#it's been seven months and it's the final part of a fic that when read with it's prequel is already 130k

[jonsaslove]

okay jonsa prayer circle. i have written over 10k for the keep our love alive finale today after not touching the fic for months.

completion is near, writer's block is over, an update is pending and the audience will finally get what it deserves.

[blingblong55]

Now that we don't talk- Simon 'Ghost' Riley

A/N: funny enough...these two drivers are no longer with the girls in these pictures. also, this is not me telling you how reader looks like

--- F!Reader, angst, established!relationship, F1 au, F1 driver!Simon, cheating ---

A/N: watched the Las Vagas shit show of a race and then got inspired....so here's this shit mess of a fic

He was the guy every girl wanted, from the teens to the older women, yet he held your hand on the red carpet at that award show. He kissed you in yachts and danced with you in galas and ballrooms. Paraded your name when he won races. You were everywhere, from tea pages, to fan-made edits and now you're here, stuck in a hotel room, waiting for him. For the past seven months, he's kept you hidden, like you were some kind of repunzel. Never to be let out of the tower unless it was by him. He had what every driver and fan wanted in their lives, fame, wealth, social status, a gorgeous and supportive girlfriend and the way he was the best at his job. 

They always say to look for the smallest of clues, that's why, all the tabloids talked about how he 'had it all'. Now, he took out the girlfriend part and added Playboy to the list. 

Three months before you and him announced your split, he sat down with you. Told you all the truths he kept from you. Your tears well up in that pretty face of yours. "I started to see other women, that was nine months ago, in Spain, that's why I told you to stay at the hotel," his eyes too teared up. It took a lot to not slap him, scream and yell at him for being such a man slut, but you needed to hear it, needed to know the truth before the internet did. He took a deep breath, "I...there's been at least ten different women, I've slept with more but...only those ten did I take to race weekends instead of you." His eyes, full of regret look at you. "When did you stop loving me?" Your question caught him off guard. "I...I think it was a year ago but I thought it was me being anxious over that whole contract thing and having to move and...I'm sorry, I shouldn't make excuses for my actions," he looks down. 

You nod, not daring to look at him anymore. "I'm sorry, R/N," his voice small. "No, I'm sorry," you respond and he looks at you confused. "What do you mean by that?" He questions you. "I'm sorry for falling in love, for being a fool and seeing myself with you for the rest of my life. I'm sorry for trusting you were sleeping alone when I wasn't there...I'm sorry I wasn't enough to make you stay...or to be patient enough and end it like a real man would," you play with your phone's edge. You look at him, finally. "Why did you keep me hidden?" He shakes his head at that question. "The times you were there, the other women were there too," he confesses and your heart stops. "...oh," your voice is small, so soft and filled with so much woe. 

"I...I guess I should go," You stand up. "I'm sorry I wasn't what you deserved, I hope you find a man who treats you like you are the universe to him, I hope he kisses you in public and I wish you happiness, I'm sorry." He stands up too and walks you to the door. 

A month later, you and him confirmed the rumour. "Formula 1 driver Simon Riley and long-time girlfriend [R/N], have announced their split on a joint social media statement." The article read. Your phone is on silent as you reread the message you put out to the world. "To the fans, it is time we confirm that we are no longer together. We have grown apart and it's time we grow up and move on to new parts of our lives. We will always love each other, together or not but our relationship has run its course. All our gratitude for the six years of acceptance, Simon and [R/N]." Your eyes glistened with sorrow as you shook your head. 

For days, you stayed indoors. Cried, looked through memories, private ones the world never saw. What did he do? He was photographed in clubs, hand on a woman's waist, drunk kisses, alcohol, tight dresses and that new title, "F1's playboy." He kept winning, getting more fame and having his name all over the world. Meanwhile, you walk the streets alone. You were there for when he was accepted in F3 and when he moved to F2, even were the shoulder he leaned on all the years he waited to become an F1 driver.  

His bed was never the same, neither was his flat. It was no longer cosy, no longer comforting after a bad or long day. His bed missed the warmth of it. His lips missed the consistent pecks after he gave you a pouty lip when you denied staying up late on race day. What did he miss the most? You, all of you and that was soon to be shown. That Playboy facade was for show, inside, all he wanted was to stop being seen with so many women. He wanted one and quickly, his team noticed. He stopped showing up at parties, and clubs and stopped talking to all the women who weren't there for official business or if they weren't a fan who asked for an autograph or picture. 

That mask only stayed on for eight months, thirteen days and four hours. He stopped showing off his wealth, dressed in only team attire, comfy clothes, or in suits and ties. His bed was empty most nights, his right cheek was no longer stained with the red lipstick you left at every little accomplishment he made. He fixed his image and unfollowed any woman who wasn't important in his career, except one, you. 

And as he did this, all you saw were the old tabloids. Him all over women. You dated off the light the media gave you, you kept your nights away from sight, fixed and resolved all your problems and then, by some cruel mistake, you saw him. Jogging by your place. For some twisted way, your heartbeat fastened. It brought you back to when you'd time him before the season started. That's where the kiss on the right cheek came from. A towel-dried that side of his face, just so you could kiss it. This happened all through your relationship. And, on some Wednesday, a friend invited you to attend the last race of the season. 

You attended, not just because of the invite but because it was a promise. "When I win most if not all races I want you to go, be waiting for me, look up to the podium because my love, that entire season will be yours," he, one night whispered to you. And there you were, in that garage, wearing a hat, his number on it as you watched the qualification. The cameras awaited to capture you and him kissing, but none of that happened, not even a glance from you to him. 

"Riley takes pole, all eyes on him to see if he breaks yet another record," the commentator said. And as he sat there, he thought of you. The good luck kiss, the pat on his helmet before any race. And holding hands when walking to the paddock. It was a ritual, something he held holy to him. If only he could prove he is the man you now deserve if he could get out of his car, run to you and confess a speech he memorised. The one that said all the truth, the one in which he tells you that just in your first year being together, he had a ring picked out, the same one he kept in every coat for when the time was right. And there was that mistake, one fatal one that cost him his Mrs. Riley. Every single second was the right time, every stare, every kiss, every laugh, the whispers, the running from the cameras, it was always you, it was always the right time when with you. 

Simon Riley, world champion, world record breaker, the man every driver wants to be this year, now claiming every single race of that season as he walked to that podium. And, in a crowd of friends, teammates, fans and cameras, he looked for you. National anthems played and as he was about to lose hope, he saw you there, the spot he told you to stand in for when the day came. You look up, and the cameras pan to you and him. That stare, oh that stare that spoke the romance no other book or poet could explain. His smile widened, gaze softened when he noticed you cried. Proud of the man who made his dreams come true. 

Maybe you weren't there for all the days he drove but that engagement ring, that symbolised you, was there for all of them. You give him a nod and his smile widens.

"I'll do it, I swear one day, I'll be added to the list of legends who came before me and when I do, I need you there, my love," he kissed you. "And when I do, you nod at me, that's how I'll know you are proud of me," he whispered. 

As the night came to an end, the photos, flashes, and signatures, all rushed to come and find you. He needed his right cheek kissed and maybe this time it wouldn't be his lips but to just feel you next to him, that fed him enough. He spotted you and as he ran to you, he stopped in his tracks. 

One month, two days and three hours. That is how late he was to you. His gaze was now filled with tears as he saw you hold another hand. A woman, looking for nothing but sex approached him and he declined. "Why not?" She questioned him. "I have a fiancé," he said coldly and moved away from her. He looked down, at a paper, written by his poetic hand, a small box, made by him with the help of some carpenter, all gripped as he swore he would not give up. Not ever, especially when he knows that in this life, he was meant for one woman. Maybe he did fuck up, maybe he will be forever alone but to know that for one second he held you in his arms, that was enough. 

He nodded and sighed, "Is it over now?" he thought. "No," your heart would've responded for you. As he turns and walks away, you look back and you notice that box. Your heart...oh that tingle that makes you feel alive. Maybe it was all in his head, maybe he wasn't late...maybe. "Simon!" you called out, the crowd too loud for him to hear you. Your friend lets go of your hand. "Simon!" you move through the crowds. "Simon, stop!" You push and run. Adrenaline, maybe not like the one he has after every race but it's still something. He walks away, getting into a car and looking at that piece of paper. 

No one heard of him for months. No one heard of you for months. 

