#I Suppose I Shall Handle Tagging For This One | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

asumofwords · 7 months

Text

The Sublet - Roommate!AU

Warnings: She/her pronouns, slow burn, angst. Tags will be added as the fic goes along. Angst, death, mourning, funeral, fluff, smut, daddy kink, breath play, spanking, slapping, fingering, face fucking, degradation, gagging, deep throating, dumbification, edging, creampie, crying, dacryphilia, dirty talking, name calling, rough handling, sadomasochist, sadism, spitting, spitplay, squirt, the correct method of choking, drugs (weed), alcohol, smoking.

Pairings: Modern!Aemond x Reader

Summary: Living with Helaena Targaryen was one of the best decisions you had ever made. Meeting at university, the two of you became thick as thieves and quickly best friends, moving into a flat together. But what will happen when Helaena has to leave, and her quiet, brooding, brother moves in?

Notes: Another monstrous chapter sitting at 10+k, because when I said this series was going to only be 15 chapters I meant it hahaha. Goodness, gracious me, here we are. We have come to the end of this series! Thank you so much for all your love and support this whole way through! I hope that you have enjoyed it, and I hope I did the ending some sort of realistic justice. I shall be getting onto my requests now hehehe, anyway, ENJOY! <3

Final Chapter: Stay

Waking that morning, you had not expected to be met with what you were. You had thought that the day would be spent with some awkward, uncertain glances cast Aemond’s way, with the others casting theirs towards you both. Then perhaps you would talk again.

Or fuck.

Or both.

Your little traitorous brain hoped for both.

But no, that's not what you woke up to that morning. You woke up to a nightmare come true. And although all had prepared for it for years, and in fact, the reason why all were back at the Red Keep, it still came as a bombshell that shook the family to its very core.

Viserys was dead.

Gone peacefully in his sleep, found by none other than his doting eldest daughter and wife.

You had woken to the bedroom door shutting, a peak of Criston Cole’s hair in the crack of the door. Helaena stood frozen by it, swaying slightly on her feet before she walked over to the bed and sat down, staring at the far wall.

“Hel?” You sat up, hand coming to touch your best friends shoulder, “What's happened?”

Fear of the unknown settled into your gut.

Her lavender eyes turned to you.

“He’s dead.”

The Keep was in disarray.

Rhaenyra and Daemon were in shambles, having lost a father and brother all in one. It was a most terrible thing to witness. You felt grief yourself for your friends, and for the family as a whole as they moved through the motions of his death, his leaving of their worlds. You felt akin to an invasive species as you sat amongst them, foreign, displaced, unfitting in their neat yet disturbed world.

Lucerys and Jacerys were grieving with their mother and step-father, the twins joining them. As for the other children of Viserys? That was another story.

Amongst the four of them, there was not a single tear shed for their father, bar Aegon in the early light of the morning, stained cheeks hidden in the shadows, red rimmed eyes, and a tiredness that no young man should have at his age, pulling down at his shoulders. But he had swallowed it quickly and quietly as he had for his whole life and went outside to smoke.

You couldn’t however account for Aemond, as he was nowhere to be seen.

Sitting in the gazebo with the three silver haired siblings, you tried to offer condolences, a shoulder to cry on if needed, but all were content to grieve in their own way; Aegon smoking yet another joint, Daeron texting someone animatedly, and Helaena, simply staying quiet and composed beside you.

It wasn’t what you had expected for people to have just lost their father, but you supposed that everyone grieves in their own ways, theirs being much different to your own.

Helaena stood from where she had sat, dressed in all black, something you had not once seen her wear, a stark change to the bright colours that she usually donned. Perhaps this was her way of showing her grief. Her mourning.

Her loss.

“Walk with me.” She said quietly, and you nodded, jumping up as you grasped her hand, letting her lead you down the garden to look at the various plants and trees that were in a part of a gated garden entrance.

Greenery of all sizes, shapes, and colours grew beautifully, small little plaques beneath identifying their scientific name. The Red Keep's garden had some of the rarest of flowers and trees in the whole of the realm. It even had the famed Winter Rose’s from the North in a special greenhouse that kept them in below freezing temperatures.

It was still early in the day, the sun only just rising to its peak as you walked together in silence, your hand in hers as you followed her lead, looking at the shrubs and immense show of wealth. If it weren’t for the reason of your walk, you would have been more animated upon seeing some rare and beautiful orchids, perfectly potted and healthy.

Your steps crunched along the cobblestoned path, twisting around to an extended part of the estate that you hadn’t been to. There, in front of you, was a most beautiful sight to behold.

Ruby red leaves sprouted out of ashen branches, twisting upwards towards the sky.

A Weirwood tree.

And a very old one by the looks of it.

“The Godswood.” Helaena explained to you, taking you closer to it.

You were so entranced by its incredible beauty, thinking of how Cregan's description of his back home didn't do it justice, that you hadn’t even noticed the man that sat amongst its roots, leant back on the trunk.

Aemond Targaryen sat beneath the branches and leaves of a tree that had been a symbol of the Old Gods to his family for hundreds of years. One leg was stretched out in front of him, whilst the other was bent, his long arms crossed over the top of his knee lazily.

He watched you as you came towards him, words caught in your throat.

The light that peaked through the tips of the branches shimmered down on his pale hair, causing it to glimmer with each parting of the leaves from the breeze that rolled through. His face looked flat, emotionless.

Blank.

Helaena’s hand slipped away from yours and you turned to look at her. She gave you a soft smile, before she walked away without a word, leaving you in the small Godswood courtyard with her brother.

You stood for a moment or two, the both of you watching each other before your legs pulled you towards him. You moved to sit beside the long limbed man, pulling your knees up to your chest as you kept your eyes straight ahead, not wanting to make him feel overcrowded, or as if he was being observed. Instead, you hoped that your presence was, at least, the tiniest bit of comfort if he needed it.

You weren’t sure what to do or say as you sat together, both staring off into the distance as the soft rustling of leaves moved overhead. If not for the death that had occurred in the early hours of the morning, the day would have been beautiful.

It was like that for a while, just the both of you. Basking in each others company silently, and yet you felt the need to do more. To say more. To show him more. To show him that you cared, to try and rebuild that bridge that had been torched between the two of you, in the way he had attempted to last night.

You felt guilt knowing that he would have woken up to not only an empty bed, but the news of the death of his father in a Keep he didn’t want to be in, surrounded by people he so desperately tried to avoid.

Tendons and veins pulled beneath the skin of Aemond pale hand as he rubbed a thumb and forefinger together atop his knee.

It was always his hands. Something you had learned rather quickly about him. His hands always moved when in thought, when irritated, lost, or angry.

Any strong emotion caused the man to fidget.

It was a habit that he shared with Helaena, no doubt inherited by their mother.

With no other way to convey what you were feeling, you lifted your hand and placed it atop his. His hand was warm, and twitched beneath yours. Aemond, without wasting a second, flipped his over and held onto yours tightly, threading his fingers through yours atop his knee.

Silence stretched forever until-

“I don’t mourn him.” Aemond’s voice moved with the breeze, soft and quiet, gently carried away from the courtyard, and you felt a pull of sorrow for him deep within your chest.

“We weren’t ever close. Cole was more a father to me than him.” There was a hollowness to his words which you would argue was grief, until he continued, “I don’t grieve the man he was, I grieve the father he could have been to me. The father he should have been to me. Something that I never had.”

Tears prickled in your eyes for him.

Gods.

Why had life been so cruel to this man?

A soft chuckle floated from his lips, a stark difference to his demeanour before, “I used to try so hard to impress him when I was young. Studied, learnt our traditional tongue before any of my other siblings did, and even then, it wasn’t enough for him. I was never enough for him. He was sick, yes,” Frustration bled from his shoulders, tense and closed in, “But he had more time for them than us.”

There was the anger.

Sorrow.

Spite.

Aemond Targaryen had felt he had been in his nephews shadow his whole life.

And it showed.

“It was worse for Aegon. First son and all. A shiny new toy for Viserys before his expectations became too high for Egg and he rebelled. Then nothing he would do could impress the man.”

You squeezed his hand tightly, shuffling across the hard roots of the tree to get closer to him, leaning your shoulder heavily against his, so he could feel your weight, so he could feel the heat of your body. To comfort him, to be there for him, all while not being smothering.

“I’m sorry, Aemond.”

He shook his head, long strand of silver falling over his shoulder as he looked at you, “Don’t be.”

Silence fell over you again, and you watched as a lone red leaf, pointed sides and all, slowly drifted from above the two of you down onto the grassy ground below. It swooped from side to side, spinning gently before soundlessly falling amongst green blades.

You didn’t want him to be alone.

You didn’t want him to feel isolated.

And in your restless, sleepless night, you had thought about him.

“It’s going to be okay.” You whispered, and watched as he turned his head to look back at you, his lone eye searching your face.

Your thumb soothed over his gently, your words having more than one meaning.

His bottom lip was pulled into his mouth by his teeth, and then his voice came up and out from deep within his chest as he gazed at you intensely, clouded eye unmoving, and the sun shining down onto his scarred side of his face.

“Stay.” He asked you for the very first time.

A stark opposite to all the times you had uttered that word to him.

Asked him to stay with you.

It was first time he spoke that four lettered word to you, beneath the crimson leaves of the ancient Godswood in a home that he had grown in.

You heeded his request.

Together, you sat beneath the branches and looked up through them, side by side in a wordless promise to each other.

Stay.

The next few days were a whirlwind. The funeral was held on the grounds of the estate, people from all over flying in to say their goodbyes to the patriarch of House Targaryen.

At first you had asked Helaena if you could go back home, not wanting to intrude on her families grief, but she had insisted, no, begged for you to stay for the funeral.

And so you had.

It was an intense and sad ordeal, but not once did you leave Helaena or Aemond’s side. You stuck by them both, and he always came to you.

Crossing the kitchen to come to you. Crossing the dining table outside to come to you. Crossing the hall to come to Helaena’s room and sit on the bed with the two of you, happy to be just in your presence and not say a thing.

Aegon had silently cried at the funeral. The only child of Alicent to do so. You had watched as fat tears rolled down his rosy cheeks, eyes cast at the coffin of his father, as his mother stood stoically beside him.

Alicent Hightower had cried softly when she had read the eulogy, then followed by Rhaenyra and Daemon's. It was the only time that you felt you would ever see the pair look out of their usual controlled demeanour.

After the funeral, there was the service, where all came to Rhaenyra and Alicent to offer their condolences, the two women standing side by side in all black. At one point, you had watched as Alicent’s pinky reached out, searching for Rhaenyra’s hand. It had curled against the other woman’s, and you watched as the other tilted her head slightly in shock, before she made a larger move, and curled her hand directly around the auburn haired woman’s beside her.

It was days after the funeral before all of you were back together again, side by side.

It had been a long day, longer than the last, and the night had bled into the sky in a deep purple before turning to its deeper shade of blue. Aegon had done rounds, going to each and every room to tell all to meet him down at the pool for some well needed drinks.

Aemond had been sat at Helaena’s vanity watching the two of you sit on the bed and softly giggle at a message Sara had sent her, your silver haired friend more intent on moving forward than looking back.

Hand in Helaena’s, you led her and Aemond down to the pool, not bothering to put swimmers on.

It was dark outside, the usual lights strung about the garden having been turned off, the only source of light coming from the moon, the stars, and the smaller lights that edged around the pools perimeter.

The others were already there, you having seemingly been the last pitstop, passing around popped bottles of champagne, wine and beer. There was the sweet, dank smell of Aegon’s weed again in the air, the short haired man leant back on his elbows as he looked up at the sky, bottle of Moët in one hand.

It was awkward at first, what with Jacaerys and Aemond’s outburst the last time you were all together before the funeral, but before long, and with the help of your trusty liquid courage, all seemed to melt into the numb feeling that the alcohol brought them.

You laid back in one of the armchairs, Helaena, between your legs, head resting on your stomach as you brushed the silver strands away from her face as she looked up at the stars. Aemond watched from beside you, having pulled over one of the other poolside chairs.

The twins, and the brown haired boys were sat at the waters edge with Aegon, their legs dangling into the pool as they swung them softly back and forth, drinking and talking quietly amongst themselves.

Daeron, having disappeared for a moment, came back with his speaker, softly playing music through it to fill the gentle quiet that surrounded you all.

It was soft, calm, and peaceful enough for such a tumultuous time, and as the night got longer, and bottles of alcohol became drained, blunts were passed, and inhibitions were lowered, smiles and laughter were shared amongst all.

Even Aemond.

But that stillness was disturbed when the tipsy, brown haired Lucerys stood and faced everyone, bottle of red wine in hand. The smiles dissipated, and a serious energy floated amongst everyone again.

“I want to make a toast.” The young man said with drunken confidence, thrusting out the wine bottle towards Aegon, “To Viserys.”

Jacaerys lifted his beer towards his younger brother, the twins following suit with their cans of fruity mixer.

Lucerys’ eyes fell on Aemond, before his lips pulled down solemnly, turning away to roam his gaze on everyone else, “He wasn’t a perfect man-”

Aemond quietly scoffed beside you.

“-But if it wasn’t for him, none of us would be here.”

Aegon hummed in agreement, sipping deeply from his almost empty bottle of Moët.

Lucerys’s gaze fell to you as he scratched the back of his neck, “Except you, Y/n. You’d still be here. Well, not here here. But you’d still-“

“-Alright, move it on.” Baela joked lovingly at him as he began to ramble.

Straightening his posture, Luc thrust his wine up to the sky, “To Viserys.”

All lifted their drinks up to toast, bar Aemond, hands bringing wine to their lips, beer to their mouths, or champagne to their tongues. You offered Aemond a small, sad smile, and he returned it, sipping at his beer in thought.

It wasn’t a full toast per-say like the others, but he drank in the mans honour regardless.

A large palm opened up towards you, pale fingers lazily spread in offering. You looked at his long digits, signet ring on one.

“Come here.” Aemond hummed, gentle look in his eye.

Helaena pulled herself from your lap and looked at her brother, “I thought you’d never ask!” She chirped playfully, and he rolled his eye at her.

A small giggle fell from your lips as you looked at his hand again. Still outstretched towards you in front of everyone.

In front of everyone.

Your heart raced in your chest as you stood, placing your hand in his, the warmth of his palm spreading up your arm as you moved over to Aemond, who pulled you between his long legs in a similar way you had done with Helaena. His legs were bent on either side of you with your back against his chest. You felt his chin dip to rest at the top of your head, and a warmth spread through your chest like wildfire.

Helaena smiled at your warmly as Aegon craned his neck backwards to look at the two of you.

“How long has this been going on?” He teased, glassy eyes narrowing on the both of you.

Lucerys, who had sat back down beside his brother after his toast, turned around with Jacaerys to observe. And when their heads turned, the others followed.

Heat rose in your cheeks and you felt a sudden shyness at it all. The urge to hide was strong.

But really, what was this?

You didn’t know.

But it was something.

Something more than before.

But still, you didn’t have an answer, so you moved to respond.

“Oh, we’re n-“

“-A while. I was just a dick about it.” Aemond interrupted you, and your heart soared.

Did he -

Did he just-

Did he just confirm your thoughts?

Did he just validate your feelings?

Answer all your burning questions that had kept you awake at night?

A while.

That implied that this was more.

That this had always been more.

That this was solid.

That this was-

“So that’s why you wouldn’t fuck me.” Aegon pouted, smirk pulling at his lips.

Aemond sighed heavily behind you, “That and the fact that you’re utterly repulsive.”

Aegon’s mouth dropped open as he stared at his brother, “You wound me! I’ll have you know that there are plenty of people who haven’t found me repulsive.”

“Too many, if you ask me.” Helaena snickered.

Aegon flicked his joint at his sister, standing straight as he looked down at everyone.

“Good thing I didn't ask you. I’ll have you know I’m polyglamourous.” Hands on his hips.

“Polyamorous.” Daeron corrected his brother.

Aegon grinned, victory in his cheeks, “I meant what I said.”

Aemond’s hand rubbed up and down your thigh soothingly as the night moved on, goosebumps rising on your flesh with each stroke of his long fingers. His chest was warm against your back, and you felt that you could fall asleep from where you were.

Helaena squealed at her phone loudly, breaking you from your fatigued thoughts.

“What is it?” You turned to face her, watching as a large grin pulled at her lips.

“Sara got us tickets to see the Phantom of the Opera!”

“What!”

“Yes!” She shook her phone in her hand whilst she screamed in excitement, “I can’t believe she remembered!”

Aemond chuckled from behind you, chest vibrating against your back, “Of course she'd remember. She’s in love with you.”

Your best friend suddenly became shy, a blush rising on her cheeks rapidly, turning them a bright red that even in the darkness of the night, you could see, “I know that. I just can’t believe it.”

“I’m jealous. Ask her where my ticket is.” You teased, “So I guess this means I’ll be seeing more of Sara again?”

Helaena gave you a knowing smirk, and you gave her one right back.

You were happy for her.

Really happy.

They were perfect for each other. And you always knew that they would get back together again. That and Helaena always told you so, and Helaena was never wrong.

Aegon having come round to where you sat, snatched his sisters bottle of Prosecco, downing the remainder in one gulp, a refreshed and exaggerated gasp filling the air as he ruffled her hair, a growl and swat of a hand coming for his arm which he dodged last second.

Aegon giggled, running around the rim of the pool, shoes kicked in one direction, socks thrown in the other, shirt torn from his back in one yank, and then came his pants. Your eyes widened as Aegon stripped himself nude before jumping into the pool with a yell.

He emerged from the cool water with a flick of his wet hair laughing, sending a hand splashing towards the twins and he smiled, “Come onnnn, live a little! Get in!”

Baela and Rhaena gave each other a shared look before standing, stripping themselves of their clothes before jumping in, hand in hand.

Before you knew it, you were all stripped bare, splashing about in the pool laughing and swimming around.

Even Aemond.

His cheeks were pulled taut by the grin plastered to his face as he swam towards you, tickling your sides as you screamed for backup from Baela and Rhaena, who swam towards you, a flurry of splashes and squeals until his large palms rose above the water and conceded.

Aegon pulled another spliff from the side of the pool and passed it around, and although it was dark, and you couldn’t see the details of anyones bodies, you still felt slightly shy in knowing that not only were you naked, but you were naked with a certain someone pressed up against your back.

At one point, you could have sworn you felt his cock twitch against the cheek of your ass, but you shrugged it off, going to the others as they tossed a ball like piggy in the middle back and forth, little Lucerys in the centre trying to jump up to catch it with all his might.

Eventually the water grew cold, and as you swam to sip at some of Baela’s drink, Aemond slid from behind you, hand wrapping around your waist. Heat spread through you as you felt him press up against you, mouth beside your ear.

“I think it's time for bed, don’t you?” He whispered hoarsely.

You bit your lip turning your head to try and sneak a peak at him, but was interrupted by a loud and obnoxious wolf whistle.

Aegon grinned at you both, “No fucking in mummy’s pool.”

“Ugh, Aegon. What the fuck.” Helaena grimaced.

A laugh exploded from your lips as you turned to look at Aemond, who was chewing the inside of his cheek, desperate to hide the smirk that was rising on his face.

“Come on.” He urged you, tilting his head to outside of the pool.

You climbed out with his help, getting dressed, all the while Aegon continued to whistle at the two of you and make obscene noises. But it was short lived as Helaena pushed Aegon’s head under water with all her weight, Jacaerys and Luc clapping in laughter.

You saw this as your out and grabbed Aemond’s hand, racing him through the Keep in fits of giggles until you reached his room, anticipation strumming in your gut. You watched as he shut the door behind him, turning to face you. His hair was wet, much like yours, and he advanced on you slowly, energy bouncing around inside of you.

“Come here.” He beckoned you with a finger, soft smirk on his lips.

You shook your head at him cheekily, “Nuh uh.”

His head tilted as he looked at you, “Please.”

Your feet carried you towards him, a magnetic pull dragging your chest to his. He smiled warmly down at you, cupping your cheek with one hand as the other dragged a wet strand of hair away from your face.

“Beautiful.” He praised you, before dipping his head down to kiss you.

Aemond bent slightly as your arms wrapped around his neck, large hands wrapping around your thighs as he hoisted you up into his arms, carrying you towards the bed as you didn’t once break the kiss.

It wasn’t hurried like the last time.

It wasn’t frenzied.

This time, you took your time with each other.

Aemond stripped you of your wet clothes and brought you to your peak on his tongue, his name whispered from your mouth like a prayer. He hovered above you as he slid in, watching the way your mouth opened and brows furrowed at the stretch, his lips pressing sweet kisses to the side of your face as he slowly moved through your folds, the tip of his cock rubbing against every point within you.

“So fucking beautiful.” He praised you as you fell apart once again on his cock, walls gripping his length tightly as you keened and whined, hands gripping the sheets for dear life as he smiled sweetly at you.

This was a side of Aemond you hadn’t seen before, and a side you hoped to see more.

He came with a quiet moan of your name, head dipping down into the crux of your neck as he planted kiss after kiss there.

You spent the rest of your night together curled in each others embrace, falling asleep with one word echoing in your mind.

Stay.

Waking up in a dark green and black room was disorientating at first, probably exacerbated by the steady strumming of a slight hangover in the back of your mind. But the warmth of two strong arms wrapped around you, and the familiar scent of Aemond that filled the space between, reminded you of where you were, and who you were with.

Your eyes opened as you looked up at him. His good eye still shut, chest rising and falling slowly.

Everything had happened so fast.

It was as if a match had been lit and set you both ablaze. The two of you burning together hotly, in more ways than one. Your tempers. Your stubbornness, but more importantly, your desire to be with one another.

It was different with him.

Unlike anyone else before.

Passionate.

Fiery.

All encompassing.

And you relished in it.

Relished in the fact that not only was it real, not only tangible, but Aemond had made it open last night as he had pulled you into his lap in front of everyone, and verbally confirmed what had been happening all along.

You weren’t ‘Helaena’s roommate’.

You were more.

You knew that now.

His confession for his love for you however, was something that the two of you would dissect on a later date. But right now? You would be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same way. Didn’t feel the same pull in your heart towards him when he would smile, or laugh, or just look at you. Or how your body would be set alight with even just a touch of his hand.

