#from how hard i was sobbing ✨✨

[fella-lovin-fella]

do you ever cry so hard for so long that you actually exhaust yourself?

[peachysunrize]

Labyrinth ⥃ Aemond Targaryen

Summary: falling in love is easy for most people, but not for Aemond Targaryen. How can a broken cold-hearted man be able to love the most gentle human Westeros has ever seen?

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, very very gentle, angst angst angst angst!!!, humiliation, reader is Daemon & Laena’s oldest daughter, no description for reader (besides white hair) you can imagine her however you like, Aemond is a vulnerable & insecure baby girl, like he is really really insecure, mentions of murder, fluff, nightmares, chronic pain, mentions of Aemond’s injury, anxiety attack, babes are in looooove, English isn’t my first language<3 it’s very heavily plotted and the smut is at the end of the story.

Word count: 11.5k (she's so long but worth it)

a/n: I’ve always wanted to write something with this kind of trope, especially when it’s from the man’s pov, and there’re so little fics that get into the depths of Aemond’s pain and suffering so I needed to try and write something that says his part of the story as well! Please please tell me your opinions and favorite lines of this piece! I’ve worked sooo hard for this fic and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did! Reblogs and comments are appreciated<3🩷

A very special thank you to my babies, @namelesslosers & @neptuneiris for beta-ing and supporting my ideas😭🫂✨

“Where is duty? Where is sacrifice?”

Aemond watches the scene unfold in front of him; his mother seeking justice for him, slashing Rhaenyra’s forearm with the dagger in her hand, spilling her blood in fury.

He looks around the room, finding you scared behind your grandfather, looking at him with wide teary eyes. He scowls when he sees how you look at him with pity, thinking he is a deformed monster in your eyes, to his best friend’s eyes.

You leave the hall in a rush, and he scoffs at how unbearable he must look for you to go in such haste, allowing this injustice to wreck his world and him to cope with the aftermath alone. How could you leave him like that? What happened to all the hours he helped you build that stupid sandcastle next to where Vhagar lays? Did you forget every moment, every laughter you had together?

He stands up and walks to his mother, telling her that Vhagar is worth it. But is it true? It might be worth gaining the largest dragon alive, but in the back of his mind, he thinks about how he has lost you.

No, you left him, he hasn’t done anything wrong. He is the one with his eye in a tray, he is the one who needs tending to for the first time, and you left him while he and his mother were humiliated by Rhaenyra and her bastards.

The morning comes sooner than expected, the milk of the poppy knocked him out immediately last night. He walks down the stairs where his family is gathering to leave, his mother holding Helaena’s hand while god knows where his father is, probably saying his goodbyes to his daughter and Princess Rhaenys. 

Aemond moves toward the hill that Vhagar is sleeping on, catching the sight of you waiting for him next to the sandcastles he helped you build yesterday after your mother’s funeral.

“What do you want?” he asks, standing in front of you, trying not to frown too much to loosen his stitches.

“I-I wanted to ask how you were doing…”

“After leaving me all alone? You were my friend! I needed you and you left me! And you ask how I am after I got my eye cut out?” He shouts at you, waking up Vhagar from her drowsy nap.

“I-I don’t have any excuses, but Aemond, please—” “No, I hate you! I hate your stupid hair, your eyes, your laugh, even-even your sandcastles! They are so childish and-and ugly!” “I know you are upset with me, and I’m so sorry for what happened to you, but please let me—” “No!” he yells at you again, marching toward the castle next to your feet before he stomps all over it, screaming and crying while he ruins the perfect sculpture he himself has made for you.

“Aemond…” the sob that wrecks through you makes him stop, but you are not looking at his feet, you are looking at his face, crying for him. He doesn’t spare a glance at you when he walks to climb Vhagar’s saddle, but guilt overwhelms his emotions and dread fills him.

You just wanted to talk, and he treated you so poorly even if his anger was justified.

Oblivious to him, as soon as he and his family were gone, you ran to your grandmother, crying in her arms and begging her to allow you to study with Maesters, in hopes that someday you may help your childhood friend with the pain he will carry for the rest of his life.

•••••••••••

Jacaerys’ name day, another pathetic excuse to have his sister and her pups in the capital under the same roof, drinking and wasting the crown’s money. He can’t blame them though, they’re desperate to get on the lords’ good sides by showing off their heritage, going with songs and praises for the heir after his mother.

Unnecessary, stupid… 

Aemond groans, running his hand over his face as he wakes up with the sounds of banging in the hallway. He knows that they’re arriving today, and he’s aware that the royal chambers should be ready when his sister makes a face, but to wake him up at such an early hour after the rough night he had should have severe consequences.

With another deep groan, he sits up on his bed, looking at the sea from between the sheer curtains of his room, watching the sunlight shine bright on the surface of the water, Sunfyre and Dreamfyre already taking turns in the sky over the city.

He stands up, looking down at the soaked undershirt he had on during sleep, exhaling deeply as he pulls the fabric off, slamming it down on the couch as he walks to the balcony to get some fresh air. The morning breeze hits his sweat-covered chest, stinging the empty socket of his eye.

He knows he should go back inside, to cover his scar and avoid pain from the cold wind, but the contrast of the coldness of it on his heated skin is soothing his mind, calming his beating heart. He will regret it during the day, but for now, after experiencing yet another nightmare, he needs to feel alive again.

As soon as the sharp pain starts from the depths of his skull, he moves back, shutting the door and pulling the curtains closed. He stands straight, his nails digging inside his palms as he controls, or tries to control his breathing. 

It always starts like this; a sting, then another one but sharper, then a minimal pain that surrounds his scar, and finally, the stabbing pain all over his face followed by the worst headache someone can ever endure.

He reaches for the nearest surface he can lean on, knuckles turning white as he keeps his weight up, trying not to fall on his knees just yet.

He can do it, he has done it countless times.

Aemond steadies himself on his feet before he sighs shakily, walking towards the clothes his mother’s servants laid down for him yesterday. It is a simple outfit; a leather tunic with black pants and a fresh beige undershirt. Nothing too fancy, and nothing less regal that a prince should wear.

He takes his time while getting ready, allowing the phantom pain of his eye to fade away slowly. Before he can button up his tunic, his chamber servants come running in, putting a bowl of water with a warm towel on the side desk while they prepare his breakfast. He covers the left side of his face with his hand so as to not scare them with the unbearable sight of the empty space in his face.

He watches them with a sleepy gaze as they clear the room, slamming the door behind them. Aemond sits in front of his mirror, taking the brush in his hand to untangle his unruly hair.

There are no thoughts in his head as he stares blankly at his reflection; he hates his scar with a passion that could set the realm on fire. There is no gentleness in his features, everything is sharp, angular, and rough. There is no trace left of the boy he was before his nephew took out his eye.

Doomed before he could even try to become someone worthy.

He ties his hair, revealing more of the healed wound and the dark empty socket on his face. Sometimes he gets stuck inside the labyrinth of his head, running and running until he reaches the middle, but it’s never enough. At the end of the maze, someone drops dead; whether he kills them or they kill him. There is no escape from these dreams, from these self-destructive thoughts that haunt him day and night.

He reaches for a box on the vanity, pulling out the sapphire gem before reaching for an ointment Maester has given him to help the gem fill his eye socket without pain.

He looks at himself again; he looks less like a brute, the gem adds to his beauty but in his mind, it’s not enough, it’ll never be. He sees his brothers, healthy and handsome, being subjected to women’s attention all the time, and sometimes he wishes desperately to be in their place, to be able to talk to a lady without frightening her. But he has learned that a maimed man is less worthy than a whore in Streets of Silk, so he exercises and trains daily to become worthy again, to live up to his Targaryen name. There are deep yet little scars adorning all over the skin of his hands and arms — a reminder of how he has become the man he is.

He eats his breakfast in silence, tension rising in his shoulders as the smoke of the candles on his desk reaches his eye. He drops his spoon on the table, blowing the candles out before he reaches for his eyepatch.

He has told everyone that there shouldn’t be any scented candles in his rooms, but as it seems no one ever pays attention to what he has to say, not even to help with the pain of his eye.

He stands up, knocking a few plates on the table to the floor, smearing fresh fruits on his carpet. A deep groan rumbles through his chest, but he can’t care less about anything other than the fact that he needs to join his family in the throne room — and he does after he grabs his dagger and secures it in his belt.

“Ser,” Aemond nods at his appointed guard, earning a ‘good morning, my prince’ from him. Aemond walks down the stairs with his head held high, scoffing at the servants who make a path for him hurriedly, trying to avoid being seen by him or see him.

The bustling of the castle is irritating; everyone is running from one corner to another and decorating the keep for their princess’ arrival. He is not annoyed that he has to reunite with his sister and nephews, but because he has to endure their presence for longer than necessary, to look them in the eye and act civil as if the pain he copes with already isn’t enough torment from them.

He nods at Ser Cole, who follows him into the crowded hall, eying everyone who is waiting for the Realm’s delight. Aegon and Helaena are standing side by side, his sister is clutching Aegon’s arm tightly as the crowd makes her feel small under its gaze. His mother looks at the throne silently, and he can see the hesitation in her eyes — how are they going to go through these weeks of celebration, they have no idea.

“Good morrow, Mother,” he whispers as he stands behind her, his eye softening at the small smile she gives him, “you look radiant this morning.”

“Hush you, sweet talker,” she chuckles lowly, rubbing his arms lovingly, “have you heard about the Velaryons’ arrival?”

“Lord Corlys is coming as well?” he asks, shifting on his feet nervously, his fingers tightening slightly on Alicent’s elbows, “I did not know…” “Neither did I, darling. They shall arrive at the same time as Rhaenyra, at least I know Daemon’s eldest will.”

“Driving on dragonback, obviously,” he mutters, sighing shakily. 

Alicent notices his hesitancy, she gently cups his cheek, forcing him to look her in the eyes, “Do not project your anger on her, she was but a child.”

“Yet she kept silent that night. She was supposed to be my friend,” he says, looking away from his mother, lowering his head in shame, beating himself for letting his emotions take hold of him.

“Give your courtesy and leave if you wish not to talk to her,” Alicent smiles sadly at Aemond, patting his cheek before they both look at the doors of the hall.

Something in his guts drops when he sees Rhaenyra entering, her family walking towards them, all smiling and laughing as if they aren’t going to experience the most dreadful weeks of their lives. 

“Your grace,” Rhaenyra says, trying to break the visible tension between the families. The crowd goes silent, and the only thing they can hear is the soft exhales of the people close to them, everyone waiting with bated breath to see what happens in a few seconds.

“Princess,” Alicent smiles, “welcome back to your home,” she replies politely, giving Daemon a half courtesy before she congratulates Jacaerys for his eight-and-ten name day.

“Aegon…”

Aemond looks away from his sister as she acknowledges them all, instead his eye finds Daemon’s who is staring back at him with a smirk on his face. Aemond’s gaze doesn’t waver, and Daemon chuckles at that, giving him a challenging look.

He looks back at Rhaenyra who says his name, giving him a forced smile before she turns around quickly and asks for the King.

“He is quite unwell, he shall join us in the evening,” Alicent explains, telling the maids to make haste and set the garden ready to start the celebrations; nothing too fancy for the noon, a tea gathering in the garden to reunite everyone, or at least to make sure the court has something to gossip about.

Aemond follows them slowly, taking time to observe each and every one of them. He can’t shake the uneasy feeling that settles in his chest as his eye finds Lucerys Velaryon, laughing and looping his arm with Rhaena. He looks away immediately, lips forming into a sneer as he walks with his hands behind him, grinding his teeth while he thinks about how he was robbed of everything good because of that bastard, because of the hideous scar he gave him.

The garden is filled with new bushes; roses, lilacs, daisies, and surprisingly winter roses. The sight would have been quite beautiful if all this fuss wasn’t for his nephew. He walks away from the crowd, making his way toward his siblings who are trying to appeal content with the events. Helaena is in her own world, lifting a worm from the ground as she counts its feet. Aegon is gulping down his wine while he listens to Daeron telling him about whatever book he has read these past few days, or at least he seems like he is paying attention.

Aemond sighs, grabbing a goblet of wine himself to nurse on it as he tries to distract himself from the chilly wind that hits his face. Luckily the eyepatch covers his eye socket fully and doesn’t let the cold breeze hit his scar, but the tension in his bones has remained from the morning rush of pain he experienced earlier. It’d be best if he left this pointless gathering earlier anyway.

“How are you faring this beautiful morning, brother?” Aegon asks him, grinning sarcastically. Daeron groans in response, even though the question wasn’t meant for him. Everyone can tell he is fed up with Aegon’s constant teasing of Rhaenyra’s family coming back to Red Keep.  

“Well enough to know I will be leaving in a few minutes,” Aemond replies, sipping on his wine as he catches Luke stealing glances at him. Pathetic, he is too scared to even look at him properly, he is glad though, it gives him a sense of comfort to know the mark he has left on his face scares him enough to keep him away from him.

“Can’t do that! It’d be rude if you left without saying hi to our favorite Velaryons.” Aegon smirks, tipping his head back as he laughs at Aemond’s sneer.

“As much as I hate to say this, but the idiot is right; you can’t give them more reasons to resent us,” Daeron says, looking at his older brother with kind eyes, “besides, they are here anyway.” he points at the passageway leading to the garden, catching the sight of Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys walking side by side toward the crowd.

Aemond’s heart stops for a second when his good eye lays upon you, following your grandparents with a gentle smile grazing your lips. You are a sight to behold; silver hair falling around your shoulders like curtains of moonlight that shine bright like a diamond beneath the morning rays of sunshine. Your gown the bluest of blue that shows your devotion to your mother’s house, and your lips painted pink in the most alluring way… 

Aemond’s eye sees a sight his mind can not comprehend, too unreal and beautiful that makes him doubt if he is seeing you with his sapphire eye through the patch.

His face is blank, but his heart is beating so fast he can hear his pulse in his ears. His eye follows you, watching you bow before his mother and sister, looking away immediately to find your sisters already giddy to hug you. Rhaena is the first to run to you, wrapping her arms around you while Baela approaches you slowly, letting her twin have her moment with you.

He doesn’t move from his spot, he can’t move even if he wants to; he’s struck between shock and something he can’t pinpoint; he can only say for sure that he hopes it’s a rush of adrenaline of not seeing you for so long.

The only time he looks away from you is when Daeron pats his back and encourages him to join everyone to say hello and welcome your family to the Keep. He doesn’t need to say a word, just a nod at both Corlys and Rhaenys is enough, but when you turn around to greet him and his siblings, his breath gets stuck in his lungs. 

You look at him from beneath your lashes, beaming so radiantly at him that he almost forgets the pain in his eye or the pain he has caused you the last time he saw you. The world around him fades away, the noises become distance as his sky-blue eye finds yours easily, and he has to swallow sharply while he desperately tries to keep his face stoic and serious and not show you how he is panicking from inside, palms sweaty and lips drying while he gazes at you, his childhood friend who… suddenly the bubble around you breaks and he remembers how you abandoned him that night at Driftmark.

“My lady,” he says in a hushed tone, watching your reaction closely.

“My prince, it’s so good to see you again,” you grin at him, “I hope you are doing well.”

“As well as a half-blinded man can do,” averting his eye from you, he regrets the words he said immediately, flushing a bit in embarrassment, but when he looks back at you, your smile hasn’t left your face, if anything you look at him with empathy and much kindness that he has a hard time believing you are real; it’s been too long since anyone has looked at him with such sincerity.

“Darling,” Daemon steps closer to them, ruining the moment for Aemond to say something, anything to take back what he said earlier.

He watches your smile wavering a little when you look at your father, hands fidgeting with the skirt of your dress. He notices how you try to ignore your father and Rhaenyra as they approach you, a tense smile on his sister’s lips while she tightens her grip on her husband’s arm.

“We have missed you, the girls, and I,” Daemon says, reaching to caress your hair as gently as the Rogue prince can, “you did not visit us at Dragonstone.” “I don’t like it there, the castle unnerves me,” You reply softly, “I rather enjoy the silence of grandsire’s castle.” “You are a Targaryen, you should visit your ancestor’s sit,” Rhaenyra tries her best to persuade you to think about coming back with them, leaving your lovely grandparents alone.

“I’m a Velaryon just as much as I’m a Targaryen, but ‘tis not a matter we should discuss at such a joyous day, don’t you think, princess?” you say, and Aemond sees it in your eyes how desperately you wish for the conversation to end. Aemond watches his sister’s words falter, her confidence crumbling with each word that you utter. Your statement is not rude, not even filled with malicious intent, but the mention of your Mother’s side of the family makes the Targaryen couple uncomfortable.

“I would have loved to stay and talk with you, Father, but I’m afraid the journey on dragonback has left me starving. Please, excuse me,” you nod at them before walking past them to the corner where Aemond and his siblings were sitting minutes ago, reaching for a glass of wine to gulp down.

Aemond doesn’t spare a glance at the couple, following you closely so he can sit in silence and out of the sun, truly not wishing for another fit of agony that consumes his skull.

“You have grown, Aemond,” you sit beside him, turning your head to look at his side profile, “no longer the child who used to build sandcastles with me when I would visit the Keep.”

“Yes, no longer a child with friends. Spending years apart without any contact, surely you are not that surprised how I have turned out to be,” he scoffs at your words, frowning when he turns around and finds you chuckling gently, “Did I jest about something I’m not aware of?”

“No, no, I just remembered how we promised to never let anyone break us apart, but you were the first who did so; you stomped your feet on my sandcastles the morning after my Mother’s funeral. You are right though, no ravens were exchanged, but I do hope you’re still the sweet prince who helped me study.” your lips twist into a small smile.

You are not angry with him, how can you not be angry with him? You had spent hours after they freed your Mother’s soul into the sea to find the perfect place to build your sandcastles and he ruined them the morning he was about to leave.

Your teary eyes have haunted him from that moment to this day.

“I apologize, I did not wish to remind you of that night,”

“I’m reminded every time I look into a mirror, do not concern yourself.” his reply is curt as he gazes at you, your eyes full of sadness and sympathy for a man you no longer know. Or maybe you know him too much, he thinks.

“I look forward to spending time with you, my prince. I hope we can catch up on each other's lives.” “Perhaps we can,” he sounds unsure of himself, Getting to know you again while you have turned into a woman grown — the most beautiful woman he has ever seen at that — is going to be a challenge he does not know he welcomes or fears greatly.

•••••••••••

He leaves sooner than he should, hiding in his room with a warm towel on his face as he soothes the pain of his eye, the headache he had since morning finally fading away. There are so many thoughts lingering in his head, and ironically, they are all filled by you; your gown, bright smile, and gentle personality.

He groans, so frustrated that he has met you a few hours prior yet you have consumed his every thought. If he focuses hard enough, he can see the labyrinth of his nightmares, the hedges are covered in ivy, suffocating as they reach for air — he thinks of him as the hedge, and how easily he has let you wrap yourself around his thoughts this quickly.

Weak, he thinks to himself, he’s weak.

He sits up, dropping the towel in the bowl on his nightstand, breathing deeply as he looks around his dark room, spotting a lit candle on his desk in the corner.

Sometimes it baffles him how his room represents his inner self so openly; it’s not messy, no, but if you squint you can see the abandoned book in the foot of his chair, ink dripping from his pot on the carpet, the candle illuminating the trail of black paint on his desk. It seems as if his room is showing the ugly part of itself to his eye, and for a second he thinks about how he sees himself — an ugly monster with an unsightly scar.

Aemond leaves his room a few minutes after fixing his eyepatch and hair, walking to the king’s solar to join his family for dinner. He walks with his hands clasped together behind him, looking straight to avoid eye contact with anyone who sees him on his way up the stairs. He doesn't expect to see you of all people, heading out of your room to take the same path as him.

“Aemond!” You say his name with such enthusiasm that has his heart racing again, beaming at him as if you are excited to see him. How could you be this giddy to meet him? No one has expressed to be happy to spend time with him, let alone smile at him the way you do. Is this an act of modesty? It has to be, he thinks, or else it does not make sense at all.

“My lady,” he bows his head politely, “How come you are late for such an interesting gathering?”

You giggle a little, walking side by side with him, “I was spending some time with Helaena’s children. Oh, they are such sweet babes!”

“Indeed they are,” he replies quietly, watching you curiously as you round him to stand on his good side, “what are you doing, My Lady?”

