your thigh. Your eyes closed once more as he kissed you with a force you had never felt before–you couldn’t place it. It wasn’t passion, it was need. 

His hands moved yours just above your head so they were bent at your elbows. With one hand, he clasped them there. His other hand moved down the side of your face, down your breasts until they wrapped around his cock. You felt his knee move between your thighs to part them. His hand shifted until his fingers deftly found your center. Sam’s index finger slipped between your folds, finding out for certain just how excited you were for this moment.

“You’re already so wet for me, baby,” his breath tickled just below your earlobe as he whispered. He picked up the pace with his fingers as he rubbed your swelling nub with his thumb. He moved in small circles that made you begin to grind your hips with his motions. Without warning, he plunged a finger inside of you once, twice, three times before he added a second finger.

A gasp escaped your lips as you pressed your head back into the mattress even further, your mouth agape. “Jesus, Sam,” you couldn’t help the words as they toppled out between your lips. After a few more thrusts, he reached down to pump his hand between his legs again. Without his touch, your brain started working once more. “D-Do you have a condom?” You didn’t mean to stutter, but you were lucky to even get words strewn together that made any sense at this point.

“It’s alright, I’ll pull out,” he kissed just below your ear on your jawline. Goosebumps flooded the surface of your skin once more as his stubble trailed over you. Your brain didn't have a moment to respond.

As he lined himself up against your center, you opened your eyes to find his gaze. His eyes were dark–a dark you had never noticed before. The normal flecks of gold, green, and blue were suddenly a darker yellow, forest green and gray. It was beautiful–lustful, even–but you didn’t see any emotion. They were still just empty.

Your mouth fell agape as he pushed into you, releasing your hands above his head so he could reach down and pull your legs and hook your ankles around his back. Instinctively, you moved your hips against him, meeting him with each movement he made.

Sam ducked his head so his lips could connect with the sweet spot he had found just above your clavicle. You couldn’t be sure, but by the feeling you knew it would leave a mark; you didn’t care. You focused on the raw feeling of him inside you, the way he grunted with each thrust. You flattened your palms up his back, the feeling of his muscles under your hands adding to the pooling warmth in the pit of your belly.

Strategically, Sam reached between the two of you and pressed his thumb to your clit once more. The continuous motion of the small circles sent a shudder over you.

“Sam…” you warned. 

He nipped at the skin below your ear. “I know, baby. Let me get you there,” the words dropped from his lips in a whisper once more.

You moved your hips to the rhythm of his hand and his thrusts. The muscles in your abdomen tightened and trembled as he pushed you over the edge. The pace of his movements picked up as he removed his hand and gripped your hips again–he pumped in and out of you with such fervor, you thought you might break.

With a shallow grunt, he quickly pulled out as he found his release–and suddenly, you felt empty.

Sam removed himself from the bed quickly and retreated to the small bathroom to clean up. As he came back, he handed you a towel. While you never could have known what being with Sam would be like, exactly…this wasn’t what you had expected. 

“That was…” your voice trailed off as you tried to catch your breath. You rolled to your side and propped yourself up on your elbow as you watched him. Instinctively, you pulled the rustled sheet up just under your chin to cover yourself.

Sam’s eyes found you as he pulled up his boxers, and then his jeans. His chest heaved only slightly as he got dressed. “Yeah, that was nice,” a smile pulled on his lips. “I’m glad we bumped into each other again.” Your throat felt dry again. Words failed you; you didn’t know what to say to that. He pulled his shirt over his head and fixed some of the buttons. “I paid through the night, so you can crash here, if you want,” he gestured to the room.

“You’re…you’re leaving?” You tried to shove the emotions bubbling up so they went back down. It felt like you were underwater–Sam was different. There was no hiding it or trying to deny it anymore. 

He looked back at you quizzically, as if he couldn’t understand why you were asking him this, but then turned his attention back to his boots as he tied the laces. “Uh, yeah. We have a lot of work to wrap up, and you’re just passing through,” his words trailed off a little, but it didn’t seem to be because he felt bad. “It really was good seeing you again.”

He managed one more small smile before he grabbed his remaining belongings and walked for the door.

The emotions finally bubbled over, but all you felt was empty.

A/N: Please, please don’t hate me. If you love Soulless!Sam with zero feeling and emotion, then this might be your jam. If you prefer loving, kind, caring Sam–you’re probably wanting my head on a platter. This is part one, I have a part two in the works and I promise I’ll fix everything <3

[agi-ppangx]

broken promises (lee minho x gn!reader)

tags: post-apocalypse!au, angst, hurt without comfort

warnings: mentions of death, blood and wounds

A/N: this is something ive never done before so please bear with me😶‍🌫️ also eunji is a made up character solely for this fic and she isnt based on anyone in particular ^^ i hope you'll enjoy my little experiment and please remember that feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated🫶🏽

the cold wind lazily made its way though your hair, bringing you back to reality. you looked around at the disaster in front of you. the city was destroyed and almost deserted, only a little people left to fight. the rest of them went south - it was told the life there would be better, but you didn’t really believe it. nowhere was life any better now. you noticed a woman with a little girl walking down the street. she made eye contant with you - her face was covered in burn scars and a few fresh wounds. she threw you a sad smile, seeing you weren’t doing any better. the girl waved at you, her arm covered in blood as well. you tried to wave back, but it came out a bit wobbly and you sighed, defeated. suddenly you felt a gentle tap on your arm. you abruptly threw your head up only to see eunji standing in the doorway. she took a step forward, sitting next to you. you took her hand in yours and rubbed it with your thumb. “how are you feeling?” you asked her softly. “i’m okay, don’t worry.” you hummed at her words and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

it was truly a miracle that she was alive. you had met eunji a few months before, she was wanderng around a small town nearby without anything to eat or drink. she slept where she could and was constantly running away, scared that someone will eventually kill her. you didn’t have heart to leave her alone and decided to help and protect her. she was unsure at the beginning, but you weren’t surprised. you took your time to earn her trust, letting he know with your actions that you wanted only to make her safe. your heart ached, looking at her, so scared and vulnerable, yet wise and independent. you thought to yourself that no twelve-year-old shouldn’t be so mature for their age. she was a kid, she should be playing around with her friends and not worrying about a thing. after a few weeks though, she finally opened herself up in front of you, letting you sooth her aching soul and create a shelter for her. she told you about her past and about her mother, whom she lost contact with at the very beginning of the apocalypse. you started treating her like your little sister and made a promise to yourself to stay with her to help her find her mum and make sure she grows up in a safe place, away from hunger, poverty and death.

“what are you thinking about?” eunji asked you suddenly, seeing your worried gaze. you shook your head and smiled faintly. “future. i want us to finally be happy,” you whispered, holding back tears that were starting to pool in your eyes. she hugged you tightly, burying her head in your chest. “as long as you’re with me then i’m happy,” she said simply and you giggled, sniffing. how could a kid be so wise? “oh, also,” eunji sat straight again and looked you in the eyes. “minho woke up.”

you ran through the corridors of the building, trying to get to minho’s room as quickly as possible. on your way you bumped into jisung and he grabbed your arms, steadying you so you wouldn’t fall. “whoa, careful. are you going to see minho?” you nodded fratically, panting. he smiled at you. “alright, go. he’s waiting for you.”

you quietly entered the room, not wanting to startle minho. you closed the door and heard him grumble in pain. “is that my guardian angel? am i in heaven?” he uttered when he finally noticed you and you giggled at that. “yah, don’t you dare talking about dying. i did everything i could to save you, dummy,” you sat at the edge of his bed, runing your fingers through his hair. he leaned into your touch, closing his eyes and humming in content. “i missed you,” he whispered. “can you give me a kiss?” you cooed at him and leaned over to place a gentle peck on his dry, cracked lips, savouring the moment that you missed so much. “alright lover boy, we have to change your bandages,” you said when you broke the kiss, caressing his cheek. you got up to gather all the stuff and came back to the bed, placing everything on the bedside table and turning to face minho again. “can you sit up?” he nodded and using his hands, tried to get up a bit. you helped him and soon he was sitting with his back pressed to the wall. you lifted up his shirt, ripping out the old bandage from his tummy and gently disinfecting his wound with the last bottle of iodine left after the treatments you had performed on the survivors in your camp. minho hissed at the feeling and you whispered a small “i’m sorry”, trying to be as gentle as possible. “how is everyone doing?” he asked you and you shrugged your shoulders. “well, it depends. some of us still haven’t recovered and we lost a few people as well…” you mumbled, tears welling in your eyes. minho took your hand in his, stopping your actions, and carefully brought you to his chest, bringing you comfort. “it’s okay, at least we have each other, hm?” he responded in this soft voice of his and you wiped your eyes, nodding. you came back to changing his bandages soon after, trying to calm down. minho intently analized your face, seeing all the worry and sorrow in your eyes. he hated to see you like this. he felt really protective over you and wanted nothing but the best for you. minho always made sure to guide you safely through the tough times and provide you with food and clean clothes. the only things he wanted for you was to be safe and sound, just like you wanted for eunji. “when we finally go south, i’ll build you a house there and we’ll settle down.” you stopped in your tracks when you heard his dreamy voice. “when we go south?” you muttered and minho’s eyes widened, looking at your furrowed brows. “yeah, you know, when i recover we can pack our stuff and leave the city. it’s destroyed anyway, so why even stay here,” he reasoned, confused by your reaction. “i told you so many times i’m gonna stay here, i have to take care of eunji,” you responded, feeling as the tears started to make their way down your face. you didn’t dare to look him in the eyes, scared that if you do, your heart will shatter into million of pieces. your hands started shaking, so you rushed youself and messily placed the new bangade over minho’s wound. you started gathering your stuff, wanting nothing but to leave the room and let yourself calm down.

minho always suggested the two of you going south, he wanted to do it even before the apocalypse was over, but every time you told him you had to stay in the city, to help the survivos and take care of eunji. you couldn’t just leave her here and taking her with you would mean she would mean she wouldn’t be able to find her mum. you also wanted to just simply stay where you were born, not having the heart to leave behind the place you grew up in. was is selfish? perhaps, but in times like these you had to consider yourself first in some cases. “yn, come on, i thought we talked this though,” minho started, his firm tone sending a shiver down your spine. “‘talked this through?’ minho, what the fuck? do you even listen to me?” you hissed through gritted teeth, feeling your cheeks grow warmer from the anger builidng inside you. “i told you i’m not gonna leave this place, not now, not in a month, never! i simply wanna stay here and help to rebuild the city,” you continued, your voice started breaking in the middle of each word and your vision was getting more and more blurry. “i have to take care of eunji as well.” it was minho’s time to scoff. “really? you’re still talking about eunji? there’s so many people here that could take care of her, it’s not like you’re the only one who could help her,” he responded angrily, his face scrunching at the pain from his wounds. “but i promised her! i told her i’ll help her and she trusted me!” you cried, screaming at the top of your lungs. “she should learn that people sometimes break the promises, that’s how life works!” you looked at him in disbelief, shocked that these words left his mouth. you looked at him and you swore everyone in the world could hear your heart sink. you couldn’t believe he said that, but you finally saw his true self. “people break the promises, huh?” you whispered, fidgeting with the ring on your finger. after a moment of hesitation you took it off and threw it at minho. “then i’m gonna break one too,” you stated, heading towards the door. “yn, wait! i didn’t mean it like that!” you heard minho scream, pleading, but you ignored him, shutting the door behind you and heading to find eunji. at least one promise won’t be broken.

taglist !

