#Out with the old and trying to push past this

[kihyunsflavor]

Cold shoulder

Pairing: Feyd-Rautha x f!reader

Summary: You are married to Feyd-Rautha, but on his birthday Margot Fenring follows him in the hallways to lure him into her chambers.

Warnings: smut, heartbreak, angst, pet names, breeding kink, manipulation (not reader)

word count: 4.6k

Author's note: English is not my first language. Feedback is very much appreciated <3

A cold breeze grazes your skin as the door to your shared chambers opens, sending a shiver down your spine. He enters with heavy steps and your breath stops for a moment when you catch a foreign feminine scent in the air. You immediately know.

"I'm back, wife," Feyd Rautha says, slowly approaching where you stand. You don't respond. A painful lump forms in your throat as your emotions are all over the place. Big hands gently grab your waist from behind. The scent of the woman still lingers on his skin. It tightens your chest and turns your stomach. You have never felt so sick before. She had her hands on him and he allowed it.

You don't want to believe your own thoughts, wishing this reality wasn't true. She had taken him from you. Your beloved husband, the person you love more than anyone else, with whom you share everything. He is the center of your world.

You turn to face him. "You're back late..." you say, your voice steady but your lower lip quivering.

For a split second, his expression wavers, confirming your suspicions. Feyd starts to speak, but you cut him off. "Don't bother lying. I can smell her on you."

His eyes widen, a hint of guilt flickering across his face, an emotion you've never seen from him before.

"I didn't want to. The witch invaded my mind," he attempts to explain. But you can't believe him. Not after this. He humiliated you, made you feel worthless.

His hand reaches for your cheek but you push it way. „Don‘t touch me.“

Oh how could he betray you like this? How could he share such an intimate moment with another woman?

„I can't believe you did this," you sway, your voice trembling with dissapointment. Tears well up in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. He's not worth your tears. Not a single one.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. His words pierce your heart, shattering it into pieces.

It kills you.

The room falls into a heavy silence. His eyes plead with you, his hands twitching as if wanting to pull you close. The very thought makes you cringe.

"I never want to see you again," you say as you move past him. He reaches out for you, but you're too quick. Just before disappearing into the dark corridor, you look back at him. "It hurts - so much."

With that, you're gone.

Feyd doesn't follow. He knows he destroyed everything.

You move into a new section of the Harkonnen residence, consisting of a bedroom and a study, far away from your husband. All your belongings and clothes are brought in by your servants to help you settle into your new quarters. You hear whispers among the servants about Feyd's initial anger, refusing to let them move your belongings. Eventually, he seemed to give in and just let them continue, which was unusual for someone like him who rarely yielded so easily. But you pay it no mind, trying to forget about him. He did this to himself.

The first few nights are horrible. You struggle to sleep, feeling alone and haunted by nightmares of him. Each time you see a black veiled woman, luring him into her chambers. When you wake up, your clothes cling to your sweaty skin. You brush your hair back from your face and scan the dimly lit room. It is pretty similar to your old chambers but you've tried to make it feel different with some interior changes.

You hadn't yet discovered who the Bene Gesserit was that had been with your husband, but you were determined to find out.

With your family's influential name, you planned to write to your sister, hoping she could uncover the truth for you.

The days go by slowly, and to your relief you don't see Feyd at all. The pain of looking into his eyes would be too much to bear. Your heart was broken and would take a long time to heal.

You'd never known love before, never had any real crushes growing up. But then, you were sent to marry the na-Baron of Giedi Prime. You hadn't objected, obediently following your father's wishes. Meeting Feyd changed everything. He ignited a passion within you, made you feel enchanted and yearning for him.

Even if he was cold at first, Feyd proved to be a devoted husband. Drawn to your beautiful appearance and your kind but brave soul, it didn't take him long to warm up to you. You could tell he had fallen for you too.

The wedding night marked the peak of your feelings for him, deepening your love. You were nervous he might handle you roughly, especially since it was your first time, so you had asked him not to hurt you. „That‘s what concubines are for. I'd never hurt my wife,“ Feyd had assured you then, having already dismissed his concubines prior to the wedding.

But in the end, his words proved to be a lie. He had kept his promise until now, when he let the Bene Gesserit woman touch him.

It was hard to believe Feyd had done something like this. Loyalty and trust were values he held in high regard. He always looked down on those who lacked loyalty; it was a matter of honor to him.

And now here you are, sitting alone at the table to eat your dinner. You had instructed your servants to bring your meals to your chambers from now on, because there was no chance you'd dine with your husband. Even if he came to fetch you himself, you wouldn't budge an inch. But Feyd hasn't come. Days have passed since you left him, and he still hasn't shown his face, which you're really relieved about.

He knew you well, knew that you needed space, but this time it was different. He couldn't just apologize and gift you something to make amends. This time, there was nothing for you to forgive him for. And if the Bene Gesserit were to get pregnant before you, his actual wife, it would be unbearable.

The thought fills you with anger and jealousy. You wouldn't allow this to happen. You should be the only one to give him an heir.

As you return to your room after a brief stroll through your section, you're surprised to find several packages awaiting you. Despite your reservations, Feyd has still chosen to send gifts. Walking over to inspect them, a servant appears at your side, bowing slightly.

"Na-Baroness, the na-Baron has sent some gifts for you. He hopes you will accept them," the servant explains. Your gaze drifts over the variously sized boxes, and a sigh escapes your lips. "We will send them back. All of them," you declare after a moment. "But let me have a look first." Kneeling down, you carefully open each package, mindful not to damage anything.

Among them are dresses, exquisitely crafted and likely from your home planet. Another holds a perfume you adore, also from your planet. Then there are the traditional Harkonnen jewelry, reserved only for the Baron and his family. You can't help but chuckle at Feyd's selection.

Once you've examined everything, the servants gather the gifts along with your message: Don't ever insult me like this again

Even if this was just the beginning of his attempts to seek forgiveness, Feyd's gesture of sending mere gifts felt somewhat childish.

Days later, you decide to attend the fight held in the Harkonnen arena, knowing full well that Feyd would be present. However, you choose to sit in a secluded area, far removed from his presence.

Your attire consists of a dark red silk dress, a change from your usual colors as the na-Baroness, which typically align with the Harkonnen house's black with silver or red accents. Your jewelry, crafted from rare opal from your home planet, catches the light, accentuating your eyes and lending a radiant glow to your appearance.

Accompanied by two of your favorite servants, you make your way to a seating area. As you settle in, a pair of glasses are provided, allowing you a clearer view of the participants in the fighting circle below.

Slowly, you navigate through the crowd, observing the excitement of the people of Giedi Prime for the fight. Your gaze shifts upward, focusing on the Baron seated high above the arena, his imposing presence making you feel unease. He emanates a terrifying and volatile energy that unsettles you every time.

Continuing on, you reach the spot where the na-Baron and you usually sit. Feyd stands alone in his black suit, his gaze fixed on you. He had waited until you noticed him.

Feeling a twinge in your stomach, you deliberately drop your glasses with controlled movements, concealing the effect his presence has on you. Redirecting your attention to the fighters entering the arena, you're grateful for something to distract you.

Yet, his image replays in your mind. His eyes betray a hint of sadness, dark circles evident beneath his pale complexion. But he had brought this upon himself.

If he hadn't allowed the Bene Gesserit to touch him, you would have been there beside him as always, watching the fight unfold, with his hand possessively resting on your thigh.

Even after a week apart, the pain remains just the same.

The fight was not big spectacle, but it was enough for the crowd. You swiftly retreat to your chambers, after receiving the sign from a servant that the Baron had left. Casting one last glance at Feyd's area, you see his back turned to you. He's likely leaving as well, and you really have no desire to encounter him in the hallways

When you wake up two days later, you notice a basket of fresh fruits sitting on your table. Approaching the gift, you find a small card attached to the handle. Opening it slowly, you read Feyd's handwriting: Please accept these valuable fruits. Feyd.

You stare at the words for a moment, then shift your gaze to the basket. Inside, you see a variety of fruits, many of which are from your own planet and are your favorites —a fact Feyd surely knew. Yet, despite the apparent gesture, you still feel slighted by the simplicity of the gift.

With a dismissive gesture, you instruct the servants to take the basket away. "Share it among the others and send the same message to the na-Baron as before," you command, retreating to your bedroom.

An upcoming event required your presence as husband and wife, na-Baron and na-Baroness. Three days beforehand, you already felt nauseous and contemplated skipping it altogether. However, the Baron's potential anger left you with no choice but to attend.

As the special day approaches, you pace nervously around the room. The prospect of having to play the role of Feyd's wife again fills you with dread. Despite the difficulty, you resign yourself to the task, knowing you must suppress your true emotions and maintain a facade of affection, hiding behind a gentle smile.

In the morning, you receive a package from Feyd, containing a dress intended for the upcoming gathering. The garment, adorned in Harkonnen colors, is tailored to complement his own attire, ensuring a flawless appearance as a couple.

As the servants begin to prepare you for the event, they dress you, adorn you with jewelry, and style your hair elegantly. Avoiding the mirror as much as possible, you can't help but feel a bit of discomfort at the sight of the dress, which reminds you too much of him. The idea that it signifies your connection to him is unsettling, especially since his betrayal with another woman. Prior to that, you had cherished moments when he selected dresses for you or had jewelry crafted from your birthstone.

Once you're ready, you steal a quick glance at your reflection, observing how the dress accentuates your figure. Despite looking beautiful, the nausea persists. You so badly wish to just remain secluded in your chambers, away from him.

Two servants accompany you as you make your way to the grand halls where your husband awaits in front of the towering doors. You catch a glimpse of him, dressed in all black and feel the familiar pain in your chest. It's as if your lungs are pulling themselves together, stealing the air from you.

His gaze is sweeping over you and a faint grin tugs at his lips, but he stops himself quickly. "Good morning, wife," Feyd says, with his deep raspy voice and offers his arm to you. He seems content to see your face up close after two weeks. You halt before him, meeting his towering figure with a glare that could pierce steel. He recognizes the expression, but doesn't show any reaction. You hook your arm into his, taking a deep breath before walking into the grand hall together.

As the event unfolds, nobels from across the galaxy mingle, their voices a symphony of polite conversation. Among them stands the imposing figure of the Baron, his presence commanding attention.

You stand next to Feyd, occasionally engaging in some small talk with others. Despite the pain and betrayal that lingers in between you, you play the roles with practiced ease, upholding the appearance of a happy couple. Yet inside, you feel dull.

In a moment alone, Feyd wraps his arm around your waist. "Let's talk later, wife." He says and gazes into your eyes. You lower your head, staring at his chest and offering no response until he pulls you closer to his body. Slowly, you raise your head and to meet his gaze.

"No, I don't think so," You reply, placing a hand on his chest in an attempt to push him away. But he holds firm, studying your eyes in an attempt to understand your emotions.

"There's nothing to explain, na-Baron," you hiss, putting some distance between the two of you. "I don't want to hear anything. And stop sending me gifts!"

Feyd blinks at your response and takes a step forward. "Just let me finish my sentence. Things have happened that I regret deeply, but I need you to understand why," he begins to explain, but you shake your head. Tears well up in your eyes, and you bite the inside of your cheek to suppress a whimper. "No, no…" Your lips quiver as you respond with a weak voice. "Even just thinking about it hurts me too much." With those final words, you turn on your heel and walk away. Glancing briefly at the Baron to ensure he's occupied, you slip out of the grand hall and return to your chambers.

Your heart races, nearly pounding out of your chest. Feyd's scent made you dizzy, made you longing for him, but you refuse to succumb. You were not one to give in quickly, not even to his beautiful blue eyes. His lips had twitched, after you had raised your head to look at him - his love always displayed so openly for you, unlike his usual expressionless demeanor. And despite everything, you still love him too, but the thought of going back to him, fills you with disgust and pain. He's the one who made you feel this way.

It was not a good night, and the days that followed were just as bleak. The dull ache persisted, and you drift through each day like a ghost. Emptiness pervades every moment, blurring the world around you into a haze. And despite showing not a single emotion to the world, you feel the pain, longing for the warmth of connection that is lost.

After a week had passed since the event, the reply from your older sister finally arrived. You hastily open it, eager to learn whether the Bene Gesserit woman was pregnant. You understood the ways of the Bene Gesserit and didn't object to them, except in this case, where one woman dared to interfere in your marriage. It was all about control.

Since you weren't part of the sisterhood, they needed to ensure a child was born from Feyd that they could raise according to their teachings. However, if they had approached you with a deal for your own child to become a Bene Gesserit, you might not have disagreed.

But this time, you were determined to stand in their way. She wasn't worthy enough to bear your husband's child, especially considering you weren't even pregnant yourself yet.

With trembling hands, you open the scroll and begin to read the message.

Dear sister,

I am deeply troubled by the news you've shared with me. I did not expect this from the na-Baron. But don't worry too much, as I have located the Bene Gesserit. Her name is Margot Fenring, the wife of Count Fenring, the Emperor's advisor. Unfortunately, I couldn't find out why the sisterhood chose her, and I haven't received any updates on a possible pregnancy. Rest assured, I will inform you immediately once I learn more.

With all my love,

Your sister

You stare at the message, sighing heavily. Margot Fenring was a well-known figure in the galaxy, particularly admired for her beauty. Her hair was of a golden blonde with grey-green eyes and attractive figure. However, you weren't concerned about feeling inferior to her; you knew your own beauty had captivated Feyd from the moment he had laid his eyes on you.

The burning question on your mind wasn't why the revered mother had chosen her to seduce Feyd, but rather why she had to intervene at all, and whether she was now carrying his child.

The waiting was unbearable in a situation like this.

A knock sounds on your door, as you put the roll in the drawer of your desk. Curious, you turn around, wondering who could be seeking your attention. Apart from your husband and his two family members, you didn't know anyone else.

With caution, you open the door, only to be met with the sight of Feyd-Rautha. Disappointment flashes across your face, and you sigh, almost closing the door on him again. But Feyd has other plans, his hand holding the door open and making his way into your chambers. Surprised, you walk back a few steps and stare at him. "What are you doing?" you ask, confusion evident in your tone. He doesn't respond, maintaining a cold stare that sends a shiver down your spine. He appears angry or, at the very least, annoyed by your behavior.

As the back of your knees touch your bed, he stops in front of you. "This time, you will listen, wife, or I will tie you to the bed. You can't run away from me every time," Feyd says with a deep, raspy voice. You blink up at him, uncertain of what to do. Part of you wants to escape the uncomfortable situation and to avoid listening to him. But in this moment, he holds full control over you.

A cold finger grazes your jawline softly, lifting your head up. He comes closer, his breath tingling on your skin. "You better listen carefully now. I will explain everything that has happened. Alright?" he tells you, and all you can do is nod your head obediently.

"On this day while I was on my way back to you, I noticed a woman following me. I questioned her about her presence in the area, and she began to manipulate my mind. With a mere blink, I found myself in the witch's room, unable to recall anything except for her whispers in my head," Feyd explains seriously, maintaining eye contact with you.

"She then used the voice on me and forced me to place my hand in a box while holding a sharp object coated with poison to my neck. After passing her test, she continued to use the voice on me throughout the whole time. I couldn't do anything else than listen to her. I tried to break free many times and every time a picture of you flashed in my mind, she redirected my attention back to her," he continues, his eyes darkening as he recounts the experience. You can see the distress he's in as he speaks.

Slowly, your hand raises to cup his cheek, offering comfort. He leans into your touch, visibly relaxing. "Do you know why she came to you?" you inquire, once his nerves are calmed. He nods vaguely. "I am the one who will inherit the title as Baron next, and since you are not a Bene Gesserit, they sent one of them to find out my weakness."

His answer sinks in, and you agree. "That's what I was thinking as well."

Feyd's hands gently cup your face as he leans closer. "I missed you so much, little mouse," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your forehead. You close your eyes, relishing the sensation of his touch, which you've missed dearly.

"What if she is pregnant?" concern creeps into your voice. Feyd meets your gaze, his eyes filled with determination. "Don't worry, my dear. She won't live to give birth to it, if we receive word that she's carrying a baby," he assures you. "You are the only woman who will give me an heir," he adds with a smirk.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "I should have listened earlier. I just couldn't bear it. Nothing made sense anymore," you whisper, your lips brushing against his cheek. He hums in reply, pressing his lips to yours in a long-awaited kiss.

It turns into a heavy makeout session. With tender care, he guides you onto the bed, slowly undressing you as if savoring every moment of intimacy. As he moistens his fingers with his tongue and begins to pump them inside of you, a soft moan escapes your lips, reveling in the sensation of his touch.

Your body arches with pleasure as he prepares you for him, each movement sending waves of ecstasy coursing through you. "Feels so good," you murmur, lost in the sensation. Feyd's grin widens as he leans over you, his touch both tender and tantalizing.

When he decides you're ready, he withdraws his fingers, eliciting a soft whine of longing from you. "It's alright, my little mouse. I will give you what you want," he shushes. As he frees himself from his pants, your hand instinctively reaches for him, eager to feel his hardness in your grasp.

A low groan escapes him at your touch, but he gently removes your hand, his own need evident in his impatient tone. "Not now," He says, his voice thick with lust. "I can't wait any longer to be inside you." With a sense of urgency, he positions himself between your legs, ready to claim you completely.

He gazes down at you with love and care. "You won’t be able to walk tomorrow," he warns with a sly grin, teasing as he lets the tip of his arousal slide between your heated folds before thrusting inside you.