“I did not realize I was on your blind side, Aemond, forgive me,” “There is nothing to forgive,” he sucks in a harsh breath, pondering over your response for the rest of the way til King’s solar. The silence is oddly comfortable even though he gets a bit nervous when you keep glancing at him. 

There’s an unusual warmth spreading through his chest, he can’t understand it — it can be his heart since it’s beating too hard and fast, or perhaps even his lungs! He can’t even breathe properly, but at the same time, he feels… right, much better than before. He blames you for the conflicted emotions, it’s all your doings, he is sure. Because whenever he looks at you, he feels as if his clothes are suffocating him, his ears ring while the world fades around him, and the center of his world becomes you.

Weak, worthless, he has just met you, yet all these years apart seem blurry to him, as if he has known you since the age of the Firstmen; so familiar and comforting, even though you left him alone the night he needed you the most.

The guards open the door to the solar, and Aemond follows you inside, his eye wandering all over the room, taking his surroundings in. His mother and Rhaenyra are sitting at the table, his nephews are standing on their mother’s side while Aegon is trying to listen to whatever lecture Otto is giving him.

He watches you walk to your sisters, wrapping your arms around Baela and Rhaena as they both start talking to you about the things they have done during the past years you’ve been Lord Corlys’ ward in Driftmark.

“You’re staring,” Daeron says out of nowhere, pulling Aemond out of his thoughts but he doesn’t look away, he keeps his eye trailing on you until you turn around and catch his eye as well, smiling broadly at him.

“I am merely observing,” he replies, but knows his brother is right. It’s only the first dinner but he can already feel his eye itching to be on you again.

“Whatever makes you happy,” Daeron shrugs, leading him to Aegon and Helaena to sit down.

He finds an empty seat next to him, thinking Daeron is the one who’d sit beside him, but when he sees it’s you who reaches for the chair, his heart leaps to his throat before he composes himself quickly, pulling it out like the prince he is.

You give a smile that is worth countless gold dragons, and for the second time today, he questions if the sapphire is a magical eye, because the world turns a bit brighter and less dull when he looks at you. He sits next to you, his eyebrows twisting into a deep frown when he sees Lucerys at the other side of the table engaged in a deep conversation with Rhaena, playing the role of the happy family quite well.

Everyone stands up when the guards bring in the King, everyone except for Helaena but neither she nor Aemond pays any attention to others. One is busy playing with her hairpin, and he is busy admiring your ethereal face as you kiss the king, your uncle’s cheek, thanking him for having you and your grandparents in his home after so many years. As soon as Viserys sits behind the table, you take your place next to him again, giving him a small smile before you turn your head to listen to what his father has to say. 

He knows what his father is about to say; first, he thanks them all for coming, paying special attention to his grandsons and Rhaenyra while he lies over and over again about how much he loves them all, how they should never let the House of the Dragon fall into ruins, oblivious to the fact that not Rhaenyra nor Alicent were the ones who broke the family into different agendas, but it was him who started the flame.

Tonight, Aemond doesn’t look at his sister to attend to her. His eye is solely on you, taking in the shape of your lashes kissing your cheekbones, carving the silhouette of your nose and lips in his memories. He looks at the way your lips curve into a grin, cheeks forming into the most beautiful shape he has ever witnessed.

You turn your head a little to glance at him, catching him red-handed while he tries to play it cool, but he finds that he is not powerful enough to look away from your blown-out pupils and the orange hue that’s cast on your irises softly.

He breaks the eye contact, a scowl forming on his face as he reaches for his goblet of wine, nearly throwing the goblet across the table when he hears Lucerys laughing at the two of you.

You beat him to it before he could open his mouth, “Is there something funny, Prince Lucerys?” your voice is so soft and slow, almost humiliatingly sweet, and funnily, it terrifies Luke. 

Aemond smirks as he watches his nephew stuttering over his words while everyone around the table sits in uncomfortable silence, waiting for the young prince to say something, anything.

“I was surprised by how fast Uncle Aemond took a liking to you, given his looks and all,”  he explains, sarcasm dripping like honey from each of his words.

Fucking bastard, Aemond thinks to himself as an ugly sneer sits on his face. As much as he wants to leap toward him and cut off his tongue, he can’t — not when you put your hand on his over the hilt of his dagger.

Your skin is so smooth atop his calloused one. The way your fingers wrap around his wrist sets his body on fire, burning the skin in a way unknown to any man, but this is no ordinary burn; there’s no trace of fire, no long-forgotten ashes of his bones are visible, instead his fingers twitch for more, begging for more skin to skin contact, but he pulls his hand away from you without looking away from Luke’s blushing face.

“Your words are mean for no reason, Lucerys, given how it’s been your doing that has caused Aemond his scar,” you say, “I find him quite handsome actually. He was my beloved friend when we were younger. There are, of course, many feelings between us. Nothing has happened out of the blue for you to mock him for.”

“I-I apologize, good sister, I wasn’t…”

“It is not me who you should apologize to, it’s Aemond. I have taken no offense on my behalf but I do believe you owe him an apology.” You explain, sipping from your glass slowly while keeping your eyes on Lucerys.

No one, not even the King has the strength to intrude into the situation, maybe in doubt of saying something to hurt you, or perhaps you’re just speaking the truth, and for once, everyone fears your gentle mannerisms.

“I apologize, uncle,” 

Aemond’s stare is blank as he looks at Luke who’s chewing the inside of his cheek in embarrassment. He nods, not bothering to reply to him; he will never forgive nor forget what he has done to him, crushing his hopes and ruining his worth for a lifetime.

“Let us put our differences aside, and become a family again,” the king says, coughing before he reaches to drink from his cup. 

The dinner goes smoothly from there and to Aemond’s surprise, he engages in more conversations with you. He does not talk too much, he’d rather listen to your giggles and stories rather than talk about his boring and miserable life.

His eye always lingers on you for far longer than it should, not in an inappropriate way, but more in a sense of intrigue and curiosity, trying to understand you from his perspective. He simply can’t though; you are worlds apart. He is a cold-hearted, broken, and worthless man when it comes to your bright and beautiful personality. Even if he gets to know you again after so many years, he would never think himself worthy enough to be in your presence.

“Aemond…?” you call his name oh so sweetly, making him feel as if he is on top of Vhagar, flying atop the city while the wind blows in his hair; it makes him feel alive.

“Yes, My Lady?”

“Are you alright? You look quite flushed,” You smile sweetly, reaching to put the back of your hand on his cheek, flustering him even more than he already is.

“Yes, yes, I might have had too much wine,” he doesn’t know who he is trying to convince; you or him? By the sound of it, it’s him who needs to be convinced that it’s the wine in his blood and not the same unknown feeling he gets when you look at him. No, it is definitely the wine. It has to be.

“Oh, well then, I wish to spend more time with you if you are not against it,”

“Why would I be?” he asks almost too quickly, making you chuckle at his… enthusiasm. If he can even call it that.

“Then I’d be overjoyed if we could rebound what we had as children.”

•••••••••••

After the dinner, something between you and Aemond shifted; he spent more time outside his room, he was calmer and less serious, and the pain in his skull was almost gone. You joined him in the library a few times in the next few days, meeting each other at your door to attend the meals side by side, and almost everyone could feel how he was changing the longer he had you close, almost turning into the little boy he once was.

Both of you forget your last interactions as an act of mercy for the other.

With your insistence, he agreed to miss the tourney being held for Jace’s nameday to sneak out of the castle and take you to the beach. He did not need much convincing, but when you gave him those doe eyes with a little pout on your lips, he felt weaker than he ever did and gave in immediately.

Aemond helps you down the rocks near the shoreline with your small hands in his, taking cautious steps down to not trip over and hurt yourself. He keeps his eye on your feet instead of his, worrying more about you than himself even though he is stepping down with his good eye on you, not looking where he is going.

That seems to be a bad decision, because the next second, not only does his foot miss a small rock, but yours slips on one too, tumbling into his arms as the two of you fall on the soft sand, Aemond’s arms wrapping tightly around your back to keep you steady.

He looks at you, panting as his eye widens at the closeness; your faces are inches away from each other, and he can feel your soft rushed exhales on his lips. You look like a goddess atop him, the sun illuminating your silver hair, reminding him of the last sennight when you arrived and your hair made your face shine even brighter.

He has never seen such a beauty before, sure he has seen the ladies of the court, but your Valyrian beauty combined with sunlight and the blue hue of the sky has him mesmerized, not realizing how his hands are gripping your waist while he stares at you.

You giggle at first, then break into a fit of laughter while you lean more into him, dropping your forehead on his shoulder as you laugh wholeheartedly.

He chuckles lowly at first, then matches your laughter and throws his head back, holding you on him by one arm while the other comes to run over his face. 

“I have never heard you laugh so freely before,” you say after you have calmed down, putting your palms on either side of his face while you hover over him.

“I don’t remember having a reason to do so,” he replies, smiling up at you.

“I’m glad that I’m able to bring joy to your life, you deserve it.” leaning down, you press a gentle kiss on his cheek before standing up, smoothing down your skirt.

He is at loss of words, speechless to his core. He deserves it, he thinks, do you truly think a monster like him deserves any chance of happiness?  How are you not disgusted by him, his scar, his sour and mean tongue? How can you ever leave a butterfly kiss on someone as unworthy as him? 

He looks at you from where he is staying lying on the sand, watching as you extend your hand to him, rocking on your heels in anticipation so you can go and wander on the beach and reunite with the sea.

He grabs your hand, standing up on his feet as well. There is sand in both of your clothes, but you have just begun your venture and won’t stop until you are satisfied.

You don’t let go of his hand when you start jogging, pulling him with you as you giggle in delight. And he observes you as he always does; wind in your hair, waves crashing against the shore while your laughter fills the air around him. He doesn’t realize his smile has widened and he is following you just as excited, letting the sand and the sea separate you from the outer world.

“You promised you would make a sandcastle for me!” you say, pulling him behind you to the spot where you would sneak away as children, sitting down to get to work.

“I did not,” he replies, unbuttoning his tunic so he can stay under the sun without being bothered by the heat.

“Fine, you did not. But you ruined the one we built together at Driftmark so you owe me one!”

He chuckles at you, his dimples on display as he shakes his head, “Alright, I will make one for you.”

It took you a good few hours to finish the sandcastle; it could have finished much sooner if you hadn’t thrown wet sand at him, cleaning your dirty hands with his white cotton undershirt just to annoy him — and it worked. In a second, he was chasing you around the beach with hands full of wet sand curved into balls, throwing them at you.

And here you are now, fingers laced together, shoes in one hand as you both walk on the shoreline, letting the waves cool your feet. You point at the sunset, leaning on his side when you come to a stop to watch the sky change color as the sun goes down.

Aemond on the other hand, looks at your calm face that is glowing under the pink and orange sunlight. How did he get so lucky to be blessed by such a beauty to lay his eye upon? Maybe he truly deserves this unknown feeling that spreads through him like fire and makes his fingers tingle and his heart beat in happiness. Maybe he deserves to be loved by you and love you unconditionally in return.

You turn around, dropping your shoes before you reach up to cup his cheeks. He closes his eye and basks in the attention you give him; so unique and pure. He drops his boots as well, arms circling your waist to pull you closer.

Aemond doesn’t dare to open his eye, fearing that he might ruin this perfect moment as you trace the lines of his lips, his cheekbones, and his jaw. You are so gentle with him, something he is not quite used to. It has always been him, alone in a cold room, but now and here with you, he feels as if he can breathe again, and forget every pain he has endured to reach this moment of his life.

“Open your eye, My Prince,” you whisper before you peck the corner of his lips, pulling him in so you can rest your forehead on his.

He obligates, sighing shakily when he finds you already looking at him. Your gaze is so genuine that somehow scares him, a rush of destructive thoughts comes into his head, but you seem to notice it from how his hands shake on your waist.

“Don’t think about anything, just… just focus on me.” 

He does as you say, his brain shutting those annoying voices at the back of his head down as soon as your nose brushes against his, your soft lips brushing over his so endearingly. He is hesitant at first but when you peck him again, he moves forward as well, meeting you halfway until his lips are locked with yours.

You taste as sweet as the strawberry cakes you had this morning, if not sweeter. The way your lips move together makes his head hazy. You are kissing his breath away, leaving him begging for more. His chest moves up and down quickly when you break the kiss, and you caress his thin swollen lips, bruised by your kisses and lack of air, while he admires you from head to toe.

The sun has set, but the glimmer of love has risen inside of Aemond’s broken heart.

•••••••••••

A kiss here and there, more sneaking around the castle and to the beach until the main event for Jace’s birthday arrives. He is in his mother’s solar, listening to her talk about how lovely you are and how much of a wonderful couple you would make with him if only you weren’t Daemon’s daughter.

“Mother—”

“You should dance with her tonight, my darling!” Alicent says, running her hands over his arms when he stands up and approaches her, “I have heard Daemon has plans of betrothing her. Obviously, he has yet to find someone suitable, but he is thinking about it.”

Aemond’s heart drops when Alicent says your father is looking for a suiter, fortunately, Alicent sees his surprise, shock, and fear. She reaches to cup his cheek, forcing him to maintain eye contact while she talks, “Don’t let her go if you truly wish to have her. I know that she would stand strong against her father and Rhaenyra, but she would need your support and love as well to feel brave enough to turn down a good match.”

“They would make her happier than I can ever do, Mother,” he replies, his voice breaking slightly. Losing you terrifies him, and he is aware that his mother can read him like an open book, shushing him while he inhales sharply.

“I have never seen her happier than I have with you, and I have never seen you this happy and lively, darling. Be selfish for once, choose your happiness this time.”

“How can I choose my happiness over her life?!” he asks harshly, frowning at his mother.

A knock interrupts Alicent before she can respond, and the guards open the door for you to step inside the queen’s room.

“Oh, I apologize, it was not my intention to interrupt you.”

Aemond seems to be struck by your beauty; your body is wrapped in a teal-colored gown with a low neckline that leaves your shoulders and collarbones on display. Your silver hair is braided with some parts of it pinned up, some strands framing your bare neck.

“You look so beautiful, my darling,” Alicent says, nudging Aemond a bit forward when she sees how he is looking at you.

“Thank you, my queen. You look very beautiful as well,” you look away from the queen, smiling when he approaches you slowly, “you said you were going to wear something close to this color and I decided it would look quite good to match. How do I look?”

“Enchanting,” he breathes out, reaching to hold your hand, pressing a gentle kiss on your knuckles, “You look breathtaking, My Lady.”

“So do you, My Prince.”

“Shall we then?” he offers you his arm and you accept without hesitation, looking back to see if the queen will come with you and she assures you she will come with the King.

“You said you were going to retrieve me from my chambers for the party,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder as the two of you walk toward the great hall.

“I am deeply sorry. Mother wanted to have a word with me,” he explains, dropping a quick kiss on the crown of your head.

“Is everything alright, Aemond?” you ask him, and he chuckles at how adorably your brows twist into a frown in worry. “Yes, darling, she merely wished to remind me to make sure you have a great time tonight. You are our special guest.”

“Does that mean you will dance with me?” you ask, holding his hands in yours before you reach the hall.

“We shall see,” he brings your hands to his lips again, leading you toward the hall, bowing and nodding at the ladies and lords who take it upon themselves to greet you.

You come to a stop in front of the table, Rhaena coming to hug you and twirl you around, gasping at the sight of your beautiful gown, gasping even louder when she sees how your dress matches Aemond’s tunic.

A ghost of a smile finds its way on Aemond’s face as he watches you get flustered at your sister’s attention to details, but soon, his eye hardens when he finds his uncle glaring at the two of you. Tonight will change the course of so many lives.

He watches you laugh with your sisters, pointing at the empty chair next to you so he would sit close by all night. With one last glare at his uncle, he walks to his seat and pours wine into his cup, blushing a bit when he hears you laughing again. You are not even laughing at something he has said and he is the one who gets flushed.

He is knee-deep inside these new feelings but he welcomes the challenge with open arms. Or at least he tries to do so without Daemon being an obstacle to his plans. 

He looks at you when Rhanea and Helaena pull you to the dancefloor for the new song, pairing up with different lords to dance with, but what catches his eye, isn’t who you are dancing with, but more than who Daemon is talking to. He recognizes the lord to be from the south, probably a Tyrell, and when his uncle and the lord look in your direction, he knows something is not right, an uneasy feeling settling deep in his stomach.

He watches the lord closely as he makes his way through the crowd to get to you, bowing and introducing himself before taking your hand to dance with you. He can see how uncomfortable he is making you, probably discussing his sick desire to have a wife and kids while he dances with a Targaryen-Valeryon goddess.

“Stop glaring and do something!” Baela slides into the seat next to him, hissing the words at him while she keeps her eyes fixed on you as well, “I don’t like you, I will never like you, but you make her happy. Do something before our father ruins her life because of Rhaenyra.” “I thought you liked your stepmother,” Aemond chooses to ignore most of the things she said.

“It’s Rhaenyra’s schemes, please, Aemond, my sister deserves to feel appreciated. I have never seen any lord take an interest in her the way you have. You are the only thing she could talk about in the last few days. I will beg you if I have to.” Aemond turns his head toward Baela, letting her words calm down the hesitancy he has toward courting you. There are far more handsome men than him in the court, yet, he is the one who is blessed to hold you and kiss you, to gaze into your eyes and see forever in them.

He hisses when he feels a sting in his skull, not now, no. The pain can’t start now. He gulps his wine before he nods at Bela and stands up to walk to the crowd in the middle of the hall, catching your eyes for a second before he has to bow and start the dance with a lady he does not care to engage in a conversation with.

He thinks about how much he has changed in a few days; there will always be a part of him who thinks he’s not worthy of your affection, that you can do better than him, but also the thought of you in another man’s arms sets his skin ablaze. He is torn between keeping you all to himself or letting you have a wonderful future with another guy who can stand by your side and make you proud, who is not maimed and scarred like him.

Luckily, everyone needs to change their partner and he reaches with his hand to grab yours and pull you to his side, grinning when he hears your delighted shriek. “My Prince Aemond,” you say, squeezing his hand while the two of you twirl around the room.

 He doesn’t wish to say, but the tempo is too high for me, and it worries him that somehow he might make a fool of himself or you if he trips over someone’s shoe on his blindside.

“Lady Targaryen, you look like a Valyrian Goddess, my beloved.”

“Why thank you, my good prince. I have to say that this color truly brings out your beautiful eye,” you reply coyly, tipping your chin up while you bite your lip.

“You are playing with fire, darling.” he leans down to whisper in your ear, pressing a feather-like kiss on your earlobe without anyone noticing.

“I’m a Targaryen, Prince Aemond, fire is in my blood,”

“Is that so? Well, I must say—”

He doesn’t know what happens, or how it happens, but in a second he can’t see you when he twirls you around him, and suddenly, the weight of your waist isn’t in his hand anymore.

“Aemond!” you fall down by his feet, and he sees that his boots have caught the edge of your heels, making you twist your ankle in the wrong way and causing your fall.

What have I done?

What have I done?

I dropped her.

I did this.

What happened?

His eye has widened in fear, and he is frozen in place, hands shaking slightly as he feels the crowd around you look in your direction, staring and gaping at him before the hushed whispers start to fill the room.

“Aemond, look—”

He can’t look at you. He will never be able to live with himself for humiliating you in the way he did tonight.

Stupid, weak, useless good for nothing, Aemond. If another lord was dancing with her, he wouldn’t have dropped her. A prince but less worthy than a common whore. 

With trembling lips, and a pain blooming in his eyesocket, he dashes out of the room, leaving you on the floor. 

His vision is blurry, the pain is getting worse and the air is stuck in his lungs. He can’t breathe, no, he doesn’t deserve to breathe. How can he when all he wanted to do was to dance with you but ended up hurting you? How could he hurt you like this? 

He skips the steps, running to his room while he groans in pain, the stinging is getting stronger, the agony in his nerves is spreading through his skull and it only gets worse when he opens the door to his chambers to find not only scented candles but the windows and the balcony door is open as well.

“You are dismissed!” he shouts at the guard before he slams the door shut, “Ah!” He tumbles down, gripping the nearest chair to keep himself on his feet at least before he falls on his knees, clawing at the eyepatch to pull it off as if it’s burning his skin.

