#I promise the next one will have a more festive tone

[quilteddreamz]

Silent Night.

Summary:

Exhausted during your nightshift you decide to rest your eyes for a second.

You didn't expect to doze off, or that a certain animatronic would take notice.

Word Count: 2,668

First short story for the advent calendar is posted! Thank you to anyone who clicks on the link and gives it a read!

This being my first published story, feedback is greatly encouraged! Let me know if the pacing, wording, or writing is off in anyway.

Anyways I hope you have a wonderful day and I can't wait to hear what you think :3

[junkissed]

bad neighbor

member — neighbor!dino x f reader genre — smut, college au word count— 6.3k synopsis — pros of living next door to a frat house: your neighbor is really really hot. cons of living next door to a frat house: probably everything else. smut warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, fingering, lots of making out, facial (cum on face), semi public sex (hooking up at a party) content warnings — slightly introverted!reader, chan is in college but reader isn't: can be interpreted as older!reader but that's up to you tbh, mentions of weed & alcohol (chan & reader are both sober), cameos from cheol & hoshi hehe notes — thanks again to @onlymingyus for helping me get my brain in order <3 please reblog or send an ask if you enjoyed reading!! it means a lot to me and it helps me continue writing :) i hope you like this fic!

it's still early in the evening when the music starts.

the sound of voices and cars honking outside your house draws your attention away from the latest episode of your favorite new show. you get up and walk over to the window, peeking out through the curtain at the bright headlights beaming at you.

with a sigh you push the curtain closed again, heading into the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea. if tonight is like any of the other nights, then it'll be a long time before you fall asleep. hopefully the chamomile will help—is what you tell yourself every time. and every time, it doesn't help.

living in the same neighborhood as the frat houses from the nearby state university was certainly a choice, but the rent in the area was the cheapest in town and you didn't have many options left. with the fall semester coming up fast, every other apartment complex and condo in the city was already rented out. after moving in, you'd quickly discovered why the rent was so cheap: not because the house was in bad condition or because the location was inconvenient, but because of the parties. nearly every fucking night.

you might actually be impressed at how these college kids find the energy to party so often, if you weren’t so fed up with them. every friday and saturday night, and even sometimes during the week, at least one house on your block was throwing some kind of wild party.

by now you'd seen it all: drunk girls throwing up on your lawn, shirtless guys doing keg stands in the middle of the cul-de-sac, people making out literally everywhere. and yes, including that one time on halloween when you found two playboy bunnies having sex with spider-man in your backyard. how they got back there was anybody's guess, but from then on you’d started double and triple checking that your back gate was locked every night. 

tonight, it seemed that the festivities were being hosted at the house across the street. and the man behind it all? none other than lee chan, president of the fraternity and owner of the house.

you'd only officially met him twice, once on the day you'd moved in and once the day after. his red honda had pulled into his driveway at the same time you were unloading your boxes from the u-haul, and he'd jumped out and offered to help carry your furniture inside.

at the time it had felt like this was finally your meet-cute moment, the friendly and unfairly attractive boy-next-door that sweeps you off your feet with love at first sight. but once the final box had been moved, he'd simply given you a smile and a wave and went back inside his house. no cute bonding, no exchanging phone numbers, no asking to see each other again. he just left.

of course, that had been before you found out about the parties, and the shock you were in for that same night when people had started showing up in droves had nearly led you to call the cops. so the next morning you'd put on a nice outfit and went to knock on his door, and it was then that you found out more about the neighborhood you'd found yourself living in.

with the same polite tone he'd used yesterday, he'd been friendly and apologetic for the noise, promising that he'd make sure everyone stayed on his side of the lawn and that no one disturbed you or your house. he'd explained that it wasn't a quiet neighborhood, no matter the time of year, but repeated that if anything happened he would take full responsibility for it. he said that you were welcome to come over any time, whether you needed something or you just wanted in on the fun.

you'd taken his word for it, sheepishly waving goodbye as you crossed the sidewalk between your houses, though you figured you would probably never set foot inside his house while there was a party going on. and as you’d walked away, you had tried to ignore the feeling of your heart fluttering with the beginnings of a crush on your neighbor.

tonight, however, your heart was doing anything but fluttering. music blasted outside, definitely a lot louder than usual, and the sound of car engines revving was already getting on your nerves.

you dunk your tea bag into the boiling water at the same time a loud banging on your door makes you jump, and you narrowly avoid spilling it all over yourself and the counter.

quietly you rush over to the door, looking out the peephole to see a group of people carrying cases of beer, looking around at your front porch.

before you can figure out how to react, you hear someone yell something distantly and the group turns around in the direction of the sound.

"shit, wrong house," one of the guys says loudly. "sorry, whoever lives here! have a good night!" he calls as they walk away, the others laughing over a joke you can't hear. 

with the crisis averted, you head back into the kitchen and pull the tea bag out of your mug, chucking it into the trash with a huff. full responsibility, your ass. 

and then… you have an idea. 

chan had been so insistent that you could come over if you ever needed anything, so you might as well take advantage of his offer. because tonight you did, in fact, need something. you needed the party to not be so goddamn loud that you can literally feel your living room floor vibrating beneath your feet.

you stick your mug in the microwave to reheat later and quickly change out of your pajamas and into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. presentable enough that you don’t embarrass yourself, yet comfortable enough that you don’t feel so awkward.

with a deep breath, you pull open your front door, keys tightly in hand as you lock it behind you and start making your way across the street.

you're almost at chan’s front door when a man steps in front of you out of nowhere, stopping you short. "hey, here for the party?" he asks, holding up his hand for a high-five.

"um… kinda," you say, lightly tapping his hand. you figure he must be the bouncer of some sort, from his friendly yet confident no-nonsense attitude and the way his thick biceps strain against the sleeves of his t-shirt. "i'm looking for lee chan, he owns the house?"

"gotcha," he nods. "gotta check your age before i let you in, though."

you pause, his words sinking in as you realize why he's asking. "oh, sorry, i didn't think i'd need my id," you apologize. "but i live next door, my driver's license is just in my wallet, i can go grab—"

"are you over 21?" he interrupts, and you frown at the question.

"uh, yes?"

"cool. head on in, then," he says.

you look at him suspiciously. "you're sure you don't need to see my id? what if i was lying?"

"dino will probably be downstairs, his room is the door at the end of the hallway on the left," he says, pointedly ignoring your questions. "and while you're down there, tell him cheol sent you. ask him to grab another beer for me."

he waves towards the open front door, and hesitantly you make your way inside. you have no idea who the hell dino is, and you can only hope it's just a nickname of some kind and the man you're about to go find isn't some stranger.

the second you set foot inside the doorway, it's like entering a completely different world. the air is stale and humid, clinging to your skin as you push through a crowd of what must be hundreds of people packed like sardines into every corner of the room.

the music gets louder the further inside the house you go, and you have to focus on repeating cheol's instructions in your head so you don’t get lost in the maze of hallways and doors. downstairs, end of the hallway, left. 

you soon find out where the music is coming from. unlike the normal house lights on the first floor, downstairs everything is dark except for colorful flashing led lights around the room. a man stands on top of a table between two huge speakers as people crowd around him, jumping and shouting lyrics to the song that’s playing.

there’s so many people that you have to push your way through the crowd, but most of the people around you either don’t notice or are too drunk to care. but finally, you make it to what looks like the hallway that the man outside—what was his name, cheol?—told you about.

you open the first door on your left and find four people sat quietly on the floor passing around a bong, a thick cloud of smoke hanging over the room. all four of them look over at you at the same time, glazed eyes silently asking who the hell are you?.

"sorry, wrong room," you squeak, slamming the door and retreating back into the hallway as you try your best not to step on anyone's feet.

with a deep breath you crack open the door directly beside the one you'd just opened and poke your head inside, and relief washes over you when you see chan inside.

he's sitting on a couch with a couple girls sitting next to him and a guy slumped against his shoulder, eyes closed and brows furrowed.

he looks up when the door opens, and a look of shock spreads over his face when he recognizes you. he calls your name and you step inside tentatively, saying his name in response. "chan?"

"close the door behind you," he says, and you jump to turn around and shut it with a click. he must notice you standing like a deer in headlights, because he motions you closer to him with a friendly smile. "sorry," he explains. "people will think it's an open room if you leave the door open. i don't want anybody in here without a reason to be."

you nod, but your eyes dart over at the girls sitting beside chan. he makes eye contact with them and clears his throat, and without a word they stand up, understanding the message.

he helps the man laying against him sit up, then helps him stand up and hands him off to the others. "don't let hoshi drink anything else tonight except water, okay? keep an eye on him until your driver shows up."

they nod and slip their arms around their friend, helping him stumble out of the room as he grumbles about something incoherent. "thanks, dino," one of them says with a little wave. "see you monday for that bio test."

the girls open and shut the door quickly, suddenly leaving you alone with him in the room.

"hi," you start, not knowing what else to say. it's been such an ordeal just trying to find him that you've almost forgotten why you came searching for him in the first place.

"hi," he repeats with a laugh. "honestly, i never thought i'd see you here. you don't seem like the type. so, what brings you over tonight?"

"you've only met me twice, how would you know what i seem like?" you reply defensively, thought he's spot on. this is not your usual scene at all, and you’re sure that anyone at this party who’s even a smidge sober must be able to tell how out of place you look.

he shrugs, patting the couch seat next to him. "alright, fair point. come sit down."

you carefully take a seat, purposefully avoiding eye contact with the collection of ambiguous stains on the couch cushions.

"oh, before i forget. somebody named cheol told me to tell you he wants a beer?" you say awkwardly, relaying the message.

"bastard," chan mutters, but he's smiling, and you assume the guy you met earlier is a friend of his. "fine, i'll grab him something when i go back outside." pausing, he turns his attention back to you. "but really, why are you here? i don't wanna make any assumptions, but i doubt it's for the free alcohol."

"if i was, you'd have to tell me where to find it," you say with a shrug, and he laughs but stays quiet for you to finish.

you fold your hands together nervously. "anyway, i just came over to ask—could you maybe turn the music down, like, just a tiny bit? and also… can you tell people to stop having sex in my yard?"

he winces and gives an apologetic smile. "yeah, of course. sorry about that. i told vernon to keep it down, but you know how he gets when he's…" he stops as if he’s just realized something. "nevermind. i'll go let him know right now. do you wanna come with, or you wanna stay here?"

"no offense, but i'd rather not go back out there," you laugh awkwardly. “it was bad enough just trying to find you in the first place.”

"all good," he replies with that friendly smile of his. "it's not for everyone, that's for sure. just make sure the door stays closed, and you'll be fine in here by yourself. shouldn't take too long."

he opens the door and slips out, slamming it closed behind him. you sit unmoving on the couch, finally glancing at your surroundings.

unlike the first room, the air here is fairly clean, other than the faint smell of alcohol and weed wafting in from under the door. you realize this must be chan's actual bedroom, when you see the posters that cover the walls and the bookshelf full of knick-knacks and textbooks.

you start to wonder who else lives in this house, but soon the door opens again and chan returns, the sound of voices and music flooding in while the door is open but quickly falling quieter once the door is shut again.

"alright, he'll keep it down. i'm sorry about the noise," he apologizes again, but you wave him off, suddenly feeling shy around him. with him still standing and you still sitting, he towers over you in a way that makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter back to life.

"no, it's fine. really, it's not that big of a deal," you rush, trying to ignore the growing feeling in your chest. was he always this hot? for the first time tonight you notice how his blonde hair falls in waves around his face, perfectly framing his soft features.

he shakes his head. "really, i mean it. vernon will make sure it doesn't get out of hand, he’s good at that. i can't exactly give you a quiet evening, but i can give you the best i've got."

you take a deep breath and stand up. you're already way outside of your comfort zone even just coming to this party, but maybe this experience hasn't been all that bad. after all, you got to see chan again, and you got to exchange more than a handful of words with him like you did all the other times you’d met him.

"well… what is the best you've got?" you ask him, and you almost see him raise an eyebrow.

he puts his hands in his back pockets, pausing for a second as he looks at you. "mm, best i've got? probably this room. my room. quietest in the house, and nobody will come in to bother us."

your heart races as you take a small step towards him, standing close to him but still keeping some distance between you.

"so does this mean you're not leaving?" he asks when you don’t say anything, just barely loud enough for you to hear him.

"do you want me to stay?"

he takes a step closer to you. "only if you stay with me."

"do you say that to all the people you bring in here?" your question is joking, but a part of you still worries that he thinks you're just another girl at the party looking for a one night stand. though honestly, you wouldn't even really mind if that's all this was. hell, maybe all the secondhand smoke is getting to your head and clouding your judgement, because hooking up with your neighbor seems like a pretty fantastic idea right now.

"the only time i let people in my room is to let them use my bathroom and to make sure they don't die of alcohol poisoning," he says in a low tone, a little laugh escaping him. "and now, i guess i let my hot neighbor in here, too."

"you think i'm hot?" you ask, taking another small step forward.

he matches your stride, taking one last step towards you so that you're finally standing toe to toe with him. "i'd be an idiot not to."

"but how would you know, if we've only met twice?"

he laughs. "well, you had just moved in. i wasn't gonna hit on you when you hadn't even finished unpacking your furniture yet."

"so you did want to hit on me, then," you say confidently, straightening up a little.

“did i ever say i didn't?” he rests his hands on your hips and gently pulls you towards him, closing the last of the distance between you. his eyes never leave your face, gauging your reaction and looking for any hesitation.

you wrap your arms around him and lean forward, a smile on your lips. "good to know."

he leans in the rest of the way and presses his mouth against yours, and everything else just falls into place. your hands reach up to find his hair, threading your fingers through his blond waves and tugging experimentally, and when he lets out a little noise of pleasure you kiss him harder.

the noise of the party fades into the background as his hands slide down your body to grip your ass, and you can’t help the little moan that escapes as he starts to back you up against the wall. his hands stay put, kneading your ass as you try to keep your legs from giving out already. it’s painfully obvious how bad you want him, but it’s equally obvious how he feels the same way.

“fuck, been dreaming about this since the day you moved in,” chan says, pulling away from you with a shaky breath as your fingers tug at the hem of his t-shirt. 

he pulls it off over his head before leaning over to kiss you again, his tongue tracing over your lips. he’s good at this; not like you’re surprised by it or anything, but it still catches you off guard.

he seems to be able to sense the tiny bit of lingering hesitancy, so he breaks apart from you but still keeps his arms firmly around you, loosening his grip just a little. “is this okay?” he asks in a low voice, but you can hear the concern laced in it.

you nod quickly, tugging your shirt off quickly and letting his hands settle at your hips before you pull him back closer. you never do this. maybe you really had inhaled too much secondhand smoke on the way in and you aren’t thinking straight. but deep down, you know that’s not the case. 

as much as you hate to admit it, your harmless crush on your neighbor has grown into something much, much more. you can’t say you’ve never been a little jealous when you see girls leaving his house on sunday mornings after parties. you can’t say you’ve never let your eyes linger a few seconds too long when he goes out to check the mail and he’s wearing that tight black tank and thin silver chain he never takes off.

or the fact that he works out in his garage with the door open, and you aren’t really purposefully trying to look but it’s not your fault that your window just happened to be open. and it wasn’t your fault that you just happened to look outside and see him shirtless and bench lifting a very large amount and if you were really really quiet you could almost hear him groaning—

he slides his hands down your bare skin, hesitating again at the waistband of your jeans, but you arch your back a little to push yourself closer and he takes the hint. he easily undoes the button with one hand, and you try not to think about how many times he must’ve practiced that in order to get that skilled at it. but that thought is quickly pushed out of your mind when his hand makes its way into your pants, his fingers experimentally sliding down past your underwear and brushing through your folds.

you let out a groan, rolling your hips into his hand encouragingly. you’re already hot and sweaty, standing with your back against the door in just your bra and jeans, but it’s hard to tell if the heat is from the crowded, stuffy house or from something else.

“god, you’re so wet,” he murmurs under his breath almost incredulously as he presses his fingertip against your clit, circling the swollen bud before dipping back down to collect your arousal on his fingers.

you squeeze your thighs together out of instinct, trapping his hand between your legs, and he looks up at you for confirmation. “more,” you whimper, just loud enough to be heard over the music and the noise on the other side of the door. “chan, please.”

he groans and puts more pressure on your clit, starting to rub a little faster and a little messier. he slides his middle and index fingers inside and you let out an involuntary yelp, clenching and bucking your hips in search of more friction. he starts out slow, curling his fingers in a beckoning motion as his other hand massages the bare skin of your waist.

after more of your pleading he finally concedes, sliding his fingers out and wiping them on his stomach, leaving a glistening trail of wetness on his tan skin. he glances back up at you in questioning, but he finds no hesitation in your expression as his hands start to push your pants down your legs and you kick them away, leaving you bare in front of him.

“you sure you're ready?” he pauses to ask one more time, but your quick nod has him jumping back into action in seconds.

he follows hurriedly, stripping out of his pants and shoving his boxers down to free his cock. his length springs up and slaps against his stomach, the tip looking flushed and heavy, and your mind goes blank, replaced only with the thought of him inside you. he holds himself in one hand, lining his cock up at your entrance as you adjust your position in preparation.

you groan as he finally ushes into you, your fingernails digging into the back of his shoulder blades as you struggle to balance.

“feels good?” he mumbles as he lifts your thigh, wrapping your leg securely around his hip. he doesn't move yet, his hips still as he lets you move however you need.

you barely manage to nod in return, keeping your hands firmly planted on his shoulders, slowly but surely adjusting to his size. “god, yes,” you manage, trying to keep your breathing steady. “if i'd have known you felt this good i would've come over way sooner.”

“mm, well. you're welcome over here any time.” he grins at you. his dark eyes get hazier with desire as he holds you firmly against his pelvis. “for any reason you'd like.”

the best response you can come up with is “sure”, barely listening as you start to roll your hips, but you can tell the sincerity in his statement. your attempt at movement doesn't work very well in this position, but chan quickly takes the hint, pulling back and letting his cock slip halfway out before he drives back into you.

the first thrust has you seeing stars already, and you let out a broken moan as he starts to build up his pace. your back slides against the wall as you feel the bass reverberating through your bones, and it only enhances the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls.

“if there weren’t so many people in this house, i’d have you screaming my name right now,” chan huffs against your lips, pulling your body closer and wrapping his arms around you tighter.

“mm, but the music is so loud they probably wouldn’t be able to hear it anyway,” you bite back with a brazen smile. you're feeling bold, the party atmosphere filling you with a cockiness that you don't usually possess. but something about the environment, the fact that you're fucking the hottest person here while hundreds of people rave obliviously outside the door, is a thrill you've never felt before.

he rolls his head back with a groan, and you feel his thrusts suddenly getting harder and deeper. you have to fight to stay standing, using all your energy to keep yourself upright and leaning most of your weight on him, but if he notices it he doesn't let it show. all those push-ups and bench presses that you ogle him doing in his garage must be good for something, from the way he hoists you against the wall and drives his cock into you without even barely breaking a sweat.

“say it, then,” he goads, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh as he holds your leg up. “you want to, don't you? you wouldn't have come over here tonight if you didn't.”

the worst part is that you know he's right. your own curiosity is what brought you here tonight, masked by the claims of noise complaints. the noise isn't even really that much of a bother: you could've gone to bed, turned on your fan and played some white noise, and you would've been perfectly fine. but some part of you longs to know what goes on at these parties, to see your devastatingly sexy neighbor in this setting you've never witnessed him in yet. so now that your curiosity has been satisfied, you really have nothing to lose.

“chan! fuck— mmph, yes—” you whine loudly, unintentionally clenching around him as the words fall from your lips. there's no way anyone would hear over the music, and even if they did, there's a high chance they wouldn't care either way. it's just what happens at parties.

his eyes light up at the sound, a moan of his own leaving his mouth as he thrusts into you over and over again, burying his cock as deep as he can go with every stroke. a familiar heat burns in the pit of your stomach at his movements, winding tighter and tighter with each passing second. your walls throb around his length, filling every inch of you until you can't take it anymore.

“chan…” you groan again, pulling him towards you with your leg around his waist. “please, keep going… c-close, i'm close—”

he leans in and presses his lips to yours, swallowing your moans with his eager mouth. “god, please cum for me,” he says breathlessly, pulling away but leaving just enough room for your lips to stay connected by a thin string of spit. “need to feel it, need to feel you. please, baby, fuck…”

he slams into you even harder, driving his cock right up into the spot that makes your knees nearly buckle. you manage to whimper out his name one last time before your lips go slack against his mouth, your eyes squeezing shut as you crash into your climax. the force of his steady, constant thrusts combined with the force of your orgasm leaves your body tingling, every nerve alight from the waves of pleasure pulsing through you.

his movements don't ever slow, but you can see the emotion twisting in his face in reaction as he watches you cum, squeezing around him so warm and wet and perfect that it takes every ounce of his self control not to immediately follow you over the edge.

his eyes bore into yours, watching your face until he's sure you've recovered enough to handle him. he pulls out and keeps his hand firmly wrapped around the base of his cock, jerking himself with tiny flicks of his wrist to keep the momentum going.

immediately you drop to your knees in front of him, tilting your head back to stare up at him between his thighs, your eyes wordlessly pleading with him as your tongue nearly rolls out of your mouth.

“fuck, you're so…,” he groans, keeping his fist tight around his cock with a few final motions. “you're so fucking hot, god, i'm gonna—”

he whines and his hips buck as he spills across your face, thick white ropes landing on your tongue and your cheeks. your smaller hand reaches up to replace his and you take him into your mouth, gagging only slightly as the salty taste fills your mouth. you wrap your lips around him and swallow, letting your tongue swirl around his sensitive head to collect it all until he's finished.

he pulls back and his cock slips from your mouth, leaving you gasping and licking your lips to catch the stray drops of his cum. his voice is low and strained as he reaches out his hand to help you up, his thick biceps flexing as he pulls you to your feet. despite the blissed-out look on his face you can see the guilt in eyes and it makes you pause, wondering if he didn't enjoy it the same way you just did. but it's only another moment before he speaks again, and your short-lived worries are put to rest.

“i'm sorry it was so fast,” he says almost shyly, pulling you over to sit at the edge of his bed. “i can go again if you aren't done yet. or we can do something else… or i could walk you back home. whatever you want, i'm happy to do.”

you expression softens into a grin, still a little hazy but definitely not finished. “oh, i can go again, for sure. i've got all night if you'll let me.”

his eyes crinkle with an eager smile, and you're already spreading your legs to give him space as he falls down onto the bed between them, landing on top of you. his hand cups your chin ans he pulls you into him, his lips finding yours and melting into you with a satisfied hum. his tongue finds its place once again in your mouth, prodding inside as he kisses you with a level of passion and desperation you haven't felt in a long time. 

he groans into the kiss as he tastes himself on your lips, exploring your mouth and the bitter taste he left inside. you feel the vibrations from it in your jaw and down your neck, and it only makes you kiss him harder in an effort to draw out more of those pretty sounds.

"hey, dino, didn't you say you'd bring me a beer? it's so boring standing out there—"

the door opens and you jerk away with a scream, hiding yourself under chan and using the nearest piece of clothing to cover up as someone barges into the room.

"cheol, get the fuck out!" chan shouts, wrapping his arm around you and keeping you pressed tightly against his chest, using his back to shield you from view. "fucking knock next time, dude, you know better!"

"jeez! how should i have known? i thought you said you didn't hook up at parties," cheol mutters as he turns around, slamming the door shut behind him. "i'll get the damn beer myself."

the door slams shut once again, and chan sighs and hangs his head, his forehead leaning against your chest before he reluctantly crawls off of you and crosses the room to lock the door.

“you don’t hook up at parties, huh?”

he turns around to look at you, and you pause to take him in. his hair is messier than it was when you got here, glued to his forehead with sweat and sticking up at odd angles from you tugging on it. his broad chest is tinged red with tiny scratches from your nails, and it makes you want to bite him all over, but you contain yourself for now.

your voice is teasing, but cheol’s words have honestly made you feel a million times lighter. you hadn’t expected to be anything special to chan after tonight; at the very least, you hoped that it wouldn’t be awkward when you see each other, but you’d figured you were just the next in a long line of girls waiting to have their turn with him. for once, you’d never been so happy to be proven wrong.

“i’ll make an exception for the pretty neighbor girl. just this once.”

“oh, so now i'm just pretty. i thought i remembered you saying that i was the hot neighbor girl,” you giggle, watching as he hops on one leg to put his boxers back on.

“two things can be true at once,” he says with a grin as he walks back over to you still lying on his bed. “besides, i still haven't taken you out on a date yet. would be kinda forward of me to call you hot when i haven't even bought you dinner yet.”

you smile at him, trying to fight the warmth burning in your cheeks as you reach up to ruffle your fingers through his soft hair. he lets out a satisfied groan at the feeling, and it gives you an idea.

“do…” you trail off, suddenly unsure, until you see the warmth in chan’s eyes as he lays on top of you and it fills you with confidence again. “do you wanna continue this at my house? i’ve got the quietest room, and nobody will bother us.”

“mm.” he grins at the way you repeat his words from earlier, enamored with your shy yet playful tone. “if we’re at your place, does that mean i get to give you the noise complaint this time?”

“i’ll allow it.” you roll your eyes and pull yourself to sit up. “i need a shower, and i’m sure you would like one, too. plus i have food that hasn't been spilled on the floor or soaked in alcohol.”

he picks your shirt up off the floor and hands it to you with a smile, moving around his room with a quiet confidence you find unbearably hot. “does this mean anything to you, or is this just a tonight thing?” he asks.

you bite at your lip as you shimmy back into your jeans, shaky fingers sliding the button into place as you sit back down on the bed. “it does,” you reply simply. “you did tell me you'd buy me dinner, after all. i'm gonna hold you to that.”

he leans over you, pressing another chaste kiss to your lips. “and i plan on keeping that promise.”

you stumble your way through the house, squeezing chan’s hand tightly as he pulls you up the stairs, following him towards the door. you're not worried about anyone noticing you anymore: everyone's too wrapped up in their own business to care, including you. the party seems dulled now, the music fading and the people around you becoming blank faces. all you care about is chan, your eyes roving over his broad back muscles that peek through his shirt as you trail behind him. you must look no different than every other drunk college kid here with the giddy smile on your face, but you haven't had a drop of alcohol. it's just the effect he had on you.

finally you make it outside, and the cool night air feels sharp compared to the humidity inside the house. already it seems quieter as you start to walk the distance across the street, moving away from the party and towards the comfort of your own home. chan moves up beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist while you lead the way, but you're stopped once again by the same man from earlier.

“hey,” he greets chan, only sparing half a smirk in your direction but otherwise not bothering you, despite the heat that instantly rises in your cheeks at the fact that you were caught. “did you get my beer?”

“no. you said you were getting it yourself.” he rolls his eyes, and cheol whines and gives him a look that you swear almost looks like a pout. “if anyone asks about me, tell them i'm not home. tell them i had to…” he looks over at you with a cocky grin. “…had to go take care of something. noise complaint.”

cheol groans, making a face. “god, whatever. i don't want the details. but just don't make me stand outside next time. i'm doing you a favor here. i'm supposed to be working on my thesis.”

“sure,” chan replies, but he's still stuck staring at you, barely processing his friend's complaints. “yeah. anyway, i'll catch you tomorrow.”

he tugs gently on your waist and you start walking again, leaving cheol without so much as a goodbye or even a proper introduction. you'll deal with that later, you guess. there’s a lot of things you'll have to deal with, but at least the wild parties your neighbor boyfriend throws won't be one of them anymore.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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[howcouldmuffin]

Suits Me.

With your sister wed, the realization dawns—you are next. Thus, you begin seeking what truly befits you.

PAIRING : Gwayne Hightower x Fem!Reader

WARNING : KISS, Non-canon

AN : I’ve always thought of Gwayne as my ideal gentleman. I hope you enjoy this piece of writing. Love.

please be kind to me English is not my first language.

“I desire a man of a composed nature, one who is not quick to anger.” you declared, your voice steady yet tinged with a hint of yearning. You were describing the ideal qualities of a husband to the person who shared the room with you, a figure whose attention seemed divided—though it was hard to tell if he was more captivated by your words or by the enchanting presence of the young woman who occupied his thoughts.

Your acquaintance with Sir Gwayne had begun rather serendipitously at your father’s most recent nuptials. He had attended in honor of his sister’s marriage, a grand affair where the echoes of laughter mingled with the clinking of goblets and the rustle of silk. It was on the secluded balcony, away from the festivities, that your paths first truly crossed. You, seeking solitude from the overwhelming company, had stumbled upon him, a knight known more for his quiet presence than for any overt display of gallantry. Initially, suspicion had flickered in your mind—was his interest in you born of some hidden agenda? But as the days passed, such thoughts faded into insignificance, replaced by a growing sense of familiarity.

“I see no reason for you to rush into choosing a suitor.” he remarked after a long stretch of contemplative silence, his voice calm yet carrying the weight of unspoken thoughts. His words caused you to pause, turning your gaze toward him as you rose from the sofa where you had been languidly reclined in the sanctuary of the library.

“I am not rushing.” you replied, your tone defensive but with a hint of introspection. “I am merely exercising prudence, weighing my options with care.”

“You are a princess.” he said, his voice soft yet firm, “and with that title comes the liberty to court whomever you wish. For now, would it not be wiser to savor the delights of youth? There is time yet for the bonds of matrimony.”

“Why do you persist in this notion that I should delay my marriage?” you inquired, a trace of exasperation slipping into your voice. “Surely, you do not speak from experience. Or perhaps.” you added, your eyes narrowing as a thought occurred to you, “you have never been married yourself?”

“And why would you assume that?” he countered, his surprise evident. With measured steps, you approached him, a new idea taking root in your mind. If you were to assist him in finding a suitable wife, perhaps it would broaden your own circle of acquaintance, and in turn, increase your chances of meeting a gentleman who might suit you.