Once fully sheathed within your tight walls, he leans over you, his arms caging your head to support his weight. In this position, he is able to see your face much better. "I will make you forget everything that pained you these past weeks. You are mine," he growls possessively with his lips attached to the sensitive skin of your neck as his hips begin to move in a rhythmic thrust.

At first, his movements are slow and deliberate, punctuated by tender kisses, until you relax completely under his touch and he increases the pace. Your legs are lifted up over his shoulders, allowing him to penetrate even deeper, luring whimpers of pleasure from you as your nails dig into the porcelain skin of his back.

"So tight. Taking me so well, little mouse," he praises softly near your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Your walls contract around him, gripping him tighter, causing him to groan in pleasure. "Stop it, I'm not going to last if you keep tightening up like this," he warns you, his head falling back in pleasure.

But the sensation feels too good to stop, and you beg him to just come inside you with your voice hazy with desire. Feyd's eyes sparkle at your pleads. "Touch yourself," He orders, encouraging you.

It doens't take long for you to reach your climax, gripping his shoulders for support and screaming his name. He watches your face intently, praising you. "Yes that's it, good girl. Come on my cock."

Without letting you fully come down from your high, he starts to thrust deeper. “Going to fill you up now, you want that?” You whine at his words, nodding impatiently. “You'll look beautiful with my baby inside of you, all big and swollen.” His words drive you insane and with each thrust, he pushes you both closer.

With a final thrust, he releases himself inside you, bringing you to another climax as the room fills with both of your cries of pleasure.

"Afterwards, he takes good care of you, cleaning your sensitive skin with a wet cloth and ensuring you're comfortable in bed. His arms find their way around your body, pulling you closer.

"I haven't slept well since you left," he admits, nuzzling his face into your neck. You chuckle at the sensation because it tickles.

"I also slept horribly," you respond, your hand caressing the back of his neck. But tonight, you sleep better than you have in weeks, knowing your husband is right there beside you, and you never want to let go again.

Fortunately, it's only a week later when another message from your sister reaches you. As you read through it with full concentration, a lump forms in your throat due to the wave of emotions that washes over you.

"She's not pregnant," you inform Feyd, who stands before you. His eyes visibly brighten with relief and he moves closer to embrace you tightly. No words are needed, you can feel each other's emotions clearly.

"Don't worry, my dear. I'll deal with the punishment for the Bene Gesserit," Feyd assures you after a while of holding each other. His anger still simmers, just as intense as the night Margot Fenring used the voice on him. He won't let it slide easily.

You find comfort in knowing that Feyd will handle the situation, likely with the help of his uncle, the Baron. But for now, you push aside all thoughts of pain, focusing on the relief of the moment.

On the same day, after rearranging the last few items in your shared chamber, which you hastily moved back into, a gleaming blade catches your eye. Your husband possesses a collection of blades in various sizes and styles, but you recognize this one as his favorite - the one he always carries with him. You approach the desk and study the blade intently.

Suddenly, strong arms wrap around your body, and you gasp quietly in surprise. "This one is for you," Feyd whispers behind you. Your eyes remain fixed on the knife, his words sinking in.

This blade holds significant importance to him, having accompanied your husband since his childhood when he first learned to fight. It's a profound gesture of trust and affection that he would gift it to you now. Despite the Harkonnen's reputation for brutality and coldness, they occasionally reveal their emotions to those they love. This blade serves as a metaphor, symbolizing Feyd's gift of his heart to you forever.

[meidiary]

( 📁 ) THINGS THEY DO WHEN THEY'RE CRUSHING ON YOU !

synopsis: the strawhats think they're so subtle with their 'nonchalant` acts of love towards you... 😒 they're not

character: sanji, zoro & luffy

warning: pure tooth rotting fluffy fluff & nicknames

mei's note: guess who's back from her hibernation 👋😔.. but on the bright side- l do have loads planned hihhih <3

SANJI thinks he's so very casual when displaying his crushing feelings. but in reality it is the complete opposite, considering:

♡ the stolen glances of you during meals with all the strawhats, where he doesn't even eat anything, instead being totally engrossed in your cute laughs derived from usopp's unfunny jokes. the way your fingers gently hold your fork always piques his interest. he studies your facial expressions when you taste the food he prepared for everyone, to figure out whether you enjoy it. if you did enjoy the meal, expect to see it thrice as much as usual..

♡ the lingering touches you receive from sanji anytime he has the chance, which, on a side note, never cease to make your cheeks burn;

he needs to get past you to grab some plates => his hands, almost instinctively, gently grab your waist before he lowers his head, asking you "if you don't mind, darling-". one of his hands remains on the sides of your waist even when you've moved aside to let him pass. "thank you," he whispers in your ear, making the hairs on your neck stand. you awkwardly giggle, not finding an appropriate answer.

luffy was letting his 6-year-old child mentality take over; jumping around on deck and bothering the other strawhats trying to get accustomed to the sun shining so early in the morning. he didn't see you walking out of your shared room with nami before accidentally bumping into you, causing you to trip => sanji is there before you could even process the situation. one of his arms tightly holding your legs. In contrast, his other arm was wrapped around your waist, pushing you onto him. "luffy, you little-!" sanji realizes he still has you in bridal style when he cuts himself off, "are you alright, sweetheart? you're not hurt, are you?" he could've sworn your soft smile melted his heart right then and there, even the other strawhats noticed how absolutely smitten this man is for you.

♡ the abundant patience sanji offers you is one of a kind. you won't find him smiling, oh so softly, at any strawhat's mistakes except yours. it's only you that he's so careful with, so gentle and soft-spoken. treating you as if you were a fragile vase, that one wrong move would break you.

"sweetheart- that's not how you cut a carrot," sanji chuckles, witnessing how you, somehow, accidentally mushed the carrot with the knife instead of cutting it. usopp lets out a cackle as he sees the mush which has derived from your cutting skills.

"only you could mess up cutting a carrot!" sanji glares at usopp, making him cover his mouth, trying to sniffle the laugh. he slowly walks out of the kitchen, slightly scared sanji might throw him overboard.

"let's try something else, yeah?" the blond-haired cook smiles at you.

he stands behind you, holding both your hands with his, before grabbing the knife with your right hand and holding a new carrot with your left one. like a puppet master, he controls the motions of your hands, and after a bit, you find the carrots all sliced up. "see? knew could do it," sanji caresses your hands with his.

"sanji..?" you mutter, leaning against his chest.

he looks down at you and hums, waiting for you to say whatever was on you mind. "can we eat now?"

you receive a chuckle from sanji as he nods. "of course darling, we can eat now. thanks a lot for helping me," he sends you a smile before grabbing the plates.

ZORO knows he's being way too obvious with you, but he frankly just doesn't care enough. everyone and their mother knows he has a crush on you tolerates you more than other people because of:

♡ how protective he is of you. this man won't let a fly harm you, let alone actual enemies during fights. he'd rather come back with some more scars than let them lay a finger on you. hence why you find yourself in the current situation.

zoro's sat down whilst hearing both you and nami lash out on him. a sigh leaves his mouth.

"why are you so stubborn?!" you cry out, eyes red and watery from the sheer fear of almost having lost him.

nami shakes her head, dumbfounded. "you could've fucking died, zoro. has that thought ever crossed your small fucking mind, huh?!"

"I was fine zoro.. I would've made it.. you- you didnt have to-" you utter before cutting yourself off, lip wobbling with tears-stained cheeks. "just.. don't ever do that again, 'kay?" you stand inbetween his widespread legs, your hands meet both sides of his face, pulling it to meet your eyes. "please.."

as if on que, his eyes soften and his furrowed eyebrows loosen immediately. he lets out yet another sigh, but this time, one of defeat. "alright." zoro's heart aches at the sight of those tears on your pretty face. it aches even more knowing he was the cause of them.

the strawhats are astonished, flabbergasted and, on top of that, even a bit annoyed at how easily zoro folded. at that very moment sanji, nami and usopp shared collective eyecontact, they knew how down bad he was. and now they have yet another thing to bully him about..

♡ his over-the-top jealousy has you and everyone within a 100m radius of you in a chokehold. no one dares to as much as look your way anymore. zoro made sure of that. if someone even breathes too hard near you, this man will be on his way to knock him out.

♡ the fact that he has his hands on you 24/7, always seems so obvious and nonchalant to him. he doesn't even think twice about it anymore. his arm around your shoulders, his hand spread on your back, him shamelessly holding your waist with one of his hands while the other is occupied holding some bags.

his arm is wrapped around your waist as you two stand in line. you had gotten the task to do the groceries with zoro, but once you say a smelled a sweet, floraly fragrance, both you and zoro knew this 'short' and 'easy' task would take much longer than planned.

"i'll be super quick, zoro, I promise!" you giggle as you look up at him reassuring. "mhm, ya said that last time, too, remember? ended up taking a whole day, and somehow I had to carry all those bags for ya," zoro raises his brows at you playfully, knowing very well he'd hold all the bags in the world for you if you'd want him to.

"yeah~ i know.. thank you," you smile at him, receiving an eye roll from him. "yeah, yeah, now hurry up and get movin'." you move along to catch up with the que, missing the way he smiles as you so absolutely adored.

LUFFY himself doesn't realize he treats you differently from the other strawhats. most of the things he does because of his little crush on you usually don't even register in him. but to the strawhats, it's so obvious he likes you due to:

♡ him attentively listening to you whenever you speak, never fails to shock the other strawhats. they could go hours on end, scolding luffy for whatever possible thing he had done, and there would be a good chance he wouldn't even bat an eye. but when you do it- that's when he gets serious.

"luffy! stop fucking around and get serious!" nami yells out, trying to get his attention. "LUFFY!"

luffy keeps peeling the banana in his hand, not paying all too much attention to what nami is on about. it's not that he doesn't care! it's just that this yelling gets repetitive, so he doesn't really pay attention to all the small quarrels every now and then. he's listening to what she's saying, he really is! he just doesn't want to enter the argument.

but then his eyes shoot up from his half-peeled banana. you were talking to him. " 'luf, what we're trying to get at is that you were acting very reckless, and you got us really worried about you, y'know.." you cross your arms over each other before making eye contact with the raven-haired captain.

"sorry," luffy mutters wholeheartedly, looking you in the eyes. his previous grin disappeared after he heard you speak to him. "i'll try not to anymore, 'kay?" he opens the banana completely and points it your way, wanting you to take a bite.

you smile and head over to the spot he's seated in and take a piece of the fruit before leaning against the back of the seat. "sorry I scared you, sunshine..." luffy mutters, soft enough for only you to hear. "really didn't mean to.."

you let out a small sigh of relief. " 'ts alright 'luf! just promise you'll be more careful from now on.. please," you lean against the side of his body as you rise your head, looking at the beautiful night view from the boat.

"i promise I'll try, sunshine, I really will." and with that, his usual toothy smile is back.

nami rolls her eyes as she scoffs, as she munches on some of the pastry sanji had prepared earlier. sanji nudges zoro to witness the scene unfolding before their eyes. usopp sniffles his laugh with his hand, hiding behind zoro.

they could all agree on the fact that you were his soft spot.

♡ his usual grin being replaced with a soft smile whenever you speak is another thing that luffy never realizes. yet the others do.

you'd speak about the most mundane chores or moments you've experienced. albeit it being some of the most tedious things known to man, he'd listen so thoughtfully. as if anticipating a shocking ending, yet there in reality, he wasn't anticipating anything like that. he genuinely just lived your voice.

the way you pronounce the words. the small differences in pronunciation between you and others always bring a small to his face, he finds it absolutely adorable. the specific words you use to describe something never cease to make him smile ear to ear.

plus points if you're talking about something you're passionate about. he'd be so overwhelmed with how endearing you look speaking about your hobbies and loves. the small smile on your pretty face, growing wider and your tone getting giddier.

in conclusion, this man loves to listen to you yap about anything, to be honest.

mei's note pt.2 : also if you've seen this post before it was finished (bc someone accidentally published it before it was done) no you didn't...

[peachysunrize]

Lemon Tart ⥃ Prince! Aemond (p.1)

Summary: after six years of searching for his lover, Aemond comes across her bakery in Flea Bottom with his betrothed.

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, royalty x commoner, infidelity, Alicent’s a bit more uptight here, angst angst angst, oral (M! Receiving), mentions of war, they lost their virginity at 16, English isn’t my first language<3

Word count: 5.2k

a/n: hi!! I had to re-edit this and post it, I just had to lol. But given the circumstances, I hope you’ll ignore this if it isn’t your cup of tea. Do not make fun of my english please I’m not a native speaker🩷 reblog and comments are most appreciated<3

Shoutout to my girl, @namelesslosers , for beta reading my work🥹🫂

It disgusted Aemond to no end that King’s Landing’s streets smelt this horrible, and having his betrothed by his side, walking among the commoners only added to his unmanageable frustration.

Cassandra Baratheon was as tolerating as a Baratheon could be; exceptionally loud and obnoxious, clingy and always cheerful, and totally the opposite of Aemond. And when she set her mind on something, there was no way she would accept anything but whatever she desired.

That’s why Aemond found himself glaring at anyone who dared cross their path. He had to put up with his betrothed obsession as she stopped at every shop she could find, buying unnecessary things to waste his money on and be happy so he could do his duty without her nose sticking into his business.

He was cautious as they neared a bakery in the dark corner of the alley. Guardsmen were ready to slaughter whoever they thought was a threat to Prince and his beloved wife-to-be.

Cassandra approached the shop, looking at different pastries, cakes, loaves of bread, and little desserts that were freshly baked. 

“Aemond we have to buy some!” She whined like she always did when she wanted something. And he was sick of hearing that damned nose again for the millionth time that day.

“Of course,” he replied coldly. He gave her another bag of gold and ushered her closer to the bakery. He watched as people left the bakery as soon as they got closer, afraid of the One-eyed prince.

Cassandra stood behind the stool, watching as the baker – you –  ran around the little shop with haste to get every order done. She cleared her throat, head held high as she glared at your back for not answering her.

“When a Princess is standing in your presence, you will bow and do as she says,” she whines again, trying to push past the wooden stool to get into your shop.

“You are yet to be a princess,” Aemond caught her arm, pulling her back harshly as he kept his face emotionless.

You froze, turning towards the royal couple standing in front of your bakery. The white hair, violet eye, and leather eyepatch; you remembered him so well. Every second you had spent together was playing in front of you, and all of a sudden you felt as if the walls of the bakery were falling on you, but you had to appear strong, after all, you left everything behind and moved on.

“My prince,” you said with a shaky voice, “My lady, how may I help you on this fine morning?” You smiled at them, swallowing harshly as you tried to avoid Aemond’s gaze as he stared at you.

Maybe he didn’t remember you, but how much a person could change in six years? You looked the same, a bit more mature. You could see how he was fighting the urge to keep staring at you and figuring you out. You prayed to the old gods that he didn’t recognize you, you were nowhere ready to experience his famous wrath and cruelty.

“Finally,” The lady huffed, “a loaf of your freshest bread and three strawberry cakes. They look delicious, don’t they, Aem?”

Your heart dropped when you heard her calling him by the nickname he only allowed you to call him. Maybe they were closer than you thought, but at that moment Aemond proved you wrong.

“Don’t ever call me that again, do you understand?” He warned her, his eye boring into hers as he frowned down at her. She nodded immediately, looking at her joined hands in front of her.

“Anything for you, my prince?” Finally, you regarded him. You couldn’t breathe when his eye locked with yours. You didn’t know how to feel, fear? Yearning? Pain? Love? You just stood there, staring into each other’s eyes. His gaze was intense like it had always been – since his childhood to now, he liked to look through everything and everyone, and then, he wanted to figure you out.

You wished for nothing but to melt away from his heated gaze as you waited for him to reply. He still had that effect on you which you became easily flustered around him, and it gave him a sense of power he had always craved.

“Lemon tart,”

You nodded and turned around quickly, not wishing to look upon his face anymore. He remembered everything, and he showed it with two simple words. You wanted to sob right there, but you had a job, and angering the prince of the realm and his future lady wife would be the last thing you needed.

You massaged your neck slowly as you walked to where you kept the sweets and cakes. The lady’s order was ready and you went to grab the latest lemon tart you had baked; lemon tart with sugar powder on top and slices of lemon and different berries – just how he liked. You could remember exactly from the day you opened your bakery this particular dessert was everyone’s favorite, and whenever you baked, it reminded you of how he would assist you.

Shaking your head to get rid of the beautiful memories, you put the cake inside the box and handed them all to the guards that were standing there.

“Is there anything else that you wish for?” you asked politely, looking at Cassandra, not Aemond.

“No,” He said curtly, grabbing the bag of gold from his betrothed and dropping it on the stool in front of you before he turned his back and left without another word being said. You thanked him quietly, watching him distance himself.

Why did it hurt to watch him leave? It shouldn't have hurt you at least, because you did the same thing, but never allowed him to watch you leave. You were just…gone from his life one day and he couldn’t do anything. Perhaps the gods deemed fit to punish you for your past actions, and years ago you had made your peace with it. But why did it feel like an arrow to your chest as you stared at his white hair that fell around his shoulders like moonlight waterfalls?

  —-------

  A few weeks passed and every day a royal guard would come to your bakery to order a lemon tart for his highness. You felt dreadful when you had to pack yet another box for The prince and all whilst you had to wipe the tears from your eyes. 

You didn’t get a blink of sleep because your mind was too occupied with Aemond Targaryen. You spent days crying and begging for the gods to take your life over the past six years but they didn’t. You were sure they wanted to see how you’d crumble to your feet and about the one that got away. The taste of happiness had been long gone from your life ever since you were forced to leave the castle; you had left your two loved ones behind.