My love, my R/N, I made a mistake. Not cheating but one that is worse, pretending I didn't call you my wife to everyone else. A vow I made in my head, a wedding night I planned one night as we made love. Truth is, no, I didn't cheat. No, I didn't sleep with anyone when I was with you. What happened was, I noticed it. I noticed how you paused your life for mine, how you took care of me, how you made sure I ate healthy, slept enough, and got used to different time zones, all whilst giving your life no attention. I was 17 when we first met, you and I, an accidental 'Hi' one that gave me the privilege of falling in love with the woman who knows me better than anyone else. I've known you for a decade now, loved you for nine of those years, and made you my girlfriend for five of them. I wore that title with pride. By the way, didn't you ever question why everyone called you my wife or Mrs. Riley? Funny how you didn't even ask me about it. I admit, I was only at those clubs looking for you, I didn't drink but pretended to, I kissed their cheeks, made it look like I kissed their lips. In my head, I was married. I am married. Called you my little wife when you patted my helmet to the mechanics, they laughed. I did sleep with other women, I confess to that but I didn't kiss them, didn't care for their pleasure, not when I promised it was your pleasure...just yours that mattered to me. Did you keep my locket? I hope you did, if not...it's fine, we'll find a new one and start fresh. I know you are wondering, why I can't let you talk as I give this speech and I know you are crying, your lips quiver as I confess. It's a reason why I haven't looked up from this piece of paper. I can't see you cry, you know that. I am begging, begging as an imbecile, to have you again. To prove that I never cheated, I lied about doing it but never did. You'd think I'd be crazy to cheat on a crazy girl like you? Baby, that was a joke, although...you are a little crazy but I still love you. I love you...yeah...yeah, I do. I know you are asking, when will this stupid man stop talking and it's now. Well, wait...just let me say this. Marry me, marry me so I don't have to pretend anymore. So...please, be kind to my bastard heart and marry me.

A/N: you know well a Kasper fic isn't a Kasper angst fic if it doesn't end in a 'but are they together? did he die? did she die?' way

Join my tag list

Tags:

@liyanahelena @actuallyhiswife @sexuallyfrustatedbitch @rosecastiello @ghostslillady @urmom-747 @aethelwyneleigh27 @girl-of-multi-fandoms @tomiesdiet @graesage @chasreads @asteria1103 @tgirljeep388 @call-me-a-fool

[thedroneranger]

Buzzing Romance

Robert "Bob" Floyd

Synopsis: You and Bob have always vibed, and now it's time for this budding romance to blossom.

Note: Hi, friends! I know I've been MIA around these parts. And I hate it, but priorities. Anywho, I wanted to stop by, drop this little gift and say happy Valentine's Day! And say thank you to those who continue to message, chat, tag and send asks 🖤 This fic is a companion to Vibe Check and Sending Vibes. Reading one or both will provide additional context but isn't mandatory. Enjoy!

Warnings: 18+ only, fluffy but sex toys.

Word count: 1.1k

Bob wanted tonight to be perfect. Along with dinner at a steakhouse you’d been jonesing to try, he had a beautiful bouquet of roses to give you. 

Ever the perfectionist, Bob had called his florist friend, Riley. Since Bob always made sure Riley was on the shortlist for any local Navy events, he had an open line of favors ready for redemption.  

A few days later, Bob spent over an hour in Riley’s shop, before she opened at seven in the morning, handpicking the biggest, reddest roses.

Later after work at home, Bob spent another 30 minutes adding the final touch. A 25th rose that would never die—as long as you kept it charged. He wanted to confirm that not even a petal was out of place, and the rose-shaped vibrator was well hidden so you didn’t notice at first glance. 

Meanwhile, you were at your place—a rare occasion on its own. However, you were also giddy to get glammed up and go out on a real date with Bob. The thought made you laugh. 

It was clear you and Bob were in this for the long haul, but nothing about your relationship was traditional. You’d been seeing each other exclusively—a mutual decision—for nearly a year but had yet to formally define the relationship. 

Hell, you were still discovering new things about one another. Barely a month ago, Bob found out about your culinary skills when you cooked him his favorite meal as a welcome home surprise. 

The same night he also saw you in something other than an oversized Naval Academy t-shirt for the first time. You thought Bob’s eyes might bulge out of his head when you donned a sheer nude bra and panty set embroidered with the most delicate flowers.

You were hoping Bob would have a similar reaction tonight when he saw you dressed up for something other than a work-related gala. Your gala gowns were always striking but also conservative since you were among colleagues and leadership. Secretly, you hoped Bob fantasized about what was under your garb during galas as much as you fantasized about what was under his dress uniform. 

Your phone shook you from your fantasies. Bob messaged to check that a 6:45 pickup left you plenty of time to get ready. After responding, you put your phone back on the bathroom counter to inspect your face one more time before going to your room to put on your outfit. 

Bob was having nearly the exact same thoughts about your relationship, firsts and fantasies as he stood in front of the mirror, deciding which switch shirt to pair with his slim-cut gray suit. It felt cliche, given the holiday, but he decided to go with a soft pink shirt. One last check of his carefully styled hair, and then Bob was sliding into his two-door 90s Silverado. 

Fifteen minutes later, Bob rolled to a stop in front of your rental. Flowers in hand, he strode to the front door. He poked the doorbell and waited. 

You didn’t even bother to look before you flung the door open. “Hi,” you sweetly greeted him. He nearly dropped the bouquet. Bob couldn’t help but let his gaze roam over your body. 

The sheer bodice and the low sweetheart neckline of your top had him reminiscing about his first night home from his last deployment. The silk high-waisted midi skirt and strappy heels you paired it with were the perfect compliment.

Remembering he was standing on your doorstep, Bob’s wits came about him. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you.” You chuckled. There was no way Bob’s cheeks weren’t as red as the flowers in his hand. 

“These are for you!” He gently held the bouquet out. 

Your face lit up as you used both hands to take it. “These are gorgeous! Do I have time to put them in water?”

“Of course.” Bob smiled. “I’ll get the door.” You thanked him and turned to go inside. He closed the front door and trailed you into your kitchen. 

“Here.” You gave him the bouquet back as you reached into the top of a cabinet to get a vase. While your back was turned, he adjusted the vibrator to be a smidge more obvious. “Come.” You waved a hand from him to join you at the sink. 

While the vase filled with water, you grabbed some scissors, and then turned off the faucet. Then you pulled a rose from the bunch to snip the bottom. “These are gorgeous, Bob.”

His smile widened. “I hand picked them.” You stopped to look at him in disbelief. He shrugged. You smirked as you grabbed another rose and trimmed the end before placing it in the vase. Bob watched as you continued to pick roses and diagonally trim the ends. 

Then, you saw it. You froze and looked at Bob. He was smirking. Your expression morphed to mirror his as you unearthed the rose-shaped vibrator. Your eyes flitted between him and the toy. 

“It’s kinda our thing, isn’t it?” He said with a wink. Bob placed what was left of the uncut bouquet on the counter. You also sat the vibrator there, and then wrapped your arms around his neck. His hands came to rest on your hips as he looked at you. 

“You never cease to amaze me, Bobby.” Your gazes were locked. Your fingers brushed the short hairs at the back of his neck. 

“I have to admit my intentions aren’t purely altruistic.”

“Oh?” Your eyebrow arched as he began to slightly sway you as if music were playing.

“I want to take my girlfriend to dinner.” Bob stopped moving and let his hands wander to the small of your back to pull you closer.

You bit your lip to cull the smile involuntarily pulling the corners of your mouth. “I would love for my boyfriend to take me to dinner.” You could feel the excitement in Bob’s embrace. “And afterward, I hope he’s willing to test out the gift he bought me.”

Bob’s face lit up with both a smile and rosy cheeks. He gladly accepted your lips against his and let his hand drop to cup your backside. You caught him off guard by nipping his lip when he gave you a squeeze. “Let’s skip dinner. I want to go straight to dessert,” he stated. You giggled as you uncoiled your arms from his neck and let a hand come to rest on his chest.

With a playful eye roll, you turned to the counter and finished trimming the roses. Patiently, Bob watched you situate the blooms. When you were done, you took the vase to the living room and sat it in the middle of the coffee table. While you admired your bouquet, Bob went to the bedroom to leave a single rose on the nightstand—ready to keep your romance buzzing.

Visit my masterlist for more | Sign up for my tag list!