Aemond Targaryen had you well and truly under his spell.

And there was no other place you’d rather be.

Aemond shifted beside you, eye blinking open sleepily before he looked down at you.

“Morning.” His voice crackled with sleep, mouth opening in a small yawn before he pressed a kiss to the top of your forehead.

Your heart raced in your chest.

“Morning.”

Aemond squeezed you to him tighter as he stretched out the fatigue in his limbs, a whiny grunt escaping his lips.

That was noise you hadn’t heard before.

He sounded content.

Comfortable.

Safe.

But there was still one final thing.

You wanted to be sure that last night wasn’t just a drunken little display, or a declaration emboldened by the grief around the others tainted by possessiveness against Jacaerys.

“What happens now?” You asked quietly, watching as he blinked at you again.

“Whatever happens, happens.” His voice was deep, lulling you into a calm, “But I know I want to be with you.”

Here it was.

“Are you sure?” Your eyes searched his face.

This was it.

His last chance to back out.

His last chance to say no.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”

You couldn’t contain the grin that creeped on your face, hands pulling him down into a relieved kiss, pouring your adoration and care for him into it as much as you could.

He returned it equally with fever.

Heat ran through you as you pressed yourself closer to him, gasping into his mouth as you felt his cock twitch against your thigh. Aemond groaned into the kiss but pulled away.

You looked at him in confusion.

“Come on, we got to have breakfast with the others.”

You whined, plopping back into the pillows with a huff, “I don’t want to.”

Aemond chuckled from beside you, sitting up in the bed as he ripped the sheets away from your body, exposing your naked form. You rolled over onto your stomach, hiding your face in the pillow as you whined.

Two light smacks landed on the cheek of your ass, and you cried out in surprise, “Come on, grumpy.” He teased, “I’ll give you what you want after. But first, we need to eat.”

At the promise of getting what you wanted, you rolled out of bed, begrudgingly, looking at your semi wet pile of clothes in disgust.

You could do a run down the hall to Helaena’s room, but you could also be spotted running nude through the estate, which to you, didn’t seem appropriate considering the funeral held there only a few days past.

Aemond must have noticed your predicament, “Here.” He came over to you, handing you one of his black shirts and those grey sweats you loved so much.

You threw them on, the top coming down to your mid thigh. The pants however, didn’t stay up, and kept sliding down your legs no matter how much you tightened the strings or rolled them at your hips.

Aemond laughed at you as you stepped out of the pants and threw them at him in a huff.

“I need pants.” You whined, searching his room.

“Would prefer it if you didn’t.” He raised a brow at you.

Your core clenched around nothing as you looked at him, his stance challenging you to obey.

So this is the game he wanted to play.

Smirking, you turned to the door, opening it up, “Come on. We will be late.”

You left without looking back, not getting to see the way Aemond’s tongue poked into his cheek, watching you trot out of his room clad in his shirt.

Only his shirt.

The others were seated at the table outside picking at the spread. They all greeted you both as you moved sit down, except Aegon, who’s head was in his arms atop the table as he groaned dramatically and loudly for all to hear.

“Is he alright?” You asked Helaena, watching as she rolled her eyes at her older brothers antics.

“He’s fine. He’s just a drama Queen.”

“Drama King.” He grumbled back.

You ate together for a while before catching Helaena’s attention, it wasn’t something you wished to do, but it was something you had to nonetheless.

You had to go home, and what was more, you had to go back to work.

“Hel, is Criston around today?” You asked, plopping a sweet piece of watermelon into your mouth.

“I think so. Mum’s home today. Why?” Her head leant against her hand as she twirled one of her dragonfly earrings in between her fingers.

“I have to go back to work. I’ve used far too much of your mothers generosity, and uni starts back up next week.”

Helaena sat up straighter, “Holy shit, that’s next week?”

You nodded, “Yep. Not looking forward to Orwyle’s Citadel History class. Man could bore you to tears. I think I’ve actually cried once or twice.” You joked, rolling around a slice of starfruit on your plate before plopping it into your mouth, enjoying the sweet nectar that coated your tongue.

“Are you going to take Rhaenyra’s offer?” Helaena asked, eyes flitting from you and then to Aemond.

“What offer?” Came the grumbling groan of Aegon, his head lifting momentarily to look at you.

If he wasn’t speaking and breathing in front of you, you would have mistaken the man for being dead. Dark rings sat beneath his eyes, and his pale skin had a sallow dullness to it that made him look almost grey.

“Rhaenyra offered her a job at her firm.” Helaena confirmed.

Aegon grunted, dropping his head back into his arms.

“I didn’t know she offered you a job.” Aemond looked at you from the side, brows pulling slightly.

Why did you feel a slight stab guilt in not telling him?

But how could you have?

It had been a whirlwind since she spoke to you.

The offer.

Aemond returning.

Your spat.

Your make up.

Viserys’ death.

It didn’t seem like the right thing to bring up at that time, and if you were being truly honest, you hadn’t even thought of it since his arrival.

“I didn’t have the chance to tell you with everything that’s happened.”

Aemond hummed, and so you continued, turning to face Helaena, “I think so. I need to give it a proper thought when I get home though.”

Helaena nodded at you, “I’ll speak to Cole after breakfast.” She promised, and resumed her eating.

You thanked her with a smile before doing the same.

“You should take it.”

His words came as a surprise.

You placed your fork back onto the plate as you looked at the man at your side. His face was honest and open, there wasn’t a sneer or grimace, or even the straight line that his lips did when he was upset.

He was being genuine.

You brows twitched as you wordlessly urged him to continue.

“My sister, despite everything, is a hard worker. She’ll look after you and make sure you’re taken care of. Besides, her firm is likely more your style anyway.”

“What do you mean by that?” You probed casually, trying to hide your real intrigue behind another piece of fruit in your mouth.

“More…” Aemond thought for a second, and then it came with a cheeky smirk, “Woman led.”

Helaena stayed true to her word and had Cole come to take you home, or at least, back to the private runway where that sleek jet picked you up once again.

You said your goodbyes to all, giving everyone a tight squeeze, especially Alicent Hightower, who you thanked for her endless generosity in having you there at such a tough time.

However, you wouldn’t be going home alone. Aemond was coming with you, citing the need to be with you, and the need to get away from a place he hated.

When you moved to say your goodbyes to your best friend, you asked her when she would be back with you, mind wondering when you would need to part ways with Aemond's presence.

“I’m going to stay here for the next month." She told you, "I’ve already emailed uni.”

“The next month?” You felt sadness in your chest. Another month without your best friend.

You were going to miss her.

“Yeah,” She kicked at the gravel at her feet, “Mum needs me here for the solicitors and the Will and Testimony reading.”

“Oh? Are you going to be okay?”

Helaena pulled you in for a hug and whispered into your ear, “I’m going to be taken away in a straight jacket by the end of this.” Before pulling back to smile again, cheekier this time, “Besides, I’m sure Aemond will keep you company.”

His smooth voice came from beside you, “I have no plans on leaving.”

The flight home was quick with his company, and on more than one occasion, you had to swat his hands away from you as he whispered the chance of joining the mile high club in his mothers jet.

It felt good to be home as you stepped through the front door, dropping your keys in the empty bowl, followed by the sound of Aemond dropping his in beside it.

It made you smile, the familiar scent of your apartment, the soft glow of light, it's tidiness perfect for your arrival home. You turned back, grin tugging on your lips to look at the man behind you, only to see him looking at you hungrily.

You continued forward, butterflied erupting in your stomach as you felt the warmth of his gaze behind you. You dropped your bags in the lounge room and stretched your arms up high, the day dress you were wearing sliding up your thighs.

Aemond watched you with a hooded eye, and the heat you had felt that morning came back tenfold.

And then you remembered.

“You didn’t make do on your promise.” You smirked.

Aemond raised a brow at you as he dropped his bags next to yours, hands flexing at his side, urging you to elaborate.

“You said you’d give me what I want after breakfast." You purred, "It’s past lunch.”

The silver haired man’s lip twitched as he looked at you, tongue in cheek, “Look whose gotten all bratty the moment we get home.”

Home.

The word sent heat straight to your core.

“Not my fault you're a liar.” You teased back, feeling confident to push him now that you knew where you stood. Now that you were home, away from his family, away from it all. It was now just the two of you.

You and him.

“A liar?”

“Uh huh.”

“Did I say when I would?”

You brows furrowed, “After breakfast.”

“And is lunch not after breakfast?”

Your eyes narrowed at him.

“Dick.”

Aemond’s demeanour changed entirely, posture straightening which gave him an extra inch of height. He looked down his nose at you as he watched you take a smirking step back, “Come here.”

You had to push down the flurry of excitement that almost unleashed a giggle into the room, “Make me.”

Your chest rose and fell sharply as you watched Aemond take a slow step towards you, and then another.

“Last chance, baby. Come here.”

"No."

Spinning on your heel you ran towards your room, Aemond's boots beating on the floorboards behind you coming closer. Hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you up, squeal erupting from your chest as you tried to wriggle out of his grip.

“That was very naughty of you.” His voice whispered hoarsely at your ear from behind, hot breath fanning down your neck.

You stifled a whimper as his fingers dug into your skin before he threw you down onto the bed, face first. Your hands flew outwards, catching yourself as your hips hit the end of the bed. Aemond was on you in an instant, pawing at your dress as he ripped it off of you.

“This what you want, huh? Want me to put you in your place? Little brat.”

Your hands moved behind you to tried to slap his arms as he yanked your panties down your legs in one long swoop. Aemond tutted from behind you as he kicked your legs apart, your lip caught in your teeth as you tried not to whimper.

“Look at you. Already soaked. Such a dirty little slut, aren’t you?”

His hand cast down onto the flesh of your ass and you cried out, back arching as the delicious sting spread through your skin. He pulled your cheeks apart roughly and spat onto your dripping entrance.

“Filthy little fuck hole.” Aemond growled, and you mewled as you felt his spit run between your thighs and drip down onto the floor below.

His fingers smeared his spit into your folds, parting them easily as he looked down at you and cooed, your head craning back to watch him as he chuckled darkly, “What am I going to do with you, hm? You want me to fuck this pretty little pussy, baby?”

Your legs tried to shut so that you could apply pressure with the squeezing of your thighs, but Aemond's legs were in the way, preventing you from getting any release of the tingling that spread through your aching centre.

“Please.” You murmured, pouting at him the best you could in the hopes that it would entice him to take you right then and there.

Another chuckle rumbled in his chest as he let one long finger circle around your entrance, the tip of it just barely pushing inside before it came back out again, teasing you.

“I don’t think you deserve it.” He hummed.

“Please, Aemond.”

“Not my name, sweetheart.”

A shiver ran down your spine, your eyes sliding shut, “Please daddy.”

The warmth from his body disappeared as he stepped back, your eyes opening to find him looking down at you with a stern face. Your heart raced in your chest, his height towering over you, dominance dripping from his every fibre of his being.

“Kneel.”

Gods be good.

Your eyes widened as you stared at him, his hands coming to undo his belt buckle slowly, watching as you didn’t move. He pulled the belt slowly from the loops, to soft flipp loud in the room. The belt dropped to the floor with a thud.

“I said,” Aemond moved quicker than you could react, grabbing a fist full of your hair and dragging you off of the bed onto your knees, “Kneel.”

The wooden floor bit into the skin on your knees sharply, but it was dull in comparison to the sheer desire to be ravaged by the man in front of you.

Long fingers slowly dragged down the zipper of his pants, opening it with languid movements as he kept his eye completely and utterly upon your face.

“Were you being bratty to get a reaction?”

You watched as he pulled his hard length from his briefs, running his fist from base to top slowly, the tip leaking a drop of precum that he smeared down his shaft.

Aemond hummed, “What? Can’t talk now?”

You shook your head defiantly as he took a step closer, “I’m going to ask you one last time,” His voice grew deeper, darker, and it added to the slick that was settling in the crux of your thighs, “Were you being bratty to get a reaction?”

You shook your head.

No.

Liar.

Aemond clicked his tongue at you in disappointment before sighing loudly, “Thought you’d say that. I’ve got a better use for that mouth of yours.” One hand in your hair, he tugged you forward, “Open.”

You don’t know what it was about this man, or what he did to you to make you the way you were with him. The way he absolutely ruined every inch of your mind and thoughts, the urge to both please him and defy him coursing through you all at once, but you wouldn’t give in. No, you needed him to react, you needed him to take what he wanted from you with force.

So biting the insides of your cheeks to keep you from smiling, you defiantly kept your mouth shut as you looked up at him from your knees.

The corner of his lip twitched as he hummed at you.

The sting across your cheek came quickly and stunned you enough to open your mouth in a gasp, exactly as he had planned when he slapped you. He grabbed your jaw with the entirety of his hand and squeezed at the joint meanly, mouth falling open further in pain.

Aemond slid his cock straight into your open lips, his heady weight sitting upon your tongue as he looked down at you, still holding the base with one hand, your jaw in the other.

“There you go. Far more useful with my cock in your mouth.” He grunted, pulling out slowly as you curled your tongue upwards, running it along the underside of his shaft, pressing into the long vein that travelled along it.

Aemond began to thrust into the back of your throat, letting go of the base so that the whole length of him would slide into your mouth. His cock was salty on your tongue, hot, swollen, and heavy in your mouth as he forced you to take him as deep as it would go.

You gagged on his length, eyes watering as you shut them tightly.

Two little slaps on your cheek made your eyes open back up, staring at him as he looked down at you, “Eyes on me while I fuck this pretty little mouth of yours.”

You moaned around his length, thighs rubbing together in an attempt to relieve the tension that was building between them. But it was fruitless. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t what you needed, and what you needed was his fingers, his tongue, or his cock inside of you.

The silver haired man thrusted into your mouth the way he would into your cunt, deep, long and hard, his tip beating against the back of your throat as he used you for his own pleasure.

It was exhilarating, intoxicating, and exactly what you had wanted.

You wanted him to use you like this, to get it all out, to get out all the tension that had been hovering over him the minute he stepped into the Keep.

He needed this just as much as you did.

A thick line of saliva ran down your chin, dripping onto your thighs below as both hands wrapped around the sides and back of your skull, dragging your head up and down his length roughly. His brow was furrowed as he watched, mouth agape as he breathed shallowly and grunted.

“Look at you," He cooed down at you, "Just a hole for me to fuck. Just a little slut begging for daddy’s cock, isn’t that right?”

You hummed around his length, sucking your cheeks inwards as much as you could. Aemond hissed at the pressure, eye sliding shut momentarily as his hips stuttered.

It was a glorious sight.

You below him, looking up as his head was thrown back, ecstasy breaking out on his features as his pearly hair cascaded around his shoulders.

Your head was pulled away, length slipping from your lips as you gasped for air, a line of spit connecting you to his tip as he cooed at you.

“Open.”

You opened your mouth wider, tongue poking out for him. His cheeks hollowed and then Aemond spat onto your tongue, its warmth spreading from your mouth, all the way through your body.

You moved to shut your mouth to swallow for him like you thought he wanted, but he stopped you with a finger, pressing down on your tongue as he smeared his spit along the wet, pink muscle messily.

With little care, two fingers slid down to the back of your throat as he looked at you, your mouth still open waiting for a command. Aemond slowly fucked your throat with his fingers, grinning at the small gags that he elicited from the action, before pulling his fingers from your mouth, smearing his spit and yours across your face, the wetness sticking to your heated cheeks.

“Such a messy girl. So dirty.” He purred, lining his cock back up to your mouth which you took with ease, except this time, Aemond didn’t fuck your throat.

He slid his length all the way down your throat, cock pressing into your gag reflex and blocking off your air. Your nose met his pelvis as he looked down at you, shaking your head slightly side to side on his length.

“Hold it.” He growled, watching as a tear ran down your cheek as you tried to not cough or splutter on his length, chest heaving as you gagged, no air being able to pass through your nose.

Your head grew dizzy as you looked at him, lungs beginning to burn, but still he didn’t let you pull back. Holding you down onto him by the back of your head.

Your hands flew to his thighs for grip as you tried to pull away, but Aemond kept his cock nestled deeply in your throat.

“You can do it, pretty girl." He told you, "Five more seconds.”

Another tear slid down your cheek, the weight of him in your throat making your core flutter around nothing.

“Five.” He began to count down, watching as you squirmed below him.

“Four.” Your nails dug into his flesh harshly as you tried to keep on him, throat swallowing around him tightly in reflex, causing a shiver to roll through his body.

“Three.”

“Two.” He grunted, pulling you down harder on his length causing more tears to fall from your eyes.

“One.”

Aemond pulled you off his length, your lungs burning as you gasped in a lungful of air, spluttering and coughing at his feet.

“Good girl.” He praised, wiping the tears from your cheeks that had left wet tracks down your face.

You coughed softly, throat aching and head spinning, feeling embarrassed and aroused all in one. The head rush from lack of air was almost as intense as the head rush you got from your desire.

“Open.”

You licked your lips and swallowed doing as you were told, feeling Aemond slide his cock slowly into the back of your throat again, but this time, you inhaled a large lungful of air in preparation. He pulled your head down all the way, nose nestled into the hair at his base as he looked down at you.

“Good girl, baby. Look at you.” You moaned around his length, feeling tears in your eyes again as he nudged your gag reflex.

“Hold it.” His voice cracked, watching a tear slide down your cheek as he brushed hair away from your forehead gently, “You're going to hold it for ten this time.”

Ten.

Oh shit.

You didn't know if you could.

But you wanted to please him.

You wanted to be good for him.

“Ten.” Aemond began to count down again, pushing his hips slightly forward, making his cock go even deeper than you thought it could, throat bulging slightly from his length, your eyes widening as you squirmed below.

“Nine.”

“Eight.”

“Seven.” Your core clenched as he counted, watching through blurry eyes as he looked at you on your knees before him.

“S-ix.” He moaned, eye sliding shut as he felt your throat closing around him as your body tried to swallow the blockage that was his cock.

“Five.”

The room spun slightly and you began to shift below him, brain controlling you as it tried to pull you away to get air into your lungs instinctually.

“Four." Heat rose in your cheeks as you squirmed, head trying to move backwards from his grip.

"Stay still." He growled down at you. Despite his command, you still wriggled, slick sliding between your thighs as it began to drip down onto the floor below.

“Almost there, baby. Three.”

Your arms tried to push yourself back, pure instinct taking over, your hands on his thighs, vision in the corner of your eyes going dark.

Was he purposely counting slow?

Oh Gods.

He was.

“Two.”

You were almost there. Your fingers fisted against his thighs, and despite his face being blurred by your tears above, you couldn’t help but notice the sadistic smile that pulled at his sharp lips.

“Two and three quarters.”

Dick.

Your eyes narrowed at him, causing the man to chuckle.

“One.”

You ripped yourself away with a gasp, falling backwards onto your bum as you coughed and spluttered, drool hanging from your lips as you tried to steady your breathing.

Aemond knelt in front of you, swiping up the spit on your chin, “Good girl. Such a good girl for me - You did so well.” You keened at his praise, leaning into his hand.

Aemond helped you to stand, pulling you over onto the bed as he stripped himself bare, watching as you still fought to catch your breath, devouring him with lust filled eyes and swollen lips.

“Let's see how wet you are from me using your mouth like that, hm?”

You parted your legs on instinct, giving him view of your glistening folds.

Aemond inhaled sharply, “Look how fucking wet you are. You're dripping all over the bed.”

You nodded your head dumbly, brain feeling light as a feather. You didn’t know if it was from the lack of previous airflow, or if it was the way he was treating you, slowly sinking you down into the comfortable little space you loved to float in with him.

“Are you all dumb, baby?” He meanly cooed at you with a sadistic pout, stroking the hair atop your head.

You nodded again as he chuckled at you, running his fingers through your slick folds, the sound of him parting them obscenely wet.

“Just from being daddy’s little fuck hole?”

You moaned, pushing your centre into his hand as he swirled a digit around your swollen clit, sparks of pleasure flying up inside of you. His finger dipped inside of you, immediately crooking upwards into the spot you needed it most.

“Look at this needy little pussy sucking me in. Do you need daddy to help you?”

You moaned at him, thrusting your hips downwards onto his hand as he added another finger, beginning to fuck them inside of you.

“Use your words.”

It took whatever remaining braincell that was left inside your head to string together one measly word, “Please.”

Aemond smirked, “Please what, little dummy.”

You whined, shutting your eyes as heat flooded your cheeks.

“Come on. Use your big girl words or you won’t get anything.”

“Please, daddy. P-please fuck me.”

Aemond smiled victoriously, kissing a tear that was drying against your cheek, “There we go. That must have been real hard when you're all dumb, wasn’t it?

You whined at his teasing, and then again when he removed his fingers.

“Shh.” He hushed you, “Daddy’s going to give you just what you need.”

And he did.

Aemond slid into you immediately, aided by how wet and open you were for him. He sighed into the crook of your neck, your legs immediately wrapping around him as he began to fuck into you, slowly building up the pace.

Your breasts bounced with each thrust, his hips snapping into your own as pleasure bloomed within. You moaned and cried beneath him, his pelvis rubbing against your swollen bud with each deep and rough thrust he gave you.

“You gonna cum already? I can feel you gripping me.” He huffed, watching his length disappear into your folds.

“Please.” You wailed, hands gripping the sheets beside you tightly in your fists as you begged him with your eyes.

Aemond took pity on you and slid a hand down to your pearl, rolling it in time with his thrusts, “Come on then. Cum on my cock.”

It took four sharp thrusts before your eyes screwed shut, stars appearing behind them as you came with an earth shattering cry. Aemond fucked you through it, hips and hand not once still until you were a sobbing and slick mess beneath him.

“Fucked the brat right out of you, didn’t I? Pretty little baby.” He moaned, rutting into your centre as the sound of your arousal surrounded you, the hair at the base of his cock soaked with your release, “Just needed me to fuck you stupid, didn’t you?”

You couldn’t form any words, mouth hanging open as little whines and pants flittered off of your tongue. It was overwhelming, and the pleasure of your first peak was yet to settle, bliss sizzling and burning within your gut in a way that continued to mount as he kept rubbing your pearl.

It was almost painful.

“Give me another.” Aemond grunted, pressing his fingers against you again harder, watching as you tried to shift your hips and escape his circling digits.