One evening, you closed the bakery sooner, even though the guard didn’t come that day. The orange lights of the fireplace gave some sort of life to the dull room with all the scented candles you had lightened a few minutes ago.

A knock on your door brought you out of your train of thought. You were basically lonely in this neighborhood, just a few older shopkeepers who worked nearby, even your regular customers didn’t know you lived upstairs.

Aemond Targaryen was standing outside your door, with a brown bag in his hand. 

“My Prince, I-” You didn’t know how to react. You were confused, shocked, and a little flustered. 

“Can I come in?” He asked for permission, looking over your shoulder to see your home.

“Yes, oh, sure,” You stood aside, opening the door for him to walk in.

He was silent as he observed his surroundings. Your home was welcoming even though it was much smaller than his chambers, it still felt livelier than anywhere he had set foot in.

“I beg your pardon, this is not a place befitting you, my prince-”

“Nonsense, this is quite alright,” he replied hurriedly. 

He was anxious; the feared one-eyed prince was anxious about meeting his past friend – lover – and he couldn’t hide it. When he was near her, his emotions were all over the place. It felt right to tell her everything, he felt safe with her even after being apart for years.

“How can I help you then, my prince?” you asked, biting your lip in anticipation.

You couldn’t see his face, but you were aware of how tense his shoulders would get whenever you called him by his title. He had never been the prince for you, even when you were kids.

“Stop,” he inhaled, “stop calling me that.”

“I can’t, my price-”

“Yes, you can!” suddenly he raised his voice, making you flinch away from him, “Aemond is fine.” he continued with a hushed voice after how you retreated from him.

“I brought a few things,” He handed you the bag, finally having time to look at you thoroughly; your hair was down, you were wearing a simple loose dress that fell on your knees, and you were bare feet. You looked just as he remembered, so simple and gentle as if the gods had made you for him. Back then he thought you were sent from heaven, and now you looked even more beautiful with how mature you had grown.

“Eggs and milk?” you smiled at him, hesitant to know the reason.

“I thought perhaps we could bake a lemon tart together.” His words were rushed. He was scared of your rejection and you caught on to it quickly.

“Sure,” you replied, walking towards the little kitchen you had, “I know there isn’t much space…”

“It is enough for both of us,” 

“Alright, then let’s start, Aemond.”

You missed the weight of his name on your tongue, how you used to say it with joy and laughter, how you used to moan in it when your bodies molded together perfectly. And he missed hearing it from you. His name never felt the same after you left, not even when his sister said it.

You both started working in sync like old times when you’d sneak him into the castle’s kitchen and teach him how to bake different breads and pastries but Lemon tart was always his favorite — you had brought a piece of it for him after he lost his eye.

He remembered how you both would mess up the large kitchen at midnight with flour and fruit juices as you started baking together ever since the incident. Every night he’d meet you in the hallway near the maids’ rooms and you tiptoe towards the kitchen while giggling all the way.

You made him smile even at his lowest.

You started with pouring the milk and him taking care of the eggs, your bodies close to each other after years of running towards each other without ever reaching the destination.

You watched as he took off his leather coat and rolled up his sleeves, grabbing the flour he had found in one of your cabinets. You mixed as you observed his hands; rough cuts of sword swinging and dragon riding on them, and you saw the little mark of the place he had burnt himself while you were in the kitchen together.

You felt the heat of his body on your back while you were mixing the ingredients. He was close, so close that his hot breath was on your neck, his hands caging your body as soon as you tried to move away from him. He came there with purpose, and he wouldn’t back down until he got what he needed.

“Aemond,”

He quickly retreated from you, snatching the bowl out of your hands. You walked to the fireplace immediately, not daring to look at him. Both of you were on edge, you desired the closeness but the fear pushed everything down the cliff. You knew he wasn’t there just for a lemon tart, he was there for answers that you had buried deep down.

You had no idea how long it passed while you stared at the flames, but it had to be a solid two hours of silence when he came back with two plates and a lemon tart with sugar powder and chopped fruits on top – just how he liked it.

You put a piece on his plate and sat down as you stared at the tart in yours. It had been so long since you had been with him in a room, or baked with him. It felt strange yet so nostalgic. He sat next to you as he ate in silence, not once meeting your eyes but you knew his eyes were scanning you from head to toe. 

The first bite melted on your tongue, the sweet and sour flavors were always your favorite combinations. You smiled, remembering how much Aemond loved to add more lemon to the mix just to see how your face scrunched as you ate it. 

“It tastes delicious. Thank you,” you said, finally looking up from your plate to see him already looking at you with wide eyes.

He was always hard to read with all the walls he had built around himself. There were rare occasions that he’d smile or even laugh when you were around after the loss of his eyes. Eventually, he grew more comfortable around you, sometimes the little Aemond joked and tried to make you laugh.

He was a prince, and you were a maid’s daughter; you couldn’t be seen with each other, hence the reputation he had to uphold because of his title. At that time when you were both eleven, you found it funny how he couldn’t join you for meals, or how he talked when he was with his grandsire.

But as you grew up, the feelings that had been planted since your childhood bloomed and they became complicated and hard to ignore. You watched him in balls and gatherings on the king’s behalf, he dressed so well and you found your eyes following his every move. He danced with highborn ladies, who he told you were forced to do so, and you just stood in the corner of the hall. 

Your worlds were so different, he had a bright future ahead of him with his future lady wife and you? You had no idea what you wanted to do.

“Do you still bake in the castle?” You asked with a hushed voice.

“No,” it was curt, and you nodded your head in acknowledgment. After all, it wasn’t easy to talk about this particular issue.

“I am not keen on wasting my time, but I have a question that has been left unanswered for six fucking years.”

Aemond Targaryen was a man of honor and dignity. He held his chin high and burnt everyone by looking at them like the dragon he truly was — and he never cussed. Your eyes widened at how miserable he looked.

“Why did you leave?” His eye bore into yours as he glared at you. 

You were scared, you wanted to run away again, and you did — you stood up and tried to walk to the kitchen, but Aemond was fast on his feet and grabbed your elbow before you could make it past him.

“Don’t,” he warned you, and you had no choice but to oblige as he pointed at your bed in the corner of the room.

“Sit and give me an explanation for keeping me in the dark for six years.” He stood in front of you, holding his hands behind his back.

“Why did you leave?”

Your eyes watered, you couldn’t even form a word as you remembered how you left him. But he was in your house again, perhaps it could be your last chance to show him how much you loved him by explaining everything about your departure.

  ~ It happened so fast, Queen Alicent had come to the maids’ area with Ser Cole on the toe as they searched for her son who had missed breakfast. If it wasn’t for the girls who had talked about the noises they heard last night, she wouldn’t be able to find him.

She didn’t need to ask anyone to know which maid she should search for. She knew you and his son were friends, and as much as she disapproved you made Aemond happy, by just being his friend and nothing more. 

You were awake, doing your morning duties in the kitchen. You hummed and baked the sweets Princess Heleana asked you to while you thought about your night with the prince. You smiled to yourself sheepishly remembering he was still sleeping naked in your not-so-comfortable bed. The night was full of intimate moments, and he took his time with you; memorizing every curve of your body, every scratch. He kissed your scars and caressed the soft skin of your hips as he desired.

Sixteen and in love, what a blissful life.

Queen Alicent interrupted your daydreaming when she appeared in the kitchen, demanding the other maids to leave you alone. All the girls rushed out without glancing your way, too scared to even breathe as they filled out the kitchen.

You bowed, keeping your gaze on your feet as she glanced around herself. Never did you think you would see the queen in the kitchen, but there you were, and it could only mean one thing.

“Losing your virtue to the prince of the realm must be your highest achievement, Y/N.” Your heart dropped, sweat beading on your palms as you kept your head bowed down. You were caught, and all the punishment and consequences of your teenage sins would fall upon you — after all, no one dared to say an ill word towards Aemond Targaryen under his mother’s watch.

“At least now you can keep your mouth shut,” she sighed, pacing with her hands behind her back, “your lewd sounds were heard by the other girls. I know my son, he wouldn’t stoop this low to warm a maid’s bed. How did you trick him into this?”

You didn’t — couldn’t — say a word. Your mind was blank, the queen’s harsh words cut deep and you took the blow every time she spoke. She shouldn’t know it was Aemond’s idea, even if you told her, she wouldn’t believe you. 

“Look at me,” she grabbed your chin, yanking your face upwards with her fingers digging into your cheeks. Tears streamed down your face as you looked into Alicent’s eyes. 

“I love him,”

A simple confession that led you and Aemond to the current situation. He was the one to barge into your room and said those three words, and you followed him. He was your childhood friend, your baking partner, and he became your lover last night.

“Oh, so you love him. Well, if you truly love my son, you will leave the castle and stay as far away as you can from him. He has a future ahead of him, a duty to fulfill and you only drag him down to the mud with your filthy hands.”

She looked into your teary eyes, no sympathy in her voice as she gestured to Cole to escort you to your room. You couldn’t defend yourself, you were no one in her eyes, or anyone for that matter. Your only solace was Aemond, not the passionate lover nor the prince, just your friend, and then you were leaving him.

Cole waited outside as you gathered your clothes and found a little bag you found under the same bed Aemond was sleeping on. Quietly, you walked towards him, pushing a few of the strands of his hair out of his face. He stirred slightly but didn’t wake up. You pressed one last peck on his forehead and scar before you left him for good.~

Aemond stood in front of your bed, watching you sob as you told him what had truly happened that day. His face was emotionless, but you were good at reading him ever since you had spent nearly every day together. He clenched his fist, taking a shaky breath in while he listened to you.

Everything started to make sense when he was reminded of his mother’s words after he left your room to find you but he saw The Queen in the kitchen. She told him you left him with no remorse, you just took what you wanted from your Targaryen prince and left the castle wishing for his child to take — and he believed it.

But there you were; sitting on your bed, body shaking with sobs and tears, and no sign of a child around you. He had been fooled for years. He had been searching the entire city and couldn’t find you because of his mother and the City Watch.

He knelt on the floor, his eye telling you every word he couldn’t utter. You knew him like the back of your hand; he wasn’t good with words, and he was in disbelief at what you had told him.

You did what you had wanted to do for so long; you fell limp into his arms, hugging him close as your sobbing grew louder. The smell of sandalwood and leather was calming, the scent was a nice reminder of what it felt like to be close to him.

He wrapped his arms around you instantly, pulling your body impossibly close to his. He had to remind himself it was real that you were with him again and the agony of not seeing you was over.

He kissed your exposed shoulder like he always did when he tried to calm you down, and you melted within his arms. None of you dared to say a word, too afraid of breaking this blissful spell you had created. 

You pulled back a little to take a good look at his handsome face. His jaw had become a bit sharper, he looked more mature and gorgeous than you remembered. He looked like those princes from fantasy books who’d save you from a curse just by kissing you.

At that moment, all you wanted was to taste him. And taste him you did.

He met you halfway, his lips touching yours slowly. You moved together, chasing each other’s taste as you poured all the unsaid words into the kiss. The sugary taste of the desert you had was a cherry on top when his tongue met yours.

There was no rush, but the amount of lost time made you both hungry for each other.

You pulled his clothes off, latching your lips to his exposed neck. Aemond couldn’t care less about his betrothed, he had you in his arms, and being in an arranged engagement with the woman he had no feelings for was the last of his worries.

He stripped you out of your dress, his fingers brushing over your hardened nipples. He missed the way you sighed when you were content, and he wanted to make sure that he would create a wonderful night for you.

He sat on the bed with you straddling him, whimpering when you grind yourself down on his bulge. You kissed down his neck while he was kneading your breasts, pinching and squeezing the soft flesh here and there.

“Lay down, Aem.” You commanded gently, pushing him on his back while you sat on your knees between his legs, “I have a lot to make up for.”

His breathing became irregular as you kissed down his chest, hands roaming his toned body as you made your way down to his pants. You undid the laces and pulled the fabric down. He helped you take them off completely, leaving him fully naked to your lustful gaze.

His cock was already aching hard and you didn’t waste any more time before you grabbed him in your hands, stroking him gently. He looked at you through his hooded eye, watching you closely when you wrapped your lips around the tip. His head fell back on your pillow when you sucked on it a little. 

It had been so long for both of you to be intimate with someone else that it left you both impatient and needy for more.

You twirled your tongue around him, taking him deeper into your hot mouth. He was breathless already, and he was having a very hard time not unleashing the beast and taking you as he desired. So before his self-control vanished, he pulled you up and smashed his lips to yours. He couldn’t take it anymore, he would go insane if he wasn’t inside you for a second longer. 

You took your underwear off, feeling the wetness of your cunt dripping down your inner thighs a bit. Aemond helped you straddle him again with his hands guiding your hips back and forth on his cock as you rubbed your needy pussy on him.

You moaned — that sweet sound that he would burn the world for just to hear again. You kept yourself up by your hands on his chest as he helped you sit down on his cock, pushing him inside your welcoming hole with a whine.

You leaned down, pushing his eyepatch out of his face slowly, giving him enough time to stop you — but he never did. You looked at the scar that brought you to him, the sapphire that filled the socket glinted and you couldn’t help but press your lips to his eyelids as carefully as you could. He looked fragile beneath you, and you wanted to reassure him, to make him feel safe and wanted and loved again.

He stretched you out and filled you up perfectly. There was no pain, just a slight discomfort at first as you grew used to his size. Meanwhile, he thought he had died and he was in heaven. He had you on top of him — naked in all your glory — with his cock buried deep inside you. 

“I missed you, Aem.” It came out as another moan when you rolled your hips.

You rode him for long minutes, kissed, and spent time in each other’s arms as he gave you the pleasure you craved for so long. 

Aemond took you in different positions, he made love to you, fucked you at some point, and let you take control when he wanted to just worship your body. He would kiss wherever his lips could reach, and with each press on your skin, you felt fireworks throughout your body.

Your bodies molded together as you both came together; a long, heartwarming, and overwhelming release that you had been pathetically desiring for years.

You were so lost in pleasure that you didn’t notice when he cleaned both of you and laid next to you on your bed. There wasn’t much space for both of you, so Aemond laid you on his chest as he snuggled closer to you. He breathed you in, wishing for this moment to last until his last day alive.

You fell asleep immediately, and you hadn’t been able to do so because it was always him who pulled you into a deep slumber. 

He felt safe enough to whisper his devotion into your ear while you slept in his arms. He hoped he could run away from the war and take you away on the dragon's back. He wanted to spend his days with you by his side, but he thanked the gods for this night even though he had not thought about what would be happening at dawn.

  —————

  The sun rose, and the first rays of sunshine hit Aemond’s face. He stirred a little, nuzzling his nose into your hair as he tried to fall asleep again. He didn’t want his time to end with you this soon before he was forced back to put on the mask again. 

The sound of horses and a carriage approaching the bakery was enough to put him on edge. He gently let go of you, pulling the covers over your body before he put on his eyepatch, white undershirt, and pants. He didn’t care if any of the commoners saw him there, after all, he would visit the neighborhood more often from now on.

He came downstairs, his eyes meeting his mother’s eyes as soon as she stood in front of the bakery. How did she know you were there, moreover, how did she know he was there?

“Your future wife has a large mouth, son,” Alicent said, watching his every move.

“What do you want?”

He tried to control his temper when his mother chuckled at his little burst of anger.

“Why her?” She asked.

“Because she makes me feel loved.” 

His answer was simple, and it made sense to the queen why he would choose you out of everyone. She remembered how you were always around Aemond when he was alone, you helped him with almost everything and never humiliated him, unlike his cousins and brother.

“She has to leave, Aemond—“

“You are not taking her away from me again!” He raised his voice, “Not when I have found the only source of the light in my miserable life. You will not sink your claws in her again, I will never allow you to ruin our chances of happiness.”

“We are at war, and you are promised to Lady Baratheon—“

“I do not care less about the names and titles,” he sighed, “not when she is who I have loved unconditionally for my whole life.”

Alicent walked closer to him until she could cuo his face.

“In the depth of war, love does not win, son. It is logic and pain and suffering that will bring us victory. We cannot fight against the wrath of Lord Baratheon when he hears of your affair.”

He was about to answer when you interrupted them.

“Her majesty is right, Aem.” You sounded so defeated and defenseless.

They both looked at you and for the second time in the time you had known Aemond, you saw him shed a tear. 

Queen Alicent stood back, giving you enough space to talk to him.

You wrapped your arms around his torso, resting your head on his chest as you listened to his heartbeat.

“I have to leave, for the safety of our love.” You said, pecking his lips gently. He kissed back immediately, giving you a final kiss before you vanished from his life again.

“Avy jorrāelan,” I love you.

“I love you, too, Aem. I love you so much.” You kissed him again hurriedly, and he kept you close, not wanting to let you go.

“I hope your seed takes this time so I can have you with myself wherever I go,” you whispered in his ear, “come find us after the war, so we can bake lemon tarts for our silver-haired kids.”

You broke apart and followed Ser Cole to the carriage they had prepared for you after you bowed to the queen.

You left him again with an oath he had to fulfill; he would come to find you when the time was right.