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[captainpulisic]

turned my bed into a sacred oasis - c. pulisic

credit and thank you to my beloved miss belize for helping me with the plot & dialogue. I owe you many orange slices. not technically a sequel to this but I see this being in the same universe word count: 2.6 k gif credits to myself

they’re delicate touches as your fingers trace mindless shapes over his chest. you’re quite content in your current position, head laid on christians shoulder and a leg thrown over his. your bodies were still slightly sweaty, the sheets pooling around both your waists. you get lost tracing the lines of his tattoos, leaving an occasional kiss on his shoulder. he answers by letting out soft hums of approval.

you trace a few hearts and both your initials across his collarbones until you dip a little lower, landing where his actual heart is. feeling the low drum of his heartbeat brings a smile to your face. you flatten your palm and apply light pressure, “your hearts going kinda crazy right now.”

“yeah well in case you forgot, we literally just had sex.” he lets out a breathless laugh. there's a pinch to your bare hip and light kiss to the top of your head. there’s only sincerity when he adds, “and i’m positive my heart is always like that when i’m around you.”

you’re torn between rolling your eyes at his clicheness and kissing him silly for his romanticism. you settle with a soft whisper, “i’ve missed you.”

“missed you more.” he begins to mirror your tender touches, pressing you closer to him. soon enough, you feel one of his hands trail along your lower back while the other catches your moving hand- the sneaky one that had caused his heart to thump faster than usual. automatically, your fingers intertwine and he gives them three gentle squeezes. “and i’m so happy I get to sleep next to you, again.”

“really?” satisfied with your current predicament, you’re too comfortable in christians arms to try to look up at him. you settle with opening one eye and leaving another kiss on his shoulder.

“are you kidding me?” his hand travels to your waist, leaving another squeeze. this earns him another kiss from you. his voice has gotten softer, more timid. “I don’t think i’d be a very good boyfriend if I wasn't happy about that, y/n.” 

you feel yourself drifting to sleep, content to have christian back in your bed- both sexually and literally. snuggling deeper into his side, you don’t notice how stiff he’s gotten. 

you feel him take a deep breath, “I am a good one, right?”

your brain and body are exhausted, so you’re not really processing the conversation. you stifle a yawn and absent-mindedly ask, “a good what?”

there’s a pause before he says- well whispers, “boyfriend.”

you freeze for a moment. that’s all it takes for your mind to wake up and your eyes to fully open. 

“what?” you’re offended on his behalf, immediately sitting up. the cold air nips at you, yet you’re too startled to care. christian whines at the sudden loss of your body warmth, instantly missing your touch. he tries to coax you back into laying down, avoiding your hard stare as his arms try to ease you back into position. much to his dislike, you’re swatting these attempts away and are searching his face for some sort of explanation. you’re baffled, “why would you even ask me that? what?”

he’s looking everywhere in the room but you. 

you scoff, “of course you’re a good boyfriend, you’re an amazing one.” 

“alright, then.” he bites his lip, somberly nodding. he leans back onto the pillow, giving no further explanation.

as confused as ever, you shake his arm. he looks like he clearly doesn’t want to talk about it but you can’t let it go. minutes ago you both were happy and on some sort of love high, and the idea of him going to sleep sad makes you want to die. you won’t allow it, christian deserves to always be happy. you probe, “why did you ask?”

“forget it, it was just me being stupid.” he sighs, self-pityingly shaking his head. he takes another moment before adding, “it’s just stupid.”

“hey, it is not stupid.” you reach over and hold his hands in yours. you start to kiss his knuckles and work your way down to his palms. his shell begins to crack, and he finally meets your eye. another kiss to his wrist, “just help me understand, i’m a little lost.”

he pauses, trying to choose the right words. you leave another kiss on his palm, encouraging him to speak. another sigh, “I just don’t know if i’m doing any of this right, or if i’m doing a good job at it.”

another pause.

he says it all very slowly, carefully choosing his words. “i’ve just never really had anything like this before. i’m not sure i’m being enough for all of the shit included.”

“hmm?” you encourage him to elaborate.

“you know, i’ve never had anything become so serious, with anyone.” it’s a sad smile, yet it doesn’t fail to absolutely shatter your heart. his eyes can’t seem to look directly at you, averting their gaze to the ceiling. the way he’s biting down hard on his lip makes you sure he’ll draw up blood. “i’ve had relationships but nothing official, really. it’s never been able to get as far as we have.”

the atmosphere had gotten very sullen and you’re sure you’re as close to tearing up as he is. hearing these deep, tucked away concerns tugs at your heartstrings and makes you feel horrible that he’d ever even felt any sadness. plus, the way his voice was beginning to shake was not helping. you leave a few more kisses on his wrists, your fingers begin to rub small circles on his palms.

christian continues, “no one thinks it’s worth it, having to put up with this life. i mean, you’ve seen how it is. the scrutiny and rumors and lack of privacy and everyone having an opinion on my life. no one will put up with that, no one will want to.”

“hey,” your frown grows more prominent. you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. you let go of his hands to cup the sides of his face, forcing him to finally look at you. “now who got those stupid thoughts stuck in your head, I have to go beat them up.”

he lets out a soft laugh at this, barely letting the side of his mouth quirk up. it gratifies you, but it’s not enough. you need to see him utterly and completely happy before either of you are allowed to go to sleep. 

neither you nor christian had to answer your question, though. you both knew the answer as soon as you asked it. all he could do was cast his eyes down at the space between the both of you, his lips turning downward, again. he was thinking of her. you didn’t like using her name, it humanized the enemy. yes, anyone who caused christian a fraction of sadness was your enemy for life. and you didn’t know much about her, only that she had been here before you and hurt christian beyond words. she’d used him and left him and left you with the task of picking up the pieces of his heart.

“I thought that what I had with,” you see him hesitate, like a whole new bubble of sadness might be getting caught up in his throat. you offer him a small smile and a tiny nod, pushing him to continue. “what we had was real, that I was finally going to be in a serious, adult relationship but she just left. she told me how it was all too much shit and that no other girl would put up with this life- that none of it was worth it. I guess I took it as me, maybe, not being worth it.” 

“she never deserved you or your big heart, really. she was an idiot because none of what she said is true.” you answer within a heartbeat, moving your hands from his face to his hair. running your fingers through it and lightly scratching at his scalp, you hope it brings him a sort of comfort and dispels those horrible thoughts from his head. reassuring him, “and she doesn't deserve to still make you so sad.”

“I don't get sad over her anymore. being with you makes it clear to me that what I felt with her is nothing compared to what I feel when i’m with you.” he shakes his head, confused at your implications. the last thing he wanted was for you to think it was her he was hung up on. it was her words and dissatisfaction with his lifestyle that had put insecurities in his heart. “I think I just get sad over how she might be right. what if, maybe, she and you deserve something easier, something better?”

“christian, no.” you try to shut down his negative thoughts. “she was wrong and she shouldn’t be so inside your head.”

“but it hasn’t just been her,” he whines, finally letting civility out the window and huffing like a petulant child. mumbling on, “i’ve also had flings- or whatever you want to call them- before, but nothing too serious. none of them have stayed, or even tried to. what if it’s because they all know my life is hectic and complicated, what if they don’t want to deal with it?”

“no,” you repeat, trying to get a word in edgewise.

“it’s true!” he’s on a roll now, spilling out all the fears and self-doubt that he’d tried to bury deep inside himself. “and I get it, I do. i’ve never wanted to put anyone in the position of getting harassed simply for being with me.”

“christian-”

“and I know it’s not just that stuff, I know it’s my fault, too.” cue the self-deprecating eye roll and shaky breath. his sad smile has been ever so present tonight and it’s gut wrenching. he babbles on, “I have to train and travel all the time, I have to be focused on my career. it’s like, i’d never have time to be a good enough boyfriend. I get so scared because what if it’s not enough?”

you try once more, “chris-”

he lets out another frustrated groan, “i’ve never wanted to throw caution to wind this badly, i’ve never wanted something to last as much as I do this. i’m helpless and I can only hope that I am being a good boyfriend because it’s what you deserve.”

me? when had we started talking about me?

all you can do is point to yourself, “what I deserve?” 

“yeah, you!” he scoffs. “you’re the best person I know and you deserve someone who can give you something more normal, something more easy. I know that’ll be hard to get with me.”

you’re able to squeeze in a ‘screw easy’ amongst his ranting.

“i’ve been pretty good at not going too far with anyone, because I know it’ll never work. there’s no point in any of it. with you, I can’t seem to do that. I selfishly want you, and I keep praying that might be enough.” there’s another shaky breath, “but what if she was right? what if it all becomes too much for you? I don’t think i’d ever get over you leaving.”

god, just tear your heart into two. you’re sure it’d hurt less.

“don’t think about her, or of the untrue, idiotic things she said. you’re the one who deserves someone good.” you manage to level your voice, speaking with only love and admiration towards him. yet, all you really want to do is scream and curse her out for all the damage she’d done to this beautiful boy. he deserved everything good in the world and you intended to prove that to him. “loving you and being here, in this bed, with you is the greatest privilege of my life. I must’ve been a holy saint in my past life, who did a lot of charity, for me to deserve you in this life.”

“y/n,” he tries to cut you off this time. you raise your finger to his lips, silencing him. in return, he playfully bites the tip of your finger but nonetheless remains quiet. 

you continue, “I would endure all that ‘shit’ ten times over if it meant I got to come home to you every night. I would go through worse, horrible things if it meant we’d be lying in this bed as you told me about your day. I don’t think there’s anything in this world that would stop me from wanting to be with you. hey, don't give me that look- i’m serious. the only way you’re getting rid of me is if you go into witness protection or something.”

he averts his stare to the ceiling as he becomes a blushing mess. this is too much, he wants to blurt out. your love is so much and I don’t think I deserve it. I don’t want to taint it.