But it was no use, and Aemond ripped yet another peak from you with precision, your head lulling to the side tiredly as your body was thrust up the bed with his hips. You laid limply beneath him as he continued to fuck you, lip pulled into your mouth by your teeth as you whimpered.

“Fuck.” He gritted out through his teeth, hand releasing your clit out of mercy as he gripped your hips tightly in both hands, fucking into you harder and faster than before, beating the air from your lungs with each thrust.

“Gonna fill up this little pussy.” He moaned, watching as your brows pulled together, walls fluttering around his length.

“You want me to fill this pretty pussy with my cum? Want me to fill you up?”

You nodded your head, tear leaking from the corner of your eye as he continued to rut into you rapidly, hands leaving your hips to wrap around your throat, squeezing the sides to prevent the blood flow to your head whilst allowing for air, amplifying your pleasure and making you float even further.

“Gonna cum in your cunt.” He moaned, using the grip on your neck to pull your weight down onto his cock, spearing you open with each thrust.

It was too much.

It was-

Oh Gods-

You were-

Your brain went blank as ecstasy shot through it, scrambling any thought that you had. You heard his cry as he came deep within you, his warmth filling you up, but there was a second wetness that you noticed, that soaked the sheets below you.

It took a while to come back down to yourself, held in Aemond’s arms as he brushed gentle hands over you, holding you to him. You felt warm, safe, and completely and utterly exhausted. You shifted to look up at him, watching as his eye opened to look down at you.

“Back on earth?” He asked softly, watching as you weakly smiled at him, nuzzling into his bare chest. His chuckle vibrated against your cheek.

“Come on, we got to get you cleaned up.”

You buried your head deeper into his chest, “Don’wanna.”

Lips pressed at the top of your head, “Come on. I need to change the sheets.”

This caught your attention.

Had you gotten your period?

Were you sweatier than you had thought?

You lifted your head to look at him, to which he gave you a smug little smile.

“You made quite the mess.”

You frowned, embarrassment creeping into your chest.

“Nothing bad.” He reassured you, kissing your forehead, “You ever squirted before?”

Squirted?

“As much as I love watching your mind turn and work, I’m lying in your wet patch.” He chuckled, shifting to lift you out of the bed.

Low and behold, there it was.

A large wet patch below Aemond that spread out against your sheets, proof of your pleasure and the peaks that Aemond took you too. And despite having no shame, and being roughly and thoroughly fucked not too long ago, heat still flooded your cheeks at the sight.

After lazing in bed for only an allowed moment more, Aemond helped you to the shower, your legs weak like jelly as he washed you and brushed your hair, taking off your makeup with gentle steady hands that made your heart flutter in your chest.

Ever the gentleman, he popped you on the couch as he changed your sheets, remaking your bed before he put on the load of washing. It was entirely domestic, and watching him as he moved, as he doted. on you, as he fluttered around your space which had irrevocably also became his, it only seemed to make the little part of him that had burrowed into your chest go deeper.

You ordered in that evening, getting pizza in a strange reminder of what it had been like when he first moved in. The same pizza order, the same pizza place, the same two spots on the couch as you ate.

The two of you had come a long way since then. A very long way, and in many ways, coming to a place that you would not have thought possible or even to have thought to cross your mind.

You watched his favourite movie in comfortable silence after eating your dinner, before suddenly you remembered something. You jumped up from your spot, hissing slightly at the soreness between your thighs as you ran to retrieve two spoons from the drawer, then opening the freezer door to dig around inside.

Ah.

There it was.

The forgotten tub of ice cream you had carelessly thrown inside when a certain person was in your home.

You held it triumphantly as you walked back to the couch, holding it as you would a prized jewel on show for him. Aemond chuckled at your antics as you pulled the lid clean off, offering him a spoon.

“The first dip, My Lord.” You joked, bowing your head to him.

Aemond huffed a laugh, the pressure of him digging into the tub with his spoon pushed into your wrist.

“Ñuha Riña.”

The accent sent a pulse straight to your core.

Down girl.

You dipped your spoon in after him, lifting it to your lips, “What does that mean?”

“My Lady." Aemond hummed, returning his attention back to the tv.

You savoured the ice cream, the tub becoming half full in no time as you slowly but surely demolished it together. It felt good to be at his side, to know where you both stood. To know what you both wanted, and for it to not be a secret anymore.

But you still couldn't get your mind to stop thinking about the way his tongue had rolled when speaking High Valyrian.

“Aemond?” You turned your head to look at his profile, watching as his tongue darted out to lick at his spoon.

“Hm?”

“Will you teach me?”

His brows furrowed, “Teach you what?”

“High Valyrian.” You asked him shyly, suddenly feeling like perhaps you shouldn’t have asked him that at all. Maybe he wouldn't want to teach you that. Maybe it was a family thing only.

Was that weird of you to ask?

Would it be a reminder of the tension back at home?

A reminder of his father?

Your swirling thoughts of doubt were cut short as a soft smile spread across his shape cheeks.

“Hen rhinka.” Of course.

“What does that mean?”

“You’ll have to find out, won’t you, ñuha jorrāelagon.”

My love.

That night you slept in each others embrace, fresh and warm sheets on the bed, surrounded by his scent. It was no wonder that you drifted off to sleep so easily after the romp you had had earlier, not to mention how tumultuous the days before had been.

Yet when you woke the next morning, you felt refreshed, ready for a new start.

A new day.

A new beginning.

With him.

Aemond wasn’t in bed with you, but rather than feeling any sort of panic or anxiety about his absence, you crawled out of bed and went to where you knew he would be.

Standing tall, leant against the bench, Aemond sleepily sipped from his coffee in the kitchen as he blew the smoke from his cigarette through the open window. He was clad in only black shorts, his silver hair messy and tangled, and the press of his pillow embedded in his cheek.

Hearing your approach, he turned to you and smiled.

Your stomach did flips.

“Morning.”

The familiar sound of porcelain on the bench scraped in your ear.

There, at the base of his fingers, was your steaming mug of tea.

You took it gratefully from him with a smile before sidling up to his side, leaning your head against his chest as he wrapped one arm around your shoulders pulling you closer.

“What do you want to do today?” You looked up at him, watching as he smiled down at you.

“Anything you want.”

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Taglist:

@mrstargayen09 @iamavailablesstuff @malfoytargaryen @hogwarts1207 @diannnnsss @seni039 @qyburnsghost @anehkael @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @watercolorskyy @skikikikiikhhjuuh @toodlesxcuddles @kaelatargaryen @aemonds-fire @anitazut @melsunshine @persephonerinyes @wintrr13@arcielee @coffedraven @happinessinthebeing @zairishmya @hanula18 @lovejustlovelythings-blog @harryssunflxwer @spinachtz @bellaisasleep @aemshaircare @heavenly1927 @yentroucnagol @snh96 @thedamewithabook @hanula18 @sweethoneyblossom1 @siriusblackrunmeover17 @yentroucnagol @urmomsgirlfriend1 @carriellie @ipostwhtifeel@queenofshinigamis @toodlesxcuddles @the-common-cowgirl@ladymarg0t @deadgirlwalkingtaylorsversion @diiickbrainn @rawrxbexjealous @virtualsweetsqueen @adeliciouslysaltybitch @tsujifreya @boofy1998 @docmartinis @rabbit-reveries @bel-bottoms @padfooteyes @cryingforlife

Bold is who I cannot tag

575 notes · View notes

neoarchipelago · 1 year

Note

Here to humbly ask for one serving of a price+sex pollen please 😔 saw someone bring it up under the konig one and they are so true and real for the price ghost konig Holy trinity of daddy issues

Ahhh yes... Daddiest of daddies... Just ask and you shall receive...

Price is such a calm man. Ruled by logic and love for his adopted children. But you... You could never be his child. Cuz the things he wants to do to you... Fuck, the devil itself blushes.

The pollen... Was unexpected. He tried to remain calm. He tried to breath through the waves of adrenaline washing over him. He still couldn't believe you were there straddling his lap, rosy cheeks.

A calm man. He'd be so soft, even through the rush and the mind wrecking need. He'd love absolutely every part of you. And you can see just how hard this man is trying to hold back on you.

So you push him. And he unleashes.

Every thrust hits the right spot. Praises fall from his lips like the morning rain, and they make you feel so hot. Your heart feels like it'll burst from it.

"Such a good girl... You're taking me so well... Fuck... You sound so good, moan for me again..."

Deep, steady... His cock just pumps in and out of you in a calculated move. His eyes are fixated on you, pupils dilated. His chest raising with each breath, with each thrust.

He gets lost in you. Lost in your eyes, in your heat. The first time he can feel himself reach the edge, your orgasm rolling through you he asks. He needs to hear it.

"Baby, gonna cum... Do you want me to... Should I feel you up my sweet baby?..."

A yes. A nod. A beg. And he'd spill so deep in you, staying there. It wouldn't help much. Cuz he's already up for another round.

Even with his age, and through the cigars, the man has stamina.

He'd be more controlled than the others, so he'd try to give you a little moment to rest. He'd be unable to keep his hands off of you though... Your neck kissed, lips almost bruised, hands caressing you, cock in between your thighs from behind to try to relieve himself a bit. So warm... So perfect for him.

And he fucks you again, looking at you like your the sweetest strawberry he'd ever get the luck to taste.

If by any chance... A 'daddy' would slip past your lips...

He'd freeze. The electric shock that ran through him straight to his cock was unbearable. Shit he almost came on the spot. You might think you fucked up but no... He's about to fuck you up real good though. He'll grab your hips, positioning you just right to hit that spot. And he'll pound you. His eyes wouldn't leave yours.

"I'm your daddy? You want me to be your daddy, baby? Go on... Say it again... Moan for daddy..."

He'd drop his dog tags around your neck, tangling his fingers with them. He'd fuck you from behind, laying down on the bed, because shit... You just feel so good and he can't handle it anymore. If this was heaven he was sure to die worshiping you on his knees.

You'd be close to tapping out from exhaustion, and he'd wrap his arms tightly around you, praising you, comforting you.

"it's ok, let go my darling... I'm right here, let daddy take care you... Relax..."

He'd stop if you passed out. He wouldn't pull out though. He'd stay burried deep in you, almost torturing himself by his own cock warming. You'd bat your lashes, awaking slowly, feeling so full, body melting away. He'd kiss your cheeks, hand softly roaming you until you wiggle your hips.

He wouldn't hesitate. Fuck he'd have you all night. He'll fill you up again and again, loosing himself in you. He was supposed to be logic, he was a captain. But you'd manage to simply own him.

And he'd make sure he owned you.

#fanfics #fanfiction #fanfic #captain price #cod mw2 #john price #cod price #price cod #price x reader #john price headcanons #john price imagine

940 notes · View notes

sukunasdirtylaugh · 6 months

Text

tags: ghost!gojo x f!reader, mentions of death, manga spoilers, mentions of character death(s), mentions of sick parents, reader being nurturing, satoru being intruiged by reader, reader talking to herself even though she knows she's being listened to, slight fluff at the end, gojo feeling some type of way word count: 2.2k a/n: someone help me name this series. this is the quickest time I've written a pt. 2 after a part 1. also, shout out to mitski's my love mine all mine for the extra kick to finish the end. I was supposed to sleep 2 hrs ago, so here's the unedited chapter. here is part 1. some inspiration to the gojo clan home: photo 1,

5 months into your arrival as his nephew's tutor, satoru thinks you've finally accepted his presence, yet he never plans to outwardly reach out to you because what if you told his family in the estate?

he should feel relieved over this, but bringing his clan in this issue would surely bring more problems than he'd like to admit. if he were 'dead' now, imagine what his clan would do once he really died?

shortly before finishing his fight with kenjaku, satoru was blindly cursed. "I may not be able to bring the strongest with me, but I will curse you, satoru gojo," the words still echo in the back of his head.

"your spirit will remain the same, your being remains, but you will be here no more, in the presence for others to see. you shall remain invisible, a ghost to all, and you'll be lucky to be noticed by anyone who does not already know your inherit value as a sorcerer. known by all, but never remembered."

satoru thinks back to that fateful day, ending the life of a stranger inside the body of his best friend, the epitome of his youth, hopes, and aspirations. satoru remembers the look on his student's faces, blank disappointment. either at him or themselves, but he knows it's geared towards him. shoko's knuckles barely turn white as her lips press into a tight line, while yuuji chokes on air as he's on his knees, other students at his side, attempting to console him while megumi lays unconscious several feet away. he turns out okay in the end, with a minor concussion and a few injuries he'd like to thank shoko for fixing up, the boy lives.

and on that day, gojo satoru died from the face of the earth.

he doesn't know how or why he ended up in his estate. a large, but quaint home with endless scenery and a garden right out of a movie. the house still holds traditional japanese elements, but the peony shrubs his mother had planted stick out like a sore thumb.

just like her.

young, beautiful, and once full of life. hopeful to marry into a family that would one day accept her albeit she was a foreigner, marrying a man whom she thought was serious and sophisticated enough to handle marriage.

but oh how foolish we are to assume the best in others when it comes to matters of the heart.

when he was alive, satoru would regularly check in with the old nanny, ensuring that the shrubs were trimmed and water just right. he knew just how much those flowers meant to his mother. a pretty housewife who no matter what she did was never enough to impress the clan.

until satoru was born. her pride and joy, holding no mind to the comments of his white hair and how he held ancestral resemblance to an ancient sorcerer from within the clan. all his mother knew was that she was head over heels in love with the peaceful human she was able to carry for nine months. no concern for the future, only hope that his son would see and be treated with the humanness he deserved to have. but oh how fate twists. one thing leads to another and his mother now requires a blanket everywhere she goes. she still hangs out in the gardens, spending what time she can with her son who is now 5, nearly 6. and then she's bed bound, finding solace in the brush stokes against the canvas and the warmth of her son.

sometimes, satoru carries the bitter reminder yet anger towards his father. he never saw them happy, only formal and curt, almost as if being together was a chore for him, and his mother's smile would falter when he would avoid a hug from her. the smell of cheap vanilla perfume stained his coat, hanging by his arm, and satoru's mother would simply look towards the ground. almost in shame.

he never loved his mother, satoru then realized as an adult. not even bring her up in the lonely nights, reminisce her life, what they shared, it was as if she was a long-forgotten chapter in his life.

you arrive in august, cheerful and kind. he thinks you won't last long because his family demands unreasonably long hours and surely your boyfriend back home would not approve, but he was surprised, 3 months in your stay that you continued to tutor his nephew. you seemed much more genuine than any other temporary nanny he had when he was a kid, satoru thinks, but then again he and hotaru are completely different in terms of cursed energy.

when november is nearing it's end, you decide to stay a few extra minutes in the garden. hotaru has now joined his family for dinner, and he watches the estate nanny walk towards you and hand you a mug. he can't quite hear what you're both saying since the leaves rustle a little too loudly for his liking, but he notices the 'oh' you make is serious, followed by a nervous chuckle after the nanny had said something.

satoru wonders what you must have said as the nanny suddenly rises from the garden stone bench, looking at his direction as he leans against a tree. she tells you something before departing, and you sigh moments later.

"I can feel you're around, you've been watching us for some time, and I know it." you speak almost so knowingly that it makes satoru swallow the lump at the back of his throat, but the feeling quickly dissipates as soon as the white housecat, mochi, startles you.

you leave shortly after.

12 days of your normal routine pass when satoru notices something is wrong. hotaru doesn't eat as much and at night, he calls for you. "you'll spoil him if you keep letting him be around that commoner," a distant aunt of satoru, one who he wasn't particularly fond of sneers at the nanny, "now he's calling her before bedtime,"

"he's 5," the nanny says, almost defensively. if anyone were to speak to his aunt like that then the staff would have surely been fired, but after working in the estate for nearly 30 years, satoru's father would have prohibited the dismissal of a staff member with this much seniority over something like this. "his mother is ill, and the boy's tutor has been his only maternal rock at this point. he doesn't open up to anyone but her, so we would be doing the nephew of gojo satoru a disservice by treating his nephew the way you treat him." satoru watched at how furiously the woman's brows furrowed then softened, speechless and at a loss for words before she gives up and leaves.

within an hour, you are quick to make it to the estate with a much more informal set of clothes. a pair of joggers and loungewear ideal for the nearing winter. it is past 10 when you hold the boy in his arms, talk to him about his problems, make a pinky promise (not just any promise) with him, and read him a bedtime story you had so thoughtfully decided to bring in your bag.

within minutes, the boy instantly falls asleep tucked to your side and the look you hold in your face makes satoru stare in admiration as he sits from one of the rocking chairs across the room. gently placing the book down, you kiss hotaru's forehead. "I'll see you on thursday," you promise the sleeping child before heading outside where hatoru's nanny greets you. she bows her head momentarily.

"we cannot thank you enough for your work, miss." she says, hands formally clasped together at her front. "we have made sleeping arrangements for you to stay the night. we insist, as a commute back home at this hour is late," she adds, "we have set up nightwear and can even prepare dinner for you miss."

"thank you," you say simply, politely, "I... I really don't mean to intrude nor cause any-"

"oh you could never," the woman says, "please, allow us to be your host for the night. and do not worry about waking up at an hour in fear of inconveniencing us. we have multiple guest bedrooms and would be honored to let you stay."

satoru notices the expression in your face soften as he knows that you can't possibly say no know, so you accept. choosing to spend the night. the staff set you up in a nice, private room with your own exit to the gardens. and the estate chef sends you his best soup and side dishes to fill your stomach on this cold night.

"you clearly don't have to worry about anything in here," you speak lowly but loudly enough for satoru to hear. you sit and lean against your slide shift door, facing the garden as satoru sits on the wooden surface of the 'sidewalk' (referenced in photo one). and he nearly wants to laugh at your comment, swaying his feet that he almost kicks some of the pebbled stones.

"but... hotaru still worries," you definitely have his attention now as you sigh softly, troubled, not knowing the spirit of hotaru's uncle listens to you.

"sometimes... I don't know what to do. sometimes... I feel like I can cross a boundary, but I'm an employee at the end of the day. how can I act as his therapist without... being this motherly to him?"

there was clearly a problem that satoru didn't know the answer to, but he sympathized with you trying to take on as many roles as you possibly could. he knew how complicated his family clan was. how you would always and forever walk on eggshells around them and no matter what you accomplished, it was never enough.

"I try, I really do..." your murmur to yourself, and a long silence passes as you sit in the quietness of the room. "I..." you chuckled, "I'm sorry, I can't believe I'm doing this- talking to myself, hoping something or some spirit is listening when in reality I'm just speaking to myself like a complete fool, or a japanese spirit is here right now truly mind boggled as a girl speaks in english," you stand to your feet and chuckle, heading to your bed. as satoru hears yourself bickering, the corner if his lip tugs ever so slightly upwards.

he wants to say something. thinks about what the possibility of you talking with him would be like. and as you're making your way to the bed, you still go off on a tangent.

"...no, I bet they do understand me." you argue with yourself, lecturing as if you had your own personal podcast, "if feelings are universal, so are energies and vibrations... meaning one of two things." now you're walking back and forth, concentrated on your own footsteps. satoru wants to chuckle, scare you off even, but this entertainment was the best thing he's had since he could remember. so he decided to wait this one out.

"1- the spirits must think I'm an idiot, I mean I already look like one here, but... 2, they can sense my energy." satoru feels his figurative heart drop to his stomach when you instantly look in his direction, did you know he was here all along? he thinks for a split moment, your eyes sharp with knowing.

you shudder, as your hairs stand on the sides of your arms. not unpleasantly, but enough to know some energy besides your own was here. after a short consideration, you speak.

"move a pebble if you're here," your eyes don't leave his direction, and satoru sits motionless, almost afraid you could see the real him, break all notions of metaphysical theories and curses, and then, you walk towards him; sitting criss cross applesauce.

"I know you're here," softly, you whisper, and satoru can see how you're cold, hugging your frame as your jaw slightly tenses. "I just don't know if you choose to ignore my attempts because you want to or because you genuinely can't communicate," your energy warms him, he doesn't know how else to describe it as you lean closer and closer. he thinks that if he were still alive, then you'd probably make fun of his faltered composure.

I don't know how, he wants to say, but deep down, if he wanted to try he could. he just didn't have the guts to do it.

a long minute passes, you wait patiently before you sigh, but not in defeat. "but either way, I'll be here. and your nephew will be okay. I don't know if that's the reason why you're here, but..." you trail, eyes fixated on the garden as your brows furrow and unfurrow, "...he's going to be okay." shortly after, you stand up, closing the conversation, and satoru senses he shouldn't be here anymore as you make your way to the bed. taking his cue, he leaves with a fuzzy feeling in his chest, remembering your words that oddly felt like a promise. one he hasn't been made to in forever.

he could learn to trust you.

#gojo #satoru #guilty pleasure #jjk #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jujustu kaisen #gojo headcanons #jujutsu kaisen gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo x female reader #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo sensei #satoru gojo #gojo x you

89 notes · View notes

baby-yongbok · 9 months

Text

A Scream to the Gods

Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Non idol, Medieval

✨Masterlist✨

Warnings: Cheating, Swearing, Death, Description of blood, Major character death (reader), (Sorry if I missed any tags)

Notes: Hyunjin's POV + I enjoyed writing this but I'm anxious to share it. It's pretty angsty but I enjoy writing in this style. I hope that you enjoy the story!

Word Count: 2538

Summary: Despite you doing your best to make your realm proud Hyunjin couldn't be more opposed to the idea of marrying you. So much so that he's done a great deal of things behind your back to ease the pain. What will happen when everything comes to light and it becomes way too much to handle?

Hyunjin's POV

She was feared, envied even. Every woman she walked past wanted to be her and all of the men wanted a woman of her equal on his arm but no one could ever compare. She was a fair height and her skin was golden like a pool of honey, her mouth was presumably the most craved thing in the kingdom after her body. I’ve heard another man say that she has “The body of a true woman.” One would think that I am happy, ecstatic even for her to be my bride but in reality I’m far from it.

“Hyunjin, we’ll be late if we wait any longer, can't we leave now?” As much as I’d love to remain in my chambers and hide from my mother it is no use, either I go to her or she comes to me.

“Very well, I suppose I’ve waited long enough.” Turning to Lady Y/n I forced a smile and offered her my hand. “Shall we?”