“Perhaps you should consider marriage yourself.” you suggested, your voice taking on a tone of playful challenge. “Surely, there is a woman out there who could capture your heart.”

“That, I cannot entertain.” he replied, standing abruptly and distancing himself from you, his expression resolute, yet clouded with a faint shadow of unease.

“Since the day I met you, I have never known you to be attached to any woman.” you continued, undeterred. “Though you claim to have had lovers, I suspect such affairs occurred far from these walls. Perhaps helping you secure a match would aid me in finding a fiancé as well.”

“Princess.” he began, a note of reluctance in his voice, “I have no intentions of marrying anytime soon, for my heart is already given.”

“To whom?” you asked, the question slipping from your lips before you could restrain it.

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I am not yet ready to divulge that secret, but I promise you, when the time is right, you will be the first to know.”

“Do I know her?” you pressed, curiosity now fully piqued.

“Indeed.” he replied, his voice tight, “you know her exceedingly well.”

“Then you must tell me!” you urged, stepping closer, your voice now filled with genuine concern. “How else can I assist you? If you do not act swiftly, another might claim her hand, and you would be left to mourn what could have been.”

“True.” he conceded, his lips curving into a faint smile, though it did not reach his eyes. “She is admired by many, but I believe no one could be a better match for her than I.”

“Who could challenge you?” you teased lightly. “You are the son of Otto, Hand of the King, a knight of great renown, brother to the Queen herself. You could have any lady you desire, perhaps even… me.”

“Ah, but what of her heart?” he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper as he stepped closer still, his eyes locking with yours. “Guard your affections, Princess. Do not let them stray before I have a chance to make my claim.”

His nearness sent a jolt through you, your heart pounding in a way that was both exhilarating and unsettling. True, he was a man of striking appearance, his features carved as if by the hand of a master sculptor, but until this moment, the thought of him as your potential husband had never crossed your mind. Yet, his words carried an implication that left you breathless.

“Then I shall wish her well.” you murmured, your voice barely audible as you averted your gaze, the sudden rush of emotions overwhelming. “May she remain unattached until you are ready to speak your mind.”

With that, you turned away, retreating to the safety of the sofa, though the book you picked up could do little to quiet the turmoil within. Your heart rebelled against the calm you tried to project.

“I must take my leave now, Princess.” he said softly, the formal tone returning to his voice.

You nodded, unable to lift your eyes to meet his, a warm flush spreading across your cheeks. It was not often that you found yourself flustered in the presence of a man, especially one who was so highly sought after by others. You had often admired him from afar, and in truth, he would make a most suitable match. But it seemed fate had other plans, for his heart was already spoken for. And as for yours—well, that remained to be seen.

“Smile a bit, Sir Gwayne. The children are watching.” you whispered softly to him as he demonstrated the basic weapons of a knight, a spectacle meant to both instruct and inspire the eager young minds gathered around.

“I only came with you because you said your usual knight was unavailable.” he murmured through gritted teeth, ensuring his words reached no ears but yours. Yet, despite his reluctance, he obliged the children’s requests with a weary smile that, though tinged with exasperation, made you stifle a laugh.

“Consider it a favor to me.” you replied with a playful lilt. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

After the day’s visit to the townsfolk concluded, you returned to your chambers, where you indulged in a long, warm bath, washing away the dust and the fatigue of the day. You dressed anew, choosing a gown of soft gold, simple yet elegant, and arranged your hair with modest care. Just as you were about to step out to join your family for the evening meal, you found someone already waiting outside your door.

“You should have knocked. You could have waited inside my room.” you said as you closed the door behind you. “Are you here to claim the favor I owe you?”

“No.” he replied, his tone even. “The Queen sent me to fetch you. It seems you’re running a bit late.”

“In that case, we should hurry.”

You took the lead as you walked down the corridor, your footsteps echoing lightly against the stone floor. Though he was not originally meant to join the family at dinner, your father, ever the gracious host, had extended an invitation when he saw an empty seat beside you. It was a small surprise, but a welcome one—you would have a chance to speak with him more about the day’s events.

The meal progressed smoothly, with conversation flowing freely around the table. As was his custom, Sir Gwayne offered to escort you back to your chambers once the evening had drawn to a close, just as he had done on other nights following shared meals or court gatherings. Despite the growing rumors circulating about the two of you, you paid them little mind, though you couldn’t help but worry that they might affect the woman Gwayne held in his heart.

“Perhaps we should keep more distance from each other.” you said quietly as you walked the familiar path back to your room.

“Why?” he asked, his curiosity piqued. “Is there someone you’ve set your heart on?”

“No, nothing like that” you replied, shaking your head. “But the rumors about us are becoming more frequent, and I don’t think it bodes well for either of us.” He looked at you, confusion etched across his face. “If I were in love with someone, I wouldn’t want him to be linked to another woman through idle gossip.”

To your surprise, he chuckled. “So, you’re concerned about me, then?”

You nodded, feeling a flush of embarrassment rise in your cheeks. Your heart betrayed you once more, beating far too quickly for your liking. Without thinking, you quickened your pace, desperate to hide the warmth spreading across your face. Noticing this, Gwayne lengthened his strides to match yours.

“I don’t pay any mind to those rumors.” he said, his tone casual. “But I suppose it would be unseemly for our Princess to be the subject of such talk, especially if it involves me.” His words left you with a strange sense of disappointment, though you could not quite understand why. A slight irritation flared within you, unbidden and unexplained.

“I’m not concerned about it at all.” you answered dismissively, brushing off his comment as you reached your door. “Goodnight.” you added curtly, before stepping inside and closing the door behind you, leaving him to stand, perplexed, outside your chamber.

In the grand ballroom, with its resplendent chandeliers casting a warm, golden light, you found yourself entwined in a dance with Lord Cedric. His conversation, though amiable and courteous, failed to hold your full attention. Your gaze kept drifting toward Sir Gwayne, who, amidst a throng of eager admirers, was the center of attention. His presence, commanding and dignified, was accentuated by the swarm of women vying for his favor.

“Princess… Princess.” Lord Cedric’s voice, tinged with concern, reached you, rousing you from your daydream.

“My apologies, Lord Cedric.” you said with a slight blush, your voice betraying an edge of fatigue. “I have grown rather weary this evening and must take my leave.”

You disengaged from the dance and, with purposeful strides, sought refuge at the nearest table, where a decanter of wine awaited. The crystalline goblet, filled with rich, ruby-red liquid, seemed to beckon you. The wine’s warmth spread through you, a balm to the unrest that you could not quite fathom.

As the wine flowed, so did your inhibitions. The haze of intoxication lent you a boldness that you might not otherwise possess. Lords continued to solicit your company for dances, and you accepted with a newfound abandon. The evening’s merriment, combined with the wine’s effects, made you more flirtatious than usual. Your movements, graceful and deliberate, drew admiring gazes and appreciative murmurs. You felt the hands of various suitors, some daringly touching your waist, others almost reaching for more intimate areas. Each time, you managed to redirect their attention with practiced ease.

“Lord Cedric.” you said, your voice laced with a suggestive lilt as you gripped his broad shoulder, “you truly have a knack for making this evening delightful. I can scarcely imagine how fortunate the woman who wins your hand will be.”

Your eyes locked with his, and you leaned in slightly, allowing his hands to encircle your waist with a languid familiarity. The atmosphere between you was charged, almost palpable.

But just as the moment seemed to reach its zenith, Sir Gwayne appeared, a determined look on his face. He grasped your wrist with a firm yet gentle hold, guiding you away from the revelry. His stride was brisk, forcing you to keep pace, and you found yourself pleading for him to slow down.

Upon reaching a quieter, more secluded corridor, he finally halted. You steadied yourself, the wine’s effects making your head spin and your heart race.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, his voice low but intense. “You’re behaving like a courtesan in a disreputable establishment.”

“Whatever are you talking about?” you replied, a mix of confusion and indignation coloring your voice. “I am merely enjoying myself.”

“That Lord was on the brink of kissing you!” he exclaimed, his frustration evident. “Do you not realize how forward he was? How could you permit such liberties?”

“It is merely the way of dancing.” you said, though his words stung more than you cared to admit. “You are overreacting.”

“But you are a Princess.” he said, his voice softening but still firm. “It is unbecoming of you to act so… freely. Do you understand?”

You nodded, feeling a tinge of remorse as his anger seemed to dissipate. Despite the tumult of emotions swirling within you, you did not wish to return to the ball. Instead, you expressed your desire to retire to your chamber. With no choice but to carry you, Sir Gwayne lifted you with a tenderness that belied his earlier agitation.

In the solitude of your room, he placed you gently on the bed. He meticulously arranged the blankets, ensuring your comfort as he tucked them around you. As he adjusted the cover over your chest, you reached out and took his hand, your touch lingering.

The proximity between you was electric, and the tension between you both was almost tangible. With a deep breath, you lifted your face to his and pressed your lips against his. The kiss, initially hesitant, soon grew into a tender exchange of passion and longing. However, as you began to regain your clarity, you pulled away, a mixture of regret and yearning in your eyes.

Sir Gwayne, his expression one of profound turmoil, rose swiftly from the bed. “I am deeply sorry, Your Highness. Please forgive me.” he stammered, his voice a strained whisper. Without waiting for a response, he fled the room, leaving you alone amidst a swirl of conflicting emotions.

As you lay there, the weight of what had transpired settled heavily upon you. The room seemed colder now, the remnants of your emotional turmoil hanging in the air. Your heart ached with a mix of sorrow and unspoken affection, knowing that this moment, however fleeting, had altered everything between you.

The air is thick with scandalous whispers, each rumor more outrageous than the last. Tales circulate of him entering your chamber under the cover of night, while you, bereft of clarity due to your inebriation and unattended by your maidens, were left exposed to gossip and innuendo. The degradation of his reputation and your own only compounds your deepening sense of remorse.

A maid enters your chamber with a solemn expression, announcing, “His Majesty requests your presence, Your Highness.”

You nod, masking your trepidation with a veneer of composure. “I shall go.” you reply.

As you traverse the grand corridors toward the royal study, your heart beats with an uneasy rhythm. The room before you, adorned with opulent tapestries and the grandeur befitting the royal court, now feels stifling. Your father, seated at his imposing desk, appears stern and unyielding, while Gwayne, standing by the window, avoids your gaze with a palpable discomfort.

The air is thick with tension as your father begins, his voice laden with disapproval. “There have been alarming rumors regarding Sir Gwayne. Pray, elucidate what has transpired.”

You turn to Gwayne, his demeanor averted, his countenance a study in restraint. “I.. well, Sir Gwayne was merely kind enough to escort me to my chamber after I became somewhat indisposed due to excessive libations—”

“Is that so?” your father interrupts, his voice rising. He slams his palm on the desk with a force that echoes through the room. “You allowed a gentleman, not of the King’s Guard, to carry you in such a state? What of my honor? What of the propriety expected of a princess?”

Viserys collapses into his high-backed chair, his hand pressed to his forehead in exasperation. The grand room, with its rich wood paneling and gilded accents, seems to close in around you.

Otto, ever the pragmatist, interjects with a stern resolve, “I believe we must act swiftly, Your Majesty. A marriage between the princess and Sir Gwayne should be arranged without delay.”

The very thought of such an arrangement sends a shiver down your spine. You are acutely aware of Gwayne’s likely opposition to this forced union.

“He only helped me to my room.” you argue, your voice a blend of desperation and defiance. “Nothing untoward occurred. If we proceed with this marriage, it will only serve to validate the most nefarious rumors.”

“Enough!” Your father’s voice booms, cutting through the air with finality. “Return to your quarters and prepare yourself for what is to come.”

Overwhelmed by a torrent of emotions, you steal a final glance at Gwayne, who stands with a look of profound disappointment. The realization that you have brought shame upon him, as well as upon yourself, weighs heavily upon you. You hasten from the study, tears streaming freely, unable to meet his eyes.

“Wait!” Gwayne’s voice rings out, halting you in your tracks. You turn slowly, your face streaked with the evidence of your sorrow.

“I… I am deeply sorry,” you manage to stammer, your voice quaking with emotion. “I am truly, truly sorry.”

His gaze softens, a mix of bewilderment and tenderness in his eyes. “What is it that you are apologizing for?”

“I..I made you marry me instead of the one you truly love.” you stammer, tears continuing to flow down your cheeks.

“Oh, my dearest.” Gwayne murmurs softly, gently wiping away your tears with his calloused fingers. His touch is tender, almost reverent, as he lifts your tear-streaked face to meet his gaze. “The one I love is you.”

His confession leaves you momentarily stunned, the enormity of his words sinking in with a gradual, dawning clarity. Your heart races as you begin to piece together the puzzle of his actions. The hesitation to accept a forced marriage, his repeated offers to escort you to your chambers, the lingering kisses on your hand, and the intense, unwavering glances—all of it now falls into place. He had never been indifferent; rather, he had been hiding his true feelings, perhaps out of a sense of duty or a fear of scandal.

A wave of realization washes over you, and with trembling lips, you respond, “I love you too. No one is more suited to me than you, Sir Gwayne.”

His eyes, filled with a blend of relief and profound emotion, search yours. The air between you seems to shimmer with unspoken promises and the weight of unvoiced sentiments. He pulls you close, his arms encircling you with a warmth that speaks of earnest affection and unwavering devotion. For a moment, the world outside fades into insignificance, leaving only the two of you in your shared understanding.

As he holds you, the reality of your feelings and his becomes undeniable. The burdens of misunderstanding and the weight of societal expectations dissolve, giving way to a future you both secretly yearned for. The tumultuous emotions of the past days seem to settle into a quiet resolve as you both embrace the newfound truth of your hearts.

[beforeimdeceased]

ENTANGLED IN YOU— WHEN WILL MY LIFE BEGIN?

ways to help, daily click, do not support neil

ellie williams x reader

a/n: this actually isn’t the best but i’ll post it now and edit it later :D let me know what you think

tags: @astralnymphh

masterlist

…

once upon a time there was a beautiful princess who lived a castle…

okay maybe it was an abandoned apartment complex, and maybe she wasn’t a princess, but that isn’t the point of our story. our story focuses on how fate is inescapable.

“flower! let me up.” the doctor calls. you look outside of your broken bedroom window and quickly rush to the main room where there is a lever. you then, twist it with all your might. this triggers a series of reactions going downward which opens a space in the wall for the doctor to walk up.

this was a daily routine. doctor would go out and forage for supplies and food while you tidied up your “tower” as you called it. it wasn’t much but it was home and helped protect you from the outside world.

many years ago an outbreak occurred causing a sickness in the people of the world. doctor says it was terrifying to see. disfigured faces as a parasitic virus took over their minds.

but you were special.

you were born a few years later in a hospital doctor had been working in at the time. your mother had been seeing doctor for months and she was finally ready to deliver you. then suddenly, there was a break in. the infected monsters stormed through and bit your mother as you were being born. in a panic, doctor wrapped you up, ran as fast as she could until she found this abandoned building, and promised to always keep you safe.

she waited to see if the affects of the bite were passed onto you, and gratefully reveled in the fact that they did not. she still continued to watch you carefully. just in case. then, one day while cleaning up, she turned her head for a moment and you’d been scratched by an infected that had found its way inside the building.

you wailed and so did she before she realized that you were not turning. days began to pass and you still hadn’t turned. you were completely fine other than a small scratch on the back of your neck.

doctor rapidly got to work. after running various tests she used your blood to create a cure. it’s temporary against the infection, but it helps keep it from doing extensive damage. it gave those who were previously hopeless a reason to be hopeful.

she was excited about the results and prepared to share them with the world.

once she’d gotten in touch with the others in her field, they said in order to make a viable cure for everyone you would have to die, which she did not agree with.

so she rushed back to the tower, closed the doors, and swore to never let you leave out of fear that others would hurt you. even after you’d grown older. even after a cure had been fashioned years later from a mystery flower. even after the apocalypse had been declared over and it was semi safe to leave again. you would never leave. and she was confident that you’d never try to, until…

“are you excited for you birthday tomorrow, flower?” doctor asks as she walks into the lounge area. you were sat in the corner knitting a scarf out of yarn you’d fashioned from leaves. “i am actually. i’m more excited about the possibility of-“

“leaving to see the festival?” she finishes your sentence. you huff. “doctor, please. i look outside of my window and i see people laughing and lights shining just down the mountain. i know that a settlement is out there. have you still not checked it out?”

“no i haven’t checked it out and i’m not going to. i told you it’s probably fires started to control a large population of infected.” her tone is stern. she has checked already, it is a settlement.

you slump down in a chair next to her, hands clasped together. bottom lip sticking out. “please. please! atleast promise you’ll check on your next trip.”

she looks over at your face and smiles. “fine. we’re running out of supplies anyway. i’ll check on my trip tommorow, would that make you happy?”

“very.” you respond, smiling.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

a loud clanking is heard from underneath the tower followed by a string of curses. “doctor?” you call out. your heart begins to race. what if she’s hurt again and she needs help? or more of the cure? you quickly turn the knob and listen as her footsteps get closer.

then you hear her speak and it is definitely not doctor. you hide behind the entrance, a frying pan in hand as it was the closest thing to you. you watch as the woman steps up and looks around. breathing heavily with dirt all over her. before she can turn around, you knock her hard on her head.

[munson-blurbs]

Inspired by this TikTok. Thank you to @lesservillain for the idea and to @emsgoodthinkin for brainstorming with me!

Summary: Eddie jumpscares you one too many times, and so you decide to freak him out at work. But who will be more shocked: him, or you?

Warnings: fem!reader, friends-to-lovers, idiots in love, brief description of (fake) gore, joke about throwing up (doesn't actually happen), kissing as a joke (please only kiss w/ consent irl)

WC: 1.3k

It was just a joke. 

A joke that had started when Eddie had barged into your house—the man wouldn’t knock if his life depended on it—and proudly announced, “I got the job!”

The job in question was a haunted house performer at Hawkins’ annual Fall Festival. You’d both been going since you were kids, and his favorite part had always been the haunted house. 

He’d gotten word about his new job in early September. By mid-October, you’re fully sick and tired of his antics. 

“Boo!” he’d yelled as he jumped out from behind the Wheeler’s couch, making you leap out of your seat. 

“Raaahhh!” he’d growled in your ear while you were in the midst of a conversation with Robin, and once your heartbeat returned to normal, you flipped him off. 

His enthusiastic “Gotcha!” during your history quiz was the final straw. You’d yelped, actually shrieked in the middle of class, clapping a hand over your mouth as Mrs. Click glared at you. 

“I’m gonna get you back for that,” you’d hissed once you’d turned in your exam, growing more irritated when he’d just shook his head. 

“You can’t scare me,” he retorted with a smirk, leaning up against a locker. “You’ve never been able to freak me out, and you never will. Don’t even try, little girl.”

Challenge accepted. 

You spend the rest of the week wracking your brain for ideas. What is Eddie Munson afraid of? What will shock him?

The obvious answer is hiding a prized possession and making him think it was stolen or lost. You grin to yourself as you picture him frantically searching for Sweetheart; maybe you could leave a ransom note of sorts. 

But that plan has too many moving pieces, so you scrap it. You’re about to give up entirely when Robin inadvertently gives you an idea. 

“You guys coming to Steve’s party tomorrow?” she asks in between bites of her turkey sandwich. 

“I’m down,” you eagerly agree, itching to have a night out with friends. 

When Robin turns to Eddie, he shakes his head. “Gotta work,” he reminds her, wiggling his fingers to emphasize the spooky nature of his job. 

Robin rolls her eyes. “Fine, okay. Stop by after. I promise we won’t make you play spin the bottle again.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, cheeks redden, and he gets up from the lunch table without another word. 

Bingo. 

The plan is set: on Friday, before Steve’s party, you’ll pay Eddie a visit at the Fall Festival. It’ll be a visit he’ll never forget, you’re sure of that. 

Robin stands with you outside the haunted house, picking at a funnel cake with powdered sugar-coated fingers. “I’ll wait out here,” she promises, “but when you’re done, I wanna hear everything. Especially the look on his face.”

“You got it.” You shoot her a thumb’s up as you jog up to the bored-looking attendant taking tickets. 

You’re in. 

The first room just sets the tone. Eerie organ music pulses through an ancient sound system, and a fog machine creates a steam that prevents you from seeing the floor. Cobwebs hang in the corners of the ceiling, though you’re suspicious that they’re not intentional decorations. 

Eddie’s not in the next room, either; just a woman wearing a blood-spattered wedding dress, wielding a knife and clutching a plastic severed head. She’s screaming something about, “teaching him not to cheat with a bridesmaid,” and looks vaguely annoyed that you’re not quaking with terror. 

You go through three more rooms, getting increasingly irritating with the lack of Eddie in each one. He’s working tonight, so he has to be here—

Loud, stomping footsteps follow you into the dungeon-themed section of the house, and your heart skips a beat as you lay eyes on him. A distorted mask covers his face, but his unruly curls give him away despite the mad scientist costume he’s donning. He holds up a knife and creeps closer, a low growl emanating from his throat. You run until you no longer can, and he easily traps you, the cold metal gate pressing into your back. 

If you’re going to do it, now’s your chance. 

In one swift motion, you turn him so he’s backed up into the gate. A soft, confused “wha—?” leaves his lips as you lift his mask and lean in before you lose your nerve. Your lips press against his; hands on his cheeks as he accepts the way you melt into him.

Why isn’t he pulling away? Why isn’t he laughing and appreciating your prank? Why does it seem like he wants this…like he’s BEEN wanting this?

Fuck. Fuck. 

This isn’t what you were expecting. He’s kissing you back, surprised but hungry, and you’re the one who ends up breaking away. 

Before he can begin to question what’s happening, you dash out of the room. No. No, no, no. Your head spins as you attempt to process the emotions pulsing through your veins. 

It was supposed to be a way of getting him back for his unwavering desire to scare you. Show him what it’s like to be the one on the other side of the joke. Because that’s all it was; a joke. 

So why do you want to kiss him again?

Fresh air hits you like a slap in the face, and once you find Robin, you cling to her like a lifeline. 

“We have to go,” you mumble, dragging her to the exit and refusing to make eye contact. 

“Whoa, what happened?” When you refuse to answer, she sighs but doesn’t relent. “C’mon, did he, like, throw up or something?”

You shake your head. “I think he liked it.”

“Of course he did,” she says with a laugh, “the guy’s in love with you.” She nudges your hip with her own. “Toldja he would lose his shit.”

Your mouth goes dry. “Robs…when I said that I wanted him to ‘freak out,’ what did you think I meant?”

Robin crinkles her nose. “Um, that the Dingus-ette—that’s you—and her doting Dingus were finally going to admit that they have big, stupid crushes on each other?” Her expression falters when you stop in your tracks. “What did you mean?”

“I wanted,” you start, swallowing hard like a gob of peanut butter is stuck to the roof of your mouth, “I wanted to get him back for scaring me. I wanted to freak him out.”

“Mission accomplished.”

She’s no longer looking at you when she speaks, and you follow her gaze to where Eddie’s shuffling over to you. You want to beg her to stay, but she just squeezes your hand in a silent good luck. 

“Hi.” Eddie’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet. “Can we talk?”

You can only nod in response. His mask is atop his mess of curls, and you can see the longing in his eyes. How have you never noticed it before? How did you not notice the need within yourself?

“Actually, I’m lying. I don’t want to talk.” With that, his arms pull you into him, torsos pressed together, and he’s kissing you. It’s like a missing link in a chain you hadn’t realized was broken, and you allow your hands to drape over his shoulders. You can feel him trembling slightly as he deepens the kiss. 

“You okay?” you murmur against his lips. 

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” he answers, ducking his head behind his curtain of hair. “Guess ‘m just a little freaked out that this is really happening.”

A smile twitches at the corners of your mouth, and you lace your fingers with his. 

“Good.”

--

[r0ttenhearts]

I saw you're taking req, hmm I wanted some angst like neglected reader & diluc or kaveh, the story or plot is up to you 🥹🥹

look at me

diluc x reader

warnings: mean diluc, one sided relationship, arguments, angst

another night you found yourself alone in bed, the book you had been reading laid open on the spot that belonged to diluc, or used to. longer nights seemed to be often now, staying up for him. not like he cared for your presence anyway. only giving you a glance when he’d get in bed, facing away from you.

the cold feeling of the sheets on your skin no longer warmed your heart, trying to grasp at the scent of him on his pillow. it was like loving a ghost. if you could even call it a relationship anymore.

dates and anniversaries had been forgotten about for months now, empty promises he’d give you before stopping completely. never giving you anything to hope for. that’s what you believed on your birthday, leaving you alone that night. a thickly frosted cake sitting in front of you, tears in your eyes with his maids somber smiles as you blew out your candles.

you still held hope in your heart, hope that things would go back to how they used to be, to a loving relationship with him. that was until that night. screams and tears being the only thing between you two.

“i’ve told you for the last time, (y/n). i’m busy. can’t you take this up with sucrose or one of your other friends? i don’t have time for this nonsense.” diluc sighed, pressing his thumbs on the bridge of his nose.

“we haven’t done anything together in months, diluc.” you looked at him with hope in your eyes, holding out a flyer for the upcoming windblume festival in mondstat. “we can go to this together! it’ll be like how we used to go to your wine festival’s back in the day, but this time you won’t have to-“

his gloved hand tearing the sheet out of your grasp and ripping it in half silenced your words. you stared at him, wide eyed as he looked to you with the meanest glare he only reserved for kaeya.

“i don’t give a shit to go to some silly festival with you. do you ever wonder why i don’t spend time with you anymore (y/n)? why i’d rather be manning the bar instead of letting my employees do it?” he seethed, getting right in your face as you stood there frozen.

his fiery red hair matched his tone as you felt your love and hope for this relationship slowly wither with every word that came out of his mouth. his piercing eyes not hiding his distaste for you,

“the reason is i simply cannot stand to be here with you. i can’t stand the way you look at me so stupidly. you still believe something is there when i haven’t even looked at you in months.

i don’t love you anymore (y/n). get that through your thick skull. or do you still think i’m kidding? that one day i’ll waltz in here and kiss you like i used to? that i won’t leave you alone here every day with the maids?

nothing will change. i don’t care if you leave me. do what you wish, just stop bothering me.”

he left your shared bedroom with a slam of the door. the glass on your bedside table shaking as silent tears slipped down your cheeks. you were tired. tired of the fighting, tired of him.

the next day you did as he asked, or screamed. with a heavy heart you left his manor, a home you had known for six years. ignoring his lingering stares in the streets of mondstat for the next few months.

every time you’d see him stop and stare at you, you’d shake your head. he didn’t miss you. you couldn’t miss him. nothing was waiting for you back at the winery.

you never knew of the way he’d uncap some of his special wine, sitting at the same table you used to have dinner alone in. gulping down the bitter liquid, he hated every second of it sliding down his throat. but he hated the way he felt without you even more.

the day he told you those words he’d felt nothing but regret. coming home to an empty house solidified that feeling of guilt and pain as he remembered the look on your face as he claimed he no longer felt anything for you. it was a lie. he lied to keep you away, away from his duties to hunt down the fatui. you didn’t know he was the infamous dark night hero, only believing his white lies of being at the bar every night.

oh how cruel could fate be as he watched you move on. you’d refuse to look his way if he stood next to you at a stall, your gaze locked on the merchant. never at him.

eventually your gaze would be locked onto his brother, kaeya. kaeya’s smirk as you held onto his arm made his blood boil. he had taken something else from him. but were you ever his to be taken from?

as he sat on the floor of his cellar, tears in his eyes as he inhaled the smell of grapes and liquids he now found comfort in, he only thought of you.

“hey (y/n).. the windblume festival is coming up soon.. do you want to go together.” he whispered to himself, more hot tears running down his face.

“i didn’t mean what i said that night.. i’ll cut off my own tongue so i never yell at you again.. so please,

promise you won’t go.”

taglist: @samarill @lelemnh

[pitchsidestories]

flowers II Ona Batlle x Lucy Bronze x Reader

a/n: hi, this is purely fiction but we were inspired by Lucy's instagram story at Diada de Sant Jordi, we hope you guys like it. 😊

warnings: mostly fluff, it's only slightly suggestive at the end of the oneshot.

masterlist I word count: 1628

Despite the loss in the champions league half final against Chelsea on saturday, you observed that the atmosphere in the team wasn’t too bad at the start of the training, perhaps because it was Diada de Sant Jordi.

It was one of your favourite festive days of Catalonia as it concluded two of your favourite things next to football which were flowers and books. Plus you were looking forwart to spend some quality time with your two girlfriends Lucy and Ona in the evening.

“Bona Diada de Sant Jordi.”, the woman who was filming the team for social media chirmed while you all were slowly entering the pitch.

“Feliç Sant Jordi“, you wished into the camera smiling, Ona next to you waved silently with a huge grin on her face.

Right behind you two Lucy and Keira passed the media person, the English defender shouted: “Happy Jordie-Day!”

“Jordie-Day?”, Ona asked, rising an eyebrow in question.

“Jordan Nobbs Day?”, the older woman explained laughing.

“Ignore her, Oni. She knows exactly what today is about books, roses, and dragons.”, you winked at her.

“And Jordan.”, Lucy added with a childish smile.

Curiously Mariona turned her head to face you and your girlfriends properly:” Do you three lovebirds have planned something special after training?”

“No, not really, except for dinner tonight. Also, can’t believe they let me do the grocery shopping alone.”, Ona groaned.

“Hey, someone has to take Narla on a walk.”, the older English woman defended herself.

“And Mapi needs my help with book shopping.”, you added, throwing innocent looks at her.  

“Excuses!”, the youngest of the three of you replied.

“We’ll do the cooking and cleaning afterwards I promise.”, you told her in a soothing tone.

“I hope so.”, she nodded satisfied.

“Now that everyone knows what to do after training.”, Lucy begun before picking both of your pairs of football boots and running away from you.

“Lucia!”, Ona and you scolded her.

“What are you waiting for?”, the dark-haired woman questioned you giggling looking more like the little girl she once was instead of the over thirty years old person she was now.

This gave you the chance to catch up with her.  