“i’m pretty sure i’m going to love you forever. so, all I ask is you let me and keep letting me until then.” it’s a mere whisper when you add, “please?”

you see him internally struggle for a moment. you worry that your words didn’t get through to him and he’ll continue to stay in his puddle of self doubt. his eyes shift between your own, as if pondering over everything you’d just laid out on him. he cracks a smile before it’s gone all too soon. yet, there's a mischievous spark in his eye, only you could see. 

“y/n, I need you to be honest with me,” he feigns a serious look. raising an eyebrow, those big brown eyes search your face for a moment. after a moment, he squints, “are you just saying these things to get into my pants?”

you snort before you could even try to stop it.

“hey, im serious.” he pouts, still committed to his solemn expression. “you should know that I don’t put out so easily.”

“well I don't think you’re going to like what i’m going to say next,” you trail off. one quick glance and it’s obvious his hair is more disheveled than ever- and that bit of smudged lipstick on the corner of his mouth isn't helping his case. you look down to where the sheets are still pooled around you both. from the corner of your eye, you can easily identify where both of your clothes had been discarded without a second thought. your fingers reach out to tap the various hickeys left on his collarbone, “but I think you do.”

this made him laugh. it was one of those happy, boyish laughs- the contagious kind. therefore, you were quick to join in, ignoring the strong urge to leave a kiss in the crease by his eyes. in the midst of the laughter, christian has gotten the upper hand and managed to ease you back into his arms. as he positions you to lay on top of him, you rest your chin on his chest, eyes shining bright as you peer up at him. 

he smiles at you, his eyes warm and soft as they travel over your face. “being here in this bed, with you, it’s the only place I wanna be, too. just being with you makes everything seem worth it, you make it seem worth it.”

“let’s not dwell, yeah?” your laughter calms and you sigh, letting your fingers trace softly over the ink on his chest. you leave a kiss there, giving him your brightest smile. “we’re together, the last thing we should be is sad.”

rather than responding, he leans down to leave a quick kiss on your lips and nods in agreement. it’s soft and sweet and shy, and as lovely as every kiss he gives you. that night (like every other night), there’s no other place that he'd rather be, than in that bed wrapped up in you.

feedback is greatly appreciated. feeling very iffy abt this one so please be gentle with it.

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Alicent spanking reader for the bingo card? Congrats on 150!

Crime and Punishment (Alicent Hightower x Reader)

Summary: The Queen and you get along wonderfully. After all, the strongest friendships are based on shared interests.

Warnings: Spanking. Masochism, mentions of self harm. A bit of blood. Reader and Alicent being sad lesbians. The author is a recovered catholic.

A/N: How many times can someone who has not received a spanking write a spanking? Two, it turns out. Thanks for being patient!

Some nights, you are not in a good place. Not mentally. It’s as if you are your worst enemy, falling back into damaging habits and patterns, and then hating yourself for it.

Before, you used to bite at your lips until they bleed, picking at the loose skin there. You would nitpick at your face, pinching every imperfection. Punish yourself with baths so cold your teeth would chatter, wash your skin with the roughest rags, until your skin was red and raw.

You know it’s unhealthy. A bad coping mechanism, that leaves you injured and exhausted, but lets you sleep after it.

That was before meeting Queen Alicent. Really meeting her. You had been, of course, aware of who she was. Loved by the people, married to the King, daughter of Otto Hightower. But you hadn’t met her yet.

Hadn’t noticed how her hands would pick at her cuticles and nail beds until they bleed, tugging the small bits of skin until they were bloody and raw. Hadn't noticed the way she wore a particularly sharp medallion of the Seven Pointed Star, and how she would cling to it, so tightly her knuckles turned white, sharp edges digging into her skin.

When you arrived at court, you watched. And Alicent watched back. As two dancers in a well-rehearsed piece, you circled each other, pushing and pulling. Both of you were aware of the unhealthiness of your behavior, how dangerous the game you played could turn. Yet, neither of you could resist the temptation of raising the stakes.

On nights like these, now, you come to her. You drop your dress, letting it pool at your feet. You pass her the wooden hairbrush she uses every night before bed.

The vanity is cold as you brace your hands against it, seeing the despair in your eyes reflected in the mirror. It’s weird, but it’s one of the conditions she has set for this agreement of yours. You must look at yourself in the eyes, face your fears. Watch yourself break and get built up again.

“I feel bad.” Alicent says, as she steps behind you. She remains fully clothed, the seven pointed star necklace still in place. Her finger runs down your spine, softly. The room is warm enough for you to be comfortable naked, but you shudder anyway. “I dislike hurting you.”

“I know.” You answer, meeting her eyes through the mirror. Her expression is solemn. She grabs the hairbrush. “I am sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Alicent frowns. “I dislike it more when you hurt yourself.” She squeezes your bare shoulder, gently. You hear the words, even when she doesn’t say them. This way, I can keep you safe, her big brown eyes seem to say. This way, I can control how much you hurt.

It’s a respite you desperately need. There is something about the pain that you find freeing, something that fixes you when you feel bad about yourself. And the Seven know that sometimes, you go overboard with it.

Who could blame you? When something feels good, when something feels right and distracts you from the bad things in life, it’s only natural to crave more.

Alicent rubs the hairbrush against your back, the side with the bristles against your naked skin. You shiver. The pressure she applies it’s just enough to make you squirm, but it doesn’t feel painful yet. It feels as if someone is scratching your back just a little too rough.

The hairbrush goes lower. Right on top of your hips. Alicent’s hands, on your stomach, encouraging you to arch your back and expose your bottom. You whine. You can’t take the teasing, tonight. It’s not a game to you, but a need. If she delays it a bit more, you are afraid you might break, shatter and explode into a million pieces.

As if sensing your mood, the hairbrush descends even more, harshly scratching at your cheeks. You fight the urge to tuck your hips in, to wiggle and make yourself a smaller target.

You hear the smack before you feel it. A harsh, dull sound that makes your thighs tremble, straining not to move away and break position. The ache comes next, a flash of hot red exploding against your skin. Warmth. You yowl.

Alicent shushes you, rubbing between your shoulder blades and forcing your head to hang lower.

“The guards can’t hear.” She says, as her other hand urges your hips to tilt back more, instead of going inwards. Her hand settles just above your mound, keeping you in position. It’s an uncomfortable stretch, your naked breasts nearly touching the vanity, forehead pressed against the mirror. “You have to be quiet, or we will be caught.”

You whimper, pitifully. You know it wouldn’t look good, for either of you. Alicent and you haven’t crossed that line yet, but you toe it often. Just tethering on the edge of sexual as you are, it would be a scandal if you were to be found in the Queen’s rooms, naked and with her hands all over you.

Darkly, sometimes you wish it happened already. At least that way, she would recognize this, whatever that is growing between the two of you. But Alicent is too focused on pretending dutifulness that she can’t allow herself to want something that's not right in society's eyes.

Alicent looks around for a few seconds, eyes shifting from the objects in her vanity to your discarded clothes. She is looking for something to keep you quiet, as she often does. But today, nothing seems to please her. Finally, she takes off her necklace, and holds it in front of your lips. You open up, and she presses the pendant between your teeth.

“Keep it there. Don’t let it fall.” She orders, before bringing the hairbrush again over your vulnerable behind. You bite down on the metal, trying not to let it slip from between your teeth.

The taste of iron and the feel of it against your teeth it’s unpleasant, making you shudder as it bangs against your gums. The star shape isn't doing you any favors, either. There is no respite from the points when there are seven of them.

The pain it’s unbearable. The hits of the hairbrush seem more and more distant as you focus on not letting the medallion slip from between your lips. You can’t focus, starting to drool around it. Your cries remain muffled between clenched teeth, but you want to scream and scream and never stop.

Your problems fade away, leaving you in an impossible state of clarity. There is nothing on your mind but the pain. The impact of each hit and the knowledge that you can take one more for Alicent, that you can be good for her.

She keeps at it, cautious to keep an eye on your face. After a certain number of hits, her palms rub at your sore bottom and thighs, shushing you. The pause makes you want to cry even more.

Tears and drool are now freely running down your face. The points of the star dig at your gums, and you try to swallow down your sobs to not jostle it more.

Hurts. Hurts so bad. You are shaking. It feels as if your arms are unable to keep you upright anymore. Finally, you collapse, chest squished against the vanity, weak legs trembling, hips out for Alicent to keep at it.

She does, but in a much crueller manner. As you pant there, she turns the hairbrush over, and starts rubbing the bristles over your abused thighs and cheeks. You sob more, body shaking so hard you rattle the vanity.

Power through it, you say to yourself. You need to endure it. You need to be good. This is the only way. You have to take what she gives you, prove yourself. Pain it’s the only thing that will give you what you need now. A clean slate from your transgressions.

She is both lover and judge, your queen. Jury and executioner. Able to cleanse you from your sins and cradle your injured body, nurture you back to health. Back to piousness.

You wish you could spend eternity at her feet. Forgive me, Mother, you think to yourself. For I have sinned in my thoughts, all about her. In my words, to keep our secret. In what I have done, and in what I have failed to do. Her lips, her smile, her eyes. The fact that you never once kissed.

Alicent shushes you. Meanly, her nails drag against your cheeks. The metal inside your mouth tastes like expiation, slightly coppery and leaving a faint pain in your gums. Never had you felt closer to the Gods than now, confessing to your private Septon.

Your teeth clench more around the seven pointed star. She spanks you again, this time with her bare hand. You sob, focused on not letting go, no matter how much it hurts. It’s not only for her, that you need to be good. It’s for yourself.

You need to prove you are good, show that you have some worth. If any, that you are capable of obeying. But on the next hit, you are unable to keep the star inside your mouth, and you cry out, both in pain and despair.

You failed. You had one task and you failed. Your sobs turn more hysterical. Your stomach sinks. Suddenly, you can’t breathe. There is an ugly, choked sound on repeat. Like the cries of a hurt animal ringing in your ears. You realize too late that you are the one producing it.

Alicent looks up, and freezes.

“Oh, sweetheart.” She brushes your hair back, and kisses your temple. “You did so well. So well, it’s over now.”

She gathers you in her arms. It’s only then you notice the mess of drool and tears on your face has turned red.

“I’m sorry.” You hiccup. “I didn’t….”

“Shh, no. You did outstandingly. It was all my fault.” Alicent gently pries your lips open. You go with the motion, opening up for her. She checks your gums, very tenderly. There is a small gash on the inside of your cheek.