The pain is like a dagger, stabbing him over and over again until even his knees don’t have the strength to keep him up. He falls on the floor, curling into a ball while the pain spreads through his face, and he finally breaks down, bursting into tears from agony and humiliation. If only he wasn’t in pain… if only his eye wasn’t cut out…

Aemond doesn’t hear when the door opens, nor he can see who the person is. Tears have flooded his vision, but as soon as he feels your soft hand on his arms, trying to help him sit up, he flinches, backing away from you while he gasps for air, feeling his tunic clinging to his sweaty body. 

“Aemond, please let me—” “No, no, no, no…” he stands up hurriedly, walking to the balcony on unsteady legs to get some air in his lungs, only to be met by a freezing wind that makes the chronic pain in his eye even worse. He drops to his knees again, this time the sounds of his gasps and painful yelps are louder than before.

You rush to his side, kneeling in front of him to cup his cheeks, kissing his clammy forehead before you wipe his tears away gently. He lets you touch him this time, too exhausted to utter a word, to push you away even if he has to.

“It’s going to be okay, Aemond, let me help you,” You help him on his feet, making sure to have your arms wrapped tightly around him while he leans his weight on you, trusting you to take care of him, even though the voice in the back of his head is telling him to push you out of his room.

“Gently, my love, gently,” you help him lay down on the bed, pecking his cheek again, rising to get the smoke out of the room but his hands shot up and grabs your forearm tightly.

“Stay, please,” he whimpers, his beautiful eye tearing in pain.

“I will, my dearest, I just need to blow out the candles and close the windows, and I’ll be back in bed with you.” You reach and bring his hand to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss upon his knuckles before he lets you go.

He can’t see you clearly, but your shadow moves from side to side frantically, blowing the candles on the balcony so the smoke won’t get inside again, shutting the windows quickly so the cold wind doesn’t bother him anymore before you come to bed again.

You unlace your gown, taking it off so you can tend to him more easily, pulling at the few pins inside your head to let the strands fall freely around your shoulders. You climb onto the bed, a jar of his salve and ointment in hand with clean rags in your other as you sit comfortably next to him, helping him take off his tunic and pants.

Aemond lies on the pillow on your lap, sniffing as you look at his face; bare and raw of emotions with his sapphire glinting in the low lights of the room.

“My love, you need to help me pull the gem out,” you whisper, almost sound scared of him, or scared of what you might see.

“No, it is an unbecoming sight—”

“Nothing about you is unbecoming. You are the most beautiful man I have ever laid my eyes on, and for you and your suffering, I begged my grandma to allow me to study about your condition with the Maesters,” you lean to kiss the bridge of his nose, “the skin around your eyesocket is swollen, if we do not pull it out now, it shall make it more unbearable for you.”

He hesitates for a moment. While he would love to ask you about why you studied something so gruesome because of him, he can’t help but feel so wanted. The pain is getting worse, sure, he has to pull the gem out anyway but to hear you say how you have begged Rhaenys to let you partake in those classes, to maybe someday help him with his pain… that truly makes him feel fuzzy all over.

“Alright…” he whispers, gritting his teeth in pain as he reaches out with his fingers to grab the side of the gem, pulling it out slowly while he groans and the pain nearly knocks him out. “Shouldn’t we use something more—” “Take it out, take it out—I don’t care how!”

You nod, tears falling from your eyes as you watch him writhe in pain more as the two of you pull his sapphire out, leaving a heavily swollen and empty eyesocket on display. His hand falls limp on the bed while you drop the gem into a clean bowl before pouring some of the ointment on a rag, gently holding his face in one hand while the other daps slowly over the scar and his ripped eyelids, pressing a few kisses here and there to soothe his whimpering.

He clings to your arms and waist tightly, letting his tears fall freely while you soothe his pain away, falling into slumber easily beneath your gentle touch.

•••••••••••

He is running.

Where is he? Why is he running?

He looks around him, finding himself in the labyrinth he always sees in his dreams.

The hedges are covered in ivy, the walls have gotten taller and the paths are thinner.

What’s this smell?

He steps closer to the source of it, taking different routes until the smell gets worse and stronger. He knows where the center of the maze is, he has been here countless times.

He turns around, finding the space of the labyrinth of his dream, but he doesn’t expect to see you there, not while standing with your nightshift covered in maroon, hands dripping with thick droplets of blood as you look at him horrifyingly.

“Darling, are you alright?”

“Don’t- don’t come closer,” you say, taking a step away from him.

“I don’t understand, why—” “You did this to me!” screaming at him, your hands cover your heart, and he finally sees how your chest has been ripped open and blood gushes out of the wound.

“I was not here—”

“You did this to me! You hurt me, Aemond!”

“Aemond!”

“Aemond!”...

He jolts up, gasping for air, hands clutching the bedsheets as he experiences another nightmare. He looks at you, finding you awake and alarmed while you rub his back, eyes filled with worry and pain for him.

“You should leave,” his voice is barely above whispering, his nails digging into the palms of his hand while he blinks his tears away.

“Aemond—” “I will only hurt you, why don’t you understand?!” he asks, raising his voice a little. 

He is torn between needing you to wishing you were gone; he can’t cope if he ever hurts you again.

“You have not hurt me, you won’t hurt me.” “I killed you in my dream! You fell in front of everyone and twisted your ankle because of me, I humiliated you! How can you say I won’t fucking hurt you? I have already done it.” He explains, but instead of pushing you away, he welcomes you when you pull him down into your embrace, holding his head tightly in your neck as he sobs uncontrollably.

“It’s not your fault, I should have been more careful. I won’t let you ruin yourself for something that was a mistake on my behalf.” you kiss the side of his face, rocking him from side to side while he calms down eventually.

“Don’t push me away, I love you, Aemond. Let me be here and help you carry this heavy pain with you.”

He doesn’t reply, but his arms tighten around you.

He looks at how you lay back on the pillows, gently pulling him in your arms until he is lying in your chest while you play with his hair.

“Sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

•••••••••••

He opens his eye slowly when he feels someone caressing his hair, pressing butterfly kisses all over his face. Smiling a little, he finds you admiring him in his sleep, taking notes of every line and deep of his skin.

“It’s very rude to stare,” he says, his voice thick and raspy from all the crying he did last night.

“Not when he is my lover,” you whisper back, nuzzling your nose against his, “you look like a fairy when you sleep.”

“No one has ever told me that. How do you come up with such unique ways to describe me?” He leans over, pressing a kiss on your shoulder while he waits for you to answer.

“You are a wonderful muse for poetry, I shall start writing about your hair and eye!”

He keeps his lips sealed to your skin, sucking and nibbling until he is satisfied with the marks he has left. His pupil is blown out with a newfound lust; how can he not desire you when you are lying in his arms with your wild white hair plastered over his pillows?

“You are staring,” he chuckles at how breathless you sound. He hasn’t even begun to do anything and he already has you melting under his touch.

“Can you blame me? I have the most exquisite lady of the realm in my bed.”

“What happened to the insecure boy I held last night?” You ask while leaning up towards him, pushing him down on his back so you can straddle his narrow hips.

“It’s still here with us in this room, but he has begun to heal. You have helped him when he had no one,” his palms rest on your thighs.

“I need you,” it comes more as a plea, but Aemond obliges and flips the two of you over, hiding his face in your neck to prep it with kisses while he whispers that he needs you too.

“I love you, darling,” he whispers, craning his neck to catch your lips in a kiss, moving them together with a rhythm that encourages him to take the next step.

His hand inches downward, pushing past the fabric of your underwear to find you already wet for him.

“I-I have already lost my maidenhand…”

“I don’t care, I have you now,”

He silences your whine with another deep kiss, his fingers circling your clit until you are squirming and bucking your hips into his palm, your arms pulling him in by the shoulders.

He breaks the kiss, watching you take a deep breath when he pushes one digit inside while he tugs at the front of your shift, pulling it down until your tits are on display. He covers your chest with marks and bruises the same time another finger enters you, making you gasp loudly in pleasure.

He stretches you on his fingers, thrusting them in and out slowly at first, but soon he is speeding up, his patience running thin as he scissors you open not roughly to make it hurt, but to make sure you are ready to take him.

“A-Aemond, please, need you closer,”

He nods because he too can feel the need to become one with you, to take you as his, or more so you take him as yours.

His breeches are thrown on the floor, followed by his undershirt immediately as he takes home between your spread legs, one hand holding him up while the other guides his throbbing cock to your entrance. You both gasp in union when his tip nudges past your muscles, pushing in slowly and gently until he is sheathed inside you completely.

You throw your head back, wrapping your legs around his waist while your nails dig into his naked chest as he lets you get adjusted to his size.

“Can I move?” He asks, leaning down over you as he cages you beneath him, both of his forearms holding himself up against the pillow under your head.

You nod, looking at him with pleading eyes, and he finally caves in and moves slowly; pulling his hips back a little before driving in.

The next minutes pass by him gently making love to you, circling his hips and kissing you, bringing you closer and closer to your highest point. You know you both are close when his groans and moans grow louder, and your voice matches his tone as he quickenes his pace, the loud sounds of skin slapping against each other echoing in the chambers of the prince.

You both finish together; you with a gasp of his name, and him with a loud groan of yours as he fills you and you gush around him. He trembles above you, whether it is for the climax he experiences or the overwhelming love he holds for you. 

He watches your face twist in pleasure — the pleasure he is giving you — and he memorizes every sound, counting each lash that he can while he himself rides his high with you.

He drops face down on the bed next to you, both of you trying to catch your breath as you look at each other with a satisfied expression on your faces.

“They would ask about our whereabouts if we are late for breakfast.” You say, giggling when he groans in absolute disgust — he is not ready to leave this room and face the world again when he knows he can stay and take you again, thrive in your attention and love for all day.

“Must you ruin this moment for us? Now I can only think about how to face your father after what we did.”

“You should look him in the eye and ask for my hand,” you sit up, throwing the cover off of you before getting off the bed “and you shall do it with the braids I do for you,”

“You are impossible,” he says, but he knows that behind his words, there is no hidden intent, nothing but adoration and playfulness.

“Come, sit!” You pull him off the bed as well, leading him to his vanity before pushing him down on the chair, both of you stark naked as you brush his hair slowly.

He looks at himself in the mirror, and for the first time in years, his reflection doesn’t disgust him, it doesn’t scare him or make him self-conscious. He feels… beautiful, he feels worthy again of having this life, having you as his.

“Do you wish to know what I see when I look at you?” You ask him, letting his soft hair fall around his shoulders before you lean down, wrapping your arms around him, resting your chin on his shoulder.

He nods, hands coming to cover yours where they caress the skin above his heart.

“I see a broken man who needed to be saved. I see a boy, fierce and strong as he claims the largest dragon alive. I see my friend who danced with me in different gatherings, my beloved friend who built sandcastles with me and helped me with my Valyrian studies. I see my Aemond, finally freed from the labyrinth of his mind.”

[harrysfolklore]

plsss can you make a fake instagram where the reader is a lawyer

you know how to ball, i know aristotle - op81

i really liked how this one turned out ! we love sino oscar 🥰 make sure to leave your feedback

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

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yourinstagram greetings from the library 🧐 keeping an eye on my angel boy who started kindergarten (aka formula one) last month

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username1 serving cunt in the library we love to see it ♥︎ by author

username2 fellow columbia student right here 🙋‍♀️

↳ yourinstagram omgg we should hang out soon

username3 since when are you into f1 bestie

↳ yourinstagram since i’m dating one of the drivers 🤔

oscarfan1 THIS IS OSCAR’S GF??? SHES GORGEOUS ♥︎ by author, oscarpiastri

username4 i’ve been following for ages now but i just found out that she’s dating a famous athlete 😭

oscarfan2 i was ‪hoping that oscar was single but now that i found out that he has a beautiful AND smart gf i want them to adopt me

logansargeant I’ve been taking care of him in the playground, don’t worry

↳ yourinstagram i wouldn’t expect any less from you

↳ landonorris We haven’t met yet but I’m also taking care of little Oscah ♥︎ by author

↳ landofan1 OFC HE HAD TO COMMENT

↳ yourinstagram well thank you, little lando norris

mclaren When will we see you in papaya gear at a race? 🧡 Ps. The last picture is so real

↳ yourinstagram omg when college stops kicking my ass

↳ oscarfan1 i love her already

oscarpiastri I miss you so much, but I’m so happy to see you in your dream school, smart girl🤍 ♥︎ by author

↳ oscarfan2 IM SOBBING THIS IS SO SWEET

↳ yourinstagram i love you 🥺

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oscarpiastri The smile on my face could only mean one thing: It’s home race weekend 🇦🇺

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oscarfan1 BABYYYYY

oscarfan2 he looks so kissable

mclaren Australia’s National Treasure 🧡

oscarfan3 MANIFESTING A PODIUM SO HARD

logansargeant Good luck on your home race bro 🙌 ♥︎ by author

↳ oscarfan1 bestiesss

username1 i’m still waiting for his girlfriend’s paddock debuttt

alex_albon The superior papaya boy ♥︎ by author

↳ landofan1 LANDO WAS FOUND CRYING

↳ oscarfan1 i love them

landonorris I’m going to categorically ignore what alex albon just said

↳ landofan1 HES SOOOO😭

landonorris Don’t to fool your audience, your smile is because your girl is finally coming ♥︎ by author, yourinstagram

↳ landofan2 OMFGGGGGGGGG

↳ oscarfan2 OSCAR AND YN PADDOCK DEBUT CONFIRMED BY LANDOOOO

↳ oscarfan3 goddd i was praying for this

↳ yourinstagram but can you blame him? ♥︎ by author

↳ username2 I LOVE THIS RELATIONSHIP SM

yourinstagram i can’t wait to see you, squish 🥺 ♥︎ by author

↳ oscarfan1 SQUISH I COULD SOBBBB

↳ oscarfan2 they’re so adorable i can’t do this

↳ oscarpiastri ❤️❤️❤️

yourinstagram added to their stories

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, oscarpiastri and 47,836 others

yourinstagram took a break from law school to finally go to my first race 🕺 SO PROUD OF YOU @oscarpiastri

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username1 AWEEE your wag era finally

oscarfan1 QUEEN OF THE PADDOCK ♥︎ by author

carmenmmundt It was so lovely to meet you ✨ ♥︎ by author

↳ yourinstagram likewise beautiful carm 💓

↳ username2 i just want to be one of them

oscarfan2 thank you yn for giving us a weekend of blushy and smiley oscar and the best boyfriend content ever

oscarfan3 COME TO EVERY RACE PLEASEEE

↳ yourinstagram i would love to but i have to get my degree 🥲

mclaren You’re officially a papaya girl now 🧡

username2 they make the best couple ever bc she’s all brains and he’s all muscle ♥︎ by author

landonorris Go get that degree now, I need someone who can get me out of jail for free

↳ landofan1 WHY IS HE LIKE THIS 😭😭

↳ yourinstagram 🫡🫡🫡

username3 she’s stronger than me because is oscar piastri was my bf and i had the chance to travel around the world with him and look pretty u would drop out of college already

↳ yourinstagram just a few months till graduation i can do it okay

↳ oscarfan2 I LOVE HER

oscarpiastri Having you here made this weekend the best ever. I love you ❤️ ♥︎ by author

↳ oscarfan1 BOYFRIEND OSCAR I CANT

↳ username1 why can’t my boyfriend simp for me like this

↳ yourinstagram i loveeee youuuu

liked by charles_leclerc, yourinstagram and 654,386 others

oscarpiastri The perfect home race weekend 🇦🇺 I miss you already @yourinstagram 🤍

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oscarfan1 AWEEEEE

oscarfan2 MY HEART

georgerussell63 I need more of those grandma Piastri cookies ♥︎ by author

↳ danielricciardo Same

↳ username1 LET ME INNNN 😭

mclaren We love Australia 🦘🌏

oscarfan3 yn and oscar shouldn't be separated that's like a crime ♥︎ by yourinstagram

oscarfan4 THE THRID PIC MY HEARTTTT

landonorris Your girlfriend is cooler than you btw ♥︎ by yourinstagram

↳ landofan1 and teammate of the year award goes to lando norris

↳ logansargeant I agree

↳ username2 imagine the entire grid loving you

↳ oscarpiastri You're supposed to be my friend

↳ landonorris And she’s going to be my personal lawyer soon so

↳ yourinstagram 😭😭😭

yourinstagram i love you so much, angel. thank you for this weekend 🥺 ♥︎ by author

↳ username2 their relationship is the purest thing ever

liked by yourinstagram, georgerussell63 and 764,389 others

oscarpiastri Little mid season recharge. Visiting my favorite future lawyer 🤎

tagged: yourinstagram

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oscarfan1 AWEEEEEE

oscarfan2 we love softie oscarrrr

username1 oh to be a columbia student

landonorris My kids ❤️❤️

↳ landofan1 lando is the biggest shooter for this relationship

↳ yourinstagram you’re just two years older than me..

↳ landonorris And? You’re my kids

↳ oscarfan2 I LOVE THEMMMM

username2 yn’s curls are so prettyyyy omg ♥︎ by author

nicolepiastri Our smart girl ! 👩‍⚖️ ♥︎ by author, yourinstagram

↳ oscarfan1 aweee mama piastri

↳ yourinstagram love you 🥺

username3 imagine chilling in the library procrastinating some homework and you turn around and oscar piastri is there

yourinstagram i love you so much squish 🫶 ♥︎ by author

↳ oscarfan1 why are her pet names for him so damn adorable

liked by oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux and 49,635 others

yourinstagram i can’t believe it’s my last week here and i’m going to be a real lawyer soon 😳

view all 633 comments

username1 GRADUATION IS SOOOON OMG

username2 i’ve been following you since you graduated high school and posted tips about college applications and now you’re about to finish college omg ♥︎ by author

oscarfan1 OMG OSCAR MUST GO TO HER GRADUATION

lilymhe congratulations smart girl 🤍🤍 ♥︎ by author

↳ yourinstagram thank you lovely 🫶

oscarfan2 THE LAST PICTURE IM YELLING

username3 she has the coolest life ever

mclaren Everyone in the papaya department is super proud 🧡

↳ yourinstagram ilysm mclaren admin

logansargeant How come you’re still dating my friend, who barely finished high school 😂 congrats!

↳ yourinstagram he’s cuuuuute 🥺

↳ oscarfan1 oscar’s friends are always dragging him help

↳ landonorris And can’t win a GP

↳ oscarpiastri You surely got confident after Miami, Lando Onewin ♥︎ by author, georgerussell63, alex_albon

↳ landofan1 STOOOOOP😭

oscarpiastri I’m always proud and in awe of you, but specially now 🤍 ♥︎ by author

↳ oscarfan1 I LOVE SIMP OSCAR

liked by oscarfan1, oscarfan2 and 2,936 others

f1updates “My girlfriend graduating from Columbia Law School next week so as soon as the job is done here I’m heading to New York. I’m really proud of here and I wouldn’t miss this moment for anything else.” - Oscar Piastri for SKY Sports

view all 288 comments

oscarfan1 OMFG IM CRYING

oscarfan2 smile heart eyes and blush make an appearance again

oscarfan3 he’s super proud you can tell by his eyes

oscarfan4 flexing his lawyer girlfriend as he should

oscarfan5 SO HIGH SCHOOL IS ABOUT THEM

oscarfan6 my definition of a simp

yourinstagram has added to their story

liked by yourinstagram, landonorris and 865,388 others

oscarpiastri My girlfriend is a lawyer 💙

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oscarfan1 I LOVE THISSSSS

oscarfan2 WHAT IF I CRY

username1 that cake is too iconic i need it

georgerussell63 Congrats YN! ♥︎ yourinstagram

oscarfan3 the cake is that tiktok audio 😭😭

nicolepiastri We’re all so proud of you @yourinstagram 👩‍🎓🤍 ♥︎ by author, yourinstagram

↳ oscarfan1 mama piastri loves her they’re getting married

↳ yourinstagram love you! thank you for the unconditional support 🥺

charles_leclerc Well done 👏👏 ♥︎ by yourinstagram

lilymhe 💓💓💓 ♥︎ by yourinstagram

username2 imagine having a columbia degree AND a hot boyfriend i can’t relate

mclaren Our favorite lawyer 🧡 ♥︎ by author, yourinstagram

↳ oscarfan2 the mclaren intern just loves yn

oscarfan4 good time to remind everyone that oscar barely finished high school but he somehow bagged a lawyer girlfriend

landonorris Yooo congrats @yourinstagram I can speed while driving and pass red lights now that I have someone who can get me out or jail for free

↳ landofan1 LANDO PLEASE 😭

↳ yourinstagram please do not do that i beg you

landonorris You’re welcome for the cake idea btw

↳ oscarfan1 I KNEW oscar could never come up with that

↳ yourinstagram so it was you ! huh

↳ oscarpiastru Shhhh

yourinstagram i love you so much ❤️❤️ ♥︎ by author

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant and 69,736 others

yourinstagram you know how to ball, i know aristotle 🤍 proof that we’re both awkward for pictures

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username1 CUTIES

oscarfan1 I LOVE THEM SO MUCH 😭

oscarfan2 they really said 🧍‍♂️🧍‍♀️ ♥︎ by author

mclaren 🧡🧡 ♥︎ by author

oscarfan3 they match each other’s freak

alexandrasaintmleux ❤️ ♥︎ by author

username2 you look so cute together

nicolepiastri My babies 🥺 ♥︎ by author, oscarpiastri

landonorris Hug your girlfriend wtf @oscarpiastri

↳ landofan1 😭😭😭

↳ oscarpiastri Don’t tell me what to do thank you very much

oscarfan4 that lyric is literally THEM

username3 pretty, smart and a swiftie we love to see it

oscarpiastri I’m the trophy boyfriend 🤍 ♥︎ by author

↳ username1 ugh i need a man like him

↳ oscarfan1 exactly oscar know your place

[lvlyghost]

The Things I Never Said

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Summary: Simon had told you he never wanted to be a dad, so when the inevitable happens you run.