“We got you.”, Ona cheered as the three of you tumbled to the ground laughing out loud.

“Here are your shoes, Oni.”, you said before you put your own boots on.

“Thanks.”, she muttered, still with a big smile on her lips.

Slowly Lucy got up, padding both of your backs encouragingly:” Come on, girls.”

“Coming.”, you exclaimed excitedly. The weight of the loss on your shoulders felt lighter when you three were able to laugh about silly moments like this.

Right after training, you said goodbye to your girlfriends and met up with the still injured Mapi in a bookshop. The two of you strolled through the shelves, browsing for the perfect books.

Excitedly, you picked out a book and held it up for Mapi: “Have you heard about this one?

Your teammate eyed the book curiously as she took it: “No, is it gay?“

You smirked. Typical Mapi.

You pulled another book from the shelf and handed it to her: “No, but this one is.“

It was a poetry collection by Mary Oliver which Mapi took with an uncertain look on her face.

She flipped through the pages: “Do you think Ingrid would like it?“

“Hm, wait. Here’s one about three women of a family. It’s set in Barcelona and a café plays an important part in it. I feel like that’s more an Ingrid-book, don’t you agree?“, you said as you gave her the third book.

You knew you found the perfect match when you saw Mapis eyes lit up.

She skimmed the blurb of the book and looked at you with a bright smile: “That is so Ingrid!“

“You should gift her that one.“, you suggested happily.

The defender pressed the book to her chest: “Thanks. I know why I asked you to help me with that.“

You could feel your cheeks turn red so you turned back towards the books: “You’re welcome.“

Mapi watched as you picked up the poetry collection again: “Are you getting it for your girls too?“

You nodded as you walked towards the checkout: “Yes, we love to read out loud to each other in the evenings.“

“That’s disgustingly sweet. Didn’t Lucy was into stuff like that.“, Mapi scrunched her nose.

You giggled: “Don’t tell anyone. Lucy wants to make everyone believe that she’s so tough.“

“Promise. I won’t say a word about it.“

“Thank you but Ingrid and you should try that too. It’s very relaxing.“, you suggested.

Mapi only winked at you: “We’re busy doing other stuff.“

“Oh, trust me, we do that too.“, you laughed, knowing full well that your girlfriends were insatiable.

“Oh, I bet you do.“, she smirked.

You tried to switch the topic quickly when you realized that other people might be listening: “Now that we’re done book shopping… Coffee?“

“Please. I need some caffeine!“, Mapi laughed.

“Me too.“, you agreed. But a small flower shop next to the book store caught your attention. They were selling gorgeous bouquets of roses.

“Wait here. I’ll just get those flowers.“, you told Mapi before walking into the shop and reappearing with the wrapped up bouquet just a few minutes later.

“That’s a huge bouquet.“, the defender commented, watching you carry the unwieldy package.

“It’s beautiful though, right?”, you said, looking almost as admiring at the pretty flowers like you usually did at your girlfriends.

“Very.”, Mapi admitted before she pulled you into the direction to the café, the smell of fresh coffee beans already promised a delicious coffee and a fun chat about everything and nothing.

Meanwhile, Alexia celebrated the special day with the girlfriend and the dog by walking at the Passeig de Gracia. It might have been a bit too busy for her taste, but the midfielder wanted to get her love something she only could get there. Both admired the Casa Batlló which was decorated with roses in front of them when the Barcelona player spotted someone very familiar:” Hi Narla and Lucy.”

“Hi.”, the English woman grinned, holding proudly the dog leash in one hand and in the other beautiful red flowers.

“Oh, the roses are stunning.”, Olga remarked smiling.

“I hope my girls like them too.”, Lucy responded, her cheeks turning slightly pink which didn’t get unnoticed by her club captain.

“Who thought Lucy Bronz is a romantic.”, Alexia teased the defender.

“I’m not but those two are. So, I’m delivering.”, the slightly older woman explained.

“That’s cute.”, Olga hummed.

“I know.”, Lucy laughed.

“See you, Lucia.”, the blonde said goodbye, so did her girlfriend and the English player.

Glancing at the watch around her wrist Lucy realized that was time to slowly return to her home.

Almost at the same time Ona and you arrived on your front door. The Spanish player happily exclaimed while entering the appartement:” Hi girls, you can start cooking I bought the goods.”

“Perfect., you nodded, after a moment you couldn’t hold it back any longer and added, look, I got you two those flowers.”

“Hey, get those out of here. I bought some already.”, Lucy joked.

“What, no, I got some too!”, Ona chuckled.

“Are you saying we have different bouquets of flowers now?”, you lifted an eyebrow in amusement.

“Yes, we do.”, the youngest of you three smiled sheepishly.

“One for the kitchen, one for the living room and one to put into our bedroom.”, the English woman decided.

“Sounds like a plan.”, you agreed with her before Lucy, and you started cooking.

The dinner that followed was filled with laughter and love. Because it already was quite late you three moved your conversation into your bedroom which smelled of fresh linen and lightly of fresh cut flowers.

“Y/n, show us the book you got from shopping earlier.”, Ona demanded excitedly.

“Alright make yourself comfortable.”, you told the women you loved.

“Wait. I’ll make us tea before you start.”, the English defender got up from the bed quickly, suddenly remembering what she wanted to do to make the moments especially cozy.

“She’s so British sometimes.”, the Spanish player muttered amused.

“Honestly.”, you giggled.

Patiently you waited until Lucy returned with her tea cup in hand. She placed the hot beverage on the bedside table and made herself comfortable next to you.

Ona planted her head in your lap.

“Ready?“, you asked.

Lucy took a sip of her tea before she gave you a nod: “Ready.“

Smiling, you opened your book and started reading a few poems.

Your girlfriends listened quietly.

“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life.“, you read.

“Easy. Making you stop reading now so we can do other fun things.“, Lucy smirked, putting her hand across the page to keep you from continuing.

Ona sat up in excitement: “Right. We’ll continue with the poems tomorrow.“

You groaned: “You two are always so impatient. At least let me put the book away.“

Carefully you set down the book on the bedside table, next to Lucys now cold tea.

“No, time for that!“, Ona protested, pulling you back on the bed with a grin.

You raised an eyebrow: “Excuse me?“

Lucy just shrugged and slipped her hand under your shirt: “You heard her.“

“Okay, okay.“, you laughed, letting yourself relax under her touch.

“Finally.“

Ona moved closer to you, starting to suck on the sensitive skin of your neck while Lucys hands continued to move across your body. You enjoyed every movement. Your girlfriends knew how to make you feel good and you could not wait to give it back to them.

“Wild and precious life indeed.“, you sighed.

a/n: would you guys be interested in just a Luna fanfic ? <3

all pictures are from pinterest.

[nyanbin]

ღ infrunami — p.wb

10. papa's tteokbokkiria

꒰ EPISODE LENGTH ꒱ 3.1k words

꒰ AUTHOR’S NOTE ꒱ texts + tweets at the end! practically wrote a whole ass oneshot fic again cus im insane but theres more yn/wonbin interactions in this one i promise ^_^

← prev | masterlist | next →

𖦹 JUN. 14 (YEAR 1, SPRING) — 5:48 PM

THE YEARLY SPRING FESTIVAL AT SM UNIVERSITY takes place right before the beginning of the finals period of the spring semester, acting as a moment of respite and fun for students before the inevitable days of rigorous studying. It was your first year attending the festival as a student at the university, but you had sometimes visited when you were in high school, oftentimes with Eunseok in tow, so you were already somewhat familiar with how it worked and what kinds of things you could do there.

Unfortunately, in your case, you haven’t yet been able to experience the festivities, because you’d headed straight to the tteokbokki stand as soon as you’d arrived. The festival had already  been in full swing by the time you had gotten there with Shotaro and Eunseok, on account of all of your last classes of the day being in a building on the other side of campus. But while you actually did have just a little bit of time to look around before your shift, the two boys were oddly eager to send you off, reasoning that you should get there early so that Seunghan wouldn’t get in trouble. (As if they actually cared that much if he did.)

So, here you were, standing under the canopy tent of the photography club’s tteokbokki booth, longingly watching the passersby and listening to the lively music that you could hear playing from every corner of the festival. The girls who were on shift before you had eagerly left as soon as they'd finished explaining everything you needed to know about running the booth, and you were still waiting on Sohee to get there, so you were ultimately left to your own devices.

In the short time since you had arrived, there hadn’t been any customers, which you figured was because most people were currently at the amphitheater nearby watching the music performances. Once those ended, though, you anticipated that there would be a lot more people coming by. As you looked around for something to keep yourself busy in the meantime, you noticed that there were only a few of the canned drinks that the booth was also selling left at the front, so you decided to start by restocking those.

While hunched over the cooler and rummaging for the drinks, you hear the rustle of the tent flap moving aside behind you and assume it’s Sohee who had finally come to help you on the shift. You turn around to greet him, cans gathered in your arms, but his name dies in your throat when you make eye contact with Wonbin instead, who freezes while still ducked halfway underneath the tent. A dry laugh escapes you, and you already feel the aggravation rewiring your brain as if seeing Wonbin’s face had flipped the on-switch.

“What are you doing here?” you snark, narrowing your eyes at Wonbin, who looks to be as taken aback as you are.

He hesitates before stepping inside all the way, glancing around and then back at you. He’s stood firm on the opposite side of the tent as he crosses his arms. “I could say the same for you. Didn’t take you to be much of a photographer.”

You scoff. “I’m not in this club. Seunghan asked me to fill in for him.” While turning away from him to finish restocking the drinks, you continue, “You know if you wanna buy something, you have to go in front of the counter, not behind it, right?” 

”I’m not here to buy something,” he snaps, quick to react to your condescending tone. “Sohee… asked me to come here…” 

You turn to look at him as he suddenly sighs, seeming to realize something as he runs a hand through his hair. “For what?” you ask incredulously. “To work here?”

At his slow, weary nod, it dawns on you, too: this was a set-up. 

Immediately wanting out of this situation, you debated whether or not to call the two instigators and tell them to get their asses over here, but you decided that it was no use. If they had planned this, there was no way Seunghan and Sohee would come back to relieve you of your jobs. You imagined the two of them were frolicking around the festival at this very moment, their phones conveniently on do not disturb.

Resigned, you shake your head in disbelief, turning around to close the cooler with a little more force than needed. “Those idiots…”

You plant your hands on your hips, chewing on your lip, now beginning to dread the next two hours you’d have to spend with the boy you had been at odds with the past few weeks. You glance sideways at the culprit, who was currently peering curiously at the trays of tteokbokki. Wonbin had still not stepped that much away from the other side of the tent, as if he would die if he came within a five-foot radius of you. (Which, in truth, was definitely possible.)

After massaging your temples with a deep exhale, you speak up first. “Listen, I’m sure you’re absolutely loving this situation as much as I am, but I don’t wanna make these next two hours harder than they need to be. So let’s just get through this without fucking anything up, okay?”

Wonbin thinks about your words for a moment with his tongue in his cheek, as if trying to find a way to sneak in a taunting remark, but he instead shrugs as he says, “Fine by me.”

Thus, the first half hour or so of your cruel and unusual punishment mostly consisted of the two of you trying your best to avoid the other in the small space of the canopy tent. Business was still slow, so much time was spent sitting in the folding chairs or idly stirring the tteokbokki, trying to pay no mind to the other person. The only time a word would come out of either of your mouths was when a customer stopped by, attitude all of a sudden all cheerful as if the hostility radiating off the both of you wasn’t evident moments before. 

Once the performances at the amphitheater ended, though, this determination to not work with each other only proved to be detrimental. As you had anticipated earlier, many of the people filing back into the festival after the performances were hungry and looking for something to eat, resulting in a rush of customers at the tteokbokki stand. 

At first, the two of you still refused to properly communicate with each other. But with the way you were each handling the customers on your own, one by one, it quickly became disorienting, as the two of you frantically moved around each other, often getting confused on who had paid already or who was still waiting for something. It was obvious the two of you weren’t gonna last long if you kept this up; so, in a hurry to make things more efficient, you grab Wonbin by the shoulders, pushing him in front of the box of money acting as the cash register.

“You take care of that,” you say while moving to place yourself in front of the trays of tteokbokki, “and I’ll take care of this.” You only look at him briefly, tilting your head as if to say ‘Understand?’, before returning your focus back to the customer in front of you. Wonbin opens his mouth to argue, but decides against it with a shake of his head when he looks back at the growing line of customers.

Eventually, with this system, the two of you seemed to fall into a certain rhythm. Wonbin would take the orders, relaying them to you, and you would serve the food. Every now and then, you would take turns to restock as needed. Simple as that. Unsurprisingly, the rush was infinitely easier to handle now that you and Wonbin were working with each other rather than against each other.

After about an hour into your shift, the constant stream of customers had finally died down and you could finally take a breather. You plopped down into one of the folding chairs while dabbing at the small beads of sweat forming on your forehead from having to stand around the simmering trays of tteokbokki for so long. You slouched into your seat, shutting your eyes and pulling at your collar for some ventilation.

“Here,” you hear a voice say from above you. You open one eye to see Wonbin standing above you, arm outstretched and holding an ice-cold bottle of water towards you. Your stare shifts between the bottle and his face, baffled, before sitting up and hesitantly taking the bottle into your hands.

“Thanks,” you mutter, before taking a nice, long swig. 

Wonbin leans his weight on the table next to him, taking a drink out of his own water bottle. He clears his throat before asking, “Do you notice when you do that voice? Or is it, like, subconscious?”

“What?” You narrow your eyes at him. “What voice?”

“Like a… a customer service voice? When you’re talking to them, your voice kinda like… goes up an octave.” With a sly smile, he begins to mimic your voice in falsetto, the pitch raising an extra note at the end of each sentence. 

“Ugh,” you groan, rolling your eyes at him. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“I mean, you suffered through it, didn’t you?”

“Oh, I suffered, alright.”

You expect him to bite back with another taunt, but he relents, just letting out a short, amused laugh, one corner of his mouth lifting in a toothy smirk. You huff, glancing off to the side while wrinkling your eyebrows in annoyance, but, for whatever reason, you realized you didn’t feel as vexed as you wanted to seem. 

Behind Wonbin, you notice a customer walking up to the table. You quickly stood up to go help her on your own, relieved to not have to entertain Wonbin’s antics anymore. 

The customer was an older lady who seemed to be a visitor from off-campus. Already quite used to it at this point, you quickly take her order (during which you realized Wonbin was right about your “customer service voice”) and hand her her food. But instead of leaving, the woman just stands there looking down into the cup with a frown. You raise your eyebrows slightly as she says, “Is this all you’re gonna give me?”

“Sorry?”

“Look, at how much you put in here!” She tilts the cup towards you, jabbing a pointer finger at it. “I could barely feed an ant with this!”

You sigh inwardly, your hopes of not having to deal with any irrational customers here having been dashed. “Sorry, ma’am, but this is the same amount we give everybody.” 

“Well, for the amount I paid, you should be giving more! What is this, huh? A scam?”

Wonbin had turned his attention to the commotion as soon as he heard the woman complain. He was off to the side busying himself with the supplies, glancing at you every now and then as the situation unfolded. When he notices it was only escalating, though, and the woman continues to raise her voice at you, Wonbin decides to step in. “We could get you a new serving, if you like?” he offers.

The woman angrily waves her hand in dismissal. “Just so you could, what, charge me extra for it? Do you think I’m stupid?!”

“There’s no need to yell…” he murmurs in response, earning him a sharp glare from the woman.  You nudge his leg with your foot, signaling to him that it was okay, you had this under control, but he just stays put where he is.

“Ma’am, no one’s trying to scam you here,” you say as softly as you can manage. “If you really don’t want us to replace it, we can give you a refund and you can leave.”

She scowls even more, and you thought if she kept this up the frown would be permanently etched onto her face. “Ugh, you young people are so rude nowadays! Here, just take it back!”

All of a sudden, the woman flings the cup of tteokbokki at you, its trajectory headed straight for the middle of your shirt. Wonbin is quick to react, though, and is able to pull you back by the arm before it hits you, causing the paper cup to fall to the ground instead. Unluckily, some of the sauce still manages to get on your jeans and your shoes, and you wince slightly when you feel its heat seep through your clothes.

The woman clicks her tongue in contempt, looking you guys up and down with another scowl. She then storms off, likely off to find another booth and terrorize the next poor unpaid college student working there.

Wonbin watches her go, then says, indignation lacing his voice, “Holy shit. What the hell was her problem?” He looks down at you, only to realize his hand is still clinging to your forearm. He hurriedly detaches himself from you, suddenly interested in the empty wall of the tent as he sheepishly scratches the nape of his neck.

His awkwardness goes unnoticed by you as you pinch at your jeans to inspect the stain. With a sigh, you say to Wonbin, completely deadpan, “Wow. You saved my life, thanks.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he laughs in response as he moves to the extra supplies to grab a clean towel, then dousing it with water from his bottle. When he turns back to you, you’re crouched by the spill on the ground, picking up the stray pieces of rice cake with a paper towel.

“Here,” he says, handing the damp towel to you to wipe the stain on your clothes. You thank him as you stand, watching him as he takes over cleaning the mess on the ground.

“You’re, uh, good though, right?” Wonbin continues.

“Yeah. It’s fine,” you answer with a shrug. “Though, I will say I’m kinda disappointed you didn’t fight her in my honor like a gentleman.”

“Did you want me to punch an old lady in the face or something?”

“C’mon, she wasn’t that old.”

Wonbin had finished cleaning and disposing of the mess, and was now leaning back on the table behind him, weight shifted to his arms, studying you as you continued fervently wiping on the stain on your jeans and shoes. With an amused huff, he replies, “God, do you seriously hate me so much that you’re siding with the lady who just threw tteokbokki in your face over me?”

You know he doesn’t mean it all too seriously, but his words have you contemplating these past few weeks in retrospect. He clearly didn’t know it, but, deep down, you knew there wasn’t a bone in your body that actually hated him. In fact, it was likely because, despite living (and fighting) with him for a while now, you still felt like you didn’t know him well enough to actually have it out for him. With this in mind, it occurred to you that this stupid scheme the other boys had planned had worked. And you’d hate to prove them right, but you resolved to swallow your pride and try to be mature for once.

After all, there’s one thing you (begrudgingly) knew to be true: Park Wonbin was still someone you wanted to know.

“Hey…” you begin, still mindlessly wiping at the stain, which at this point wasn’t going to get any less noticeable. “You know I don't actually hate you, right?”  Your admission catches Wonbin off-guard. He raises his eyebrows slightly, unsure of where this was leading. 

“Uh-huh…” he says skeptically.

“No, I’m being for real! Y’know, when I first met you guys at the café and I figured out you guys were gonna be my new roommates, the one thing I wanted was for you guys to like me. But you… you were just so distant, and cold, and mysterious, and—”

“Okay, okay. I get it,” Wonbin interjects, hands raised in surrender.

“I guess I just got frustrated because we didn’t immediately get along as well as I’d hoped, and it just sorta blew up in my face— in both our faces. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you… I’m sorry.”

Wonbin doesn’t respond at first, gaze directed downwards and his face expressionless as if he hadn’t heard a single word you’d said. You feel the heat rising to your cheeks in embarrassment, ready to take back your apology and replace it with another typically spiteful remark. But then he exhales, returning his gaze to you as he runs a hand through his hair.

“No, you— you shouldn’t apologize. It’s my fault. I was kind of a douchebag,” he admits, picking at his nails in uncertainty. “I shouldn’t have made you feel like the only way you could get through to me was by… y’know…” He waves his hand arbitrarily in place of having to describe the past few weeks of constant bickering and making passive-aggressive jabs at each other.

“I mean, it kinda worked, didn’t it? I feel like we exchanged more words in that argument we had yesterday over toothpaste than the entire first two weeks we knew each other.”

He lets out a hollow laugh. “Mm, guess it did.”

Amidst the bustle of people and the faint music heard from outside the booth, a silence settles between the two of you. It was a kind of silence you weren’t used to with Wonbin, so different from the typical tense, heavy silences you were often subjected to when you were alone with him. Nonetheless, the two of you basked in it as you watched people pass by, chattering and laughing amongst their friends. The sun was beginning to set, and the lampposts lined across the pavement were starting to flicker to life, bathing the festival in a soft, warm glow. It occurred to you that you still had a little under an hour to go stuck working at this booth, but, right now, it didn’t seem so bad.

Wonbin is the first to break the silence, saying, “I saw some people selling bingsu on the way here. I’ve practically been thinking about it this whole time.” He pauses to choose his next words carefully. “If you're not doing anything after this, do you maybe wanna… come with? When we’re done?”

You pretended to contemplate it for a little bit, tapping your finger on your chin. “Hmmm… sure,” you finally reply. “You’re buying, though.”

“Fine,” he yields. “But maybe you should get a change of clothes before we go. You sorta reek of tteokbokki.”

You push at his shoulder with an exasperated groan as the corners of his mouth lift to form a familiar teasing smile. “Oh, screw you, Wonbin.”

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꒰ AUTHOR’S NOTE ꒱ finally out of their blatantly despising each other era yayyyy 🥳 also for reference 25,000₩ is around 19$ and 2000₩ is around 1.50$ LOL

꒰ TAGLIST ꒱ open! leave an ask or comment to be added :) (strikethrough = can’t be tagged)

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[whalesforhands]

what’s yours is mine (7/?)

previous masterlist next

pairing: geto suguru x reader x gojo satoru

You don’t know a lot of things, and you readily admit that. What you do know, is that the friends you’ve made aren’t something you will ever regret. Until your physical body weakens and becomes nothing, you’re more than happy to give your all until you wither away.

What’s yours can be theirs, too. They’re your friends, after-all. (Omegaverse AU)

“You’re not going to get any better if you don’t lie down.”

Yet you don’t listen, only clinging harder onto your Mama and pressing your face into her thigh from behind, helplessly balling her clothes into your fists as she watches the stove that had yet to be turned on.

Where a pot of uncooked rice porridge still sat atop, cold and unappetizing; totally unfit for a sick child such as you.

It was a curse that you swore had beset you on this unlucky day as you woke up groggy and sapped of your energy, stumbling over your blanket with shortened breaths as you tried to get to the bathroom.

You’re sure of it. An evil villain had blackened your soul, diminished your health and withered your spirit— All because you were a hero. That’s why Mama came upstairs only to find your half-dressed self face-planted onto the futon, your body trembling and clearly struggling to dress yourself without her as your eyes went teary from stress and the resentment of your weakened limbs.

“M-Mama…” Your voice is weak, strained and clearly upset as it tips over into a sob as you’re scooped up into her arms, her forehead pressed against yours in hurried moves as her much cooler hands hold your limp body.

You’re burning up.

“Honey, I think you’re sick.” It’s in a quiet coo, a soft trill to her tone in attempts to hush the beginnings of you throwing a fit.

“I-I’m n-not sick…!” You denied, hands curled into weak fists to throw a miniature, and very fatigue-ridden tantrum as your eyes tear up, bottom lip trembling as you try your best not to cry.

And Mama knows that you’re not the type to deny yourself from such things. Not the type of good child that would decline being babied and fawned over by her within any given circumstance. But she gets it, gets you.

It’s the day of the sports festival after all.

At the ripe young age of 8, sports has always been a defining point in popularity and the general likability of an individual in their class. A time for kids such as yourself to build repertoire, to build a reputation for themselves. A way to be labelled as ‘someone’.

Simply put, it was your opportunity to make friends without actually ‘making friends’. A, in your opinion, relatively smart way of flouting Satoru’s promise and Suguru’s disapproving gaze.

(Even if it made you sad to make them sad…)

So you chose to take part in the relay race, the one team based event that you think you could not possibly be bad at, your hand raised high into the air and eyes sparkling with a determination that made you believe that there was definitely a victory in sight when your teacher called for volunteers.

It went against your yearly choice of being on the cheer team, but you think change can be a good thing.

(Heroes always talk about it in anime.)

That’s why. That’s why your face was burning hot with the passion that was meant to be exerted upon the relay race, the tears leaking out of your eyes and soaking into your Mama’s skirt meant to be ones that would taste like victory when you brought great honour and glory to Class 3B.

It just wasn’t meant to be.

This is definitely the world’s revenge for making your friends upset. Heroes definitely do not have it easy, even if you did single-handedly save Satoru’s playground.

You can’t even eat the super delicious character bento that your Mama had stayed up late last night to make you as your bottom lip wobbles, frustration running high and your hands balling up the fabric of her skirt as you try your absolute hardest to make the swell in your throat go down.

You don’t want to cry. You’re strong. You’re capable. That’s why you’re a hero. That’s why you can’t let the villain who cursed you win.

And when a hand is gently rubbing your head from above alongside the sound of a pot clattering closed; it was enough to make the dam that you had so desperately tried to keep closed burst open.

“It’s okay to be sad.”

She knows how much you trained for this day. How much you let her smear sunscreen all over your face, whining and letting her pat your cheeks as you slip your feet into velcro sneakers, waving her goodbye with your waterbottle tucked underneath your armpit and a hanky in your pocket.

“Satoru said he’ll help me train.” Your look of determination barely falters as you smile up at her. “So I’m gonna work really, really hard.”

Gojo Satoru. The anchor of your class, the star boy who effortlessly gets the best grades despite sleeping through most of the lessons, and the one unanimously decided by the majority that he is the running last because that was just how fast he was. Don’t get yourself wrong, Suguru was fast. And really smart too.

But Gojo Satoru was just too exceptional even for the above average.

So that’s why you’re out here, an empty plastic cup in your hands acting as the ‘baton’ and Suguru waving a palm in front of your face to break you out of your daydreaming trance.

“You sure you wanna train when it’s so hot out?” His brows are furrowed and his lips are downturned into a frown. “Satoru and I don’t mind, but you don’t really like playing outside.”

Other than the playground anyway.

“Mmhm.” A nod of your head and the clenching of your fingers around the replacement baton as your own eyes hued with a fiery resolve met his worried purple. “I gotta do it.”

You’ll do it for glory. For the future where you’ll be as highly revered as your friends, for the classmates to even possibly think that you were the slightest bit cool.

“You’ll help, right?” Your smile is innocent and far too happy, the giddiness on the cheeks that were too cute for him to say anything else.

“…okay.” Anything for you.

This was your hero training arc.

“And Suguru’s gonna be passing to you from that tree, and you’ll pass to me! So we’re gonna practice that by running up and down this path I made Kimi-chan mark out!”

“Seriously? Where’d ya even get them?”

“I made Kimi-chan buy them, duh.”

That sounds easy enough, right? The cones that had been laid out practically beckon you as your ears no longer pick up on the chatter between your 2 friends, a giddy excitement in your stomach as you clench your fists with blazing resolve.

Well, some things are easier said than done.

A fall.

“(name)-sama, are you okay?!” Hands hurriedly pulling you back up to your feet as fingers fumble over your knees. “That was quite a bad fall…!”

Another stumble.

“I’ll run faster so that you have more time to pass to Satoru, okay?” His words are only slightly chopped, slightly winded from the multiple laps that he had gone as his hanky presses against your scratched knee.

An unprecedented tripping over your own feet. Or was it the air…?

“W-What? Ya were so close that time! How’d ya even fall?!” Gojo Satoru is the one who catches you this time, having hurriedly trying to break your fall having noticed the slightest odd bend in your ankles.

“Kimi-chan! How long did that take?!” He pants, wiping the sweat off his brow as the baton sticks to his slick hand, snowy hair sticking to his forehead as Suguru fans himself under the shade of the tree you were all taking refuge under, letting you catch your breath by leaning against him.

Said caretaker looks up from where she was icing your bruises, hands moving swiftly to take another look at the timer. “Exactly 2 minutes and 38 seconds, Young Master.”

“Ehhh? That’s so slow!”

And while you don’t cry a lot, but it doesn’t mean that you never will. It doesn’t mean that you don’t feel frustrated at the fact that you ran so much every single day after school, panting and feeling the heat of the sun on your hands, the sticky feeling of your clothes on your skin as you try not to feel faint. Try to get your bearings back every single time the boys practically ran laps around you.

Training is difficult. And it’s even more difficult to have to come to terms with what was now out of your reach.

“There’s always next year,” Her hand pats your back as her voice is barely above a whisper, gently wiping your tears as you feel her hand upon your chin, gingerly making you release your jaw so that you won’t bite down on your lips.

“What you worked hard for won’t disappear just like that.”

So that you won’t be so hard on yourself either.

“B-but I can’t—“ Can’t do anything even if you worked so hard for it. It’s become useless all on its own, even when you had so clearly forced down more vegetables these days in preparation, gulping down lots and lots of water to aid in the healthiness power up.

“What you can do now is do your best to cheer for your friends, okay? Then your effort won’t go to waste if you cheer really, really hard for them.” Your sight is blurry as you blink through your tears, staring up at the soft expression of your Mama’s face, the fever patch on your head making you start to feel faint.

“You’re really good at cheering too.” Not to brag or anything, but your Mama is definitely right. But you think your running is definitely and hopefully much better.

But that’s the only thing you can do for them now. A second chance, a gleaming, glowing chance that paves way to make up for the fact that you couldn’t win together with them.

So you accept it.

“Okay…” Even if you can’t see them, even if you can’t even cheer for them physically like you did in the previous years. But you’ll pray, pray really really hard in your head that they will win, that they would be the ones to bring the glory that you couldn’t.

You really hope it goes well. You really, really, really hope so as your chin rests on your Mama’s shoulder, your legs wrapped around her waist and her hand patting your back as she carries you up the stairs.

You do wonder how they’re doing up to now, though. Hopefully… Winning?

“No!” A cross of his arms and a huff of annoyance. “No way am I gonna receive from some nobody!” A decisive stamp of his foot into the dirt below, his back turned onto the only other person here that would even dare to go this close to him, especially when he’s kicking up a dust cloud alongside throwing yet another tantrum.

“You’re being too much, Satoru.” He sighs with a palm pressed to his forehead, his hair now shorter than ever so as to comply with school regulations as he watches his stubborn friend.