Alicent pours you a glass of wine.

“Rinse your mouth with that for me.”

Still a bit floaty, you do as she says, head bobbing lazily. Once you do, she helps you get dressed and sits by you, nursing her cup. You lay down on your side, looking at her.

She is so pretty it hurts. You give her a loopy smile. Alicent smiles back.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Alicent asks as you rest your head in her lap.

“No.” You reply, voice still a bit off. She rubs your shoulder blades, soothingly. Then, she leans towards a center table and reaches for a board filled with cheese and fruit.

“Here. Eat some.”

You blindly chew whatever Alicent presses against your lips. No matter what it was, coming from her hand, you would.

“I don’t want to go to my rooms.” You mutter, hiding your face in the folds of her skirt. You drop a kiss to her clothed knee and Alicent scratches your head just the way you like.

Every so often, you wonder where her mind is, when she is delivering what you clearly need. Her own pain, perhaps. How much she craves to be the one receiving the hits. You have seen the way her eyes glaze over, when your hands rest casually on the hairbrush.

Perhaps, she is thinking of her. The other woman she loved. You have an inkling of who she is, but you don’t dare even think of the name. They say, sometimes, spirits pay attention when we speak about them out loud. You don’t want to think about her, childishly afraid of jinxing it. Nor do you dare ask because some things are better not known.

Is that why she refuses to turn this thing of yours into something romantic? Is she too fearful of admitting she loves you?

You fear you know the answer, already. You are not a placeholder, or a substitute, but Alicent is too scared to acknowledge it. She prefers pretending this is nothing more than a Queen disciplining her subject.

This is easier, you convince yourself. You shouldn’t have spoken, you shouldn’t have asked to stay. Both of you got what you wanted. Pain. Control. Crime and punishment. You should be out of here.

There is a dreadful feeling of wrongness in this. A cold shiver that takes over you, as you try to get up and claim back a semblance of calm. Alicent feels it too. Her brows are pinched, conflicting emotions displayed in her eyes. Sadness, and a plea for you not to go. Yet, she doesn’t speak it out loud.

The silence stretches. Almost as if an angel had passed between the two of you, stealing your voices, burrowing the words that could not be spoken aloud.

Alicent’s hand reaches forward, quick as a viper. A shove, against your shoulder, making you stumble back into bed. You whimper, body still feeling bruised from your recent experience.

“Stay. Stay the night.”

“Your guards…” You protest, but you are already getting comfortable again, your head on her pillow. Drowning on the smell of her, her, her.

“Ser Criston won’t speak a word.”

So you stay. And the next morning, Alicent doesn’t exactly tell you she loves you, but you feel a little better anyway.

[woso-lover234]

matildas platonic fic-ice bath

Training was harder today as they had a match incoming so the physios suggested ice baths to help the tillies' muscles.

At 10.30 training was over everyone started making there way towards the ice baths.

"We're doing ice baths?!" Madi called out "why'd no one tell me?!" She asked shocked

"Coz if you knew you would've skipped" macca said truthfully

"Not true" madi said quietly rolling her eyes while everyone gave her the 'your joking right?' look and she sighed "fine, whatever you guys are right" she puffed and started walking back to her room to sneak off early thinking everyone forgot about her doing an ice bath but mini caught her and brang her back but heaps of the other girls got off coz they didn't need one.

"Mads you have to do your ice baths" mini said sternly as she walked with her to the ice baths

"Sorry mini" madi said, sad that she had made mini mad or disappointed in her. When they arrived the media manager said she wanted to film a little bit of everyone getting in the ice bath.

(Bold is media manager)

Mini led madi to an ice bath where Kyra was waiting to go in and they waited to be told what to do.

"Ok we'll get Kyra and Madi in this one, mini in that one with Lydia, ellie in there and E-V-E in that one by herself" she explained and everyone went to the ones they were directed to. "Ok we'll start with over here with you hopping in first and we'll do snippets of all of yous, Kay?" She asked and everyone nodded. She followed them to the bath they were directed to go in and started filming.

(*if in this then filming* if not then irl/ bts)

*someone got into the ice bath with her phone in her hand

"Did you see how graceful that was?" She asked looking at the camera

"Very graceful, like a ballerina" *madi called out to her and did a little spin while having her arms above her head and everyone laughed

"You totally could've been a ballerina" Kyra commented

"Thanks Kyra" she said and the two laughed again at the sarcasm that Kyra said it with.

"Ok Kyra your up" the media manager called and Kyra stepped up to the bath

"Good luck Ky" madi called

"What do you mean your coming in after me" Kyra said laughing and shaking slightly

* "I am in" Kyra said to the camera

"No your not" madi said quietly in the back round and Kyra glanced at her then back at the camera with a shocked expression

"My foots touching the floor" she said proudly*

"Kay Madi your up" the manager said and madi groaned while Kyra laughed

*madi went up the steps with her phone in her hand

"Kyra can you pretty please hold this real quick?" Madi asked holding out her phone

"Yeah as long as we can watch TikTok together because I forgot my phone" Kyra said in a desperate/ serious tone

"Ok" madi said laughing as she reached the top step

"Can I jump?" She asked looking at the media manager

"I wouldn't recommend it but if you want" she replied and madi shook her head before getting in

"My feet can't touch the floor!" She yelled kicking her legs to keep her afloat

"If your feet don't touch the floor your not in properly" Kyra said and they laughed as madi went to the edge to hold on*

"Ya Kay?" Mini asked walking over to madi seeing her chattering and holding onto the edge for dear life

"Yep-pp" madi said holding a thumbs up and popping the P due to her chattering lips.

* "if youve never been to the Antarctic, this will replicate it" E-V-E said*

"It's so cold!" Madi called out shivering while Kyra nodded her head and Kyra held up madi's phone for Face ID before they began watching TikTok's.

*madi and Kyra in the pool shivering while lyds is singing in the back round

"What are you guys watching?" The man behind the camera asked Kyra and madi

"Edits of ourselves" madi said proudly and Kyra laughed "joking we're watching Matilda's edits because we're die hard fans and would do anything to meet them and wanna be exactly like them one day!" Madi said acting like a fan girl before her arm slipped and she fell into the ice bath and got up to her the collar of her Matilda's shirt wet as everyone laughed at her*

*E-V-E holding up the piece sign with her muesli bar half eaten*

*minis bout to get in her ice bath with lyds

"10 degrees for 10-15 minutes is the appropriate temperature and duration for an effective ice bath" Tony called to mini as Ellie walked past*

* "you sit in here for, the gurus say about 10 minutes but for me 6 does the trick for E-V-E." E-V-E says to the camera while holding up her shirt to not get it wet.*

"Kay Ellie you wanna be on film too?" the manager asked Ellie and Ellie just shrugged

"Yeah sure, why not?"

*ellie was on the top stair holding her thumb up with one hand and her phone and a drink in the other before going to hop in.

"Don't drown mini" Tony said to mini as she got in and you could hear madi and Kyra's distant laughs.

"You reckon I'll be able to touch the bottom?" Mini asked

"Well Madi can't so we'll just have to see. You'll have to tread water for 10 minutes like her" everyone laughed. Ellie was lowering herself in, her shirt in her mouth to not get it wet.

"Do you want some more ice?" Tony asked her "some ice thrown in for some good measure?" Ellie nodded her head "you do?" She nodded her head again "where's the ice machine?" He asked going to find it*

*mini was in the ice bath now.

"I hate ice baths, why do I even do them?" Mini asked

"Umm can I get a step please?" Madi asked

"Yeah someone get madi a step, she can't reach the bottom" he called out and someone brought a step for madi to stand on. Mini cringed as the water got colder*

steph came into the room in her puffer jacket ready to hop into the bath with Ellie.

*steph pulled up her puffer jacket a little and lowered herself down into the water

"Oh no" she said feeling the cold water

"Mhmmm drop" ellie said*

*Kyra and madi were in the ice bath flapping their hands trying to stay warm

"High knees" madi said trying to do high knees on the step but nearly fell but luckily grabbed onto kyra and almost making her fall aswell.

"Oops sorry" she said hugging Kyra from behind and putting her head on the older girls shoulder and smiling innocently

"Cool vibes!" Lydia said from the ice bath behind them "it's cool!"

"It's cool vibes" Kyra said putting up the rock and roll hand signal

"cold vibes!" she said matching Kyra hand signals "Did anyone set a timer?!" She asked as an after thought

someone put their hand up saying they put on a timer and that Kyra and madi could get out now.

"THANK THE LORD!"* madi called out as she swam to the side to get out of the ice bath Kyra following but hit madi's step.

" your step was in the way!" She called out to the girl who had just got out and was running to Caitlin who had a towel

"I'm sorry" she yelled back as she reached Caitlin who was now holding the towel out waiting for her so she could wrap her up while Kyra had to grab one herself (perks of being the baby of the team)

"Thank y-you I'm so c-cold!" Madi said her teeth chattering as she spoke. Now that she was out of the water and the breeze was blowing on her she felt colder than she did in the ice bath. Caitlin wrapped the towel around her freezing figure as madi pulled it tighter around her body.

"All good go stand in the sun" she instructed and madi quickly left to go outside Kyra following when they met Charli outside.

"Hey little one!" She said happily opening her arms for madi to hug her and she did

"Thanks Charli I'm getting warmer now" the young girl said as kyra went behind madi and hugged both the girls

"Me too" she said they laughed before going to sit in the sun for a bit.

[foreverisntenough]

- YOU’RE MINE -

Summary: While you daydreamed about his face an ocean apart, he had no idea what yours was about to do to him. With a twist of fate and the heat of summer, a new relationship would completely ransack his heart - Everyday heavy with the thought of one another, neither of you were going to let the unexpected love of your life go. You were going to be his, you were his, and you were going to stay his.

Warnings: This series will contain fluff, suggestion, smut (unprotected sex,) mentions of pregnancy, love bombing, occasionally sad, kind of angsty, alcohol consumption - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: I hope you like it! There will definitely be more parts (don’t know how many just yet though.)

INDEX

Chapter 24 - ‘You’re Mine’

Trent held your hand with one and carried your bag with his other. When you all stumbled back into the villa after your day on the yacht you had a tight turn around to get ready for dinner and a night out at a big club. You were praying it would be nothing like your last night out at a club and there would be no Chase in sight. You put your worries in the back of your mind and hurried around your room trying to pick out the perfect outfit. You threw it on the bed and scurried into the en-suite to shower first. You started to undress in the bathroom when Trent walked in.