Confidently, she takes my hand and I lead her to my chamber doors. The guards visibly perk up as I exit and close the doors behind me. “Brogan, call for my sister. I'll be needing assistance dealing with my mother” The guard rushes off in the other direction as Lady Y/n and I make our way across the palace to my mother's quarters.

“Would it really be so horrible?” With furrowed brows I look over to Lady Y/n, she halts her movement on the garden bridge and stands in front of me. “Marrying me, is it really that frightening to you?”

A smirk plays upon my lips as I look around to make sure that we are alone, I look her directly in the eyes “Yes, it would be, I’d rather fall into a war with the North than marry the likes of you.” My shoulder bumps into hers as I make my way past her. "Come, let's not waste anymore time."

The remainder of the walk to my mother's quarters felt as if it lasted a thousand lunar cycles. Lady Y/n dragged herself behind me just close enough to look as if we were actually together.

"My Lord." My mother's personal guards greeted me as I approached her chamber doors. Opening the tall doors I enter, neglecting to wait for Lady Y/n.

I halt in my tracks and my heartbeat starts to quicken as I take in the scene before me. My mother, The general and his wife and the high priest of the realm all sat before me in a quiet huddle around my mother's common room table.

"Look who's decided to join us." My mother's cold tone gave way to the reason that such a scene is being displayed before me. Finally, Lady Y/n makes her way Into the room and bows to my mother.

"What the hell is this?" Scoffing my mother sets her tea cup onto the table before her. Grabbing the hand of the general's wife she lifts her to her feet.

"Are you familiar with this woman?" My first thought is that this must be a trap, another one of my mother's creative ploys to get me to marry Lady Y/n.

"What kind of question is that mother? Of course I am familiar with the general's wife." It took everything out of me not to call her by her birth given name, Reyna, my - I mean the general's wife.

"Do you take me as a fool, son?" Exasperated, my mother motions for the general to stand. "Jisung, inform my son of what you've been told."

"Yes, My Queen." Standing to his feet, Han Jisung, the grand general of this realm and a dear friend of mine, looked at me with eyes I did not recognize. With a sigh he followed my mother's orders. "It has been brought to my attention by one of my men that you've been seeing my wife."

Fuck

"Jisung, don't be ridiculous. Do you believe your men over me?"

"My men have a loyalty to me that you don't seem to have, My Lord."

From the corner of my eye I notice Lady Y/n tense, it is at this point that I think the both of us realize the severity of this situation.

"I foresaw that you would try to deny the truth so I took it upon myself to get the answer out of your mistress." Coming from around the table my mother trails Reyna behind her. "I told her that she can either admit to seeing the King and be sent away to the Central Realm or she can keep your dirty secret and be placed on trial for manipulating and seducing the King."

No no no no no, she's lying, my mother lies all the time to get her way this can't be any different, but when my eyes meet Reyna's it is clear to me that my mother is not bluffing. Tears well up in her honey glazed eyes causing anger to boil in my veins.

"Do not punish Reyna for my mistakes, I will stop seeing her." The pain I felt while speaking these words is a feeling I wish to never experience again. At this point every pair of eyes in the chamber are on me, waiting for me to fix what I've done in some way.

"There you go playing me for a fool again, I don't believe you anyway. You're too passionate to stay away from this woman especially while she's with your child."

"What?"

"I'm sorry." Reyna's whispered words were all I needed to hear to break me down just enough for me to nearly give up but by the grace of the Gods I remembered something, something that may turn this into a victory.

“You can not send your Queen away to the Central Kingdom.” Once again all eyes were on me as I revealed my deepest dearest secret. I’ve held these words inside my chest for far too long. “Unhand your Queen, at once.” The maniacal laugh that ripped through my mother could silence any realm within earshot.

“How can she be your wife when she’s married to me?” Jisung’s face may have been just as painful for me to take in as Reyna’s terrified one. He is a good man and I’ve gone behind his back and slept with his wife.

“Your marriage was never officiated by the priest. Therefore Reyna is technically an unmarried woman, well, she was an unmarried woman.” The hard swallow that followed once Jisung realized Reyna was no longer his wife was clearly an attempt at keeping his temper in check.

“You married this girl!?” My mothers grip on Reyna’s wrist visibly tightened

"She has every right to the throne as I do. With that being said I suggest that you unhand your queen before I smite you. You've already tested my patience." My mother throws Reyna's arm away from her in disgust. Reyna holds her wrist to her chest and begins to sob.

"My queen, if you don't mind I need a moment. " With a bow Jisung makes his way to the chamber doors. Stopping before the guards at the entrance, he seems to be in deep thought. "Reyna, if you come with me now I will forget this ever happened. We can move to the Southern realm and live the life that we've always wanted. If you stay I know you've chosen your corrupt king over me. "

With every word that Jisung spoke I wished that he was struck down by lightning. He's trying to take my bride away from me? Without another word he moved outside of the chambers and Reyna watched him leave with pain glazed eyes. My gaze stayed on her until her eyes flickered to mine. The Queen mother watched in silence almost as if she were taking part in a mental prayer.

"My Lord, I love you more than the Gods love this land. You've given me one of the most wonderful gifts that life could ever give and I can never fully repay you for all that you've done. " The tear that fell from Reyna's right eye gave way to my darling's response.

"No, you're not leaving. You're with my child."

"And he will know who his father is. My Lord, I am not worthy of a life with you. I am not fit to be Queen."

"No, you can't leave, I won't let you." Reyna makes her way towards me, stopping right before me.

"Saranghaeyo" I couldn't help the tears that sprung to my eyes.

Without another word she hurried out of my mother's chambers avoiding all eye contact. "Reyna." I called for her hoping she'd return but it was no use. She chose the safest option, she knows that my mother will have her killed if she stays and for that reason alone I will make sure that my mother feels the exact fear that Reyna feels right now. Directing my gaze to the queen mother I warn her.

"Watch your step, you never know which one will have a trap door underneath it." With a smile my mother sits at her common room table and sips her tea.

"I think it's fair to say that we can annul the union you had with your mistress and marry you and Lady Y/n." I glance over to find that Lady Y/n is gone. Not that I care.

"I will not marry that woman, I have no feelings for her. If you're willing to force your son into a loveless marriage you have no business calling yourself a mother. "

"You're right. I'm not a mother, I'm a queen protecting her kingdom from my son who loves to fall in love with the help. Now go find Lady Y/n and apologize for your ignominious behavior." Charging towards my mother I slam my hands onto her common room table shaking her tea cup and startling the priest.

"I will make every day of Lady Y/n's life a living hell and I will be sure to remind her that you are to blame for her eternal suffering." Before my mother could rebuttal a guard came rushing into her quarters.

"Pardon me, my queen. There's an emergency in the garden. Lady Y/n has threatened to take her life." Jumping up from her seat my mother begins to panic.

"Is she armed?"

"Yes, my queen"

"Unarm her and bring her to me" Scoffing, I straighten my garments before turning my back to my mother.

"No, allow me to support my bride. Stay put, you've done enough

"Lady Y/n" she halted all movement at the sound of my voice. Her face was scrunched into one of a perplexed woman as she circled the rose bushes. I had them planted for her earlier this year, she often came here to think or practice archery. I remember the day that I presented the bushes to her, she was so happy, practically glowing. The look of confusion on her face almost makes me miss that happiness… that glow.

"Stay away from me."

"My darling, please come inside. Let me talk to you about this." She turned to me with a look of betrayal stronger than I've ever seen before.

"Talk about what? Your affairs with a married woman? You're hatred for me? I've never acted in an ill manner towards you my lord, yet you treat me as if I'm a pauper begging for your gold. I did not want to come and marry you, I had a love of my own in the Central Kingdom but I left him to be here and serve my born duty. You seem to forget that, you're not my first choice either."

"Darling -"

"Don't call me that" she points her dagger towards me as I take a step towards her."

"Y/n, please. I'll speak to my mother and convince her to have you honorably sent back to the Central kingdom. We've made an alliance with your father, all will be well." Tears fall from her eyes as she listens to my proposition. I slowly take a step towards her as she's distracted.

"Why would I want to be sent back to the Central Realm? To be executed for loving a merchant? That's why my father sent me here. He didn't give a fuck about your alliance, Hyunjin. He wanted a reason to get rid of his sinned seed. I've heard that man pray to the Gods that my love was a mistake. I heard Felix scream to the Gods as my father's court hung him for loving me. Why on earth would I go back to the Central Realm? To die? I'd rather die by my own hand."

Turning her dagger to her chest she holds it firmly with her right hand. Stopping dead in my tracks I begin to panic. Lady Y/n is no fool, if I take another step she'll drive that dagger right through her heart.

"Y/n… my queen… please." Swallowing hard, I try to slowly move towards her. "I've been evil to you. I've shown you the hatred that I did not have the heart to show my mother. I belittled you and I am eternally regretful of my actions. It is only now that I'm being forced to face my mistakes that I realize that you have been the only person to genuinely care about me and my well-being. You came here to honor your late lover's death, not your father's wishes. Let me help you, we'll get married and change this kingdom for the better. We'll make certain that no one will ever have to endure what you have. Especially our daughter, we can turn this all around."

With a weak grin Y/n tightens her grip on the dagger. "My Lord, you can't fool me. You do not care for me and I will not force you to. Besides, I died the moment that my love was taken from me." Y/n's face went blank as she whispered to herself “I’m coming back to you sunshine.”

"Guards!" I ran towards Y/n hoping to save her. Hoping to kiss her like I meant it for once. I wanted to drop to my knees and apologize for the way I've mistreated her. I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her into me. The gasps that fell from her mouth gave me the answer that I dreaded before I even looked. "Get me a healer, now!"

Dropping to my knees with her body in my arms I laid her down onto the grass. "Lady Y/n. Darling, please." I held her head up and caressed her flushed cheek. "No, no, no, no you can't leave me too. Come on, wake up."

Blood soaked into the garden soil as my bride bled out. Her eyes fluttered shut peacefully and a mere grin was left on her face. Shaking her body softly I called out to her, praying to the gods that she'd wake up. Praying that the healers could bring my love back. In a whisper I said the words that I didn't have the courage to mutter earlier.

"It wouldn't be horrible at all… to marry you."

147 notes · View notes

acerathia · 11 months

Text

Summary:

While spending the summer at your grandparent's place, an accident leads to a fateful encounter with Izuku. Yet you reject this first meeting, seeking to craft a proper first impression.

Pairing:

Midoriya Izuku / Reader

Wordcount: 11.3k

Read it on AO3

Tags/CW:

Love at first sight, slightly idiots in love (if you squint), Aged-up characters, vague description of a panic attack, slight miscommunication (I hate it as much as you do), Reader is gn but there is 'girl' as a term of endearment,

Note:

This work is part of the 'Meet Fruit Collab' by willow's house! Go check the other works!!

The sun caresses your cheeks and makes you close your eyes, allowing the warmth to seep into your bones. There is only a slight breeze, cooling your skin with each whisper. The weather seemingly fits your current tranquility.

It’s summer. And similar to every summer you had experienced before, you’re visiting your grandparents at their small cottage in the south of the country. The warmth practically radiating from the edges of the village. You love it here, despite the long trip, carrying you over borders and through mountains. But in the end, it’s always worth it, the weather and the comfort of the people forming the valley of your dreams. No wonder you had planned on staying for the duration of the summer, nothing better than to spend your vacation with your family and their well-loved apple trees.

You had arrived a couple of days ago, the train finally coming to a halt after hours of driving through the darkness of the tunnel, emerging into another world, wildly different from the other side of the mountain range. And as much as you love riding the train for long distances, it had exhausted you quite a bit, you almost had no choice but to rest for a couple of days. These last days had consisted of you catching up with your grandparents, and of course, enjoying the apple pie of your dear grandpa.

That is until they had kicked you out of the door with some silly task. Well, getting kicked out is a strong word, rather they had sent you on an errand because according to your grandma, you had gotten ‘the zoomies’, whatever that means.

So there you are, in the middle of a meadow, trying to walk towards the apple trees of your family without stomping on the flowers. And as much as you hate to admit it, you aren’t successful with your current endeavor, and you hope to at least save the apples from their dooming demise. That’s why you had to pick them directly from the trees, these delicious, fresh apples should not, under any circumstance, fall onto the ground and rot away, turning into sad mush. You shall not allow them to suffer such fate!

But even if you are to pick every single apple from the trees, you wonder where your grandparents store all these apples, before you remember the morning market. The people around here open their stalls in the morning to sell their homemade products and to converse with each other, taking that chance to simply catch up with each other without any reason to do so. And of course, your grandparents go there, they have many friends in the village and how else are they supposed to get their gossip from? And soon you are going to be part of that gossip because while you had missed the market due to your inability to wake up early in the morning, they definitely are going to drag you along with them as soon as possible.

With a sigh, signifying your surrender to your upcoming fate, you arrive at the base of the first tree. You are only supposed to fill the basket you are carrying, so there is no need for you to visit more than one tree today. You set the basket between the roots of the tree to put your hands on your hips. With a scrutinizing gaze, you inspect the stem and its bark, judging how well you would be able to climb it. And it seems like a challenge for your climbing skills, but it definitely isn’t something you can’t handle.

Rolling your imaginary sleeves up to gather some strength, you begin feeling the bark with both your palms and fingertips, looking for grooves and furrows to hold onto. Once you discover some proper places to hold onto, you manage to get a good grasp around the trunk, hauling yourself with one push and jump. Your feet push the ground away before they step onto the bark. Holding your grasp for a moment, your hand grabs the next branch to finally pull your whole body upwards, your body sprawling across the branch. With a swing you manage to get your legs up, getting yourself into a sitting position on the thicker branch. And despite its thickness, you remain close to the trunk as a safety measure.

With your body secure and safe, you start grabbing the apples, picking the ones closest to you to let them fall to the ground. You try your best to soften the fall by stretching your body towards the ground, or by trying to get them into your basket in one shot. That way you clear the surrounding space, before you begin to move upwards, standing on the branch to reach higher. Methodically you move from branch to branch, reaching as far as you possibly could without endangering yourself.

Reaching higher and higher, you continue to let the apples drop, until you hear a small shout of surprise. You gasp silently and peer down to look for the source of that sound, staying hidden behind the leaves and branches.

Down below standing at the base of the tree is a boy your age, his hand rubbing against the top of his head with a slight wince. You bite your bottom lip to swallow a curse, lest he sees you between the branches of the tree. Because it seems like you were the cause of his pain, as you accidentally let an apple fall on top of his head. And you probably should get down and apologize, maybe gift him some apples to soothe the pain. But before you decide on your next move, he looks up and you freeze. You can’t do anything but stare at his beautiful face; and you think, you must have fallen and broken your neck because you have never seen such mesmerizing features before. His green eyes make you step into a deep, refreshing forest, full of secrets you can discover if you step closer; yet welcoming and beautiful, soothing your mind with ease. Strands of hair framed those gleaming eyes, soft; and you wondered how it would feel to drive your fingers through them while counting the small galaxy of freckles emphasizing his features. You wonder how many little stars he owns.

There is no way you can simply jump down and meet him like that, not after that accident with the apple. That would be a bad first impression and you have no idea how you currently look, the leaves probably sitting on top of your head. The peak of bad impressions. ‘Hey, I hit you with an apple, but you’re cute, so forget about it.’ You can’t just do that! For some reason you need that first impression to be good, no, perfect. So you clasp your free hand against your mouth and hold still, trying to make the least amount of noise possible. He should not catch you under any circumstance, especially after you refuse to go down after hitting him. That only would worsen his possible first impression of you.

‘Please leave, please leave,’ you try to persuade him with your telepathic skills. You hope you have these skills, or else he might not leave soon. But lucky you, your persuasion skills seem to work, as he picks an apple off the ground to roll it between his palms, scarred palms. And you wonder how that rough skin would feel against your own pair of hands before you notice him turning and finally leaving.

You almost cheer, thanking your merciful luck, hoping it doesn’t deplete with that simple graciousness. Still, you don’t risk anything and wait for some time, making sure nobody is truly left, before you jump down, starting to pick the apples off the ground in a hurry, collecting the fruits in your basket.

With a last glance in every possible direction, you make your way back to the cottage, arms and doubts heavy. And as much as you want to enjoy the beautiful sun on your skin, your gaze has locked itself onto the grassy ground, watching the blades dance with the silent brise. You just can’t help but think that you might have burst your only chance with that boy, just because of your cowardice. What if you never saw him again? Then what? Are you just going to lament over that non-existent loss, maybe cry every time you spot some green apples, because he reminds you of these green Pound Sweet apples? Probably. But right now all you want to do is to kick yourself back in time, maybe take another way of action. But no, your head had been empty and your thoughts didn’t carry any semblance of common sense. You never make the right decisions in the nick of time, and you always end up regretting it, like right now. You lost him, forever!

Maybe you are acting a tad dramatic, but you think you deserve a little drama, as a treat to distract yourself from your lost chance to meet the embodiment of the perfect person.

Your grandma immediately notices your little pout upon your entrance, and just doesn’t allow you to enter the cottage. She had taken the basket out of your hands before pulling you into her little vegetable garden in the back. Apparently, she needs help with getting rid of the weed. And even if you know she doesn’t need help and that she holds too much strength in her frame, you oblige to her pushing you into this task. You doubt you would be able to get rid of a single weed, and you spend the rest of the day in a brawl, fighting those scratching plants with all your might and still losing, too many times to count. And maybe that is the plan of your grandma, to distract you from whatever is bothering you and to tire you out like a little child throwing a tantrum. You don’t care though, that is her way of caring for you after all.

***

The next morning doesn’t start like you wanted it to. You are deep in your dreams and your pillows, hugging your blanket close to your face when a spray of water hits your face with its startling coldness. A groan escapes you and you try to swat at the source of your bother but without any success. The attacks continue without mercy, soaking even your pillow. Hesitantly you open your eyes, hoping to avoid getting sprayed into them, before seeing a familiar figure standing beside your bed.

“Wake up, you lazy thing, we’re going to the market!” your grandma proclaims, waving the spray bottle in front of your face as a threat.

You grunt some curse words under your breath, making an effort in sitting up. “Okay, okay… Man, a warning would be nice…”

The only response to your mumbled complaint is another spray into your face before she leaves you to change into some proper outerwear. And you are almost inclined to leave the house in your pajamas if only to embarrass her a bit. But if you are honest with yourself, you will end up regretting that choice more than her non-existent embarrassment will be worth it. You will wind up being the embarrassed one, she will be nonchalant about the whole thing, shrugging your audacity off like nothing. So you almost have no choice but to change into some proper summer wear, yearning for your hoodies, but you would rather not fry in this weather, as beautiful as it is.

Dragging your feet, sleep still hanging onto your ankles, you join your grandparents in the kitchen. They are preparing for the morning market, and they expect your help if the basket squeezed into your hands is any indication. It is filled to the brim with green apples, Beauty of Bath, the ones you had picked from the tree just yesterday. You sneak a hand into the basket to grab one for yourself, but your grandma seems to have a telepathy or a sense of premonition because she’s already slapping your hand away, tutting at your allegedly bad behavior.

“Aw, c’mon, I didn’t get to eat anything yet…”, you grumble, still eyeing the green, fresh apples hanging off the crook of your arm.

“Stop makin’ eyes at them apples girl, shoulda woken up earlier,” she reprimands you, and you feel like you're being punished for something. Is she mad about how much of a loser you are in weeding out the garden? Did you step on a tomato while brawling those stubborn plants? Is she getting sick of you being a failure in her favorite hobby?

And maybe you’re being dramatic again, making a big deal out of her response, when you’re well aware of her ways of communication.

Still, this knowledge doesn’t stop you from pouting slightly, reacting appropriately. But you can’t help but light up when your grandpa goes up to you and hands you a piece of the pie. With a broad smile and a thank you, you ravish that piece, enjoying the way the apples and cream melt on your tongue, leaving a sour and sweet taste behind. Licking the rest off your fingertips, you both giggle about that secret exchange, while your grandma has her back turned on you.

Despite her obliviousness, she must have noticed something going on, as she begins to push the both of you out of the door, arms heavy with product, apples, pies and tarts. With your packed load, you begin to walk down the path to the village. Luckily, the cottage is stationed on a hill, so you only have to walk down with all that stuff, rather than dying from the slope. And despite the village sitting at the base of the hill, the distance between the cottage and the center is quite short. There is no need for any of you to use the car at all, even if carrying everything slowly turns out to be exhausting.

By the time you finally arrive at the closed stall, you’re barely feeling your arms anymore, the basket cutting your blood circulation off. With a grateful sigh, you manage to put everything down safely, before shaking your arms to get them back to work, wincing at the pins and needles appearing in your veins. Once you think you can use them again, you start helping your grandparents with opening up the stall and sorting the products into their respective spaces, checking if everything has survived the travels.

Everything is at its proper place the moment people start wandering into the market, the noise level immediately rising. The growing crowd carries their conversation with itself, the words traveling from stall to stall with people catching up with each other. The bargaining accompanies the chattering, the people trying to get their grocery shopping as cheap as possible.

Even you can’t escape the talking. You’re acquainted with some of your grandparents’ friends, so you have no choice but to greet them, which ends in you trying to dodge every question coming your way. Their questions and calculating gazes dig quite deep and if you don’t know any better, they seem like they’re analyzing your body language for any possible reaction. But that’s not possible, right? They’re just retired folk, they surely aren’t putting that much effort into their gossip, right?

You even start busying yourself with stocking the stall up, making sure there is always enough stuff from everything on the table, just to escape the awkwardness of the digging elderly.

“Oh, these look delicious, what kind of apples are these?” a voice asks you while you’re straightening the rows of green apples.

Oh, this is a rather easy question, so you grin and look up to answer, only to meet green eyes, soft curls framing them with the slight breeze and a shining smile. Your brain short-circuits and you can’t help but be mesmerized by him, the name you had given him in your head slipping out: “Uh, Pound Sweet?”

Immediately your grandma's elbow digs itself deep between your ribs, the pain pulling you back into reality. “What are ya blabbing? Those are-”

“Beauty of Bath apples, I know… Excuse my mistake…” you apologize to the boy in front of you, bowing to avoid making eye contact with him and falling into that trance again.