A kind reminder: Likes work hard, but reblogs and comments work harder 😈

Tag list: @cherrycola27 @roosterforme @taytaylala12 @galaxy-of-stories @awildewit @shanimallina87 @malindacath @violyn20 @djs8891 @linkpk88 @furiousladyking @daggerspare-standingby @princess76179 @jstarr86 @blue-aconite @hecate-steps-on-me @darkheartcherry @soulmates8 @roosters-girl @dempy @desert-fern @roosterisdaddy36 @hangmanscoming @mavrellover91 @s-u-t @averyhotchner @penguin876 @kmc1989 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @seitmai @abaker74 @startrekfangirl2233 @dakotakazansky @beyondthesefourwalls @bradshawsprincess @damrlova @mamachasesmayhem @hangmansgbaby @sweetwhispersofchaos @bellaireland1981 @fanboyswhore9 @hardballoonlove @catsandbooksandstuff @mygyn

[the-common-cowgirl]

Greater of Two Evils

Summary: Your brother is a powerful man and so is Aemond Targaryen. You’re caught as a pawn between the two men. You have to chose between two evils and unfortunately for you, you chose wrong.

Rating: Explicit, Minors Do NOT Read, 18+

Word Count: 4.3k

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: DD;DNE, Non-Con/Dub-Con, Choking, Rough Sex, smut (p in v, fingering, oral sex (f receiving) jealousy , possessiveness, incest-y vibes from brother, unwanted creampie, breeding kink, coercion, mentions of birth control/emergency contraception not being allowed/available to reader, Aemond wants reader pregnant, men being dicks, degration, praise, Capitalism and the Elite, swearing

A/N: This is a spite fic dedicated my first hate comment. I hope you wait even longer now. 💋

Not yet proofread.

Your brother was a powerful man. One of the most powerful in Westeros. Many say he didn’t deserve his position, both of you coming from near nothing, but your brother was born with a gift your parents would often say was a “creative and hungry mind.” He was 10 years old when he started a small lawn care business in the Riverlands that grew to a full-fledged company at 14 he (and your parents due to his age) ran. At 16, he sold that company, got an internship at River’s Corp. When he freshly graduated University in Oldtown as the top of his class, giving a speech that would be remembered as one of the best speeches Oldtown Univeristy had ever the opportunity of hearing, he asked if you would like to move to Dorne with him, get out of the Riverlands and have an opportunity at Sunspear University. Seeing the chance at freedom and knowing your brother would most likely be paying for your schooling (since he had just been offered a high ranking position at Sunspear Industries) you took his offer and moved in with him a week after you graduated high school in the Riverlands.

That was three years ago. Your brother is now CFO of Rhoynar Industries and you’re in your third year of University at Sunspear studying Political Science. When you first moved in with your brother, the first two months were happy and spent everyday in your high-rise apartment’s swimming pool. But your brother had changed, or maybe, he was finally able to let his true self free during his college days as many young adults often do and his personality shift just took you longer to notice. His controlling behavior started innocent, nagging at your to keep the house tidy, then turning into commenting on what you wore out, turning into full blown comments about your appearance, weight, hair color. He made you dye your hair color black, to match his own natural color. Long gone were your auburn waves but you didn’t notice it then, well you did, but you weren’t as disturbed by it. Telling yourself he wanted you to look the part of perfect sister.

But then, halfway through your first semester, he told you that your Early Education major wasn’t good enough for him. He demanded you change it and when you tried to argue, he simply took your laptop, reminding that he bought it, and emailed your academic advisor that you’d like to change your major and wanted to meet with them first thing tomorrow morning.

That should’ve been the straw that broke the camel’s back, you should’ve left that night. Packed your things and went back home to the Riverlands; be with your parents.

I’m every aspect of your life, you always fell short of the greatness of your brother: courage was not exempt.

That next morning, you went with puffy eyes to your advisor’s office and changed your major, dropping out of your current courses and signing up for secondary 8-week courses for your new major that would, in your brother’s words “thankfully start next week.”

You could easily summarize your life in Dorne these past few years: the Seven Hells.

All of this leads you to this moment. Your brother and you were invited to King’s Landing by the head of Targ Corp for an annual celebration they held for their most loyal alliance corporations. It was easy, your brother and his team of associate executives played a simple game: play nice with each other and keep everyone else from rising above. Being around these people made you want to vomit. These posh-assholes were some of the most dangerous and hateful people you’d ever laid eyes on, all wrapped in clothing that were one of their low-level employee’s entirely yearly salary. You didn’t want to be here, not a single bit, but your brother held the carrot stick of Univeristy tuition and free-housing over your head so you played along like the good sister you were expected to be.

You had just gotten out of the shower when you brother came barging into your hotel room without knocking, holding a garment bag.

“Hey!” You shouted, covering your naked self with a towel, “Can you knock next time?” You briefly wondered how he had gotten in, you made sure you locked it twice, then you saw the keycard he had kept for your room sliding back into his pant pocket.

“Wear this tonight,” he disregarded your fluster and laid the garment bag down on the bed you were sitting on.

Your brows furrowed, looking at your own brother with trepidation. He knew you had brought one of the black dresses you had picked out a month ago and he had agreed to it then. Why had he changed his mind so suddenly?

You slowly opened the bag to reveal a dark green, dress that showed off entirely too much skin than you were comfortable with around these vampires.

You began to shake your head, “No, I don’t want to wear this one. It’s cold out and I want to wear the black, long sleeve one I-“

You were cut off with a harsh hand grabbing your jaw.

“Wear it or we’ll see how long you can pay for that expensive schooling on your own.” He spat into your face harshly.

Once he let go, you brought your hand up to rub at your jaw where there might be bruises now. Your skin was sore and your bone ached. “You know what, maybe I don’t want to even get this degree. Maybe I’ll move back in with mom and dad and just fucking live my own life again.”

As you sat on the bed angrily with tears of resentment brimming your eyes, you could feel your brother’s stare on you, boring holes into everything he deemed imperfect about you.

“Do this for me,” his voice was softer, “And I’ll give you anything you want.”

You finally looked up to him, disbelief in your eyes.

He kneeled to reach your eye level, you wrapped the towel around you tighter, “There is a man here I need you to impress. Do this for me and I’ll give you anything you want. I mean it.” His hand came up to brush your nude knee, you moved away instinctively.

You swallowed your unease. “What’s his name?” Your voice was so small.

He smiled at your acceptance, if you willing to work with him on something, if you giving in. “Aemond Targaryen,” he stood, returning to his business-like self. “He’s the son of the CEO, Visery’s. Aemond is a year older than me and he’s in politics. We-“ he paused, smiling at a memory, “We met in University…..He never really liked me.” He looked to you, “He’s the last legislator we need on our side for this deal that Roynar Industries and Targ Corp. are working up.”

“He’s against Targ. Corp?” You sounded flabbergasted, wondering why a Targaryen, the most infamously loyal family in the country, is an against his family’s own interests.

Your brother nodded and laughed, “Yeah, he fucking hates his dad.” He chuckled to himself some more before, “I just need you to win him to my side.”

You heard the implication and you skin began to crawl, stomach turning, “You seriously want me to fuck him?”

Your brother shook his head and chuckled as if you were crazy, “Just win him to our side.” He walked up to you again, towering over you as you sat, uneasily at the edge of the bed. He raised a hand and tapped the side of your head three times, “Use that political science knowledge I paid for.”

And then he left, making you feel like a tool.

You dressed yourself in the green gown, put on simple yet elegant makeup, and wore your dyed black hair up with a silver sun pin that your brother had picked out in his words, “to honor Roynar Industries.” You only felt branded.

Making your way down into the large event room of the hotel in which Targ Corp had set up for the celebration, you were handed a glass of something in a flute glass. The waiter had told you, in truth, but you were too nervous and occupied with looking elegant that you hadn’t really heard.

You spotted your brother across the event space standing with someone Martel from Roynar Industries that has offered for you to go ride on his yacht with him at least three times. Then you could see he was with some silver haired man, probably from Targ Corp. The Targaryens were known for their loyalty, ruthlessness and silver hair. Targ Corp. was the most powerful company in Westeros, they had their hand in everything and could turn anyone’s head the way they wanted. Coming it second was Roynar Industries and the old saying, “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” was prevalent in the relationship with the two corporations. They worked together in most large projects in Westeros and you knew the each of them was waiting for the other to fall.

You walked the perimeter of the event, scanning the crowd for someone you knew or the person you were after. Although, you had heard Aemond Targaryen’s name before you had no idea what he looked like. You used your context clues though and assumed he had silver hair, he was probably tall and lean like all Targaryen men are and most likely flirtatious.