“Wow, honestly… I am the luckiest man in the world. Jesus.” He looked at you eyes wide with a silly grin on his face. He was in awe of your naked body.

“You’re ridiculous, I need to shower quickly.” You cooed starting to step into the shower.

“I can help you if you want, speed things up.” He said cheekily stepping towards you. His hands reached out to caress your smooth skin.

“It will most definitely slow things down…” you paused when Trent began to slip off his clothes. Seeing his toned tanned body changed your mind almost immediately as you felt your mouth water. “But maybe I do need a little help, come here pretty boy.” You giggled as he stepped into the shower with you. He pressed you up against the cold shower tiles as the warm water cascaded down your naked bodies.

“You’re so fucking hot, baby.” Trent moaned as you worked kisses down his neck. You kissed at his chest and slowly started to get onto your knees in front of him. “Fuck you’re perfect.” His breath hitched as your hands wrapped around his hard cock.

“I wanna suck your cock, T.” You begged pouting your lips.

“Yeah? Go on baby, whatever you want.” He smiled pretty happily with what you wanted at the moment. You wasted no time, immediately taking his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around him. Trent leaned back groaning at the sensation before gripping some of your hair. He pushed your head down gently but forcing more of his cock into your mouth. You moaned again around him, the vibrations just about sending Trent over the edge. You hollowed your cheeks and forced yourself to take more of his cock down your throat. Spit pooled in the corners of your mouth as you gagged a little around him, bobbing up and down on him. “Fuck, good girl, taking my cock so well” Trent groaned. His words making your pussy throb. He started to twitch in your mouth as he hit the back of your throat continuously. He couldn’t hold on anymore, you felt too good. “Gonna make me cum. Want to swallow for me, baby?” He was barely able to get the words out when you nodded and he spilled into your mouth. He filled you full of his cum as your eyes watered, sucking him still. You moaned at the warm sensation. You opened your mouth for him to see his cum dripping from your tongue. You swallowed and opened your mouth again to show him how good you did. He smiled and shook his head in disbelief as he pulled you off him slowly and brought you back up to him. Trent abruptly picked your body up and pushed your back against the cold wall again as he held you. You wrapped your legs around him and started kissing him passionately and messily. He pulled away for a moment, loosening his hold.

“T, don’t drop me.” You moaned, ghosting your lips over his. He lined up his cock at your entrance, teasing you with the tip.

“Nah, would never drop you, beautiful.” He grunted as his cock slid into you slowly. Eliciting a deep moan from both of you. Your eyes fluttering closed from the stretch. “Feel so good, baby.” As you tightened your legs around his waist. He rolled his hips against you and his cock pressed deeper into hitting a spot only he knew. When he found the perfect rhythm you could feel the knot in your stomach tightening. He sucked and nibbled onto your sensitive neck when you could feel your high rapidly approaching.

“T…” you whined as he reached in between you and rubbed your clit in harsh tight circles

"Fuck baby, you feel so fucking good, you're so fucking wet for me, fuck” Trent could barely focus you felt so good. You could barely speak from how good he felt. Your stomach tightened and your walls fluttered as you came, squirting a little.

“Fuck! Ffuck T, I’m cumming. Shit baby, you feel so good, oh my god.” Your head collapsed onto his shoulder as he relentlessly pounded into you as you rode out your high.

"You take me so well, fuck, you're making such a mess, baby.” And you were. Trent hissed as his cock twitched in you feeling how messy you were.

“Cum in me, please, baby” you begged in a haze as you gushed around him. You pressed your chest against his and he groaned hearing you say words that he loved.

“Yeah, want me to fill you up, baby? Hmm?” Trent grunted, thrusting particularly hard. “Gonna be a good girl and take all my cum? Fuck! I love you so m-mmuch” You could only whine and nod. “Need you to cum for me one more time though.” He asked you but before he even finished the sentence you both were overtaken by earth shattering orgasms.

“Shit! T! I love you oh my god fuck!” You felt white hot pleasure course through you. You were practically shaking but Trent held you tighter to him as he pumped you full.

“Oh fuck, baby. Be a good girl, yeah? Shit shit shit, feels so fucking good. Take it for me.” He moaned, pressing you further into the shower wall as your pussy clenched tighter around him. He emptied his load inside you as you both breathed heavily. Eventually after minutes of short breaths, I love yous, and highs coming down, he gently set you on your feet. You clung to him as the warm water continued to fall.

“That was so good. Holy fuck.” You whispered still out of breath against his skin.

“Baby… that was. Jesus, that was so fucking good. I love you so much.” Trent whispered back equally out of breath as his big hands rubbed your back. “So good for me.” You got out of the shower, the warm water and cold AC in the house had you shivering. “Aw, come here, baby” Trent cooed, wrapping a towel around you and pulling you against his body.

“I love you.” You murmured looking up at his pretty face. He looked down at you with a soft smile.

“I know, pretty girl and I love you. I can’t wait to cum in you and get you pregnant soon” He said it so seriously, so casually it made your heart skip a beat so you giggled. “Hmm? What’s so funny?” He laughed with you squeezing you tighter to him.

“I really want that now, T.” You said greedily clinging to him dreaming of getting pregnant.

“Yeah? Well you were Miss. let’s have a proper chat after Greece so you're gonna have to wait till we get back to England.” He teased pressing a kiss to your forehead before letting go of you.

“C’monnnnn, don’t you want to be a daddy? Let’s just start now!” You whined jokingly, grabbing at him. He snapped his head though quick to look back at you.

“Do not.” He started to laugh, unable to hold it in. “ Do not start with the whole daddy thing right now or you will not leave this bed for the rest of the trip. That’s a promise, yeah?” He was actually pretty serious but it was a little funny so he giggled some more. You pecked his lips.

“Sure, whatever you say, daddy.” You cheekily cooed rolling your eyes walking to the other room. He let out a breath shaking his head looking at himself still in the bathroom mirror trying to compose himself. You were joking but the name set something off in him he couldn't entertain right now.

You went to Lauren’s room now that you were clean and feeling just a little bit better than you did before your shower thanks to Trent’s help. You showed her the outfit you had planned and in true fashion she hyped you up as you slipped into it. It was a semi sheer two piece set in a pretty light pink that looked perfect with your skin tone. It was a little one shoulder top with a rosette detail, the mini skirt ruched on one side showing a little extra skin and had a matching rosette too. You paired the set with a pair of strappy silver heeled sandals, a statement earring, and a fun little beaded bag from Staud. Lauren decided tonight was the perfect time for her to pull out the sheer mini dress she had gushed over back at your house in England. Music began to pump through the villa. You’d give it to them, the boys had great music taste so you were getting really excited for the night, the vibes were good already. You took a few photos with Lauren including one particularly good mirror pic. Lauren posted a live version of it to her story with a song the boys were playing. You reposted it to your own Instagram pretty content with how you looked. You came out of Lauren’s room to the living room where all of them were lounging around waiting as expected for you to finally be ready.

“Finally!” Jobe groaned dramatically. He stood up out of his chair throwing his hands. “Can we pleasssse eat now!” He whined eliciting a big laugh from the whole group.

“Yes, Jobe. We can eat now. Thank you for being so patient” you said giggling. Trent came over though and stopped you from walking with everyone to the dining table outside. He wrapped his arms around you pulling you into his warm embrace.

“You… are the most beautiful girl in the world. Did you know that? Hmm?” he cooed with his ever gorgeous big smile before pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“Thank you, my T. You’re not so bad yourself.” you giggled blushing at how sweet he was.

“How did I get so lucky? Let me see the whole look…C’mon.” He held your hand above your head as you gave him a little twirl still giggling, the blush becoming more visually apparent on your face.

“Stop!” You whined. When you faced him again you pressed your body into his, hiding your face in his neck getting shy under his gaze.

“You’re unreal, baby. And all mine, right?” He whispered, nuzzling his face down into you. You pulled your head away from him and gave him a little kiss in return. He hummed in contentment. “I don’t think the shower was enough for me. Need a little more of you.” He said with a sly smile starting to walk you away from the direction you needed to go in and back towards the bedroom. His hands on you sliding to some less innocent places.

“No, no, no! Jobe will murder us. Plus I know you’re hungry.” You placed a kiss on his nose.

“Could think of something I’m little more hungry for other than dinner.” He whispered again. You giggled, wiggling out of his hold and rushing around him pulling his arm to follow you outside.

“Come on, let's go eat… food, T, just food.” You joked as he caught up to you and held your hand whilst you walked to take your seat at dinner. All the boys and Lauren and you and Trent got settled for another beautiful dinner overlooking the coastline. The food was wonderfully prepared by a chef and was just about as good as the wine you were drinking was. The meal was beautifully prepared and you just felt lucky to be there. The sentiment washed over you and you wanted to remember the feeling so you started to take a few pictures of everyone, the table, the food, and of course Trent. You took a photo of the sunsetting and posted it on your own instagram story relishing in how amazing your life felt sometimes.

“Good picture that.” Jude cooed looking down at his phone seeing your story. “I’m gonna post that.” Not even looking up at you in the slightest.

“Erm… no? That’s my photo.” You laughed teasing not actually going to care but he was ridiculous and easy to rile up.

“Yeah, c’mon. Don’t you want millions of people to see your photo, not just your mum?” He took a jab at you.

“Rude but fine, whatever Jude. Better give me credit then.” You rolled your eyes at him. You wrapped up dinner and waited for cars to come and bring you all to a very hard to get into club that you would breeze into. A little while after you arrived, you sat in a private area as Trent’s hand gripped your thigh. It made you feel special when he was occupied in a conversation but still kept a hand on you. He’d squeeze your leg every so often letting you know he loved you even if was talking about something silly with George at the moment. You snapped another photo of his big hand gripping your bare thigh tightly and posted it on your story. Writing some text over it ‘Yours xx’ Trent stood up to go talk to Jude but not before giving you a little kiss. You sat back and looked at everything unfolding in front of you in amazement. The colored lights flashed and the musics base shook your whole body, you could feel your heart beat and the liquor you were drinking warming you, but even with all the stimulants the most incredible thing was that the most gorgeous boy in the world was all yours toting you around with him. Trent skin was illuminated by a blue light beaming down and in some way, that only he could manage, he just looked beautiful. You didn’t really care about the VIP area you were in or the luxury villa you were staying in, all you cared about was seeing that smile on his face. You wanted to keep it there forever. You took the last sip of your drink. As you felt the tequila race down your throat you were reminded that when you did leave Greece, that on the flight you would be getting on tomorrow to go home, you’d be one more day closer to trying to get pregnant with him, to become a mum, to have a family. It was insane. You looked up and caught Trent’s eyes and yours watered a little. You were drunk revving up your emotions a little higher, but seeing him had your heart racing. He gave you a cheeky wink and you pouted at how cute he was. You couldn’t wait to get home now. Your pout quickly disappeared though when you saw Lauren leave Jude’s side and B line to you.