You can see how he hurriedly waves his free hand around. “Uh! No-No need to bow, everything is fine”, he insists and lets his hand rub the back of his neck, still giving you that brilliant smile.

And even after you straighten up, you actively avoid making eye contact with him. You’re sure you won’t escape those beautiful eyes of his if you get caught in them again. Instead, you let your eyes roam over his galaxy of freckles dusting his soft-looking cheeks, which mold with his bright smile; over his swaying, green curls moving around his ears, brushing the edges of his eyes, getting stuck in his long lashes.

Even his face sends you into a stupor and you don’t notice your staring until your grandma has rammed into you once again. Embarrassed, you let your hands wander over the apples, rambling about this sort of apples and their acidic sweet taste, while picking the number of apples he desires, You try to put your whole focus on the packaging of the apples and the piece of pie you decide to sneak into his order, catching your wandering gaze before you can even begin to stare again. Still, how are you supposed to prepare for the scars on his hands or the accidental touch of his rough hands as you handed him his package. The slight brush of his fingers against yours as he received his order sends you into another turmoil of thoughts and you hastily pull your hand away.

“Thankyoubye,” you blurt hurriedly, feeling embarrassed at your reactions to every single thing about him. For some reason everything about him makes you run on a higher sensitivity level leading to you slightly overreacting, probably.

Still, you feel bad for letting him experience these reactions at such a close range, so you look up and give him a crooked smile, a shy one, mirroring your current feelings. You feel the need to hide under his gaze and you scratch your nose to hide your face a tiny bit.

In return, you receive a bright smile with a thank you. You physically feel your heart stop, before you start choking on your own spit from the shock, resulting in a coughing fit. A curse tumbles with a cough and you have to turn away, propping yourself on your knees.

Well, there goes your good first impression, well done, you had ruined it, and this time you can’t just hide or run away. You can’t do anything but cough your lungs out, your throat getting raw; and if the tears in your eyes are due to your disappointment and shame, and not because your body is trying to eject your esophagus, nobody but you has to know.

After hacking a couple more times, your body finally allows you to catch your breath, as you hold yourself steady with a hand on the edge of the table. Your swipe at the beads of tears in the corners of your eyes, faintly feeling a hand between your shoulder blades. At first, you think it’s your grandpa, but the size of the palm feels too big to be actually his. And while the realization slowly creeps into your mind, the touch sears itself onto your skin, every skin ridge etching itself into your bones.

You swallow, trying to avoid the repeat of earlier, before finally raising your gaze and seeing Pound Sweet right in front of you. His brows are furrowed in some kind of worry, and you wonder why he would worry about you in the first place. You, nothing more than a stranger, as much as you want to change that.

Your eyes meet his, green and flashing, holding all these secrets, filled with a whirlwind of emotion you cannot decipher. You don’t register his question until after he repeats himself.

“Is everything okay?” he asks with a professional tone, and how can someone ask such a question in a professional tone anyway? Is he some sort of EMT and is used to people choking on their own spit, embarrassing themselves in front of him?

With a blink of your eyes, you realize he’s waiting for any kind of response, so you nod slowly.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. ‘Twas weird…” you murmur, as if your nod needs some boost in its credibility, lowering your gaze to avoid looking at him as mortification slowly fills your veins, hot and teary, crawling and ripping at your insides.

Instead of replying he just put a cup filled with juice, the smell of berries emanating from its edges. You recognize the barely touched juice from another stall close by, a couple of people had been holding the same kind of cup in their hands, savoring the taste with each sip. And with a small thanks, you decide to do the same thing, letting the sip on your tongue distract you for even a little moment.

You can’t help but take a second sip, as the cool liquid soothes your throat. But after that, you hesitantly return the cup to its owner, regret already pooling in your stomach like a heavy stone. Why did you take a sip? Maybe he wanted you to reject his offer, to keep his juice to himself. He probably just feels pity for your tiny miserable figure.

“Uh, thank you for that… Do- Do you mind me paying you back in some way?”, you ask with your raw voice, rasping each syllable.

You feel your insides knot with rising nervousness. You don’t know what compelled you to be so upfront, especially after your hiding, and your embarrassment, but you do owe him for that drink and his attention to you. And maybe you’re hoping to get to know him a little bit more, and nobody is to judge you for that.

“You’re welcome! And uh, it’s totally fine…”, he waves to refuse your offer so easily, while still keeping his brilliant smile, and you don’t quite feel like you just got rejected.

He rejected you and you have no choice but to accept it. That’s what any sane person would do in your situation. But to your misery, you don’t have enough sanity to make such wise decisions (later you would put the blame on the lack of oxygen, or just because his beauty crashed your brain). So for whatever reason you only shake your head at his answer and reach for some crumpled piece of paper. Snatching a pen from under the table, you jot your phone number onto the cracks of paper. Folding the ink and handing it to him you simply said: “Here, my number. Uh, I’m here for the summer, so maybe? I don’t know, text me, if you want to, I guess?”

You bite the insides of your cheek to stop yourself from babbling any nonsense that is crawling up your throat and clogging your brain from thinking straight forward. This day has filled you with enough embarrassment to last you a decade, you probably won’t ever forget this day, the memories haunting you for the rest of your life whenever you want to go to sleep.

He seems surprised, holding your number delicately between his fingers, and maybe you’re imagining things, but to you, it looks like his neck is slightly redder than it used to be just a moment ago. His mouth opens and closes with no words actually leaving him before he finally pockets the paper with no arguments. He agrees on texting you, before straightening to leave the stall with a small wave.

You wave back, hesitance creeping into your actions. The whole thing slowly starts to register in your brain and you want to crawl under the table of the stall and let the darkness swallow you. What did you do? What just happened? You don’t even have his name, he doesn’t know yours. That’s crazy of you, he probably thinks you’re some kind of weirdo… How did you ruin a first meeting in multiple ways?

With a sigh you turn around, only to make eye contact with your grandma, a sly grin adorning her face. And this is how things could in fact get worse. She won’t ever let this up, pestering you about it for probably the rest of your life, no matter how this whole thing turns out. You really don’t want to hear her so-called ‘advice’ or whatever has been cooking up inside her brain. So you immediately turn right back to continue whatever you have been doing before he showed up. Filling the gaps between the products, serving whoever decides to take a peek at your stall, and most importantly, relentlessly ignoring any upcoming conversation about Pound Sweet, no matter how much your grandparents try. No matter how bad you feel for ignoring your grandpa, but regardless of how tame he might look, he is married to his wife. And they both are borderline vicious about this sort of stuff. The elderly still love to gossip, and you’d rather not give them any ammunition about yourself.

The rest of the morning market finished without any hiccups, just with you averting their trials at interrogation in any possible way. And once you’re packing up and on the way home, their questions stopped, and you start to see the end of the tu-

And you had started hoping way too soon, as they corner you once you finally arrive at home. Trapped in a tight spot in the kitchen you have no way to escape the imposing figure of your grandma, especially with your grandpa guarding the door in case you miraculously manage to run away.

“So, you an’ the Midoriya-boy?” she asks with a raised eyebrow, almost like she already knows the answer to that question and you don’t.

“Who?”

You’re aware of the implication. She assumes something is going on with Pound Sweet, but because you don’t know his name, you choose the easiest thing to do and to act ignorant. Name-dropping only works if you know their name after all.

She grunts with annoyance at your shenanigans, waving a hand like she’s trying to get rid of something bothering her. “Dun’ play tha’ game with me, girl. Ya for sure have some stupid apple name for’im. Now, what was happenin’?”

Ow, bullseye. How does she even know that? You bite the insides of your cheek and avoid eye contact with her, trying to come up with some way out, but apparently, you hadn’t responded fast enough.

Her face scrunches up at your little wince before her facial expressions change from her usual scowl to unbelief, shock, triumph. You don’t even have the chance to retort anything, she already has her own conclusion made up in her mind. Still, you feel the need to say something, but nothing comes out of your mouth, leaving you to look like a fish on dry land. All wide eyes and open mouth.

With mirth finally placed on her face, she pushes your chin up to help you close your mouth.

“Imma leave ya to it. Should tell ya to be responsible, but I dun’ care,”, she shrugs and finally releases you from her entrapment.

You almost stumble over your own feet as you hurry with your escape, her snickers following you into your bedroom.

With a groan you let yourself fall onto your bed, burying your shame in your pillows. She won’t ever let you live this down, and every time you go out, she will be teasing you about him, even if you would only be accompanying them. There is no way you will be meeting him in the near future, not after your pushiness earlier.

You’re wailing in your conundrum when your phone suddenly vibrates. You stop your dramatic antics to furrow your eyebrows. Who could be messaging you? You barely text with your friends, and you’re supposed to be on vacation, so your workplace can’t be bothering you.

You stretch your arm to reach your phone on the commode, barely getting a hold of it. Once your phone is secure in your hand and not about to slip from your fingertips, you open your messenger to look at the received message. Unknown number.

And the moment you open the message you almost fling your phone across the room. The message isn’t long, it only consists of a greeting with his name, but that’s already longer than you had anticipated. Which is nothing.

But now you’re standing in front of the next hurdle. How are you supposed to answer? He doesn’t know your name, but to start with that would be weird, wouldn’t it? Could you use the spelling of your name as an excuse to still tell him what you’re called, or should you leave it to the future?

You scrunch your nose and stare at your unmoving phone, expecting an answer to jump out of it and tell you what to do. After just glaring at it you pick your phone up again, thumbs hovering over the keyboard, dancing a little over the letters. Writing and deleting. Writing and deleting. Nothing sounds right, no matter what you say. So in the end you just send some basic text, at least you hope it is. After your pushiness earlier, you tell yourself to allow him to choose what to do, that is the main reason you gave him your number after all.

And this time your poor phone didn’t get thrown away, but rather imprisoned into your commode. That way you aren’t able to see or hear any notifications. At least that’s the plan, but you had forgotten how your nervousness makes you check your phone every five minutes, hoping for any kind of answer, and then of course getting disappointed by the radio silence. And you immediately respond to every text, too excited to hold back and wait for a while.

Still, this leads to you regularly texting with Izuku, as it turns out you both are on vacation in this little idle village. None of you really disclosed your work, but his seems to be putting some strain on him, especially after he expressed his relief about this time-out.

So you’re nothing but eager to allow him to experience this village to its fullest potential, leading to your meet-up today. You both are going to visit the summer festival taking place.

You’re already buzzing with excitement. Even if it isn’t a proper date (as much as you want to go on a date with him), it’s finally your chance to act like a normal human being in his presence. Comfortably texting doesn’t mean he would actually enjoy your company, considering how awkward the first time had been. This thought puts an undercurrent of nervousness beneath your excitement, but you’re confident that everything will go well. You’ve come so far, you won’t easily give this up, not now.

After rummaging through your closet you finally discover something fitting for the weather of late summer, while being a tiny bit appealing to the eye. You’re not expecting anything, really, but it can’t hurt to feel good in your own skin when meeting him. Nothing but a meet-up between friends. With a final look in the mirror to make sure everything is in its place, you grab your bag with your necessities and leave the cottage with a simple call-out to your grandparents.

The weather outside is beautiful, just warm enough to not bother anyone, with a brise cooling your skin with its soft touch. You can’t help yourself looking up to watch the clouds slowly passing by. They look so calm and cozy, and for a moment they made you feel at peace. So you keep walking with your face raised towards the sky to let your gaze roam over the speckles of white and blue, the warmth comfortably laying on your face.

Your phone vibrates, ripping you out of your current trance of enjoyment. With a sigh, you sift through your bag to grab your device to look at the new message you just got. The moment you open your messages, a picture of your figure with your nose high in the sky greets you. You furrow your eyebrows, wondering how the sender, Izuku, even got this picture in the first place. You start looking around until you make eye contact with him. A grin already sitting on his face, lighting something inside of you on fire before you reciprocate with a grin of your own. With a wave, you speed up until you could stop in front of him.

You both exchanged a simple greeting, before starting to wander between the stalls and activities. There is quite a collection of stuff to do, ranging from a tombola, to shooting games, and different types of competition. A lot of things seem popular among the locals and the tourists, but nothing really spoke to you, so you aren’t sure what to do. That is until you spot a particular game you’ve always wanted to play: Apple bobbing.

Without thinking you just nudge Izuku to point towards the stall with the tubs propped in front of it. “Hey, that looks fun? Should we try it?” you ask, even if you’d like to just tug him along to play it with you.

Luckily he easily complies with your hidden demand, following you to the desk to pay for two people, before kneeling in front of a basin. His gaze already zeroed on the floating apples. You want to join him by getting onto the ground, but for some reason, he looks up to you, and your brain stops working for a second. He just looks so ethereal in the afternoon sun. His eyes focused on you, shining with the rays of the sun and his hair slightly tousled with the fresh breeze. His hands are simply relaxing on his thighs. He just contemplates you before cocking his head, seemingly noticing your hesitance.

And you almost choke on your own spit, again. But you manage to get your bearings before that happens, shaking your head to get back to your senses.

Carefully you take your place in front of the metal tub. You keep your arms behind your back to avoid using them in any way or form. Widening your stance a bit to fix your balance, before you shoot a look at Izuku, and you both exchange a giddy grin.

The person responsible for this game starts counting down until they give you the start sign. You immediately plunge your face into the filled tub, trying to grasp an apple with your teeth. You have been targeting a specific fruit, but it always manages to escape you just before you could take a proper hold onto it. And you probably had swallowed more water than it would have been healthy. You begin to grow frustrated at your evasive opponent, but before you could just throw the towel, you finally grasp the flesh of the apple between your teeth. Making sure you have a proper bite you finally straighten up. A grin hides behind the fruit and with your emergence, you feel the water coating your skin, cooling with the oncoming breeze, drying with no trace under the sun.

With your prize, you turn to see how the game had been for Izuku and you catch him already looking your way. His hair framing his face a shade darker and dripping. His head resting on his palm, arm propped up on the edge of the basin and a shining red apple in his other hand. He grins at you and you remember the apple still stuck in your mouth. In your haste to get rid of it, you almost let it drop onto the ground, but you catch it before anything happens.

“Uh, I guess you won?” you say with a crooked smile, shifting your weight from one knee to the other, and wondering how long he had been watching you struggle with that single apple.

At least you hadn’t let anything slip, like him being pretty, or how badly you want to brush the strands away from his face.

“Mhm! That was fun,” he smiles broadly, running his fingers through his wet hair, slightly slicking it back.

You blink a couple of times, stunned. Then with a breath, you stand up, taking a bite out of your hard-won apple. The slight acidity runs over your tongue, distracting you from the mesmerizing sight just beside you. You doubt it’s healthy for you to even look at him for such extended time, so you let your gaze sweep over the open field, looking for the next possible activity.

There isn’t anything really catching your interest, but you do discover a stall selling candied apples. And despite the one already sitting in your hand, you have a craving for one of these. Candied apples use a different type of apples after all.

“Oh! Do you wanna get some candied apples?” you ask Izuku, who has gotten up and has been letting his gaze wander over the place.

“Hm, didn’t we just get some apples?” he wonders and puts his hand to his face in a contemplating gesture.

“That’s true, but these are Red Delicious Apples, which often lack proper taste, and candied apples use these Gala Apples. They have a much sweeter flavor!” you try to explain to him without going on a tangent about the different sorts of apples, again.

He giggles at your so-called restraint, already aware of the struggle. “I don’t mind trying them.”

A grin spreads over your face with satisfaction and you march to that specific stall to buy two candied apples. They immediately hand you two sticks, from which one you pass along to Izuku. Turning to your own apple, you take a crunching bite out of it and savor the sweetness melting over your tongue. A content sigh escapes you.

Suddenly a hand materializes in front of you, gingerly wiping the corner of your mouth. Your wide eyes you follow the source of that hand, only to make eye contact with a stuttering Izuku. His face seems to get redder by the second, his hands already frantically waving in front of him.

“Oh, uh, sorry… you just, uh, there was some candy on your face…” he mutters, his free hand already placed on his reddening neck, avoiding your gaze with slightly hunched shoulders.

You’re glad you don’t have a full mouth because it would have been a waste to spit it out.

You waved a hand, trying to finish this topic before it could escalate in any way; your heart already lives in your throat. “No! Uh, I mean, thank you, I’d rather not walk with candy sticking all over me…”

This stopped the conversation, but now you both are silent, rocking on your feet, or shifting your weight. Doing your best to avoid making any sort of eye contact, as you don’t know what to say, you spot something you hadn’t expected at all. A Ferris wheel. You immediately whip around and point at it, already wordlessly pleading with Izuku to get on it.

For some reason, he looks like he already had expected it, and easily agrees; glad to get rid of that earlier tension.

That’s how you both end up last in the current queue, awkwardness already warded off by the quick walk from the stall, from which you almost dragged him behind you. So time goes by faster, you both start talking, picking up topics almost like you have been acquainted for some time (even if you technically have been knowing each other for some time, it’s still different to talk face to face). The conversation flows easily, both of you getting properly engaged in whatever forms the main point of your talking. You’re only focused on him, and that’s how you’re able to notice so many of his tiny quirks. The way he just dives into his explanations and analysis, getting excited about his favorite topics and research. His scarred, calloused hands move in sync with his talking, almost like they’re supporting him in his current endeavor. His stream of thoughts doesn’t mean he’s ignoring your own, but rather the opposite; he’s listening and considering them, leading to an in-depth conversation. You never had the possibility to dive that deep into certain topics, and you appreciate his seemingly vast knowledge in your own interests.

While enjoying this talk, the guilt begins to resurface, blubbering and hot, steaming its way up your throat. The accident wafts in your head, penetrating your nose like the smell of bad eggs. You couldn’t ignore the pressure, the urge to confess everything to him, as if you have committed a grave sin. And maybe you would, if you allow the both of you to explore this any further, without being in the open about anything. You should tell him before it’s too late and you lose yourself completely.

So you take a breath, trying to get rid of the steam clogging your lungs. “Uhm, I’m sorry for interrupting you. But, uh, I need to tell you something… I’ve met you before? I mean before that day at the market… Even, uh, even if it wasn't really… meeting, more like… How do I say that… Didn’t an apple fall onto your head, or something?” you stutter, realizing you don’t have a proper plan for this.

This is going to suck.

He slowly nods, a furrow appearing between his eyebrows and his bottom lip slightly juts out. You err for a moment, getting distracted, but you shake your head to get yourself out of that daze and to continue talking.

“Yes! Uh, the apple was me. No, I mean, uh, I let the apple fall and didn’t see you. Sorry… And… and I didn’t tell you earlier because I- uh, I wanted you to like me? I mean, I wanted a good first impression, I guess?”

You pull your shoulders up and avoid looking at his face, waiting for the inevitable. He’s going to get mad, just walk away. At least the outfall can happen before you completely are gone for him.

You wait for any kind of reaction from him, but all you can hear is his phone ringing. He just sighs before turning around to accept the call. And the moment he starts talking, you realize he’s speaking a language you aren’t understanding at all, and you wish you had learned more languages.

He put the phone away with a furrow between his eyebrows, driving his hand through his hair, letting strands stand slightly and frizzing his curls.

“I’m sorry, but, uh, there has been an emergency, and… and I have to go…” he simply explains with a smile. But this smile doesn’t shine like his usual ones, regret almost seeping through the gaps of his teeth; and you wonder if it’s your fault.

“O-Oh! That’s fine, yeah. Maybe, uh, maybe we could finish another time?” You have to ask, this isn’t the last time you’re seeing him, is it? Maybe… Maybe you still can see each other, right?

Wrong. His mouth pulls down and the furrow seems to deepen. “I- I’m sorry. I have to return to my home, to my country…”

That makes sense. It’s an emergency, he has no other choice. And you understand, you really do. That doesn’t make it hurt less though. He could at least respond to whatever you had said earlier, but he seems to be in a rush, giving you a simple goodbye before walking away, leaving you at the other end of the queue. And for some reason, you feel like he’s running away, like everything is your fault.

You end up getting onto the Ferris wheel. All alone. And despite the sun warming the wagon, it feels cold, empty, soaking. Getting off you only carry a swollen waterline and a burning nose, only to immediately go home without even looking at the rest of the festival.

It hurts more than you thought it would; it feels like rejection. Even if nothing has been going on in the first place. And you have no choice but to bury these feelings deep in the waters of your insides, drowning them in the cold soaking after the steam had left, and to go on with your life. Spending time with your grandparents, surrounded by apples, despite never picking them yourself anymore.

And before you know it (that’s a lie, you’re so well aware how much time passed), summer is over and you’re already boarding the train to return to the city, to your tiny, homey space and your distracting work.

And work is distracting but also exciting. The company you’re working for is planning a collaboration with another one in Japan, and as it’s your job, you will be the one to lead the negotiations. After preparing with enough language and culture classes to get around, a few weeks after returning, you have to leave again, boarding a plane and making yourself comfortable for the upcoming hours. But you don’t mind the lost time, rather enjoying the flight and the food.

Doesn’t stop you from feeling groggy when you finally arrive in Japan, the sleep you managed to get doesn’t satiate your body. The haze lays heavy on your mind, making navigating through the busy streets more difficult than it’s supposed to be. And despite your language courses, you struggle to read the street signs, regretting not learning the language earlier. The language barrier hadn’t budged even with your basis of talk. You hope to strengthen your skills with your stay.

But that’s for future you, because the moment you finally step into the apartment you just want to collapse on the bed and sleep for an unreasonable amount of time. As much as you desire sleep, you have to check for any bugs. This complex is supposedly one of the most secure places in Musutafu, specifically made for important people such as politicians and these heroes.

And you don’t belong in any of these categories of important people, but your company had taken care of the lodging, and you just assume it’s simply because of the documents and knowledge you carry. They can’t afford to lose them on such short notice, but that also means you’re accustomed to some heavy stuff, like the search for espionage in your living places. That doesn’t make you a hero though.

And you can’t help but wonder why these exist. You’re aware how several countries have laws to allow them, training children and turn them into their heroes (which in your opinion is already an iffy subject). But you’re not a lawyer either, so you don’t think it’s your position to complain about it. As long as they keep everyone safe, they can keep their jumpsuits for all you care.