“Great,” you breathe, remembering a girl from Sunspear a few years ago that recalled a horrible relationship with an older man by the name of “Aegon Targaryen.” One in which he not only expected sex from her, he cheated when she refused. You briefly wondered how Aemond was related to this Aegon.

“Are you looking for me?” A deep, soft voice sounded beside your ear. You stopped dead in you tracks and turned like a scared bunny to the stranger.

The stranger. The silver haired stranger who checked nearly all your boxes for the stranger you were searching for. Had he been right?

You gathered your composure quickly, “And you are?”

“I’m assuming the man you’re looking for if you’re his sister,” he pointed behind you to your brother who was not chatting up a dark haired lady and a curly haired man with a cane.

You gave a quick, nervous laugh and stuck out your hand, “Nice to meet you, Aemond. I’m Y/N.”

Aemond looked down at your outstretched hand between the two of you, his his eye flicked up to you. You realized then, only one moved, however, the other, the one that intercepts his scar, is quite realistic. He ran his fingers slowly across your palm before grasping it gently but not shaking. The act was sensual and strange, you tried to pull away but he quickly snaked his hand up your arm and wrapped his large hand around your bicep, pulling you closer to him. He leaned in, “Aren’t you tired of being a pawn for your brother?”

You pulled back to look at him square in the face, at his perfect, angular face that was so sharp. “What the fuck do you mean?” You whispered, wondering what all he knew and how.

“I think you know exactly what I mean.” He whispered into your ear. If you had not been in the edge of the event, you two would be quite a spectacle to behold but someone, this man, this stranger, had planned this. He had to. You were both in the shadows, the outskirts, not to be seen unless looked for and Gods, you hoped someone would look for you. He made you uneasy, uncomfortable, and warm in places you shouldn’t be given the circumstance of your situation. He looked down to your cleavage, “Tell me, did he pick out this dress? This color?”

You furrowed your brows, trying to figure out how Aemond knew this. “Wha-“

“Did he tell you that him and his colleagues have a bet if we’ll fuck tonight or not?”

You looked back to your brother who was laughing with some of his associates from Roynar Industries. “How do you-“

“I have eyes and ears everywhere, I’m two steps ahead of him and always have been. He has such a problem being number two doesn’t he?” His voice was thick with hatred and his grip on your arm was bruising.

“Get the fuck off of me!” You just about screamed, pushing from Aemond. He let go and took a step back, look at you up and down. He resembled a wild predator, maybe that’s what he was. You smoothed your dress, “Fuck you, you stupid bitch,” you spat angrily, adjusting a strap of your dress. “I was just told to be friendly with you. I’m not a sex worker you ass! I wouldn’t fuck you in a million years.” You downed the alcoholic liquid in the glass before setting it on the ground at your feet. Aemond only watched you with a newfound amusement. It made you angrier. “I’m only helping my brother out until I graduate then it’s fuck this place, fuck Westeros and most of all….” You looked him up and down, finally realizing that he was goddamn handsome, dangerously so, if his personality wasn’t so off-putting, “fuck you.”

You stormed away before he could say anything back. You didn’t want to be here anymore, you wanted to return to your room and cry into your pillow until you fell asleep. You were angry and hurt. How could your brother set you up like this? How could a complete stranger be so fucking brash and horrible? How could you be so stupid to believe your brother’s hunger for power would never come to this? Setting you up for his own benefit?

You’re certain your brother saw you in your way out of the venue, he always has tabs on you, but you knew he wouldn’t rush to your aid or to scrutinize you in front of people he wanted to look good for.

You slam your hotel room door and sink against it, hands over your face, crying on the floor. You sit like that for some time before a knock vibrates against your back and rings in your ears.

“Go away,” you try to say through sobs.

The knock comes again.

“I said go away!” Your shout this time is uncomely for a young woman you could hear your brother say in your head but you don’t care.

“It’s Aemond,” come the voice from the other side of the door.

The raises a fire in your heart as you angrily fling the door open to see the posh, pissy man from before. Mascara is running down your cheeks and your hair is falling out of its updo but you don’t care. “Go away,” you remind him dangerously, beginning to slam the door he puts his foot in the way and hand stopping you from breaking his foot ever so casually.

He pushes the door open with ease and steps into the room, making you step back and further. “We both have a problem and I’m here to propose a deal.”

Your brow quirks and your arms cross, “A deal?”

“A deal,” he echos. “I propose that you and I team up, I’ll offer you whatever he did, you offer me information to take your brother down and out.” He takes another step toward you and you take a step back in response, feeling the back of your legs hit the bedside.

“Why would I agree to that? I’m already getting my college paid for and a place to stay during. Why would I agree to everything I have in turn for you to ruin my brother? He’s horrible but I still love him.” You shook your head, “He’s done a lot for me-“

“I can offer more.” He moved in closer, making you lean uncomfortably against the bed.

“I don’t know you-“

“I will offer you more. You can get to know me, we can form a partnership. A friendship you could call it.” His voice was suggestive.

“Your offer of more is a friendship? I don’t need-“

“I can fuck you, can he?”

His words slapped you across the face. “What?” You mumbled like a dumb baby, confused and shocked. Maybe a little turned on.

Aemond brought his hands up your side and pushed you down to sit on the bed, he kneeled down and kissed the inside of your knee. Everything felt so wrong but he looked so goddamn handsome, you wanted it even if you said you wouldn’t fuck him.

“They have a bet, they want us to fuck.” He explained, “Let’s do it, prove we are into each other. You feed me information on him and the legalities of Roynar Industries.” He kissed your other thigh, you leaned back slightly involuntarily, it had been so long since a man had touched you, your brother wouldn’t allow you to date. “And I’ll slowly give you an out.”

Your breath hitched as his long, slender hand reached under your silky dress and trailed its way toward your core. “Slowly?” You questioned him breathlessly as his his thumb found your clothed clit on contact and began working against it. You could feel wetness pooling as he worked you open and your thighs began to move accommodate him as he moved closer and his other hand slid the dress higher and higher.

“Yeah sweetling, it’ll start with dates, then you staying at my flat in King’s Landing, then moving in.” Your dress was high enough to show off the lacy, black panties you wore and Aemond groaned, making you clench and buck your hips up to meet his ministrations.

“Sounds-sound like,” you were breathless and drunk on the attention he was giving you, “you want more than a fucking spy.” You fully laid back and lifted your hips so Aemond could pull your panties down your legs and off.

He ran a dexterous finger though your folds and watched it disappear into you with ease as you moaned. “Yeah maybe,” his voice was husky, “maybe I like putting your brother in his place. Second to Aemond fucking Targaryen. Always has been, always will be.”

He added a second finger, moving dangerously against your g-spot and the coil in your lower abdomen began to tighten. You lifted your back off the bed in a silent scream as he added a third finger and his mouth sucking at your clit. The intense and sudden pleasure gave way to a sharp, nearly painful orgasm and Aemond fucked you right through it.

When the wave of pressure came down, Aemond lapped at the wetness he expelled from you on your cunt and on his own fingers, moaning at the taste.

You laid on your back, trying to regain your senses and trying to remind yourself you were fucking a complete stranger, you should stop here before it was too late but you snapped out of your senses as he rose, half nude already and unzipping his black dress pants, pulling them and his underwear off in one swipe to reveal the longest, thickest cock you’d ever seen. The idea of taking such a thing inside you made you nearly swell with pride and excitement at the opportunity.

Aemond saw the look on your face and gave his hard cock a quick stroke. “Are you on birth control?”

You shook your head, “He wouldn’t let me, said the side effects are too dang-“

“Well I don’t have a condom,” he said, climbing atop you and pushing you up the bed, not giving you a choice, another reason to get the fuck out now. “I’m clean,” he offered before biting your collarbone then kissing the bite mark.

“I’m-I’m clean.” The voices in your head telling you to get out now.

He moved to the other side of your head and kissed your neck sensually, “You want me to fuck you raw?” Practically growling into your artery as he thrust the tip of his hard cock to your clit, making it harder and harder to say no.

“Uh, just, uh, pull out?” You squeaked as he did it again. You just wanted the fucking thing in you already, stretching you out in the way you wanted.

You felt his smile against your skin, “sure thing sweetling,” it sounded unconvincing.

You felt the tip breach you slowly then push forward even slower. Aemond raised to watch himself split you apart, groaning as you pussy sucked him in with a need unknown to you.