[gojoath]

ಣ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ LEARN TO PLAY NICE, OKKOTSU YŪTA

you know that your boyfriend yūta could be a little bit… difficult, but as much as you love him, you can’t let him get away with it all the time.

summary. fem reader. yandere yūta. obsession. manipulation. stalking. yandere themes. aged up characters. fingering. teasing. you try to scold yūta. slight arguments. fem oral receiving. jealousy. toxic relationships. wc, 5.1k.

note. repost from my old series :)

it’s badly timed, the way yuuta’s been called away for a mission tomorrow, just days after your last party together— since the incident during the game. he knows you’re being different, you’re being distant and he doesn’t want to leave you — but can he trust you? he doesn’t know what’s changed but something has.

when you got home that night you could barely look at him. it was like you were accusing him of something — like he’d done something wrong but he’s not done anything, it was noritoshi who was teasing him with your history, who was trying to rile him up — like he was trying to take you, take what’s his, you’re his girlfriend. nobody will ever come between you, is it so bad for him to make sure everyone knows that?

but now yuuta leaves tomorrow — albeit it’s only for a few days until his mission is over and he’ll make sure it ends quickly. he’ll work hard if it means he’ll get back to you sooner rather than later. he’d do anything if it meant it got him back by your side. you know that, don’t you? 

your apartment is quiet as your boyfriend opens the door, sliding off his shoes and pulling his katana from across his chest to rest it in the hallway. the space is mostly only illuminated by the natural light outside — it’s still only around 4pm but he still notices the dull lamp light that’s coming from the living room as he follows the inviting glow. he knows that’s where he’ll find you — he knows you best afterall. your routine, your preferences, your everything.

and he does, yuuta smiles as he pushes past the door in the living room to see you sitting on the couch. you look like you’ve been out already, you’re dressed in a shirt and a mini little skirt as you scroll through your phone. the image of you sitting there makes his cock twitch, like it’s pulling him towards you as his eyes flick across your figure, lingering slightly on the way the fabric of your clothes expose the plush of your thighs.

it does make something ache in him slightly — you never mentioned you were going out today, especially not with him. did you go out because you knew he’d be at work? because you’re trying to avoid him? you know he never liked you wearing clothes like that when he wasn’t there to protect you, to steer away any prying eyes that might think you’re ripe for the picking. not when you’re yuuta’s.

but he swallows it down as he approaches you, replacing the burn in his throat with that same kind-hearted smile he always wears.

“are you doing something today? i thought we could spend it together.” his voice is gentle when he speaks and his steps are careful, expecting you to move your feet from where they rest on the space in the sofa next to you so he can sit. but you don’t, you don’t even look at him as he stands there— a little awkwardly as his question rests in the air, shuffling from foot to foot before he’s biting on the inside of his cheek and choosing to rest in the seat opposite you, on the other side of the room instead.

yuuta doesn’t like how far away you feel right. in more ways than one. this isn’t you.

“no, i don’t have plans.” your answer makes your boyfriend fidget slightly, turning the promise ring in nervous circles on his finger as his haunting gaze cuts into you. but he still tries because maybe you don’t realise the way you’re making him feel, maybe you’re just a little emotional, are you on your period? he’s sure his tracker on his phone said you weren’t due for another week or so… did it come early?

“o-okay, um.. do you want to spend the day with me?” he swallows loudly as he asks and he’s not sure if he’s imagining it, if his disarrayed state of mind is just pretending he heard you sigh at the question but you answer anyway.

“well you’re here now.” cold, your answer is cold. it’s missing the usual warmth, the usual love that laces your words. you must be mad at him? is someone trying to steer you away from him?

“hah… right.” yuuta doesn’t realise he’s trembling until his hand raises to push his hair back, to grip at the roots and pull because this must just be a nightmare…. he hates this. why does it hurt so much, why does he feel like he’s losing you? he’ll just have to bring you back to him that’s it, to find out who it is who’s trying to take you away from him so he can kill them. yeah, that’s what he’ll do. it’ll be easy.. and then you’ll love him again, right?

the silence between you both settles heavily although you don’t look uncomfortable at all — you look like you don’t even care that he’s there, your boyfriend, your love. the space between you both in the middle of the room feels miles long despite the way he could cover it in only a few steps.

“i’ll miss you when i’m gone…” his voice scratches in his throat,

“it’s only for a few days, yuuta.” why are you saying it like that? anytime away from you is hell. you’re too pre-occupied with scrolling through your phone to even look at him, are you talking to someone else? is that who it is that’s coming between you both? who is it that has your attention if not him?

“i know but i always miss you when you’re not there.” yuuta’s stare is sharp as he holds you, haunting, chilling— he feels cold while he waits for your gaze to lift to touch his. why won’t you look at him? please look at him.

but again, you ignore him — you don’t say anything and he can feel the way it makes something tremble in his ribs, in his bones. he feels like his body is tearing away at the seams because you’re supposed to be in love — you said you’d marry him, that you’d be together forever.. has a curse gotten to you? should he have refused to leave you alone these past few days… maybe if he never left you alone again, you’d love him like you used to…

“it’s because i love you. aren’t you going to miss me?” yuuta’s voice is lower when he asks, he fidgets on his seat before he chooses to push himself to stand. he needs to be closer to you, he needs to feel the warmth of you beneath him, he can’t leave you like this. he needs you to remind him that you still love him. you can do that with your body, like all those times before — all the reassurance and confessions of pure love, where are they now?

your eyes finally rise from your phone with his movement but he’s not met with the usual warm, loving gaze you normally wear. it’s emptier now, it almost makes him flinch.

“yuuta. we need to talk.” yuuta knew this was coming, who have you been talking to about him because this isn’t of your own will, he knows it’s not. someone must be manipulating you, was it someone from the party? had noritoshi reached out to you after you left to try and rekindle old flames? but you’d never do that to yuuta, right? he hates fighting with you. he knows you can be emotional but you’re never like this. he misses you. the real you.

“o-okay.” your words urge your boyfriend to take his seat back at the opposite side of the room — as much as it pains him to feel so far still. he needs you in his arms before you speak to him, so he knows you’re not actually as far away as you feel right now.

but you put your phone aside as he watches you— as he waits, inspects the way you push yourself to sit straighter, like you’re at an interview or some important meeting. he doesn’t think you notice the way your skirt seems to bunch up even shorter, hugging around your hips — it’s hard for yuuta to focus on anything else when he can almost see the peek of your panties beneath the short fabric. he swallows, trying to quell the sudden burn of arousal in his lower abdomen… and the one between his thighs.

it feels like it’s been so long since you’ve let him have you. you must be teasing him.

“yuuta, it’s about the party…. and a bunch of other things i guess.” you squeeze at the space between your brows like you’ve got a headache.

“o-okay, what about it? is everything okay?” yuuta’s voice sounds quiet, like he’s about to be scolded — deliberately soft, like it’ll lessen his punishment. like it’ll manipulate you in his favour, to forget about this and go back to loving him like you’re supposed to.

“no, everything’s not okay.” you sigh and he fidgets on his seat slightly — you’re not looking at him again, but he steals another look at the place between your legs. he can still remember how soft you feel, how wet you can get beneath his touch. he shouldn’t be thinking about that right now but is he supposed to resist what’s his? especially when you’ve been holding out on him.

“it’s about everything that happened with noritoshi, we need to talk about it.”

“i don’t want to talk about him.” the low tone of yuuta’s voice catches you off guard — he picks up on the way your eyes jump to him quickly, widening at the way he’s staring at you. holding you there. like you’re a bunny wondering when the wolf is going to hunt, when it’s going to claim it’s prey. not yet…. but soon.

“but, yuuta— we have to talk about it, this is what i mean.” you lean forward but your thighs open slightly and your boyfriend feels a soft ringing in his ears that accompanies the throb in his cock with the new angle. it’s like you’re deliberately showing even more of your plush skin to him, your soft panties, he wonders if you’re already wet beneath the fabric. the image almost makes him whimper beneath his breath before you cut him off again.

“seriously, what is wrong with you?” your eyes narrow and yuuta’s barely looking at you now — he’s distracted, but that seems to only make you even more frustrated. “do you not think that there is anything wrong with how you handled it?”

“no, he was trying to take you from me. i did..” he swallows, his throat feels dry with want. he knows exactly the thing that would quench his thirst. “.. i did what i had to do.. to keep you.” he still answers your question despite the way his gaze is faltering, transfixed on the space between your thighs and his fingers twitch to squeeze into his own. it’s like it pains him to hold back, to not reach for you, to not have his hands palming at your figure.

“yuuta.” the first call of yuuta’s name is an exasperated sound, more of a sigh as you run your hands along your face. but then you notice… follow his line of sight until you realise what it is that’s holding his attention and you scoff.

“yuuta?” you’re louder now, almost snapping at his figure across the room, “are you fucking kidding me, right now?” that catches his attention — makes your boyfriend lidded, sleepy gaze snap back up to you before he’s flushing deep at the realisation that he’s been staring. the silence settles as you stare at him, noticing the almost pathetic bulge in his pants from a peek at your panties and you almost laugh, you’re too frustrated for it to hold any humour.

“fine. is this what you want?” your words cut through the silence in the room quickly and yuuta is hanging on your every word when it’s accompanied by the way you lean back to sink into the cushions behind you. your drool-worthy thighs spread with the movement, revealing the way the pretty fabric is hugging your folds tightly. there’s a damp spot in the light colour and it makes your boyfriends breathing catch because as annoyed as you are, you can’t deny the way having his attention still affects you.

“you’re such a fucking perv, yuu—“ your words are meantto sting as you pull back your feet to press them onto the edge of the couch, leaving yourself spread open for the dark-haired sorcerer at the other side of the room as he gives you a slow blink.

“h-hey. don’t say that, it’s not weird when it’s mine. you’remine.” but the sight of you— like this, spread open so invitingly— it’s like you’re urging yuuta to come forward, to take what’s his. it’s like a parting gift before his mission and he almost does as he pushes himself onto his knees. he’s ready to crawl, drag his body to you.

“i don’t want to fight anymore, i don’t want to leave you. so can i—“ his tone is wavering, trembling beneath the weight of his arousal and even the slight friction of his slacks along his hard cock makes his hips twitch.

but your answer makes him freeze before he can close the distance, your words feel like they cut him. it’s like they carve his heart out of his chest and you leave him there to bleed. “no. you can stay there and you can watch, until i say everything i have to say.”

yuuta’s staring at you, watching the way your hand suddenly appears to press down between your thighs— teasing along the clothed folds of your pussy as he rests on his knees across from you. “if this is what it’ll take to get through to you then i’ll do it.” you bite on your lower lip with the first swipe of your fingers between the petals of your cunt. he bets you feel warm.. wet, this isn’t fair. this is cruel.

“baby, please— don’t, let me..” the tone his voice takes next is deliberately defeated, like he’s just received bad news — like he’s grieving and it feels like he is as his cold gaze watches the movement of your fingers. “i need to touch you before i go.” your fingers pet languidly along the fabric of your panties — dancing along the quickly dampening fabric before they’re pressing down on your puffy clit through the thin layer and yuuta feels something ache in his chest at the sweet sound it pulls from you.

“t-then you’ll watch… and you’ll listen.” the way you play with yourself is hypnotising and he studies every movement you make, every sound you pull from yourself as you bear down eagerly on the sensitive parts of your cunt.

it’s like yuuta knows what you’re going to do next, where you’re going to touch, he’s memorised these spots afterall— he knows them best. he’s panting like a dog from where he’s resting on his knees, pressing his palm into the leaking bulge in his pants, trying to quell the throb— the ache, as his whole body quakes and he’s moments away from begging until you begin to speak again.

“do i have your attention now, yuu?” you ask and yuuta’s nodding before you can even finish the sentence, his eyes are almost wet — it’s like he’s refusing to blink, refusing to miss even a second of you pressing your fingers between your folds. it’s like his own private show and it’s all for him, he wishes he could reach out to touch you, to feel you, but is this really a punishment when you look so pretty? when you’re playing with yourself while looking at him. it’s still all for him.

“baby,” he starts again, words whispery and choked off when his palm squeezes even harder against his clothed cock but you ignore him.

the pretty fabric of your panties have taken a darker colour beneath your movements now — you’re even wetter, needier. yuuta’s flushed down to his chest the moment you hook your fingers beneath the cotton to pull it to the side — to reveal the messy, glistening image of your puffy folds for your boyfriend like you’re serving a starving man a meal and telling him not to eat. “the party, yuuta. why did you storm out?”

your fingers return to your pussy quickly but your question hangs in the air. your boyfriends jaw is slack as he watches you — his eyes dark and lidded. he can barely breathe nevermind speak as the first swipe of your digits along your slick pussy catches on your skin to glisten. “you c-couldve spoken to me. i’d have told you, i haven’t spokento noritoshi in years.. you didn’t even ask me. how are we supposed to fix things if you won’t talk to me?”

yuuta hates the way you say his name. why are you even thinking about him when your fingers are between your thighs? he hates the way you speak of him in that dreamy, whispery tone — he doesn’t want you to say it at all and it makes him hiss through his teeth with the next hard press of his palm against his twitching cock. he can barely hear you with the way the blood echoes in his ears. he feels lightheaded, like he might pass out.

“don’t you trust me?” your question jolts him slightly and despite his half-hormone drunken state he answers quickly, just as you sink one of your fingers into your twitching hole. the wet, tacky sound that sounds from your pussy makes yuuta’s whole body shake.

“y-yes. with all of me, baby. but.. it’s him, i was scared he was trying to take you away from me.” you don’t notice it, you’re too lost in bliss when you add another finger to see the way yuuta inches himself closer. he’s just trying to get a closer look, trying to see more of you. he wants to see the way every twist of your wrist sinks your fingers even deeper into your cunt — the way they glisten everytime they pull back and he moans. “you didn’t see.. how he was looking at you.”

his lips part with his next exhale and his cock feels uncomfortably hard in his slacks. you’re torturing him, he already feels so ridiculously close and you haven’t touched him at all — but you look so pretty like this. the way your chest is rising and falling, the thin sheen of sweat on your skin, the saccharine sight of your cunt. he’s close enough now for his hands to rest on either side of the couch at your sides as he breathes deep. “please, baby— let me..”

“but i don’t want him, yuuta.” your words cut off his attempt, his plea and the next look yuuta gives you is almost chilling. you can’t deny the way it makes your walls squeeze tight around your fingers, the way it makes your body yearn for him. he’d broken you that way and you’re hyperaware of the way your own fingers are no match for his, you can barely reach the spots your boyfriend taught you of in the first place.

“then who.. who do you want? tell me, baby. i need to hear you say it. it hurts.” his words almost growl as they’re spoken, he’s almost curling over you completely but he plays it safe — letting his hand rest softly on the inside of your thigh as he pushes you to spread wider.

“i want you, yuuta.“ you blame the pleasure for making you go a little easier on yuuta than you’d originally planned to. you’d planned to not let him touch you at all, but he’s looking at you like he’s starving— you’re almost scared to move incase he sinks his teeth into you instead.

“i listened, please.. please, l-let me touch you i— i need to touch you,” he’s pressing his hips into the edge of the couch but his knees still rest on the ground as he leans over you. he’s forcing you to meet his gaze, so intense you can’t look away — you need to listen to him, how are you supposed to say no when the dark blue in his eyes are almost telling you that’s not an option.

“yuuta,” you sink your fingers into your pussy again and the sweet little drawl your voice takes as it cracks is answer enough when yuuta leans even closer to you. his hands are cold when they pull back yours, making you whine with the loss of friction before you shudder at the sudden press of his fingers stretching against your walls.

you try to close your thighs around his wrist, even just as a way to try and keep your composure, but his free hand presses down on you to keep you spread. he moves you so easily, with such confidence, it makes you feel even hotter.

your lips part to cry at the way yuuta pushes into you, the weight of his body knocking your thighs to spread even wider as he leans up to press sweet kisses against your cheeks. they’re used as a means to soothe you as he scissors his fingers inside of your plush walls. he’s not even ashamed by the way his hips instinctively hump into the side of the sofa now that he’s finally got his hands on you again. now that you’ve given him exactly what he wants, like you always do.

your legs kick out, shake at the way his fingers work you so quickly — brushing against the spongy spots inside of you that you can’t reach, the ones that make your back arch into him as he feeds you another finger. you take it so greedily with how wet you are, walls stretching around the give of his hands and your boyfriend groans with the next thrust of his clothed cock against the plush fabric beneath you, lost in how needy your pussy is for him. he knew you were just feeling emotional, he hadn’t actually done anything wrong for you to be mad at him afterall.

your hips shake and your lips part to cry out yuuta’s name as you grab at the expanse of his broad shoulders — humping into his hand as he pushes his fingers in and out of you.

“shhhh, i know. i’ll help you, okay? i’ll take care of you because i know you need me, you know how good i can make you feel.” yuuta’s words are breathed against your cheek and he begins to swirl gentle circles into your clit with his thumb while his fingers drag more of your slick out. he’s making a sloppy mess between your thighs and he can’t help but feel a little smug about it. about how quickly your walls seem to crumble for him, your love for him is so obvious in your need.

“see, baby. how good it feels?” he works your body with practiced precision, watching your hips twist under his touch when he pushes his fingers deeper, feeling your walls tighten around the digits as he speeds up his ministrations, pulling a surprised whine from your lips.

the reaction yuuta’s able to illicit from you so easily is nothing to do with how he’s studied you for the last few months — watched you play with your pussy so many times he can barely count. he’s even watched back the pretty videos he’s taken on his phone, maybe he’ll tell you about the next ones he takes so you can look at him as he does — make that pretty face for the camera.. quite like the expression you’re wearing for him now.

“mhm,” you moan, albeit a short reply to your boyfriends needy babbles but he barely hears you. he’s began his own pace now, humping his hips mindlessly into the side of the couch beneath you like he’s an untrained pet. but he doesn’t care enough to be embarrassed about it, not when you’re pulling him closer — walls squeezing around him so tight it makes his cock throb against the tight fabric of his slacks.