At least it won’t get in his face when he’s doing sports. Much unlike the fuming Gojo Satoru in front of him.

“Oi Suguru! How could ya let that hag tell us what to do?!”

And Geto Suguru feels like his head was going to split open. “Our homeroom teacher only suggested that we get a replacement because we’re short of one.”

At least, that’s what he’s been trying to get across for the past 10 minutes.

“We don’t need anybody replacin’ her!” Another stomp onto the ground as the blue-eyed boy pouts even harder, making a pebble launch off the ground and rocket towards the concrete wall to ricochet with a force full of repulsed impatience. “They’re gonna be stupider than her for getting sick t’day!”

“Then our class would be a person short, Satoru. And don’t call people stupid.” Because you’d probably be the one to make that comment right about now. Not that it matters, even if it came from the noiret who even tried to dissuade him with words that you’d probably say—

All for naught. Even if they mimicked the way you spoke, it just doesn’t have the same effect. So Geto Suguru had decided to just give up entirely to be the crass, straight to the point self that scratched at the nerves of the neighbourhood Gojo.

(And it looked like Satoru liked this version of him better, anyway.)

It doesn’t make logical sense to skip out on manpower. Not at all, especially when they’re in this specific category looking for a win. Yet, Suguru gets it as his nose scrunches and his brows furrow. He gets why the boy is so adamant on your position not getting swiped from underneath their noses.

(He won’t admit it though. If he does it first, it means Satoru wins.)

“It’s not like you can stop being sick all of a sudden.”

You worked so hard, after all. You would never be the type to lie to skip out on this. You’re just… Unlucky. Or was it their fault for making you play in those rain puddles…?

(“It’s not fair! I even made my maids pack extra special Digimon bentos to eat t’day!”

“Eat them yourself then—“

“No!”)

Alas, he still has to deal with the spoiled prince whom even the teachers seem too scared to make him upset. Seriously, what is up with everyone and the Gojo family?

“Then you just gotta run faster!” A poke of a proud finger into the young boy’s chest, a purposeful prod that was barely teetering on a threat as those shiny blue hues were ignited by a flare of indignation.

A glare that commanded Suguru’s obedience and compliance as those angry cheeks puff up even more.

Suguru would like to deny it, but you’re right when you say that this spoiled, stubborn, annoying boy was c—

“I don’t wanna receive from anybody else!” A click of his tongue as his shoe kicks at the dirt below him, and a smack against the black-haired boy’s shoulder as flabbergasted amethyst clashes against unrelenting sapphire.

“And we’re gonna win, no matter what. So don’t drag us down or I won’t forgive you!”

Good god, he was so difficult to deal with. Not that this was anything out of the ordinary for Geto Suguru, though.

A sigh, and childlike hands that clasped their together into a determined handshake, fingers squeezing into a promise just as the blare of the loudspeaker comes on to announce the start of their event.

“Say that to yourself first, Satoru.” A tightening of their hands as the ‘handshake’ gets ever tighter with their growing adrenaline. “I won’t forgive you either if you lose to the rest of them.”

(“Also, can’t ya eat your bentos yourself? My mama packed me one too with cold soba—“ He immediately shuts up when he spots the angry pout on his friend’s face, red cheeks and fuming anger that threatened to have steam blow out his ears.

And the— Sight of eyes that looked like they were gonna… Cry?

Oh.

“…let’s save some for (name) when we eat them later.”)

——

“Dear,” A cool hand pushes your hair back as you groggily blink awake, tummy still warm from porridge and forehead feeling slightly damp from the soft, moist cloth against your heated skin. “Are you feeling better?”

“Mn…” You think your body is starting to feel less heavy, less burdensome on your bones as you let out a groan, small hand reaching out for the glass of water that looked like it was floating in front of you.

Magic glasses of water taste the best. You would know since you had a couple today. At least… You think it’s magic. It is, right? That’s why they always fly around and looked like there was always more than one surrounding you.

“Geto-san came over with some soup when she heard you were sick.” She’s gently smoothing down your hair as you start to perk up, shifting slightly so as to be able to sit up properly against your Mama’s arm supporting you against your back.

“You can eat it later, okay?”

You hope you have strength to go over and thank her later, though… Do you have to give her something as thanks too? It must be hard, having to make a soup that would help cure the curse upon your body…

Mama stops momentarily as she watches you from above, humming slightly when you finally down the rest of your glass and let out a little sigh, fully going lax against your Mama’s cooler to the touch body as you cuddle up against her.

She should take more off days to stay together with you more—

“Oh, and your friends. They came over to visit as well.”

And that has you whipping around to face your Mama, the sudden movement making your stiff neck cramp slightly from how long you laid down.

But it doesn’t matter. The pain won’t stop you. Won’t stop the racing thoughts you had through your head that mostly overpowered the soreness of your neck.

Was the sports event already over? Did they win? Did they lose— No. Wait. That’s impossible. Your friends could never, would never lose. Oh, but what if there was a possible chance there was? Even if heroes suffered a little bit sometimes the villain could still win—

“But I couldn’t let them in.”

“(name)’s mama! Is she awake yet?” This was probably the third time they had knocked against the front door, hands on his hips and blue eyes staring up at the all too patient woman.

“Satoru— My mama said we have to wait.” Purple eyes blink up at her apologetically. “Sorry, (name)‘s mama, we can wait a while longer—“

“But it’s been like— Too long, Suguru! How much longer until she wakes up???”

Oh. That sucks. You visibly deflate, a whimper escaping you as your shoulders slump into defeat. You can’t even talk to them or else you’ll pass your dirty, cursed germs to them…

“Nothing a call can’t fix,” She uses a soft handkerchief to wipe any remnant moisture, petting your head as her eyes briefly meet the drawn curtains of your shared bedroom.

“And I might… Have a better idea.”

Excited waves from the window, shimmers of gold against reflective glass and your widening eyes as the summer breeze flutters the curtains and ruffles through your hair.

It’s windier than you thought, with the sun in your eyes and the cicadas singing in this heat.

(Or was it because you just spent most of the day sleeping?)

“Look! I won the medals for us!” Half his body was practically hanging off of the window ledge, hands holding all 3 shiny medals as his lower half was held back only by the more responsible friend clinging onto Satoru’s waist and pulling with all the might an 8 year old might have.

“Satoru! Don’t lean over the window— And we won those together!”

A haughty huff.

“Ya, but you didn’t cross the finish line, did ya? I did! But look, look! We got your medal too!”

(“You’re so annoying!”

“Blehhhh!” A stick out of his tongue as excited blue kept jumping in place despite the dangerous position he put himself in. “Kimi-chan’s already down there to catch me just in case, anyway!”)

Golden and shiny and everything that encompassed a winner. It shone so brightly even when competing against the late afternoon sunshine, stood out even when held

Winners. They’re winners.

But if you think about it all on your lonesome, looking upon those shiny medals and standing by your window with your futon wrapped around your form…

There’s something odd about this empty feeling inside of you. Something that lingers in the same sense disappointment would, swirling around you and making you feel… Bad.

Why? You’re happy that your class won, happy that they managed to win the glory you’ve been going on and on about in your head. They’re winners, beat out all the other people who trained hard for this event as well. What is this disgusting feeling of secretly hoping that they lost?

So why? Why is it that you feel this way even as they smile so proudly at you, proclaiming that they’ll personally hang the medal around your neck when you get better so that they can dub you a winner too—

“See? Ya didn’t have to worry about us at all, (name)!” His sparkling blue eyes close to form a matching grin with Suguru who was too busy smiling at you despite your sick state, eyes too busy to notice Gojo Satoru smacking his shoulder when they’re stuck staring at you.

“You’re getting better, right? Your Mama said that you slept a lot. We can talk more with our telephone when Satoru’s gone cause he’s annoying.”

“Hey! I want a string telephone connecting to all your houses too!”

“You live too far. So it’s only mine and (name)’s.”

Ah. You think you get it now. Understand why you feel this way as your hand gingerly presses against your hot cheek and sliding up to your eyes to feel the wetness that was starting to form.

When did you—?

It has your friends doing a double take.

“(name)… Are you crying?” Please don’t cry.

“I-I think she’s just happy that we won! Right, (name)?” Please don’t cry. Not right now.

Because you realize these weren’t tears of happiness, after all. It was the realization that— Despite all your training, despite all the effort you put in to help them, help this class…

They didn’t need you to win after all.

“…yea! Good job!” Your smile feels too unlike any that you’ve ever given, all stretched awkwardly and like it didn’t belong.

This wasn’t you. You know it so, since this is your own self you’re talking about.

You’ve definitely been cursed.

——

And so, it wasn’t long after that you finally recovered, finally able to properly get onto your feet. Finally able to get dressed without your Mama's help, finally able to pick up your backpack without faceplanting onto the ground... All that healing food did wonders.

("You're so happy today, Satoru." You can't help but smile at the boy holding hands with both yourself and your black-haired friend as all 3 of you sat in his car, listlessly listening to the radio together as he sat directly in between the both of you, tips of his ears red as he tries to act... Cool.

"Oh? Satoru, what's with that face?" A smug smile and upturned purple eyes. "Don't tell me it's because you missed-"

"Shut up, Weird Bangs!")

So imagine your surprise when your teacher beckons someone in from outside your classroom door, the entrance sliding open and the taps of an unfamiliar pair of shiny, brand new indoor shoes against the floors of this familiar classroom.

A new kid. One that had a pretty mole by her eye and her prettier name written so neatly upon the blackboard in such neat chalk lines that you just can’t help but feel envious.

“Ieiri Shoko. Please take care of me.” With only the slightest bow as she stares ahead blankly, eyes avoiding the whispers of your already chattering class.

It must be scary, right? To have to stand there and do that… You don’t think you want to be in her position right now.

“Do you think she’s scared?” It’s a thoughtless whisper to the only other person who could possibly hear right now, your own gaze meeting familiar purple.

“Maybe.” He’s dismissive, as if he didn’t care too much as he takes out his pencil case. “I brought the colour pencils you wanted to see, by the way.”

Ohh—! You’ve been wanting to—

“She looks boring.” His crass huff from your other occupied side makes you think he already doesn’t like her. “Don’t talk to her, (name).”

Shimmering comets for eyes turn to meet yours, glowing with a certain spark that had hidden thoughts.

“You’ll get into trouble.”

“Thank you, Ieiri-chan. Please sit at the empty desk near the back by Minato-chan.” A shuffle of papers as your homeroom teacher neatens the stack. “I want you all to be nice to our new friend, okay?”

“Okay, sensei!”

“Good! Now let’s begin class.”

Lunch rolls by far too quickly today. You swear the clock is definitely moving faster than usual.

“Heyyyyy. Stop studying and let’s go playyyyy!” A poke of your cheek as you stare at Suguru’s workings, eyes narrowing as you try to make sense of these complicated numbers.

“Ah, make sure you erase this. You’ll get confused if you don’t.”

“Is this right?” Your paper is pushed towards the more helpful of your friends, anticipating his praise as you wait with bated breath as his purple eyes scan over the worksheet.

You definitely got it this time. Definitely.

“Suguruuuuu! Y’er so slow, I’ll do it!” And that has him snatching up the starting to crumple sheet, blue eyes screening over it with ferocious and frightening accuracy, his cute brows furrowed and his bottom lip jutted out as he lets out a huff.

“This one’s wrong.” A finger taps against your paper, drawing a circle with his fingertip as he yawns. “And this one. This too.”

“The last one was s’pposed to be right but ya forgot to carry the 1 over.” His cheeks puff with dismissiveness when he looks up to only see Suguru comforting you with pats on your shoulder.

Oh.

“W-What? I only checked ‘em over!” He’s not at fault again for something, right? He was sure this was a more straightforward thing of being correct or not, something that shouldn’t be that big of a deal even if it’s because of the way he spoke—

If you hadn’t gotten them all wrong, that is.

“…it’s okay, (name). We can just practice them again.” And you pout, letting Suguru pat your head in consolation as you stare down at the hurriedly marked paper that was handed back to you. “Satoru just doesn’t know how to be nice cause he’s mean.”

“Hey! I can be nice!” Fuming rage and his hands slamming against his desk. “I’ll help ya both study later if (name) gives me a hug and the pudding in your fridge!”

And he’s serious about it. You can tell by his shiny cheeks and those smug half-lidded eyes that he would help— Even if you didn’t give him the pudding. The hug would be mandatory, though.

“What does my pudding even have to do with all this?”

All this whilst that new girl sat alone in the back of the class by herself. She’s not good at making friends, you notice. Quietly keeping to herself as she flips through a book, ignoring the cries of your schoolmates running down the hallway and into the wide, wide yard.

And when hands squeeze your cheeks together, mushing your face into his palms and making you turn away—

“You shouldn’t look at other people when we’re here. Sato—“ He stops himself, eyes moving from the pouting boy and back to your face that was in his hands. “I don’t like it.”

You must’ve been staring for too long.

——

“I don’t wanna go!” He’s clinging to you, backpack hastily thrown onto the ground as Kimiko-san tries her absolute hardest to persuade her young master into the car.

“Please, Satoru-sama. You have martial arts training—“

“Don’t wanna! I wanna stay with (name)!”

So all you can do is stand there and pat his shoulder, his head on your not at all stiff shoulder as you reciprocate his overly attached self, blinking up at a panicking Kimiko-san before down to the head of fluffy white.

“Suguru said he’ll beat you up with judo if you don’t go.”

Because he’s in the club. And he’s really good at it. Better than Satoru, actually.

“That dummy’s not gonna beat me.” It’s off handed and far too self assured as it’s muffled by the strap of your bag.

“You don’t know that.” You really don’t. Suguru’s been going on and on about training a lot, and he let you both see how he could do a flip once. At least— You think it counts as a flip anyway.

And you can hear him mutter unintelligible words, before he pulls away, his hands grabbing onto your shoulders and ferocious, narrowed eyes staring at you head-on with a pout on his lips.

“You better be at home to play with me when we’re back!”

“Okay.” You nod, sticking out your pinky towards him as you smile. “I promise.”

“Hmph!” He takes it, roughly, with a pout that turned into a satisfied smile as he finally— Finally gets in the car.

(“Thank you so much, (name)-sama…”

“It’s okay. I heard Libras were unlucky today cause the stars aren’t aligned for them. You should be cautious about the people around you, lest you run into trouble.”

“T-Thank you, (name)-sama…? Please get home safe. Weather reports say that it will rain soon.”)

And what unexpectedly occurred— Was the fact that the new kid was waiting in the same area as you were, waiting out the rain due to a neglected umbrella that probably sat near her door.

Which was the same case as you were. Except— Despite Kimiko-san’s warning, you ended up wandering around school too long in hopes of getting to watch Suguru train.

“Hi.” You’re trying to make conversation now that it’s just the both of you. Alone. By yourselves. This is a rare chance, honestly. You can count how many times you’ve been left like this by your friends on one hand throughout the years you’ve all been together.

It’s a chance you don’t really want to pass up. Time to put those social skills you’ve gleaned over the years into good use.

(From all those TV shows you’ve watched, of course. Your zodiac sign said that you’ll be lucky if you put yourself out there! And you’re outside right now, so you definitely have been buffed. A special power-up, if you will.)

“…hello.” A response. This is a success. A major success that you got on your own accord.

(Onto the next phase!)

“So didya hear about the… Recent sports festival?” You nod your head. Perfect. Perfect follow-up. “Our school held one a couple days ago.”

“Oh. That.” She doesn’t look up from the book she had been reading all this time. And now that you’re much closer to her than you ever were before—

You realize it’s a manga. Not a book. Technically, she is holding onto a book, but utilizing the hard cover page to cover up the fact that the manga had been sneakily slotted in.

“I was meant to join just a day before, actually. But I made my mama wait a couple days more.”

What.

“You waited until the day after?” Why? Why would she— This new girl do such a thing when it could bring you and your class such great glory?

“But the sports festival is fun…” And a great chance to make a ton of new friends. She’s not under the same promises that you made.

She goes silent, the mole on her cheek rising with her huff as she looks off to the side, out to the open air space that held the path to the school entrance as droplets of water tap against the tips of her shoes.

“Cause it’s bothersome.”

Oh. That’s a new type of answer.

“Do you hate bothersome things?”

And finally— She looks into your eyes, pushing back a stray strand of her long hair and her eyes hued with dews of luster brown that reminded you of the autumn sunset surrounded by orange leaves and sunset rays.

“Yea.”

“Oh.” That’s all you know how to say now, actually. Um… How do you respond to that?

So you go silent. You think she might be annoyed. Hopefully she’s not? You hope she likes you, though. And that you left an okayish impression. Should you tell her she’s pretty? But still, Suguru’s prettier but you can’t tell her that—

“Do you… Usually let them treat you like that?” She sounds… Bored. Maybe taken aback. Or was it simply just curiosity?

Either way, you’ve never really heard anyone ask about that— Other than your Mama, of course. But you tell her everything practically everyday.

“Is there something—“ How should you say it? Is she trying to tell you something? You think it’s fine, even if you don’t know how other people view it. “Bad about the way they treat me?”

You watch as she thinks for a bit, staring off to the side for a bit and up into the dark skies as the rain starts to pour just that little bit harder.

“Not at all.”

——

“Stop looking at me like that, you brat.”

Your eyes were practically boring into him as you watch him rub at a bruise on his cheek, his knuckles stained with dried blood and his green eyes narrowed into a mean glare.

“Did you beat up some—“ You try to think about how he described those people the last time you talked to him— Which was around last week, maybe?

“Butt ugly misters?”

It’s not the exact wording he used, but whatever he says makes you scared to parrot them since you’ve seen one of the old aunties— Sugimoto-san quite literally gasp when she heard him talk once.

“They’re motherfuc— Bad people. Don’t call them misters.”

“You said you didn’t care what I call them though.”

And all you get in response is the click of his tongue. “Whatever, brat.”

Silence. It’s steady and beating and not at all uncomfortable as you watch him pull out another piece of his snack, big teeth chewing with an open mouth and manners flying away. Yet, you still end up asking from your built up curiosity and these mere few minutes just before either of your friends would make it home.

It’s your free time, anyway.

“Mister, am I a bothersome person?” Like those thugs that he gets into scraps with practically every month?

A deep huff as his teeth chew on dried squid, gnawing at the tough exterior as he stares off into the oranges of the sky. “Duh. Who even likes annoying brats like you?”

Even when he says it like that, you can’t help but feel that it’s not true. There’s a reason you hang around him, a reason you still stay despite how mean and nasty this almost adult can be and how often he lies about how he definitely didn’t get into fights.

It’s because he reminds you a little of Satoru.

His words may cut, may be a little overwhelming and cruel. But they ultimately held no weight, nothing particularly soul-crushing or tear weeping.

You might even dare to say that even his insults sound very comforting to you.

That was why you were eating the very crushed biscuits that had been almost mashed into dust right out of the very crinkled plastic packaging that it came out from right now.

(He bought it for you.)

“Nuh uh. Mama says I’m a good kid.”

Maybe it’s the sincerity in your tone, the innocence that can only come from a child that got him thinking.

He doesn’t know how to describe how he’s feeling right now as he stares down at his bruised knuckles, bloody and calloused and hastily bandaged as he grunts.

“Then stop hanging out with me if you think that, kid.”

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[novaursa]

The Dragon's Right (9)

- Summary: It was by grace of the gods that firstborn child of Viserys I and Aemma was born a boy and he lived. And all of the rest, scholars will later say, is by power of something more malevolent in kind.

- Paring: male!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Note: For all the parts of the story, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 5 600+

- Previous part: 8

- Next part: 10

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne

The festivities within the Red Keep carried on with an air of elegance and grandeur. The hall was filled with lords and ladies adorned in their finest, the colors of their houses displayed proudly on their gowns and cloaks. Candles flickered along the walls, while the sounds of laughter and the soft clinking of goblets echoed in the grand chamber. Music filled the space, a lively tune played by skilled musicians that encouraged the courtiers to take to the dance floor, but for the moment, you found yourself occupied with conversation rather than the revelry.

Standing near the edge of the hall, you spoke quietly with Tayland Lannister, his finely groomed beard and richly embroidered tunic a testament to the wealth of his house. Tayland was speaking animatedly about the tournament, his voice filled with the enthusiasm that came with such events.

“A fine opening tilt, Your Grace,” he said with a smile, raising his goblet in a casual salute. “But I must admit, I was surprised you chose not to continue the competition. Surely the prize could have been yours with ease.”

You nodded, offering him a polite smile but inwardly glad to have stepped away from the melee. The tournament was always a spectacle, and while you enjoyed the thrill of competition, you knew the real purpose of your participation had been symbolic. You had opened the games, tilted against your opponent, and left the field for the knights to fight over the reward.

“I wanted to give others the chance,” you replied smoothly, the warmth of your voice masking the underlying truth. “It wouldn’t be much of a contest if I stayed on. Best to let the knights have their glory.”

Tayland chuckled, swirling the wine in his goblet. “Ever the gracious prince, Your Grace. But surely there are those who would have loved to see you claim the victory.”

You smiled faintly but said nothing more on the matter, your eyes wandering across the hall. The music and laughter seemed to swirl around you, but your attention was drawn to a single figure across the room—Rhaenyra. She stood by the dais, surrounded by her handmaidens, her eyes occasionally flicking toward you with a look that promised something more. There was a silent exchange between the two of you, a shared understanding that no one else in the room could perceive. You gave her a brief nod, a promise in your gaze, one that told her you would visit her later, in private.

Rhaenyra’s lips curved into a barely noticeable smile, but her eyes were filled with a quiet longing. She turned her head, her expression composed, though you could sense her anticipation. The crowd around you faded as your thoughts lingered on that promise, and for a moment, the weight of the room, the expectations of the court, seemed distant.

Just then, the music shifted to a slower, more melodic tune, and Alicent, standing beside Rhaenyra, glanced at her friend before looking across the room toward you. The question on her lips was tinged with curiosity and something more. “Is your brother not dancing tonight?” she asked, her voice soft but pointed.

Rhaenyra didn’t bother to turn her head fully, answering flatly, “No, he will not be dancing.”

Alicent’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly before she turned back to Rhaenyra. “A shame,” she said just as coolly, her tone neutral but carrying an edge of disappointment. “There are many ladies who would have liked their turn with the prince.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes darkened slightly at the comment, though she didn’t let her emotions show beyond a tight smile. “They’ll just have to be disappointed,” she replied, her voice steady, but the meaning beneath her words was clear.

Alicent glanced at her friend, sensing the tension in the air. “I suppose so,” she said, though the unspoken words hung between them like a veil. The two women exchanged a look—one that was filled with the complexities of their friendship, the distance that had grown between them since your return. Alicent, with her father’s expectations weighing on her, had been thrust into a role she hadn’t asked for, but Rhaenyra couldn’t shake the feeling that her friend had become a rival, even if neither of them would admit it aloud.

The music continued, and courtiers took to the floor, their movements graceful and fluid as they danced in circles of twirling silk and gleaming armor. The room was alive with celebration, but you remained by the wall, still engaged in conversation with Tayland. You could feel the eyes of the court on you, whispers moving through the crowd about why the prince wasn’t partaking in the festivities.

“The ladies are disappointed, you know,” Tayland said with a grin, his tone teasing but not unkind. “I’ve heard many say they hoped for a dance with you tonight.”

You let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head. “Not tonight, I’m afraid.”

Tayland raised an eyebrow. “No interest in a dance, Your Grace?”

You took a sip from your goblet, your gaze drifting back to Rhaenyra. “No, I have other matters on my mind.”

Tayland followed your gaze for a brief moment, understanding flickering in his eyes, though he said nothing more on the subject. He shifted the conversation back to the tournament, discussing the knights and their performances with enthusiasm, but your thoughts were elsewhere.

Across the room, Rhaenyra and Alicent stood in silence, the conversation between them having come to a standstill. Rhaenyra’s mind was not on the music or the crowd around her, but on you. She could feel the weight of your silent promise, the anticipation of your visit later that night. Alicent’s words still lingered in her ears, but Rhaenyra pushed them aside. She wasn’t concerned about the other ladies, or their wishes to dance with you. She knew where your affections lay, and that knowledge gave her strength.

Alicent, on the other hand, felt a growing unease in the silence between them. She had noticed the way your eyes had lingered on Rhaenyra, the quiet connection between the two of you that seemed to deepen with every passing moment. Though she didn’t voice her thoughts, the feeling of being on the outside, watching a bond that she couldn’t fully understand, gnawed at her.

“They all seem so content,” Alicent said quietly, her gaze sweeping the room. “As if the world outside these walls doesn’t exist.”

Rhaenyra’s lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “That’s what these festivals are for, isn’t it? To make us forget, even if only for a night.”

Alicent nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Yes… I suppose so.”

As the music continued to play, the night stretched on, the festivities unfolding around them. But for you and Rhaenyra, the evening’s true moment of importance had already been decided—a promise exchanged in a single glance, a promise that would be fulfilled later, away from the eyes of the court.

(one month later)

The heavy silence of King Viserys's chambers was broken only by the soft crackling of the hearth. The familiar model of Old Valyria, the one Viserys so often found solace in, sat untouched, forgotten for the moment. His hands rested on his lap, but his fingers drummed anxiously on the armrest of his chair. His face, usually calm or filled with the quiet strength of a ruler, now seemed troubled, weighed down by the burden of a decision he knew had to be made. It was a decision that left his heart heavy and aching.

The faint clink of armor and footsteps echoed in the hallway before the door opened. You entered, your brow furrowed with concern at the sudden and unexpected summons. You had sensed something was wrong even before you arrived, and the sight of your father sitting alone, lost in his thoughts, only deepened that feeling.

“Father,” you said softly, stepping into the room. You stood just inside the doorway, hesitant to interrupt whatever heavy thoughts were consuming him. “You summoned me?”

Viserys looked up at you, his face lined with worry and something else—something deeper, almost mournful. He gestured for you to come closer, and you did, though the tension in the air only seemed to grow the nearer you got.

“I did, yes,” Viserys finally said, his voice thick with emotion. “There’s… something we must discuss.” He paused, searching for the right words, and for a moment, he just studied you, as if committing the sight of you to memory. “Come, sit with me.”

You did as he asked, taking a seat across from him, but even as you sat, you could feel the weight of whatever was coming pressing down on both of you.

“What is it, Father?” you asked, your voice quiet but steady, though you could already sense that whatever this was, it wasn’t going to be a simple matter.

Viserys sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face as if the gesture might help him clear his mind. He leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees, and met your gaze with a look of deep sorrow. “I’ve received word… troubling news, I’m afraid.”

You tensed, your heart already pounding faster. “What news?”

“Dorne,” Viserys began, his voice almost a whisper. ��They’ve amassed an army along our borders. It’s no longer just a provocation, no longer a mere show of strength. They are preparing for a full-scale push into our lands.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and ominous. You blinked, processing what he had just said, and the room seemed to grow colder, the crackling fire in the hearth doing nothing to dispel the chill that ran through you.

You knew what your father was conveying even before he spoke again. With Daemon still fighting in the Stepstones, and Corlys and Laenor stretched thin in the seas, the crown had few forces left to hold the borders. And now, with Dorne making a serious threat, the realm was teetering on the edge of war once more.

“I understand,” you said quietly, your voice steady despite the weight of the moment. “I will be ready by the morrow. Silverwing and I will fly to the borders and reinforce our forces.”

Viserys winced at your words, his sorrow deepening. His hand trembled slightly as he reached for his goblet of wine, but he didn’t drink from it. Instead, he set it back down and looked at you, his eyes filled with regret. “I do this with an extremely heavy heart, my son,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I never imagined I would have to send you back into battle so soon. Not after everything… not after the last time.”

You sat quietly, absorbing the emotion in his voice, the pain of a father who had already sent his son into danger once before and now had to do so again. But you understood. You knew your duty to the realm, and you knew that if you didn’t go, the borders would fall. There was no one else.

“I am the heir to the throne,” you replied softly, though your heart ached at the thought of leaving again, especially after only just returning to some semblance of normalcy. “This is my duty. It’s what I was born to do.”

Viserys leaned back in his chair, his expression filled with anguish. “Yes… your duty.” He looked away, his gaze falling to the floor, as if the word itself pained him. “But that doesn’t make it any easier. I thought, after you returned, that we might finally have some peace. I thought… perhaps we could have more time.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his sorrow. You had known this day would come, known that your role as the crown prince would inevitably lead you back to war. But hearing your father’s words, seeing the pain etched on his face, made it all the more difficult.

“I wish we had more time, too,” you admitted, your voice soft. “But the realm needs us now, and I can’t let Dorne advance unchecked.”

Viserys’s eyes filled with unshed tears, and he looked at you with the kind of sadness only a father could know. “I worry for you, my son,” he whispered. “Every time you leave, every time you mount Silverwing to fly into battle, I fear… I fear that one day you won’t return.”

You were quiet for a moment, the weight of his words settling over you like a heavy cloak. “I will return, Father,” you said, your voice filled with quiet conviction. “I always have.”

Viserys nodded, though the fear in his eyes remained. “I know. But a father’s heart is not ruled by reason. It is ruled by love. And that love makes me fear for you more than you know.”

You took a deep breath, reaching out to place a hand on your father’s arm. “I’ll be careful,” you promised. “I’ll do everything I can to keep our borders safe—and to come back.”

Viserys looked at you for a long moment, his face filled with both pride and sorrow. “You’ve always been a good son,” he said softly. “And I have no doubt that you will be a good king one day. But it doesn’t make it any easier to send you away again.”

You nodded, understanding his pain even as your own heart ached with the weight of what was to come. “I’ll make sure this is over quickly,” you said, your voice firm with determination. “Dorne won’t succeed. Not while I’m there.”

Viserys sighed heavily, running a hand through his thinning hair. “I know you will, my son. But war is never predictable. I just wish… I wish we didn’t have to live like this. I wish we could be at peace.”

You stood from your seat, feeling the urgency of the moment pulling you toward the preparations you knew you needed to make. “Peace will come, Father. But for now, I must go where I’m needed.”