“How the fuck did we end up here!” Lauren yelled coming to sit next to you, handing you another drink smiling big. You both sat back in a booth and watched as two of the biggest names in English football stood in front of you laughing, in a private VIP area at a club in Greece. “It’s hilarious…” she started laughing leaning her head onto your shoulder. She was right. It was insane you ended up here.

“It feels like a fever dream sometimes…” you said giggling. Marcel came and sat next to you two and you were having the time of your life, drinking, dancing, singing. Lauren posted another Instagram story rapping… you want to say maybe it was ‘Drip or Drown’ or something with Marcel in the loud club. Her instagram filled with perfect videos that would serve as her memories tomorrow when she inevitably couldn't remember the night.

By the time you had left the club, the sun was starting to come up.

“At this point going to sleep feels dumb. Anyone want to swim?” Jude asked openly to the group. He was met with a myriad of yeses so you found yourself all lounging around the pool watching the sky change colors in bathing suits. Trent came over and picked you up off a chair you were in sitting next to George and pulled you with him. He walked with you to the edge of the infinity pool and you two stood there watching the sunrise as he rubbed his hands up and down your spine.

“Love you so much.” He whispered, pressing a kiss into your hair. You leaned up to give him a real kiss on the lips. His hands dropping to palm your ass. He hummed with his hands on your skin. You were going to tell him you loved him too but before the words would come out your sentence was stopped by a bunch of whistles and comments being yelled by everyone further back towards the villa.

“You’re ruining the view!” George yelled out.

“Get a room!” Marcel jeered laughing with George.

“You should just propose now, T!” Lauren teased then proceeded to pull out her phone to capture the moment.

“Stop!” Marcel laughed at Lauren. “Do not put that idea in his head.” Marcel joked and George laughed knowing that that idea was very much so already in Trent’s head.

Lauren took a video of the sun rising but simultaneously in her story you and Trent’s figures stood in the frame and the commentary could be heard muffled by the music that was blaring from inside the house. She posted it not before writing some text. ‘Don’t fuck it up TAA.’ She always teased him that he better not hurt you. He would never and she knew that but that’s what made it a little funny.

You were exhausted when you got inside. It was wayyy too early or late, you don’t know but you needed sleep regardless. You collapsed onto the bed still in your bikini trying to cuddle up to Trent who was managing to actually get ready for sleep unlike you.

“Alright sleepy girl gotta get you changed first, huh?” He cooed, picking your limp body up.

“I can’t do it, T.” You pouted rolling over to look at him.

“I’ll help you, baby. Okay?” He mused knowing you were going to be lazy and stubborn if he didn’t. He peeled off your top and bottoms leaving you bare. “Mmmm can I keep you just like this?” Trent greedily said his eyes unable to look anywhere but your naked body. His hands caressed your skin.

“Yeah… but you can’t wear anything either then.” You cooed equally as greedy, grabbing at him.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Trust me baby I’m definitely going to join you.” He laughed pulling his shirt over his head. He climbed onto the bed and settled leaning back against the headboard wearing nothing now. He looked jaw droppingly perfect per usual. “C’mere, beautiful. Gimme a cuddle.” He gestured for you. You slowly moved over to him and tucked perfectly in his arms. When you went to lay your head on his chest though you felt the back of your earrings poke you.

“T….” You whined. “Can you take out my earrings, please?” You had about 6 dainty little diamond stud piercings on each ear so he just kinda stared at you for a moment trying to deduce which to take out.

“Which one, baby?” He started laughing. “There’s a lot of them, pretty girl…”

“T, like my earrings…” you whined providing no further clarification so he opted to take out the larger statement ones you had also been wearing. He took one out and then waited for you to help him by moving your head but you didn’t.

“Turn your head, gotta get the other…” he continued to laugh. You were being a brat but he never minded playing into this type of stuff for you, it was cute. “Okay, all good?” He said placing the earrings in a jewelry dish on the bedside table.

“I love you.” You slurred sleepily “Thank you, T. You’re so nice to me.” You whispered getting more comfortable in his arms as he layed back down pulling you into his side. He kissed your temple.

“Too nice…” he joked, pressing another kiss on you.

“Mean…” you pouted, rolling your bottom lip.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I love you, baby. Do anything for you, always. Go to sleep, alright?”

“Mmmhmm, T. I love you.” You cooed nestling closer to him.

When you woke up later in the day you were still cuddled up with Trent happily feeling the warm sun seep through the windows.

Lazily, you found yourself cuddled on the couch disregarding the coffee George was kind enough to make you in an effort to stay close to the beautiful shirtless boy next to you. Jude walked into the room with a devious smile and winked at you which had you naturally a little concerned.

“What…” you cautiously asked him. He ignored your question and peered over at Trent who had now also turned his attention to Jude.

“Did you know you’re sharing Y/N with me now… what a lad you are.” Jude joked while scrolling through his phone to try to find one of the Daily Mail or Sun articles posted about your day on the yacht.

“Huh? What are you on about, mate?” Trent replied utterly confused but gained some clarity quickly when Jude tossed his phone to him. “Oh yeah, that’s lovely that.” Trent started laughing. You stretched your neck to see what was on the phone but you were less impressed.

“That’s bad! Like why?” You whined as your eyes widened as you kept scrolling through the article. “Your mums are going to see this!” You yelled zooming in on your scantily clad ass in one photo.

“Relax! It’s fine. It’s just garbage news.” Jude scoffed, not bothered in the slightest. He had a similar approach to Trent and just let these things roll off his back.

“I don’t think Dianne is the type of lady whose reading The Sun, Y/N to be fair.” George piped up now looking on his own phone at the articles.

“Erm… She probably is if it’s about her son and his girlfriend getting passed around.” You sighed and buried your head on Trent trying to hide from the embarrassment.

“It’s not a big deal, baby. Same old… it’ll pass. Nothing changes, yeah?” Trent tried to console you. You were all set to leave Greece later tonight so you hoped once you returned home and left the island that all the drama that ensued here would stay there. You laid on Trent a little longer as you scrolled on your phone aimlessly when you came across a familiar photo. Jude had posted a carousel to his Instagram feed. The first slide was your photo you had taken at dinner.

“You little shit!” You yelled for Jude who was sitting in the kitchen to hear. He just shook his head ignoring you. You took it upon yourself to comment and call him out to tease on the post.

‘What a photo, who took it? Like… you’re welcome 🙄’

Jude laughed in the kitchen seeing it pop up. He liked the comment and closed his phone and so did you.

Like any instagram of Jude’s every detail in the photos, every like, and every comment was analyzed by fans alike. One girl in particular had noticed your comment and the fact that Jude had liked it. She wondered… who were you? She clicked onto your public profile and her eyes squinted. Followed by Trent Alexander-Arnold, Curtis Jones, Jude Bellingham, Bukaya Saka, Jobe Bellingham… the list went on. Who the hell were you? You had stories still up so she tapped your little profile picture. There was the mirror picture with Lauren. She didn’t care and tapped to the next slide… It was the photo Jude had just posted. So you are with Jude on this trip? She tapped backwards to look at you and Lauren again. It was then she recognized you both from the articles. She clicked on Lauren’s profile. She looked at you both again in the mirror, tapped next to see Lauren and Marcel screaming lyrics in the club and her eyes widened. That was Trent’s brother… she was shocked. After more and more stories from the club of all of you, she landed on the video of you and Trent later at sunset. She read Lauren’s text over and over again seeing her tag your username and Trent’s. She immediately clicked on your profile again. She clicked your story one more time and saw your post with a very familiar hand on your thigh. She combed through your profile more and her jaw slacked. You were everywhere the boys were, holidays, tournaments, and… oh my god you’re with Trent’s family. She was completely bewildered which was when she clicked on the Highlight reel on your page entitled ‘T❤️’ There on the glowing screen of a strangers phone your entire relationship played out from the first bouquet of flowers years ago to his hand on your thigh mere hours earlier. She watched more of your stories as she heard your unfamiliar giggle and Trent’s very familiar voice echo from her phone . Holy shit… she had just found Trent Alexander-Arnold’s mystery girlfriend.

“Y/N L/N…?” She whispered to herself. Your name uttered aloud for the very first time.

•

Thank you for continuing reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter / series … 🤍

Next part - Chapter 25 xx

[seungkw1]

untitled (hoshi oneshot)

pairing: kwon soonyoung x reader (gender not explicity mentioned)

word count: 1.3k

genre: exes to lovers, non-idol au

warnings: drinking, cursing, implied sex

author's note: hi this is literally the very first fic i've ever written in my life!! it's just a short one but any constructive feedback is appreciated :)

What an annoying fucking day. 

Missing the bus and being late for work, coworkers getting on your nerves, and to top it all off you completely forgot to do that important task that was due today, so you ended up staying late. It was only Tuesday, but you needed a goddamn drink.

It was already dark by the time you stepped out into the freezing cold air, and you huddled up in your coat as you made your way to the mediocre dive bar down the block. Not your top choice, but it was close. You ordered a vodka soda and zoned out as you listened to whatever depressing ass Smiths song was playing - shitty vibe, but you were too tired to care. 

So when the man you had vaguely noticed was staring at you from your peripheral vision got up and headed towards you, you sighed as you turned to immediately shut that shit down. 

“Sorry but I am really not in the mood for a conversation right n-“ your stomach dropped as you made eye contact with the all-too-familiar face. 

“I thought that was you,” your ex-fiancé said sheepishly. 

Frozen in shock, it took you a good five seconds for you to utter a response. 

“Soonyoung?”

What the FUCK was he doing here?

As if he read your mind, he explained, “I’m in town this week for a work conference, but I didn’t expect to run into… anybody I knew.” He paused, waiting for your reaction. More silence. After what felt like an eternity you finally snapped out of it.  

“Um… me neither.” 

Jesus Christ, pull yourself together. 

It had been nearly two years since you last saw him. The breakup had felt like a relief then - he was moving across the country and you never planned to see or hear from him again. Especially not in some random fucking bar on a Tuesday. 

Your heart raced as you noted that he looked good. Like, really good. 

“Mind if I join?” he gestures to the vacant seat next to you. 

“Yeah, definitely. I mean- no I don’t mind. Sorry yeah go ahead, sure” you tripped over your words. Why the hell are you so nervous? It’s just your ex. 