“it’s because it’s me… it’s because it’s love. pure, mutual love.” yuuta’s hips tremble and the couch knocks loudly against the wall behind you with his next thrust, gritting his teeth and you whimper, already feeling yourself edging towards your release.

“yuu— i’m so close.” your hips grinding eagerly into his touch, brushing your clit harder against his thumb as your warm cunt pulses around his digits, sucking him back in everytime he drags them out. you blink up at him, starry-eyed and already fucked out as your fingers tighten around the fabric stretched over his chest, pulling him closer as your chest heaves.

“i wish you c-could see how pretty you look, just for me. all m-mine. this is why i cant let anyone else have you… it’s not my fault.” yuuta groans and his dark blue gaze is blown and narrowed, heavy when he leans over you to kiss up the column of your neck in the way that has your thighs spreading wider.

the way you’re trembling only spurs him on, scissoring his fingers inside you and hammering them against the sweet spot that has your thighs twitching before he smashes his mouth against yours. he’s being greedy, it’s like he’s proving a point — drinking up your moans like he’s reminding you he’s the only one that’ll ever hear them —pushing his own name between your lips as his hips jolt and grind against the side of the sofa as he chases his own pathetic pleasure. he’s too focused on your own to even care.

“i don’t like when you’re mad at me. i was j-just protecting you.. he was going to take you from me. do you forgive me? d-do you still love me? i need to hear you say it.. please.” yuuta’s voice is desperate as he works you, but he knows you’ll give into him when you’re so close to release. that’s why he’s waited until he has you here, until you’re clawing and panting for him— walls squeezing so tight around his fingers he can barely move. until your mind is so thick with soft pleasure that you’d do anything he’d ask you for your release.. that’s how well he knows you. how well he’s trained you.

“y-yes, yuuta.. just don’t stop— ah!” its sudden, the way you feel your thighs shake and the blissful feeling of your orgasm rushes through your veins. your walls flex and pulse around his thick digits as he continues to sink them into you, drawing gentle circles into your clit to prolong your pleasure, while he swallows your needy moans and babbles of his name with his own. it’s your orgasm that sets him off, that has him curling over you — hips stuttering into the side of the couch as he creams and soaks the fabric of his slacks, and he’d be embarrassed if you weren’t still wrapped around him.

you’re still grabbing at yuuta’s shoulders, keeping him close — you must be scared he’s going to leave you, you must not want him to leave for that mission… was this all an act so that you could have him like this? that must be it. you were just pretending.. he should’ve never questioned your love for him. he’s done everything rightafterall.

his fingers are slick as he pulls them back from you— he’s fucked out and flushed and despite the uncomfortable dampness in his pants, he stays in his place over you as he hugs you closer. “can we not fight anymore?” his voice has returned to his usual gentle tone, it’s like that twisted little switch in his head has flicked and he’s your sweet, kind boyfriend again— gazing up at you, massaging and drawing hearts into your skin.

you let your lidded gaze linger on yuuta’s momentarily before you look away again, something buzzes uncomfortably beneath your skin where he touches you.

“we can go again, i-is that okay? i haven’t had enough yet, baby. i need more.” you didn’t think it was possible but yuuta pulls you even closer— until youre flush against him, sweating hard beneath your clothes but you’re suddenly aware of how cold his hands still feel against you. why has it taken you so long to realise? have you always felt this way? you almost feel guilty for feeling like this when you’re supposed to…. when you do love him.

but there’s still so much left to say— you’re not sure you’re as satisfied with yuuta’s answer as your body feels. the conversation as a whole didnt go as planned at all, why is why you find something in your bones screaming at you to pull away. no, it’s not enough, it’s not what you wanted. but do you really think trying to talk to him again will bring you a better outcome? how many times have you tried already? is there really no getting through to him?

“i’ll miss you. will you miss me?” he asks but he thinks he already knows the answer as he leans in closer to smear his lips along your cheek— he can tell you’re deep in thought and he wonders if you’re thinking about him. he’s sure you’ll be sad to see him go for his mission but he thinks you’re cute when you’re upset about it. he’ll make sure you know he’s always thinking about you, he’ll call you morning and night — you’ll have your location on for him afterall… so will he really be as apart from you as you think?

“yes, yuuta.” your words don’t carry much emotion but yuuta’s sure it’s only because you don’t want to get upset. you’re trying to be strong for him because you know it’ll make leaving you harder if you weren’t. not that leaving you was ever easy, maybe he’ll have to take you with him on the next one.

his arms circle around your waist to squeeze as he nuzzles himself into you — basking in your warmth as he coats you in some more wet kisses, tracing them along your skin until you’re shuddering beneath him. “i’ll text you everyday. so you remember i’m always with you, forever.” another kiss and you’re still beneath him so he continues, maybe his words will soothe you.. make you a little happier. “but i’ll come back to you, i promise.. because i love you, okay?”

you don’t offer him much, only a sigh… but yuuta knows you’ll be waiting for him…. you love him, thats what you said afterall.

“yeah…. i’m sure that’s what it is, yuuta.”

© gojoath. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[lyricswrittenbythesecretdreamer]

Haunted

“You remind me of a man I used to know.”  

I was watching the embers in the fire die, and the thought just came, out loud. The Ghoul chewed an unknown meat off the stick he’d skewered it on, not looking up to dignify my statement with even so much as a grunt. Maybe not then, I thought sadly. Maybe all the men like Cooper had died when the bombs dropped. I certainly hadn’t met a man like him since we’d said goodbye to each other at that party. Still, I continued.  

“He was a lot friendlier than you – though I suppose actors are predisposed to high levels of charisma.” I smiled to myself from behind the handkerchief covering my face, thinking of how simple the past now seemed in comparison to the present.  

“Actor?” It was first word I’d heard him speak since he told me to put out the fire that had cooked our dinner and it brought me from my daydream of my old life.  

“Yeah, actor. One of the good ones, most of the time anyway.” I chuckled to myself, remembering the tantrums he used to have on set if something wasn’t entirely accurate.  

“How would you have known an actor?”  

“Well, if you must know, I was-”   

I was cut off by a knife flying past my face and narrowly missing my eye, and then there was a body on top of mine, all flailing limbs and trying to stab me, grabbing a hold of my neck and head to hold me down. I grabbed the pocket knife hidden in my coat and wounded my attacker, before rolling the both of us over and pushing his face into the dying ashes. Their screams echoed out against the darkness of the wasteland, and I heard several gunshots. I took my pistol from my belt and shot whoever had tried to jump me in the back of his skull, letting him fall limply beside me.  

I look up through the dying light to see the Ghoul surveying our surroundings, before looking down at me and I realised with horror I didn’t have the handkerchief covering my face anymore.  

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Rosie Ryder,” he let out an audible laugh, “What are you doin’ out in the Wasteland?”  

My face went bright red, and I huffed.  

“Even after the apocalypse, people still just know me as the girl who played the hooker that got her titties out for Cooper Howard,” I rolled my eyes and sighed, “I’ve done other movies, you know.”  

“Yeah, you were great in Under the Covers,” he chuckled again, “although for you that film must have mostly been about shooting all that kissin’ you did to the poor bloke. I bet his lips were chapped at the end of every day!”  

“You a fan of Cooper Howard?” I asked, looking him up and down, “this get-up of yours seems pretty inspired by his work.”  

“You could say that, Little Miss Ryder.”  

I laughed bitterly and gestured down at the three bodies around us.  

“We should probably find somewhere else to sleep tonight, in case anyone heard the gunshots.”  

I checked the pockets of the bodies but couldn’t find anything other than a couple of caps and a gun with some ammo still left in it.  

“No chems?” he asked, and I shook my head.  

“No chems.”  

*** 

As we continued in our direction, the Ghoul became more talkative.  

“So, if you were Little Miss Rosie Ryder, you must be at least two hundred and something years old,” he began, “So how are you here right now?” 

I shrugged.  

“It’s a long, long story. We don’t got that much time, Ghoulie.”  

Eventually we came across a shabby-looking shack that looked just about safe enough for the night and might potentially keep us safe from any radstorm that might decide to descend onto us. And maybe from any raiders, too.  

The Ghoul went in first, checking the inside whilst I set a bear trap up in front of the door, before following him inside. It seemed as if someone might have been living here for a bit – there was a sofa and a little table, as well as a small counter with what looked like to be a broken-down hob. No signs of life anymore, though. Everything had a thick layer of dust coating it, and any essentials seem to have been hastily removed when the last occupier had left. 

“The walls seem pretty sturdy and the roof’s secure,” he said, “did you put a bear trap outside the door?”  

“Yeah, don’t wanna take the risk we did earlier.” I sighed. “Still, can’t help but think we’re still sitting ducks if someone breaks in. We’re not exactly in the safest area – I know at least two Raider groups who have bases nearby.” 

“They’ll break in and come face to face with my pistol aimed at their skulls, sweetheart.”  

“Oh, I’m ‘sweetheart’ now, am I? Now that you know what I look like under all these clothes?”  

The Ghoul stepped closer to me, the shadow of his hat towering over me.  

“Maybe I jus’ appreciate those actin’ skills of yours,” he murmured, “on top of that fine figure.” He stepped back from me and sat down on the sofa, slouching.  

“I’ll take first watch, Little Miss Rosie. I’ll wake you in a few hours and when the light comes, we’ll continue, and you can tell me that long, long story of yours.”  

*** 

Susie Wellington was coiffuring my hair for my first scene, as I sat tugging on my cotton skirt trying to psyche myself up for the scene ahead. We’d rehearsed it a bunch of times in table reads but this was the real thing – closed set and all.  

“Susie, I think the leading lady’s hair’s done up enough for now,” came a voice from the corner, “and you should be making your way back to the dressing rooms. I’m sure Little Miss Rosie Ryder here doesn’t want another cast member staring at her tits.”  

I looked up in relief as Cooper appeared beside us, cigarette in hand. Susie didn’t look to happy about having to leave her creation as it was, but only pursed her lips and bid me goodbye.  

“You excited for your first scene, Little Miss Rosie?” he asked, and I felt a strange sense of deja vu come over me at his words. I ignored it and put a shaky smile on my face.  

“I’m excited to get the nudity outta the way, that’s all I’m gonna say!” I giggled a bit, and he laughed alongside me.  

“Well, there’ll be a barrier in place of everythin’ and that dress of yours ain’t comin’ off completely. Gotta keep them perverts on their toes.” He winked at me, and I tried to keep the smile on my face, but under it all, I felt as if this was very dangerous.  

As he kissed me softly in front of the cameras and rolled his eyes playfully as the director asked him to push my dress up to show more of my skin, I felt something lurking in the shadows. Once this was shot, there was no going back and for some reason, I felt completely doomed.  

*** 

I woke up with a start, flinging my body forward. From the sofa, the Ghoul shushed me, holding a gloved finger over my mouth.  

I could hear something outside, and I assumed that was what woke me up. It was a strange sound, of someone dragging their feet through the dirt and the mud. We sat there in silence for a full half an hour, until the dragging sound moved away from the hut and back out into the darkness.  

“You mind takin’ the next watch, Sweetheart?” he said, “I need to get a couple hours kip in before we set off tomorrow.”  

“Sure,” I say tentatively, pulling out my pistol. “I’m glad you finally trust me.”  

“Well, I’m a huge fan.” He laid heavy emphasis on the ‘huge’, winking at me through the dusk light. I rolled my eyes, but inside I felt a little proud for some stupid goddamn reason.  

Back when I started acting, I didn’t think I’d have any living fans – never mind a half-dead irradiated man from 200 years in the future. Is he half-dead? It’d never been explained to me at the brothel – I’d just done my service and taken the RadAway. None of the others had ever stuck around to tell me their life story.  

We switched places, I sat myself down on the sofa and the Ghoul lay down on the bedroll on the floor.  

“Damn, this shit is fuckin’ uncomfortable.” I heard him say, and I let out a laugh under my bed.  

“I didn’t complain,” I whispered, and he made a grunting noise. I wasn’t sure if it was meant to be an insult or not, but I just chuckled quietly and pulled out my pistol, aimed at the door ready for anyone who tried to force their way through.  

The sun rose quickly after that, and by the light of the sky, I was able to get a better look at the Ghoul’s sleeping face. There was something so familiar about him, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I decided it was the cowboy look – it reminded me of the niche I’d almost fallen into after my three-month contract with Cooper’s team. The audience had loved our chemistry on screen in The Man from Deadhorse, and the studios knew they’d get a lot more money if we came as a package deal – so we shot Under the Covers, City of Starlight and Valley of the Gun together. It took me back to the last film I’d shot, the one I hadn’t finished shooting.  

I looked down at my clothes – the same clothes I’d been wearing 200 years ago on set. The ‘Western Hooker’ dress, of which there had originally been five different versions. The hat, which I’d stolen from my co-worker as a joke, but had still been on my head when we’d been told to start running. For a moment, I could still smell the food that they’d made us on set. I could still smell the horse manure, and the flashing of lights.  

I looked back at the Ghoul, awake now, and almost came to a realisation.

[beenbaanbuun]

the show w/ choi jongho

thinking about meeting jongho at a hardcore gig. you don’t really know the band that’s playing, but you’ve heard of them and after finding yourself alone and bored on a random tuesday night, you figure you might as well!

so you take a trip down to your local alternative music club, an oversized band t-shirt handing loosely over the tiny skirt you decided to wear. you can barely see the hem of it before your fishnet-covered thighs are exposed. they bulge over the top of your thigh highs, looking just as soft as squishy as you wanted them to. on your feet rest a pair of old skool vans, beat up and a little gross after years of abuse in mosh pits and venues so disgusting that the floor always seems to be covered by a thick layer of grunge. they’re your favourite pair of shoes, the memories they hold being worth more than their prettiness.

the venue hits you in the face with the scent of stale beer and sweat; it’s gross but you can’t help but smile as you head towards the bar. theres just something so familiar about the foul smell.

“excuse me,” you say to the group of men huddling around the counter, all with full cups of beer in their grasp. they’re too engrossed in conversation to even notice you as you stand there tapping your foot, and you can’t help but let out an agitated sigh, “or just don’t move, i guess; that works too.”

you take a step forward, about to physically push your way through them. the beer that is guaranteed to be spilled down your top is just residual damage. it’s bound to happen anyway since no one can keep their drinks in their hands once a band steps on stage. you brace yourself for the angry grunts you’re about to get and then—

a hand cups your shoulder, holding you back. it’s warm, and as you look down at it, surprisingly well manicured. huh… you didn’t know men who listened to hardcore knew how to take care of themselves to that extent. you follow his arm up, slightly disappointed at the way his beige crew neck covers his arms—with the way his hand is gripping you, you can tell he’s got strength. your gaze shifts past his neck, taking note of the cute little freckle, before moving up to his face.

holy hell.

your lips part a little and you take in a shuddery breath. he’s beautiful.

his skin glows like honey in the sunlight, looking flawless even in the dim lighting of the club. the muscles in his jaw ripple beneath his skin as he clenches it; you swallow thickly. “‘scuse us, gents,” he says, his perfect lips moving in a way that has you unable to stop staring at them. and his voice? god, you want to obey every word that he says in that syrupy cadence.

you don’t even notice when the men part, only moving forward when the handsome stranger puts pressure on your shoulder to guide you through the crowd. you let him, happy to go wherever he takes you as long as his warm hand never leaves your shoulder.

he only stops when the two of you meet the bar and his gaze shifts down to meet yours. you feel your insides melt at the sight of his black irises that seem to glitter as if they hold the universe within them. you suck in a sharp breath though your nose and— holy fuck, is it him that smells that good? the scent of spices fills your head and you feel your knees go weak. your hand finds the bar, ignoring the stickiness in favour of keeping yourself upright.

“what are you drinking?” he asks in that smooth voice. the question almost doesn’t register, your brain too invested in him to even think about anything else. it takes a moment or two for you to realise that oh! he’s taking to you? and a moment or two more for you to pull yourself together enough to give a coherent answer.

“uh, beer?” you say, trying to come off as cool. he smiles and it’s the prettiest thing you think you’ve ever seen.

“you don’t sound too sure about that,” there’s a hint of amusement in his voice and it makes you wonder what his laugh sounds like. probably as beautiful as the rest of him. “i wouldn’t so sure be either; beer is gross. that’s why i’ll be having a double vodka cran… want one?”

you nod silently and his smile grows until you can see his gums. it’s adorable, and it makes your heart beat at an almost concerning pace. is it too early to break out the L word? probably, you tell yourself.

“a vodka cran it is, pretty girl,” he says, and you die a little inside. pretty girl? it’s like he’s trying to send your heart into overdrive, “i’ll have it in your hands in no time. i’m great at flagging down bar staff.” he wiggles his eyebrows as if his self proclaimed sufficiency at bars is something for you to be impressed by. you find yourself giggling, which only makes his face light up more. you swear he mumbles a quick ‘cute’ under his breath, but perhaps that’s just your delusions speaking.

he’s right, though. he does have your drink in your hand in a matter of minutes. he passes it to you with a wink and a click of the tongue before leaning over to grab two straws from the bar. he slips one into his own drink before passing you the other. you take it and slide it into your cup.

“how much was it?” you ask before descending on your straw. even as you take a sip, you never once look away from him. you watch his adams apple bob when you wrap your lips around the paper and suck; you think nothing of it.

“for you? free,” he slips his own straw in his mouth, gulping down a few mouthfuls before pulling a face at the taste. you have to agree, the vodka they use has always been pretty foul; no amount of watered down mixer can mask the taste of the cheap spirit.

you tug the straw away; the strangers eyes flick down to see the lipstick stain left on the paper. he finds himself sending a mental thank you to whoever decided to play the pre-show playlist at an unnecessary volume; at least it hides the involuntary groan he lets out at the sight.