Viserys nodded, though his heart was clearly heavy with the decision. “Yes,” he whispered. “You must.”

As you turned to leave, your father called out to you one last time. “Be careful, Y/N. Please.”

You looked back at him, offering a small smile despite the gravity of the moment. “I will, Father. I’ll return. I promise.”

With that, you left the room, the weight of the realm’s future resting on your shoulders once again.

The corridors of the Red Keep seemed darker than usual as you made your way through them, your footsteps echoing softly off the stone walls. Your thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions—duty, frustration, and the aching feeling of leaving behind everything you had fought to protect. The conversation with your father had only solidified what you knew had to be done. You longed to return to the battlefield, where everything was clearer, where your purpose was defined by steel and fire. But this time, it was different. The pull of duty was no longer the sole force driving you forward.

Rhaenyra.

You felt the weight of her name in your mind, the thought of what this would mean to her adding to the already heavy burden on your shoulders. The battlefield called to you, but the idea of leaving her behind… it was unbearable in a way that no war ever had been.

You reached her chambers and paused outside the door, gathering your thoughts, knowing that the news you bore would not be welcomed. She had been waiting for you, as she always did, and you had promised her you would never leave her to face the court’s politics and schemes alone. And yet here you were, about to tell her you would be gone by morning.

Taking a deep breath, you entered.

Rhaenyra sat near the window, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight. The moment she saw you, her face brightened with a smile, as if your very presence were enough to lift her spirits. But the second she met your gaze, her smile faltered. She could see the weight on your shoulders, the storm brewing behind your eyes.

“You’re troubled,” she said softly, her voice filled with concern as she rose from her seat. “What is it?”

You hesitated, taking a few steps closer, the tension in your chest making it difficult to speak. Finally, you forced the words out. “I’m leaving in the morning,” you said quietly, watching her face closely. “I’ve been called back to the Dornish border. Dorne has amassed a large army. This time, they’re not just provoking us—they’re preparing for a full-scale invasion.”

Rhaenyra’s face became a canvas of conflicting emotions. Her lips parted as if to speak, but no words came. The initial shock quickly gave way to something else—hurt, anger, and the deep sense of abandonment she had tried so hard to bury. She took a step back, her brows furrowing.

“So you’re leaving again,” she whispered, though the softness of her voice was undercut by the sharp edge of anger growing within her. “You’re escaping the court again, off to wage war while I’m left behind to face… everything.”

You flinched at her accusation, knowing she was speaking from pain but feeling the sting of her words nonetheless. “I’m not escaping anything,” you said, your voice firm but tinged with sorrow. “I’m doing my duty. Dorne is preparing to strike at our borders, and I’m needed there to defend the realm.”

“Your duty,” she spat, her voice rising with the anger she could no longer contain. “It’s always your duty. You think I don’t understand? You think I don’t see it? But while you’re out there, fighting your battles, I’m stuck here, left to face the vultures circling me.”

“Rhaenyra—”

“No,” she interrupted, her eyes flashing with fury. “Don’t say my name like that. You’re abandoning me! Again!”

Her words hit you like a blow, the fire in her eyes burning into you. You stepped closer, trying to bridge the gap between you, but she moved back, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “I’m not abandoning you,” you said quietly, trying to keep your voice calm. “I’m going to defend our home, to ensure that Dorne doesn’t tear through the borders. This is something I have to do.”

“And what about me?” she demanded, her voice breaking as she looked at you with a mixture of anger and desperation. “What about the promises you made to me? While you’re gone, they’ll wed me off to some lord I don’t even know. They’ll bargain me away like a pawn on their chessboard. And I’ll be alone.”

You shook your head, feeling your own frustration rising. “I promised you, Rhaenyra,” you said firmly. “I promised I wouldn’t let that happen. I’ll return, and I’ll make sure that no one forces you into a marriage you don’t want. I swear it.”

But your words, though sincere, did little to quell the fire in her heart. She took a step closer, her voice trembling now, not just with anger but with the weight of all the emotions she had been holding inside. “And how will you stop it from happening when you’re gone? When you’re not here to stop them? How do you know what will happen while you’re away?”

You didn’t have an answer for that, not one that would satisfy her. You wished you could give her a solution, a way to guarantee that everything would be all right. But you couldn’t. The truth was, you didn’t know how long you would be gone. The uncertainty of war made promises difficult to keep.

“I’ll write to you,” you said, trying to offer her something, anything. “As often as I can. I’ll make sure you know everything that’s happening.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes filled with tears, her chest rising and falling with the weight of her emotions. She looked at you, the anger still there but now mixed with something else—betrayal, sorrow, the deep pain of being left behind once again. “I don’t want your letters,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I want you here.”

You stepped closer, reaching out to take her hand, but she pulled away, shaking her head. “Go,” she said quietly, though the firmness in her voice remained. “If you’re so eager to leave, then go. But don’t stand here and make promises you can’t keep.”

You stood there for a moment, helpless, the weight of her words pressing down on you like a heavy cloak. “Rhaenyra, I…”

“Go!” she repeated, her voice rising again, though this time it was filled with the anguish she could no longer hide.

There was nothing more you could say. Her tears, the fury in her voice, the pain in her eyes—there was no argument you could make that would heal the wounds she felt in that moment. So you did as she asked. You turned and left her chambers, though every step you took felt like a dagger twisting in your heart.

Before you reached the door, you stopped and looked back at her one last time. “I’ll write to you,” you said softly, the promise lingering in the air between you.

Rhaenyra said nothing, her back turned to you as she stood by the window, her shoulders shaking as she fought to keep her tears from falling.

You left, the door closing behind you with a finality that echoed in the empty hallway.

And when Rhaenyra was alone, the tears she had held back finally fell, silent sobs shaking her body as she sank to the floor, clutching her arms around herself, feeling more alone than she had in a long time.

The early morning air was cool and still as the sky began to lighten, casting a soft gray over the courtyard of the Red Keep. The city beyond the walls was still half-asleep, its usual noise and bustle muted in the pre-dawn calm. The day ahead, however, was anything but peaceful. You stood near the stables, watching as your squire, Trystan Tyrell, diligently prepared your horse, Stormwind, for the ride to the Dragonpit. The massive creature, dark chestnut with a dark sheen to his coat that caught the faint light, pawed at the ground, sensing the heaviness in the air.

Trystan worked quietly, his usual chatter absent this morning. He tightened the saddle straps, adjusted the reins, and ensured that your armor, packed neatly in saddlebags, was secure for the journey. You watched him with a quiet appreciation, but your thoughts were far from the task at hand. The weight of leaving once again, of the duty that called you away from the Keep, rested heavily on your shoulders. It was a familiar feeling, but this time, it was more burdensome than ever.

Your father, King Viserys, stood nearby, his expression one of quiet sorrow. The lines on his face seemed deeper this morning, his usual warm demeanor replaced by a solemn air. His hands, clasped in front of him, trembled slightly, and though he had tried to hide it, you had noticed. He had always struggled with your departure, and this time was no different.

“Are you ready?” Viserys asked, his voice heavy with emotion as he stepped closer to you.

You nodded, adjusting the bracers on your forearms, your fingers brushing against the cool leather. “I am,” you replied, though the words felt hollow. No one was ever truly ready for war, but you had been trained for this. It was your duty.

Viserys’s eyes glistened, though he tried to hold himself steady. “I hate this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I hate sending you off like this again.”

You looked at him, understanding his pain but knowing there was no other way. “I’ll return, Father,” you promised, your voice quiet but firm. “I always do.”

Viserys nodded, though his expression was far from convinced. “I know. But it never gets easier.”

You could feel the weight of his sorrow, the burden of a father sending his son into danger. You stepped forward and clasped his shoulder gently, offering him a small smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’ll be careful,” you reassured him. “I’ll keep Silverwing close and make sure Dorne doesn’t breach our borders.”

Before your father could say more, you heard footsteps approaching from behind. You turned to see Otto Hightower and his daughter, Alicent, making their way across the courtyard. Otto’s face was impassive, though his eyes betrayed a hint of concern as he approached you. Alicent, standing by his side, glanced at you with a look that carried more than just worry—there was something else in her eyes, a silent plea perhaps, though you couldn’t quite place it.

“Your Grace,” Otto began, bowing his head slightly. “I wish you good fortune in the coming days. The realm is lucky to have you defending it.”

You nodded, appreciating the formality but feeling the usual restraint in his words. “Thank you, Lord Hightower,” you replied politely, though your focus quickly shifted to Alicent, who stood quietly beside him.

“Good luck,” she said softly, her eyes holding yours for a moment longer than necessary. There was hope in her gaze, a quiet desperation, though she didn’t voice it aloud.

You offered her a brief, polite smile, unsure of how to respond to the unspoken tension between you. “Thank you, Lady Alicent,” you said, keeping your tone formal, though her expression lingered in your mind as you turned back to your preparations.

The absence of Rhaenyra was notable, her empty place beside your father a reminder of your last conversation. The fight had left a raw ache in your chest, but there was no time to dwell on it now. She hadn’t come to say goodbye, and though it stung, you understood. Her anger had cut deep, and the thought of leaving with that unresolved tension gnawed at you.

As you mounted Stormwind, the sound of armor clinking approached, and you turned to see Ser Criston Cole walking toward you, his usual steadfast demeanor softened with a hint of regret.

“Your Grace,” Criston said with a respectful nod. “I came to wish you luck before your departure. I would have liked nothing more than to ride with you into battle once again, but…” He glanced toward the Keep, a wry smile touching his lips. “Duty calls me here now.”

You offered him a nod of understanding, appreciating the sentiment behind his words. “You served me well in Dorne,” you said, your tone genuine. “I would have been glad to have you at my side again, Ser Criston. But I understand—your new duties are important.”

Criston’s expression flickered with a mixture of pride and frustration. “It seems my sword will have to remain here in King’s Landing, for now. But I know you’ll make quick work of Dorne. They won’t stand a chance against Silverwing.”

You smiled faintly, the tension in your chest easing for a brief moment. “Let’s hope so.”

As Criston stepped back, you turned your attention to your father once more. Viserys moved toward you, his hand coming up to clasp your forearm in a firm grip. “Go with the gods, my son,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “And come back to us. Come back to me.”

You looked into his eyes, the weight of his words pressing heavily on you. “I will,” you said softly, your heart aching at the thought of leaving him once again.

With one last look at your father, you tugged on the reins, guiding Stormwind forward. The sound of hooves clattered against the stones as you rode out of the courtyard, heading toward the Dragonpit where Silverwing awaited. As the Keep grew smaller in the distance, the weight of duty settled over you once more, but beneath it all, the thought of Rhaenyra’s absence haunted you.

You would leave by morning, but the fight with her lingered, a battle you had not yet won.

Rhaenyra stood at the edge of her balcony, her hands gripping the cold stone railing so tightly that her knuckles turned white. The chill of the early morning air brushed against her skin, but she barely noticed it, her eyes locked on the figure in the sky. Silverwing, with her gleaming silver scales, soared above the Red Keep, the powerful wings cutting through the air with grace and strength. And there, atop the dragon’s back, was you, flying away from her once more.

Her heart ached as she watched you disappear into the distant horizon, a sharp pang of regret twisting in her chest. The events of the previous night played in her mind like a haunting melody, the fight, the anger, the hurt. It had all come rushing out of her in a wave of fury and desperation, and now, as she stood alone, she wished she had said something else—anything else.

Her breathing was shallow, uneven, and she felt the hot sting of tears welling up in her eyes, blurring her vision. She blinked rapidly, trying to force them back, trying to maintain her composure. But the sight of Silverwing growing smaller and smaller in the sky, the distance between you and her widening with every beat of the dragon’s wings, made it impossible to hold them in.

A tear slipped down her cheek, warm against the chill of the wind. She brushed it away angrily, hating herself for this weakness, hating how powerless she felt in this moment. But the more she tried to fight it, the more the flood of emotion built inside her, until she could no longer stop it.

She turned away from the balcony, pressing her back against the stone wall as the tears began to fall freely. Her chest heaved with quiet sobs, her body shaking as she wrapped her arms around herself. The weight of her sorrow felt unbearable, a mix of anger, fear, and love all tangled together in a knot that she couldn’t unravel.

“I hate this,” she whispered to herself, her voice choked with emotion. “I hate that you’re leaving… again.”

The words tasted bitter on her tongue, the same bitterness she had felt the night before when she had accused you of abandoning her. She had been so angry, so filled with frustration that she hadn’t let herself think clearly. Now, in the quiet of the morning, with the reality of your departure sinking in, all she could feel was regret.

She wished she had told you how much it hurt her, not just to see you leave, but to know that she was left behind. She wasn’t angry because you were going to war. She was angry because she felt powerless, like a tool in a game where everyone else made decisions for her. And now, with you gone, the court would move swiftly to decide her fate. They would bargain her away like a piece of property, and there would be no one here to stop them.

Rhaenyra’s tears continued to fall, the frustration and fear building in her chest until it became almost too much to bear. She wiped at her face with the back of her hand, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she tried to calm herself. But the sight of you flying away, the last glimpse of Silverwing in the distance, lingered in her mind like a wound that refused to heal.

“I don’t want you to go,” she whispered, her voice barely audible now, as if saying the words would somehow bring you back. “I need you here…”

But she knew, deep down, that there was no bringing you back. You were bound to your duty, to the realm, and to the war that threatened the borders. And as much as she hated it, as much as it tore her apart inside, she couldn’t stop you. This was who you were—a prince, a warrior, a protector. And even though she wanted to scream at you to stay, to defy the world and stay by her side, she knew it wasn’t that simple.

Rhaenyra slid down to the floor, her back pressed against the cold stone of the balcony wall. Her tears had slowed, but the ache in her chest remained, heavy and suffocating. She rested her head against her knees, her arms wrapped around her legs as she stared blankly at the floor.

The room around her was silent, save for the faint sounds of the city waking up far below. But in her heart, the silence was deafening. You were gone, and she was alone again. Left to face the court, left to face her future without you there to stand beside her.

She wiped her eyes again, but the tears kept coming, slow and steady. She hated this. She hated feeling weak, feeling like she had no control over her own life. But most of all, she hated the thought of losing you. Every time you left, a part of her feared it would be the last time she saw you. That one day, you wouldn’t come back, and she would be left to face the world without you.

Rhaenyra lifted her head slightly, her eyes red and puffy from crying. She looked out at the horizon, where Silverwing had disappeared, and whispered one final, desperate thought, as if you might somehow hear her across the miles.

“Please, come back to me.”

She didn’t know how long she sat there, the morning slipping away as the sun rose higher in the sky. But eventually, the tears slowed, and the weight in her chest became a dull, throbbing ache. She wiped her face once more, standing slowly, her legs unsteady beneath her. She needed to be strong now, even if it felt impossible.

But in her heart, the pain remained, a constant reminder that once again, you were gone, and she was left alone.

[mischieveousmayhem]

Hiiii I was wondering if I could request a Deku x reader and jealous ochako??

It goes where reader and deku are childhood besties like pinky promised to marry each other when they get older besties but reader had to move away to another country due to being accepted into one of the most prestigious quirk schools in the world (besides UA) and she ends up coming back to Japan during the UA sports festival and her and deku have a sweet reunion but ochako seems to be a bit jealous of reader and tries to make it obvious abt how she feels abt deku but in the end ultimately decides her jealousy isn’t worth losing her friendship over and deku and reader end up together :3

"Until we meet again.."

a/n: ok this took me a minute to figure out what i wanted to do but please enjoy! i did see the other part anon , where you requested what the quirk is, i just spiced it up a little! also please request guys im so uninspired till i see requests.

pairing: Izuku Midoriya x Fem! Reader , one sided Izuku Midoriya x Ochako

Warnings: Jealousy, Cursing, Making Ochako act slightly fannon and annoying, Reader moves to Getmaly

Genre: Fluff , maybe slightly angsty?

Synopsis: Y/N L/N finally returns to Japan where she can finally see her bestest friend. However, someone (Ochako) has a crush on her best friend, Izuku. When Ochako sees the two super close she tries to steal all of Izuku's attention away from the reader. But is it worth the loss of making her crush, but friend hate her?

Readers Quirk: Energy Absorbtation. User can absorb energy around them (ex. electricity, heat, etc.) and release powerful bolts of pink bolts. User also has laser eyes and can absorb enough energy to fly . (Basically Starfires powers but using energy to create the power). However the user must be super careful! Absorbing too much energy can make them have too much adrenaline and lose control and go manic!

—

"HEY!" A small voice boomed across the playground.

The ash blonde and his friends turned to see to see who was yelling at them. The green haired boy sunk more thinking it was just another person who would treat him the same as the ash blonde, Kastuki Bakugou and his friends were.

"Leave him alone! He didn't do anything to you."

Looking at the figure it was a girl, she had H/C pigtails and beautiful S/C toned skin. This made Bakugou smirk. Really? A girl tryna challenge the great Katsuki.

"Ooohhh I'm so scared , what is a little weak girl gonna do." He sarcastically remarked.

She smiled, "Weak? You call this weak?" There are pink bolts forming around her hand.

"Wowww so your a night light?" One of the ash blondes friends say.

"Hmm, no." She takes the bolts and pulverizes a nearby petite plant. The ash blonde and the rest of the bullies eyes widened, "Could be you next by the way." She said knowing that the plant was only turned to ashes for two reasons, it was a small plant and secondly, she didn't really know how to use her quirk that well so she absorbed a powerful bit.

Bakugou snaps out of it, "Yeah whatever, I'm not scared of you. We're just gonna leave cause we don't hang around useless nerds." Bakugou leaves while his "posse" follows behind him.

The girl walks up to the green-headed boy on the ground and reaches out a hand. He immediately takes it.

"Thanks for that..." He spoke shyly not knowing the girl who was seen as a stranger.

"No problem! Whats your name by the way?" She smiled.

"Izuku Midoriya."

"Cool name! I'm Y/N L/N"

"Nice to meet you L/N"

"Please just call me Y/N!"

From then on the two hung out more and more each day and they grew closer and closer. To the point where one day when they were playing house in Y/N's backyard a conversation came up.

Currently the two had stuffed animals and dolls as kids and Y/N smiled "I can't wait to have a life this growing up! It's so fun being married to you too!"

"Yeah it is fun. I want to have a life like this when I grow up to! Being a hero and having kids that look up to me would be a great life" Izuku smiled at her agreement.

"I have an idea, when we grow up, let's get married!" She exclaimed.

"Okay!" He says giving her a hug.

Once the hug breaks she holds out her pinky.

"Pinky promise?"

Their fingers lock.

"Pinky promise."

The two were super estatic to grow up and marry each other. However they ran into a road bump.

"Izuku..I'm sorry but I have to leave the country. I got an offer to go to a better school than U.A."

Those words rang into Izuku's ears everyday even to the present day. Everyday he missed her , everyday he wanted to see her face to face instead of just texting her or calling her. He missed her dearly. Y/N was like Izuku's oxygen. He felt it hard to breathe without her. However her going away didn't set him back from his journey to becoming number one hero. In fact, it pushed him harder.

This takes us to present day, the day Y/N gets to come home. Although it is not permanent, Izuku is very happy she is coming back home even if it's just for the festival. Sure all his friends were nice at U.A. Especially Ochako. She considered Izuku her best friend, but he didn't consider his. Y/N would always be his best friend no matter what.

They haven't been separated that long either it's been like what? A year? Maybe a little less? Either way he was just happy he was going to her again. And again was today.

Waiting at the bus stop for her to get off, Ochako stood next to him, more like against him, she gave him like zero personal space. They were gonna walk with Y/N to U.A since she must not be familiar with Japan anymore.

"Soo who are we waiting for?" Ochako started conversation.

"My childhood best friend." Izuku says.

Ochako questions, "Oh really? Did they not pass the exam go get into U.A?"

"Actually that's not it at all. She got an offer to take an exam at a much more prestigious school and she passed. She is one of the top students in her class." Izuku explains.

She? His best friend was a she? This made Ochakos stomach turn into knots. She has had a crush on Izuku for a while but he knew his so called childhood best friend longer. What if he liked his childhood best friend instead of Ochako? Is that why he ignores all her small hints? Or maybe the boy is just oblivious as hell.

Snapping her out of her thoughts, the bus pulled up and there came a beautiful S/C toned girl who stepped off smiling as wide as possible.

Izuku didn't even almost notice her! She had changed so much. Her hair had pink highlights, the same shade as her energy bolts along with puberty hitting her like a bus, and not just her body, but her face matured. The only thing that made Izuku sure it was her was that wide smile and her glimmering E/C eyes.

"Izuku!" She jumped and embraced him. Before he could even embrace her back they started flying in the air in circles. After 5 seconds of spinning Y/N made sure both their feet touched the ground.

Ochako just stood there awkwardly watching this entire interaction. However her awkward stance is what was hiding that boiling feeling inside her.

"You can fly now?!" Izuku exclaimed at Y/N.

"Yeah! Training really does help you explore what else you can do with your powers." She smiled. "I can't wait to see your awesome quirk today at the festival."

She knew Izuku got a quirk , however she didn't know the backstory on how or why he got it so late. She didn't even bother to ask because the boy was happy and she wouldn't dare ask unless he offered to tell her.

"I'm gonna try my best to win." He says before turning to the awkward Ochako.

"Oh Uraraka, this is my best friend I was telling you about! This is Y/N and Y/N, this is Uraraka." He introduced the two.

Y/N stuck out her hand in front of Uraraka to shake it, "Nice to meet you, by the way you're like soo pretty."

Ochako shook Y/N's hand, "Nice to meet you too, and thanks." She said, but you could hear the slight bitterness in Ochako's voice.

The three walked to U.A together, mainly Izuku and Y/N talking and laughing while Ochako trailed behind them, like a third wheel. This wasn't fair. When Y/N wasn't here Izuku would be talking and laughing with her not Y/N. She would just have to get Izuku's attention some way.

—

Before the festival started Izuku and Y/N shared on more conversation.

"Woww , it must be fun to be able to compete! In Germany we can't compete in festivals till we're second years." Y/N explained.

"I wish so too, I would love to try to compete against you so I can show you how I can beat you with my quirk." He said pumping a fist up.

"And may she might, young students!" All Might appeared out of no where behind the two. The voice startled Y/N but when she turned around she saw All Might.

"Oh my stars! It's All Might!! Wait what do you mean?" She titled her head.

"I have heard about you , L/N. You and your fellow students were in a magazine a while ago." He explained, while Y/N's eyes lit up. "I can speak and have it arranged for you to join us in our festival. I want to see you at work."

"Oh my stars! Really?! Like really , really?!" Y/N was so happy right now she looked like she was gonna pee herself.

"I can try. Now wait for me outside in the hall while I speak to this young student." All Might says as Y/N obeys and closes the door on the way out.

All Might shrinks back down to regular old Toshi. He coughs before speaking.

"Does she know?"

"No, I didn't tell her."

"Good , I was afraid you would tell her especially since she doesn't go here." Toshi says, weakness in his voice. "I'm going to go take her to talk to the other pros in charge to see if we can get her to join the festival. I know you will do good Midoriya." He places a hand on Izuku's shoulder before going back to being All Might.

Before leaving he turns around and says, "Good luck."

—

Y/N hummed as she changed in the locker room. Ochako so happened to be there getting prepared. When Ochako spots her she immediately tries to avoid Y/N however Y/N's attention was somewhere else. She was just too excited for this opportunity.

When Ochako realized Y/N wasn't paying attention she stared at Y/N. Damn, she wouldn't blame Izuku if he did like Y/N. Y/N was beautiful and she looked so much better in the gym uniform then Ochako.

Y/N wore a sports bra only under the uniform because she wasn't prepared for this. Ochako saw this and thought she should do the same so Ochako took off her tank top and left her sports bra on with just the gym uniform on top.

Y/N turns, "Oh Uraraka! Guess what they're letting me compete in the festival." She smiled.

"Oh. I am happy for you. I hope you do well."

"You too! May the best one win." Y/N smiles friendly before leaving.

"Yeah may the best one win.." Ochako mutters knowing that she didn't want to just win the festival she also wanted to win Izuku's love and attention.

—

The festival contained of many challenges.

The first one was the obstacle course. Y/N ended up passing at number 15. That was only because she didn't use flight for it. She used her pure skills.

Next was the calvary battle. Y/N ended up being placed on team Todoroki. She was having so much fun she barely noticed it was a challenge.

Finally , it was one on ones. Y/N won her first round against Mina and she was super pleased by it. She didn't think she was that good with her quirk. But she had an advantage against Mina's acid. Acid is a chemical, and chemicals have energy.

It was time for Uraraka and Bakugou to fight and Uraraka was nevous before she went on so she went to Izuku.

But before she did she unzipped her uniform to show off her sports bra and then confronted him unfortunately Y/N was there.

"Oh Midoriya!" She exclaimed interrupting what Y/N and Izuku were talking about. "I have to fight Bakugou and I'm so gonna lose" She said almost in an almost too dramatic way.

"Let me help you come up with a pla–" Izuku tried to speak.

"I don't need your help with winning, I want to do this on my own. I know I can do it." Ochako say, "I'm just so nervous, can I have a hug before I go on?" She asks with pleading eyes.

Izuku and Ochako embrace for a solid 10 seconds before Y/N joins in. Then the unwanted group hug only lasts about 5 seconds.

"You're gonna do great Ochako! Bakugou just has a bigggggggg ego since forever. You're gonna win." Y/N smiled.

"Yeah, you are Ochako!" Izuku agrees.

"Thanks guys..." The "guy" thats came out her mouth was super bitter and she stared daggers at Y/N while she said it. However Y/N thought it was on accident so she smiled.

That almost frustrated Ochako past her limits. But made her think why is Y/N being so nice? Why can't Y/N back off OCHAKOS Izuku? Whatever it didn't matter.

Ochako hugged Izuku one more time before going to her battle. As she walked off she thought that if she did well it would impress Izuku and he will fall in love. Maybe she's being delusional but she won't give up on him.

Y/N and Izuku watched the painful battle of Ochako vs Bakugou. They were both putting on a strong fight but Bakugou was obviously winning.

"She needs to forfeit or she's gonna get seriously injured, Izuku."

"She's gonn—" He's cut off when Ochako hits the ground.

Y/N gasps and Izuku's eyes widen.

Midnight declares Ochako is unconscious, however leading Y/N and Izuku rushing down to recovery girl.

A few moments later Ochako's eyes fluttered open. She saw Y/N and Izuku next to her.

"Shes awake!" Y/N exclaimed. "Are you okay?"

Ochako stared blankly. Why was Y/N here? But she knew Izuku was here so she put on a little act, "Oh my..I'm in so much pain right now." She wasn't seriously lying, Recovery Girl can't fully help Ochako recover.

"You put on a good fight Uraraka! It's nice to see you awake however, I have to prepare to fight Todoroki in a little. I'll catch you guys later!" Izuku hugged Ochako and she became slightly flustered before he left the room.

Sitting down in a chair next to Uraraka, Y/N speaks, "That fight was so impressive! I could see your strategy. I wish you won it would have been so badass for you to beat Bakugou."

While Y/N kept complimenting Ochako and talking about the fight. Ochako realized something. Ever since Y/N came back she's just been jealous of her. When in reality she shouldn't have. Y/N has no bad intentions towards her, she just wants to be her friend. Imagine if Izuku knew what she thought of Y/N? He would hate her guts.

Realization.

"And the way you used your jacket for a—" Y/N was cut off by Ochako,

"Do you like Midoriya?" Ochako asks.

"Yes, he's my best—"

"I mean do you like him?" She exaggerates the like this time.

Y/N stops and thinks before answering.

"... It doesn't matter, I don't think he feels the same." The answer came out her mouth almost too quietly, but Ochako heard it.

"L/N," Ochako sat up, wincing from the little pain she had left and grabbing Y/N's hand. "The way he looks at you, the way he interacts with you, every time he interacts with you it's different from others. He doesn't just like you, I'm sure he loves you. You're the love of his life, you should tell him."

Y/N is speechless, "But don't you like him?"

"How'd you know?!?" Ochako becomes flustered.

"It's obvious."

"Then it's also obvious he doesn't like me back."

Y/N got up and helped Ochako get up. "I know you like him, but I don't want to get with him if you lik—"

"Please, who cares if I like him, I want him to be happy and he's obviously happy with you. So let's go watch him kick ass." Ochako smiled hooking her arms with Y/N's as they went to go watch Midoriya vs Todoroki.

—

"Aww you did so well , though." Ochako spoke, where Ochako, Y/N, and Izuku were all back with Recovery Girl.

"I agree." Y/N smiled.

"Thanks guys, I'm disappointed though."

"Next year, you're going to beat him for sure." Ochako says.

"Same goes for you beating Bakugou."

"Speaking of Bakugou," Y/N chimes in, "I'll avenge you right now. Cause guess who has to fight him."

The two stared at Y/N.

"He's super strong though." Midoriya spoke up.

"He may be strong but I'm sure I'm stronger." Y/N smiled.

"You got this girlie! If anyone can beat him it's you." Ochako smiled optimistically, and this time there was no bitterness.

—

Y/N stood in the ring across from Bakugou.

"We meet again Katsuki." Y/N smiles.

"Don't call me that."

"Hmm, I'll call you whatever I want after I beat you." Y/N smiles.

"The hell? You'll never beat me."

"Wanna bet?"

"Damn right, I do."

Y/N giggles, "I'll go easyy.."

Bakugou had enough of the talk he sent the first explosion towards her. Using acrobatic skills, she flipped out the way dodging the attack.

"Damn, thats all you got?"

"Fuck no."

Y/N flew up throwing bolts at Bakugou.

The two were fighting for a good 15 minutes. The area was smoky from not only Bakugou's explosions but Y/N's bolts and laser eyes.

Unfortunately, Y/N was beat by Katsuki by default because she absorbed too much energy and went manic.

—

When everyone recovered and everyone recovered it was time for Y/N to go home. Izuku was sad and so was Y/N. They didn't know the next time they would see each other and this made them both upset.