Word Count: 2.2k

Tw: angst, fluff, ooc simon(? descriptions of pregnancy and panic attacks, medical inaccuracies, slightly suggestive but nothing too explicit, this isn't proofread; i think that's it?✨

A/N: omg i couldn't stop thinking about this so i had to write it! I'm just feral for dad!simon loosely connected to this bc this is where the idea came from. Hope y'all enjoy it🫰🏻💛🦄

Masterlist✨| Part 2

You're shaking by the time you're out of the bathrooms. There's no doubt. You think with slight tremble on your lower lip. It almost feels aa of the world around you is closing in. Suffocating your lungs. Your vision blurs, when you toss the pregnancy test in the trash can.

This can't be happening. Not to you.

It's not that you didn't want to have kids.

But Simon didn't.

At this point you're sobbing uncontrollably, gasping for air. It's a good thing no one comes to this part late at night. The only moment you could find peace and solace. Sliding down the wall, hiding your face in your hands. How could you let this happen? You should've been more careful.

Your mind goes back to that day when neither of you cared about the consequences. Caught up in the moment, tearing each other's clothes; eager to be together. You hadn't seen Simon in two months when he was deployed to Serbia and you had to stay behind. Being both in the military meant knowing the risks. Every time could be the last time. You heard things about that specific mission. He got injured. You remember the gnawing fear clawing at your chest. And then there he was, knocking on your door as soon as they landed. His shoulder wrapped around bandages. He kissed you hard, desperately.

Hitting the mattress with you on top of him, not wanting to hurt him anymore. The sweet things he murmured in your ears, hands intertwined as you fall apart together.

You love him.

He cares for you.

But even if he felt slightly the same way about you, it wouldn't be enough.

Simon had... traumas. A tragic story of his own. You heard him talk about it late at night when he couldn't sleep. Those demons that plagued his mind, his dreams... and you listened. That's all you could do.

Offer a hand to the man that had saved you over and over again. And somewhere along the lines you fell.

And you fell hard.

Somewhere between dark nights and shared kisses at dawn.

-

You didn't get any sleep last night.

Your mind is still spinning with the anxiety. The morning sickness that started to disrupt as soon as you woke up. Red, puffy eyes that you try to dissimulate by washing your face hoping it goes away.

You get dressed feeling devastated, knowing that you'll have to face him as soon as you enter the training room. He's in charge. The mere thought makes you want to throw up. But you leave the bedroom nonetheless. Walking down the hallway feeling your hands sweating and your ragged breathing.

When you finally open the doors you're fifteen minutes late. That alone will earn you a punishment.

It's almost as if he feels your presence, immediately finding your form when you enter, his jaw tightens. Simon doesn't like this. But as long as you're under his command you get equal treatment or else, he'd be in problems. Both, would be in problems.

"Bit late Sergeant." He grumbles, emphasizing the last word staring directly in your eyes. Ghost is perceptive and is aware that something is wrong, but doesn't comment on it... yet. "Fifty push-ups. Start sparring when you're done."

You swallow down saliva, feeling your throat constrict.

Fuck, fuck. Don't cry. Not right now.

This whole situation has you sensitive.

You start, concentrating on doing the push-ups. Hearing the distant voice of him echoing around the room, sometimes you think he's closer to where you are then he's gone, but his gaze never leaves you. It's almost sinful how good he looks in that tight green army t-shirt and cargo pants

Your arms are sore and wobbly by the time you finish. Standing up you fight a wave o nausea, closing your eyes so hard you see white dots behind your eyelids.

"You alright?" It's Kyle's hand on your shoulder what brings you back, your eyes fluttering open and find him looking at you, eyebrows slightly raised.

You give him a small smile and a nod.

"Just tired that's all. Didn't get much sleep last night." You divert your gaze where the rest are beginning to spar. "How mad is Ghost?"

Gaz chuckles.

"I wouldn't call that mad. I think he's worried. You look like shite, dear."

"Oh." You say.

Gaz prompts you to the other side to join the training. Everyone's gathered around the training mat. Soap is kicking a soldier's ass. What was his name again? You forgot.

A gentle brush on your skin and then delicate fingers wrap your arm. You freeze, Simon's feather touch sends goosebumps all over your body. You turn your face upward to acknowledge him. His deep blue eyes soften when you look at him.

"Is everything okay Sergeant?" He asks. No. He demands.

You open your mouth and then close it. That's a question you don't know yourself.

I wish. You want to say.

But nothing will ever be okay after last night.

"I... I- didn't get much sleep, Sir. That's all."

Simon sighs but doesn't insist. He just nods, accepting your answer for now, once the training is done he'd talk to you. "You're up." He instructs.

Hand to hand to combat has never been your strongest suit but you do it nonetheless. Informatics on the other hand... you're the best of the best. That's why you're here, why you're a part of the task force.

Ghost stands within your range of vision in a way that you can see that he's there even when you're fighting.

You start although you're not in your best shape. Your heart is racing but not for the adrenaline. Your mind is fuzzy and your stomach churns. The panic is starting to break loose on you. You recognize the signs. You barely dodge the man's punch, this can't be called sparring. You're merely deflecting his hits, defending yourself.

Get a fucking grip!

Soap and Gaz look at each other. Then at Ghost who's clenching his fists, looking like he's about to jump between the two and kill the man. They get ready just in case something goes sideways.

You see his fist coming to your face, you take a step back but it grazes your left cheek. Someone in the distance swears and it's enough to distract you, the next blow goes to your gut. He doesn't even hit you with full force, noticing your lack of response he refrains as much as he can but it connects with your abdomen nevertheless.

It suffocates you. Brings you to your knees spitting saliva and gasping for air. You hear the soldier's frantic apologies. You cough trying to breathe but you just can't. It hurts you.

In a quick move Ghost is kneeling beside you, eyes scanning your body for external injuries. Anything.

"Hey... hey, kid! Look at me!" He orders. You can't, mostly because you're gasping for air, coughing, and the pain in your stomach. Ghost grabs your face seeing the tears collecting in the corner of your eyes. Another wave of nausea hits you and you spit out whatever comes out of your mouth. Simon takes you in his arms lifting you and runs to the infirmary, gritting his teeth. His steps echoing in the empty hallway as he bursts the doors of the med wing open.

-

"Captain..." you greet him as soon as you walk into his office, closing the door behind you with a soft click. Price looks at you, arms crossed. The bucket hat resting on his head. He's dead serious.

"Does he know?" He interrogates with that deep voice of his. It's only been an hour since the incident. Price had to do all in his power to keep Ghost busy. It nearly costs him a limb and a punch to his face. There's only so much he can do.

"No." You murmur, looking down to your feet.

"Jesus, kid." He pinches the bridge of his nose. His head was pounding already. This wasn't good. For any of them. John had decided to turn a blind eye on the situation. As long as it didn't interfere with their duties. Now? He shakes his head. Price walks towards you, the youngest of his team and a valuable asset. You were important to him, to everyone in the 141; to Simon in a very different way. "I'm putting you on medical leave. You must take care of your health, your body. I'll see what I can do, yeah? And for the love of God, talk to Simon."

-

You don't.

And that's because you're terrified. As soon as you left Price's office you ran to your room throwing your belongings in a duffel bag. You needed time to think. Of course you'd tell Simon.

Just not right now.

The disapproving stare of the doctor was enough to make you feel bad about hiding your pregnancy from him and then your Captain. You bite your lip and head out, the taxi driver is waiting already so you hop in, wishing to get some time alone. Clear your head and then find the best way to tell Simon about this.

It's raining outside by the time you're in your apartment. You've had time to get a quick shower and take the ibuprofen for your sore body. Your hands run absentmindedly to your stomach, soothing the skin but flinching when you press too hard. You should've stayed at base and talk to him after what happened.

But you're scared of the outcome.

By this time Simon must've found out you're gone. You won't blame him if he hates you. After all you ran away from him, like a coward.

Pouring some tea on a mug you hear the sound of keys jingle, and the footsteps followed by a large shadow that towers above you. Blond hair and hard eyes contemplating you, the mask is gone...

Holy shit. You think.

The only thing that Simon finds comfort in is gone. There's something about him not hiding behind the balaclava that sets deep in your heart. As if he were baring himself to you. Not that you hadn't seen his face before; that's exactly why this is more meaningful. It's serious. He chose to show you how vulnerable you can make him.

"Why?" His stern voice sends shivers down your spine. "I went to check on you and the first thing they say is that you're gone." His lips are pressed in a thin line.

"Simon, it's not what you're thinking..."

"Then bloody tell me what is it." He seethes, taking a step closer. "Was already losing my fucking mind over that bastard hitting you and suddenly you're gone?" He shakes his head. "Had I known you weren't going to fight back..."

"I'm pregnant." You blurt out, interrupting his talk. Simon's jaw clenched, halting and freezing on his spot. "And I'm sorry I didn't come to you as soon as I found out but I was scared." Your lips quiver and you hold back a sob, but unable to do much about the tears. "I was scared to tell you because I know you never wanted any of this, I failed to you. I couldn't sleep, I was panicking and the thought of losing you... I needed time to figure out how to tell you." Simon is silent, he doesn't move nor blinks. He just stares. Memories of his time with his father flooding his mind. He never wanted kids. That's true.

Seeing you there, in front of him. Choking on your words, crying because you thought he'd abandon you like you were nothing? Bloody fucking Christ it breaks his heart. Very few things had that effect on Simon. He had made you fearful of facing this on your own. Did you think you were just his friend with benefits? Someone he'd come to whenever he wanted to get laid? Hadn't you seen the way his eyes roamed over you whenever you were around? Never fucking heard the despair in his voice when you got shot during that black ops in Afghanistan? How he seemed to loom over your presence if some pathetic muppet tried flirting with you? The nights spent in his bedroom, limbs tangled hearing you speak about your day? The mission when he finally realized he was completely and utterly fucking enamored with you?

That time he wouldn't leave your bedside because you were severely wounded and comatose?

"I am not my old man, kid." He states after a few minutes of silence. "And if it wasn't clear already, I'd do anything for you. I don't know shite about being a parent but I'll try, yeah? For you..." he clears his throat. This was as complicated for him as it was for you. "For both of you, I'll try." The words sound strange coming out of his mouth. You close the space between you and hug him, inhaling his scent. He kisses your temple while rubbing soft circles on your back. Relief washes over your body and the tears stop gradually, until it's just the two holding one another during a raging storm of feelings and nature outside.

Soon the tension, the doubts and the anxiety are replaced with reassurance and loving words.

Promises.

Things you never thought you'd hear.

[servingrobin]

I would like to see the Monster Trio lose a bet with the Reader in which he dominates him (I can see Sanji and Luffy being easy) but Zoro? Good luck, he would give in but not for long because he can't not dominate for a long time

You’re so right 😂 Zoro would not give up control for anything but let’s see

Sanji Luffy Zoro

Warnings: NSFW, fem reader, deepthroating, teasing, creampie, belly bulge

✨ requests open ✨

Sanji

- easiest of the three to give in

- You’d made a bet on something silly and when you said your potential prize he’d had a nosebleed

- you were 90% sure Sanji gave up on purpose, all dramatic sighs and “I guess you’ll have to be in charge… oh no what a shame…”

- I’d say on your bed like an eager little puppy, already stripped down to his underwear

- You can only giggle at him and push him back, tying his wrists to the bedposts with silks to stop him moving

- Sanji is enraptured, staring at you with pure adoration as he obeys your every word

- You spend hours teasing him, licking long euphoric stripes from his balls to the top of his cock

- Sanji is weeping for you, begging for more

- You decline, continuing your devilish torture of kitten licks and suckles, waiting until he was sobbing to pop his head in your mouth

- You suck at him like a demon, pulling every groan and grunt you can from the man

- His hips are bucking up into your mouth and he is begging to release

- “Please mon amour, please let me cum, I’ll be good for you…”

- You let go of his cock with a lewd pop and crawl up his body

- “You’re such a good boy for me Sanji, just a little more…”

- He cries out as you sink down on him fully, pussy lips rubbing against his pubic bone as his tip brushes your cervix

- This boy is a babbling mess by the time your finished and pleading for more bets to lose

Luffy

- You made a bet about food, who was going to eat the most in a set time when they finally stopped at a restaurant for the first time in months ( I fully hc Luffy having an S/O as addicted to food as he is)

- And Luffy is ravenous always so fully assumed he would win

- He could not comprehend quite how many dumplings you would eat in one sitting

- So Luffy held his hands up in defeat and put himself at your mercy

- He was leaned against you on the bed, his back against your chest

- He was a good sport for the most part, patiently letting you paw, scratch and bite your way around his body

- He mewled adorably when you circled his nipples with your tongue, and let out a keen when your hand snaked around to pump his already rock hard dick

- Luffy lasted until you flipped him over and sat on his cock, facing away from him as you rode him like a cowboy at the rodeo

- You stopped every time you felt him pulsing close, and he made it through about four of these stops before giving in

- He grabbed your legs and bent them up near your shoulders, your hands automatically moving to hold yourself steady as he pretzeled you into his favourite position

- Luffy barrelled into you at top speed, rocketing his hips up and down off the bed

- His own arms stretched and contorted to hold you in place

- “Yer Captain’s good girl ain’t ya mama? Just can’t keep my hands off ya…” He’s mumbling in your ear the whole time, sweet “I love ya”s and “such a tight cunt…” groaned out alongside.

- Luffy filled you full, his heavy balls emptying and clenching with a roar, the teasing you had put him through building up a load that bulged your tummy ever so slightly

Zoro

- let’s be real here folks:this man will not go easy

- You make a bet on something stupid, and unfortunately for Zoro, Sanji is soooo happy to help you win

- So it’s now a combo of sore loser and rather jealous

- You make your conditions clear and set him up on the bed, using his bandana to blindfold him as you hold his wrists above his head

- Zoro groans out low as you lick your way down his abs, tongue dipping sensually across the V of his pelvis

- You caress his balls and suckle on the tip of his cock, bringing it to full glaring red attention

- Zoro moans throughout and is happy enough stabbing up with his hips to penetrate your mouth deeper

- You hold down his hips to stop him and that’s when Zoro decides enough is enough

- Without a care for the blindfold he grabs you by the hair, pushing you down the full length of his cock until the tip hits the back of your throat

- You gag and whine around him, saliva dripping around you as tears form in your eyes

- Zoro ignores your pleas and fucks up into your mouth for a few minutes, obsessed with the obscene sounds of your gagging slurps

- He finally removes the blindfold to look at you and grunts at the sight of your messy face, mascara running, dribble in strings around the base of his cock where your mouth stretched

- Zoro doesn’t waste time flipping you over and fucking you into oblivion

- “Silly little slut, you think I’d let you take charge? You’re too good a little whore for me Princess, let me take care of you…” each word punctuated with a violent thrust of his hips

[felinecyan]

I Still Believe

[Shota Aizawa and Student!Reader]

Synopsis: All it takes is one person. One person to tell you something you’ve done right. One person to believe in you when no one else will. And that one person could change everything.

WC: 1994

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Platonic, Dadzawa✨

I thought it would be beneficial to start of my Aizawa route with Dadzawa. Hurt/Comfort tropes align with me AND him so well.

『••✎••』

The door of class 1-A's dormitories swung open, the wood and glass making a loud banging noise as it collided with the wall, a cloud of dust appearing and a small dent created in the plaster. Your head hung low, your body leaning on the door, as you stood there, panting, with tears streaming down your face.

You avoided everyone's eyes as you made your way to the common room. You tried to hide your body, pulling your hoodie over your face as you shuffled over, trying not to look at anyone as if they could see right through you. None of them noticed, too preoccupied by your classmate Bakugou's daily tantrum.

You slipped past unnoticed, walking over to the staircase. The class chatter turned to a dull murmur as you went upstairs, your feet taking you to your dorm without a second thought. It was only when you opened the door and looked around your dark and dingy bedroom that the weight came crashing down on you.

Your body crumbled, your knees falling from underneath you as your tears stained the carpet. Your body shook as you sobbed, your hands clutching onto the fabric beneath you as if you'd fall off the earth otherwise.

You knew U.A. was going to be hard; you came prepared, but nothing could have prepared you for this. You felt absolutely horrible. Compared to everyone, it was a slap in the face to say that you weren't good enough. You weren't smart enough; you weren't strong enough.

You weren't good enough.

Everyone in your class was so much better than you. Midoriya was a powerhouse; his Quirk was so powerful it would've made you laugh. Bakugou was a force to be reckoned with; his intelligence and his drive were unmatched. Iida, Todoroki, Yaoyorozu... all of them had amazing Quirks and were incredible at fighting, and yet here you were, at the bottom of the class, not even worthy of being called a hero.

Your parents were right. You weren't fit for this. They had warned you. They told you that even if you were in the top ten in the exam, you weren't meant for U.A., but you didn't listen. You wanted to become a hero; you had the opportunity, so why wouldn't you take it?

You should've listened.

The day was awful. Aizawa had kept his entire attention on you, watching every single move, every single mistake, like a hawk. Being outside the classroom, working on techniques, and using your Quirk was humiliating. The more he watched, the more frustrated he seemed, and the more frustrated he seemed, the worse you were. Even when you'd wake up at ridiculous hours, practicing until your muscles screamed at you, the improvement was not visible.

How would you be a pro if you couldn't even get the basics down?

You let out a shaky breath, trying to calm yourself. You were a mess. You couldn't even breathe properly; your head was pounding, and you felt light-headed. The tears were flowing down your cheeks like a river. Your arms shook as you tried to push yourself up. Your legs felt weak, and you were scared that you would fall again.

Then, a soft knock on your door. You froze.

"Go away," you croaked, your voice hoarse and scratchy. "Please."

The door opened, the hinges creaking softly. You looked over, trying to make out a figure in the darkness, and found yourself staring into two glowing red eyes.

Ah, shit.

You completely forgot about the roll call.

You quickly scrambled to stand, your legs wobbling beneath you as you struggled to stay upright. You tried to wipe away the tears and snot running down your face, not wanting him to see you in such a weak state, but he had already seen everything.

Mr. Aizawa stood there in the doorway, his hands in his pockets, a look of concern written on his face while those beaming red eyes stared into yours, preventing you from doing anything. Still, he said nothing, just waiting. Waiting for you to speak. Waiting for an explanation. Waiting for an excuse.

The silence was suffocating. You hated the way his gaze burned a hole through you. The tension was almost unbearable, and you weren't sure how much longer you could hold it together.

"I... I'm sorry," you managed to say after a few seconds, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so sorry."