“and for you?” you ask as you swirl your cup in your hand in the hopes of mixing it a little better, “how much was my drink?”

he goes back in for another sip, shrugging as he grins around the straw. it’s soon wiped away by the taste of the beverage, you laugh as you watch a shiver go down his spine. he pulls away and coughs.

“a gentleman never talks about money,” he says with a strained voice, “but just know it was fucking overpriced for how it tastes. does it always taste like this?”

you nod, a pained smile taking over your expression.

“unfortunately so,” you take another sip, only to find out that your ‘mixing’ had done nothing; it still tastes like shit. you purse your lips as you pull away, tensing to stop your own body from shivering. it doesn’t work; the man still lets out a chuckle as he watches you shudder. “what do you usually get?”

a sheepish look takes over his face.

“beer-”

“beer?!” you scoff, leaning forward to hit his arm gently with your fist. it can’t have hurt him, but he pulls a faux pained expression anyway, rubbing over the flesh with his other hand. it brings a smile onto your face to see him play into your antics. “you told me you didn’t like beer!”

he shrugs.

“i didn’t want you to think i’d judge you for drinking something ‘girly’,” he warps his voice and rolls his eyes as he mentions the gendered drinks you hold in your hands, clearly expressing his dismissal of the concept. “but now i’ve tasted it, maybe i am judging you. it really does taste like shit.”

“i know,” you agree.

you fall into a comfortable silence, the both of you slowly getting your drinks down you as the world seems to carry on around you. the bar bustles behind you, but you ignore it in favour of watching the man in front of you. his expressions as he rips the straw free and tips the last bit of his drink down his throat has you giggling. the way he glares at the man who bumps into you has you swooning. how he bops his head in time to the music has you falling deeper and deeper into this pit you’d found yourself in. it’s too soon for the L-word—you don’t even know his name yet—but you’re almost positive that this is how it’s supposed to feel.

you finish up your drink, wincing as the vodka burns your throat on the way down. your lips pull away from the straw and almost immediately, a warm hand covers yours. your stranger pulls the empty cup from your hand and puts it on the ledge to be taken away later. you smile, grateful for the tiny act of service that realistically shouldn’t be making your heart ache to the level it is doing. you don’t even know the man…

“what’s your name?” the sudden question startles him; clearly he wasn’t expecting the lull in conversation to be broken so quickly. he soon recovers, though, smirking at you as if your simple question was akin to you flirting with him.

“choi jongho,” he hums, “what’s yours?”

you tell him. he smiles in response, “pretty name for a pretty girl…” heat burns under your skin; you hope the poor lighting is enough to hide the way your cheeks darken.

“thanks,” you purr, “yours isn’t so bad either.”

he huffs out a breath of laughter through his nose before opening his mouth to say something else. it’s just his luck that the moment he does, the lights dim even further and a loud drumbeat kicks in from the stage.

“good fucking evening! we are—”

the microphone peaks, making you wince at the screech that echos through the venue. jongho’s eyes scrunch shut as he tries to block out the sound, but it’s too abrasive to ignore. he grabs your hand and leans in close.

“i have a feeling this is going to fucking suck,” he yells over the guitar that’s begun to warble tunelessly through the club. you nod wordlessly against him, too distracted by the sudden proximity to actually speak. “i know a pretty cool cafe near-by. it’s open late and they serve really good coffee… do you maybe want to get out of here before we lose our hearing and out will to live?”

again, you nod.

“good,” he leans in to press a warm kiss to your cheek. your heart does a fucking backflip in your rib cage. “it’s a date…”

[argreion]

𝑵𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒆❜𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 — For my next daily, I guess we’ll do headcanons! The first thing I did that made me kinda pop off! So… I know I did an SFW and NSFW one, but we’ll just do NSFW this time. I might repeat a little, given I did those headcanons nearly 2 - 3 months ago! Kinda updated after thinking of my ideal Leon. (Just lazy today… I don't expect many people to like this considering it's not like smut smut.)

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 841

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 — Leon hairy pussy munch so obviously (eating out), Leon in lingerie so possibly feminization if you think about it? Also not? Just man is enjoying lingerie. Creampie talking with eating out. Sensory deprivation with temperature play alongside it. Dry sexter Leon. Lazy P in V. P in V a LOT.

First… We start with the obvious one. Leon’s a genuine munch, we all know it and crave it. Prefers it hairy ‘cause it’s more fun to play with. Saying hairy, cause who has time to shave their pussy for a man? We all don’t want to, so we’ll just say he likes it. Likes to bury his nose deep into your pussy and call it his heaven. Jerking himself off as he eats you out, thumb rolling circles into your clit. Tongue scissoring your folds open and delving into your hole. Eating you out like a starved man. Hungry Man’s wasn’t enough, and that stupid brownie wasn’t good enough. The full three-course meal that was your pussy right next to him, was all that he needs. Right against his face and drenching it with your slick. Dribbling down his stubble and giving you disgusting kisses. Sharing the love with his baby that’s it.

Lingerie with this man… Oh boy. He’ll cum on the spot seeing your body in lace with fancy flowers. Stretch marks, stomach, random bruises, self-harm scars, hairy legs, and arms, loves it all. Kisses all your scars while you wear that pretty thing. Skimpy, seductive, lazy, it doesn’t matter. Doesn’t take his hands off of you. On the contrary, he loves wearing them as well! Look, self-indulgent little shit I am, but we all want this old guy in lingerie. He’d look breathtaking in it with his genetics. Full on spread eagle, curling his finger towards you with a smirk. Gets embarrassed the first few times around. Is his dick out too much? Am I too big for this?

Creampier extraordinaire, all day, every day! It could be the breeding part, or he just likes watching you be full of a part of him. Uses his thumb to part your folds and eat out your pussy. Eating out his cum like the secretly depraved man he is. Wants to watch it like the shows he does every weekend. He’d rate it 100% on rotten tomatoes for the most unique, thrilling experience ever. (It’s a joke, be honest, that’d be boring to watch. He’d watch those boring shows, anyway.)

Another off-the-board one is sensory deprivation. It’s the trust you both have in each other. To go off touch, and he could have a gun to the back of your head. Takes a lot of coaxing out his brain to try it out. But when it’s done, oh boy, bondage with this is OFF the charts. Running his fingers up your torso and his thumb across your lip. Good girl, sucking on it like you should be. Has used wax and ice cubes before, and he would do it again. Feels slightly bad with each squeak you make. Poor baby, cumming on a vibrator up your pussy. 

Do it to him? Whiny old bastard. Feels a little lonely without hearing your footsteps or seeing your face. Being too vulnerable makes him act like a caged animal. Touching his body sends him melting on the floor. Reminds him it’s you and not someone like Ada. She was always a fickle woman who manipulated him and made him get trust issues. Knowing you’d (hopefully) not do the same makes him happier. Likes the ice cubes against his nipple or the gentle slap to his face. (Remember if you’re going to do this to talk things out. Betraying one’s trust sucks ass, and you SHOULDN’T do that. Always have a safe word, too. <3)

Overstimulation feels like something forbidden to him. To push his partner or himself past their limits. Watching you squirt from him continuously thrusting into you. Making his dick curl into that spot that sends you to heaven. Or watching the slick drip onto the floor as he fingers you in the shower. You didn’t even notice you’d be dripping. Loves it if you’re both in the mood, if not, he’ll be lazy. Cockwarming or consensual somno makes him happy, too. Wants to see you whimpering for him to stop. Gives him p

There’s also something I wanted to say about sexting with him… Dry. He’s dry. He halfway gets your texts but getting an image? Excusing himself into the bathroom to jerk one off and send you a husky voice message. Send him more? Getting that classic text of ‘Please stop, I’m at work. I’ll take care of you when I’m home…’ That’s the code for ‘I’ll give you lovin’ later, baby.’

Lazy sex… That’s so common for the pair of you. Resting on top of him with his soft cock in you. Hand rubbing your back and him talking about work. Doesn’t matter if it’s RE2R or DI, it’s the same. Lazy/Comfort sex is the best sex to him. Feels normal, and it’s better than actual sex to him. Cuddle sex as well, he’s an intimate guy at heart. Gently rocking into you while having a simple conversation. Interlacing your fingers together and squeezing at your chest. Kisses on your neck and sweet little murmurs of affection.

Tomorrow, my fic should be posted! So slow with requests so sorry about that!

[suempu]

hiiii could you write some nsfw headcanons for chilchuck with a reader who’s insecure about their body?

gn + implied human! reader + kinda dominant chilly chuckles

<3

oh my, that man is not good with emotions. one of his flaws is that he’s kind of bad at dealing with them since they leave him in a vulnerable state. it was no secret that he’s emotionally constipated, his past wife left him because of that.

but ever since you came along, chilchuck has been slowly improving, not wanting a repeat of what happened. he’s acknowledged that by loving someone, he needs to be able to be open with his feelings and become mindful of yours.

once you work up the courage to tell him, he visibly stiffens up. chilchuck is silent for a few seconds, he really wasn’t expecting this while he was kissing you up.

he spends a few moments awkwardly fiddling with the buttons of his half done shirt as he thinks of the right words to say.

“…. i… don’t really care about what you look like.”

okay. he could’ve worded that better.

“i-i mean! i enjoy being with you… for who you are.”

chilchuck’s biting his lip, looking at you hesitantly as he reaches a hand out to you. he’s looking anxious before you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

he yelps as he’s tucked into your chest, letting out a sigh of relief that you don’t seem upset. you pull away and look down at him with a smile.

“you suck at this.”

“i know.” he sends you a grin.

placing one hand around you, he pushes you gently to sit on the bed. he stands in front of you and holds your face, nuzzling into your nose which brings a laugh out of you.

“i know i’m bad at… this kind of stuff but i meant what i said.” he looks at you seriously, big ears twitching as hair strands falls to his face, rough and messy after your heated lip-lock earlier.

“i’m nothing but an old, brooding man. i love the way you make me feel and i want… you to l-love how i make you feel…. regardless of what you look like.”

he can see how you’re biting back a snicker as he tries to get his act together. chilchuck can feel his face getting hotter as he hears your bubbling laughter. but he’s glad you’re less nervous as before.

“y-you think this is real funny, do ya?” he yells out.

he’s kinda grumpy after all that, feeling a bit embarrassed that you laughed at him. after a few kisses smothered on to his face, he slowly gets back into the mood, making sure to pay extra attention to your reactions.

if you ever cover yourself up, he will give you a peck while slowly taking your hands off and whispering reassuring phrases.

he will kiss down your body as he keeps his eyes on you, forcing you to watch him. when he finds out which part makes you insecure the most, chilchuck will leave open mouthed kisses and suck a hickey on it.

with his enhanced hearing and senses, your quiet whimpers and gasps gets him going as he touches and feels you thoroughly with his fingers.

since this is your first time being intimate together as a couple, he makes sure to treat you softly and gently. he’s attentive to the spots that make you moan out the most, notices how you grip the sheets harder when he licks and sucks on a certain area. all of them noted in his head so he can figure out what else you’ll like.

chilchuck groans breathily, he’s kind of ashamed to lose control of himself, thinking it’d only embarrass himself.

“am i not making you feel good..?”

“where did this come from?”

“you don’t… make as much noises as i do. i’m wondering if i’m not doing enough.”

once he hears your reason, he immediately rushes to assure you. though still a bit hesitant, he’ll try to let go more the next time you’ll get intimate.

can i just say he’s skilled at giving oral. his hands and fingers can take you to god and back once he finally finds out what specific things you like. he loves being all in there, loves your smell, your sounds, your fluids.

he doesn’t say it out loud though. which makes you wonder why he keeps asking if you could fuck his face whenever you two do it.

“is this some sort of kink of yours?”

“just say yes or no!”

after one round, he can get pretty spent. but if you’re still needy, he can muster some energy to make love to you slowly.

oh, and he lives for lazy morning sex. sometimes you’ll wake up to him kissing down your shoulder and arm, whispering small ‘wake up’s to your buzzing ears.

aftercare with him is… well, lazy too. he’ll drop to your side, breathless as he stares up at the ceiling. after a few moments he’ll sit up and look down at you on the bed, whispering sweet praises as he holds your face.

he’ll smoke for a bit, facing away from you. he doesn’t want you to cough from the smoke after all.

drags you to the bathroom after a few moments. he hates being sweaty and you’ll have to kill him before you force him to snuggle right after sex.

chilchuck just doesn’t like feeling gross, he’d want to be clean as soon as possible. he will fuss over you during bathing. divorced father of three but with the way he’s acting makes him look like a mother.

he will scrub you down to the bone but will be less aggressive if you tell him it makes you uncomfortable.

“put your clothes in the basket, dry your hair, make sure you brush your teeth properly.”

“i always do! follow your own advice, you alcoholic.”

“i will drown you in this tub.”

what a nice and loving man, am i right

after bath time, he’ll lay on his side with nothing on but some underwear. his arm is around your torso as you fall asleep while he watches you with a soft smile, fingers tracing soft shapes on to your skin.

8/10 for being emotionally constipated but an A+ for trying. (i’m kidding he’s great)

[ashintheairlikesnow]

now i’m craving streetkid chris waaaaa

if you have some time and energy, could you be persuaded to perhaps write some streetkid chris with jake and the safehouse? i’ve never stopped needing comfort for him

CW: Heavily internalized ableism, referenced past dubcon and noncon, some internal dehumanization, referenced drug use

(Street kid Chris au pieces here and here)

-

He sobers up, more or less, on the bus ride out of the center of the city, his forehead resting against the cool glass window. It's all a blur that moves through and around him, steel and concrete shifting to grass and trees and little houses placed next to each other like a child's toys.

Baldur hides a smile, imagining a giant toddler hand lining the houses up one by one by one by one, picking doll families to live in the little doll houses. Giant baby god giving this family a dog and this family a goldfish and that one a pretty boy like Baldur to do everything they say-

A laugh catches in his throat, dies there with the chill of sudden grief. What is his Sir doing? Is he at home with some new pet, playing games? Was Baldur replaced that quickly?

Of course he was. He was never special, never really very good even. Pretty, until he got too old. Stupid statue-boy trying and trying to hold still and never winning any of Sir's games. Sir would've ordered someone else right away.

He's probably forgotten about Baldur by now.

His throat tightens even more, heat stinging his eyes, but Baldur fights it back. The only thing worse than his wrong words and his wrong hands is when he cries, of course. Sir always says-

But Sir doesn't want him any longer, isn't there to tell him never to cry and then play games and hurt him until he does it anyway.

"Hey." Kauri, sitting next to him, must catch something in the shift of movement in his throat when he swallows or the stare of his glassy green eyes. "What's up, buttercup? You need some water? I know coming down always makes me so thirsty I could scream."

Baldur shakes his head, curling up as best he can, pulling his knees to his chin with his heels pressed against the edge of the seat, pushing the dirty soles of his shoes against the cushioned fabric. "No thank you," He whispers. "I... I'm fine."

"Yeah, yeah. I've heard that before - or I guess I should say that I've said that before. And you know what, Chris? Never once was I actually fine. So. Here." Kauri holds a bottle of water out, shaking it a little as if trying to lure a stray cat with a can of tuna. "Come on, have a drink. It'll help hold off the headache, I swear."

Baldur's fingers are shaking when he takes the bottle, and it takes three tries to get the cap open, but the water is cool and clean on his tongue and down his throat, and before he realizes it the bottle is half empty, his chest feels cold on the inside as the water trickles through him, and he's gasping for breath.

Kauri's smile is soft, gentle, only a little sad. "There we go. Keep working on it, okay? Hydration is the best defense against hangovers, not that I ever take my own advice. But it is still excellent advice."

By the bus reaches a stop that Kauri declares is theirs, he's had all the water and it's an empty bottle he stashes in his backpack. He can refill it at the first sink he sees, have something he doesn't have to beg for or fuck for to drink later on.

Baldur steps off the bus and into a neighborhood right out of TV.

Houses line the street on either side, and Baldur stares at old trees that rise over his head, dappling the ground with shade that blocks some of the heat of the sun. The air smells like grass, and there's a drone from somewhere nearby that he realizes must be a lawn mower, a sound he's only heard from Sir's windows while watching the landscapers work far, far below.

There's a fence around the yard next to them - a white fence, even, with chips of peeling paint. Baldur moves to it, reaching out and letting his fingertips brush the rough wood, one nail scratching at a bit of paint coming free. He doesn't hear himself humming, low and tuneless, repeating over and over, until Kauri pops back into view in the corner of his eye.

"You never seen a fence before?" Kauri teases, but then Baldur flinches back and away and watches Kauri's smile falter, briefly, before it determinedly returns. "Sorry. I scared you, huh?"

"I'm fine," Baldur says too fast, realizing too late that he isn't answering the question Kauri asked - either of them. The blush heats his cheeks and he turns away, jamming his hands in his pockets as hard as he can, hunching his shoulders. "Fine. I'm... I'm fine."

The word sounds good in his mouth. Soothes his mind. He opens his mouth to say it again, fine fine fine - but Baldur catches himself this time. He can't repeat words he hears, that's wrong. Can't stammer, that's wrong. Can't move, or sway, or use his hands - wrong.

All wrong.

"Right. Well, come on. The house is this way." Kauri walks a little ways away, then looks back over his shoulder. Baldur hurries to catch up, keeping himself hunched. The weight of his backpack is familiar and comforting, all his things in there. The usual headache when the pills wear off teases around the edge of his mind, but it doesn't take hold. Maybe Kauri was right about the water.