When he finally bottomed out, jutting painfully against your cervix he gave you a sound to adjust and gods, was he fucking endowed. You felt his cock throbbing with need and you wanted to please him, to let him know you were worthy so you bucked you hips against his and let out a moan at how fucking full you felt.

He only chuckled darkly and began his rough assault on your cunt. Pounding without warning or abandon into your heat, pushing your thighs to your chest and bending you in half, positioning you in a way that had him hitting your spot over and over until were moaning his name and your pussy began to flutter.

“Slow-slow down,” you pleaded, it felt like too much.

“Oh, poor little sister can’t fucking take it?” He once slammed extra hard after his demeaning question, it made you shriek. “Poor baby,” he wiped a tear forming in your eye with a sarcastic worry. “She played with the big dogs and didn’t know what she’s in for-“ he grunted, “you should be lucky I’m not fucking you in the ass.”

He pulled your dress down, ripping the shoulder straps to reveal you tits. Smiling like a wild man, he grasped them both harshly before sticking his tongue out and licking each nipple back and forth, making you squirm and tighten around him. “Fuck,” he groaned.

Then, as if a lightbulb went off, he pulled out and flipped you over, pulling you to your knees and ripping your dress and destroyed bra from your body. He entered you harshly again and pulled your back to his chest. His mouth on your ear, nibbling then biting, “I need to make you mine. Announce your brother who you belong to- who owns you now.”

His hand traveled down your belly to the bulge of his cock outlined in your lower stomach. “Do you feel me? Do you feel me up there? Feel me practically in your womb?”

You could, it was painful the way he bullied your cervix but the way he pleasured your sweet spot made you clench and fight off an orgasm that waited to burst.

He laughed into your ear, “Fuck, cum on this cock, I know you need to. Come on me and I’ll give you what you need.”

What the fuck did he mean what you need?

But that didn’t matter, he brought his hand to play with your clot as his pounding continued and you couldn’t fight off the orgasm anymore. Your body tightened and the coil snapped, pulsing around his cock, milking it, you screamed his named and he pinched your nipples as you came on his cock.

I’m your haze, he slowly let you fall to to bed as your ass remained up, his hands firmly handing you in place. “Such a good girl. A better girl than I’d thought you’d be. Oh, a perfect girl for me.” His pounding was relentless as he chase his own high.

You barely registered him saying, “Oh gods, we’ll be perfect together,” before you felt him still behind you, then the pulsing of his cock as warmth flooded you. He let out a groan, a triumphant groan, as he came inside you.

A shaking sob left you as you realized you’d been tricked, betrayed again, used again.

He stayed inside you for some time before pulling his softened cock out and putting on his clothes. You collapsed onto the bed, feeling the evidence of his orgasm slowly slide from your body. You grabbing the pillow ahead of you and hid your face in it. That was, until you felt his hand caress your nude back and the bed shift with the weight of him sitting beside you.

“Hey sweetheart, it’s okay. Don’t cry. I need to know you’re gonna remember our agreement.”

You furrowed your brows, “Fuck you, there is no agreement anymore. You lied to me.”

Aemond chuckled and pushed a strand of hair from your face, “Think of it as the lesser of two evils. Marry me and have everything you’d ever wanted or keep being a pawn for your brother.”

“You’re nuts if you think I’d marry you after a single fuck.”

He looked back down to your thighs, where his seed slowly seeped out, then back to you with a smug grin. “I think your brother would kill you if it was all over the press that you suddenly fell pregnant and unwed. We all know he’s a religious freak now.”

You furrowed your brows, “I’m buying emergency contraceptive as soon as you leave this room.”

He chuckled, “I’m not leaving then.”

“Who said I’ll get pregnant anyway?” You were angry, so angry you couldn’t make sense of his hand sneaking up your neck, holding it tightly.

“My father owns the press. If they say you are, then you are. Imagine what your mother would think, your father? Oh, your reputation would be ruined and your brother would be embarrassed of you.” He grit through his teeth, “And I’ll have people watch you, I already do. They give me updates, they follow you, they’ll know, I’ll know if you are. And then,” he let go of your neck, “You won’t have a choice. I won’t give you one.”

“You’re a fucking psycho.”

He chuckled, running his fingers along your arm, “I’m the easy choice. I’ll give you everything, just give me yourself.”

[bishopsbeloved]

the art of falling in love (part four)

natasha romanoff x fem reader

best friend!yelena belova, aroace!yelena belova, internalised homophobia, found family trope, coming of age, angst, fluff (eventual happy ending)

part one | part two | part three | part four (4k words) | part five | epilogue

read this fic on ao3!

Natalia Romanova has lived her whole life in maybes.

When she was five years old and first banished to an orphanage in a far vast snowy corner of Russia, she thought to herself, okay. Maybe this will be the place that I find my forever family. Surely no place can be worse than that which I have come from. But the other girls she lived with were taller and crueler, and almost a year passed before a certain scraggly blonde rascal stumbled into sharing a room with her. Without hesitation she began causing havoc for every single resident. Natalia liked her immediately. It was not long before the two would share a bed at night and call one another sister.

Maybe I was right, Natalia would think to herself sleepily, as she and tiny Yelena huddled together beneath a duvet to survive the cold winter nights. Maybe this is my forever family.

It only took one day for that to fall apart for her, though. It hadn’t even occurred to her that someone might adopt Yelena without her too, or vice versa. And when that happened, and Yelena was torn away, she was at a loss.

“Не волнуйся,” Yelena reassured her as she sped around their tiny bedroom, gathering her many trinkets and treasures into a bag. “It’s okay. My mama and papa, they are very lovely, they promise they will come back for you. We will be a family together, in America. A new start. Together.” She held out a pinky earnestly.

“Together,” Natalia repeated, sealing the deal.

But two years after Yelena’s departure, she began to wonder if maybe her sister had been wrong.

She still can’t remember much of the day that they finally, finally came back for her. She was eight, and you and Yelena were both seven. Of course, she didn’t know you even existed at first — not until the long journey back, gazing down at the motherland below them as they left it behind, when Yelena babbled endlessly about her new best friend she’d made in Ohio. She doesn’t remember much of that, either — the whole day felt too perfect to be real. It’s all a blur. But still to this day, proudly framed by Alexi and hung above the fireplace, are the photos he took the day she came home.

Only a week into her life in Ohio did she ask her mother if she could change her name. Natalia Romanova was too difficult for Americans to pronounce, and it didn’t feel American. It felt as though it were just another of countless things that screamed I don’t belong. Maybe it would help her feel more acclimated to her new home. And when she worded it like that, who was Melina to deny her? So Natalia Romanova became Natasha Romanoff. You barely even batted an eyelid when the news reached you, and she’d often catch herself smiling when you went out of your way to use her full name in any situation you could.

Although it feels as though she’s loved you forever, it’s true that she was wary of you at first. That fateful moment she first met you, you came tearing into her new home to spend time with her sister and she was scared you’d take her away — but you didn’t. You shared her. And as time went on you began to share parts of yourself with Nat, too.

She’ll remember the day you won her over until her dying breath. December 3 — almost six months since she first moved to Ohio, and her first birthday there. You’d stayed over the night before, as you often did even then, and in the morning you approached her with wide adoring eyes and something clasped carefully in your hands.

“Natasha,” you began, with a slight tremor in your voice, “um, it is your birthday, obviously,” you glanced over at the gaudy banners Alexi had strung proudly around the house in declaration of this fact, “and, uhm, I know we haven’t known each other super long, or anything, but, yeah,” you finished lamely, and held out your hands to her, opening them up. “I found this super cool rock. Alexi helped me clean it. It’s pink.”

It was super cool, Natasha decided. Pink had become her favourite colour as of late — ever since she’d learnt that in America it’s for girls. She looked from the sparkly rock to your earnest, hopeful face and back again, and decided then and there that she loved you. (And maybe you even loved her back.)

The nature of said love did not make itself known to her for a good few years; even before it did, she made her best efforts to dismiss it, though. She very quickly learnt just how American girls were supposed to be — which did not include bright blue hair, or a desire to kiss other girls. Within just a few days of starting public school Natasha had bleached the dye from her hair, quashed down any potential interest in Daphne from Scooby Doo, and at night would carefully practise the American way of pronouncing words in the mirror — without her gentle Russian tinge. She tacked up posters of male pop stars in her room, and began to strategically pick which boys in her class she’d be crushing on next. Maybe, just maybe, if she kept all of this up then she’d be able to fit into her surroundings the way she was somehow never able to in the orphanage.