Your body began to shake as the tears started to flow freely again. You tried to hide your face in your hands, ashamed that you were showing so much weakness. You tried to calm yourself, taking deep breaths and wiping your nose, before looking back up to meet his gaze.

The red eyes dissipated, returning to their normal black color. The light from the hallway filtered in through the door and the window, and you were thankful. Now, you didn't have to see the disappointment in his eyes.

"What are you sorry for?"

The question caught you off guard. You blinked, unsure what to say because, truthfully, you had a lot of things to apologize for. You were sorry for your Quirk, sorry for not trying hard enough, sorry for being a disappointment, sorry for wasting his time.

"For... missing roll call." You figured this was a safe answer, the answer that he most likely wanted.

But, oddly enough, you could see a hint of annoyance flash across his face. His hands fell out of his pockets, and he crossed his arms over his chest. Oh, no. This wasn't the answer he wanted, and now you were really in for it.

"And why would that be a problem?"

"Because it's part of the rules, and it shows I'm irresponsible and disrespectful," you muttered, staring at the ground.

"That... might have some validity." He was clearly trying to be polite, but his words stung nonetheless. "However, that's not the real issue, is it?"

His voice was calm, yet it was firm and unyielding. He was expecting an answer.

"Well..." you started, not really knowing how to proceed.

"Do you want to be a hero?"

The question made you freeze, and you had to stop and think. Did you want to be a hero? Of course you did. That was why you were here. It was why you had left your parents, it was why you had trained so hard, why you had studied late at night, why you had worked so hard to be accepted into U.A.

But...

Did you deserve it?

No.

"Of course I do," you replied, nodding your head vigorously. "More than anything."

"Then why do you act like you don't?" He raised an eyebrow, his expression serious. "By your attitude, it seems as if you don't feel you belong here. As if you don't want to be here."

His words struck you harder than any punch ever could. The tears returned, and you fought the urge to sob. You felt so stupid. So pathetic. Here you were, crying when there were other students who had real issues, who had real problems, and yet you couldn't hold it together for a second.

"I..." You struggled to find the right words, the words that would convey just how much you wanted this. How much do you want to become a hero? How much it hurt. How much it killed you inside. "I don't know."

He frowned, his brow furrowing. "You don't know? What kind of answer is that?"

You shook your head, biting your lip. You couldn't bear to look at him.

"I don't... I don't deserve to be here." The words tumbled out before you could stop them. Your eyes widened, and your hands flew to your mouth. You couldn't believe you had just said that.

He looked surprised, but he didn't seem shocked. He seemed almost resigned as if he had expected something along those lines.

"Is that what you think?" he asked quietly. You tried your hardest to read his expression, but his face was completely unreadable.

"I..." You hesitated, unsure if you should say what you really thought, but the stern look he gave you pushed you forward. "Yes."

He let out a deep sigh. "Why?"

You didn't want to answer. You didn't want to tell him that you were afraid, that you weren't good enough.

He waited patiently, his expression neutral. He wasn't going to leave until he had his answer.

"I... I can't do this," you admitted, tears blurring your vision. "I can't keep up. Everyone else is so much better than me, and I just don't see why I should even bother anymore. No matter how hard I try, no matter how much I practice, I just end up disappointing everyone."

Aizawa's expression softened slightly, and he uncrossed his arms. He walked closer, and you backed away, not wanting him to see how weak you were—not wanting him to see how vulnerable you were. But he followed, moving closer and closer until he was standing in front of you, inches away from your trembling form.

That's when he bent down, and his hands cupped your chin, forcing you to look up.

"You don't disappoint me." His eyes were kind, and there was a hint of a smile on his lips. "You're trying. That's more than I can say about many other students in this class."

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head. "That's not true! You saw today, I—"

"I saw a student who is willing to do whatever it takes to be the best they can be," he cut in, his voice calm and steady. "That's all anyone can ask for. If you're not giving your all, then what's the point?"

"But... I'm not good enough," you whispered, your lip quivering. "I can't do it."

"Who said that?" His gaze was intense, and his hand moved from your chin to cup your cheek. "Who told you that you couldn't do it?"

The only people who had ever told you that were your parents, but you couldn't tell him that. You couldn't bear to have him look at you with pity. You couldn't bear to have him look at you at all.

You didn't answer. You couldn't answer.

"Listen to me," he said, his voice dropping lower as he took note of your expression. "There's no such thing as not good enough. There's only enough. You are enough. More than enough."

"But-"

"Don't argue with me," he said, shaking his head. "I know what I'm talking about. If you weren't enough, if you weren't worth it, you would've never been accepted into U.A. to begin with. But you're here, and that means you're more than enough. You're worth it. Never forget that."

His words were like a knife through your heart, and the tears flowed freely now. You couldn't stop them even if you tried. You felt so overwhelmed. He was saying all the right things, all the things you had wanted to hear, and it was too much.

You let out a strangled sob, and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. His hands ran through your hair, and his voice was soft as he murmured in your ear.

"I've seen potential in you from the start," he said, his words filling you with hope. "I still believe in you. I still see that potential. You just need to believe in yourself, and then you'll start to see that progress within yourself."

You clung to him, your face buried in his chest. His arms were strong, and they felt so safe like nothing could ever hurt you. Like you could never disappoint him.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible. It was all you could say.

Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for not giving up on me.

Thank you for being the first one to tell me I was good enough.

[creedslove]

JOEL'S EX WIFE WANTING HIM BACK - HEADCANONS ✨

No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

A/N: hi besties!!! Just a small little idea I got while I was watching some good old female rivalry soap opera drama over breakfast ❤️

Warnings: Sarah is a teen here ❤️

• when you got together with Joel, Sarah was already 12, her mom had been gone since she was a baby and though neither of them had any problems about talking about what happened, it wasn't a frequent subject, even if they treated it with naturally, they didn't like talking about it and it was completely understandable, after all, Joel had been abandoned with a weeks old baby and that baby had to grow up without her mother around

• so you always simply decided to pretend she never really existed in the first place, and technically, in your life, she never really did it, because from the moment you began dating Joel, he wasn't her ex-husband anymore, but instead, he was your boyfriend, and Sarah wasn't really her daughter, but your stepdaughter and you both had learned how to love and enjoy each other's company

• you were leading a happy life with the Millers, being part of their household and falling into the same routine as they did, as you spent longer at their place than at your own, until it didn't make any sense for you to keep paying rent, after all, you and Joel were very much together and in love and the natural course of your relationship would be of course, getting married or something like that

• you were happy with your little family, Sarah's issues regarding her mom seemed to be filled up pretty good by you once you joined the family, as she finally had someone she could talk to about boys and other girl stuff. She also really approved yours and Joel's relationship, always commenting on how happy you made her dad and how nice it was to have a more family like routine

• things were good and happy and you couldn't wish for anything more than that, you were as pleased as you could be, and you were pretty sure Joel was the man of your dreams, there was no way you could love someone as much as you loved him and so was the story of how the Millers became a very happy family

• and that was why it shocked the fourth of you - because Tommy was hella shocked as well - when Sarah's mom, Angela, decided to get in touch with Joel; she had found him on Facebook and messaged him, much to his shock, he'd done the same with Sarah, just like that, texting the daughter she'd abandoned as if she was just an old pal saying hello after losing touch for years

• at first, the two of them decided to ignore it, not sure how to act or how to even respond to it, but after a couple of days more in which Angela kept insisting on texting, more like begging Joel for a chance to talk, he decided to talk to his daughter and get to a conclusion together and after considering a lot together, they decided they would answer to her and see what she wanted

• and of course Angela sent quite a few sob sad texts saying how hard things were for her, how much she'd missed her family and mostly her daughter and how she regretted leaving. Joel wasn't quite convinced with that, quite the opposite, he was still bitter and angry at everything that went on, but he could tell Angela's words somehow messed up with Sarah's feelings, after all, she was a reject baby by her mom and at some level, she needed her approval in any way

• so Joel and Sarah agreed to meet up with Angela again, something small, at a coffee shop where they could all sit down and talk things through so they could see how things went between them, you'd also decided not to show up, it was such an intimate moment, you didn't belong in that scenario and you also had no reasons to be suspicious of Joel, you loved and trusted him and he trusted and loved you back, there was no reason to worry about anything at all

• you were genuinely happy to know Sarah had warmed up for her mom and the two of them hit off, having a lot in common and deciding to spend more time together, going on dinners, lunches and movie sessions together; it seemed Angela's presence was a benefit for them, and it was, you liked to see Sarah so happy about her return, it only became a problem when Angela started to show up more and more often at Joel's home

• it was your home too, and as much as you didn't want to be selfish or annoying, you had to admit it bothered you A LOT she was all the time around, at first she started with smaller things, such as visiting you all on Sunday afternoon, or bringing up a dessert, which of course, had to be Joel's favorite and kept gushing about the times they were still married; Angela was a pretty woman, you couldn't deny that, and the fact she seemed so willing to be nice and pleasant around her ex-husband

• and that imposition of her presence into your house and your family was beginning to bother you even more; suddenly, Sarah didn't want to go to the mall with you anymore, instead, she wanted to go with her mom. She didn't want to bake cookies with you anymore because your cookies had that sugar thing in the bottom so she liked her mom's better and as much as you tried understanding Sarah needed and had all the right to enjoy her mom's company and presence, it still hurt you, because you missed Sarah, and yet, it felt as if you weren't important to her anymore

• Seeing the shifts in your dynamics with Sarah, Joel tried to be understanding and even offered himself to talk to her, but you dismissed the idea, it was embarrassing enough you were feeling jealous, you didn't need Joel to get into the middle of that, but it still made you upset when Sarah decided to go to the movies with her mom to watch the newest Ghostbusters movie you two had agreed on going together

• and just as Angela stole Sarah from you, she was more than willing to steal Joel as well: she wanted him, he was even more handsome, his business became successful and he lived comfortably and now Sarah wasn't an annoying baby anymore, it was fun to be around her and she wanted her family back

• so to you, things started going sour when you decided to stop by Joel's business to bring him lunch; you'd prepared him a pretty good lunchbox and you were very excited to see his reaction, however, when you got to his small office, you found him and Angela eating a foot long sub, as it was kind of an inside joke between them from when they were young

"oh shit baby, I had no idea you'd bring me lunch, if I knew it..."

• Joel said wiping his mouth with a napkin as he had sauce on his beard like an idiotic child would and it made your blood boil, Angela simply smirked at you and you knew exactly what she was doing, your gut feeling was right all along, she was a filthy bitch

"it's fine Joel, it's just a sandwich, it's not like you're cheating"

• you didn't know exactly why you said that, it was the first time in your life you had ever said that towards Joel because it had never even crossed your mind there might be a possibility of it happening, but once you said those sour words, an awkward silence, a think tension in the room spread and you felt extremely uncomfortable to be there

"I'm sorry, you can give the lunchbox to Tommy in case he hasn't had lunch if you want, that way the food won't go to waste"

• you told Joel and turned to Angela, you didn't want to hide how much you didn't like the fact she snuck into his office to bring him lunch like a devoted wife

"you know, it's an odd choice to bring your ex-husband lunch instead of your daughter, I'm sure Sarah is starving right now..."

• in the evening, Joel felt very bad about what had happened, he hadn't done anything wrong, but at the same time it was wrong because even if it was just a sandwich, it wasn't about the sandwich but rather who had brought it to him, he knew it had hurt your feelings and he wanted to make it up to you, so he arrived home, using all his charms, his puppy eyes, his sweet talking and his soft neck kisses to convince you to go out with him; he was going to take you out for dinner: at a restaurant, not a bar for beer and burgers, but an actual meal

• you enjoyed your time with him, appreciating his effort to make something nice for you, so you grabbed a table, ordered meals and enjoyed each other's companies, as Joel held your hand and talked about his day, telling you how much he'd missed you and how gorgeous you were, dinner was going smoothly and what happened during lunch time had almost faded from your mind, when you heard someone clearing their throat

"oh hey... Enjoying some romantic dinner? That's a good place, right? Joel used to bring me here every so often, money was very short back then, but he always made an effort"

• Angela gave the two of you a bright smile, loving every single ounce of anger that clearly went through your face, what the fuck was that disgusting woman doing there? Why did she have to ruin your date night like that? It made your blood boiling, Joel immediately sensed the tension and tried coming up with something to say, but Angela just shrugged

"I came over just to grab myself some dinner, excuse me and enjoy your evening"

• she faked sympathy and blew Joel a kiss, knowing damn well the whole evening was already ruined for you, which made her pretty good about herself

• once you got home, you decided to have a heartfelt conversation with Joel, tell him every single thing that was bothering you, after all, communication had always been a big deal for you and it was important for you to open up and be straightforward about the matter, and he agreed with you, he said Angela was crossing the boundary and he assured you he was gonna talk to her

• so during the next few days, things were alright again between you and your sweet Joel; you were still very much in love and Sarah had been so busy with her tests at school, you didn't even hear of Angela's name and you'd be lying if you said you weren't happy about it, it was a relief she wasn't around and you even suggested Joel to make barbecue on Saturday, you'd have an extra shift but then you could enjoy the weekend with your family

• he gladly accepted it and you spent the rest of your week quite excited for it, you liked his barbecue, it was such a dad trait he had and you wanted to spend some time in bed with him too, once you arrived from work, you smiled as you saw Tommy's truck and you could smell the delicious scent of food, as you got off your own car, you went straight to the backyard, smiling from ear to ear

• but it didn't last long, your smile died when you spotted Angela; she was wearing a short summer dress and laughed happily at something Joel said, it must've been so funny because Sarah was laughing too. Angela was holding a bowl of egg salad and the moment she saw you, her own smile died, as if she was the one who had her day ruined by an intruder in her family, and not the other way around

• you frowned as Sarah sighed at seeing you, it didn't take a rocket science genius to see she was disappointed in seeing you there, as if you had got in the way between her mom and dad, you stared at Joel, your eyes filling up with angry tears as he immediately walked to you, holding you by the waist

"baby..."

"I'm going to the bathroom to wash my face and when I come back I don't wanna see this woman here, I've had enough, I don't care if she's your ex or Sarah's mom, she clearly wants to take my place and sometimes I feel like she has already..."

"don't say that, baby girl, that's not true"

"so get rid of her Joel"

• you left to the bathroom so you could freshen up and clear up your mind; hoping she would be gone by then, you didn't want to see her at all, so once you stepped into the kitchen, you were ready to start your weekend, with the exception of the scene before your eyes: Angela's lips on Joel's

• you felt as if you lost the ground from under your feet, and even if Joel shoved her away from him and began apologizing one hundred times, you'd had enough; Angela got what she wanted: you out of the way

• you ignored everything Joel said, as you blinked your tears and shook your head, leaving the house, the house that used to be your home, but now you weren't so sure; maybe all you did all that time was fill up the absence of Angela, and now, that Joel and Sarah had the original one, they didn't need you anymore

• that was only one out of many thoughts that crossed your mind, you didn't want to believe that, you loved Joel and Sarah and you wanted to continue thinking they also love you, but your heart was broken and Joel Miller was to blame 💔

____

[deathbyathousandspiders]

So imagine a fic based off the song "boy in the bubble" by Alec Benjamin where reader gets in a fight on the way home from school the one time she doesn't walk with Peter. Preferably have her father be Tony Stark and he'd take place of the mother in the story.

first, i wanted to say that i loved writing this and i love song prompts :) i hope you enjoy this !!

second, i want to apologize to the anon who told me i better not disappear for months because oops–

WARNINGS (18+ MDNI) — hurt reader, mentions of blood, mentions of pain/wounding, swearing.

✨masterlist✨.

3.6k.

Typically, stepping into your downtown apartment on a Friday evening would be more exciting for you. It meant that your week of stuck–up students and nerve–wracking tests could be long forgotten. It meant that you had the weekend to live freely from academic cages. At the beginning of that day, you would’ve thought today would be like any other Friday; with Peter accompanying you and your father for dinner like every week.

But Peter didn’t walk back with you.

Your tired limbs ripped from the floor with every step, hobbling out of the elevator with as much grace as you had room to carry. That room was slim, making space for the array of bruises and blood tainting your clothing. You carried the last bit of dignity you could, and tried to replace the sinister words spat at you from your attacker:

“What a weak, pathetic excuse for a Stark.”

See, till now, you’d been grateful to be excused from the attention and popularity that accompanied your title. You didn’t care for followers or anything that catered to your birthright. Your father was your best friend, and you were lucky to be a Stark just to have his light in your life. However, there were some who weren’t like your classmates or peers — people who hated the Stark name, and wouldn’t rest until the family name died at their hand.

Tonight, you’d met the first of who knows how many. The thought alone sent a serpent–like shiver down your body.

And Peter wasn’t with you.

The fumes of Tony Stark’s cooking filled your senses as you limped further into your family room. You consciously knew you were late for dinner, but the pain throbbing throughout your body put that knowledge on the back burner. The sunset was just beyond the apartment windows, and it made you wonder whether Peter had beaten you to your own house or not. It was 6:48 after all, he was bound to be there.

You’d nearly forgotten that the subtle ping of the elevator doors announced your arrival. You heard your dad set down his spatula. “You kids are late.” He greeted, hollering from the kitchen. “I hope you two didn’t stop for Delmar’s on your way back!” You processed the undertones as your knees gave out, left hand pressing into the top of the sofa back.

White knuckles gripped onto your couch as you tried to gain your balance, wincing through gritted teeth. Your right arm remained hugging your abdomen, palm pressed onto a sore–spot on your torso. Every fiber in your body ached for some sense of relief. To sit down. You were a bit too stubborn for your own liking, trying to hike up the steps and get to your room without being spotted—

“Jesus Christ!” Your father cried from the archway of the dining room. You heard his hurried steps across the hard–wood flooring, almost too nervous to meet his eyes. He made his way over quickly, and the first thing you noticed through your periphery was the ‘kiss the cook’ apron he kept tied around his waistline. “Kid, what the hell happened?” Your dad crouched down beside you, finally locking eyes with you.

The cold air hitting your eyes made you realize just how quick the tears were welling. You swallowed the lump in your throat, whether it was sobs or embarrassment or dried blood from thrown punches. “I was jumped.” Your bottom lip trembled a bit before you mustered the words out.

Your dad scanned over your body, eying just how tattered your clothes were, and how much blood painted your outfit. His eyes glistened with a parental look— a look shimmering with something mixed of worry and sadness and anguish and apology. “And Peter wasn’t with you?”

That confirmed that your best friend, in fact, had not beaten you to your apartment.

And for some reason, it made things all the more worse. Your jaw clenched a bit, both of concern and frustration. Disappointment nagged at the corners of your lips as you shook your head. “No, he said he’d meet me here later.” Your imagination got the best of you, replaying your evening but if Peter actually had been with you. The thought alone made you shutter. “But it was probably for the best.”

“Did he say what he was doing?” The look in his eyes said something that he wasn’t communicating. They said something unspoken that made you feel like there were things that you weren’t being told.

You ignored it, feeling a surge of pain in your abdomen. A quiet hiss fought its way up your throat. “He didn’t. But it’s fine.” No, it wasn’t. “Peter can’t throw a punch to save his life.”

A laugh actually left your father’s lips. “You’d be surprised.” He muttered, his tone speaking the same tongue that his eyes were. There was definitely something that you didn’t know, but your intuition couldn’t place its finger on what.

It wasn’t your fault that you were oblivious to your best friend’s vigilante status. You were kept in the dark about what web–slinging activities Peter Parker kept behind closed doors. Tony and Peter kept it secret that you were best friends with Spider–Man. They hadn’t let the news slip yet, and Tony wasn’t about to. They both agreed it was in your best interest to keep you safe.

Apparently, their efforts weren’t enough.

Your eyebrow rose, trying to cut through the bullshit. “Are you kidding, Dad?” You asked, maintaining eye contact as your father rose from his crouched position beside you. “It’s Peter Parker we’re talking about here. He wouldn’t even kill a fly.”

Tony’s hands creased his hips, shoulders shrugging gently with his response. “I don’t know, hon. He told me May had him take Karate years back.” He didn’t leave time for a response as his eyes trailed back down to the developing bruises along your arms. Seeing the crusting crimson on his daughter’s body was a sight that made him lose his appetite. “I’ll go grab my medical kit. You’re lucky that Pepper taught me a thing or two before she got promoted.”