Kauri talks, chatting brightly. His hands move constantly, in gestures and emphasis, and Baldur keeps staring at it. Sir would have slapped his hands if he moved them so much, but Kauri doesn't even notice he does it.

The house has people there like them, Kauri explains, although not like them like them, just - other pets. Domestics, mostly. The woman who runs the house, like the shelters Baldur has stayed at but they won't make him pray.

"Trust me," Kauri reassures, "I wouldn't stay there if they did. I've traded a bed and some food for having to go to their church and let them tell me what a bad boy I am enough for one lifetime, thank you. Sinners have more fun, anyway." He winks, and Baldur blinks back at him. "The last time I stayed at one, the pastor hit on me. The very, very married pastor. Which goes to show you - when you are as good in bed as I am, even God doesn't measure up."

Baldur swallows. He should say something - something witty. Kauri seems to have things to say about everything, all of the time, but Baldur's mind is still slow from the pills, even though he's sobering up. He can't think of anything except to say, "Really?"

"Really." Kauri's smile is bright, flash of sun off the hood of a car blinding but with something about it that seems cracked, too. "Once we get there, I'll make introductions. But I promise, everybody is nice."

"... Nice," Baldur murmurs. Nobody is, not really, in his experience. Everybody takes something in return for every bit of nice they offer. Everybody sees his barcode and knows they can do whatever they want to him, and then they do. And if he's lucky it's only to make him eat food that makes him feel sick, or talk to him about how he's walking a dark path, as if there has ever been a lighter one. Or sometimes they tell him to go lay down on the bed-

"We're here!" Kauri's voice cuts into Baldur's thoughts, and he looks up.

In front of him there's a two-story house with white siding, flat-faced with windows that look down on him like eyes. There's a porch with chairs on it, and sitting in one of them is a tall, thin man with a mess of dark hair and sharp, dark almost-feline eyes. He's fiddling with something in his hands, but when he sees them he shoves whatever it was into his pocket and quickly stands.

Baldur hesitates - but Kauri moves right up the overgrown path, flat stones half-covered by grass and weeds. "Hey, Ant! I brought someone."

"I see this," The man says, in a smooth, accented voice. He sounds like velvet. Baldur looks at him, trying to think. Just a blowjob, probably. Easy. Baldur has traded those for lots of things. He barely has to do anything, once they grab his head. "Kauri-"

"Oh, wipe that worry off your face, Antoni, he's one of us." Kauri waves a hand back at Baldur, then grabs at his arm to pull him forward. "I brought him to meet Nat and Jake. Chris, this is Antoni. Antoni, this is Chris."

Antoni looks at him, then turns and silently heads back into the house.

Baldur swallows, shifting to half-hide himself behind Kauri. "... he doesn't... like me."

"Nah, Antoni's just kind of a mood killer professionally. He's a softie once you get to know him, I promise." Kauri half-drags him up the steps and through the front door, into an entryway that has a pile of coats abandoned on a coat rack, shoes on a mat. The house smells like something cooking, and Baldur's mouth waters, his stomach twisting as it remembers how to feel hungry and not just emptied-out and light. "Jake! Hey, Jake!"

"Jake's out," A woman's voice says. Baldur stares as an older woman pops her head in. She has brown hair with bits of gray in it in a braid that lays over one shoulder, a flannel shirt over a t-shirt and ancient jeans, and a soft smile ringed in laugh lines that crinkles at the corners and near her eyes.

She's beautiful.

"Who's this?" The woman looks from him to Kauri, with curiosity - not trepidation, not worry, and not anger. "You brought someone by?"

"Yeah. This is, uh, this is Chris. He's one of us. Chris, this is Nat. She feeds me sometimes."

"Love that description." Nat's voice is wry with good humor, and she steps forward, holding out her hand. "I have hobbies, too, you know. Hello, Chris. I'm Nat, and this is my house. I help runaways from WRU start over."

He stares at her outstretched hand, then back at her, before hesitantly shaking. His grip is limp compared to hers, but she doesn't say anything about it. "I-... I thought... you were... a man."

"No, that's Jake," Kauri corrects him. "He insists on having a life outside of waiting for my beautiful ass to show back up, so we'll see him later."

"... Okay." Baldur studies the woman - Nat - thoughtfully. Then he offers, "I can... do women, too."

Nat's expression changes - so subtly he can't tell what the change is. But he sees it. Baldur knows how to tell when the mood of a room goes sour, to try to protect himself. "Romantic," She murmurs. "I see. Kauri-"

"Don't say he can't come here," Kauri interrupts, bristling, and Baldur stares at him in open terror as his heart drops to his knees. He's angry at one of them. Baldur didn't know you could do that. "He's got as much a right as anybody else does, and you let me come here, and he could use the help, Nat, so don't you dare-"

"Kauri. Hey." Nat puts her hands up, as if surrendering in a fight. "That's not what I was gonna say. I was going to say, Kauri, how about you set him a place at the table for dinner. Okay?"

Kauri's jaw is set, and it takes him a moment to stop looking ready to keep up the argument that isn't even happening. "I-... yeah. Okay. Yeah, I'll do that. Just-... Nat, you know that a lot of places won't-"

"I know. It's okay, honey. It really is okay. Just go get him set up. And you." Nat smiles at Baldur, and he tries to see the mean she's hiding, but it isn't there. Too buried underneath a kind face, maybe. Baldur can't imagine there just isn't any cruelty there at all. "We take all kinds here, and you're welcome. No one touches you here, and I'd prefer if you kept your hands to yourself at first."

Those words don't mean anything. The shelters say that a lot, too, but Baldur still wakes up to a hand over his mouth and a voice whispering to him to be quiet sometimes when he sleeps in one. He'll find out the real cost of staying here at some point.

But he'll find out with food in his stomach, and that's worth something.

"Yes, ma'am," He murmurs, looking up and around at the high ceiling in the entryway, carpet-covered stairs that curve up and disappear around an angle. Bookshelves, and off to one side the corner of a living room with a TV playing.

"Just Nat is fine. Kauri?"

"Got it." Kauri gives a mocking, if still friendly, salute. It makes Baldur smile - but he hides it behind his serious face when he sees Nat look at him. "I'll get him settled in. Maybe we'll stay over tonight? If that seems like a good idea, if not-"

"It sounds great."

Baldur watches her go, heading up the stairs - that creak as she walks, giving away the house's age. Wondering what she'll want him to do later on, to pay for the food, to earn the bed he'll sleep in.

He has more pills in his pocket. He can take some, and drift through whatever staying here costs, let his body and training do all the work. He's done it before, over and over again.

He'll always have to do it again, sooner or later.

When Kauri takes his hand again, he lets himself be led.

He doesn't notice the dark-haired man, Antoni, watching him from a doorway as Baldur digs out two small pills and swallows them dry while following Kauri into the kitchen.

[sequinsmile-x]

The Albatross

The dizziness she’d been trying to ignore suddenly takes over, her vision turning into a pinpoint before disappearing entirely. She falls, narrowly missing hitting her head on the corner of her desk, and she slips out of consciousness.

Her last thought is of her family, their happy faces staring down at her from the picture on her desk.

A reimagining of Route 66, in which Emily experiences complications from an old injury.

Part 1/2

-x-

Hi friends,

This is based on a message I got over on twitter from the lovely Suu <3 As soon as she sent it to me I couldn't stop thinking about it and here we are.

I settled on this being a two parter, and part 2 will be up over the weekend!

I really hope you like it, and I will anticipate the yelling. <3

(Also, lets appreciate the fact it took a week and a half for me to use a TTPD song as a fic title. That's growth haha)

-x-

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: injury, canon compliant themes

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She feels awful the moment she wakes up, her limbs impossibly heavy as she forces herself out of bed, pain in her abdomen pulling a groan out of her as she stands up. She takes a moment to try and blink away the discomfort, briefly dizzy with it as she hisses and rubs her stomach, only driven forward towards the door when she hears her son cries from the next room. 

“I can go get him, sweetheart.” 

Emily smiles as she turns to look at her husband, shaking her head as she continues walking out of their room, “You get all day with him, I need my snuggles.” 

She winks at Aaron as she leaves the room and heads towards the nursery. She groans again as nausea rolls through her and she pauses, leaning against the wall as she breathes through it. She’d felt off-kilter the last few days, nausea, exhaustion and pain that she put down to her periods and hormones still being out of sync after she’d had Issac six months ago. She knew she was still adjusting post-pregnancy but she hated that she still didn’t feel in control of her body. She blows out a breath and walks into the nursery, a smile spreading across her face as she looks at her son, a sympathetic whine leaving her as she walks him over and picks him up, his cries immediately muffled by her skin as he buries his face against her neck.

“Oh tell me all about it, sweet boy,” she says, pressing a kiss to his temple, patting his back soothingly as she settles into the armchair, “Mommy’s got you.” 

Issac grabs at her shirt and presses his face into her chest. She chuckles and adjusts her shirt, expertly unbuttoning it and unhooking the cup of her bra with one hand, a trick that months ago, when Issac was tiny and seemingly endlessly fragile, felt impossible. Aaron had told her that she’d be a natural, patiently talking her down from every edge her anxiety pushed her towards as her due date drew near, a loving smile on his face as he told her that she was already an amazing mom to Jack, and part of her was furious he was right. A stubborn streak in her that she’d never been able to get past that she felt bubbling in her gut whenever he’d smile at her, a hint of I told you so pressed into his dimples whenever he watched her with Issac. 

She rests her head on the back of the chair as he latches on, her eyes closing for a moment as she hums to him. She looks down at her little boy and sighs contentedly, everything else disappearing for a moment apart from the two of them. She runs her knuckles down his cheek as he feeds, his skin still as soft as the day he’d been born, and she feels familar love warm her from the inside out. 

“Mommy has to go to work today,” she says quietly, tracing her fingers over his dark hair. She hears the floorboard outside of the nursery creak, a specific spot they’d avoid if they knew Issac was sleeping, and she smiles, “But I bet if we ask really nicely, Daddy will bring you in for lunch so I can see you both.” 

She looks up as the door opens and Aaron walks into the room, just like she knew he would, and he smiles widely at her, “I’m sure we can manage that.” 

Before they’d even started trying for a baby they discussed what would happen with their careers. It hadn’t felt right to either of them for them both to continue working at the BAU. After a lot of back and forth, and more than one argument, they’d settled on her staying and him moving on. It felt right for them, and she knew Aaron had been keen to do it - wanting to learn from the mistakes he’d made in the past. In the end, he’d decided to leave the FBI altogether, content to stay at home whilst Issac was still so young. He taught a class at the academy a couple of times a week to stop himself from going completely insane, but she knew he enjoyed it. In her worst moments, she was almost jealous of the time he got with the boys, but she wasn’t ready to leave her work behind yet. And for the first time in her life, she had what she’d always wanted - a family to come home to. 

The last thing she’d anticipated was that Strauss would offer her the Unit Chief position. Aaron hadn’t been as shocked as Emily had been and she later found out he’d been the one to recommend her, something that she’d briefly been mad at him for, not wanting anyone to think it was just because she was married to him. He’d assured her, as had Strauss, that it was nothing to do with that, that her history and skills spoke for themselves. She’d returned to work in her new role when Issac was three months old and, despite the added stress, she loved it. 

“Good,” she says, looking down at Issac as he pulls away from her, smiling softly at him as she passes him over to Aaron when he reaches for him. She winces as she lifts her arms, the ache in her abdomen turning into a sharp pain as she hands the baby over. She tries to cover it with a smile as her eyes meet her husbands, “I’d miss you too much otherwise.” 

Aaron frowns at her, concern licking at his insides as he rests Issac against his shoulder, patting his son’s back as he looks his wife up and down, “Are you okay?” 

She clears her throat and nods, standing up and clenching her teeth as the dizziness returns, her head hazy as she steadies herself on the crib for a second, “I’m fine.”

He sighs, stepping towards her, “Em-”

“I said I’m fine,” she snaps, immediately feeling guilty as she cuts him off. She sighs and closes the gap between them, her hand on his arm as she squeezes it, leaning in to kiss an apologetic kiss against his lips, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. I’m fine. I’m just tired.” 

He isn’t sure if he believes her, but he knows not to push her, not now anyway, so he nods, kissing her back, “You should get ready, you don’t want to be late.” 

She nods and kisses him once more before she kisses Issac’s head and leaves the room. She rubs her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose as she walks back into the master bedroom, the start of a headache pressing at the back of her eyes. 

She tells herself that she’ll be fine once she has a coffee and she gets ready, taking time to say goodbye to her boys before she leaves, making sure Jack has the homework she’d helped him with the night before in his bag. 

It’s gone 11 am by the time she accepts that she isn’t well, the morning dragging by like syrup, time slowing down around her as her headache and stomach ache gets worse, her vision blurry with it as she tries to do her paperwork. She knows she’s taken her bad mood out on the team, her door and curtains closed as she sought out solitude in her office after complaining about how behind they were with their paperwork. 

She eventually gives in to the fact she needs painkillers and she stands up to get them from her purse. The dizziness she’d been trying to ignore suddenly takes over, her vision turning into a pinpoint before disappearing entirely. She falls, narrowly missing hitting her head on the corner of her desk, and she slips out of consciousness.

Her last thought is of her family, their happy faces staring down at her from the picture on her desk. ___

Aaron readjusts his hold on Issac as he steps into the elevator, chuckling as he turns his attention to his son who was seconds away from trying to put his father’s visitor badge in his mouth.

“I don’t think so, buddy,” he says, unclipping it from his polo shirt and moving it out of Issac’s reach, smiling when the baby frowns at him, a look written all over his face that Emily would always say was all him. He tickles Issac’s stomach and smiles as the baby giggles, a sound that never fails to make Aaron’s heart swell in his chest, “You excited to see Mommy?” 

Issac babbles in response as the elevator doors open onto the BAU’s floor and Aaron sucks in a breath as he steps out into the hallway that he’d once walked every day. 

It was strange being a visitor in a place that had been so significant in his life. He’d built his career here. He’d lost his first marriage to this place and met the love of his life here too. A constant give and take that had formed decades of his life. He’d known horror and joy and gut-wrenching sadness in between these walls, and he knew he could never regret a second of it, not when it had led him to the life he had now. 

“Hotch and Little Hotch,” Derek says, his smile wide as Aaron walks into the bullpen, the nickname for Issac that Emily hated slipping free easily when she wasn’t in earshot, “What are you guys doing here? Where’s Medium Hotch?” 

“Jack’s at school,” he explains, ignoring his eldest son’s nickname too, “Issac and I are taking Emily for lunch,” Aaron says, frowning when he looks at his wife’s office, the closed door and shut blinds unusual, “Is she in a meeting?” 

Derek shrugs, “I don’t know man, she’s not in a good mood though.” 

“She isn’t?” He asks, thinking back to that morning, how she’d snapped at him before immediately apologising, something that hadn’t happened since the early days of Issac’s life when they barely slept at all.

Aaron feels the concern he’d felt earlier return, a churning in his gut that he doesn’t fully understand, an instinct he can’t ignore that something was wrong with his wife. She’d not been feeling like herself for days, he knew that, but she’d pushed him away whenever he mentioned it. She claimed it was her period regulating after having Issac, or that she was tired after a long day of work. 

Derek shakes his head, “She told us all we’re behind on paperwork and then shut her office door” he says, reaching out and ruffling Issac’s hair, smiling when the baby giggles, “You’d better put your cutest face on Little Hotch, be a good boy and cheer up your Mama for the rest of us.” 

Aaron chuckles politely and then nods towards Emily’s office, “We’ll go cheer her up, right buddy?” 

He smiles as he almost walks into Dave on the walkway, a wry smile on the older man's face, “You’re here to cheer up our fearless leader I assume?” 

Aaron hums and nods towards Issac, the baby getting fussy as if he could tell his mother was near.

“I brought the big guns,” he says, knocking briefly on Emily’s office door before he steps in, “Hi sweetheart…” 

He drifts off as he takes in the scene in front of him, time slowing down as he looks at the scattered papers and the chair jutting out at a strange angle. For a moment, as he looks at his wife lying on the floor, he can’t quite take it in, his breath caught in his chest as he stares at her, a ringing in his ears that he can’t shake off, memories of finding Haley laying in their old bedroom years ago flashing across his vision. A grim showreel as it feels like his past collides with his present. 

His senses come back all at once as Dave steps into the room too, his gasp pulling Aaron back to the present, time returning to normal speed so quickly it hits him square in the chest, making him breathless. 

“Emily,” he says, his voice shaking as he hands Issac over to Dave, grateful when his friend takes his son, his hands already out and waiting. Aaron doesn’t feel pain as his knees hit the floor, doesn't feel the ache spreading through his joints as he touches Emily’s slack face, trying to wake her up with nothing more than his touch, “Emily, sweetheart, I need you to wake up.” 

His nerves fray as she doesn’t respond, her head lulling to the side as he tries to gather her against him. Panic swells in his chest as he hears Dave yell out for someone to call an ambulance, the chaos from the team in the bullpen driving Issac to burst into tears, his cries only increasing when Dave thwarts his attempt to get to his parents. 

Aaron looks up at Dave, his eyebrows furrowed as JJ and Derek enter the room too, the latter getting on the floor with Aaron, kneeling by her side like he once had in a warehouse in Boston. 

“The ambulance is on its way,” Derek says, his voice tight, the pleasant nature of their conversation just minutes ago feeling like nothing short of a lifetime ago.