After looking under everything and into every lamp, checking the mirror for anything, you finally get ready to go to bed. You have a couple of days to properly adjust to the time, fixing your current jet lag as soon as possible. But you also plan on walking around the neighborhood, at least getting to know where all the important shops lie.

With that in mind, you fall asleep. And lucky you, you don’t immediately forget about your plans, even though you usually forget things easily. That leads to you leaving the apartment to look for the closest bakery to get yourself a treat for breakfast.

You walk around with leisure and lightness in your step, gazing around and memorizing every little detail you could possibly ever need later on. That is until you finally stumble across a bakery, which you enter with a wide grin. The smell immediately welcomes you with a hug, leading you deeper inside. With a little giddiness, you step close to the counter to properly look at the different loaves of bread and pastries. It takes you some time to decipher the names of the pieces to order in your broken, basic Japanese. Despite your difficulty communicating the clerk still understands you and even helps you in bits and pieces, especially with your pronunciation of certain vowels, and you thank them for it.

They’re in the middle of handing you your package full of tasty food when the glass front shatters with a dazing sound. A surprised scream escapes you before the cashier can pull you behind the desk with them.

Ducking into a corner, panic begins to fill your senses, the smell of spoiling and rotting filling your nose, ants crawling all over your skin, ears rumbling with fallen rocks. You don’t understand what’s going on, but the person in front of you seems accustomed to such situations for some reason and begins helping you to calm down, your hand pressed between hers.

You both stay kneeling like that until a voice calls into the store. And it seems like it’s not the one responsible for this, as the person immediately stands up to join the green-clad person, who seems to be a hero, according to his jumpsuit, and the familiarity and trust of the clerk with him. By the time you join them, they’re in the middle of a conversation, but you can’t keep up with the fast pace, barely understanding any sentences as a whole. Despite this barrier, you manage to bow and to give him your thanks.

But you don’t leave immediately after, rather you begin helping the cashier with the glass and whatever had been thrown around when the whole place exploded. That hero, ‘Deku’ as the clerk called him earlier, tries to help with the work, handling some of the stuff a tiny bit clumsier than you have expected of a so-called hero. And he doesn’t seem to only be a hero, but a rather popular one, as the clerk had recognized him despite his face being covered with a mouth guard and some sort of hood.

And for some reason, you have a weird feeling about him, not a bad one. He feels familiar for some reason, but you’ve never been to Japan before and you’ve never taken an interest in these heroes, so why do you keep looking at him, your gaze just drawn to his moving silhouette. You just shake your head, trying to focus on the work ahead of you (and you think it’s maybe the green of his suit, the one so similar to the warmth of last summer; and maybe it’s the little mannerisms, the moving hands and the palm in neck).

He doesn’t stay for long though, being called by the other heroes to help with another part of the street, which seems to have gotten the worst part of the fight.

After helping with the best of your abilities, you grab your once-forgotten package, not minding how the pastries inside probably don’t look as nice as they used to, but you don’t mind. Who are you to expect them to make you new ones to substitute for them. It isn’t the fault of this place, but rather of those ‘villains’. You’re not going to make a big deal out of it, because it simply isn’t.

You leave the bakery and register how bad the situation has gotten. The rest of the street was torn apart, the mud shining through the chunks of heavy concrete, The other buildings barely stand on their own, their insides already crawling towards the sun, and you have to look back to realize how lucky you have been. If you didn’t enter this almost unscathed place, you might as well be dead. You would be nothing but a colored speck in the cracks of the cement.

The whole concept of heroes and villains is still bizarre to you, but you start to understand the necessity of these people in their silly jumpsuits (even if it still kind of looks like adults playing like children, only with much higher damage potential). And you’re glad these heroes exist, they did save your life today and they deserve the respect.

That doesn’t mean you don’t want to avoid such situations at all cost. So you just make your way back, this time without getting distracted, which is partly due to that incident, but also because you’re getting famished and these pastries are waiting for you, their smell already clinging to you.

And despite your attempts of avoiding villains and the fights they seem to carry with them, it appears that these kinds of situations are a normal occurrence, simply unavoidable, unless you barricade yourself somewhere, and even then there’s a chance of getting in the middle of any attack.

You curse your company and their horrible choices, after being in another attack once again. But you’re in luck, as that one hero, ‘Deku’, has helped with the situation; and diffused it with the help of another, more brash one. The explosive hero had gotten angry with you, for some reason, but you hadn’t understood him well, but his attitude made you want to punch him. And you would have if you were on vacation. You would have at least left a proper bruise before they led you away, but you can’t tarnish the company’s image solely because he’s annoying.

On the brighter side, you interacted a bit more with the green hero, just a few pleasantries, but those made you decide to finally dive into the whole hero business and learn more about them (even if just to discover if all heroes fumble around, are a bit clumsy, or just have a mean streak).

So after finally getting home after that particular fight, you start researching the whole topic of heroes. You slowly learn everything about this hero-culture, and you realize how much it resembles the celebrity culture in the early 21st century in the US. Polls, merch, websites and awards. You even stumble across fanfiction of these celebrities (and you have to admit to reading and enjoying them quite a bit).

And then you come across the current number one hero, Deku; having browsed through numerous footage, interviews and gala pictures. With a face to put behind the mask, you finally realize why you had been drawn to him. But you can’t help but wonder why he didn’t tell you anything about it. On the other hand, he did tell you about how stressful his work is, and with this new information, it all makes much more sense.

For some reason, you don’t want to wait for him to tell you, so you just download a picture of him in his hero costume, and send it to him, accompanied with several question marks. You cringe a little at this action because you both hadn’t talked much lately, both of you busy, but also the whole confession and then runaway thing has been heavy on your mind. That’s why you have been hesitant to text him first.

To your surprise, he immediately responds. A simple sentence.

“Can we talk?”

And usually, this phrase would inject the anxiety straight into your bloodstream, but this time you had initiated the conversation, so you kind of are expecting the topic. So you agree to meet him at a local park the very next day.

Despite the meeting park being local, you struggle quite a bit to find it, almost just going in circles, before you manage to discover the little bridge you both had agreed on meeting on.

You lean against the railing to look into the softly streaming water, watching the colored fish idly swim with the movements, and you regret not getting them any proper food. Still, you enjoy just watching the calming water, slightly leaning forward to get a better view of the underwater world.

“Be careful!” a voice behind you chimes and a hand lands on your shoulder to carefully pull you away. “You could easily slip and fall.”

You glance to the side and recognize Izuku, so you fully turn around to face him, this time leaning your back against the railing.

“Oh, thank you, I didn’t know that…”

After your response you both look at each other, silence stretching between you, one waiting for the other to say something. And because you can’t stand this thickness between you, you clear your throat, trying to prepare to say something.

“Uhm, listen, I understand why you didn’t tell me. The whole ‘my work is dangerous or needs a big amount of secrecy’ isn’t a new concept to me. I just wonder… Uhm, well, I just wonder if you’re hesitant to tell me because of your work ethic, or, uhm, the whole apple accident, and me practically lying to you?” Well done, for some reason you just start talking about that past, not being able to just forget about it. Your peace of mind kind of relies on his answer right now. And you didn’t lie, you’re not mad at him for not telling you, just confused, because he did encounter you twice.

His hands already wave these thoughts away. “No! Well, the thing is just, I was on leave when we met, and uh, I didn’t want you to get hurt because you’re seen with me. And… and I wasn’t sure how your perception of me would change. I liked just being a normal person around you… It definitely wasn’t because of that apple… Uhm, it’s because I already knew when you told me. The leaves didn’t hide you very well, and I kind of got curious about you…”

You don’t say anything and just gape at him, unbelief evident in your speechlessness. It only takes a moment for the embarrassment to truly sink its teeth as you realize how both your alleged first meetings have been a full-on defeat.

With a silent groan, you bury your face in your hands, the realization being uncomfortable and yet gratifying.

“Honestly? This doesn’t make it better…” you grumble but slightly perk up when you hear his soft giggle ring, and you can’t help yourself but peak at his bright, smiling face.

After that you both spend the rest of the time until his patrol simply talking; you answering his inquiry why you’re in Japan with a simple ‘work’ and a grin, as you both cannot disclose details of your occupations.

Once he has to leave for work, he promises to meet you again, or at least to call you; to simply do his best to meet you in the middle this time. And you take his word to heart, but also promising to work with him, meet him in the middle.

This leads to him calling you daily, until you memorize his patrol schedule to call him at the right time to hold a small conversation, avoiding all topics about work and instead indulging in the many interests you both share. And if he doesn’t call, he still sends you a quick text in his break, to just simply let you know that he’s safe and thinking of you. And despite your meetings never happening due to clashing schedules, you’re content with the moments you still get with him, staying on the phone for hours until one of you falls asleep (or has to leave), playing mini-games, or simply sending pictures of cats and whatever has caught your eye.

To your regrets, you never manage to see him face-to-face again before the negotiations have been successful and your work in Japan is officially over. You have to return to your country, as much as you learned to love this country, and as much as you desire to stay. Your work is expecting you to just come back, it’s the only constant in your life in the city. If you decide to throw it all away, who would you be? What were you supposed to do with yourself, without backup, without something else to hold onto?

So you book your return flight, giving yourself a couple of days to pack up and to properly say goodbye to this town. Of course, you told Izuku, and he wants to see you before you go, but his work is using up all his time, he barely has any to even send you a goodnight text. You understand the pressure he’s under, and there’s no way you want to put more weight onto his shoulders.

After spending your last days just enjoying the place, you take a cab to the airport, and for the first time in your stay, you almost wish for a villain attack, if only to see him briefly. But nothing happened. The whole way has been peaceful and nothing happened, not when it finally would have been convenient for you.

With a last look at the skyline of the city, you enter the airport. Inside you start looking for the check-in but stop in your tracks when you hear someone calling your name. Did you mishear, and it’s just another person with a similar name? Despite this possibility, you look around until you hear the same shout once again.

And then you spot it, a green head of hair above everyone else.

Izuku seems to have noticed you at the same time, making eye contact with you before breaking into a big smile, at least his eyes do, as the rest of his face is covered by a medical mask. He begins hurrying towards you, avoiding any collision with the people around you to the best of his abilities.

After a short moment, he finally stops in front of you, hand already scratching the back of his neck. “I’m glad I still caught you! Uhm, here.”

A colorful speck appears in front of you, a small bouquet of flowers, and you gasp slightly, eyes widening at the sight of them.

“Izuku, what, what are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy, but your work…” you ask, voice slightly wavering with confusion, but also accepting the handful of flowers with a giddiness.

The tips of his ears turn red, indicating his flushed face. “Uh, I wanted to ask you out… on, uh, a date, but you know. We barely saw each other and.. and I thought I still had some time. But then you told me, you were leaving and I had to do something! I mean, I’m not asking you to stay, I would love for you to stay, but uh, I know you can’t, but maybe you could visit sometimes? Or- or I could visit? Maybe? I honestly didn’t think this through…” he rambles, trying to explain his thought process with a strained voice and a hand in front of his mouth, muffling his mumbles.

You’re at a loss for words (which seems to be a recurring theme with Izuku), and your heart feels like it’s sitting in your neck, daring you to do something. And you do, once you process his words, a smile spreads over your face, before you carefully take his scarred hand into yours, letting your thumb softly caress his callouses.

“Izuku, I would love to go out with you,” you answer in a light voice, in a voice full of the warmth of last summer and the flow of the water; simply watching as his forest green eyes accept your offerings, lighting up, tearing up.

His fingers press against yours, caressing your knuckles and squeezing his palm against yours.

And you wish this moment would never end. But you have a flight to catch, and he’s supposed to be at work. Yet this isn’t a goodbye, even if you’re leaving. Reluctant to let go, he presses his forehead against yours in a silent goodbye, none of you wanting to say the words outright, trying to let any kind of illusion live longer.

But eventually, you have to break those connections to him, the loss making your skin yearn and long for the warmth of him. With small steps, you force yourself to retreat, to only glance at him occasionally until his figure has been concealed by the sheer amount of people. And your insides hurt, trying to convince you to go back, to just stay here with him, but you continue to step further, to catch your flight, to persist through these endless hours up in the sky, and to arrive in your town. In your home. But for some reason, you feel estranged, almost like you’ve never truly belonged to this place. And this thought only pushes you further, your plan slowly clicking into place like Tetris. And you're going to clear it, to win.

You punch through whatever obstacle lies ahead of you: the jetlag, the needed signatures for the forms, the time it took you to finish different courses and meetings. Whatever must be done, you will do it.

Throughout the whole ordeal, Izuku and you stay in contact as much as possible, even with the time difference, and your difficult schedules; enjoying the late-night calls while he prepares to go on patrol. And not once had you slipped, allowing him to be unaware of your workings behind the scenes.

You didn’t want to tell him until you finally arrived in Japan until all your work finally paid off. You have managed to convince your workplace to permanently relocate you to Musutafu with the agreement to travel to whatever place whenever they need you. Considering you often have to comply with these rules anyway, this was a striking deal in your favor.

So there you are. Stepping into the airport, immediately trying to pull your phone out to call Izuku and to surprise him. But before you even have the chance to dial his number, you once again spot a mop of green hair. You doubt your senses, doubt if it’s even him in the first place until the tell-tale green continues to move closer to you.

And then he steps out of the crowd, hair slightly tousled, medical mask pulled down to reveal a bright, slightly mischievous grin, and his focussed gaze, looking you up and down, filled with wonder and curiosity.

For a moment you both just stand there, looking at each other, trying to assess if this situation is real before you just let go of your baggage to jump at him, to wrap his huge frame with your own arms if only to feel his very real warmth and heartbeat. Too immersed in the moment and spurred by his own arms slightly crushing you into him, you put your hands on his face, appreciating every little detail, his freckles, his forest green eyes only looking at you, and his plush lips. And you wonder how they would feel on your own before they just meet yours. You don’t know if you’re the one who moved, or if he seemingly reacted to your thoughts, but it doesn’t matter. Only he matters, only the way his lips caress yours matters.

After barely a breath you both split, only leaving the least amount of space between you, forehead on forehead, nose touching nose, breath mingling like dancers. And your grins mirroring.

“So, whatcha say? Wanna let me take you out?” you ask with a slight tease, anticipation filling the little room between you.

He accepts. His smile warming your ribcage, and the smell of apple pies seems to linger between you.

And you wonder if the next time you climb on a tree, someone would be waiting on the ground and catching the sweet fruits for you.

#izuku midoriya x reader #midoriya x you #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya izuku x you #bnha reader insert #meet fruit collab #midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #izuku x you #izuku midoriya x you #deku x reader #deku x you #mha reader insert

359 notes · View notes

hippolotamus · 5 months

Text

WIP Wednesday 🎩

Tagged by the delightful and talented @wikiangela @daffi-990 @jamespearce9-1-1 @loserdiaz @hoodie-buck @apothecarose @eddiebabygirldiaz @callmenewbie @gayedmundodiaz @exhuastedpigeon @thewolvesof1998 (I haven't gotten around to reading all your lovely snippets but I have no doubt they're amazing) 😘

I just finished up Secret Fic™️ and don't have much I can share that isn't spoilery. So here's a snippet from come close (let me be home) aka Bridgerton AU (prev snippet here). 87% sure I haven't shared this before, but if you've read it no you haven't.

“We have arrived, Viscount.” Eddie hooks a finger in his shirt collar, tugging at the fabric, and takes a centering breath. The miniscule gap isn’t near enough to erase the suffocating feeling created by the sight of his childhood home, just on the other side of the carriage doors. Rather, more importantly, from his mother lurking inside the looming estate. The sky is a brilliant blue, with puffy clouds slowly drifting by. A perfect day to take Christopher out with a kite or even a stroll around the grounds. Instead, Eddie is here at his mother’s insistence. She claimed it was necessary and urgent. For whom remains to be seen, but he suspects only for her. “Sir?” His driver calls from the front. “Coming,” Eddie replies with a world weary sigh. He straightens his back, opens the door, and steps down to the dirt and cobblestone ground below. As he gets closer to the walnut entryway, with its gilded handles and stained glass, his only desire is to be back with his son. Sophia, his sister and next youngest (former) Diaz, is already waiting for him as he hands off his hat to be hung in the hall. She wraps him in a loose embrace, which he easily reciprocates, planting a light kiss on his cheek. “Hello, sister. Do I even need to ask why mother’s forced me here? I can only imagine how terrible it must be if you’ve been brought in for reinforcement.” “Whatever makes you think that?” She scoffs, holding a hand to her heart in mock surprise. “Oh, maybe only because she loves to trot us out when the other isn’t following her plan to marry us off, or whatever other bidding she needs done.” Eddie fidgets with his shirtsleeves, glaring around the foyer. “I suppose she’s going to double her efforts from her last attempt with me since you found such a suitable match during your coming out season. And produced not one, but, likely, two perfect heirs,” he adds nodding at Sophia’s belly. “Oh, Edmundo.” His sister shoots him a brief lighthearted scowl before she rubs at her protruding abdomen, beaming with a sense of pride and love he is all too familiar with. The type he feels every time he looks at Christopher. “Shall we?” He guides them from the main hall to the drawing room, wanting to make sure his sister rests. Her baby won’t be arriving for another five months or so, but he knows she’ll never pause and look out for herself unless someone makes her.

no pressure tagging @disasterbuckdiaz @giddyupbuck @spotsandsocks @underwater-ninja-13 @fortheloveofbuddie @eowon @jesuisici33 @rmd-writes @vanillahigh00 @welcometololaland LOML @lizzie-bennetdarcy @watchyourbuck @monsterrae1 @malewifediaz @shortsighted-owl @stereopticons @elvensorceress @spagheddiediaz @chaosandwolves @wildlife4life @your-catfish-friend @buddierights @911onabc @the-likesofus @spaceprincessem @fionaswhvre @barbiediaz @honestlydarkprincess @pirrusstuff @steadfastsaturnsrings @weewootruck @messyhairdiaz @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @evaneds @maygrantgf @lemonzestywrites @buckbuckgoose @statueinthestone @heartshapedvows and anybody else who wants to share

#hippo writes #wip wednesday #fic: come close (let me be home) bridgerton #it will return from the war one of these days i swear #i haven't forgotten about this beloved wip #eddie diaz #sophia diaz #buddie wip

61 notes · View notes

thesakuragarnet · 5 months

Text

One Stupid Phrase

Summary: When an accidental k!nk discovery shifts the entire situationship dynamic.

THIS WORK IS 18+ ONLY! S3XUAL TAGS WILL BE HIDDEN BELOW THE KEEP READING BUTTON!

Non-Spicy Tags: smut, heavy smut, DabiHawks, swearing

Word Count: 1,628 words

AO3 Link

Spicy Tags: subtop Dabi, power bottom Hawks, k!nk discovery, praise k!nk, aftercare, a n a l s3x, cr3amp!e, dom/sub undertones

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

Dabi flinches at the phrase, feeling the blood drain from his face…and rush between his legs. Here he was: balls deep in his forbidden lover, getting interrupted by a phone call from Skeptic, and all Hawks did was say one simple, stupid phrase.

“Be a good boy and answer it.”

Dabi froze, and Hawks clearly felt the reaction based on his surprised facial expression. It was supposed to be a joke; just another dig the hero made to mock him. Dabi instantly hated it. He hated how hearing those words made his heart flutter.

“Something wrong?” Hawks hums with a sly grin as he starts clicking the puzzle pieces together. Dabi bites his lip, avoiding eye contact as he pulls out. He takes off the condom and tosses it into the trash bin by the bed before picking up his phone…which stops ringing before he can click the green button. He missed the call…because he couldn’t handle being praised. He’s supposed to be untouchable. Emotionless. Cold and callous. The fact that he’s fucking Hawks shouldn’t mean anything to him…and it hadn’t. But if they were just enemies with benefits, why was he about to lose his mind over Hawks calling him a “good boy”? He tightly grips the phone in his hand, trying hard not to burn it to ashes.

"Hellooo? Dabs?" Hawks whistles, trying to get his attention, but Dabi just stares at the phone, subtly shaking with rage. He slowly puts the phone back on the nightstand before he turns to leer at Hawks.

"Seems like I touched a nerve," The Pro grins slyly, biting his bottom lip as he stares at his lover's twitching cock.

"Fuck you," Dabi huffs under his breath, trying to regain his cool. Unfortunately, Hawks' words keep swimming in his head, sending a shiver down his spine and making him feel like he's melting.

“There’s no shame in it, man. We all have our weird things that make us tick," Hawks scoffs as he sends a feather to softly brush across the side of the villain's face. Dabi angrily swats it away, but when he turns his attention back to the bed, Hawks' expression is practically feral.

"How about we explore this a little more, shall we?" He sneers, wincing as he sits up and pats the empty space on the bed beside him. "Why don't you lie down?"

"I am not gonna get fucked by some Commission puppet like you," Dabi snaps, and Hawks clicks his tongue.

"And you're not going to, hothead. Just trust me. Be a good boy and lie down on your back," Hawks commands, his eyes narrowing, and that same chilling twist in Dabi's gut stirs again. He gulps, almost scared he's gonna start to sweat under the pressure. He stares at the bed, his eyes flicking from the Hero to the empty space. Part of him thinks he should just pounce and fuck into him to show him his place...but...another part wants to completely submit and comply. He balls his hands up into fists as his mind swirls. Hawks, on the other hand, is impatient.

FWIIISH!

Before Dabi can react, Hawks' feathers swarm him, effectively lifting him off the ground and throwing him onto the bed. Dabi opens his mouth to protest, but Hawks puts a finger to his lips, silencing him. Dabi swallows a whimper as Hawks straddles him, his aching cock just barely pressing up against the Hero's hole.

"Tell me...what you want," Hawks croons, slowly leaning forward and tracing his finger along the scars of his lover's jaw. The villain grits his teeth, eyebrows furrowing as he wrestles with his lust for dominance and willingness to submit.

"You," Dabi whispers, his voice cracking at the end of it, but Hawks isn't satisfied.

"What was that?" Hawks smirks, and Dabi takes a deep breath.

"Don't-" Dabi stutters, but the Pro cuts him off.

"Uh-uh-uh, be a good boy and tell me what you want," Hawks demands, and his words make Dabi shudder.

"Please fuck me," He whines, a hot blush dotting the healthy skin between his scars on his cheeks as embarrassment floods his bones. He can't believe he's caving so quickly. It's just...so intoxicating.