It was rainy, and they both stood under an umbrella waiting for the bus to take Y/N to the airport.

"You did awesome at the festival." She broke the silence.

"So did you." He spoke , but there was sadness in his voice.

"You know, I'm really proud of you and your quirk is amazing. I can't wait to see how hard you train and how good you are next time I see you." She smiled almost sadly, "And then I'll fight your that time."

He chuckles, "I hope you don't think you're gonna win."

"Trust me, I will."

The bus pulled up and the two looked even more sad.

"I guess this is it for who knows how long." Izuku turns and faces her.

"Don't be sad, Izuku. Our separation is only temporary. Remember, I'll come back and we will get married?" She cuffs his cheek.

He lit up a little, not thinking she remembered the promise. He melted into the touch of her hand while nodding.

They shared one last embrace,

"Goodbye, Y/N."

"Until we meet again, Izu."

The embrace broke but Y/N didn't walk off yet. What did was totally unexpected. She pecked his lips and ran on to the bus, "Call me later!"

Those were the last words he heard her say before he stood there flustered.

They wouldn't just marry each other in the future because they were best friends.

Izuku Midoriya found his true love, his soulmate, and he can't wait to see her again.

[romaevelizz]

Crush Culture˖ ࣪⊹

VII. Warmth

sum: him being patient as he waited till he could feel her touch again.

warnings: fluff, long distance,not proofread, dramatic reunion.

.˚₊‧ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ‧₊˚.

Laying on his back as he stare up at the ceiling, they had been texting for days. Constant calls, as they talked about any this even sitting in silences as they did their own thing the phone propped up. His eyes scanning the picture he’s collect if her through face time, may it be her sitting down doing her make up, washing her face, eating or drawing. How when she sat in her bed her legs crossed and she leaned over her iPad then complained that her back always hurt. How she’d answer the phone at any hour he called her, her sleepy voice echoing through his ears.

She learned that maybe he was a bit more clingy then he showed himself, him softly saying he missed her voice or wanted to see her face. How he asked over and over when she’d finally be down so he could see her.

Yamaguchi loved asking Kei about her asking how she was, watching as his best friend would grin softly giving him vague answer that soon turn into a small story, his smile never leaving his face. This didn’t go unnoticed by his family either how kei would walk down to the kitchen his face in his phone, a small giddy grin on his face that when mentioned he’d always say it was nothing. How he’d have his phone sitting on the table watching a messages she would send, god he missed her.

But he never voiced it maybe in subtle ways, how he’d ask when she’d come down finally getting a date out if you. That shed be coming up 4th of July weekend, he just had to wait a few more days. He wanted to tell her that he missed her but he couldn’t, he couldn’t wait till his stomach filled with butterflies when she kissed him. He couldn’t wait to hold her hand and touchher face again.

The ding of his phone made him sit up quickly grabbing his phone from the table next to the couch.

shit.. she talked about him a lot, why did he like. Why he said was bullshit. He did talk about you, to his dad.. wierd maybe but he knew he wouldn’t make a big deal out if it and constantly be in his business. As much as he loved his mother… he just couldn’t go to her but not he really didn’t have any other choice.

“Mom..” he hummed leaning on the arm looking at his mother who sat next to him curled up in a blanket as they watched a movie together.

“What’s up Kei?” She asked smile over at him.

“I need to tell you something, promise you won’t like freak out.” He muttered playing with his hands.

She shifted her position her back leaning against the arm, “what’s wrong honey?” She asked her tone a bit worried now.

He took a deep breath, “I’m talking to someone..”

“You have a girlfriend!” She spoke coving her mouth quickly after watching his face. “Sorry oh my gosh sorry! It exciting news when can I meet her when-“

“She’s gonna be up visiting from Tokyo tomorrow, she’s the reason I’ve been all in my phone.” He muttered pulling at the lose skin on his fingers.

She smiled “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before just nervous I guess, but I really do like her. She’s.. she’s really nice to be around and I like her attitude, I think you’ll like her a lot. She’s very family oriented, outgoing, pretty, smart and I could go on. But umm, she’s from Nekoma which is why she visiting, her and her family are coming up for the festival and staying with some family friends.” He spoke, he could feel his mother’s happiness radiating off of her as he did.

She knew her son’s perspective on relationships and girls and then hearing this made her happy. That he wasn’t afraid to let someone in, that he was willing to open himself to something new to a new person. That he really did like her, how his face flushed as he spoke about her. “Can I see some pictures?” She asked. Kei looked up, nodding as he grabbed his phone.

Showing pictures of her that he’d taken those ones either of her eating or some showing of an outfit, she was pretty. Her smile big in every photo he showed her, how her shoulder lifted when she had her hands on her hips. Others some she had sent him, her dark complexion so radiant, her eyes wide and a gorgeous smile plastered on her pretty features, her hair almost always styled. Her confidence in her own body and looks were so strong through a simple picture. Then in the other few her face was relaxed as she did whatever she was doing, Kei taking so pictures while she drew or baked her natural hair framing her face perfectly.

“She’s gorgeous Kei..”

“I know..” he said looking at the photos before looking back at her.

“Stop, mom don’t cry!” He panicked watching his mom’s lip quiver.

She waved her hands whipping her face “I can’t wait to meet her Baby.”

A subtle ding ring through her ears making her turn her body, picking up her phone she read

“My mom thinks you’re gorgeous by the way.”

A smile crept on her lips, ‘am I a girlfriend or someone you’re talking to.’

She watched as her phone began to ring picking it up his voice spoke up “You’re my Girlfriend.”

“Oh am I?” She giggled.

“Yes, and don’t be to disappointed, but I will ask you probably but I hate saying your someone I’m taking to because you are much more than that. Best fix. You’re my girlfriend.” He said.

“I’m perfectly fine with that..” she hummed pausing, “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Tomorrow evening right?”

“Yes we’re riding the train up.” He could hear her smile.

“So I’ll meet you at the train station?”

“I would love that..” she said “I would like that a lot..”

“Good, you better get to sleep..”

“Goodnight kei.” She muttered.

“I’m sorry who?” He sassed, earning a laugh from her.

“Goodnight Stalker.” She scoffed.

“Mm goodnight brat..” he said. The line dying once she hung up, a big sigh leaving his lips as he fell back onto his bed.

He would get to see her tomorrow, all he had to do was wait. And god would waiting be worth it, worth watching her face light up once she saw him dropping her luggage before running over to him. Him smiling as she ran over to him his smile like a frown smile. The feeling of her weight on him as she latched onto him her arms wrapping around his back as he lifted her off the ground a bit. His hind on her becoming tighter as his head fell into her neck taking in her sent. God he missed her smell, the warmth of her body. She pulled back smiling kissing his face, as he hands held him gently.

“Ugh I’ve missed your grouchy face!” She smiled.

“ I’ve missed you too..” he muttered his eyes meeting hers, he watched her eyes look down to the flowers in his hand.

“They’re for you!” He spoke nervously handing her the flowers, a pretty bouquet all of her favorite flowers.

“They’re gorgeous,” she smiled taking them, her eyes meeting his. “So this is yo lil Boyfriend!” A women said from behind her.

“Kei this is my older sister Vanessa,” she sighed.

“You ready to meet everyone else?” She asked grabbing his hand.

He gulped nodding.

Shaking hands with her dad was the scariest part, he was by no means a small man he was well over 6’3 big and burly, his arms decorated in tattoos, his head bald. But even when her father gave him a smile he still wanted to shit his pants. Her mother was also a bit nerve racking, but she was kind offering him a kind smile from the beginning. Her older brothers trying to be intimidated but came off as dicks only to apologize after. Her two older sisters smiling teasing poor kei, then her younger siblings, Caleb being rhetorical only one who glared at him for a minute shaking his hand he watched as he gave you a side glace causing you to punch him. The two youngest were just polite having manners they new they needed with new people.

“Not that bad hm?”

“Your dad definitely made me piss my pants same with Michael..” he muttered.

“Please Micky is harmless!”

She laughed watching the blond sigh he head falling a bit, as he grabbed her bag. Her hands grabbing his face kissing his lips softly, before they began to walk. God it was so easy to make his heart flutter.

“Do you have a friend Kei?” She asked suddenly looking up from her phone.

“Why..?”

“Well the family friend I’m staying with is my best friend butttt I wanna hang out with you, but she also wants to kind hangout with me so she asked if you had a friend so she wasn’t third wheeling.?” She smiled.

A double date, hmm. Doesn’t sound bad plus he’d get to spend the evening with her and he just had to drag Tadashi along.. “I’ll ask. But I could make it work what time do you wanna meet up? I know you’re close to me.”

He nodded “yeah we could head down to the night market I know the have some carnival stuff going on for the festival. Rides, games hella food!” She spoke happily.

“Yeah I’ll get him on borde.” He spoke the feeling of her fingers linking with his making him stutter.

“Perfect then! It’s a Two Man!”

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Pretty like the sun

Previous chapter / Next chapter

a/n the follow up chapter AND This is pretty like the wind series spin offs. This can be read as standalone all you need to know is that Azriel has two adoptive kids with OC - Zofie and Axel. Future stories related to them might include stories specifically decided to Azriel hence why I am taging it as Azriel story too. Don't come at me please. ✨

warning: none? A bit of fighting, blood.

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Zofie's pov:

She had been beaming all morning. Not only had it been the best sleep of her life, but there was something so surreal about waking up in the arms of a man you had the biggest crush on. There was a moment when Zofie was sure that it was her sleepy brain playing a trick on her. That Nyx wasn't there with her. They weren't actually in the same situation. Limbs tangled. But Nyx's arms, which had quite a firm hold on her hips, felt all too real. His breathing did, too. So did his messy hair and slightly pouty lips.

How did one look so adorable in their sleep? Mother, he would be a frowning mess if she called him cute. But he was, and Zofie had to try really hard to suppress the giddy excitement that bubbled in her chest. Nuzzling back into the crook of Nyx's neck, she breathed in his scent. Feeling her body melt into it. Oh, how she missed him when he was away. How oddly lonely she felt. Truth be told, Zofie didn't have many friends. A couple of younger priestesses that Gwyn was teaching, yes, but they practically never talked. So... not friends. But Nyx had always been so keen on getting her attention. She was weary of him at first. He was the most talkative kid she had ever seen. But then Zofie only had a handful of traumatized sanctuary toddlers to compare him to. His bubbly side chipped away with the years, though. More often than not, the smile that was plastered on Nyx's face was nowhere near the smile he used to give her when they were younger.

"You're the cuddliest person I've come across in my entire life," Nyx grumbled, opening one eye to look at her. "So, if I pulled away now..." Zofie muttered, but Nyx's grip on her tightened immediately, "Don't you even think about it?" His morning voice was raspy and, oh, so delicious. "Got you," Zofie breathed out, shaking her head. He never denied her touch. She could watch him roll his eyes at Feyre kissing his cheek, but the next minute he would be right next to Zofie, his fingers subtly reaching for her as their palms brushed against one another.

"Do you think if I don't open my eyes, we can pretend that we don't have to go back?" Nyx muttered, and Zofie could sense the dread in his tone. "Your mom probably misses you a lot," she said softly. "Cause Ma always cries when Axel comes home, so I'm sure the high lady would..." "Don't." Nyx's whole body stiffened. Zofie frowned as specks of red fell onto the sheets. He was mad. Or frustrated, at least. "Did something happen?" Her voice grew weary, and Nyx's face grew ashamed. Hands pulling the girl back to his chest, "Promise it's nothing; I'm sorry, just tired," he breathed out. She didn't say anything after that. Letting the silence stretch over them both.

"My... The high lords are hosting a ball", and Nyx sounded as if this was the most dreadful thing he had to make himself think about once again. Zofie quickly cut in, "You don't want to go?". Nyx huffed, "Something like that." She never really understood if the high lords of the night court enjoyed the festivities themselves. Rhys, Nyx's dad, was a charmer, always quick to tell a joke. His grin never failed at balls and parties. But Zofie had caught him once. Head in hands. Messy hair. Wrinkled shirt. It was such a difference compared to that beaming smile she had seen on her high lord's face only moments ago. "Well, Axel and I will probably be there if our parents are going," Zofie breathed out, hoping to ease some of the tension, but Nyx simply shook his head. "I have a feeling it's the lordship shit," the heir growled before explaining even further, "Preppy parents in desperate need to marry off their children to form bonds between courts."

And here it was. This was the thing Nyx hated with a burning passion. All he wanted was to be normal. A young man still so full of life not some crystal gem for everyone to drool over. He cringed and frowned at all the titles people threw his way. And Zofie... Zofie hated every single female who felt entitled to come and touch him, pull at his hands, and rub at him like cats in heat. "Oh, Nyx," she breathed, her fingers carefully brushing through his hair. His fingers grazed her wrist tenderly. "Everyone is making such a big fuss over it too," he admitted as Zofie nodded in agreement. No wonder he was stressed. Especially if he was also to be left alone. Only with nobility to keep him company all night long.

"Bitch your way through it," Zofie muttered, and Nyx let out the most genuine chuckles she had heard in a while. But it had also died down as quickly as it started, "Will you tell me why you were by the river last night?" Zofie knew this was coming. Nyx had a hard time letting go of the topics he wanted to discuss. And he had been more than clear that he was going to get the answer out of her about this. So fighting this...

"I have a sister," Zofie breathed, her eyes falling to the crisp white sheets on the bed. Nyx shifted slightly, his hand dipping beneath the blanket to run soothingly up her thigh, "I hear a sad note in that," he muttered. And Zofie hated that. She hated that she was still upset over something she genuinely wanted. She didn't care much about having to share her parents' attention for a while. It was everything else that ticked her off. "She's perfect", Zofie let out a deep sigh, "Has wings, no flaws. She's perfectly Azriel's". Her voice died down, overpowered by the growl Nyx had let out. "Has that asshole?", "No, no, I just... it's me," Zofie shook her head, "I felt... irrelevant.".

The room fell silent. She watched as Nyx blinked a couple of times, letting her words sink in, "Don't you talk shit like that about yourself?" His voice had an edge to it. A powerful force. "But it's true; I'm Illyrian but have no wings," Zofie muttered, turning to play with her fingers instead. Admitting her fears and insecurities felt humiliating almost. "I'll always be your wings," Nyx's much bigger palm cupped hers, giving it a little squeeze. "What have I done to deserve you, huh?" Zofie chuckled slightly, hoping to mask the sting in her eyes. Nyx crooked his head to the side. Watching her for a moment, "You didn't have to do anything. I'm the one who's lucky that you were born.".

Nyx's pov:

They had laughed through the whole flight back to the city. And the closer they got, the more Nyx dreaded it. He didn't care much about the shit he was going to get from Rhys. But it's the letting go part that pressed against his chest. He knew, for a fact, that if not tonight, then by the next morning they would be ushered back into the camps up the mountain. Yes, he was happy to learn and to earn a rank, but leaving her here felt like a dreadful task. Not to mention that they weren't allowed to write letters while they were up there. Not to mention that Nyx had a whole box of letters he had written for Zofie. Ones he had written while up there. Ones that no one would ever see.

Zofie had asked him to drop her off at the edge of the forest near the house. "Better if you don't just walk in. You know my dad," she said. However, Nyx felt it the minute Zofie's legs hit the snow beneath her. He had barely let go of her when the claws of darkness pulled him back, nearly sending him to his feet. But he expected this. Escaping the spymaster under the protection of his father's wards was one thing. The moment they were on the perimeter of Velaris, well, let's say that was Azriel's hunting territory. And that male always hunted as if he were starving.

Nyx had seen Azriel pissed more than once, but the frown on his face this time was unmatched. And accompanied by the dark circles beneath his eyes. Yeah, he looked as if he was out for blood. "You forgot yours, young man," the spymaster said through gritted teeth as his shadows roped around the princeling's ankles and wrists.

"Dad, that's enough." Zofie stomped through the thick snow, trying to get in between the two of them. Nyx wished she wasn't there. He hated it when she was there to witness their snarls. "You lost all sense of fun, uncle," Nyx said mockingly. His own hands grew dark, seizing the spymaster's dark, as cold gloominess chased all of Azriel's shadows away. "You had no right to take her like that," Azliel bit back; his wings were arched in a warning, but Nyx didn't skip a beat, doing just the same.

"No one took me," Zofie growled with a huff. And it was the way Azriel had turned back to look down at her that broke the last sense of logic within Nyx. It was the way his big frame looked toward her when Azriel snared, "I wasn't speaking to you, young lady," that undid Nyx. "Why?", he asked bitterly, "Because you forgot that she existed? The new child has already taken too much of your time?". It felt as if the whole world had stopped. Even the snowflakes seemed to have seized in their fall. "Nyx..." he said, meeting Zofie's pleading eyes. Saw her shaking her head in disapproval. But he was truly seeing red. No one had a right to make her. Make his sunshine feel small.

"What did you just say?" Azriel frowned, slightly taken back, but his demeanor was still predatory. The princeling only growled back at the shadowsinger. "Nyx for fuck sake," Zofie pleaded, panic raising to her features as she moved closer to her dad in hopes of putting distance between them. But it was for nothing when Nyx muttered, "You heard me loud and clear, spymaster." Nyx managed to spare Zofie one look. One look before his vision was interrupted by black dots as his head was wiped to the side from the impact. Zofie's shriek pierced the silence, rippling over every surface.

Nyx knew that, in a way, he deserved it, so it didn't surprise him. He had been messing with the habitat of fae males. One who had just become a father. One who's instinct to protect was on such high alert. But he had to. Had to stand up for her. "Papa, please," Zofie pleaded. Nyx wiped the warm liquid trickling down the side of his lip. Oh, he was not going to go down without a fight. "Please, let's just go home. Please, I'm sorry". Her tiny hands were grasping at Azriel's hands, trying to pull him back. "Don't you apologize for him," Nyx snarled, but Zofie's firey eyes met his as she muttered, "Shut up." Only now did Nyx notice the tears streaming down her rosy cheeks. Only now did he see the quiver in her chin.

"Zof," Nyx breathed out, but the girl had simply turned her back on him. "Come on, papa, please," she pleaded once more, and this time it was enough to get Azriel's attention. His chest was still heavy as he breathed through his anger. "If I ever catch you doing anything like this," Azriel snarled, stepping forward to look at Nyx, but Zofie pushed back, putting all of her weight against her dad. "Consider yourself fucking lucky." Azriel flapped his wings a couple of times before reaching for Zofie's hand, tugging her alongside him as the shadows swallowed them both.

Your pov:

Quite frankly, you knew something was wrong from the moment you looked up to see Zofie's pale face when Novie was born. And deep down, you knew that this insecurity that was quite clearly blooming right in front of you was inevitable. You just didn't know it would take a turn like that. Zofie had always been good about voicing her discomfort, and you had always encouraged her to speak her mind, but it seemed as if your love had been lost in the shuffle of it all.

You knocked on her bedroom door gently. It's been a couple of hours since she and Azriel got back home. Your mate, mostly thanks to his lack of sleep, assumed that you both hadn't noticed your girl not being home and, and then hadn't felt them coming home. It was the stench of anger that was dripping from Azriel that was enough to let you know that a fight must have happened. And this sort of frustration as of lately was only brought on by one person.

Without getting an answer, you just let yourself in after a while. Zofie was curled up in a ball, and the blanket Azriel had knitted for her was tightly wrapped around her. That fact must have slipped her mind, considering the fight the two have been in. Sitting down on the very edge, you let your fingers gently brush through Zofie's dark waves.

"Sweetness, why don't you eat up? It's lunchtime", you said gently, nodding towards the plate of warm food you had brought up for her. She simply shook her head, turning away from your touch. A sharp ache pierced your heart. If your children were hurting, so were you. You climbed into the bed, nudging her slightly as you moved to wrap your arms around the girl. Let her be the little spoon.

Zofie laid as still as a statue for a moment before her arms snaked around yours. "Now he will never love me again," Zofie's voice was barely a whisper, but you still managed to hear her perfectly well. "Who, baby?" you asked, running your fingers up and down her arm. She stilled for a moment before looking up to catch your gaze and saying, "Papa." A breath hitched in your throat. "Lovie," you muttered.

Zofie quickly shuffled, sitting up. "First, I don't have wings; now he thinks I'm sneaking behind his back with Nyx," she blurted out in a rush, "And I'm not, I promise." She caught your arm, shaking it slightly. You cupped her face softly and said, "There is nothing wrong with you falling in love." Her face scrunched up so hard that you almost had to laugh. "I'm not in love. I'm not", she stated. "Okay, okay," you muttered, tapping her cheek playfully.

"And Azriel loves you, Zo." Your tone was much firmer now. You understood the fears. Mother, even you still had them. Wondering why? Why had Azriel chosen you, and what did he see in you? So for a teenager to have emotions like that, "He had loved you from the moment he saw you," you added.

Zofie bit her lip as if contemplating her next words for a moment, "But his yellow is fading", she admitted. Her colors. She found comfort in them, but good things usually come with baggage. Understanding the amount of emotion there was still a hard task. "That doesn't mean he stopped loving you. Maybe the color is evolving. Shifting into something different", you said softly. You made a mental note to ask her tutor to find her a book about the colors of emotions to read. Well, one that she hadn't already devoured.

"Hate," those silent words, made your mind halt. You shook your head. "Love has different forms; you'll learn that along the way," You reached up to carefully take her necklace between your fingers. "Papa is on edge right now because a lot of things are changing. He's sensitive because he's lost so much already. Losing all of us would break him without repair." It felt like a lot to unload on her, but she had to see that Azriel's love hadn't just faltered or disappeared because of Novie. Thinking like wings, no wings, scars on no, even the blood bond didn't matter to Azriel. Zofie pinched her eyebrows. "Is he home?", she breathed, "I need to...", "He's out on his broody walk, but I'm sure he'll be back soon," you said softly, reaching for the plate and handing it to her. She was desperate to make sure that she had at least some food in her stomach.

Nyx pov:

He had lost track of how long he had been flying. Nor did he know where he was going, but regardless of his endless attempts to escape it, Nyx knew that he would have to go home eventually. A part of him hoped that Rhys wouldn't have been able to sniff this one out, but then Nyx had lost track of his uncle fairly early on. So Azriel could have already been stomping his foot in his father's office.

"Purple truly suits you." As if on cue, Rhys's voice rang out. He was seated in front of a fireplace. A drink in hand. His usual black button-up shirt hugged his skin. Nyx didn't hate his father. He hated the high-lord aspect of him. Yes, he was different from most. Mother, spare anyone from a father like Beron, but... he still valued his position a bit too much at times. Nyx simply shook his head, shifting to move toward the back patio, but his father's voice stopped him, "I don't remember letting you walk away.".

Nyx let out a bitter chuckle, "Oh, so now I am to obey you too, like a servant?" It was bitter; he knew it. But Nyx just wasn't in the mood—wasn't in the mood to deal with any of this right now. "You're my son," Rhys stated firmly, his purple eyes gleaming. "Doesn't that just suit your story?" Nyx barked back, matching his father's glare. "Nyx," Rhys said in a warning tone, but the princeling was already walking. "I'll be with Mom," he breathed over his shoulder.

The wind that hit his face as he stepped outside soothed his heated cheeks. He always loved the walk towards his mother's gallery. It had always been his favorite time of the day when the two of them would go there. Gods, did he need to clear his head. Anything. Everything. All he could think of was her. Yet... two hands clasped his shoulders, making Nyx quickly spin back, putting whoever was behind him in a chokehold.

"Well, dang, you're on edge, my man," a familiar voice rasped out, and Nyx instantly let go, pushing the figure forward. "What the hell are you doing here?", he whispered. Axel simply smirked before shrugging, even if his eyes lingered on the library door for a bit too long. "I came to see how my dad painted your face," Axel chuckled, "Pretty." Nyx simply flipped his friends off and said, "Fuck off." Yet the corners of his lips did twitch slightly. Axel always had that effect on him. It was hard to not smile around him.

"She's okay," Axel muttered, making Nyx's eyes snap up at him. Yet he refused to give in to it. "I don't care," he said simply. Axel raised one eyebrow at his friend, tilting his head to the side, and, "Right, so you wouldn't care if I told you that mom got her to eat, and she's much calmer now." Nyx's shoulders eased a bit. Eased almost immediately. A calmness like no other washed over him as he nodded in agreement.

"She asked about you." Now these words struck a chord with Nyx, and his big eyes were instantly searching for Axel. "Did she?", Nyx breathed out desperately. Axel simply chuckled, slowly shaking his head, "No, but I love proving a point." Nyx let out a growl, "I'm so kicking your ass on the sparring mat." But he couldn't help but smile now. Because Axel knew him. And in a way, this was his silent way of approving. Or at least not stepping between him and Zofie.

But Axel's eyes lingered behind his friend, and Nyx's eyes instantly followed suit. Only he caught sight of white robes slipping back inside the library. Nyx instantly turned back to face Axel. "What was that?", he questioned. Axel blinked a couple of times, "What was what?". Oh, but Nyx wasn't stupid. "That look," he muttered, motioning his hand towards Axel's face, "Are you fucking a prestress?" Axel frowned at the question instantly, his eyes finally moving to gaze at his friend, "What the hell, man, wash your mouth." Nyx chuckled slightly, but he knew deep down that the moment they were going to be better on the camp walls, he was going to get his answers one by one. Now all he needed was his sun. His Sunny and for some reason risking a black eye didn't seem that big of a sacrifice.

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Taglist: @sirenpearldust @historygeekqueen @hnyclover @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @naturakaashi @stressed-reader @woodland-mist @goldenmagnolias @nocasdatsgay

[wholoveseggs]

HIIII DARLING!! it’s me and i’d love to request a 3some (f!reader) with Elijah and Kol. my birthday just passed so can i make it into a christmas birthday celebration and reader’s presents are her two men? make it as smutty as you’d love it to be with a sprinkle of christmas in there. please and thank you!! 🤍💋

Birthday Lessons

18+ ---- {Masterlist}

☆♡☆HAPPY NEW YEAR☆♡☆

On your birthday night at Rousseau's, tension fills the air as Kol and Elijah compete for your attention, promising a celebration like no other.

~♡♡ Happy belated birthday Aurora ♡♡ I hope you enjoy this little ménage à trois!~

5k words - Warnings: drinking, blow jobs, dp, tiiiny bit of choking, Kol being a huge flirt, Elijah being Elijah ♡

You never imagined it could actually happen; you felt far too shy to initiate or boldly tell them what you want. Elijah's politeness and Kol's cockiness leave no room for either of them to propose anything. So, in your quiet desperation, you settle for the little affection you are given and try to ignore the ache. Instead, you let the idea linger in your mind, a fantasy building up slowly each day.

That is until one evening, on your birthday no less, you find yourself at Rousseau's. It's a Friday night, and the bar is brimming with lively festive energy. The soft glow of Christmas lights hangs overhead, jazz music plays softly, and the sound of chattering and laughing bounces off the walls. Sipping on your second drink of the night while Elijah tells you about his day.

You love to hear him speak; it could be about literally anything, and it's always interesting. He is just so formal—not that you mind; his diction is sexy. Hearing him say words that most people would abbreviate and shorten, using lengthy and flattering expressions instead, just does something to you. He makes everything seem important and interesting; his speech is so gentlemanly and polite. You like his authority and command over words.

You listen to him intently, laughing every now and then at something he says. Sitting next to each other in a booth, knees touching due to the cramped space. He places his hand on your thigh as he starts another sentence, running his thumb back and forth along the skin exposed by your short dress.

This little touch alone is making you wet. He is good, knowing exactly what to do. Just enough to keep you wanting more without building up the anticipation too much. A fleeting, lust-filled thought of him bending you over and pounding into you goes through your mind. You try to pay attention to what he is saying, but you can't help your imagination.

That is when Kol walks in, ordering a drink from the bar then leaning against it, casually sipping on bourbon as he scans the crowd. He sees you, and his eyes light up, smiling, raising his glass to you before finishing his drink and heading in your direction, weaving his way through the crowd. You raise your eyebrows, and Elijah lets out a sigh as he turns his head to look at the cause of the sudden interruption.

"Hello, darlings," he says when he reaches the table. Without invitation, he sits down next to you, sandwiching you between the two of them.

“Happy birthday, pretty Aurora,” He adds, leaning in to give you a kiss on the cheek. He places his hand on your knee, fingertips tracing circular patterns along your thigh as he leans back and looks to his brother. Elijah's jaw tightens, his lips pursing together. Kol does not even bother to hide his smug expression. He knows just how to push his brother's buttons. “Enjoying your night?”

"We were," Elijah states, and Kol laughs at the agitation in his tone. He turns back to you, looking you up and down appreciatively, clearly undressing you with his eyes.

"Don't mind me," he says with an innocent smile. Elijah's brows furrow, and his jaw clenches as he looks away, clearly annoyed, but you don't mind this new arrangement at all.

"Kol, dear brother, do you not have somewhere you need to be?" Elijah asks after a while.

"What's the problem, Elijah? You don't like me spending time with your girl?" Kol teases.

You nearly spit out your drink; you and Elijah were barely in the talking stage, far too soon for anyone to be calling you his girl. But Elijah doesn't correct Kol; instead, he just glares at him. Kol smirks, knowing exactly the reaction he'd receive from his brother. He decides to take it further.

He leans back into your ear, running his fingers along your thigh now. He nibbles at your earlobe playfully, inhaling the scent of your hair. You feel hot, already dizzy from the three drinks you've consumed. But now, you're really feeling like you could use another. Kol's hand moves up further, creeping under your dress slightly and rubbing your inner thigh.

You push him away, uncomfortable with his aggressive flirting. "Kol, stop it," you say softly.

"I apologize for my brother; he has always had the subtlety of an elephant," Elijah says. He doesn't look at you but rather focuses on Kol, who is glaring back at him.

You just shrug, thinking they are both being ridiculous. You take a sip of your drink, trying to ignore Elijah's hand that is now squeezing your thigh possessively.

"And I apologize for my brother, for being so incredibly uptight that he can't even handle a little teasing," Kol says.