The room fell quiet as Tony put pause on dinner and soon rushed back over with a first–aid kit. You didn’t want to stain any furniture, so you managed to sit on a wooden coffee table until you were given further instruction.

It didn’t take long before your mind wandered off to worry about Peter, and what could be keeping him so long. He did tell you before you’d parted ways that he’d join you guys for dinner? Right? You swore that he told you he’d be there by 6:30, and even you were late. Thinking back to the details made you recall some harsh memories. Your wounds throbbed at the recollection of how they came to be, and the blood that was shed, and the words that were spat…

“What a weak, pathetic excuse for a Stark—”

“We should call Bruce.” Your dad’s voice of concern and reason brought you back to the moment. All you could do was stare. You hadn’t noticed that he’d started to examine your wounds, or just how defeated and pained for you he was.

The look made your stomach twist at the insults your own self–critic threw back at you.

Before you knew it, you were standing up, choking back a wince, fighting against yourself. “No! No– it’s just a few scratches. It’s fine.” Was it? Even though the pain was searing, and you wobbled as you stepped to the bathroom. Clearly your father was overreacting. He had to be. You weren’t weak.

Tony followed your footsteps, treading close behind in case you were to trip. “Hon, I’m serious! You look like you went through a paper shredder!”

You looked at him with a grimace, disbelief shone in your eyes. Almost as if he were calling you pathetic. “Don’t make it so intense! I’m sure it’s—” You halted. Everything froze. The air sucked right back into your lungs at the sight of your bloodied figure in the mirror. Flicking on the light, you couldn’t breathe.

The color palette that covered your body could’ve painted an entire canvas worth; the shirt you wore was hanging onto your shoulders with two threads and a miracle, not to mention the slashes at the thighs of your jeans. You’d nearly forgotten that your attacker had such a thick knife until you saw it— saw yourself. A shiver snaked down the length of your spine, leaving a splintering chill behind it.

It wasn’t until Tony turned off the bathroom light that you’d realized you were staring at yourself. He carefully grabbed your hand, leading you back into the living room. “We don’t have to call Bruce, but can I at least clean you up a bit?”

You didn’t have the words to respond to him. A nod was all you could muster before he sat you back down at the coffee table. “Should I– uh.. Should I shower first?”

Tony shook his head beside you. “Until I figure out if you need stitching, no.” He went to investigate the damage, but hesitated, trying to navigate an approach. “Sweetheart? You decent enough to take your shirt off? I could grab you a blanket if that would help–”

But before your dad finished his thought, you went to try and peel off your shirt. It was a lot more difficult than you thought. Painful, too. You were cold and hot and sweaty and sticky and pins and needles dug their way into your limbs each time they moved. You were grateful your dad didn’t even pause before assisting you. He grabbed his medical scissors, snipping off the sleeves of your top.

You and your dad were really comfortable with one another, so this didn’t bother you. You were more blinded by the burns and the harshness to each ache and blemish coating your limbs and torso. Daggers upon daggers of pins and needles sunk into your flesh, yet it hurt you the most to know that you had to present yourself so battered and bruised to your dad. It made you feel so…useless. So…pathetic.

A minute of silence passed, filled with nothing but pity and the sear in your eyes, holding back tears. You wanted to be strong. You needed to be strong. Showing weakness would mean that your attacker was right. Your throat burned, swallowing hard and pushing back your damaged narrative. The feeling of how feeble you felt.

The subtle ping from the elevator made your blood run cold. Your head snapped up to look at who entered the apartment, eyes wide and teary when they met the pair of Peter Parker. And the second he jogged out of the elevator, he stopped dead in his tracks. He gasped quietly, staring back at you with the same gaping eyes.

You didn’t see the way Tony glared at Peter from beside you, but you felt the way he’d stopped inspecting you. Peter walked closer, taking cautious steps as he minimized the distance. “What happened?” His voice was gentle, perhaps because he noticed the tears coating your cheeks.

Wiping your eyes, you realized your hands were trembling. Your whole body shook from the endured trauma, and you shivered like you were in the midst of a blizzard. Had you been shaking that whole time? You didn’t have time to overthink it. You felt like you were being whisked away into a whirlwind of panic.

Tony stood up, his expression crossed with some unspoken irritation. “I need to finish dinner.” His words were short. “Kid, could you help patch her up? She mainly just needs disinfectant.” There was no room for response from Peter before your father started walking. You didn’t see him leave, but you felt the gentle kiss he placed on your head before he left one final comment with Peter:

“And you and I are going to have a talk later.”

You weren’t sure what was going on with the two. Quite frankly, you weren’t sure what was going on in general. Shaking like this, being emotional like this, it was far from anything you were used to.

It felt like you were being violated, forced open, naked— and that wasn’t just because you were without a shirt. You felt exposed, and you couldn’t hide anymore. There was nowhere you could go and nothing you could do to shield from the fact that you were vulnerable right now.

Peter sat in front of you, kneeling so that you could see him. So that he could see you. “Hey..” His voice got soft, gentler, and somehow it broke you. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth to try and stop the way it shuttered. Metal lingered on your tongue and your throat felt hollow and thick with the cries you held back. But Peter was your best friend, and he knew you.

He knew how stubborn you were with your own emotions, and how guarded you kept yourself from showing that part to other people. He knew that you couldn’t hide forever, either. And maybe he’d figured that out when his right hand went to cradle your face, and the tears finally washed away the walls you’d been keeping up.

Somehow seeing him safe was your undoing. The downfall of the avalanche you’d been hobbling in attempt to support, but you couldn’t seal the dam anymore. The relief of knowing that Peter was unharmed, the ease to all your worries, it made you forget why you’d been trying to stop your tears in the first place.

Your body broke out into violent shivers the second you let it, and your shoulders shook with every sob. Peter didn’t say anything. He merely took you into his arms and held you to him, careful not to press against any wound. It terrified you to think about what would’ve happened had Peter walked home with you, unbeknownst to you that he probably would’ve protected you from any of this happening in the first place.

It took you a minute or two to cry it out before Peter set you back on the coffee table. It seemed effortless to pick you up, and that made you realize just how strong he was. Your dad was right, Peter did surprise you.

Peter knew exactly how to mend these kinds of wounds, too. Where did he learn? It might always be a mystery. Still, it came in handy now. He draped his zip–up jacket over your shoulders, before dabbing a cloth of rubbing alcohol against every cut on your torso. He was so focused. Tensed jaw and creased eyebrow, not wavering for a second until you gained the courage to ask him a question. You took a shaky breath.

“Peter?” You murmured, immediately grabbing his attention. Peter glanced at you, the cold glisten in his focused stare began to thaw when he did. He took a breath, perhaps needing to be broken from the train of thought he’d started to entertain. With his attention, you took another breath, nervous.

Your fingers gripped the edge of the coffee table with white knuckles. If you’d been any stronger, maybe you’d broken the table, or even your fingers. “Do you.. think I’m–” You had to suck in another chunk of air just to muster out that taunting, despicable word. “Weak?” Even in your efforts to say it straight, your voice broke in an instant.

Without a beat, his eyes met yours again and he stopped everything he was doing. “Weak?” He repeated back. “No.” The word was so instantly rejected, you’d almost felt stupid bringing it up in the first place. “You’re so far from weak, Y/N. You’re one of the strongest people I know.”

Your hands went to hide your face, too ashamed of how quickly you broke before him. From the solitude behind your fingers, you couldn’t see the way Peter also broke at the words. He wasn’t sobbing as you were, but he couldn’t help the sulking of his shoulders. Peter truly blamed himself for this. Setting down the rag, gently wrapping his fingers around your wrists. “Anyone who thinks you’re weak is blind to who you are. That, or they’re fucking stupid.” He spoke softly, pulling your hands from your face.

“You’re the most courageous person. The amount of bullshit you put up with, and the reporters you call out– Fuck, I can’t even imagine walking away from a fight like you did tonight..” His words of endearment warmed your heart. “You’ve seen the unthinkable, are still going, and you think you’re weak?” He shook his head. “Impossible.”

You and Peter stared for a beat or two before he stood up, carefully helping you to your feet. “I think you’re all set to shower. Do you want me to walk you upstairs?”

Taking a breath, you took Peter’s words to heart. You got this. “I think I’ll be okay.” Ignoring the shakiness in your voice, you took paces to the stairwell. “If I’m not back in thirty, you have permission to make sure I didn’t pass out.”

Peter cracked a small smile at you, “Noted. Text me if you need anything!” He added the offer, to which he saw you nod to, and he caught a glimpse of your timid smile. He knew you’d be okay, but it still didn’t shake the weight of how to blame he was. The sound of Tony clearing his throat from the kitchen only seemed to remind him. And with a second clearing of his throat, Peter realized that Tony was trying to communicate.

Walking into the kitchen, Peter saw Tony leaned back against the counter, arms crossed with a cold stare. “Mister Stark, I–”

“Where the hell were you tonight?”

The tone changed the entire atmosphere. No amount of savory fragrances from the cuisine could take away from the fact that Peter was in trouble.

Peter’s shoulders squared at the intensity carried with Tony’s aggravation. He took a breath, pausing in the doorway. “Sir, there was an armed–”

Tony’s fist met the marble counter in a startle. “Damn it, Pete!” Kid couldn’t get a word in if he tried. “Damn it, you had one job!” His index finger went up to emphasize his point.

“What was I supposed to do??” Peter felt like he was fighting a losing battle. “I had no idea what was going to happen!” In the midst of his hushed defense, his voice broke a bit from the weight of his guilt. “Mister Stark.. I think it’s time we tell her.”

A scoff was what Peter was met with. A rush of air caught on Tony’s disbelief, throat, and dismissal. “We’d tell Y/N what? That you’re Spider–Man? That we’ve been lying for this long?”

It was a tough call, and Peter knew that. Peter also knew that Tony couldn’t keep this shit up any longer than he could. “She deserves to know!” He planned to plead his case. “Whoever attacked her tonight planned this. It wasn’t by chance, she was targeted–”

“You don’t know that—”

“And you don’t either!” Peter wasn’t about to get cut off again. He let out some of the steam he’d began to bottle. “The way she’s acting.. Something’s off about what happened. And I think she deserves to know why I wasn’t there to defend her tonight.”

As much as the two had raised their voices, or grown to anger, they let the reality of the evening sink into the space between them. The thickened air sat within the walls as they both took a breath and collected themselves. Tony’s expression melted, and he finally reached over to turn off the stove.

Dinner was almost ready.

The back of Tony’s hips met the marble countertop behind him, supporting his weight as he crossed his arms, looking at Peter sympathetically. “Look, kid. I don’t blame you for what happened tonight.”

A weight or two instantly lifted from Peter’s guilty–conscious. “I know.” He lied.

Tony’s lips curled ever so slightly at the hasty quip. “As much as I agree with your conspiracy theories on Y/N’s attacker, I don’t know if coming clean about everything will solve this.”

There was a subtle sinking to Peter’s mending optimism. “Then when do you plan to tell her?”

A pause. Tony sighed, releasing a breath he’d been holding since Peter’s spider bite. “I don’t know..” Genuinity. Tony’s paternal protocol kicked in, and he wasn’t sure how to navigate it entirely.

On the one hand, his daughter deserved to know the truth. You deserved to know the truth. His wisdom and knowledge was such a curse when it came to fatherhood, because while being honest was what his role as a father called for, logic came right back to remind him of just how many lies were piled on top of each other. What if there was no coming back from this?

Tony shrugged, appearing more open to the idea of being truthful. “I’ll tell you what.” He started, “You tell me how you’d suggest telling Y/N you’re Spider–Man, and I’ll consider it–”

“Peter’s what?”

Ice. The room turned to ice too quickly, both Tony and Peter snapping their heads to look at you in the doorway. They hadn’t noticed you’d been listening. You’d been standing there for who knows how long, considering that you hadn’t even showered yet.

Both of the men in front of you exchanged glances of sheer panic before Tony cleared his throat to get your attention. He held up the frying pan, looking you dead in the eyes with the most false–confidence you’d ever seen your father carry.

“Dinner’s ready.” His voice cracked.

Yeah, there was absolutely no coming back from this.

[rogersideup]

Helloooo! May I request a Steve Roger’s fluff! ✨Where reader has anxiety and one of the ways Steve calms her down is by skin contact. Maybe he takes off his shirt at random moments and he holds her and he lets her touch his body to feel the skin. He gives her massages once in a while. Maybe even lay naked together in bed to feel their bodies and heartbeat!! ❤️✨✨

‧₊˚౨ৎ˚Skin to Skin˚౨ৎ˚₊‧

It might not be exactly what you asked for, but I wrote this last night while having a lot of anxiety and it helped me regulate so I hope you love it regardless <3

Masterlist

Word Count: 3,076

Summary: Sometimes even the hardest days have the best endings 🧸

Warnings: descriptions of symptoms of anxiety

The hallway of your apartment building was dead silent.

Usually you'd hear the faint chatter of people behind their front doors, locking and unlocking, heels clicking, neighborly hellos.

But right now, it felt like the world had stopped spinning. Or maybe it was spinning way too fast and you had no control over it. Really, you didn't know which of those two scenarios you'd prefer, but regardless it all felt like too much.

There was no chatter to distract you from the sound of your own heart pounding so hard you could hear the blood pooling in your ears, no foot steps from friendly faces to urge you to look up from your own feet, no small talk to distract you from how Steve's thumb was apologetically rubbing the back of your hand, the one that was holding his tightly.

You trailed behind him, blinking back your tears and urging them not to fall until you got inside the comfort of your shared four walls. You stopped because he stopped, allowed your emotional barriers to start slipping at the sound of his keys unlocking the front door, then the first one fell down your cheek as his hand on your lower back ushered you from the hallway right into your living room.

Shaky, choppy breaths were all you could manage as Steve put his keys in the catch-all next to the front door. There was only a split second opportunity to see the exhaustion on his face before his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a tight hug. He cradled your head into his chest, and gently swayed you from side to side.

The smell of your boyfriend's cologne, and the ribbed cotton of his sweater beneath your hands was the last blow to your emotional barrier, that's all it took for you to start sobbing.

From the moment you woke up this morning, you were just having a bad day. It started with a nightmare, which ultimately led you to waking up 5 minutes before your alarm, not allowing much time for Steve to comfort you before you had to get ready for work.

The nightmare almost felt like a bad omen, and it sent your anxiety spiraling for the rest of the day.

The big project meeting you worked so hard on was cancelled, you forgot your lunch on the counter at home, and it unexpectedly started raining while you were wearing a white silk blouse. By the time you got home you were soaking wet in a see through shirt and hungry. You didn't have a single moment to stop and regain your composure, because you promised Steve you'd attend the Avengers monthly team building event with him.

When he saw the state you arrived home in, he urged you to stay home and promised it would be fine. But you knew deep down that he really wanted you there, so you put on a brave face and tried to salvage as much of your hair and makeup as you could, but the rain completely ruined your plans.

Instead of your hair being down and perfectly curled as planned, you had to settle for a sleek, slicked bun and a natural makeup look. This led to your outfit not looking how you wanted it, which also led to you feeling completely unhappy with how you looked and how you felt about yourself.

With hunger levels, annoyance, and sadness being very high, your self confidence, energy, and persistence was very very low.

You weren't saying that you didn't feel great about yourself, but Steve could see it in your posture, and he could tell by the way you went completely quiet. He assured you multiple times that you looked absolutely beautiful, and he wasn't lying. You always looked beautiful.

That at least earned him a small grin and a gentle kiss, but then he threw you in a room full of superheroes and their respective friends and family, and that immediately made everything worse.

Already feeling quite self conscious and insecure while being surrounded by people who were the smartest, strongest, and greatest in their respective ways had you feeling like you couldn't even take a breath.

Even on their worst days they could save the world, meanwhile you were on the brink of tears because Black Widow and the Scarlet Witch looked so pretty.

In a very bold self preservation attempt, you pushed it all down. Steve deserved some happy and chipper arm candy, and you already committed to being that for him so you tried your best to play the role.

To him, this was family and to you, this was a room full of people you didn't even deserve to be in the presence of. Although most of them became friends of yours and accustomed to your habits, they knew enough about you to know that something was wrong, but not enough to know that they shouldn't push your buttons about it.

It left you as the target of all of the jokes that evening. Nearly every conversation had a minimum of one passing comment. Steve tried his hardest to shut down as many as he could, even changing the topic a few times, but there were some things he couldn't save you from.

You appreciated him trying, but wondered if he would've rather you stayed home instead of damper his evening with your self pity. That also spiraled into some nasty thoughts, the meanest part of your brain convincing you that he didn't really love you, and you weren't good enough to even be around him.

Thats when you quietly slipped away to the bathroom just for a few moments to take some deep breaths and dry the tears pooling in your lash line, your mascara wasn't about to meet its fate twice in one day.

You knew that anxiety was most of the issue, you knew that you just needed some reassurance and a warm meal, maybe a hug and a warm shower. The thought of all of the snacks out on a grazing table for everyone to enjoy made you pull yourself together, you were hopeful that some food in your empty stomach could really help.

And it did, for about 10 minutes before Tony made yet another back handed, rude remark about you. So sly that Steve didn't even catch it, and when you grabbed his hand to try and comfort yourself, Tony threw you a wink.

Thats when you knew there was no turning your mood around. Your white flag waved high and proud as you spent the remainder of the night making yourself small, trying not to drag any attention to yourself or take any fun away from Steve.

He caught onto the way you let go of his hand and got up to grab some water, then when you came back you sat further from him. Shoving yourself into the corner of the couch leaving plenty of space between your bodies. Knowing damn well you were struggling, he could assume your brain tricked you into thinking he didn't love you, because really, he knew you that well.

Making his way over to you, he wasn't shy to put his arm around your shoulders and use his hand to draw little shapes in the top of your arm before giving you a very quick kiss to your temple.

You didn't speak for the rest of the night unless it was to say goodbye to everyone on your way out, or politely thank Tony for hosting. You didn't even speak to Steve on the way home, and he understood. Rather than trying to force you to speak, he gave you the metaphorical space you needed to keep your composure as he kept one hand on the wheel and one hand on your thigh.

That led to this moment, soaking his sweater in your tears. You felt pathetic, but it was also the first time all day you felt safe.

"I'm so sorry, honey." Steve spoke gently. He hated seeing you so upset, swearing he could physically feel his heart breaking in his chest. "I love you so much."

You sucked in a shaky breath before mustering up the only sentence you could speak. "Tony is an asshole."

"I know, Baby." Steve agreed, petting your hair and trying his best to comfort you. "They were all laying in on you way too hard. You didn't deserve it."

"They were just joking," You tried justifying between sniffles and cries. "but I couldn't handle it tonight."

"But they could've stopped after the first time I told them. I know they can be too much sometimes. Just because they're just joking doesn't mean it wasn't hurting your feelings." He justified. "You've had a long day, I think you need some love and food and sleep."

"I just want to stay here." You cried, holding on just a bit tighter. Finding your nervous system starting to regulate itself for the first time all day, you weren't feeling ready to let go of your boyfriend just yet.

Steve kissed the crown of your head multiple times, "We can stay here as long as you want."

He held you for a little while longer until your sobs turned into slow tears and you finally felt brave enough to let go of him. After getting you comfortable and warm on the couch, he walked away for a bit to make you your favorite dinner.

When he came back with two bowls and handed you one, it was the first time all day he saw your real, genuine smile. Though you were still crying, he was confident that he could turn your mood around.

Your favorite show playing on the TV, snuggles, a fluffy blanket across your lap, and eating dinner on the couch was a good start. When you were done eating, Steve took the bowl back from you and wandered off to clean the kitchen and do the dishes.

When he came back he hovered over you with a sad pout when he noticed how quick your breathing was and how he could practically see your pulse from the artery in the base of your neck. Approaching slowly, he gently placed his index and middle finger to your neck and left them there for a second before his pout deepened.

"Baby" He sympathized. "You've gotta slow that thing down, your heart is going to run away from you."

"I've had the worst anxiety all day long." You explained, wiping tears off your face. "I don't think my resting heart rate has been normal since I woke up this morning."

You could see his gears turning before he leaned over and gave you a kiss. "I know how to fix it, I'll be right back."

He wandered off again before coming back and holding his hands out for you, pulling you up off the couch. There were a few small complaints about how you didn't want to get up, or how you were so warm and comfortable, but he swore this would help.