And for the most part, she did. She found herself becoming one of the most popular girls in class. She’d discovered that actually she was very good at fitting in, as long as she paid enough attention to everyone else. And she felt good about herself — as long as she didn’t pay attention to you and Yelena, who were entirely unbothered by the social norms she adhered so much to, and seemed a whole lot better off for it. It was entirely uncool to be so close with your sister. Her annoying little sister, and her quiet lovely best friend. Yes, as long as she avoided the two of you wherever she could, she’d be fine.

That’s how the years passed, for a long time. Natasha eventually outgrew her desire to distance herself from Yelena, and she returned to the protective tendencies she had harboured for the blonde when they were so young and alone, but what she didn’t outgrow was her need to fit in. That followed her way into high school. By sophomore year she was cheer captain and everyone in school knew her name. (She wasn’t mean, though, she always made sure of that. And she made it known that if anyone were to mess with Yelena — or you, by extension, as by this point people had started referring to you as the twins — there would be consequences.) She had friends, she had boyfriends, she had invites to parties. And as long as Natasha pretended she didn’t have a massive interest in you or a mental list of your likes and dislikes, she would be fine. Probably.

When she was sixteen she realised with startling clarity that the massive interest she acted as though she didn’t have in you was love. She and two of her good friends, Sharon and Maria, were animatedly discussing whether Sharon really loved her boyfriend or not. And the way love was described, romantic love, was identical to what she felt for you (and what any idiot could tell you felt for her, as much as everyone seemed to have agreed to pretend that you didn’t). An inexplicable attraction drawing her to you, an interest in anything you were interested in (see that time she was ten and stayed up all night researching your favourite cartoon just so she could discuss it with you over breakfast the next morning), a desire to just be with you forever. That was love. She loved you.

Oh, shit.

“You’re awful quiet, Nat,” Maria commented. Natasha cleared her throat and took a sip of juice. “Anything on your mind?”

“Just that Sharon needs to dump her shitbag of a boyfriend,” she replied shortly. Maria clapped her hands together in triumph, while Sharon let out a huff of annoyance.

“That’s what I keep saying,” Maria told her proudly, as Sharon spluttered in protest. The discussion resumed and the matter was forgotten. Natasha shoved her discovery to the back of her mind, hoping and praying she could un-discover it. Maybe if she did, things would stay okay.

Try as she might, she couldn’t, but she has tried; more determined than ever to be the perfect American girl. Over dinners she pretends to be annoyed at the teasing, saying that her accent’s gone, she’s no Russian, the American agenda has got her, that she’s almost as American as you.

“Our token Yankees,” Alexi often says merrily, to this day, clapping both you and her on the back with force that makes you wince and her giggle. She’ll whine and wrinkle her nose at him (while you just sit and blush), but secretly revel in the praise that her efforts have been so fruitful.

Barely any time into this school year, her senior year, she realised that she hadn’t had a boyfriend for a suspiciously long time.

“You and James would be cute,” offered Sharon, pointing with her fork at where her good friend and fellow Slav sat across the cafeteria, laughing about something.

“Yes,” came Natasha’s thoughtful reply, “we would, wouldn’t we?”

Every single aspect of her life was coldly calculated, unfeeling, sterile. Natasha Romanoff knew what she wanted and she would obtain it. Her pursuit of Bucky Barnes was no different. He was politely reciprocal at first, and the two entered what Nat’s friends called a situationship over the coming months. It wasn’t until a Stark house party that he turned her down.

“Natasha,” he said gently, and the word was so loud despite the music that blared only a few rooms away. He only had to say that and she knew. She sighed, and sat down on the bed in defeat, only to look up in surprise at his next words.

“I don’t… I like Steve.”

Not even Natasha could understand why she started crying. But Buck was so kind, so patient, and he held her until her tears dried. When she could speak evenly again she opened her mouth and everything came flooding out. The way she felt for you and her deep, innate fear of being different.

Bucky was quiet for a few moments in contemplation. Then he said, “I’m scared, too. Me and Steve are like you and Y/N, we known each other all our lives, and it’s like, what if whatever I do or say or feel ruins that? But you gotta… it’s…” He scratched at the back of his head. “You gotta trust it’ll work out. If you love each other proper, then even if she don’t like you back, you’ll still have her. In your life. It’ll be okay, you know. You just gotta have faith.”

Of course, Natasha knew without a shadow of a doubt how hopelessly head over heels you were for her. Rejection wasn’t what she feared. But she wasn’t sure how to word that to Bucky without sounding entirely conceited, so she just nodded. After that night, though, the two were a whole lot closer, and in no time at all they established a kind of beard situation — they’d act ambiguously involved in public so that in private they could affiliate with the ones their hearts truly desired. It wasn’t as though there weren’t queer people within their school, because of course there were, but both feared for the loss of their social standing so intensely that they saw no other option.

It was Bucky who pushed Nat to kiss you at the New Year’s party.

“If it goes wrong, come find me and we’ll drink,” he shouted over the blaring music. Both of them knew it wouldn’t go wrong, though.

But she drank anyway — for luck, she told herself, downing an impressive amount in one. She was Russian, even when she pretended she was not. A perk of that was being able to handle her liquor.

The New Year’s kiss famously went swimmingly, and Nat felt so giddy the next morning that she marvelled she hadn’t done this sooner. The two of you began to sneak around, which pleased her greatly, but she felt the words you didn’t say during the silence that would sometimes descend on the two of you. Your slight twitchiness, the way you would work yourself up to say something only to dismiss it at the last second. You didn’t want to ask what are we? for fear of the probable answer — and Natasha didn’t have an answer for you, anyway. She liked the way things were now; she had a pretty girl wrapped around her finger who she could sneak around with in private, and she could simultaneously maintain the social status she’d always had in public. She was certain that if you were ever to make her pick between the two she would spiral. Eventually you seemed to take the hint, and the hopeful silences stopped.

It never really occurred to her that she wasn’t treating you well until quite a few months into your relationship — around June, after Stark’s spring break party, once Yelena had started teasing you about a mystery girl. Every time it was mentioned in front of her she would tense, but you handled it with surprising and admirable nonchalance, and her sister seemed to have no suspicion it was her that was spoken of.

Natasha came back late one night from a hangout with friends. She’d forgotten her key and, assuming everyone was asleep, decided to let herself in through the garage rather than disturb anyone. But you and Yelena were still up and enjoying a quiet night in, as the two of you often did, huddled together under blankets on the sofa in a way that would make Natasha reminisce on the way she and Yelena used to do that in the orphanage — except they had done that to survive the bitter cold, whilst the two of you did so merely to enjoy reality TV reruns. It warmed Natasha to see her baby sister happy, at least.

The noise of one Kardashian fighting another (Natasha always got them mixed up) drowned out her quiet arrival, and the two of you were mid-conversation. She made for the stairs, not really wanting nor caring to intrude, but froze as she tuned into Yelena’s next words.

“You never really mention your mystery girl anymore, anyway,” the blonde was saying. “Did something happen? I can hurt someone.”

Natasha craned her neck to catch your next words.

“Nothing happened,” you said quietly. Defeatedly. “I just… I don’t know. I don’t think she likes me as much as I like her.”

“Ah, конечно нет, impossible,” drawled Yelena. “You are adorable, утенок. Everyone likes you.”

You murmured something unintelligible, and Yelena scoffed, but Natasha didn’t need to hear any more. She crawled up the stairs as if the world were about to slip away from beneath her feet. Suddenly everything around her was so overwhelmingly real, and she realised with sickening clarity that you were real, too. She spent the rest of that night lying in her bed, unsleeping, unmoving, counting the paint strokes on the ceiling and wondering if she could’ve gone her whole life without knowing that she’s a bad person. Maybe she has. 

That was probably the beginning of the end. When she looked you the next morning it was as though she was seeing you for the first time — you were quiet, you were pale, there were dark circles under your eyes. You were smaller somehow, as though something had defeated you completely. And Nat knew in that moment that she was too much of a coward to give herself to you, so the kindest thing she could do was let you go. If she was lucky then maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t lose you completely if she set you free now.