You put down your drink, a rush of heat coursing through you as the realization of what is going on hits you. Is Kol really flirting with you, or is he doing it to piss off his brother? Elijah's grip tightens on your thigh, and you run your hand along his forearm soothingly. He relaxes his muscles, his eyebrows lifting as he looks down at where you are touching him. His hand leaves your thigh, and he sips at his drink; Kol then lets out a hearty laugh.

You look back and forth between the two of them, feeling uncertain about how to proceed. The tension and excitement of their proximity and undivided attention are turning you on immensely. 

A huge grin spreads on Kol's face; he places his palm on your leg again and digs his fingers into your skin. You keep your hands in your lap, eyeing his palm and wondering if you should just leave. But truthfully, you don't want to leave. Maybe it's the alcohol or the fact that your secret desire finally has a possibility of becoming real.

As he goes to slide his hand up your thigh once more, Elijah seizes his wrist, squeezing it hard enough that his knuckles turn white. Kol cries out in pain, reaching his free hand down to loosen his grip.

"Elijah, it's alright," you say, not wanting things to escalate. "Can you both just chill out? I can't stand all this posturing," you say firmly, gently pulling Kol's wrist free from Elijah's hand.

"Whatever you'd like, doll, it is your birthday after all," Kol says, rubbing his sore wrist. Elijah leans back in his seat and signals to the waitress to bring him another drink.

You decide that instead of being annoyed at their behavior, you are going to take advantage of it. They both clearly desire you, and you know exactly how to manipulate the situation to fulfill your fantasy. You finish off your drink, using the liquid courage to finally get a little risky.

"Elijah, as the older brother, what advice would you give Kol on his rather aggressive flirting style?" you ask.

Kol huffs, laughing through his nose and smiling to himself as he looks off to the side. Elijah runs his finger over the rim of his now full glass, thinking for a moment.

"There is a place for his style of flirting, but in order to truly understand a woman's needs and satisfaction, it requires selflessness and patience," he says evenly, tipping his head forward as he speaks, his voice slightly deeper than usual.

"Please, Elijah, do explain," Kol counters, sipping his own drink, trying to hide his annoyance at his older brother's condescending attitude. Elijah's eyes never leave your face. He leans towards you, so that his lips are merely inches from your ear.

"To truly please a woman, I believe the best approach is to start off slow," Elijah whispers, "tease her just enough to make her wet, but not enough to make her cum."

You can't help the thrill of arousal that runs down your spine at the sound of his voice and the words that he is speaking. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, desiring to maintain some sort of control in the situation.

"Would you say Kol's methods are too... hasty?" you ask, trying to keep your voice even.

"I'm afraid so," Elijah replies, leaning back slightly.

You turn to Kol, who is still sipping at his drink and looking rather disinterested. You reach out and put your palm on his knee. He looks up at you, his eyes narrowing as a smirk crosses his face.

"Care to defend yourself?" you ask, raising your brow at him.

"Well, Elijah isn't exactly known for his flirting skills either," Kol drawls. "He tends to silently pine for a woman rather than properly seducing her."

"Sounds like you could both learn from each other," you state. You can hardly hold back your smile as you take in the sight of them. Playing them both like a fiddle, and it was almost too easy.

"I've always believed the best way to learn is through practice," you say slowly, drawing out your words with the most innocent tone you could muster. You remove your hand from Kol's knee and stand up. The two brothers watch you for a brief moment, eyeing you carefully. Elijah then quickly stands and moves out of the way, letting you walk past him.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, but you muster the courage to turn around, trying to keep your composure. "Well, what are you waiting for?" You ask, looking back and forth between them.

The two vampires stare at each other, their eyes narrowed in silent communication. They look back at you and without hesitation, follow you towards the door. You lead them outside, hoping that the night air would cool you down. You need to keep your wits about you; otherwise, you are certain you'd melt into a puddle right there on the snow-covered sidewalk.

The twinkling lights and festive decorations add a magical touch to the atmosphere as you walk down the street. It had taken you forever to gain the courage to seduce them, you wanted them both, so badly, and now you could hardly believe that your fantasy was coming true.

The three of you walk in silence; you don't even know where you are going, but neither of the men seems to care. They keep an even pace behind you but stay a few feet apart, making it obvious that they still want nothing to do with each other.

Christmas carols echo from distant shops, and the scent of cinnamon fills the crisp air. Dark clouds are gathering, and they hurried through the crowded streets, dodging couples, last-minute shoppers, and revelers as they go by. The occasional snowflake drifts down, adding a touch of winter magic to the scene.

You stop for a moment and turn to face them, "Where?" you ask, trying to sound confident and casual. You can feel your body heating up, the alcohol mixed with the excitement and your own lust creating an intoxicating blend that clouds your thoughts.

"The compound," Elijah said. You nod, your stomach fluttering at the thought of what was to come. They continue walking, heading towards their home. It's only a few blocks away, and you make it there quickly, all of you eager to be behind closed doors.

The snow starts to fall in earnest, the flakes sticking to your hair and eyelashes. You're grateful when you finally arrive, brushing the snow off your jacket and entering the house, taking off your boots and jacket in the foyer. Kol and Elijah remove their jackets, hanging them neatly next to yours, and the three of you walk towards the library.

You take a seat on one of the leather sofas. Kol walks over to the bar and grabs a bottle of bourbon and a glass, pouring himself a generous amount before taking a large swig. Elijah sits down across from you, leaning back with his arms outstretched as he looks at you intently.

"So, how do you want to proceed, darling?" Elijah asked.

"How does one proceed when they are about to fuck a girl silly with their younger brother?" you ask bluntly, the alcohol and anticipation making you feel bolder than usual.

"Such a filthy mouth, and yet so beautiful," Kol said as he poured himself another drink. Elijah was unfazed by your brash words, and he stood up, moving to sit next to you.

"I suggest we start off slow," Elijah said softly, placing a finger under your chin and gently tilting your head upwards, leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours.

You kissed him back, savoring the taste of his lips and the softness of his tongue. He tasted like bourbon, and the kiss was sweet and gentle.

"Don't hog her," Kol said. Elijah pulled away, and you looked over at Kol, watching as he approached the sofa. He set his drink down, settling down in front of you, parting your legs gently as he moved closer to you.

"You look gorgeous," Kol whispered against your lips. You smiled, and he kissed you, his hands gripping your hips as his lips moved against yours. His kiss was rough and hungry, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

Your heart was beating wildly, and you were almost certain the two of them could hear it, but you didn't care. All you cared about was the way their lips felt against yours, the way their hands were roaming your body, and the way their eyes were darkening with lust.

Kol broke the kiss, and you opened your eyes, staring up at him. He smiled, and then his gaze shifted over to Elijah.

"Any pointers?" He asked sarcastically. Elijah chuckled, and you looked back and forth between both of them, a smirk crossing your face. Elijah reached his hand out and tilted your face back towards him, pressing his lips against yours once more.

You could feel Kol's hands slowly traveling up your legs, his fingertips brushing against the bare skin of your thighs. Elijah's lips trailed from your mouth to your jawline, peppering soft kisses along your skin.

You gasped as you felt Kol's fingers brush against the crotch of your panties, rubbing your clit through the fabric. Elijah took advantage of your parted lips and slipped his tongue into your mouth, his kiss growing more passionate and demanding.

Kol's fingers slipped beneath your panties, his fingertips tracing circles around your clit, causing you to moan into Elijah's mouth.

"So hasty, Kol," Elijah said, his lips brushing against your jaw as he spoke.

"She doesn't seem to mind," Kol replied. You let out a soft moan, the feeling of their hands on you, their lips on your skin, was driving you wild.

"Do you want me to show Kol how it's supposed to be done?" Elijah asked, his lips trailing down your neck.

"Yes," you whispered, your voice shaking with arousal. Elijah chuckled, and you felt him move away from you. Kol's fingers continued their teasing, and you moaned softly, arching your back as he slipped one inside you.

"Oh fuck," you said breathlessly. Kol smirked and leaned forward, his lips brushing against your ear.

"That's what I thought," he said smugly.

"Please Kol, would you mind?" Elijah asked. You could hear the amusement in his voice, and you opened your eyes, looking at the two men. Kol rolled his eyes and removed his fingers from you, moving back and sitting on the adjacent sofa.

"Show me how it's done then," Kol said mockingly.

Elijah's hands moved to your waist, and he lifted you up, setting you down on his lap so that you were straddling him. You could feel his cock pressing against you, and you shifted your hips, rubbing yourself against him.

"Be patient," Elijah said, his lips curving into a smirk. He kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands roamed your body. You ran your hands up his chest, and you could feel his muscles tense under your touch.

"Take off your clothes," Elijah commanded. You obliged, lifting your dress up over your head and tossing it onto the floor. You reached back and unclasped your bra, letting it fall to the floor as you exposed your breasts.

"Beautiful," Elijah murmured, his eyes raking over your body. You blushed and moved your hands down to his shirt, undoing the buttons one by one.

Once his shirt was fully open, you trailed your hands down his chest, your fingertips brushing against his hard muscles. You bit your lip as you felt his cock twitch beneath you.

Elijah took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking on it gently. Your head fell back, and a low moan escaped your lips as his teeth grazed your skin. He switched to your other nipple, and you rolled your hips against him, seeking friction.

"Patience," he said again, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. He kissed his way up your chest, along your neck, and then up to your ear. "Stand up and take off your panties," he whispered.

You obeyed, standing up and shimmying out of your underwear. Elijah looked up at you, his eyes dark and hungry. In one swift move, Elijah grabbed you by your waist, and pinned you underneath him on the sofa. You let out a surprised yelp, but then your body relaxed, enjoying the feeling of his bare skin pressed against yours.

"I'm going to teach my brother a lesson," Elijah said, his voice low and seductive. "I'm going to make you cum so hard that you'll forget he's even here," he promised. You let out a whimper as his hands slid down your body, parting your legs slowly.

"You see Kol, patience and precision are the keys to truly pleasing a woman," Elijah said, his eyes never leaving your face. He leaned down and pressed his lips against your neck, kissing and sucking your sensitive skin.

"I don't see how this is any different than what I was doing," Kol countered. You could feel Elijah's lips curve into a smile against your skin, and you moaned as his finger slipped inside you, stroking you just right.

"That's the problem, you don't see," Elijah said, his thumb rubbing slow circles around your clit. Kol sighed and took a sip of his drink, shaking his head as he watched his older brother work.

“You're both being ridiculous,” you muttered, your eyes closing as pleasure began to wash over you.

"Hush, sweetheart," Elijah whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. His fingers continued to work, his pace steady and perfect.

"Are you going to cum for me, darling?" He asked, his voice thick with lust. You nodded, and he sped up his movements, fucking you with his fingers.

"Fuck, yes," you moaned. Your orgasm hit you hard, your hips bucking and your back arching as pleasure surged through your body.

Elijah pulled his fingers out and licked them clean, smiling down at you. 

"Delicious," he said, his eyes darkening. 

"So, am I dismissed, or should I stick around for the main course?" Kol asked. Elijah chuckled, his eyes never leaving you.

"I think Kol feels left out," he said. You smirked, reaching up and pulling him down, kissing him hard. 

"Do you think I should help him out?" You asked.

Elijah smiled and moved off of you, allowing you to get up. You turned to Kol, kneeling down in front of him, your hands moving to his belt. He looked down at you, his eyes wide and his breathing heavy.

"I'm sorry, Kol, I didn't mean to ignore you," you said innocently, unbuckling his belt and tugging down his pants and boxers. His cock sprung free, and you wrapped your hand around it, stroking him slowly. You looked into his eyes, licking your lips and smirking.

"Can I make it up to you?" You asked sweetly, your hand moving faster. Kol nodded, his eyes full of desire.

You leaned down, taking his cock into your mouth. You could taste the pre-cum on his tip, and you swirled your tongue around him, taking him deeper into your mouth. Elijah sat down next to him, freeing his erection from his pants and stroking himself, watching the scene unfold.

"Fuck, you're good at that," Kol moaned, his hand tangling in your hair. You hummed in response, the vibration causing him to moan louder. You continued to suck him, bobbing your head and taking him as deep as you could. He let out a groan, and you felt him twitch in your mouth. You pulled away, not wanting him to cum just yet.

"Did you enjoy that?" You asked, your hand continuing to stroke him. 

"God yes," Kol said breathlessly. You turned your attention to Elijah, who was still touching himself. You crawled over to him, pushing his hand away and replacing it with your own.

"How about you, Eli? Did you enjoy the show?" You asked, your fingers moving up and down his length. 

"Very much so," he replied, his eyes darkening. You grinned and leaned forward, taking his cock into your mouth. You could feel him twitch, and you bobbed your head, swirling your tongue in a way that drove any man crazy.

Reaching out, you took Kol's cock in your other hand, stroking him in time with your movements. You desperately wanted both of them inside you, but you wanted to drag this out, to make them squirm.

The two brothers let out a groan as you worked your magic, your tongue and hands teasing and pleasing them. Then, you suddenly pulled off Elijah with a loud pop and released Kol. They both let out a grunt of disappointment.

You sat back on your knees, relishing the way you were able to have the two of them exactly where you wanted them. They looked at you with hungry, lust filled eyes, their chests rising and falling 

"Aurora, come here," Elijah ordered, his voice thick with need. You smirked, but remained where you were.

"Are you going to beg?" You asked, your voice sweet as honey. 

"No," Elijah growled. 

"Not a chance," Kol replied. You chuckled, amused by their defiance.

"Alright, then I suppose I'll just go then, what a disappointing birthday," you said with a mock sigh, standing up and gathering your clothes. You made a big show of getting dressed, making sure to turn away from them as you bent over, giving them a perfect view of your ass.

Suddenly, you felt yourself being lifted off the ground and you let out a squeal of surprise as Kol threw you over his shoulder. He carried you to his bedroom, with Elijah following close behind, chuckling softly.

"Where do you think you are going?" Kol said as he tossed you onto the bed. You giggled, loving the way his eyes were devouring you. You sat up, your gaze traveling between the two men as they began to undress. They were both beautiful, and your gaze lingered on their cocks, your core aching to feel them.

"Which one do you want first?" Elijah asked. You bit your lip, unable to choose.

"Both?" You suggested, your voice small and hopeful. Elijah smiled, and he and Kol shared a glance.

"Are you sure you can handle that, sweetheart?" Kol asked. You nodded, your eyes darkening with lust. The two men crawled onto the bed, and you felt your heart race as they drew closer. 

Elijah moved behind you, pulling you back against his chest, his hands moving to cup your breasts. He pinched your nipples, rolling them between his fingers, eliciting a moan from your lips.

Kol knelt in front of you, his eyes meeting yours. You reached out, taking his cock in your hand, stroking him slowly. His gaze locked onto yours and he gave you a wicked grin. 

"Darling, I'm going to make you cum all over my cock," he promised. Elijah chuckled, and you felt him nip at your neck.

"And I'm going to fill your tight little ass," he whispered, his hands roaming your body. You whimpered, your need growing with each passing moment.

"I love it when you two cooperate," you said, your voice laced with desire.

"Just this once," Elijah replied. Kol rolled his eyes, and you laughed, the sound quickly turning into a gasp as Kol's lips captured yours. He kissed you roughly, his tongue exploring your mouth.

You felt Elijah's fingers dip in between you, circling around your ass, and you arched your back, pressing against him. His free hand reached for the lube on the nightstand, and he generously coated his fingers, slowly pushing one inside you.

You moaned against Kol's lips, and he broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck and to your breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth. Elijah's fingers moved slowly, stretching you and preparing you for his cock. You could feel his tip press against you, and you bit your lip, anticipating the sweet sting of pain that would accompany his entrance.

"There you go darling, relax for my brother," Kol whispered, his lips moving back up to yours, kissing you hungrily. You could feel Elijah slowly push himself into you, the burn mixing with pleasure.

You broke the kiss and looked into Kol's eyes for reassurance, your hands gripping his shoulders. He smiled at you, and you took a deep breath, trying to relax your body.

"So tight, my dear," Elijah grunted, his fingers digging into your hips as he slowly pushed deeper into you. You closed your eyes, the sensations overwhelming you.

"Look at me," Kol ordered, his tone harsh. You opened your eyes, and he smiled, his eyes filled with lust and mischief. "I want to see the look on your face when I make you cum."

Elijah pulled out and then pushed back in, setting a slow pace, his hands gripping your hips. Kol moved closer, his cock brushing against your clit, sending a wave of pleasure through you.

"Yes," you moaned, your nails digging into his biceps. 

Elijah picked up the pace, his thrusts growing rougher and faster. Kol leaned down and captured your lips in a rough kiss, his tongue battling with yours.

"Does the lovely Aurora enjoy Elijah's cock in her ass?" Kol asked, breaking the kiss. You could only nod, your mind fuzzy from the pleasure.

"Such a naughty girl," Kol said, his voice low and thick with arousal. He wrapped his hand around your throat, applying just enough pressure to send a thrill of fear through you.

"Do you want me too, birthday girl?" He asked, gently squeezing. You whimpered and nodded, your body on fire from their touches and words.

Elijah slowed his pace, his hands running up your sides. Kol pushed you down, your back now flush against Elijah's chest. You moaned as Kol rubbed his cock against your clit, and he smirked, pushing himself inside you.

You gasped, the feeling of being so full was intense, almost too much. Elijah's warm hands caressed your sides, soothing you softly.

"You feel so good," Elijah whispered, his cock sliding in and out of you. Kol's eyes were fixed on your face, watching your reaction as he slowly pushed deeper inside you. You cried out, your back arching, as he began to move, setting a slow, deep pace.

"Such a pretty little thing you are," Kol said, his voice strained. "Look at her Elijah, isn't she beautiful?"

"Absolutely stunning," Elijah agreed, his breath hot on your ear. The brothers picked up their pace, and your moans grew louder, your body burning with pleasure.

"You see Elijah? This is how you please a woman," Kol said, his tone smug. Elijah chuckled, his hands roaming your body.

"If you say so," he replied, his hands controlling the pace, pulling you back as he thrust into you.

"Oh god," you cried, your head falling back onto his shoulder. You felt the familiar heat coiling inside you, the tension building with each thrust.

"Do you like the way we fill you up, Aurora? Do you like being our little fuck toy?" Kol asked, his voice low and husky.

"Yes," you moaned. "Oh fuck, yes."

The three of you moved together, the sound of your skin slapping filling the room. Elijah's fingers dug into your hips, holding you steady as he thrust harder into your ass. Kol leaned down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss.

You could feel your orgasm approaching, the heat inside you becoming unbearable. Kol reached down, his thumb rubbing your clit, and your whole body shook, the pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave.

You moaned into Kol's mouth, your pussy tightening around his cock. The sensation sent him over the edge, and he came with a groan, spilling deep inside you.

Elijah gripped your hips, pulling you back against him as he thrusted into you, the room filled with your moans and heavy breathing. With a final grunt, he came, filling your ass.

You collapsed in a tangle of limbs on the bed, trying to catch your breath. Kol pressed a kiss to your temple, and you smiled, your body spent and your mind dizzy from pleasure.

"Happy Birthday, Aurora," Elijah said softly, his lips brushing against your cheek.

"Thank you," you replied, your voice hoarse. "That was a very generous gift."

Kol chuckled, and you nestled between the two men, the warmth of their bodies lulling you to sleep. The last thought you had before drifting off was how much you hoped your birthday would end like this every year.

~♡ Could someone please create some Elijah and Kol gifs? The current shortage is truly devastating ♡~

[jinjinxedsoul]

When The Sun Loved The Moon - Aegon II Targaryen

CHAPTER 5. PLEASURE IS A SERIOUS MATTER

warnings: smut, very slight breeding kink, virginity loss. kinda dark aegon (gets someone murdered) grammar errors (I'm sleep deprived and english is not my first language)

A/N: I hadn't written smut in ages and I'm not doing very well mentally so the smut scene may suck but I promise I'll rewrite it as soon as I can and I'll try to do better on the next one :)

130 A.C

The celebration for Jaella and Jacaerys was as splendid as expected. Mountains of food and dozens of barrels of the finest wines were served to the guests who remained throughout the days of festivities. Far from the excitement dwindling over time, it only grew, fueled by the anticipation of Jacaerys and Helaena’s upcoming wedding.

Jaella seemed particularly cheerful, as Daemon had allowed her more than a few glasses of wine due to the celebration. She had also been granted many dances with Prince Aegon, Prince Aemond, and the young Lord Arryn.

The music ended, and the crowd erupted in applause as some of the couples who had just danced returned to their seats. Others, however, remained on the floor, eager to continue with the next song—among them Jaella and her partner, whom Aegon watched from a distance with clear disdain.

"Mother is watching you," Aemond’s voice came from beside him.

"Let her watch," Aegon shrugged, his tone indifferent. "It’s pathetic."

"Mother?"

"Decran Stark," Aegon corrected, his gaze never leaving Jaella and her dancing partner, who seemed to be laughing together without a care.

"I don’t understand why it bothers you so much," Aemond admitted. "Our niece seems especially charmed by you."

"Northerners tend to be... a bit rough, the complete opposite of what Jaella deserves," Aegon muttered, finishing the remainder of his drink in one swift gulp.

Aemond let out a mocking laugh, earning a sharp look from his brother.

"If we follow that line of thought, do you believe you're what Jaella deserves?" Aegon's grimace was all the response Aemond needed. "But I understand that such things matter little to you. As long as she wants you and you want her, there's nothing the rest of us can say about it."

Aegon nodded in agreement, a subtle sign for Aemond to drop the subject, and his brother took the hint, falling silent.

Since it was the last day of the celebration in Jaella’s honor, Aegon wanted to do something memorable. However, his mood had been dampened by the young Stark's insistence on monopolizing his niece’s attention, so when Jaella finally decided she’d had enough dancing, Aegon knew it was his moment before anyone else could approach her.

The prince stood, and the music stopped. All eyes turned to the young Targaryen, listening closely to what he had to say, especially his mother, who already seemed tired of her son's impulsive actions.

"Before the celebration ends, I want to take this opportunity to present one last gift to Princess Jaella," he spoke loudly enough that everyone in the hall could hear him clearly.

Jaella, who had just returned to her seat at the table, looked curiously toward her uncle. When their eyes met, both their smiles widened, especially Aegon's, who was pleased to have Jaella's attention on him and not on the Northerner.

Aegon continued his speech. 

"Since we were children, I’ve witnessed the immense fascination my niece has had with dragons. Unfortunately, the egg that was placed in her cradle never hatched, and she doesn’t have her own dragon, as almost all family members do. Today, on her fifteenth name day, I want to change that."

Jaella's heart raced, her eyes shining with a mixture of disbelief and excitement. The rest of the guests held their breath at such a declaration. Aegon, knowing everything was in place as he had planned, snapped his fingers. The heavy doors of the hall swung open, revealing two guards carrying a sort of uncovered chest, inside of which were plush golden cushions.

The princess rose from her seat, feeling a rush of excitement coursing through her, her stomach fluttering with anticipation as the guards approached her. Resting atop the cushions was a small dragon, no bigger than a cat, its beautiful scales a shimmering blue-green with copper accents that gleamed like real metal.

Aegon walked over to her and courteously took her hand, guiding her toward the chest that had been placed on the floor. Jaella looked at him, unable to contain her excitement, and the prince nodded, silently assuring her that this was indeed happening.

"Is it really mine?" she asked, her voice trembling with emotion.

"Of course," he smiled, fighting the urge to kiss her. "Its egg hatched a few months ago, and I knew immediately that such a beautiful dragon could only be meant for you."

"Thank you," she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears.

Aegon gently tugged her hand, leading her closer to the dragon. He silently sought approval from the guards, who simply nodded. The small dragon tilted its head curiously at the proximity of the princess's hand. Jaella smiled and extended her hand fully toward the creature. It hesitated for a moment but eventually leaned into her touch, pressing its head against her palm.

The crowd erupted into applause and cheers of joy, but Jaella could barely hear them. Her entire focus was on the magnificent creature before her, while Aegon gazed at her as one might look upon the arrival of spring after a long winter.

"I promise you that very soon, everything I have and everything I am will be yours." 

Jaella chose to believe those words and that after that day, they would finally agree to betroth her to Aegon. She wanted to believe that.

═════𖠁 ═════

The celebration had concluded without any incident; Aegon had behaved well enough, and when he felt too drunk to tolerate Decran Stark's blatant flirtations with Jaella, he simply retreated to his room, leaving the matter to Harland Arryn.

He soon fell asleep, relieved that his mother wouldn't come to scold him for everything he had done over those days. In truth, he didn't care much, for each and every smile and glance Jaella had given him had made it all worth it.

However, he did receive a visitor. It was during the hour of ghosts when Aegon awoke to the sound he heard inside his room. Though he had drunk enough that night, something had been on his mind, keeping his sleep light and allowing him to wake up at such a small disturbance in his chambers.

The prince sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes as he tried to see something through the dimness of his room. It took him a moment, but finally, his eyes made out a delicate figure standing before him, one he recognized instantly.

Jaella seemed nervous, wearing a soft white silk nightgown with embroidery that, Aegon recognized, had been done by Helaena. It was so delicate that it revealed the natural grace of her figure. Her loose hair fell gently in waves down her back and over her chest, shimmering like molten silver in the moonlight that filtered through the curtains of the room.

Aegon, still somewhat disoriented from the lingering effects of sleep and alcohol, couldn’t help the way his heart fluttered in his chest at the magnificent sight before him.

"Jaella," he whispered, his voice still heavy with sleep. "What are you doing here…?"

The younger girl fidgeted with her fingers, avoiding his gaze, feeling too self-conscious to look him in the eyes. Aegon tried to catch her eyes discreetly, briefly worrying that she might be hurt and wanting to make sure there were no traces of tears on her face.

"You left early, uncle," murmured the Velaryon.

Hearing her calm voice, Aegon relaxed a little, his worry easing. He was just about to respond when she spoke again.

"I didn’t get the chance to thank you for all the honors you’ve given me these past few days," she finally lifted her gaze, and for a moment, Aegon's heart seemed to stop. "From crowning me at the tournament to dancing with me every night... and the dragon..."

“You didn’t have to thank me for anything,” Aegon let out a sigh. “It’s what you deserve.”

“And I wanted... I want to thank you by granting you an honor as well.”

Aegon frowned, unable to make sense of her words. Jaella inhaled deeply, then finally made up her mind to move around the bed, coming to stand beside the prince, who couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way the silk clung to every inch of her figure.

“When you were in Dragonstone... You said you wanted to know that I gave myself to you of my own free will,” Jaella’s breath hitched, and Aegon couldn’t help but feel his own quicken in response. “So I’ve come to give myself to you. There’s no coercion, no obligation. Only my will.”

The prince’s heart raced, pounding so loudly that he swore he could hear each beat echoing in his chest. The remnants of sleep vanished instantly, and without much thought, he rose from the bed, standing in front of her. His hands instinctively cupped her face gently, as Aegon searched her eyes for any trace of hesitation.

“Do you really want this?” he asked once more, seeking assurance.

She nodded without breaking eye contact or hesitating for a moment. That was when Aegon leaned in, capturing her lips in a hungry kiss that left both of them breathless. When they pulled apart, Aegon kept their foreheads pressed together, softly stroking Jaella’s cheeks with tenderness.

“You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to kiss you,” he murmured.

“Kiss me again.”

Jaella’s voice sounded almost like a plea, sending a shiver down Aegon’s spine. He joined their lips once more, and as their kisses deepened, the prince’s hands began to explore, first moving down to her neck, framing it with devotion, then to her shoulders where his fingers delicately played with the fabric of her nightgown, soon daring to slide beneath it, gently pushing the sleeves down until her shoulders were fully exposed.

A sigh escaped Jaella’s lips as Aegon left her mouth and dared to place a moist kiss on her collarbone, then moved down her chest, leaving several kisses until he reached her other shoulder. Aegon held her at the waist, surprising himself with how perfectly his hands seemed to fit against her sides. His fingers pressed into her skin through the fabric, feeling the warmth emanating from her body.

He traced his fingers around her waist, playing with the ribbon tied tightly at the front of the nightgown, which kept her nakedness concealed. Jaella opened her eyes, and he gave her a reassuring smile before gently sliding the ribbon, untying the knot, and allowing the nightgown to fall loose and swiftly pool around her feet in a small puddle of white silk.

The weather in King’s Landing was warm enough for that time of year, yet when Jaella stood bare, her skin prickled, and she fought the urge to cover herself. Especially as Aegon seemed to take his time admiring her, his eyes showing neither judgment nor haste, only a devotion that made her feel secure in her vulnerability.

It was not the first time Aegon had seen a woman naked, that was a fact; however, he had never taken the time to admire them. He wasn’t interested in spending time on that, as he always took them in the same way: from behind and without looking at their faces, preventing them from speaking and calling them by the name of the woman now in front of him.

He cupped her face in his hands once more and kissed her repeatedly, his hands moving restlessly over the princess’s smooth, pale skin, stealing gasps and sighs that died directly in his mouth. Jaella, for her part, wasn’t quite sure what to do. Although she had once paid a serving woman to talk to her candidly about matters of pleasure, the flood of emotions she was experiencing made it difficult to remember everything she was supposed to do.

Uncertainly, she brought her trembling hands to Aegon’s shoulders and removed the robe that covered his bare chest. The prince was young, and before the celebration, he had spent days training in the art of combat, which had given his body a well-defined physique, with muscles clearly marked on his skin. Jaella dared to run her hand over Aegon’s torso, causing him to shiver slightly. He wasn’t used to being touched so delicately or admired with the same devotion with which he looked at her. Although their past encounters had always been brief and emotionless, this felt different, and the novelty captivated him.

When Jaella’s hand brushed against the fabric of his trousers, she hesitated and tried to pull away, but Aegon stopped her.

“It’s okay. Don’t stop,” he requested, suddenly feeling more in need of his lover’s touch than he ever had before.

“I don’t want to do it wrong,” she admitted, feeling her cheeks flush.