Dragging you into the bathroom, you noticed he lit a candle and started a bubble bath. The sight alone made you release a long sigh, and Steve took that as a good sign.

The two of you fell into silence once more, words were useless when you already knew how this was going to go. Besides, all the talking would do was mask the sound of the rain pattering against the roof, and that was loved deeply by the both of you.

He flicked off the light switch leaving just candlelight to softly illuminate the bathroom while you both undressed and sank into the hot water.

Steve sat behind you, and you sat between his legs with your back leaning against his chest. The moment you settled in, his arms wrapped around your tummy and rested on top of your thighs.

With his soft skin against yours, and the pressure of the hot water against the whole of your body, your mind began to slow enough to start thinking rationally.

You could feel Steve's calm, deep breaths as his diaphragm inflated and deflated against your back, subconsciously making your body match his.

Very quickly, you went from feeling like you weren't good enough to even be around him to feeling an overwhelming sense of safety and gratitude for his love.

Especially when you never had to worry about what your body might've looked like while sitting down, or if your tummy was too soft underneath his arms. You especially didn't have to worry about what he might've felt beneath his wandering palms as starting moving them about your body, applying some pressure to your tense shoulders and the tops of your arms. You didn't have to worry about the pressure of being in this situation, already naked with his hands roaming about. His intentions were always very clear and he didn't even need his words to state them.

You were safe in the hands of the man you loved, and he loved you so much that you didn't have to worry. You didn't have to put out for him or give him anything in return right now, he just loved you, and he wanted you to feel better.

He gave you an occasional chastise kiss to your shoulder between massaging various parts of your body, and oxytocin flooded your brain faster than you understood.

The tears eventually stopped wetting your cheeks, and the rain only started falling even harder outside.

Your head leaned backwards and a bit sideways to rest on Steve's shoulder, and you couldn't help but to lift your hand up out of the water and reach back to cradle the side of Steve's face.

"I love you" You whispered, not wanting to ruin the peace. "I'm sorry I didn't say it back earlier."

"It's okay, baby." His voice also gentle and full of adoration. "I know you love me, you don't have to say it for me to know it. I trust that you know I love you too, even when your brain is being very unkind to you."

You very subtly nodded, understanding exactly what he was saying.

The two of you weren't unfamiliar with nights like these, skin to skin in the bathtub, or in the shower, even the bed or on the couch. Between the nature of Steve's job and your chronic anxiety, the two of you have become experts at being present for each other. When the world was spinning too fast or it came to a screeching halt, you could always trust the other person to know exactly how to grasp it and make it spin just right.

It wasn't something that came easy or naturally, you both learned a lot from each other and your methods were ever changing much like every season of life. The closer you bonded, the easier it was to understand each other's needs.

There was a fine line between needing affirming words and complete silence, needing support but also needing to be left alone. Some nights looked like a few hours of alone time, some looked like you were super glued together, but every anxiety attack was ended with your bare bodies regulating as one.

He knew you had your fill of silence, and your words told him you were ready to talk.

"You know you never have to shy away from me, I'm always happy to be with you even if you think otherwise." He reassured. "Thank you for coming with me tonight. I know that was really hard, but I appreciate you."

"I just didn't want to ruin your fun, I felt bad that I wasn't at my best and I didn't want you to have to deal with it. That's not fair." You explained quietly.

You learned very early on in your relationship to just be upfront and honest with Steve, another privilege of being with him. He never made you feel bad or weird about your true feelings, and he always knew just the right things to say. In turn, he was completely open and honest with you, and you've never trusted anyone more in your whole life.

"You didn't ruin the fun, the fun was ruined the moment everyone decided to make you a target and that's not your fault." Steve shook his head. "What's not fair is you thinking that having an off day makes you an inconvenience to anyone else. You're allowed to be sad or upset sometimes, baby. It's life, it's okay. How many times have you cancelled plans or altered your day just because I turned into a ticking time bomb of panic? I'm happy to return the favor, I enjoy taking care of you."

"It's different." You denied with a slight shake of your head. "You're a superhero, Stevie. Most of those days are because you've gotten shot or stabbed or you've witnessed and been involved in unthinkable horrors. I work an office job four blocks away and can barely handle that pressure."

"Thats not a fair comparison." Steve denied. "At the very root of it, we're both human and life will never be completely perfect all of the time. Regardless of if you're smiley and bouncing off the walls or just need a day to cry in bed I love you just the same."

You kissed the corner of his jaw in acceptance before completely relaxing your body against his. Steve's hand reached up and rested right over your heart.

"Besides," He started again. "I think that you're also exposed to all of those unthinkable horrors just from having to put up with me every day. The way you handle it and the way you treat me contributes a lot to my ability to do what I do everyday. I understand I probably make your anxiety worse sometimes, because I wouldn't even be able to handle dating me."

"It's worth every second of digging bullets out of you with tweezers, baby." You grinned, earning Steve's smile in return.

"See? You're a superhero too." He pointed out. "And your heart is slow and steady. That makes me really happy."

"You make me really happy." You replied without a second thought. "Thank you for this, I feel so much better."

"Anytime, Beautiful." He kissed your cheek. "I'm sorry you had a bad day. I know for sure that tomorrow is going to be so much better."

[smutstationchoochoo]

Countdown

John Price x Fem Reader

Ringing in the New Year with John Price

Word count: ~2k

A/N: Hi everyone! ☺️ It's been a while since I wrote so please excuse any spelling or grammar mistakes as I’m sure there are many. I got off of work this evening and this popped into my head as I listened to fireworks so I whipped this up real fast for you (probably too fast, not stellar writing lies ahead). It’s basically just smut, a little fluff, but mostly smut. I hope you enjoy it, even though it's basically just some overwritten notes on how I think the Captain likes to have control with a nice New Year's theme to ring in your 2024. Thank you for all the support, and wishing all of you the best in this New Year!🥳✨

Warnings: not previously discussed edging, eating out, PIV, mild crying, brief mention of squirting

Banner credit: @cafekitsune

John Price took great pride in his control.

He had worked on it for years, keeping himself in check, reacting to every situation with a fine-tuned calmness and clarity that informed how he would react. It had saved his life more than once.

He also took great pride in watching you lose control, as he dismantled it piece by piece, moan by moan, as you became a shaking mess beneath his hands, his gaze, and his words.

“That’s it, love,” he huffed into your ear with a grin you could practically hear, his large fingers continuing to pump in and out of you, causing you to ache around him while his thumb drew languid circles around your clit, “That’s it, you’re doing so good, just a bit longer, can you do that for me? Can you be a good girl now?”

You could only choke out a sob, clenching around his fingers, arms straining against the grip he had your hands in above your head, his body caging you in. When all this had started two hours earlier, you had no clue where it was leading.

You had both agreed to stay in this New Year's Eve, just celebrating between yourselves with a glass or two of champagne and what you thought would be sex and a nice early bedtime. Price had other plans for you, which you had begun to realize as you straddled his lap, completely naked, while he remained fully clothed.

He had been planting kisses along your neck, his rough hands coming to squeeze your breasts, rolling your nipples between his skilled fingers. It had all been moving so slowly, but there you were panting on top of him, struggling to maintain steady breaths. When he gave the soft skin of your shoulder a small bite, you ground down onto the hard bulge in his pants, hoping to make him move faster and seek relief from the pressure that had been building between your legs. He kissed the forming teeth marks, his hands finding your hips and you watched him pull away and look at you, head cocked and mouth in a soft grin beneath flushed cheeks.

You knew you were fucked then.

His hands pulled your hips down even harder, your clit now fully grinding against his length, and he guided you in a slow rhythm of dragging you down against him. You gasped into his mouth, hands clawing at his shoulders, gripping at the nape of his neck, and he smiled against you even shifting his hips in his seat so that he could pull you down even further.

“John,” you had groaned into his mouth, “I’m so close just- fuck- fuck me, I need you to-,”

“Shhh shhh,” a large hand had snaked up to your throat, your vision blurring simply at the feeling of the weight of it there as he barely held you, “I know what you need, just let me take my time, yeah? Let me enjoy this…”

You stared at him, only able to nod and his hand gave a small squeeze on your neck before it found its former place on your hip.

He made you stay there, grinding down on him until you were gasping out his name, a sure sign of your impending orgasm. Just as you felt yourself push over the edge, John’s hands held your hips still, making you shake above him and cry out against his mouth as the promise of pleasure faded to a hum. That grin was back in place and even a soft laugh rumbled up through his chest.

“I said I was going to take my time, love, so let me take it.”

You could have ripped his throat out with how desperate you were but before you knew it, you were in the bedroom, thrown on the mattress with your hips pinned beneath one of his arms as his burning tongue began to drag against you. You tried to raise your hips to his mouth, but his arm held you fast so that all you could do was lay there, panting beneath him as he ate you out like something to be savored. You didn’t know how much time passed, all you knew was that every time he felt you getting close he would pull away, leaving your dripping cunt to clench around nothing as he watched, enraptured.

“P-please John!”

You had begun to plead, tears beginning to leak from your eyes when he pulled away for a fifth time. You felt the rough hair along his jaw scraping against the inside of your thigh as he alternated between kisses and bites. He loved getting you like this. Loved to watch you begin to shake between each moan, the sobs that burst from your throat when he pulled away, how you struggled to push up into him, how you begged him.

He crawled up over you, lips finding yours, his tongue pushing into your mouth so that you could taste yourself on him. He slotted his knees between your legs, keeping them open and letting the cool air hit you in a way that had you shivering beneath him.

“Mmmm you’re doing so good, just a little longer, yeah? Can you do that for me? Hmm?”

You whined, and he captured the sound with his tongue, almost loving the taste of it as much as he loved the taste of you dripping down his chin.

It was then that his hands pinned your own above your head, and he slipped two fingers inside of you. His thumb easily found your swollen clit, and you keened beneath him, back arching and mouth drawn in a silent cry, held under him as he pulled that band so tight within you that you thought you may snap in half.

And he talked you through all of it.

“Fuck, love, should see the sight of you. Are you getting close? I can feel you squeezing my fingers, shhh no come on, let’s see how close we can get you then-”

“You’re being so good for me, what a sweet, good girl, that’s it just grind down on my hand, you were so close that time-”

“Shhh its ok, we’re almost there, fuckin hell love just a little bit further-”

You tried to focus on his voice as something white-hot began to burn inside of you, your vision cloudy with fresh tears, your voice shaking as you tried to beg.

Then you saw him check his phone. Just a quick glance, mere seconds, but you finally fully understood this game.

“Ohh you fucking bastard,” you moaned, “You fuck-f-fuck please John, just, I-I can’t anymore- please!-,”

An amused and heavy laugh left his chest, and you watched as he finally removed his clothes, your eyes catching on the hair across his chest, then nearly choking as you felt the thickness of him press against your hip.

“Took you long enough, love,” he huffed in amusement, as he took himself in his hand.

You looked down between you two and watched as he began to stroke the red, angry length of himself, and then up at him. His eyes locked on yours, an amused brow and an even cheekier grin as his mouth opened to release soft pants that he pulled from himself with each stroke.

“You want this?” he asked, and somewhere in the back of your mind you reminded yourself to strangle him but all that came out was your own strangled agreement.

He reached into the nightstand and swiftly opened the condom package before rolling it down his length with an accompanying roll of his broad shoulders.

Your eyes flashed back down between the two of you, watching as he stoked himself a few more times before pressing the tip against you. Your jaw fell open as he slowly impaled you on his length, the width of him stretching your walls with a sweet burn, that had more sharp gasps clawing their way up your throat until his hips were flush with yours. His hand found your chin, tugging it up to look at him again.

Small glistening beads of sweat had formed at his crown of mussed brown hair as he held himself still within you, allowing you to get used to his thickness. His gaze was hard and focused as he licked his lips, nostrils flaring with a deep shuddering breath as you clenched around him. He smiled and slowly pulled out, before just as slowly rolling his hips back into you. Your arms clutching at his, your legs now wrapped around his waist urging him to go faster.

“I’m going to countdown from 10,” he said as he snapped back with a particularly sharp thrust that made stars burst behind your eyes, “and then you can cum.”

He didn’t even give you a chance to respond, instead, he brought himself up to a kneel so that he could fully look down on you as you came undone.

“Ten,” he grunted with another thrust, his hands gripping at your thighs, this time deep enough to reach something devastating that had you slamming your eyes shut.

“Nine,” he hung his head, to watch himself as he disappeared within you, “Good girl.”

“Eight,” he said, as your breath caught in your throat with a choked whine when his thumb found your clit again.

“Seven,” Price’s own breathing was beginning to quicken, his voice catching on something low and raw and wicked.

“Six,” he swallowed hard, his eyes clenching shut now, a tick in his jaw, unable to see the furrow of your brow as you struggled to last, you fought to wait, but it was huge, it was closing in all around you, it was burning you up as he ground himself in and out of you-

“Five- fuck,” Price’s hips picked up to a brutal pace as he felt you beginning to clamp down around him with molten heat as you felt a sort of unfamiliar pressure surge within you just behind the pleasure.

“Four,” he said in reassurance as you began to claw at the sheets.

“J-John, I-,” you tried to warn him.

“Three, c’mon love, so close,” he huffed out into the air.

But it was too late.

Your vision went white as your back arched so hard off the bed that Price reached his arms around you to hold you steady and you shook beneath him, your long overdue orgasm tearing through you with such speed that you could only sob out his name over and over, grinding yourself down with each pulse and wave onto the length of him. Faintly in the back of your mind, you registered a wetness between your legs.

“Oh fuckin’ hell, f-fuck did you just-,” John’s hips ground within you, once, twice more before he was holding your hips down against him as he came inside of you with a loud groan.

You both stayed there for a few moments after, panting as he softened within you and the sweat across your bodies began to prickle with a chill. His hands rubbed soft circles over your thighs before he leaned down. His open mouth nearly meeting yours.

“Couldn’t wait could you?” he grinned as your lips sought his.

“You made me wait long enough,” you countered, and he gave a soft chuckle finally allowing you to capture his mouth in yours.

He took the moment to slip himself from your warmth, causing you to give a soft shuddering sigh.

“Happy New Year, love,” he whispered into your waiting mouth, before kissing you once again.

You hummed back, sleep beginning to wash over you but Price gave your hip a soft tap.

“C’mon,” he said, “let's get you in a shower. I’ve got to change these sheets, they’re soaked.”

John Price looked down at you and at the wet sheets feeling a swell of pride wash over him. Pride at what his control could give him, pride that you trusted him enough on evenings like these to take control, and then that pride melted away and all that was left was the aching love he had for you and how if you asked, he knew he would give you control.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you all have a wonderful New Year! 🥰✨

[goldfades]

CELLLLLEBRATION TIME COME ON 💃🏽✨💃🏽✨

Alsoooo…🌪️cuz we need some angst up in here.

Can we get prompt "If I ask you to kiss me in front of all these people, will you do it?" for Kate plz?

-🐹

evangeline's 2.5k celebration !! [closed!]

wheww, this is a lot. i forgot how much i enjoyed writing gut wrenching angst LMAO, enjoy🤗🤗🤗 (don't kill me pls)

─ warnings | lots of word vomit (sorry, i was listening to taylor swift and got a bit carried away), ANGST!!!!!! WITH NO HAPPY ENDING!!!!!!!! unrequited love (?) best friends to lovers, break up (?) all depends on how you view it

YOU PULLED OUT OF KATE'S GRIP, feeling all the emotions of the last couple months weigh on your shoulders as your throat began to tighten.

you stepped back, trying to gather your thoughts, but they swirled like a tempest within you. the weight of the past months seemed to press down on your chest, suffocating you with each breath. memories flooded your mind, each one a sharp pang of regret, anger, or hurt.

"y/n, hey!" kate's shouts echoed throughout the hallway as she chased you down.

you held back your tears ─ you couldn't ─ no, you wouldn't ─ cry in front of her teammates, and especially kate. you walked as fast as your legs could carry you, each step a deliberate effort to put distance between yourself and kate's pursuing voice.

your chest felt tight, your heart pounding in sync with your hurried footsteps. you couldn't afford to break down now, not when every fiber of your being screamed for release, for solace from the emotional maelstrom that threatened to consume you whole.

kate caught up (she always did), she gripped your arm and pulled you back to face her. her grip was tight and bruising, but you knew she never meant to hurt you.

"what? what's wrong?"

how could she be so oblivious? you felt a sob bubble up in your throat but you swallowed it. you stared into her pretty blue eyes, the same ones who'd at one point, given you so much comfort ─ now, they felt almost like a strangers to you. the familiarity of her gaze, once a source of solace, now felt foreign and distant, like staring into the depths of an abyss you no longer recognized.

her grip tightened on your arm, a silent plea for you to open up, to share the turmoil that threatened to consume you. but how could you begin to articulate the storm raging within your heart when even the simplest of words felt like shards of glass on your tongue?

you swallowed hard, trying to push past the lump in your throat, but the words remained trapped within you, suffocating you with their weight. how could you explain to kate what you could barely comprehend yourself?

"do you want me? like, really want me? all of me?" you began, your words quiet as kate's expression turned from confusion to stern.

"what?" she choked out, her grip loosening from your arm. "y/n, you wanna do this now?"

"do you?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of your words hung heavy in the air. "do you really want me? all of me?"

kate's expression softened, her features clouded with a mix of emotions ─ surprise, uncertainty, and something else you couldn't quite name.

"what do you mean?" she asked, her voice tinged with confusion.

you hesitated, the words catching in your throat like a jagged edge. how could you begin to explain the tangled mess of emotions swirling within you, the doubts and fears that had plagued you for so long?

"i mean..." you began, your voice trembling slightly. "i mean, do you want me in the way that... that i need you? in the way that i've always needed you?"

you've been there for her, the entire journey and she was still "oblivious". you sat back and watched her fall in love with other girls, with other people while you remained on the sidelines, silently yearning for a love that seemed forever out of reach. you watched as she poured her heart into relationships that never quite measured up to what you knew you could offer.

and the worst part of it is, she always knew. she wasn't dumb or oblivious ─ she strung you along like a puppet on a string, weaving a tangled web of false hope and empty promises. she knew the depth of your feelings, the extent of your devotion, and yet she chose to keep you at arm's length, content to bask in the warmth of your affection while giving nothing in return.

you were nothing more than a convenient placeholder, a shoulder to lean on when her latest romance crumbled, a temporary fix for the loneliness that plagued her restless heart.

and as you watched her flit from one relationship to the next, each one leaving a trail of broken hearts in its wake, you couldn't help but feel a simmering resentment building within you ─ a resentment born from years of unrequited love and silent suffering.

but even as the bitterness threatened to consume you, you couldn't bring yourself to turn away, couldn't bring yourself to let go of the faint hope that maybe, just maybe, she would finally see you for who you truly were ─ a loyal friend and a love worth fighting for.

"i thought..." she started, her voice trailing off as she struggled to find the right words. "i thought we were okay. i thought... i thought we were good."

you shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. "we're not okay, kate. we haven't been okay for a long time. and i don't know if we ever will be."

"i didn't realize..." she began, her voice barely above a whisper.

"but you should have, you were my best friend." you interrupted, your tone tinged with frustration. "you should have seen it, kate. you should have seen how much i needed you, how much i still need you."

kate's gaze softened, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "i'm sorry," she whispered, reaching out to brush a stray tear from your cheek. "i'm so sorry, y/n-"

you moved away from her touch, the hurt in her expression deepening. "if i asked you to kiss me, in front of all those people, would you?"

kate hesitated, her expression turning from one of confusion to one of uncertainty. she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out, her gaze flickering with uncertainty as she struggled to find the right response.

"yeah, that's what i thought," you scoffed and pulled your arm from her grip. "i'm done,"

"baby-"

you scoffed again, the unshed tears burning in your eyes as you shook your head. "don't you call me that, don't you dare call me that. not after everything,"

you couldn't help it, the tears began falling before you could even comprehend it. each drop felt like a release, a cathartic release of all the pain and frustration that had been building within you for so long.

you turned away from kate, unable to bear the sight of her in that moment, unable to bear the weight of her empty promises and half-hearted apologies.

"i'm sorry," she pleaded, her voice thick with regret. "i... i didn't mean to hurt you."

but her words felt hollow, empty promises that rang hollow in the echoing emptiness of your heart.