Right now it’s prom night. Seeing you dancing with Sam was one of the most gut-wrenching sights she’s ever endured, but he at least seems to make you happier than she ever did. It didn’t make her very happy to look at, though, so she convinced Buck to drop her home on his way back to Steve’s. (Prom was their first official date and, as Buck informed her with a proud grin as she left the car, it went fantastic.) Melina and Alexi are out — every other Friday is their date night, and while Yelena groans and gags at how ridiculously in love their parents are, Natasha just finds it sweet and hopes she’ll have something like that someday. But you’re the closest it’s ever come to that for her, and she’s fucked that one. Royally.

“Hi, Liho,” she opens the front door and mumbles to the cat, who is sat in the hall expectantly. His haunches rise defensively, and Nat just sighs. He is very much your cat, not hers, and in recent times he seems to have been picking up on the turmoil she’s been putting you through. “Look, man, she’s out being happy, without me. Isn’t that enough?”

Liho hisses, and stalks with his head held high out of the front door.

“Yeah, whatever, leave then,” Nat grumbles, and kicks the door shut behind him. Even through the thick oakwood she can hear the noises of annoyance he makes back at her.

She kicks off her heels and throws herself onto the sofa, and lays there for a long time. It would be nice, she thinks to herself, if she could just stay here forever, and never have to face the world again. And she does for a while, but eventually the front door slams, bringing in cold air and with it the announcement that you and Yelena are home. Nat tenses as she recognises the sounds of your crying, and leaps to her feet, sliding across the smooth wooden floors in her stockinged feet towards you.

“What’s going on?” she pants, taking in the scene. You’re cradling something dark and vaguely furry to your chest, and Yelena is fussing over it worriedly. She realises like a punch to the gut that it’s Liho you’re holding. “Holy shit, what —”

She freezes as she realises she’s the one who let him outside. Is he supposed to outside? She doesn’t know anything about this goddamn cat, he’s not hers. Shit. 

“Call Alexi,” you choke out. Natasha stands still frozen in shock, so Yelena lets out a mutter of “бесполезный” and charges towards the landline herself.

“Are you— okay?” Nat tries uncertainly. “What —”

“Piss off, Nat,” you cry. Ouch. Okay, she probably deserves that.

“Sorry,” she says quietly, and steps back from you. You stand in silence for a few moments until Yelena comes skidding back out into the hall.

“He’s nearly home anyway,” she pants. “He says don’t call the vet, not until Ma has looked him, we should just stop the bleeding. It was definitely a car, probably a hit and run so he said to check the doorbell camera thingy. What is their name?”

“That is the scientific term, yes,” Natasha nods, and you make a noise that’s both a laugh and a sob. “Um, I think Dad has the app on his iPad.” Not that he knows how to use it. He’s such a comedically giant man that seeing him trying to navigate the tiny device offers her a steady stream of entertainment. (“Глупый кусок жести. Делай как я говорю!”)

“On it,” Yelena nods, and sprints off to where she last saw the device.

“I’m sorry,” Nat offers again, once her sister’s out of earshot.

“Not now, Nat,” you sigh tiredly, and you sound so broken that she just wants to scoop you up and protect you from all the evil in the world. But she’s subjected you to that evil, whether she meant to or not, and now she has to deal with the consequences.

Yelena is gone and oddly quiet for a suspiciously long time.

“You okay?” you call, cupping the cat desperately to your chest as you pad off in search of her. Unsure of what else to do, Natasha follows you, hanging behind awkwardly and making sure to give you enough space.

Yelena is stood still as anything in the kitchen, staring at the iPad propped up on the counter, rewatching one clip over and over on the security camera app. Nat can’t tell what it’s of, at first, but the exact moment you realise you let out a squeak, and squeeze Liho even closer to your chest. Only a moment later does Natasha understand what it is.

It’s from quite a while ago — the timestamp says sometime late at night in March. In the clip Nat’s car pulls up onto the driveway, with her at the wheel and you in the passenger’s seat. Once the car stops, Nat leans over and she kisses you. And you kiss back. On camera.

Liho lets out a noise of pain at how tightly you’re gripping him to you. Yelena stares blankly at the screen as the video plays over and over again.

“Lena?” you ask quietly, and when the blonde turns round her eyes are glossy. “I don’t —”

The next thing Natasha knows is a sharp pain shooting through her nose, and she steps back in shock, because there’s no way Yelena’s just hit her.

“What the fuck,” Yelena says, and there’s that scratchy sound to her voice that’s only ever there when she’s trying not to cry. “The one person who is off limits and you just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

“Lena,” you cry out in alarm as the blonde raises her fist again. “Don’t, it wasn’t — it was an accident —”

“Oh, what,” she’s rounding on you now, “so you just slipped and fell into my sister’s —”

“No,” you plead desperately, “it wasn’t like that.”

“You were the mystery girl all along,” Yelena shouts, and presses her lips together with her eyes screwed tightly shut. “All the time you were right there. You lied to me.” She raises her fist again, but Nat is prepared this time and catches it neatly in her own.

“Don’t,” she says evenly, but she isn’t prepared for the hatred that burns in the green eyes that meet hers.

“How many months were you sneaking around behind my back?” Yelena hisses. Nat still holds her wrist tightly, so she merely turns her head to address you next. “Ты - лжец, how long have you been using me for her?”

“I wasn’t,” you plead, and whatever is shouted after that is indiscernible. After a few moments of noise the front door opens again, and Melina and Alexi stumble in, with a sense of urgency about them.

“Oh goodness, what is all this shouting, girls?” Melina asks loudly, and at the sound of her raised voice you all instinctively fall quiet. “In fact, this is not important. Where is this poor cat?”

You hold out the bundle of bandages and fur to her, face shiny with tears, and she scoops him up gently. “Will he be okay?”

“I don’t know,” she says shortly. “I will get him to the vet. I’ll call you.” She kisses your forehead, then Yelena’s, then Natasha’s on the way out and the front door slams behind her.

Yelena turns on you again with no less venom than before.

“You,” she says, “are not my family. And neither are you,” she adds to Natasha. “Do not speak to me.” She storms out of the room, and you, Nat and Alexi watch her leave, stunned.

“Well,” says Alexi with a jovial chuckle, clapping his hands and rubbing them together, “she seems a little upset, да?”

[profoundbondfanfic]

Hi there!

I have been looking in vain for fics with Non-verbal Dean or Castiel. I've read a couple but haven't been able to find anymore and the tagging system only seems to give me junk results not actually related to that.

Thank in advance for your help!

Hey! Here are a few fics we could think of:

All Cats Are Gray After Dark by squirrelofcelestialintent (Explicit, 19k words)

1992, NYC. Dean is a Gulf War veteran working in the grimiest ER in the city, and he’s holding his life together. Kind of? Maybe. But he’s got secrets. No one at work knows that he’s not physically mute due to a war injury, but rather selectively mute from way back in the day, because that is almost impossible to explain. Nobody but Sam knows he’s a rare, male Omega, and the discovery of that secret was why he got kicked out of the army. And nobody, absolutely nobody, knows that he occasionally sneaks out to have anonymous sex with men. Until he meets Castiel freaking Novack - anonymous hook up turned new boss - who in less than a month manages to find out all three.

Casicorn by everandanon (Explicit, 56k words)

When Detective Dean Winchester suddenly finds himself with a new roommate, a mysterious man who doesn’t speak but seems to somehow be connected to the department’s recent vigilante problem, he has no idea what he’s in for. The guy doesn’t know how to work a TV, brush his teeth, or even take a shower, and he stares at Dean all the goddamn time. Not to mention he insists on sleeping in Dean’s bed. While Dean is in it! Weird, right? Except the longer Cas sticks around, the less Dean starts to mind; the more he kind of dreads Cas leaving for good, actually, even though nobody really knows who Cas is or where he came from. And then, one night, Dean happens to witness their vigilante firsthand and realizes he knows Cas even less than he thought . . . (Loosely inspired by The Little Mermaid)

Finding You In Every Sign by casblackfeathers (Explicit, 99k words)

Castiel was content with the constant flow of his life. He had his brother Gabriel, had his coffee shop and the weekly book club meetings as well as a small but solid group of friends. If there was one thing his hateful family had taught him, it was how fast things could go wrong if he let too many variables shape his life. So when he met Dean, a gradual regular at his shop, Castiel knew he was trouble, because Dean was like a comet, beautiful but beyond reach. Ever since his father died, there wasn’t a single constant in Dean’s life. Moving on, never stopping, never getting attached to one thing for too long had made him a drifter for the past seven years. Being the only hearing person in his family hadn’t been easy with a father like John Winchester, so as soon as Dean saw an escape, he took it. Settling down to open his flower shop was anything but easy, especially when he met the elusive deaf owner of the coffee shop next door. The more he discovered about Cas, the louder the voice in the back of his head whispered that maybe Castiel was the person finally worth staying for. And maybe, just maybe, Dean was willing to listen now.