Yeah, just the person I very nearly married. Just the person I had once considered my soulmate…

You shove that thought to the back of your mind. 

Soonyoung sits down and awkwardly begins to make small talk - something neither of you are that great at. You chat politely for a few minutes, asking each other the usual generic questions.  There’s clearly so much you want to say to each other, but you both hold back. 

��Soooo… how’s the…” he pauses. Shaking his head, he abandons whatever he was going to say. He turns and makes eye contact with you, giving you a questioning look. You feel your heart rate spiking. You try not to think about how handsome he looks right now. 

“Do you still like playing pool?” He nods his head over to the open pool table in the corner. A smile involuntarily creeps onto your face and you see his eyes light up in response. The tension suddenly melts away. 

“Only if I can still kick your ass.”

—

A few drinks and several rounds of pool later, you and Soonyoung are laughing it up as if you hadn’t spent a single day apart. 

“Tired of losing yet?” you taunt sarcastically. You are both terrible at pool and neither of you even know how to play properly. But neither of you care about the game at this point anyway - you’re lost in old stories and inside jokes. 

And god, he looks REALLY good. 

Soonyoung pulls out his phone and laughs as he checks the time. 

“Uh-ohhh, it’s gotten prettttty late. We better get you home before you turn into a pumpkin!” You roll your eyes but feel a sudden tinge of sadness. You were truly enjoying yourself - more than you had in a long time - and you weren’t ready for the night to end. But it was getting a bit late. 

“Ugh let me check the train, who knows how long until the next one.” You go to put your coat on but he’s already holding it up for you, not realizing his old habit. 

“Fuck the train, I’m driving you home! It’s toooo cold,” he insists. You let out a short laugh - he only had one more drink but he was clearly drunk. 

“No, dummy, you are in no condition to operate a vehicle. I’ll drive for you.” 

—

You park Soonyoung’s car near your apartment building. He’s mostly sobered up by this point, but he’s clearly a little embarrassed about the fact that he had spent a good chunk of the ride crying as he apologized and confessed that he really missed you. But honestly, you realize that you had really missed him too. 

“Welp, here we are… guess I’d better get going,” he says, trying to hide his mopiness at the thought of leaving you. He slowly starts to open the passenger door but you catch his sleeve to hold him back. As you pull him back into his seat you find your hand subtly sliding up around his bicep. Fuck, he was even more muscular than you remembered. 

“Excuse me but I am not letting you behind this wheel until you are fully sobered up, which you clearly are not,” you tell him firmly. “Come on babe, we’re going inside and getting you something to eat.” The affectionate name rolled off your tongue so naturally that you didn’t even notice you’d said it. 

His eyes light up again. He had always been stunning, but in this moment he was insanely hot. Still holding onto his bicep, memories of his toned body flash through your mind as you feel the heat rising inside you. 

Is this really happening? Fuck, I want him so bad. 

And the way he looks back at you, you know he wants you too.

—

“What do you want, leftover pizza? A sandwich? Ramen?” 

“Ooooh RAMEN!” Soonyoung exclaims eagerly as he comes running into the kitchen. “Pretty please,” he adds with a goofy grin. It all felt so natural. You didn’t realize how much you had missed this, missed him. 

“Drink this,” you force a cup of water into his hands. Your hands brush and you instantly get butterflies. 

Jesus what is this, a middle school crush?? 

He locks eyes with you. Huge pang in your stomach. 

Okay, yeah. You need him. Badly. Right now. 

Overwhelmed, you panic and turn back to busy yourself with the ramen, but you find yourself too distracted to even continue that. 

Soonyoung can’t wait any longer. He grabs you by the hips and turns you around, pulling your body into his. He’s already excited, and you feel his excitement grow even more as he wraps his arms around you and kisses you with more intensity than you’ve ever felt before. 

Fireworks. Electricity. All the things. In that moment, nothing in the world mattered but you and Soonyoung.

God damn. 

He breaks the kiss so he can take a look at you. “You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that right?” He gently grabs your chin and tilts your face up toward him, going in for another kiss. 

You suddenly become aware of the ramen packet that’s still in your hand. You giggle and he ends up kissing you on the teeth. You both burst out laughing and Soonyoung pulls you even tighter into his arms. You feel both of your hearts pounding in your chests. 

He places his forehead against yours. “Soooo…”

“Soooo what?” You give him a tiny peck on the lips. He gives you a tiny peck back. 

“Soooo aren’t you gonna invite me into your room?”

“What for?” you ask coyly. 

“Mmmm I think I have a few things in mind,” he says in a low voice. 

“Like whaaaat,” you tease. 

You feel the both of you becoming even more excited as he mutters into your ear. 

“Mmm I like the sound of that,” you say softly. Then jokingly, “but what about your ramen?”

“I think I have an appetite for something else now…” 

[end]

—

find me on ao3 as well ♡

[vamossainz55]

heyy! can you do carlos x reader where reader is sad bcs it’s her father death anniversary with “it’s okay to cry.” prompt, thank you 🥰

"If we can laugh, fine. And if we’ve got to cry, we’ve got to cry.” – Charles Bukowski

or where reader struggles with her grief, and carlos is only there to support. tw: mentions of death & grief

a/n first drabble for the party, scrolled past it and couldnt help but to put first, thanks for requesting anon

want to request a drabble? check gudelines here

It hits you the moment you get home and shut the door, all air suddenly leaving your lungs. You’re exhausted, feet heavy as you walk into your entryway, dropping your keys into the small little bowl on the table. How you managed to get through the day was beyond you, but you were glad to be home now, already wanting to curl into bed and sleep. 

The thing is, you had felt it this morning too, but despite the missing piece in your chest the world still somehow continues to turn, you’d almost call it cruel. So despite every little fiber in your body screaming at you not to, you had still got out of bed this morning, convincing your boyfriend that it was fine. 

It’s been three years Carlos, it’s okay. Now let me go to work.  

And it was fine, it was fine when you got to the office, it was fine when you were doing your meetings, and it was fine when you were pitching new ideas to some clients, and even when you were on your way back home. 

You don’t know why the feeling is coming back now, so consuming that you feel like you can barely breathe. You don’t even notice your boyfriend coming into the entryway, with a wooden spoon in hand and a kiss the chef apron on, which would usually make you laugh. 

“Mi amor, ¿estás bien?” The question catches your attention and you let out a deep breath. Your hand reaches over to his arm, coming close to kiss his cheek. 

“Si, todo bien, solo estoy muy cansada,” You explain just as his hand goes to squeeze his waist, you. He wants to ask you again, eyes worriedly looking over yours but you quiet him with a forced and small smile. 

“Can I help you cook?” It’s a weird request, both of you knowing that you liked to stay as far from the kitchen as possible. Too many burnt pancakes and uncooked chicken more often than not ending in the bin, but he knows that you need this, need a distraction.

It's fine at first, you help with boiling the water, and with grabbing the pans, but against Carlos’ requests you’re at the cutting board, grabbing the knife and some garlic. You last four cloves before the knife slips, catching your finger slightly in the process. 

“I’ve got you,” Carlos murmurs, as he grabs a bandaid, letting you run your hand under cold water. It’s quiet as he watches you, quietly taking your hand to help. It’s a few beats later that he finally says it. 

“Babe, you should sit down and let me cook okay?” The words somehow make your skin crawl and you shake your head, moving your hand away from his as soon as he’s done. 

“It’s fine Carlos,” You say, already going to grab for the knife but Carlos grabs your wrist instead. 

“You never want to cook and you literally just cut yourself, please let this go.” Carlos says and this time it sounds less like a suggestion and more like a plea. 

“I don’t want to sit down Carlos, can I do something else?” 

“No,” 

“Carlos,”

“Sit down, please,” His hands are gentle on your wrists, soon urging you to sit at the bar’s stool. He takes a deep breath before kissing your knuckles. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I am, I��m-”

“No, don’t say you’re fine when I know you’re not.” 

The question shuts you up and your eyes quickly divert from his. Carlos sighs, soon giving your hands a squeeze. 

“It’s okay if you’re upset.” Carlos murmurs and you shake your head, feeling an uncomfortable knot form in your stomach. “And it’s okay if you still miss him, it just shows how much of an amazing person he was.” The knot’s somehow in your throat just as tears begin to slowly pool into your eyes. It hurts so much that you can barely breathe. 

“I just-” Your voice cracks, and you feel a burn from the tear that rolls down your cheek. “I just want to talk to him.” You say and Carlos simply nods, pulling you close to his chest. 

“Shh, shh,” He rubs over your back as you cry into his chest, shirt wet and stained. He doesn’t care though, not a single bit. “It’s okay to cry.” He murmurs, kissing your head. “Let it out, I’ve got you.”

You cry as much as you need to, wrapped in Carlos’ arms for what feels like hours. The pasta is overcooked, so you order take out, curling up on the couch eating sushi before eating ice cream. If you cry again before bed, Carlos doesn’t seem to mind, simply wrapping himself around you once more. 

It’s not pretty, it never is, the third year hurts just as much as the first, but one thing always helped: you knew you wouldn’t ever be alone.

[bisayawa]

mama & friend ; alejandro vargas/fem! reader

― fluff

desc: crush shenanigans through the eyes of a dog.

note: there is a first part.

most days, alejandro vargas exuded an air of poise & grace ― as expected of a rising commanding officer of the special forces.

however, this was not one of those days.

"what do you mean it went well enough?"

today, like the day before, his insides felt like scrambled eggs.

"we only just met a few times. what would you like me to say?"

"you met a wonderful, beautiful woman in the park & it only went well enough?" rudy went on, the silence of the barracks bringing his voice louder. "you don't expect me to believe that, hermano."

at that, alejandro sighs. there was one thing.

"well..." his voice splinters until he picks it back up. "i ― i don't think her dog likes me that much."

rudy almost laughs. almost. he swallows it down & brings his voice to an even tenor.

"her dog, hermano?" says he. "that's what you're worried about?"

"no, listen. her dog goes with her everywhere. that dog is her best friend, and if he can't... you know, feel okay around me then how would she feel?"

alejandro takes a pause, looking away from his friend, mulling it over in his mind. "maybe i am over reac ―"

" ― then i guess you gotta start reading up!"

"huh?" reading up? "what do you ― ?"

"read some books about dogs, watch a video, try to understand him." rudy adjusts a buckle on his chest, shrugging. "i don't know, maybe something will come out of it."

the man, alejandro, feels a light switch flick on in his chest.

"...rudy," he says. "you're sharp as a tack, you know that?"