"i know," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "but that doesn't change anything."

and with that, you turned away, leaving kate standing alone in the hallway, the echoes of your footsteps fading into the distance.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[felixsmeshglove]

Okay but like I can't get this idea out of my head

Abo poly ot8 skz with reader who is the only omega

They pair up when having sex with the reader. Every Alpha has a beta with them when breeding you.

Obviously Alpha Minho with Beta Han.

Do whatever you want with this ask!

category ; thirst/imagine

cw ; poly!ot8 skz, a/b/o dynamics, afab!reader, voyeurism, edging, idk what else

oh my fucking god don’t even get me started it’s so fucking funny. by this point, the boys have discovered a sort of uhh.. logistical problem– about you being the only omega.

after so many of your heats where you’re absolutely overwhelmed with hickeys, marks and their scent that any other stranger might think you’d been mauled, the boys had a sit down and finally came up with ✨the system ™️✨

now, they have a rotating schedule of pairs that you get to stay with you during your heats. each alpha paired up with one beta to make sure each and every one of your needs were tended to.

moving on to the actual pairings…

alpha!chan with beta!jeongin -;-

when you’re with channie and innie it easily goes one of two ways, depending on the mood. slow, sweet and sensual, making sure you’re every need is completely doted to while chan teaches our inexperienced little maknae how to properly rip an orgasm from your throbbing, aching cunt. chris would kiss your tears away as you’re sobbing with pleasure, trembling and hugging close to his toned torso as jeongin fills you up with yet another load with slow, deep drags.

the other way it can go, is absolutely chaotic, jeongin giving in completely to his instinct and your absolutely delectable scent as chan is enthusiastically coaxing jeongin’s face closer so that he can lap deeper into your sweet pussy. don’t get me wrong, chan gets a lot out of this as well. after all, if jeongin wants to try something or practice, chan was going to need to demonstrate on you…

alpha!minho with beta!jisung -;-

when you’re with minho and jisung, minho just seems to be exponentially more bossy and demanding. he loves to watch and press his hips into jisung’s, helping to control his pace and guide jisung’s hips to provide you the maximum amount of relief. he will occasionally scold jisung if the younger was too close. after all, the alpha gets to cum first.

finally, minho would tease you as he would bully his cock deep into your overworked cunt, all while loudly discussing with jisung how good you feel between jisung’s sweet and messy kisses to your lips. you would often become so loud and whiny that minho would suggest jisung occupy your mouth with his cock to pacify you. this worked quite well, after all they didn’t want to disturb the rest of the pack. it was hard enough not always being with you for every heat.

alpha!changbin with beta!seungmin -;-

this pairing is often the one that leaves you the most marked up and sore. i am a huge fan of “binnie is the strongest alpha” supremacy. yes, channie leads, but changbin’s muscles speak for themselves. changbin’s strength combined with seungmin’s creativity and their shared high levels of energy you’re left absolutely exhausted. changbin and seungmin are absolutely devious together, because seungmin gets so many ideas for different positions and ways to use furniture to their advantage, and changbin has the strength to hoist you up or hold you however which way is necessary.

changbin would hold you, thighs pressed to your stomach passionately nipping at the back of your neck as seungmin’s cock thumps harshly against your gummy g-spot in just the perfect way. seungmin loves to tease, and would happily mock your mewls and whimpers as he eagerly fucks the thoughts out of your head. heats with changbin and seungmin are just erratic, desperate and needy.

alpha!felix with beta!hyunjin -;-

you see, this pairing is a bit of a toughie because felix is probably the least alpha-like alpha, and hyunjin is probably the least beta-like beta. this often causes their roles to switch and blend with you, but at the end of the day, you’re the omega here. regardless, these are usually the sweetest most sensual heats you have. both men aren’t particularly the type to be rough or aggressive. they prefer to stay comfortable in the nest, covering your hot and sensitive skin with kisses.

much more selfless lovers as well, they’re willing to use any and every part of themselves to help please you and relieve the aching heat you feel. eventually, after begging for their cocks would they jump at the opportunity. hyunjin would sweetly beg for you to suck him off, promising that he’d massage your scalp while he did, while felix ruts deep into your warm and tight cunt.

you wouldn’t have it any other way though, you love your boys and they all love you so much.

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Always In My Heart✨

Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x fem! reader

A/N: I lost my best fur baby today. October would’ve been 3 years since I adopted him. From a stray on the streets to a spoiled house cat. He battled so much. From FIV+ to broken teeth to diabetes and then to cancer. He was the best kitty ever and was my very own first cat, so he was extra special. I wrote a little one-shot to try to express how hard this loss is for me and to try to cope. I miss you, little Biscuit. Mama loves you 🥹 This is for everyone who’s ever felt the loss of losing a beloved pet.

Summary: Losing a pet is never easy, but you’re not alone because Joel is right there with you, keeping you afloat.

Word Count: 1.2k

Tags: Grief, love, soft Joel, losing a pet, angst with comfort, no use y/n, no outbreak au

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Drip. Drip. Drip.

   The misty rain pelts on your drenched skin, and you’re cold. You’re so very cold. You can feel the chill burrowing down to your shaking, fragile bones like they may break at any moment. 

   Thunder booms through the gloomy sky, lightning flashes in the far distance, and you swear you can hear the faint cry of a lost soul deep in the woods. Can almost hear your favorite meowing coming from the covered grave in front of you…

   The grey clouds completely cover the sun, the pattering rain seems to mourn just like the cold tears that stain your cheeks. You feel lost, broken, just like your heart is. Completely shattered.

   The crunching noise of the shovel meeting the earth is almost too much for you to handle. This is too much. On your knees, fingers curling in the hollow dirt, your jeans ruined from the muddy ground. And you can’t look up, can barely open your swollen eyes as you mourn the loss of your favorite cat who had made you so very happy. 

   He was your entire world.

   You miss him so much. The feel of his long, soft fur. He felt like velvet, smelled like a warm summer’s day, and you miss the way he’d curl up on your shoulder at night, purring with affection and love. You miss his little meows, the ones that would echo down the long hallway. It always was your favorite thing to wake up to.

   But now he’s gone. Faded into the afterlife when the cancer became too much. He was a fighter, the strongest fighter you’ve ever known. But now he’s just a precious memory. 

   And it hurts. God, it hurts.

   Your tears blur your vision, your face buried in your dirt covered palms, fighting the bitter sting of losing your best fur baby. You only had him a few short years. It wasn’t enough time. And now he’s gone…

   The sobs escape your lips, and you’re now a blundering mess on the ground, asking God to just give you one more day. One more day of long cuddles and top of the head kisses. And his slow blinks. The ones he’d give you every single time you told him how much you loved him. 

   You just want him back, but life isn’t fair, and pets don’t get to stay nearly as long as you’d like. Life is cruel, and you wouldn’t wish this awful pain on your worst enemy.

   You shrink against your drenched raincoat, not even caring that your hair is tangled and dripping down your back. You don’t much care for anything right now; all you can feel is the large hole that’s gaping in your broken heart.

   The rain continues to pelt down on your shoulders, your body shaking like you’re stranded in the middle of the Arctic Ocean. The frigid waters are dragging you under, and they’re about to swallow you whole.

   Just when you think the dark depths will win, strong arms encircle your back and envelop you into a warmness that soothes the screaming voices in your head. 

   “Hey. Easy now, sweetheart. Easy.” His thick, deep drawl shrouds you in comfort while big teardrops fall against his dark green flannel. He cradles the back of your head with one hand, the other gently drawing soothing circles down the middle of your back.

   “I… I didn’t get enough time, Joel. It wasn’t enough. I should’ve done more. He could’ve had more days. I didn’t…”

   “Shhhh. S’alright, babygirl. You did more than enough. You gave him the best life he could’ve had. Do you know how lucky he was to find you? You were the best cat mama I’ve ever seen. You loved him so much, and he loved you very much,” he coos, pulling you closer to where you can smell his woodsy cologne and a hint of tobacco wafting off his tongue. 

   He feels like home. He is home.

   “You really think so?” you sputter out, tears breaking over your lash line and falling onto his soft button-up shirt.

   “Look at me,” he says gently, his hand cupping your chin and tilting your face up to look into his soft brown eyes. Eyes that make more tears spill over the edge. He catches them, wiping them off with the pads of his thumbs and softly traces them down your cheeks until you feel warmth flood your insides. “You’re such a brave girl, my love. So very brave. And you were nothin’ but loving with that cat. Even made me fall in love with him, sweetheart.”

   You giggle, your breath shaky and eyes misty. Even when you’re sad, Joel Miller can make the rainy days turn to blue skies. “He loved you, Joel. He followed you everywhere you went in the house. Especially in the mornings when you made your coffee.”

   He laughs and shakes his head, his brown eyes a little teary from the memories. “Yeah, he sure did. And I’m gonna miss him a lot.”

   “Me too,” you squeak out quietly, gripping onto him like he’s your lifeline. 

   He leans forward and traces his plush lips against your forehead, leaving you breathless with the semblance of comfort he leaves on your skin. He’s like a blanket of warmth, and he’s just saturated you in love.

   When he pulls back to look at you, he pushes a wet strand of hair behind the shell of your ear and lingers there on your cheek, sparks radiating through his touch. “I love you, sweet girl. And I know this hurts. It hurts like hell, but you’re so strong and brave. You’ll get through this. It’s gonna take time, but I’m right here to help you through it. You’re gonna be okay, sweetheart. Maybe not today, maybe not next week, but you will be. And I’ll be here through it all with you.”

   A tear slips from the corner of your eye, and then you’re crashing into him, throwing your arms around his broad back as you sniffle into the soft material. “Thank you, Joel. For being here for me. For helping me lay him to rest in our backyard, for loving him as much as you love me.”

   His fingertips brush your skin, and then your head tilts back automatically, knowing what that touch means. He leans in and places a soft, lingering kiss on your lips, the kind you want to melt in, one that tastes like honey and longing and pure comfort. When he breaks the kiss, he places another on the top of your head and pulls you flush to his chest, strong arms enveloping you once more. And it feels like peace, a place you can rest and bring life back inside your worn body.

   Joel brings you to life time and time again. And this time is no different. 

   “‘Course, sweet girl. I’ve got ya, always. I love you,” he whispers, blanketing you in love that only Joel can make you feel. 

   Suddenly, you know you’ll be okay. It might hurt for a bit, but Joel will always be here. Even on your worst days, he keeps showing you that he’ll never leave you struggling. He’ll be here for it all, loving you till the end.

[creativewritersposts]

concert ticket - Lando Norris

summary; Lando Norris x reader

You're hyped to get concert tickets for Taylor Swift - the Eras tour until everything is sold out and you're very upset about it. Lando gets very creative to cheer you up!

warning(s); none, little bit angst, fluff, maybe grammar errors

author's note; hi ✨ hope you enjoy this one!

Quickly reminder my request box is always open 💞

--------------------------------------------------------------

"hey babe, Taylor Swift is going on tour!", a squeak escapes your mouth, too excited since you heard the news. Lando huffs, rolling his eyes, "I'll not go with you!". It's not like he hates the singer, he likes her songs but for two or three hours nonstop?

You blink twice, "why not?". You put on your begging face which lando never could resist. He crosses his arms in front of his chest, "I'm not a fan of songs like "Stopp you're losing meee", he imitates the lyrics with dramatic body gestures. "You cry over her songs like you're lovesick and you're in a happy relationship with me!", he argues.

You can feel how your mouth changes into a small, thin line. "don't you dare to talk about this masterpiece like that, Lando Norris!". When it comes to Taylor, you're ready to fight. He bites on his nails, if it makes you happy, he would go with you.

"One deal, you have to organize these tickets and I'll go with you", he smiles apologizing. Here you are, one month later in front of your laptop since thee hours.

It's frustrating. You're not the only one with the plan to buy tickets and you need to wait. "argh!", you smash your hand on the keyboard, it could be such a happy day.

When you click to the main page, the worst nightmare came true; no tickets available. Sold out.

Of course you didn't call Lando - he would throw a party just not going to this. But for you it meant the world.

After three days Lando is worried, he was away for promotion and you were awkwardly quiet. Too quiet.

He knows the ticket sale started, you talked nonstop about it for one month straight. He's sure you got tickets, that's why he didn't bought any.

He was sure you'll get some.

Unlocking the door he steps in, ready to say hello to you with a big hug, kisses and good food.

"Hey darling", Lando steps in the kitchen and kisses your neck from behind, because you're cooking. "Hm", you mumble under anger about the world.

"Someone is in a bad mood, huh?", jokes Lando in love. You look so cute when you're grumpy.

"Shut up", you hiss in his direction under tears, bad mood is no explanation for your feelings. All hopes are gone.

"What happened?!", Lando got big eyes, shocked about your reaction. It's atypical for you. "We're not going to the Eras tour", you sob whilst holding the pan. Cooking his favorite meal. With his favorite tv show. And you're not even allowed to see your favorite artist, your biggest idol.

"I'm so sorry ", Lando steps closer and hugs you tight, "you're not!", you sob even more in his chest.

"I am", he lays his chin on your head, thinking about what he can do. He can't help with concert tickets but he can help you.

He kisses your hair, asking you randomly, "you're free thursday night?", you just nod. After this you sit down and eat the dinner without more conversations about this. But he has ideas.

Four days to get the ideas to your best night ever. He goes to shops, asks his friend to help him and learns Taylor Swift song lyrics. He ordered fan merch. It's not hard to hide from you because you have a busy time schedule at work so you're not coming home until 8pm.

"Lan-oooh!", you see glitter on the floor inside his apartment. "Lando?", you look through the open door, where you can see ballons, more glitter, different colors, colored snacks and letters on the ceiling, 'eras tour' on it. "aww how cute!", you can't believe he did it for you. A Taylor Swift themed night.

"Change into your fanciest, most glamorous dress because we're having the best night ever with Taylor", he dances like a goofball in the living room. Before you walk into your wardrobe, you walk back to Lando and kiss his lips, "i love you", thankful to have this man in your life.

He wouldn't say it loud but maybe he got two tickets. But that's a surprise for later.

[blondwhxrewrites]

✨My Stiles Stilinski Headcanons✨

Is absolutely enamored by you and he had no idea how to talk to you at first without becoming an awkward mess. When you first met him Scott literally had to pull him away from you because he just kept on staring at you

Helps you with homework and school projects because it gives him an excuse to spend time with you and he also gets to show off how smart he is

You are the only person he shares his food with

He forces you to binge-watch Star Wars with him, and if he finds out you already liked Star Wars he's ecstatic

He is a Percy Jackson reader and prefers it over Harry Potter!!!!!!!

Is always late to dates because of his time blindness but he tries hard to make it on time!

Tells you about his ongoing cases and theories and encourages you to put your input in and is extremely proud whenever one of your theories turns out to be correct

Noah of course has his reservations at first since he obviously worries about his son, but once he sees you two together he instantly loves you

You become a part of the pack almost instantly

Lydia, Malia, and Addison (depending on the season) instantly take you in. You best believe you are invited to all of the sleepovers and shopping trips

Literally, everyone has no idea how Stiles managed to bag you. Stiles has no idea either

Is a mix of sassy men apocalypse™ and golden retriever vibes

No, just because he loves you does not mean you are safe from his witty retorts or sarcastic comments

He gets you a matching metal bat so you can protect yourself

Is wary of taking you along on cases because he worries you might get hurt. He especially worries after what happened with Void

Is the little spoon most of the time because he loves being held. He feels so safe whenever he is in your arms. With you he finally doesn't wake up every night from nightmares

He has a lot of deeply rooted trauma from losing his mom, and from everything that has happened to him since sophomore year

Will talk about random nonsense and then stop in the middle of the conversation because he notices you are actually listening to him instead of just ignoring him like other people do and he swears he falls in love with you all over again 🥹

Has panic attacks, and you are one of the few people who can instantly calm him down by just being near him

Loves talking to you about his mother. He even takes you to her grave and introduces you to her

Later he finds out that you go to her grave weekly and put flowers there and when he asks you why you do that you just say 'Because you love her and that means I love her too' and he sobs.

Noah also finds that out and he instantly knows that you are the one for his son. He is proud to call you his future child in-law

Loves PDA and has no problem holding your hand, or kissing you in public

He always needs to be touching you in some sort of way even if it's just holding your hand or resting his hand on your thigh

You are so supportive of his want to be in the FBI! He loves knowing that you'll always be cheering him on

You go to every single lacrosse game and cheer him on even if he doesn't get put in you are still yelling his name and cheering for him

You wear his jersey number all the time and he secretly loves it

Make outs in the jeep

Everything in the jeep

Overall 10/10 boyfriend

[servingrobin]

Okay so speaking of your yandere question!! I’d lowkey love Yandere Sanji headcanons. Cause I feel like he’d be the super sweet never hurt you yandere, but the over protective one who’d never leave your side. He’s also get jealous if you ate at any other restaurant:( you wanna try this new cuisine in this island you landed on? He can make it better. I think he’d be adorable as one!!

Sanji would 100% be the most interesting type of yandere because you’re so right - he would be super sickly sweet about it

Warnings: split into sfw and nsfw hcs, mentions of threats/injury, manipulation, dub-con (as with all yandere), creampie, bondage, oral (f and m receiving), somnophilia, food kink

✨ requests are open ✨

SFW:

- you didn’t realise what was happening for quite a long time

- You saw how Sanji behaved with women and assumed his attention towards you was the same

- And for his part Sanji was actually quite subtle about it, he didn’t want to scare you off

- He’d buy all the girls flowers, and they all just so happened to be your favourites, same with drinks and the sweet treats he would bake for you all out on deck, his turn on washing duty left you with the fluffiest towels and softest smelling clothes (all ironed and neatly folded of course), any time you were sore or aching he’d run you a bath

- Sanji figured the easiest way to keep you forever was to make himself integral to your comfort and happiness, so that was what he did

- And he soon became the sweetest boyfriend ever, asking you on a moonlit beach surrounded by roses and chocolates

- All things considered it was no surprise you brushed off the little things that should have set alarm bells ringing

- Like how Sanji was the only one to ever prepare you food, getting extremely annoyed at anyone else offering you something to eat - it was weird but you didn’t feel controlled in terms of portions etc so just assumed it was his chefs pride

- and if you ever suggested cooking or buying food from local cuisines, damn straight Sanji could make and he could make it better, so why even bother going out with all those people when he’s got everything you need right here?

- You also brush off the way he’d stick to your side like glue any time you left the ship, holding your hand the whole way exploring, an arm around your waist

- And eventually a hand clutched around the back of your neck to guide you as you walked

- You especially didn’t notice the filthy glares Sanji would send anyone that even looked at you, keeping an aura of ‘do not approach’ around you at all times

NSFW

- sex with Sanji was always sweet, slow and passionate

- He’d make you sob in pleasure with his deft fingers and masterful tongue, bringing you to release several times before he’d even undress himself

- Get you addicted to his touch so much you’d never let him go

- So it was a big surprise when one day that changed

- Zoro had helped you after youd fallen over, grabbing you by the arm to hoist you back up- you’d thought nothing of it

- Until Sanji tied you to the bed and spent the whole night teasing you with rough pleasure, biting and nipping across your whole body, leaving blooming red for days to come

- He fucked you into oblivion, had you bent over and around like a pretzel as he rammed into you hard, fingers hooked in your mouth to keep you gasping

- Whispering “you’re all mine…no one else can have you…. This cunt is all mine…. Gonna mark you up…. Own you.” The whole time, and you weren’t sure whether you were actually supposed to have heard most of it

- Sanji usually used a condom or came across your ass but this time no protection, pounded away until he’d filled you to the brim

- He rubbed your stomach after with a satisfied grin and kissed your head as you snuggled up to sleep

- “You’d be such a good momma mon Cherie, tie us together forever” (insert Sanji heart eyes and your own heart attack here)

- You chose not to mention the times you woke up sticky, having definitely fallen asleep alone but somehow ending up with a sore pussy and splatters of pearlescent fluid dripping from your gaping hole

- You were uncomfortable but not enough to see the red flags - maybe Sanji just had a really high sex drive and was too scared to ask? That was the sort of thing you made up to make yourself feel better at least

- He’d eat you out everyday, grab at you in public in the most inappropriate ways, and become aggressively possessive when anyone went near you

- But you didn’t know any better and how could someone as romantic as Sanji ever knowingly hurt you?