Aegon smiled to the side and gently caressed her cheek.

“You’re perfect. You couldn’t do anything wrong.”

The prince’s words were the spark that ignited her confidence. Her hands returned to the edge of the fabric, her index finger delicately brushing against his waist, and she was surprised when Aegon placed his hand over hers and, with urgency, guided both of them inside his trousers.

She had never touched a man like this before, but when she wrapped her fingers around Aegon’s already hardened cock and he let out a deep sigh followed by a series of short moans, something inside her ignited. Her movements were initially hesitant, but as Aegon guided her with gentle and firm motions, her confidence grew.

Aegon leaned back, eyes closed and lips slightly parted in pleasure. His breathing became more irregular with each caress Jaella provided. The sensation of her touch, though inexperienced, was enough to make him lose himself in the moment.

Jaella watched him closely, looking for signs in his expression of what pleased him. Whenever she adjusted her rhythm or pressure, Aegon responded with a slight moan or sigh, giving her clear guidance on how to continue.

The prince’s breathing became increasingly erratic and agitated, and only then did Aegon withdraw Jaella’s hand, not wanting to reach his release in that manner. She thought she might have done something wrong, but the thought didn’t linger as the prince kissed her with greater fervor, pulling her firmly by the waist to press their bodies together.

Both gasped at the contact, and as Jaella’s hands tangled in Aegon’s hair, he gently guided her towards his bed. He laid her down delicately on the mattress, and his hand wandered between Jaella’s legs, eliciting a surprised gasp from her that he quickly soothed with a kiss.

“Aegon…” she whispered his name tremulously, feeling his fingers dance slowly and rhythmically through her folds.

The touches, though new and unfamiliar, sent pleasurable waves through her body, creating an overwhelming need that seemed impossible to satisfy.

“Yes?”

“I…”

She didn’t know what she needed, couldn’t put it into words because she had never experienced anything like this before. But the prince, more experienced than she, immediately recognized the implicit desire in her gasps and the way her body quivered slightly. Jaella’s desperate whimpers only intensified Aegon’s arousal, and in less than a second, he had discarded the remaining clothes he wore and quickly resumed his position between Jaella’s legs.

She trembled as she felt his manhood hit her entrance eagerly, he smiled tenderly and amused by the way his niece seemed nervous at that. He covered her face with kisses, trying to compensate for the pain he was about to cause her. Aegon began to enter her, each movement careful, slow, allowing her to adapt to the new sensation.

It was difficult for him to make his way inside her, as it was clear that Jaella's body was a virgin and despite the growing desire that was present, she could not prevent her muscles from tensing at the intrusion. Between caresses and reassuring whispers, Aegon managed to enter completely, causing the young woman's back to arch, feeling slight pangs of pain that ran through her completely.

A few seconds passed before the pain was replaced by a wave of heat that coincided with the moment when Aegon began to move inside her; At first it was uncomfortable, but as time passed his body relaxed, gladly receiving the prince.

"I've dreamed of having you like this every night," he growled softly against her neck, while continuing the pleasurable movement of his hips.

His words drew a moan from her, making her lift her hips, seeking to meet Aegon's thrusts with more urgency. The prince responded immediately, his hand firmly gripping Jaella's waist, while the other roamed almost desperately from her face to her neck, stopping at her breasts, where he massaged and squeezed. He seemed lost in his own desire, his hands traveling across her skin with such hunger that he couldn't focus on just one spot.

The heat inside the princess intensified, making her act with desperation. Pulling hard on Aegon's shoulders, she managed to turn him onto his back on the mattress. Jaella let out a gasp at the sudden sensation of emptiness but quickly straddled him.

The prince let out a chuckle, and a dark smile spread across his face, which only widened at the blush adorning the young woman's cheeks. He was pleasantly surprised by the sudden burst of boldness that seemed to bloom in her. Aegon usually didn’t let women ride him, but with Jaella, none of that mattered. His own preferences and needs became secondary; all he wanted was for her to feel good beside him.

His hands gripped her hips, his fingers sinking into her skin, leaving reddish marks. The pressure intensified as she began to lower herself onto his member. Jaella's hands positioned themselves on Aegon's chest, trying to find balance and not collapse onto him, as the pleasure coursing through her was enough to make her legs tremble.

“That's it,” the prince whispered, smiling and letting out a sigh when he was fully inside her. “Move” he commanded in a hoarse voice.

She was unsure of how to do it, but trusted that her body would know how to respond. Besides, Aegon's expert hands helped her establish a gentle rhythm that soon had both of them moaning uncontrollably.

Jaella tilted her head back slightly, her hair cascading down, as her breathing grew heavier and her movements more erratic. Aegon sat up on the mattress and held her firmly by the back, taking her lips with intensity, guiding her to a pleasurable rhythm that she struggled to match, moving with increasing skill on top of the prince.

“I wish I could be your wife,” Jaella murmured between gasps. “And have you all the time.”

“You will be,” he assured her before moving his lips to Jaella’s chest, marking her skin as much as he could. “You will be my wife, you will share my bed every night, and you will give me children.”

Jaella let out a choked moan upon hearing those words. The promises wrapped in those whispers not only ignited the heat within her body but also warmed her heart, filling her with a hope she had never known before.

“You’re mine,” Aegon murmured with an intensity that made her shiver even more. “You always will be.”

“Then claim me as yours now, fill me with your seed, and let me bear your children. Then they won’t have any choice but to wed me to you.”

Aegon trembled slightly, feeling the pleasure course through him at hearing those words from his precious Jaella’s lips. The idea sounded exceedingly tempting, but he knew that if he did that, it would ruin everything and he would likely be separated from her. His mind was clouded, filled with the haze of desire that seemed to obscure any coherent thoughts.

The image of Jaella pregnant, carrying their children, was a thought that invaded Aegon's mind with overwhelming force. He was consumed by desire, the sight of her body transformed by the fruit of their union, the power to claim her irrevocably.

She was aware of the indecision that seemed to darken her uncle's face and brought one of her hands to his cheek, without stopping to jump on him she kissed him tenderly and forced him to look into her eyes.

"I know it's not the time," she whispered against his lips, "But I don't know when the next time I can enjoy this with you will be or if our wishes will come true."

The idea drew a growl from him and an almost wild instinct made him bury himself hard inside his niece, stealing a pleasurable cry from her that would surely have been heard throughout the hall. The idea that he might not have her again, that this moment could be the first and the last, drove him to act with overwhelming passion.

“Let me feel what it’s like to be completely yours. Fill me as you would if I were your wife.”

“Do you really want that?” he asked, his lips exploring every inch of skin within reach, leaving red marks that would likely linger for some time.

“Please, Aegon,” she moaned, clinging to his back, seeking closer contact, her nails digging into the prince’s skin.

The sensations became overwhelming, building up in her lower abdomen like a pulsing knot that was tightening, making her feel that something was about to break inside her and she needed to know what that imminent release was. Her legs trembled, and the man beneath her couldn’t help but let out a small cry as he felt Jaella’s inner muscles clench around him.

The young woman dissolved into moans that called out the prince's name, leading Aegon to the peak of his pleasure. He made no attempt to withdraw; instead, he thrust more forcefully to ensure she felt him completely.

The warm moisture spread inside Jaella, making her smile along with a few gasps as she felt the slight spasms in Aegon’s member.

Their chests rose and fell rapidly as they both tried to regulate their breathing and match the beats of their hearts. Aegon desperately sought Jaella’s gaze, and when he found it and she smiled at him, he couldn’t help but kiss her with an almost overwhelming tenderness.

Jaella clung to Aegon, her fingers tangled in the prince’s tousled hair as she allowed herself to be carried away by the intensity of her emotions. Aegon's gaze, filled with devotion and longing, was etched in her mind, and she knew that, despite any complications that might arise, this shared moment had forged a bond between them that nothing could break.

═════𖠁 ═════

He gently stroked the young woman's hair and sighed. He didn’t know how long they had been like this, but there were no signs of the sun rising in the sky, so it was still far from dawn, or at least that’s what he wanted to believe because he wasn’t ready to let her go.

“Have you chosen a name for your dragon?” he suddenly asked, tracing invisible shapes on the bare skin of her waist. “I ordered them to start training it with you from tomorrow.”

“Moonfyre,” she said confidently, smiling softly.

Aegon’s chest vibrated with a laugh that escaped his lips, feeling a pang of tenderness upon realizing that Jaella had chosen a name for her dragon that perfectly matched his own.

“Moonfyre?” he asked, still smiling. She nodded. “I like it,” he declared before leaning in to kiss her forehead. “If you ask me, I’ve always associated you with the moon, so I think it’s a great name.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I’ve always thought you have something of the moon. It’s serene and powerful at the same time, and has a unique beauty, just like you.”

The sweetness of Aegon’s words made her chest ache. At that moment, she realized that she wouldn’t be able to be with him in that way whenever she wished, that she wouldn’t be able to hear the affectionate words he reserved solely for her, and that soon she would have to return home where the search for a suitable partner for her would likely begin.

The room fell into silence for a few minutes, and when Aegon noticed the nervousness that seemed to envelop Jaella, he gently caressed her face to draw her attention.

“Is something the matter?” he asked curiously.

Jaella sat up as much as she could, crossing her arms over Aegon’s bare chest, trying to look him in the eye.

“You’re going to marry,” she whispered, her gaze showing the frustration she felt inside. “You’re going to marry that Tyrell girl.”

“What worries you so much, my beautiful pearl?” he asked, brushing the silver strands of her hair with his fingers. “No one will have me like you have me.”

“I know… It’s just that… I don’t want them to take you away from me.”

“They won’t, I assure you,” he smiled to reassure her, continuing to caress her face. “I won’t take any woman other than you as my wife.”

“It doesn’t matter what you want, Aegon,” she felt a lump forming in her throat and gently shook her head. “She will marry you to Laisa Tyrell whether you want it or not. She’ll do it to secure her alliances, but above all, to keep you away from me.”

“Jaella,” his voice grew more serious, and Aegon’s hold on her face became firmer. “No one will keep me away from you, especially not after tonight.”

“And how can you be sure? How can you…”

Her words were interrupted by five rhythmic knocks on the door, which Aegon seemed to recognize immediately, as his smile widened.

“Come in,” the prince requested, surprising Jaella.

The young woman looked at him as if he had gone mad, quickly covering her nakedness with Aegon’s robe and then slipping under the sheets, fearing that one of the guards might recognize her and spread gossip throughout the Red Keep. Aegon chuckled and shook his head.

“It’s alright, my love, it’s just Harland,” he reassured her.

Jaella peeked out from under the sheets, curious to know why the young Arryn was in the prince’s chambers at such a late hour. The brown-haired man looked at her with amusement and smiled, trying to comfort her discomfort, but wanting her to know that anything related to her was safe with him.

“My princes,” he greeted politely with a slight bow. “I bring... news about Lady Laisa.”

Harland’s gaze shifted significantly to Aegon. Jaella felt her insides twist with anger as she couldn’t understand what could be so important about that young girl and why it mattered to Aegon. The prince seemed to notice his niece’s displeasure, as a soft chuckle escaped his lips.

“You can speak freely, Harland. I’m sure the princess will also be interested in what you have to say.”

“Lady Tyrell has... slipped into the Dragonpit unaccompanied,” he said, capturing the princess’s attention. He continued, “Apparently, there has been an incident with Vhagar.”

“An incident?” Aegon asked, raising an eyebrow, though there was no hint of interest in his voice.

“A very unfortunate one, I’m afraid. Vhagar did not take kindly to Lady Laisa and... she suffered horrific burns from which she did not survive.”

The news did not affect Aegon in the slightest, but Jaella felt as though her soul had left her body; a strange chill ran through her, and her insides twisted in turmoil. It was true that she disliked Laisa, but learning of her death wasn’t satisfying, no matter how much she might have wanted to feel that way. After all, her most recent concern had been resolved with this news.

“It’s a shame,” the prince said, without truly meaning it. “Don’t notify anyone of her death until morning. Princess Jaella needs to rest, and we don’t need that kind of drama before she’s had a chance to.”

“As you command,” Harland responded with a bow before leaving.

Jaella, still curled up under the blankets, felt her breathing quicken as she processed the news. Her mind raced, and it didn’t take long for her to connect the dots of the situation.

“Was it you?” she asked, her brow furrowing slightly.

Aegon sighed heavily and opened his arms to her. The princess quickly nestled against his chest, seeking comfort from the shock she had received. He stroked her hair and scattered kisses across her forehead.

“It was your wish that I didn’t marry Laisa Tyrell, wasn’t it?” he asked, placing a finger under her chin to lift her face and make her look at him.

“But I…”

“I didn’t want to marry her either,” he whispered before planting a quick kiss on her lips. “If it wasn’t now, it would have been after the wedding. She sealed her fate by being so insistent on marrying me,” he said, making a face of annoyance.

“Aegon…” she murmured, feeling the knot tightening in her throat.

“Shh,” he looked at her with devotion while stroking her face and trying to calm her growing anxiety. “You don’t need to worry about anything, my beautiful moon. I made this decision, and it won’t affect you in the slightest, alright?”

“You didn’t have to…”

“I did it for you, and I would do it again. If I have to make you the only existing woman in the world for them to let me marry you, then so be it.”

A sigh escaped the young woman’s lips. Her mind was too tumultuous, but Aegon’s sweet words always managed to give her a clarity she wasn’t sure was right. She understood that perhaps the way it had been handled wasn’t ideal, as it wasn’t something she would have done initially. However, knowing that he was willing to go to such lengths to be with her brought a pleasant emotion she couldn’t describe, and she couldn’t help but have a part of her heart melt at Aegon’s devotion.

"What if they find out?"

"No one will find out," he promised. "The only one who knows is Harland, and he cares about you enough to keep quiet."

She nestled closer to him, and he tightened his embrace, wanting her to know he was there for her, no matter what.

"Now you need to rest. Let me handle the problems that will come in the morning."

═════𖠁 ═════

The death of Laisa Tyrell was widely discussed in court; as expected, her father hurled curses and profanities against the dragons of the old house. The king and queen offered their apologies and arranged a grand funeral for the young lady. Aegon, however, did not even bother to show up to offer his condolences, further enraging Lord Tyrell.

Jaella, on the other hand, did attend, offering comforting words to the grieving father, even though she had indirectly caused the tragic event. She reasoned that if Laisa's death was a small price to pay for her own happiness, the least she could do was show respect and offer her condolences. Aegon, of course, allowed her to do as she pleased—if it made her happy, then he was content as well.

The wedding of Jacaerys and Helaena was postponed by two days due to the recent tragedy, much to Aegon's delight as it meant he had more time with Jaella. Another announcement that caused a stir was Viserys' decision to send Harland Arryn to Dragonstone, where he would be sworn in as Jaella’s protector once he came of age. Initially, Aegon wasn’t pleased with the idea, but soon realized that having Harland on his side in Dragonstone might not be such a bad thing after all. The more he thought about it, the more he saw the positives, eventually agreeing with his father’s decision, knowing that expressing discontent wouldn’t have changed much anyway.

However, his sister couldn't have come up with a better idea than to request Lord Cregan Stark, Decran's older brother, to allow the young wolf to accompany them as well, promising to take him under her care. This made no sense, not only to Aegon but also to Daemon, who openly questioned his wife's decision.

The first rumor was that the princess had already decided that the younger Stark would be the one to receive the honor of marrying her daughter. However, Rhaenyra did not intend to wed Jaella to the young Stark, nor was she looking to forge a strategic alliance prematurely. That decision was purely precautionary. The princess was uncertain how much Alicent had poisoned her half-brother's heart, but she feared it was enough to dampen Aegon’s love for Jaella.

With Harland and Decran close—both of whom she knew were infatuated with her daughter—any betrayal by Aegon would be much easier to contain. Perhaps one of them would even volunteer to go after the prince's head if he made a wrong move. If she were lucky, Jaella’s heart might open to either of the two handsome young men with whom she would now live day by day.

Aegon had not taken this particularly well, and that night, he had sought refuge in the Dornish wine he had bought from one of the brothels in the Street of Silk, where he had gone under the guise of properly saying goodbye to the young Arryn.

"You'll be a formidable knight," exclaimed the prince, his words slurring, a sign that he was beginning to lose the battle to the wine. "So lucky. You'll get to see my precious moon every day."

Aegon placed a hand on Harland's shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze.

"You'd better behave yourself when you're at Dragonstone. You must take care of her."

A mocking smile appeared on Harland's lips, and he raised an eyebrow as he looked at the prince, incredulous at what Aegon was saying.

"Are you really going to trust me with her, knowing my feelings for her?"

Aegon dropped his hand and frowned, weighing the young man's words, his tone clearly aimed at provoking the prince. Aegon's temper did worsen, but he restrained himself, deciding not to punch him as he would have liked.

"It's either you or Decran Stark," Aegon spat the words with disdain, and Harland let out a laugh, well aware of the prince's aversion toward the young wolf. "You know full well how strong the princess's feelings for me are, and you know you can't change them."

Harland nodded calmly. The matter didn’t trouble him, nor was it anything he wasn’t already aware of. Despite his affection for Jaella being no secret, he had come to terms with the reality of his position and learned to respect the place Jaella had given Aegon.

"I know, and believe me, I don't intend to. I'll stay as far away as she asks me to," Harland replied.

Aegon sighed, fully aware that his niece enjoyed the young Arryn's company. That promise didn’t guarantee much.

"I'm not a fool, Harland. I have eyes, and I know the princess finds you... attractive," he muttered, eyeing him from head to toe with a hint of disdain. "Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if she wanted to have you."

"Such flattering words, my prince, but please, you're making me nervous," Harland murmured mockingly, trying to hide how much the prince's words had inflated his ego.

Aegon shook his head and rolled his eyes, making a face for him to drop the subject, which only made Harland laugh.

"I take matters of pleasure very seriously, Arryn," Aegon continued after taking a long sip of his wine. "I couldn't deny the princess her pleasure, not after I've shown it to her, and I won’t always be there to give it to her as often as she desires."

It was Harland's turn to roll his eyes, aware that the prince was boasting about having shared Jaella's bed those nights, practically rubbing it in his face that he wasn’t the one to whom the princess had given her maidenhood.

"And why are you telling me this?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Aegon asked, leaning in with a nearly cynical smile, causing Harland to frown. "It's either you or Decran Stark," he repeated with a grimace. "If I had to choose someone to please the princess in my absence... I definitely wouldn't pick you, but right now, I don't have a better option."

"Well... you could always fly to Dragonstone and please her yourself."

"Yes, Harland, what a marvelous idea. I'm sure my sister would welcome me with open arms every time I decide to show up at her castle to fuck her daughter."

"You're smarter than that. Are you really going to let me do whatever I want with the princess while you're here doing nothing?"

Aegon laughed heartily and shook his head, giving Harland a friendly pat on the shoulder, though it seemed more like a false mask trying to hide his discomfort at the idea of leaving Jaella with another man.

"Don’t get it twisted, Arryn," he warned, his voice growing more serious. "This is only for the princess's pleasure. If she doesn’t ask you to do anything, then you do nothing. Got it? Get rid of all those fantasies in your head. You’re only going as her protector. If the princess seeks you out for... other services, then and only then will you provide them."

Harland rolled his eyes once more and nodded, trying to mask his excitement at the thought that, after all, he might have the chance to be with Jaella as he had sometimes imagined. Of course, it wasn’t everything he wanted—he desired not only the princess’s body but also her heart. But he knew that was almost impossible, so whatever Aegon was giving him at that moment was better than nothing.

“I will take good care of her, following your instructions,” he said, inclining his head slightly.

“Just you, Harland. Keep the wolves away,” he patted his shoulder again, feeling more sincere this time. “And let your services not be limited. Obey everything the princess asks of you, even if it goes beyond your scruples.”

“Nothing is too far when it comes to her.”

“Good, I’m glad we’re on the same page about that.”

[tiyawnyana]

Kinktober: Day 7

Blowjob

A/N: spoiler blowjobs aren't a thing in the metkayina in this fic, at least arent vocalized. Enjoy! Also can be seen as a prequel to Day 4 ;)

Pairing: Ao'nung x (fem) Omiticaya Sully

Warnings: use of good boy/good girl, teasing, nipple play, oral (m received), some slight face fuck, clit play on oneself, cum swallowing

¤¤¤

Your friendship with Ao'nung had of course started off rocky. He was not so fond of your siblings, nor you, always picking on you or Kiri.

Where Kiri was more timid, you were the opposite. You were soft spoken, but hard around the edges. You would snort, chuckle or roll your eyes at his comments before coming up with a snarky reply.

He grew addicted to it, looking forward to an argument that he could have with you, and quite honestly, so did you.

And when he became nicer to you and your siblings, you kept that friendly rivalry and bickering going. You lit a fire in his veins, surprisingly.

So it came to little surprise to you when that fire became molten lava, twisting into certain feelings and desires that embarrassed you at first.

But luckily, one argument that had you playfully flirting as a reply had him blushing hot, giving you your answer. You had crowded against him at the next festival a few nights later, then dragging him off out onto the beach before kissing languidly on the sand. You introduced him to new things, new ways to hold one another in heated moments. New.. desires, honestly.

Which brought you to now.

You quickly tug him up the beach, grinning breathlessly as you head towards the hidden cove surrounded by rocks that you had found earlier in the week.

"Woah, hey, where are you taking me?" Ao'nung chuckles, following your lead.

"It's a surprise," you smirk back at him, dragging him further. He fondly rolls his eyes in response.

You finally arrive, grinning in victory, fists perked up on your hips as you smirk over at him,"Ta-da! Perfect place."

He chuckles, gazing around at the barren beach and the rocks covering a portion of the area, shielding whoever was on the other side from view.

He smirks over at you,"I found this when I was like, 12."

You frown, rolling your eyes before huffing out,"Shut up and climb to the other side," in a snarky tone, quickly scaling the small rock wall.

Ao'nung rolls his eyes once more before following you carefully. You're already on the other side and waiting for him on the sand when he reaches the top. He turns his back to you, climbing down and you snort.

"You're really bad at climbing," you chuckle.

"Hey do me a favor? Shut up," he huffs, shaking his head. He almost misses a stone, a sharp inhale being the only indication of the misstep before he sighs, feet finally hitting the sand,"Now why did you have me do that?"

You giggle innocently, blinking at him doe eyed,"I wanted to try something with you, wanted to be outside but still private. Thought this place would do perfect.."

"I feel like this thing you want to try is a terrible idea-"

"Ao'nung! Just- just trust me, ok? You'll love it I promise!" You press your hands to his pecs, pushing him backwards until he leans against a smooth stone. You grin up at him, cupping the sides of his neck and leaning up, kissing him sweetly then pulling back and teasing,"Be a good boy, yeah?"

He groans, ears flicking back before shutting up as you attach your lips to his neck, licking and nipping soft but careful to not leave any marks. You graze your hands over his chest before straight up cupping his pecs and giggling against his neck.

"Stop that- hey," he chuckles as well, taking your hands and moving them away from his chest.

"I was kidding, 'Nung," you press a wet kiss to his pec, grinning up at him with your tongue poking through your teeth. You keep your gaze on him, lolling your tongue out and licking languidly over his nipple. He jumps and shrinks in, or attempts to, but is met with the stone against his back.

"Do you like how it feels?" You ask seriously, hand lightly wringing free from his grasp to thumb gently over the other one.

"Uh- I.." He swallows, coughing lightly and shaking his head.

"Was that a no?" You pull back, ready to stop but he chokes out.

"No! It wasnt-" He clenches his eyes shut,"it wasn't a no, it did feel good. Just wasn't expecting it."

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise before a grin stretches across your lips again and you lean back down, keeping eye contact as you lick broadly over his now hardened nipple. He shudders, head tilting back and he groans quietly. You continue to tease him there, even sucking over the bud and pinching the other one at the same time. He gasps, panting as he watches you blearily.

You switch to the other side, sucking hard over his nipple while flicking your tongue. You're surprised to feel him buck against you, cock already having unsheathed itself from his slit.

"Ooh?" You drift a hand down, ever so lightly grazing over his tewng covered cock. He clenches his jaw, huffing hard through his nose.

"Shut up," he pants, eyes half lidded in a hazy gaze.

"Ohh, come on now," you grip his cock firmly, stroking soft,"That's no way to treat someone being so nice to you."

His hands grip over some rocks on either side of him to stabilize himself as he pants, moaning lowly.

"Come on, where's my good boy at?" You purr, arousal coiling hot below your belly. You always loved the power switch you could do for eachother, even if briefly done in heated makeout sessions for the most part.

He pants, a low whine rising from his throat as he cringes in embarrassment,"Right- oh, right here, please-" He pants hard as your hand continues to stroke him over the cloth.

"There's my baby, hey," you lift your hand to tug at the ropes holding his tewng up,"You trust me, right?"

"Of course," he manages to choke out, eyes widening as you kneel before him, tugging his tewng off and down his firm legs. His cock nearly springs out, slapping against his stomach. You grin up at him, gently tracing down the prominent v-line down his stomach and tracing down his thighs. You lean in, kissing the skin softly and sucking a hickey into the skin next to his cock. He jolts, hips bucking forward.

You then wrap your hand around his length, jerking lightly at first and making a rhythm for yourself. Nice and slow, thumbing over the tip until its sticky with pre. You pop your thumb against your tongue, keeping your eyes of his as you swallow lewdly.

He groans, head tilting back, but he jumps, yelping.

You had grabbed the base of his cock, aiming the head to your mouth and sticking your tongue out, hot breath fanning out. You gingerly pressed the tip to your tongue, curling it around the cockhead and grinning through your eyes at his shocked look.

"Wait- ah! Hey, oh, Eywa!" Ao'nung whines, knees buckling and swallowing hard but he presses his palm against your forehead to hold you back.

You choke on a laugh,"Ao'nung! Hey, wait-"

"You wait!" He wheezes, staring down at you as if you were crazy,"Were you planning to bite me? The only thing the women have done here with their mouths is kiss and make the mating bite!"

"I'll bite you elsewhere but not on your dick, jeez-" you roll your eyes before firmly stroking his cock, grinning cheekily up at him,"Just, please trust me? It'll feel good, I promise.. let me give my good boy some pleasure?"

He gulps hard, thinking until his ears flick back and he nods, blush hot on his cheeks as he lets go of your head.

You grin in delight and dive in with no hesitation, wrapping your lips around his tip and swirling your tongue.

"Oh!-" He whines, hips already bucking against you.

You lift your free hand, holding him by his hip to keep him still as you bob your head down his length. You curl your tongue on the underside, dragging and rolling against the flesh while keeping your eyes on his heaving chest, clenching eyes and wanton moans.

You keep bobbing your head, up and down, saliva leaking from your mouth but you couldn't care less; you were enjoying this way too much already, you could feel how wet you were but you didn't care again, wanting nothing more than to give your boy this pleasure.

You moan around his cock then suck in a sharp gasp as he bucks hard enough out of your grasp, cockhead roughly hitting the back of your throat. You yank yourself off, coughing slightly.

"I'm- I'm sorry, tiyawn, I-" He stumbles, but you shake your head.

Your voice has a rasp that sends a hot shiver down his spine,"Sit still, I'll tell you when to move, ok baby?"

He only nods in response, any words being swallowed by the whimper turning into an open mouthed moan as you grip him, quickly enveloping his cock in your mouth. This time however, you force yourself further down his length, testing your limits more and more. The wet noises are thankfully stifled by the mid-afternoon waves of the ocean. He leans heavily into the stones behind him, knees growing weak with the ever-growing pleasure.

After consistently working yourself further and further down his length, much to your delight, your nose finally presses firmly against his navel. You breath through your nose and work the muscles in your throat to massage his length and the loud moan that is torn from his throat has your tail flicking up, cunt nearly pulsing with need.

You pull off of him completely, ignoring the whimper,"You think you've been good?"

He struggles to catch his breath, nodding shakily.

You grin,"I think you have been, too." Then you're gripping his hands and pressing them to your hand, giving him the reigns wordlessly. You keep your eyes on his as you wrap your lips around the tip before taking his entire length into your throat, only to stay still, waiting.

He swallows hard, breathing shakily as he tangles his fingers into your hair and drags your head back only to drag you back down, a delightful sting hitting your scalp.  He bows in on himself, whimpering breathlessly, then creates a steady rhythm, hips lazily rolling his cock into your mouth and throat.

The gaze he has down on you is filthy and he just wants to make a mess of you.

It's then that you decide, what with him doing all the work, to quickly shove your fingers into your tewng to roughly rub at your swollen clit.

He keeps thrusting himself into you, hips bucking harder and harder, becoming more and more erratic and sloppy. His noises have you groaning around him and causing it to vibrate down his cock, to which he thrusts hard enough to have tears leaking from your eyes.

He moans pathetically, not even bothering to attempt to mute the oh, please! So so good, uhhhhn, from his lips and your fingers cramp as you rub between your folds harder. You swallow weakly around his cock, and he whimpers, gripping your hair harder and dragging you down until your nose presses against his navel once more.

"Oh- oh, I can't, mmph," he spasms,"Ah! Thankyouthankyou-"

You're held down firmly as he cums hot and heavy down your throat, to which you automatically swallow happily. It feels as though it lasts a solid minute, and you blink blearily up at him in tearful delight at his face. He's blushing so cute, ears pinned back and fangs bared in a pleasure filled grimace.

He holds you there even after he finishes and your vision begins to get hazy. You've since stopped the rubbing on your clit, shuddering softly.

"Good girl," he whispers quietly, blinking lazily down at you. He pulls you off, groaning at the sight of you sucking at him so greedily.

As soon as he pulls out completely, you gasp for breath, coughing and swallowing thickly.

He slumps to the sand, panting for breath. You two stay like that for a few until he drops his forehead against your shoulder.

"Good boy," you speak with an even more raspy tone, grinning weakly. He kisses your shoulder in response, a faint grin against his mouth.

"I now have better reason to work on the breathing exercises," you giggle, still panting.

He snorts,"You cannot be serious."

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A/N: AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!