"How could I ignore such a pretty sound?" Hawks grins devilishly before he slowly begins to lower himself down, and Dabi loses his composure.

"Fuck, Hawks," He groans, his breath hitching into an uncharacteristically high-pitched sigh as he watches his lover force him to bottom out; the Pro arches his back when he finally sits flush in Dabi's lap.

"Shit, Dabs, you should let me be on top more often," Hawks chuckles before he begins bouncing up and down on his cock, making Dabi's eyes practically roll into the back of his head. Steam starts to rise off of the sweat that drips down his body; his emotions are going into overdrive, and they're filtering into his Quirk.

"Shhhh, shhhh, I'm right here, baby," Hawks sings between breathy pants as he cups the side of Dabi's face with a feather in an attempt to keep him grounded; he can feel his body heat spiking through the pulsing cock inside him. A weak moan bursts from Dabi's lips at the passionate gesture, and he feels his skin prickle at the gentle hushes.

"So fucking sexy," Hawks growls as he picks up the speed, rocking his hips in deliberate circles, almost like he's spelling something out. Dabi reaches up, biting his lip as he sits up ever so slightly and runs his heated fingers through Hawks' wings, eliciting pleasure-filled groans out of the bird.

"God, good boy, keep doing that. Fuck, that feels so good," Hawks breaks into a stuttering mess that makes Dabi feral. He grabs his love and smashes their lips together, whimpering into the desperate, sloppy kiss. Hawks greedily tastes Dabi's pleasured sounds on his tongue, eyelids fluttering as he feels Dabi hitting his prostate. Dabi's hands drag down the hero's back, gripping his hips before he starts thrusting up into his guts. Hawks breaks from the kiss with a surprised cry, tongue lolling out of his mouth as Dabi takes control, muffling whines in his throat with every rock of his hips. He's usually so quiet during sex...reserved...trying to suppress his emotions and exert control...but this time...he's so wrapped up in the heat of the moment that he can't help himself. Hawks is gasping for air as he tries to get a grip, determined to force Dabi back into submission. His feathers immediately flock to Dabi, gently tracing over the healthy skin on his chest and back, tenderly stimulating and teasing him. The villain falters, a soft string of curses tumbling out of his mouth as he relaxes his harsh hold on the hero's hips and slows his thrusts to shallow movements.

"Easy, beautiful," Hawks murmurs, and Dabi melts at the praise. He's never been called beautiful. Part of him wants to start a fight. To tell Hawks that it's impossible for him to be beautiful with how he looks and what he's done. But, instead, he closes his eyes, letting the words swirl in his brain. "Relax and let me do all the work for you."

Dabi's mouth hangs open, his breaths coming out shattered and rasping as he stills his hips, watching Hawks bounce up and down. The hero's cock is red and twitching, dripping pre onto Dabi's stomach, and Dabi wants nothing more than to get him off. But he can't disobey an order. Something inside him is practically hypnotized to listen to Hawks. His words of praise have the villain in a complete chokehold. The heat radiating off his body is starting to get too much, and he can feel the agonizing rush of pleasure building. He's close.

"Don't stop," Dabi pleads as his hands turn to fists in the sheets beneath them. His shimmering cerulean eyes lock onto his lover's golden ones.

"Wouldn't dream of it, baby," Hawks huffs with a smirk, picking up his rhythm in a way that makes Dabi pull at his own hair in desperation. The scarred man grits his teeth, his breaths coming out quick and short as he rakes his nails on his scalp, completely lost in the euphoria rising within. The pet names. The eager praise. The vulnerability. It's all so much.

"Ha-HAWKS! FUCK!" He screams involuntarily as his orgasm hits him all at once; the villain sees stars as his lover continues to ride him through every twitch.

"I need you to hold out just a little longer. Can you do that for me?" Hawks grunts, feathers puffing up as his own climax approaches. Dabi nods vigorously, exhausted moans being forced out of him with every motion. He needs to please Keigo, and he'll do anything he wants him to.

"I wanna-fuck- I wanna make you feel good," Dabi cries out, reaching forward to sit up and wrap a calloused hand around Hawks' leaking cock. The Pro gasps, eyelids fluttering, and it only takes a few swift, deliberate jerks before he's coming all over Dabi's hand.

Within a few minutes, they're no longer physically connected, but they're wrapped up in each other's arms. Hawks' wings surround Dabi in a sea of red that's shockingly comforting as he rests his head on the hero's chest. Hawks traces small circles with his fingertips on the villain's back as he watches him sleep. Dabi was never the first one to drift off whenever they slept in the same bed, let alone be the smaller spoon. Hell, it took Hawks forever just to convince him to cuddle afterward. Nonetheless, now, Dabi is practically putty in his hands.

All because of one stupid phrase.

#my hero academia fanfiction #dabi #ao3 #dabi x hawks #ao3 writer #dabihawks #toukei #hotwings #fanfic #keigo takami #touya todoroki #dabihawks smut #dabihawks fanfic #smut #praise k!nk #bnha smut #mha smut #hawks smut

71 notes · View notes

flamehairedwritings · 9 months

Text

Stray: Chapter Two

Characters: Lt. Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Female Reader

Rating: E, 18+ ONLY

Words: 4.3k

Summary: Ghost has a fine time making you admit you need want him.

A/N: Chapter Two of Six. A chapter posted every Monday!

Entire Story Tags: hurt/comfort, angst, enemies are lovers, porn with plot, they're not nice people, but are they

Chapter Tags: Angst, they say horrible things to each other, non sexual choking, Simon tied up, threats, dirty talk, just a lot of angst and heartache, reader is threatened, it's non-sexual

Read on AO3

Stray Masterlist

Please don’t copy or steal my work, and please don’t post it on any other sites. I do not consent to my work being used for AI purposes.

─

Chapter Two - The Warehouse

It was the message you never thought you’d get.

You still don’t quite believe it.

But he’d never lie. Not about something like this, anyway.

Striding across the warehouse floor, passing SUVS, sealed tight crates and people standing or sitting around, all sorts of weaponry strapped to their bodies, you ignore some of the eyes that follow you.

If some of them are doubting, your presence confirms it’s true.

Reaching one of the many steel staircases, you walk up, the picture of ease and control. Inside, though, your heart is pounding and your mind is racing.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

At the top, you round the railing and shove a door open. Two men raise their heads, both sitting on chairs, using a small crate as a table to play a card game on, and the one to your left nods down the long corridor.

“Down there, last room.”

“Thanks.”

Heading down, you press your lips together, the strip lights above you blinking and flickering irritatingly. And, even more irritatingly, your heart’s still pounding.

Get your shit together, get your fucking game face on, and don’t hesitate.

Reaching the metal door, you straighten your back and knock twice on it.

“Come on in!” a voice calls, the Brooklyn accent muffled through the door.

Gripping the handle, you fix an easy, warm smile on your lips, push the door open, and step into the room.

And you fight hard to keep the smile there as your gaze lands on Ghost, in only his jacket, trousers and boots.

The masks are still on.

Okay. All right.

And then his eyes lock with yours.

Finding quiet, controlled rage there, you swiftly drop your gaze to his arms, which are tied behind his back, to the metal chair, and then down to his ankles, finding the same. Both wrists and ankles are tied by zip-ties, and you’d laugh at the absurdity of that if you were anywhere else.

If you were with anyone else.

“Ah, Stray, sweetheart.”

Your gaze lifts to the voice, and your smile widens.

“Well, hello there.”

Angelo Vitale returns your smile, white teeth almost glowing in the dim room as he lifts his hands, the gold ring on his little finger glinting.

“There she is.”

Raising your eyebrows, your eyes flick to Ghost before back to him. “I didn’t believe it when I read your message, but here we are.”

“Your pretty eyes don’t lie, sweetheart.”

“They certainly don’t.” Folding your arms, you keep looking at him as he now looks away to Ghost, grinning like he’s won the fucking lottery.

Which he has.

You don’t know how he’s fucking done it, but he has.

I suppose that’s what money can do for you.

Your gaze travels over his yellow silk shirt, pressed trousers, shining shoes.

It can get you a team of well-paid mercs.

Standing before Ghost, you try not to cringe as Angelo slaps his hand against the hard mask a couple of times.

“Caught ourselves the biggest fish in the lake, didn’t we? Your intel on the base was right.”

Ghost’s dark eyes snap to yours, and it’s with practised, painful ease that you can appear nonchalant.

“I wouldn’t have told you if it wasn’t, sir.”

You see the faintest movement of his jaw beneath the material mask.

Looking away, tilting your head, you smile at Angelo.

“Shall I get to it, then?”

“Y’know what…” Angelo inhales a breath, hands on his hips as he looks Ghost over. “... Think I wanna watch this one. See what you can do to make the legendary Ghost spill his guts.”

Ghost turns his head, tearing his gaze from yours, and looks up at him.

“Like to watch, do you?”

Angelo grins, placing his hands on his knees as he bends down, looking him in the eye. “Oh, yeah. I like to see what she uses, it’s like art.” He tilts his head, softening his voice as he exhales a breath. “Think I also wanna see what it is about her that keeps you comin’ back for more.” He lowers his voice a little more, turning his head to look at you. “It’s that sweet pussy, isn’t it? Can bring the greatest of killers to their knees.”

Ghost is looking at you, too, eyes hard, and you manage to stop your jaw from clenching.

Angelo turns his head back to him, nose almost brushing against the mask as he murmurs, “If you’re a good boy, you might even get to feel it later.”

Simon’s arms flex as his fingers tighten into fists behind his back, but he can’t stop looking at your fucking face.

Your fucking nonchalant face.

Angelo straightens suddenly, claps a hand down onto his shoulder. “What a nice treat that’d be, huh, big guy?”

Ghost finally tears his gaze away, looking up at him.

He wants to ram his knife into the man’s fucking throat, spill his blood all over that silk shirt.

He will, one day.

He’ll make you watch. Maybe then you won’t be so fucking nonchalant.

He knew you were a piece of work, but not to this extent. Telling this fucker about the base? He didn’t even know how the boys were, who was still alive. Vitale’s men had arrived swiftly, with barely any warning, and they were fucking good.

Now here he was, in this fucking shit show, with him, and you.

He looks over at you again, watches the mouth he’d so adored open, but knocking on the door halts you.

“Enter,” Vitale calls, hands sliding into his pockets as he steps away, and the door opens, a merc appearing in the doorway.

“War Lord, sir, there’s something you’ll want to see.”

“Ah, damn, all right, one sec.”

Ghost frowns as he looks over to Vitale. “‘War Lord?’ Thought you were War Dog.”

Vitale smiles down at him. “Not anymore.”

“You’ve rebranded then, like a fucking delivery service?”

Fucking hell, Simon.

Your fingers dig into your arm as Angelo laughs, smiling widely. The sound’s false to your ears, and your eyes don’t leave him as he moves closer to Ghost, shaking his head.

“You’re one fucking funny guy, huh?”

Before Ghost can respond, Angelo’s fist suddenly darts out, colliding with his jaw. Ghost’s head turns with the action, a small grunt sounding from him, and you will him to keep his fucking mouth shut.

But, of course, he doesn’t.

“Can only do that ‘cause I’m tied down, can’t you, mate.”

Angelo hisses out a breath as he punches him again. Then again, then again. In the same place, over and over.

And you just stand there, mind racing again as you grit your teeth.

But there’s nothing you can do. Not if you really want to keep him safe.

Finally, Angelo steps back, panting, strands of his dark, usually perfectly slicked back hair falling over his forehead, and he inhales a long breath, massaging his knuckles.

“Not laughing now, are you, buddy,” he smiles.

Then, licking his lips, he turns, heading towards the door.

Keep your mouth shut, please keep your mouth shut, please─

Ghost clears his throat. “Yeah, best to stop before you get your lovely little shirt all stained.”

Angelo spins, fist raising, and you swiftly step in front of him, smiling softly.

“Sir,” you murmur, hands stroking his biceps gently. “Leave some for me, yeah? He’s not worth it. Not worth you.”

Angelo, lips pressed together, nostrils flaring, stares at Ghost for a few moments longer before his gaze drifts to you, and your stomach roils slightly from how it softens.

“You’re right, sweetheart.” Lowering his fist, he cups your cheek. “Get what you can out of him. Make me proud.”

Dropping his hand, with one last look at Ghost, he then turns and strides out of the room, the merc shutting the door behind him. Having turned to watch him go, you move towards the door, locking it.

And you gaze at the door for a moment.

And then you turn, looking at Ghost.

He’s looking at you, blood slowly seeping through the cloth of the soft mask.

Still.

Silent.

The corners of your mouth lift into a gentle smile.

“So… The easy way or the hard way?”

“You told him about base?”

His voice is tight. He’s really fucking pissed, and, of course, you don’t blame him.

You shrug a shoulder as nonchalantly as you can, because you got here after them; before you could sweep the room for bugs or cameras.

“Should be more careful about where you leave your maps.”

A lie. He’s not careless, and Ghost’s eyes narrow because he fucking knows it, too.

You’d used other means, but neither the man in here or out there can know that.

“I don’t fuck─”

Inhaling a breath, you move closer with a faux-pout. “I’m a little insulted you don’t respect my skills and talents, Simon.” You stop by the table that’s shoved against the wall next to the door, tilting your head as you smile. “Well, I know you like some of them.”

Oh, he’s really fucking pissed.

“Why’re you still fuckin’ with that little fucker?”

“Jealous?” You laugh softly, chest twisting. “Tell me where the cache is. Before this gets messy.”

“I’m not telling you a fuckin’ thing.”

The way he’s looking at you, like you’re nothing more than scum… Well, you know you deserve it.

So you might as well go with it.

“All right. All right,” you murmur softly as you approach, and you lower to your knees before him, hands resting on his knees. And you caress them in small, gentle circles. “We can do this the easy way.”

His eyes haven’t left you, and you see the small movement of his throat as he swallows slightly. “Do you like doin’ this, hm? Whoring yourself out for him?”

Your hands stop. After a moment, a slow smile lifts your lips.

Then, you’re suddenly on your feet, no, you’re straddling him, sitting down heavily on his thighs. He couldn’t stop the grunt that escaped him as you had, his lips pressing together as you sigh and drape your arms around his neck.

“There’s that jealousy again, Ghost,” you tut softly, practically purring. “I just hate it…”

Your hips are moving slightly, and he clears his throat quietly as you grind against his cock. Your hand is cradling the back of his head, too, fingers gently stroking. Sighing again, you lean your head against his, lips close to his ear. It’s with a soft, breathy voice that you next speak.

“... You know… I could be all yours…”

He just can’t help his eyes from falling shut, your hips continuing to grind.

“… I could leave him… work with you, only you… serve you…”

His eyes open and he pulls his head back, arching it away. “Stop it.”

Drawing your own head back, you smile at him. “What’s wrong, Simon, darling? You don’t like the thought of me serving you? Only on my knees for you? Your cock being the only one I suck, the only one I cum on─”

You break off with a sharp inhale as he bucks his thighs suddenly, forcing you to grip his shoulders.

“Stop. It.” he gravels, and you exhale a laugh.

“Why? Getting you all excited? Can’t you control yourself?” Your hands glide down his shoulders to his chest, moving to the zip of his jacket. “Why don’t I help you with th─”

His thighs buck again, making you grip on, and he hisses, “Get your fucking hands off me.”

Tilting your head, you press your lips together, exhaling a breath through your nose.

“You know I could remove your mask right now, don’t you? I’m surprised they haven’t already, but, then again, Angelo loves mystery, suspense. But I could take it off now, bare your face to me, to him, to the world. But I’m not doing that, am I, Ghost. So give me something.”

He looks at you, brow furrowing a fraction.

“Why haven’t you? Why haven’t you ever?”

You smile. “Tell me something.”

“You tell me.”

You gaze at him.

He doesn’t say a word.

After a few moments, you exhale a laugh. “As much as I love playing this game with you, if you don’t tell me something, anything, then he’s going to come in here, and he’s not as charming as I am.”

“Send him in, think I’d rather him than you.”

“Big words from a big man.” You’re smiling, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Trust me, you don’t. Tell me.”

He realises then, suddenly, stupidly.

You’re scared of Vitale. Not just for yourself.

For him.

Pressing his lips together, he holds your gaze and murmurs, “If you get these ties off, I can get us out.”

You frown lightly, briefly, then your features shift into practised seduction, your head tipping back a little as you laugh.

“Oh, lovely. And where would we go, Ghost, hm? The Bahamas? No, I bet you’d love somewhere like Skeggy─”

“I mean it. You know we could both do it, together─”

“Stop it.”

The hissed words had left you so quickly, so quietly. Your lips barely move as you continue, “You can’t win this one, Simon. Don’t make me have to watch.”

He opens his mouth, when, suddenly, you’re off him. Sighing loudly, in one swift movement, you unbuckle your vest and drop it onto the table. Removing a phone from your belt, you blow out a loud breath as you tap away on it for a couple of moments, then you toss it onto the vest. Turning to him, you place your hands on your hips.

“Come on, then, the 141, what’s the 411 on that?”

“What─”

“What are you all up to at the moment?”

“You know I’m─”

“Why are you here?” Your eyes have narrowed suddenly, and you fold your arms as you step closer. “They’re just zip-ties, Simon, you could break them in your sleep. Is this all a ploy?”

“Stray─”

You sigh heavily and raise your eyebrows. “I can see you’re going to be stubborn. Though, having you all tied up here, all for me…” A slow smile lifts your lips. “... It really would be a waste.”

You step forward again, nearly infront of him, and he tips his head back, gazing up at you, and he hates─

There’s two hard knocks on the door.

“Stray,” a voice calls.

Vitale.

He snorts as your arms drop. “Go on, run to your master.”

Smiling, you turn your back to him, heading towards the door. “Enjoy the view.”

Unlocking the door, you open it and step out without another look at him. Moving into the corridor after closing the door, your smile lingers as you look at Vitale, his hands on his hips.

And he’s pissed.

Before you can speak, he does, eyebrows raised.

“What’s takin’ so fuckin’ long?”

“This is Ghost, sir. It’s not going to be like with others.”

“Oh, so you’re not the fucking best at what you do, then? You’ve lied to me, countless times? Why the fuck do I keep you around then?”

Whatever it was the merc had to show him, it’s rattled him, and you can’t have his mood escalating.

Not with Simon here.

Softening your voice, you step closer to him. “Sir, I only meant that it will take a little longer. It will happen, I will find out for you.”

He shrugs briefly, staring at you. “How long we talkin’, then? Couple minutes, hours? Days?”

“No, not days─”

“How long, then?”

“Within the hour.”

He sighs heavily. “You have half an hour. Fuckin’ do something.”

You nod. “Yes, sir.”

Pressing his lips together, he then tuts as he drops his hands. “Hey, hey, come here…” When you step closer, he cups your face, tone softer when he continues. “You are the best at what you do, all right. I didn’t mean to be a dick.”

You smile softly. “I know, sir.”

“Hm.” His gaze drifts over your face, thumbs moving slightly against your cheekbones. “You gonna come to my room tonight?”

You shift your smile to a gentle, kind smirk. “Sir, you know I don’t mix business and pleasure.”

He sighs heavily again, blowing out the breath as his thumbs continue brushing against your skin. “I know. I know that. You only fuck for business. Maybe I’ll put a job out on myself one day, then I’ll get what I want.”

You manage a laugh, an easy smile. “Maybe you should, sir.”

“Hm.” He’s smiling, too. Then his brow dips a little, the smile lingering. “You don’t enjoy fucking him, do you?”

You’re quick, making your eyebrows rise. “Of course not. That’s just business. Certainly not pleasure.”

“Uh-huh…” His thumbs are still stroking your cheeks. “… and in all the times you’ve fucked him…” One hand moves, cupping the back of your head. “… you’ve not been able to give me a single piece…” The long fingers of his other hand have slipped down to your neck, where they squeeze. “… of useful information.”

You hold your ground, exhaling a strained breath.

“Sir…” you rasp. “… I gave you… the base location…”

“Oh, yeah. That was good.”

He holds you for a few moments longer, staring at you, then, he releases you, hands dropping to his sides.

You inhale quick breaths as quietly as you can, licking your lips, and he smiles widely.

“Let’s get somethin’ even better this time, huh. ‘cause you know what I’ll fuckin’ do to you if you don’t, all right.”

You nod, smiling lightly. “Of course, sir.”

“Don’t disappoint me. 30 minutes.”

“Yes, sir.”

He waves a hand at you, his other pulling his phone out of his pocket as he turns away, heading down the corridor.

“Go on, go, be brilliant.”

Watching his retreating back, you then turn to the door, your smile falling the moment you do, and you swallow hard.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Think.

Opening the door, you step back into the room and close it behind you, locking it. Ghost’s eyes flick to you, his head lifting.

“You done sucking him off? That didn’t take long.”

You shove away the all too fucking familiar pang in your chest, the ache, the anger… No… You keep the anger.

“Yeah, actually, he likes to be edged all day. Then I let him fuck me at the end of it.”

He just grunts, disgust faintly in his gaze, and you just fucking…

Striding across the room, you sit down heavily in his lap again, straddling him, and drape your arms around his neck once more.

He’s pulled his head back a little, frowning. “Fuck off─”

“Where were we?”

Angling your head, you press a firm kiss to his lips through the material mask. You taste blood.

He grunts, trying to pull his head back further, and then you pull back, gazing at him.

“You’re fuckin’ mental, do you─”

You shove off his hard mask, gripping it in your hand.

It’s minute, but you feel him stiffen under you.

There’s a pang again. The one you hate the most.

Sadness.

Gazing at him, after a few moments you lean over a little, placing the mask on the table, and then you turn back to him. He’s silent now, watching you, stone-still.

Lifting your hands, you keep your eyes on his as you gently and slowly fold up the material mask until his mouth is exposed. There’s bruises already forming along his jaw. His split lips are parted a little, and you can feel the small, shallow breaths he’s taking. Almost like he’s holding them.

You lower your hands.

He doesn’t speak.

Neither do you.

Then, reaching forward, you kiss him gently.

Then again, then again, then again, capturing his lips in soft, short kisses.

Your eyes have closed so you can’t see if his have, and your hands settle on his shoulders, and you almost don’t want to look, anyway, don’t want to know. You just kiss him over and over and over─

He pulls his head back, practically recoiling.