“How long has she been like this?” Aaron demands, looking back and forth between them, anger flaring in his chest when they all shake their heads, guilt and panic painted across their faces, “When did any of you last speak to her?” 

“She asked to be left alone,” JJ says, her voice shaking as she takes Issac from Dave, doing her best to calm the little boy down, “We didn’t…we didn’t know.” 

Aaron clenches his teeth, desperately trying to make sure he didn’t lash out at his friends, that he didn’t say something he’d later regret. He turns his attention back to Emily, his hand tightly around hers, lifting it to kiss her knuckles, his lips grazing her wedding rings.

“Sweetheart,” he begs, not caring who was there to listen, who was there to watch the cracks form in his once impenetrable facade, “Please, wake up.” 

The silence he gets in return is deafening, overriding the panic in the bullpen and his son’s whimpering cries from the other side of the room.

___

Emily groans as she wakes up, her head spinning as she tries to make sense of what’s happened, of where she is. 

She looks around the street she finds herself in, at first unsure when she’d even left the office, and she frowns as she spots a movie theatre, finding herself drawn to it. She pauses outside, the familiar feeling of being watched burning at the back of her neck, goosebumps making her shiver as they spread throughout her body. 

“Hi Emily, it’s been a long time.” 

She freezes at the sound of the familar voice. One she’d heard on tapes more than she’d ever heard in person, the joy that would always flow from it in family videos so different to the last words she’d ever spoken. Words Emily had heard down a phone line back when Aaron was just her boss and Jack wasn’t her son. 

She sucks in a breath as she turns around, her eyes wide as they meet the hazel ones their son had inherited. 

“Haley?”

-x-

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[deluweil]

To be honest the way part of the fandom has treated this Tommy character as a god makes me dislike him more. Unfortunately the Buck bi arc was tainted for me because it all feels force. Also what doesn't help is that Eddie was to much involved in that storyline.

The way people are acting like it's a perfect relationship and yet we barely saw them together feels just weird.

Also I don't like how some literally push Eddie away for this new white man.

This is Taylor Kelly all over again. The sad part is that the season is short and people wAnt to to spend their time giving more to the new guy.

I hope him and Marisol are gone, but I'm afraid. These two characters took the joy out of the Buck and Eddie storyline for me.

The fandom, I think, in this case, is definitely the problem here,

Lou is completely unassuming and enjoying the process and being a buddie shipper just like us - if one actually bothers to read the interviews and not just pick and choose what to talk about.

That is what makes me like Lou.

The fandom has somehow glorified Tommy's character after a couple of episodes and yeah it rubs the wrong way, because, what about the story we had so far?

Is season 7 a reset to 911? and everything that came before that doesn't count? Why not just make it 911 abc pilot then?

I don't think that's the case, but I think the last minute switch between Buck and Eddie kind of ruined it for the Tim because, yes, in a way it feels forced and out of left field.

Supposed that Buck was indeed vying for Tommy's attention, why do it like that? and why involve Eddie in the first place?

I have a lot of questions and my main problem here is not that Buck is experimenting with Tommy, it's the way they practically propelled this ship off the cliff into a dangerous spin, they went from zero to 200 in a second. - That is not how you build a relationship.

You don't try to figure out what you want, mess up the first date, then invite said date to an apology coffee and then invite him to family wedding on the way. It just doesn't work that way.

I may be straight, but I have gay and bi and lesbian friends, neither one of them has ever brought a second or even a third date to so much as a friends get together before they were sure that this is something that would last, before they brought the intended victim to be judged by friends and family.

And people who talk about Tommy as being established in the 118 family, that is not true. He has a connection with Chimney in that that he owes him his life and an acquaintance with Hen, who is clearly not very fond of him, because of obvious past she had with him and their old house before Bobby came into the picture. - Remember - Chimney was her ONLY lifeline in that house.

Tommy was not a liked character before.

Arguably Buck had more history with Taylor than he did with Tommy (which is none at all) - But Taylor is a strong opinionated and often self-serving woman (not unlike Buck mind you), emphasis on woman. - That is the only reason she never stood a chance. Because the writers could have made her and Buck the greatest love story this show has seen, but they continuously managed to ruin any fondness for any female LI to ever grace that set.

And this season is short, to bring in a new LI kinda defeats the purpose of re-establishing the team and this show, because it does feel the same as any of Buck's old relationships that were being pushed for the benefit of 'god forbid Buck actually learns how to be alone and healthy and happy' - the only thing that changed in Buck this season is his sexuality and nothing else, and that vexes me.

My problem is not with Tommy, it's the perpetuation of 'poor baby Buck' society. - I love Oliver and I love Buck - I am tired of the ever repeating pattern of forgiveness for his self serving ways without any accountability that we keep seeing.

I don't think Buck's or even Eddie's firsts or you know what? even seconds should be each other, I am more than happy to make this journey with them, but let it be a marathon not a sprint to the finish line - they knew they would get renewed for another season, they could have written and built it better than what we got - because the moment they switched gears after the second episode, the story became written in the same messy last minute way both S4 and most of S5 were written.

There is no grand plan, at this point they are merely winging it and see where the wind takes them. - And that is idiotic, they had SO MUCH TIME to make this a well written story with the strike and long break after that, to write as they film is lazy and stupid and mostly childish.

And yes this is Taylor all over again, not in that they are the same type of people, but that Buck is jumping head first into a relationship without actually knowing how he got there. - Bobby said that himself - and it is the same, because who in their right mind invite a second (kinda) date to a family event? Like dude have you ever dated before? Do you how this works?

It is a LOT of pressure and not even for Buck himself - because he brought this on himself - but rather for Tommy (aka the intended victim) to be first introduced to the family after a couple of dates when he himself has no idea where he and Buck are standing.

Marisol, has indeed sucked the joy out of the Eddie's story, I don't get why do either of the boys had to be in a relationship starting this season to begin with. Like, she is literally a handbag, the token hetero symbol, so to speak, what she is doing there? is beyond me.

The catholic guilt of her being a nun is bullshit, and as Bobby said himself, Eddie has no problem committing to certain people/things. She serves no purpose this season other than a seat warmer/ glorified babysitter since Buck is otherwise engaged.

They could have gone for Eddie finding his way in the department, Eddie dealing with his mommy issues, Eddie trying to figure out what and who he wants in his life, Eddie trying to navigate Chris' terrible teenage years.

They could have explored the fact that a guy going with his supposed gf/wife in the golf course checking Eddie's hot ass (6X17) - Oh wait, they were going to... the ground for Eddie's coming out was all laid out and they took a sharp turn to left field in the second episode of S7 and made it all about Buck again, because the Natalia actress couldn't come?? what kind of a weak ass reason is that?

And yes, the cliche of receiving the odd white man out (who played a controversial role in early seasons) rather than the regular casted poc male or the guest starring woman, for that matter, better is all kind of f-ed up, but no one would talk about that, of course. 👀

Anyway, I am hoping that whatever is coming next will be worthy of our time and attention because so far we got about more of the same as far as Buck and Eddie are concerned - except that Buck has just broaden his variety and has a bigger pallet of mate choosing at his disposal.

I have two very close bi friends, so I know how their minds work, because God knows they share with me more than I ever wanted to know lol. And one of them is watching 911 with me and she is happy for the rep as well, but unhappy with how it was developed too.

At the moment, I have decided to put any Buck and Eddie topics aside and just want to get the LONG AWAITED Madney wedding, if anyone deserve a happy ending, it's them. ❤️

[juiles]

Sticking Out Sucks 3

Requested: no

Summary: part 3 of the au where they find out a secret of yours they dont love.

Tags: fluff

Triggers: smoking

Masterlist here.

Requests here.

Taglist here.

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I looked out at the field below my window as I sat on the windowsill, a cigarette between my lips taking small puffs. A calming lull of security ran around me as Queen songs played on in the background. This was something I did when I knew my new mothers were out. It was a lot easier to hide when they hated me. Well, I guess they never hated me but when they decided to ignore me for my own benefit. Something I’m still getting used to is having two parents who care about my health. If they knew I smoked, they would freak out, I would probably get grounded for life.

I heard the elevator ding meaning someone was coming on to our floor which was odd because nobody but me and my mothers ever came up here. I quickly extinguished the cigarette in my hand and stashed the whole pack and my lighter away in a small nook right outside that was kept dry by a stone I shoved over top. I quickly sprayed some body spray around my room and settled back on the windowsill, music still playing in the background.

I heard a knock and yelled come in. My door opened and Bruce was standing in my doorway. “Your moms told me to feed you while they were gone, din-“ He stopped mid sentence and sniffed the air around him. “Why does it strongly smell like vanilla with a hint of cigarette smoke in here?” My heart rate picked up slightly but, on the outside, kept a calm façade. I shrugged flipping the knife in my hand around. “Y/N?”

“Its probably someone outside smoking. I had a candle lit not too long ago.” I muttered looking over at the man in the doorway. “What did my mothers say you were to do again?” I asked placing the switchblade on the dresser beside me.

“Right. Food is on the table in the kitchen. Its pizza and wings. Sorry I can’t cook like your mom.” He said with a small sheepish look on his face. I shrugged and grabbed my phone off my bed, following him as he walks out my door and towards the elevator.

“That’s fine. I was used to less than that before.” I said as he pushed the elevator button and the doors opened with a ding. I pushed past him lightly as I got on, him following up behind me and pressing the button for the main living floor where the kitchen was. We stood in silence as I scrolled through my phone.

“If you’re smoking you need to tell me.” He said out of the blue, making me look up at him with shock. “You’re thirteen years old. Your body is not ready to handle those types of things. Those drugs.” He said looking at me strongly.

I tried to play it cool. “If I was smoking Bruce, you wouldn’t know. I’m to smart for that.” I bit my lip looking down at my feet as the doors opened. I quickly stepped out of the elevator and made my way towards the kitchen trying to get away from him.

As I sat and ate my pizza, the doors opened revealing my two mothers, dirty but otherwise not looking to bad. “Detka.” I looked up and my face broke out into a giant smile. My safe people were home. It had been a week since my breakdown and they’ve been nothing but supportive in everything I need and I knew that tomorrow we would be having the conversation with Fury about taking me off missions, something that I was ridiculously looking forward to.

“Momma!” I said, hopping off the stool and running towards the two women. “Mama! You guys are back early! I thought you wouldn’t be back until early tomorrow morning!”

“We happened to finish early so we thought we would come home and spend the night together! Movie night?” Natasha said with a small smile as I wrapped myself up into their arms. Nat sniffed my head then pulled me back with a raised eyebrow.

My smile immediately faded as I looked up at the redhead in front of me. “Hi mama.” I said sheepishly. Her smile faded as well as she looked over at Wanda then back at me. “We have pizza…?”

“Why do I smell cigarette in your hair young lady?” She asked, nervously I shrugged and went back to the counter where my pizza was sitting. “No. Why do I smell cigarette in your hair?” I shrugged again and took a bite of my pizza, knowing it was fruitless to lie to them, but I still didn’t want to admit it to her.

“Natasha what are you talking about?” Wanda said, making her way over to me and placing a kiss on my head before she stopped and sniffed my hair as well. I knew I had forgotten to spray something, my hair. “You do smell like cigarette smoke. Why?” Wanda said, making me put down my piece of pizza.

I shrugged again but stopped when I heard a cough from beside me. “No lies. Truth. Now.” Instead of taking that properly, my whole body felt like an instant reaction to Wanda’s words, and I immediately went into defense.

“Why should I tell you the truth?” I snapped standing up. I pushed past the redhead on my left and found my way up the stairs and into my room. “FRIDAY, keep my door locked, no one can enter, not even Wanda and Natasha.”  I opened my window and grabbed my cigarettes, quickly pulling one out and lighting it. I took a few puffs, tears falling down my face. “Why the fuck would they want to keep me now? You’re fucking stupid Molchalin. Why would they want to keep you now?”

My door was kicked open and, in the wake, stood my redhead mother looking at me with nothing but concern and worry. “Why did you run off detka? Why did you lock yourself in?” She said running towards me, ignoring the currently lit cigarette in my hands, and pulling me into her arms. I felt the cigarette get taken out of my hand and I instinctively wrapped my arms around Natasha, small sniffles coming out.

“I’m sorry mama! I’m sorry!” I cried out looking up at her. She shushed me, tucking a piece of red hair behind my ear and pulled me into her again. Rubbing my back to calm me down. “I’m sorry I lied, I’m sorry I smoked!”

“No more tears malyshka.” Wanda said pulling me into her arms next.

“We just want to know if you plan on continuing to smoke or if you want to stop. We would really like to help you stop. Youre so young detka.” Natasha said, sitting on my bed, prompting wanda and myself to sit next to her.

“It’s calming… it makes me feel serene… something I don’t get very often.” I mumbled, picking at my fingers, being held in my mothers arms. “It was more often from when you guys ignored me… it was easier to just feel spacey then deal with what I really felt on the inside.”

“From now on, when you feel the need to smoke, why don’t you come to one of us?” Wanda suggested, running her fingers through my hair. “You come to us and we talk about why you might be feeling that way rather than smoking and ruining your body hmm?” I looked up at her, eyes wide and full of fear.

“What if I’m not sure why I feel that way?” I mumbled looking back down at my fingers. “Sometimes I feel feelings, I don’t understand and its just easier to float away than feel them…”

“Well momma and I were talking on the flight back and we thought about maybe putting you in therapy… we all had to do it when we first got out of wherever we got out of and since your now in our care, we think it would be very helpful.” Natasha said braiding my hair in small sections. I shrugged holding the teddy they had recently gotten me, tightly in my arms.

“Its scary…”

“But it will be easier with us on your side. Now, movie and cuddles? I can go get the pizza and some snacks?” I immediately perked up when mama mentioned movie and cuddles and nodded my head quickly.

“Yes please!”

Taglist:

@asiangmrchk13 @boredandneedfanfics @mythixmagic @natashamaximoff-69 @grim-trans-witch

[atopvisenyashill]

@selkiewife it's admittedly a little vague (i don't want to make it seem like this is an iron clad theory like r+l=j or something alsdjf). BUT. we know a little bit about the ship:

The Myraham was a fat-bellied southron merchanter up from Oldtown, carrying wine and cloth and seed to trade for iron ore. Her captain was a fat-bellied southron merchanter as well, and the stony sea that foamed at the feet of the castle made his plump lips quiver, so he stayed well out, farther than Theon would have liked. An ironborn captain in a longship would have taken them along the cliffs and under the high bridge that spanned the gap between the gatehouse and the Great Keep, but this plump Oldtowner had neither the craft, the crew, nor the courage to attempt such a thing. So they sailed past at a safe distance, and Theon must content himself with seeing Pyke from afar. Even so, the Myraham had to struggle mightily to keep itself off those rocks.

In ASOS, Catelyn V, we see the ship again:

Robb waited for Ser Raynald to close the tent flap. "The gods have heard our prayers, my lords. Lord Jason has brought us the captain of the Myraham, a merchanter out of Oldtown. Captain, tell them what you told me." "Aye, Your Grace." He licked his thick lips nervously. "My last port of call afore Seagard, that was Lordsport on Pyke. The ironmen kept me there more'n half a year, they did. King Balon's command. Only, well, the long and the short of it is, he's dead."

Then in Samwell V in AFFC, we get literally a one off line here:

At the Weeping Dock, he watched two acolytes help an old man into a boat for the short voyage to the Bloody Isle. A young mother climbed in after him, a babe not much older than Gilly's squalling in her arms.

So....

We know the Myraham is a merchanter who works out of Oldtown

We know the captain's daughter is like, young ish, and that he himself is old (and fat)

We know they were kept in the Iron Islands for about six months

We know Gilly has her baby/Dalla has Aemon like beginning to middle of ASOS. Timeline wise, if the Myraham was kept at the Iron Islands for six months, then went to Seaguard and back to Oldtown once again, any baby the girl has would be roughly the same age as monster and Aemon Steelsong.

Sam makes sure to note that the mother is young, the baby is around the age of aemon steelsong, and that the old man needs help getting into the boat

IT'S JUST A LITTLE THING. Maybe even what you'd call a reach lmaoooo BUT unlike the other big "theon has a bastard theory" (being the miller's sons), the timeline actually fits here. I keep wondering if it's here as way to make the world seem bigger - ie, this woman theon doesn't see as a person, who he just kinda offhandedly fucks over without even trying, is still moving about the world, still attempting to live her life as best as she can - OR if it's there for a specific reason, with the reason being she/her baby are going to be plot relevant to Theon's emotional arc or perhaps even theoretical upcoming kingsmoot that I'm almost positive Asha is going to push for, with Theon - or his bastard? - as her proxy.

[shyspider]

just returned to tumblr and saw that my favorite writer is not doing so well. i sure hope you're taking all the time you need to recover from whatever is happening in your life. it's okay not to be okay, but please take care of yourself. much love

This is beyond sweet - I legit teared up when I found this in my inbox this morning.

I never expected such support from others on here. I really am genuinely grateful. "It's okay to not be okay" is something I needed to hear. I'm working on feeling better. Thank you. So very very much.

Much Love ❤️Especially to you

[orcelito]

It's a little funny. I spend so much time compartmentalizing that I convince myself I'm totally fine, of course, all the time.

But when I was filling out the questionnaire before my therapy appointment yesterday, it was like

.... OK yea maybe I have some problems

Also this one 😂😂😂

[vilelittlecritter]

Me: "I don't like people, I prefer being on my own and not talking"

People: "oh okay we'll leave you be then"

Me: "wait no PLEASE COME BACK I WANT LOVE-"