― ― ―

"what do you think, bruno? do you think alejandro actually likes me?"

your place on the sofa quickly slides down to the cold hardwood floor. your hand is on bruno, combing through short-cropped black fur.

bruno huffs.

―

alejandro again, mama? always talking about him! it's getting so... so much. his name is too long, too! a - le - jan - dro. so many sounds in one name. my name is better. bru - no. just quick sounds, not long.

―

"hm? bruno?" you rub into the fur of his stomach, the spot he likes most.

in a second, he's kicking & preening.

―

well, mama, i think he's a big... hmmmmm... yeeeee ― hey, what? what, huh.

―

just as quickly as you started, you stopped rubbing the soft circles onto his tummy, choosing to lie down on the floor altogether. your hair billows out under your head. you're staring at the ceiling, a tight frown upon your lips.

"how do you feel, boy? am i thinking about it too much?" you say into the air. "hm, i don't know."

―

...mama? are you sad?

i will... move, closer. yes, that will help.

―

"big boy bruno, bruno boy." his ears perk up, eyes staring back into yours. dark pools of loving brown, affection in one colour. it makes you smile, and your heart sings.

―

mama is saying my name. mama usually keeps saying my name until she focuses. maybe she needs to unfocus today. too much thinking about the alejandro upset her maybe. all about if he likes her or not, if he is true about it or not...

well, for me, i think mama has nothing to worry about.

― ― ―

i'm worried for mama. humans are always weird but today, she's even weirder.

it started when she came out of the shower. her legs were suddenly so bare, not full of fur like mine. i wonder what happens during their wash because that doesn't happen to me when i do it. hopefully it wasn't painful for mama's fur to get washed away.

the next was mama putting some... grey? brown? on her face. some on her mouth, some on her cheeks. she looks... like mama but now with grey.

maybe this is another human thing that i do not understand. i know the doctor said dog eyes are different with the colors.

ah, well, mama always looks nice, with or without the grey.

ooh! mama is wearing the frilly blanket now, the one with pretty flowers on it. ooooooh, mouth on the frilly blanket. mouth on the frilly blanket.

maybe mama won't get so mad if ―

bruno! no chewing on my dress, please!

ah, well, i tried.

ay, wuh ― hey! mama's using the funny blue bottle again, the one that sprays stinky water everywhere. she sprays it on herself & the big smell clouds around her. i do not think i should get near, or else my nose will get funny.

now mama is wearing the tall, clicky shoes. the shiny ones. not good for chewing, too squeaky & sharp on my tongue. i do not see colors the same as mama but i think it matches her blanket.

mama is in front of the... looking window thing ― i do not know the name. it is a window, but it looks like mama when she is in front. whenever i go near, another dog just appears ― i cannot hear them or smell them. they just appear!

now, mama is turning around & around, looking at the window. she has the blanket, and the grey and the shoes.

she looks like mama, and mama is always beautiful.

huh, mama?

mama is going to the door now, with a bag and a jacket. it is too late to go to the outside for a run day. are we going to play?

or... no, is it work day again? work is for morning.

what is happening, mama?

―

you turn around before you reach the door. the dress dances around your knees.

bruno sits in front of the hallway, darling & dear with a curious tilt of his head. your best friend has no idea what your plans are. you wilt for him.

"bruno," you kneel & he pads closer. "i'm going on that date, remember? it will just be for a few hours, okay?"

―

mama is using slow words, soft words. she is leaving for a few hours.

not forever... but a few hours.

is a few hours a long time? hm, mama...

―

"you'll be okay. you won't be alone. mister arrañeta will come by & check, hm?"

you do not know if he can understand a smile but you do anyway. upon seeing it, his tail thump-thumps on the floor, a hopeful sign.

his eyes are wide. you stare before you kiss him on the forehead.

rising to your feet, you look to him one more time. he's sitting still, obedient as ever.

a little dismayed, you open the door & step out.

― ― ―

mister arrañeta comes by once or twice. he gave me water & sat down with me on the porch for a while. it was nice.

i hear mama's shoes before she arrives. she's laughing, too, that weird but nice mama sound. there's a window by the front door. maybe i can sit there to see her come close.

there she is!

the alejandro is with her? he is talking with her, walking with her to our door!

woh, did he keep her safe? is she hurt? what did they do? ooh, maybe mama will tell me all about it.

mama sees me & she shows her teeth. it's not a bad sign when she bares her teeth. mama shows teeth when she's happy.

she saw me, and she's happy.

they're at the door! mama is home. why isn't she opening it though? huh?

they are speaking. mama has hands on the alejandro. her little nails are holding his, kneading them together like a cat.

wait, haah? their mouths are on each other now?

it's a strange way to clean someone... the inside of the mouth? weird place to lick but eh, maybe that's a human thing i do not know about.

it happens quickly. must be a fast kind of clean but mama is inside the house again, and the alejandro's heart is too fast when he walks away from our door.

mama is squeaking to me. i do not know what she is saying, but i think, if mama had a tail, it would be wagging right now.

― ― ―

mama & the alejandro are friends now. mama goes on more of those dates. sometimes i do not join, sometimes i do.

the dates i like are the ones to the outside. sometimes it's a run day. sometimes it's a sit down day. sometimes it's both!

mama likes the sit down days but friend likes the run days. he likes running around, likes having me chase him. sometimes the wind makes a mess of the fur on his head. he looks funny like that.

we take turns rolling in the grass. he pats my head, just like mama does. it feels the same. he feels like a friend to me, now, too. he gives me treats, and when he is happy, i notice that he shows teeth, just like mama.

now, mama has two friends to keep her safe.

―

today's run day is finished, and mama & friend are sitting down at the tree. must be tired from the running. they look like little dots from here.

the wind is cold now and the sun is going down. it will be night soon, and mama likes going home before night.

they are leaning back and... staring down each other? is this a bad stare down or a good stare down? oh, they're baring teeth. that's ― i need to get in there. i gotta ―

wuh ― hey! they're putting their mouths on each other again! nobody told me we could clean each other in public!

don't leave me out!

[deathmetalunicorn1]

What about the gods (thor, Poseidon, buddha, shiva and hades) with a s/o who usually is the literal live version of " ;-; " emote but one day she just breaks down crying and scratching her arms violently in their room because of all the bottled up emotions

(☞ ᐛ )☞Also a reminder to not bottle up emotions cause it messes you up later

Hope your day is going well (*˙︶˙*)ﾉ

Sensitive Reader

Thank you for your kind words my dear one, and thank you for your patience with this. I am getting better with expressing my emotions after bottling them up for years as I didn’t know how to express them or talk about them easily.

-They knew what they were getting into, dating you, they knew you were a sensitive person, one that could cry very easily.

-You see a butterfly, you’re crying over the beauty, you see people holding hands and he takes your hand, you’re crying, you watch Homeward Bound by yourself because nobody else wants to watch it with you (this is me L), you’re ugly crying.

-Be it happy, sad, or mad, you can cry very easily, and they know this, but unlike previous lovers, they are at least understanding and try to be accommodating, rather than your exes who told you to grow up or stop being so sensitive (once again me L).

-There wasn’t a day that went by that you didn’t cry for one reason or another, but if he was with you, he was quick to have you wrapped in a cuddly hug.

-There were days however, sometimes you could feel it coming, sometimes it blindsided you, when you would hit a breaking point and having a major meltdown, to the point of hurting yourself, just overwhelmed and hypersensitive about everything around you.

-You didn’t answer his texts or calls, which was a warning that something was wrong, as you always at least answered his texts.

-He let himself into your home and could hear you crying, almost to the point of screaming and sprinted to your room, throwing the door open.

-You didn’t even hear him, curled up on the floor beside your bed, your blanket pooled around your hips, fingers scratching up and down your arms, trying to calm yourself down, but you must have been doing it for a while, as your arms were red and raw, and he could see pinpricks of blood starting to appear.

-You were pale, hardly able to breath, breaths coming in raspy short pants, pupils dilated, heart in your ears, and you felt both cold and hot, as you felt like you were burning up but shivering, all at the same time.

-Poseidon- He lunged quickly, hugging you so he was hunched over you, his head resting on the back of your head. Your cries stuttered as you flinched hard, being shocked out of your dissociative fit, a sharp gasp leaving your lips. You tried to move, your cries quieting but your breathing still harsh, trying to calm down, but he held you tightly, refusing to let you move. Once you were calm enough so he could pick you up, he carried you into the bathroom and sat you on the edge of the tub. He tended to your arms first, before helping you wash your face, he spoke gently, telling you to take deep breaths and that you were okay, no once making you feel like you were being a burden. Once you were cleaned up he wrapped you in your blanket and held you on your bed, hugging you close, stroking your hair, pressing soft kisses into your hair, telling you that he was there for you.

-Buddha- He knew he couldn’t ask rashly else he could scare you which could make you hurt yourself, but he needed you to stop as quickly as possible. He ran to your kitchen and got a cup of ice cubes before returning to your side. He kneeled and down whispered your name, you flinched, looking up at him and quickly put an ice cube to your lips, forcing it into your mouth. The ice shocked your system, giving you not only a sudden cold stimulant, but something in your mouth and giving you water as well. It took two more ice cubes to get you calmed down, but once you were, Buddha turned you into a Y/N-burrito in the biggest blanket you had, as he knew to make you comfortable, just in case if you crashed or went into shock. The whole time he was talking gently to you, kissing your forehead, lulling you to sleep while holding you to his chest, grounding you.

-Shiva- He knows not to panic, having three wives and a potential fourth in you, has given him a lot of experience with things like this, but seeing in you in such a state made him freeze, but only for a moment. Shiva quickly approached you, grabbing the blanket and wrapped it around you slowly, shushing you as you gasped harshly, looking scared as he pulled you out of your fit. He held you to his chest, making good use of his four arms, hugging you to his chest as you broke down, weeping into his chest. He picked you up and laid on your bed with you on his chest, stroking your hair gently, whispering calming words, bringing you down from your high. He wanted to help you get cleaned up, but he decided he would help you with that after a nap, you needed it.

-Hades- He raised three brothers, each one with their own issues and challenges, he’s got this, but just because he knew, doesn’t mean he wasn’t worried to see you in such a state. He hugged you quickly, mainly to grab your hands from causing any more damage, and shushed you gently, stroking your hair and slowly bringing you down. When you started to hiccup that’s when he picked you up and put you on your bed, wrapping you in a big blanket before he went and got a cool, damp washcloth and a cup of ice water, instructing you to slowly sip on it while he dabbed at your forehead, face, and neck, cooling you down. He held you close once you finished your water, telling you how strong you were and that once you rested for a while, you and him would talk about things as he wanted to help you as best he can.