“What’re you fuckin’ playin’ at?”

Opening your eyes, you gaze at him, hate the confusion and disgust you find again.

“We never do this, do we,” you murmur softly. “Just kiss. I think I’d like to, while I have you here.”

He stares at you. Then his brow furrows.

“Did he teach you this technique?”

Now you stare at him. And then you smile.

“Do you want me to show you what he’s taught me?” Suddenly you grip the back of his neck and lean closer, murmuring into his ear, “Do you want me to show you the filthy things I do for him? What I say? How I moan for him?”

He’s pulling against the ties, and it gives you a twisted sense of satisfaction.

Maybe this is your new technique.

Using his imagination.

Licking your lips, you continue softly, “I wait for him, naked, my legs spread. Pussy dripping. I ache for his touch, his mouth, his tongue. He buys me lingerie. Delicate little things that he likes to rip off my body. And then I let him use me however he likes, and I love it.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he hisses, trying to put some distance between you both, but he can’t.

You angle your head even further towards him, lips caressing the shell of his ear. “Oh, do you not like hearing about this? Thinking about it? Picture it, Ghost, me spread on his bed, his cock inside me, me moaning his name─”

He bucks his thighs once more, forcing your head back so you have to look at him. Fire burns in his eyes, unfiltered, uncaring.

“Thanks for reminding me that you’re nothin’ but a whore. You fuckin’ deserve each other.”

You stare at him.

Your heart shatters.

Sadness slips from your bones… and it roils, contorts, burns itself into cold fury.

You lean closer.

“I think we do, Simon. Because I can touch his face. I caress it when he’s done fucking me, when his cum is leaking out of me I kiss every inch of it and I love him─”

It happens so quickly.

He grunts harshly as the cable ties securing his wrists snap and suddenly you’re off of his lap with a gasp, the ones securing his ankles also snapping, and then he’s surging forward and you’re surging backwards, almost stumbling over your feet until your back hits against the cold tiled wall, forcing another sharp gasp from you, and you’re trapped between it and him.

And he towers over you, staring down at you, chest nearly heaving as much as your own, and you hadn’t caught your expression in time.

Eyes wide, lips parted.

Startled.

Frightened.

You’d gone too far, and you know it.

Whatever happens next, you deserve it.

He’s still just staring at you, and you don’t dare look away from his gaze.

Waiting.

And then, finally, he speaks, voice so, so quiet.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

Swallowing, you inhale a slightly shaking breath.

“Simon, I─”

Gunshots break out in the distance, echoing.

Both your heads snap to the door.

Gunfire. Fighting. This you can handle.

It’s enough for you to pull yourself together.

Just about.

Looking at him, you inhale a quietly trembling breath. “Aren’t you a lucky boy.”

And then you’re darting past him, shoulder knocking into his arm, striding for the door, grabbing your vest and phone on the way.

And he lets you leave.

Your heart pounds as you unlock the door, yank it open and step out. The lights are flickering even more, parts of the corridor in darkness, but you stride down it without another thought, swiftly pulling your vest on and securing it.

Keep going, get out.

Think later.

Feel later.

You stride past doors and the place the mercs had been, cards scattered across the crate, the chairs on the floor. You can hear the gunfire coming from below, from the warehouse floor, but you carry on, shoving your phone back onto your belt.

Vitale will already be gone, his bodyguards, the nastiest of the fuckers here, will have got him out. They never come for you.

Turning a corner, you think of the nearest and quickest roads, which safehouse will be best, or wheth─

You sense him a second too late.

A hard body rams into you, shoving you back, a forearm against your throat pinning you against the wall.

“Where is he, Stray?” Soap hisses.

You sigh, lifting your chin to try and take in a full breath.

“Is that your gun or are you just happy to see me, gorgeous?”

He snorts, pressing his gun harder into your stomach. “Don’t flatter yourself. Where is he?”

“Room down at the end.”

“In one piece?”

You flash a smile. “If you’re quick.”

Pressing his lips together, he then releases you, stepping back.

“Funny.” His jaw moves as you rub at your neck. “Suppose I should be cordial and thank ye for the coordinates, saved us a lot of time.”

You drop your hand, inclining your head. “You’re welcome.”

“He’ll be fuckin’ thrilled ye─”

“Don’t tell him.” You’d snapped the order, eyes darting to lock with his.

He lifts both hands in a gesture of surrender, eyebrows high. “All right, all right. Jesus. Something wrong with ye. Both of ye.”

“Thanks, you’ve saved me a lifetime of therapy.”

Suddenly, a door slams open around the corner from the way you’d come, gunfire spilling into it.

You look at him, and he steps aside, jerking his head to the way he’d come. “Go.”

You treat him to a small, genuine smile.

“Thanks.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Suppose we’ll be seein’ ye again soon.”

“If you’re lucky.”

Striding past him, you break out into a jog, hearing him do the same as he heads towards the fighting.

Shoving a door open, you move down some backstairs as you press your lips together, pangs thudding through your ribcage.

Yeah, if you were lucky, and I wasn’t so fucking stupid, you’d never see me again.

─

Reblogs and comments make my day in a way I can’t describe.

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged or removed in my future works! (Note: I'll only tag if age is in your bio)

Masterlist

Tagged: @sistasarah-sallysaidso, @gifsbysimplysonia, @ryethebrokengae, @poohkie90

#ghost x reader #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost smut #simon riley smut #my writing #flamehairedwritings

86 notes · View notes

mystichanjumin · 1 year

Text

Forelsket - Lucifer x Mc (Reader)

Pairing: Lucifer x F! Mc (Reader)

Tags: Fluff,

Summary: It's nearly one in the morning, and Lucifer hears someone in the kitchen. Assuming that it is his younger brother Lucifer makes his way to the kitchen to give the sixth born a scolding. However, it is Mc that he catches and he can't bring himself to reprimand the human in one of the rare moments they have to themselves. OR Lucifer and Mc flirt shamelessly with each other now that they are alone

Forelsket (Norwegian): the euphoric feeling at the beginning of love.

“What are you doing out of your room at this hour,” Lucifer stood at the threshold of the kitchen with crossed arms.

Mc grimaced once she heard his voice and closed the refrigerator door. She turned to face the demon with her eyes downcast, “I know I’m not supposed to be out this late, but I was hungry. I came out here for nothing though, I can’t eat anything in there.”

“Was your dinner not sufficient?” Lucifer’s usual authoritative tone was laced with concern.

Mc winced at the bluntness of his question, “It’s not that… I mean it’s kind of like that, but you didn’t have to say it like that. The part I could eat was amazing and I thought it would be enough to hold me over until tomorrow…” she shrugged, finally making eye contact with the avatar of pride.

Lucifer recalled the meal, Asmodeus was charged with preparing dinner that night, and as he gave more thought to the contents of said meal that was when he realized the issue. His gaze softened as he looked into Mc’s eyes, he should have noticed that most of the things in the meal were things that her human palate could not handle; but he had been so focused on returning to his paperwork after dinner that he didn’t check in with her. It was easy for the demons to forget that their favorite human was just that--a delicate human. Surely if Lucifer had mentioned Mc’s delicateness to her, he would be met with a look of defiance and an equally as defiant attitude.

However, at the moment he was met with a crestfallen Mc, and he hated seeing his human in such a state. Lucifer uncrossed his arms and relaxed his shoulders, adopting a gentler temperament, one reserved for the human in front of him, and began to walk closer to her. Once he reached her, he placed a hand on her cheek, reveling in the way she leaned into his touch, “I wish you would have told me earlier, rather than going to bed unsatisfied. I’ll remind my brothers in the morning to be more mindful of what they prepare in the future. For now, let’s get you something to eat.”

“It’s not their fault,” Mc began to defend his brothers. “I don’t want you making them feel bad. Sometimes they forget that I can’t have the same things you guys can.”

“If not their fault, then whose is it?” Lucifer challenged lightheartedly.

Mc thought for a moment before the familiar glint of mischief flashed in her eyes, “Diavolo. It’s his fault.”

Lucifer raised his eyebrows and attempted to hide his amused smile, “Oh? Is that right?”

“He should have given all of you a lesson on human nutrition before I got here,” she lifted her head from where it rested in Lucifer’s palm and turned away from him with a huff.

“Ah, I see,” Lucifer place his thumb and index finger on her chin and gently turned her head to face him again. Once she was facing him, he placed a kiss on her forehead, “I shall tell him of this travesty tomorrow. For now, I can hear your stomach growl so go take a seat and I’ll get you something.”

Wordlessly Mc walked to the kitchen island and hoisted herself up. Usually, Lucifer would chastise her for the action, but they both knew he wasn’t going to do that right now. If he were honest with himself, he would tell her that the only reason he ever gave her reprimands was so that his brothers didn’t complain about his obvious favoritism towards the human; but his pride would never allow him to divulge that information to her.

He could feel her eyes watching him as he walked to one of the cabinets at the other end of the kitchen. Lucifer placed his left palm on the cabinet door, undoing a spell he had placed, and the door opened. He hid the item he pulled out of the cabinet from Mc’s gaze, wanting to see the look on her face for himself. Once the cabinet was securely closed again, spell and all, he turned to face the human with the item behind his back.

“Let me see. What did you get? Why are you hiding it? Also, why did you put a lock on that door,” Mc’s constant stream of questions made him smile.

She eyed him suspiciously as he drew closer. Lucifer stopped just out of reach, “Eyes closed and hands out.”

Mc snorted and rolled her eyes playfully but did as he asked. Once Lucifer was sure that she was not peaking he placed the item in her waiting hands, “Now you can open your eyes.”

She did so, and when she saw the item in her hands she gasped, “No way! I haven’t had this in so long!”

He chuckled at her child-like excitement, “I overheard you mention these to Beel, so on my last visit to the human realm I got them for you.”

Mc jumped down from the counter and wrapped her arms around Lucifer, after a moment of stunned shock he returned the embrace. “Who knew you were such a softy,” Mc teased as she looked up at the demon.

“You and only you know,” he placed another kiss on her forehead. “Can you imagine if my brothers saw me like this with you? Absolute chaos.”

Mc giggled, “I can see it now. Thank you, by the way, for thinking about me while you were on your trip. I know you were busy.”

“I think of you always,” he smirked knowing how his words made her heart race. “However, if you truly want to thank me then you will tell me right away when something is wrong.”

“I promise next time I’ll tell you,” Mc smiled. “Now I’m going to take this to my room before Beel sniffs it out and takes it from me.”

“Or you could take it to mine,” Lucifer countered, “Beelzebub won’t step foot in my room even if he did manage to ‘sniff out’ your treat.”

“Nice try, mister,” Mc gave his chest a pat before stepping away from him. “We both know what’ll happen if one of your brothers catches me entering or leaving your room at this hour. Thank you again, I’ll see you in the morning.” She shot him a flirtatious smile, “Good night, Lucifer.”

“Good night, Mc,” Lucifer watched as she made her way out of the kitchen. He made a mental note to himself to remind Mc why tempting a demon was such a dangerous game, especially a demon as prideful as himself.

Masterlist

#lucifer x mc #lucifer x reader #lucifer om #obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me fic #obey me fluff #You guys really liked the sneak peek lol #I hope you like the finished thing!#Lucifer om fic

263 notes · View notes

aneyef0raheart · 1 month

Text

𝔓𝔢𝔯𝔣𝔢𝔠𝔱 ℜ𝔞𝔠𝔢

TW: Backshots, flashing, freaky stuff, sucking and violence (I hope these are enough warnings to be aware that this is more than these)

You were a young woman who had amazing drift skills, one of the most popular actually. You are well known in your city and create a lot of commotion just for being seen in public. There was an event that was very unexpected and exciting at the same time, you didn't know why? Why didn't you know? The men told you there was a guest visiting this event, participating as you may seem. The two men that told you were Satoru and Suguru! You're high-key supporters and help you with your awful and joyful conditions!

"Heyyy Y/N, you're probably super curious who this person is eh?" Satoru said sitting on those metal chairs drinking a white monster energy drink. He just stared at you waiting for an answer chuckling while Suguru standing in the back with his arms crossed leaning against a wall. "Well yes of course! Who is it!" You said with full excitement grabbing both Satoru's shoulders. He tilted his head with a gaze upon looking up at me, "What if I said it was the one and only, D.K." You let go of my grip and stepped a foot back from him. You had my mouth halfway open and my eyes widened like they were going to pop out my eye sockets. "Drift King!? Choso Kamo!? Number 1!?"

I noticed Suguru giggling behind Satoru nodding and keeping his head down. "You're fucking shitting me." You covered my mouth with all the unexpected things crossing by. Before Satoru spoke again a loud engine was heard nearby the parking lot. "Why ye-" He raised his eyebrows and smirked looking at you. "He's here~" Suguru walked towards Satoru always standing by his side placing a hand on both your guy's shoulder. "Why not meet him!" "What the fuck you think we'll do!" I ran away from them dashing to the parking lot seeing a car with thousands of stickers with lightning bolts on the sides of the car. Just by the looks of the car, it turns out it was a black Toyota Chaser with such a low skirt. "How is he able to drift this masterpiece!?" I thought to myself, the fact that I turned to the side of his car noticing he parked next to MY CAR!? I caught him staring at it looking at my car in millions of different angles looking any damages, he seemed impressed by the brand and looks if my beautiful car which I LOVE!

My car was not an ordinary Mazda RX7, it had champagne pink wrap on it while my favorite anime characters were on the back of my car. It was pretty girly until you see it being driven. The car plate was placed as "S1M9ER". "Ayy~ Choso! Looks like you've made it to see our pretty lady right there." Satoru chuckled pointing me out to him. I turned my head to Satoru starting to get embarrassed. "What the shit Satoru!" I gritted my teeth glaring at him, Choso giggled and got out his car. He leaned his side of the car gazing me. "Nice car." Choso stated to me. "I.. I-uhm.. Thanks?" "Shall we begin the race?" He questioned, you didn't know there would be a race just now, you flinched for a few seconds wonder what race? With who? "Hold on a race? Race who? With who!?" You were so confused, nobody told me anything! "Ah, I'm sorry looks like Satoru hasn't told you that you will be competing with Choso, Y/N." Suguru announced for me. "E-EH!? RACE!? NUMBER 1!?" "That's right, you're good. You can handle him, even if you do lose you owe him something." Suguru and Satoru smirked "It's his choice what you owe him." Suguru exclaimed

"I- uhm... Sure I guess..." I said in a quiet lowered voice as I walked over my car with baggy black sweats, they make you look even thicker than before. To hide your ass from them freaky boys, you wore a baggy car tag shirt on top. Your style did not match your car, which was very unusual of anybody who does that.

Both you and Choso revved your engines and drive to a track where nobody was suppose to even pass, this is where the town host the events where a whole freeway was built and difficult obstacles included.

I'm sorry to tell you this but my noodle arms can't handle this, y'all gonna have to wait for PART 2!! 😭I don't even know you guys but love you! Good night or Good morning!🩷

#jjk choso #frat boys #gojo satoru #geto suguru #jjk #cars #car race #drifting #first post

23 notes · View notes

cozyenigma · 3 months

Text

Ingrained

Word Count- 1201

Request?- Yes!

(sorry this took me so long! I hope the tarot parts aren't too basic and it's what you envisioned! And of you'd still like the anon handle you can absolutely take that one!)

Tag List- @cookielover0001010 , @swag-droid , @watchoutforfrostbite

Warnings- None

Dark didn't need to eat or drink. Food didn't nourish the carcass he hauled around and drink did nothing to quench his thirst. When he found himself presented with these things anyways, Dark always took a small amount of pleasure in others discomfort when they noticed he never touched anything.

Still, in the privacy of his own office, away from annoyances and prying eyes, he let himself imbibe. A steaming hot cup of sencha sat on his desk. The fine china cup, delicate and thin, gleamed atop its saucer. Heedless, of the temperature, Dark took a sip.

It tasted like ash.

One of his human components, he wasn't quite sure which, had liked to take tea in this setting once upon a time. Steaming hot tea in a window seat with a good book. As much as Dark was annoyed at the bleed over, the habit helped.

As did the readings. Dark knew which one this habit stemmed from. The cards seemed to flow in his hands. Shuffling and dealing and reading. The deck was worn. Creased and faded at the edges, the cards showed their age. Part of him wondered if this was her set when she was alive. Probably not.

As he was going to set the spread of cards, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Dark's hands paused. Then he gathered the cards back into one stack.

"Back again, are we?"

The air grew noticeably colder, the steam rising from his tea that much more pronounced. They were here alright.

With a sigh, he started shuffling again. "Are you going to skulk about or try and wreck my office again?"

His answer was a lamp tumbling to the floor, glass skittering across the hardwood.

"Right." Dark ignored the blatant hostility and cut the deck. The DA, reduced to the presence they were now, would eventually tire of the destruction. They always did. It was only Dark's own aura that kept them from doing physical harm to his body.

The destruction was a nuisance but only that. While he didn't enjoy replacing and repairing his furnishings every other week, he wasn't about to give them the satisfaction of seeing any reaction. Eventually, after he heard them gouge long tracks into the floor, they stopped.

He hummed and placed the deck on the desk.

"If you're finished?" Dark gestures to the cards and waited.

The room was still and silent once more. He knew they could move and choose the cards. Whether or not they were shocked or just refusing, he could only guess.

"If you won't," he took up the deck himself, giving it one more shuffle. "I'll ask a question for you, I'm sure both of us have been thinking it. Why do you keep coming back?"

The sound of broken glass crunching under foot. They were seemingly grinding the shards into the floor. That got to them.

"Let's keep it basic, shall we?" He kept going, tone too casual for the situation. "Basic three card pull. Past, present, future, hmm?"

They slipped through his hands as easily as water. Three cards, situated in a line right in front of him. Dark pictured them in his head, brooding as they sat opposite. It almost made him smile.

Delicately, he flipped the first over. A woman wrestling with a beast that might have, once, been a lion. The wearing of time and distortion made it seem otherworldly somehow.

"Strength," he laughed. "Makes sense, I suppose. You always were confident in your skills, even when we were young. Clear choices, clear purpose. I imagine you and everyone else thought you were aiming for bigger and better things, hmm?"

The walls themselves seemed to creak ominously around him. If he didn't know better he might suspect they could bring the ceiling down on top of him.

"Yknow," he said, resting his fingers atop the next card, "this is less the cards talking and more supposed to be the people themselves talking. To put things to words, I suppose. Though you can't quite manage that can you?"

The tea cup beside him abruptly cracked in half. Hot tea leaked out in a small flood, nearly taking the cards with it and soaking into his sleeve. Dark paid it no mind.

"The present now then, shall we?"

This next card was so worn down he very nearly couldn't read the text. Though he'd know the upside down design without it well enough.

"Reverse wheel of fortune," he leaned back, shaking errant drops of scalding tea from his hand. "A run of bad luck. Much as you try you can't control the past, you can't control the present either. Oh my poor, poor friend. I can understand that, to a degree."

He scanned the room, looking for a shimmer, a shadow, anything to indicate where they were. If they actually occupied any sort of space in this reality. The empty, cold office didn't provide him with any insight on that.

"Neither of us were in control then," he said eventually, "as for now…"

Dark flexed his hand. What was once their hand. "I suppose I'll be taking that back for the both of us, hmm?"

No response. Nothing was destroyed in a fit of impotent rage but he knew they were still here. That crawling every present feeling of being watched was still there.

"Stop trying to change things," he murmurs, "I don't pretend to know where you're existing now but there's surely better things for you to be doing. Maybe even actually rest."

Again, nothing. Dark huffed and, without further preamble, flipped the last card. This one made him laugh. As much as he could laugh, anyways.

"Justice? Really?"

The card was fairly self explanatory, as far as other cards in the deck went. The woman depicted held a scale and sword, regal and just. At some point the face was nearly erased, a small tear going through where her eyes would have been. The now cooled tea had soaked into the paper, giving the card a sickly brown green tint.

"You're pinning your hopes on karma, is that it?" He tossed the card back onto the desk. "I don't think so. The world isn't that kind. If anything, I'll be bringing you justice. Bringing down the man that caused all of this is karma enough, I think."

The deck next to him abruptly flew apart, cards pinwheeling in the air and just adding to the mess. Heaving a sigh, Dark got to his feet.

"One of us can keep going with this cycle, old friend," he'd admit, the old moniker was a dig he couldn't help but slip in, "and I think you know who."

If they heard him they chose not to show it. The room was more than still, it was empty. That pressure, the presence in the air was gone. Which left Dark among the ruins of his office once again.

"Same time next week, I suppose," he mutters, plucking a card from the desk and giving it a flick. The sencha had truly soaked the thing. Even with the paper starting to warp and discolor, he could still make out the tower clear as day.

#dark x reader #darkiplier x reader #writersofmark #darkiplier #reader insert #youtuber ego #markiplier ego x reader #ego fanfic #my wriitng

29 notes · View notes

arcaneorphic · 10 months

Text

Forelsket - Lucifer x F! Mc (Reader)

Pairing: Lucifer x F! Mc (Reader)

Tags: Fluff,

Summary: It’s nearly one in the morning, and Lucifer hears someone in the kitchen. Assuming that it is his younger brother Lucifer makes his way to the kitchen to give the sixth born a scolding. However, it is Mc that he catches and he can’t bring himself to reprimand the human in one of the rare moments they have to themselves. OR Lucifer and Mc flirt shamelessly with each other now that they are alone

Forelsket (Norwegian): the euphoric feeling at the beginning of love.

“What are you doing out of your room at this hour,” Lucifer stood at the threshold of the kitchen with crossed arms.

“Was your dinner not sufficient?” Lucifer’s usual authoritative tone was laced with concern.

Lucifer recalled the meal, Asmodeus was charged with preparing dinner that night, and as he gave more thought to the contents of said meal that was when he realized the issue. His gaze softened as he looked into Mc’s eyes, he should have noticed that most of the things in the meal were things that her human palate could not handle; but he had been so focused on returning to his paperwork after dinner that he didn’t check in with her. It was easy for the demons to forget that their favorite human was just that–a delicate human. Surely if Lucifer had mentioned Mc’s delicateness to her, he would be met with a look of defiance and an equally as defiant attitude.