Hear You Me by through_shadows_falling (Explicit, 84k words)

Castiel is a college graduate stuck in two dead-end, part-time jobs. Oh, and he’s Deaf…which to his oldest brother Michael makes him something to constantly fret over. It’s not Castiel’s fault that he doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life, right? Not like it’s Michael’s business anyways. Enter Dean Winchester. A chance encounter with the man has the power to change Castiel’s life - and in the end, maybe, just maybe, it will help him finally understand and accept who he is and what he’s meant to do.

i saw the light by LoversAntiquities (Mature, 14k words)

“Sam, you gotta hear about this ghost story I found the other day,” Susanne says over the speakerphone, just as loud as she has been for the last half hour. For the most part, Castiel ignores her—or tries—and concentrates on the beads dangling from between his fingers, centerpiece pressed to his forehead. Praying doesn’t work, but some mornings, when the coffee doesn’t get him going and the walls feel more like a prison than a home, he sits at the library table and whispers empty words into the crucifix, like Jesus can ease the festering ache in his chest. He can’t—no one else can either.

late july by thanks_tacos (Explicit, 26k words)

'I would like to take in your most abused one,' Castiel says, looking at the rows of doors in the yellow corridor. 'Give him a good home.' After his accident, Castiel needs someone to help him around the small brick house he lives in and the bookstore he owns. So, he adopts Dean; an omega who barely survived being dumped in a ditch and left for dead. Dean doesn't talk, but that's fine; they learn to live together in the quaint, rainy city surrounded by a green forest. Castiel just wants to give Dean a peaceful life he deserves, and maybe also - become his mate?

Looking for a Sign by emwebb17 (Mature, 70k words)

Dean can't figure out why the hot guy on the train is ignoring him…that is until he realizes that the man is profoundly deaf. After an unpleasant misunderstanding, the two become friends. It isn't long before Dean wants more, but Castiel sticks steadfastly to his rule about not dating hearing people. When Dean starts to date other people to try to get over him, Castiel starts to wonder if maybe Dean is the exception to the rule.

No Words by Ltleflrt (Explicit, 112k words)

On the run from his very powerful family, Castiel does his best to get lost. Because if he doesn’t know where he is, his brothers won’t be able to find him very easily either. He ends up in Silverton, a small mountain town nestled deep within the Rocky Mountains where he meets Dean Winchester, a very beautiful and very grumpy omega.

sunflower by unicornpoe (Teen and up, 4k)

Castiel comes home on a Sunday.

Still Waters Run Deep by thisisapaige (Explicit, 41k words)

In the darkest depths of the ocean, sealed into the ma'lak box with Chuck trapped behind the Mark, Castiel loses the battle against God's rage. When Sam and Dean find Castiel on a dark patch of highway— the Mark missing and his grace weak— he cannot speak. It rains. It rains and it rains and it rains. It is a Great Flood. In order to stop God, save the world, and resolve the issues simmering between them for years, Castiel and Dean need to communicate. Perhaps they should build an ark instead.

The Hanged Man by orphan_account (Mature, 87k words)

After Park Ranger Cas Novak saves a mysterious stranger named Dean from an attempted murder in the woods, he finds himself drawn into the man's secretive life. Someone tried to kill Dean, but he's not telling who. In fact, he's barely speaking at all. If he's going to have any hope of helping Dean, Cas will have to convince the man to trust him — all while trying not to fall in love with him along the way.

We also have a mute tag with more fics like these. Also if you search for 'selectively mute dean' or 'mute dean' (or cas if you prefer cas) on ao3 you might get lucky as well.

[belovedmusings]

Heaven knows I ain't getting over you.

Choso Kamo x You x Suguru Geto

Explicit Themes 18+ (🚫Minors DNI🚫)

Part seven of the 'Two + One' story. Click for story masterlist.

Guitarist! Choso Kamo is your boyfriend, and he finally notices that his bandmate, Suguru may feel some type of way about you. Now, it's up to you to decide whether you want to come clean about your own feelings for Suguru, and your subconscious may just decide for you.

Relevant tags: sexual tension, thoughts of infidelity, characters with questionable morals, Suguru is hot, Suguru has piercings and tattoos amen, Choso is sweet and loyal, slow burn, no "y/n" for immersion, 2nd POV, reader has no defining characteristics, explicit smut, missionary, nipple play (fem receiving)

Recommended songs to listen to while reading: Just Pretend (Bad Omens), Is There Someone Else (The Weekend), Undisclosed Desires (Muse)

A/N: I'm starting to think Bad Omens ghostwrote this fic the way that entire album fits this story perfectly. Also, just for clarification, the italic texts are yours, and the bolded texts are Suguru's! The drama is getting real and it will continue to build. Enjoy ;)

Read on Ao3 if you prefer!

Or read below cut:

Things return to a semblance of normalcy. 

Choso continues to work with Curse Manipulator.

Suguru doesn’t text or call you, despite having gotten your number, and you sort of let it be.

You greet Choso when he comes home, and you’re both happy to see each other.

The two of you even have a better sex life than you’ve ever had now that he’s become bolder with you.

But it feels like you’re walking on thin ice. Microcracks are undulating beneath the weight of your steps, the frigid void of water beneath beginning to seep through. There are no indications. You just feel like something is off.

He isn’t acting like anything is wrong…but it’s almost as if things are too quiet.

This purgatory drags on for about a month until one night, when you’re home alone and you get a text from Suguru.

He noticed.

You pause as soon as you read it. He noticed? What does Suguru mean by that?

What?

I’ve been asking about you more, he asked me what was up.

Then I told him the truth.

Your heart full-on drops into the pit of your stomach.

What did you say?

I said I think you’re attractive.

Was that all?

Well, I also said I have no intention of usurping you. That I respect him and your relationship.

But I wanted to tell you because he’s probably going to bring it up.

So be prepared.

The way he’s talking, it sounds like the two of you have to cover something up. It’s like it’s a late-stage affair rather than just the metaphorical dance-around-the-fire the two of you have been engaging in.

Is it still bad? Yes. Is this text conversation proof of that? Yes, again.

Okay…

Thanks for the heads up.

Also,

I’ve been wanting to text you but I wasn’t sure what to say.

Anything is incriminating, right?

Not necessarily…you could ask me how my day was or…I don’t know, bring up a new movie or song or…

Maybe it just feels that way because of how I feel about you.

And how I know you feel about me.

It’s not innocent.

You have to set the phone down for a minute to gather your bearings. What game is he playing? You haven’t heard from him in a month and now he does this?

Your hand picks your phone back up and you type out a reply.

When you talk like that, of course it’s not.

How can I see what your face looks like right now without you being here?

What do you see?

Your eyes are heavy. There’s a weight in them. You’re probably holding my hand again.

I wish I was.

Good god, you can’t catch a break.

Should you really be flirting with me after you told my boyfriend you were attracted to me?

He just thinks it’s one-sided.

He doesn’t know you feel the same.

So now I have to pretend like it is?

You have a choice to make. Tell him you’re attracted to me or just act surprised.

You mean, lie to him either way?

What other option do you have that won’t end in disaster?

He has a point. You can’t say it’s more than attraction, then he’d catch Suguru in a lie also. He’d realize it goes deeper than how he made it seem. So what?

Be half-honest, or lie completely?

Anyways…how was your day?

The abruptness of the text has you laughing aloud in the silence of your living room. 

It was fine. How was yours?

Just worked. We’re getting close to finalizing the album, then the next steps will come.

What are the next steps?

A music video for the title track, press run, and a tour. It’s going to be our biggest album yet.

As you read it, the gravity of it all hits you. 

Choso is part of a successful band. And it’s on the trajectory to get bigger and bigger. All of the proper groundwork has been laid—they’re local stars, and with a music video and the team Suguru has secured to help with promotion, their music will find new fans all over the place. With that comes touring, traveling all over the country and even the world…it’s huge.

Wow.

I can’t believe this is all happening.

It sounds like a lot, doesn’t it?

Well, yeah. You’re going to be proper rock stars.

Haha

You’ll be along for the ride.

Choso’s going to want you there. And I will too.

You’ll see everything we do.

That sounds fun and intimidating.

It does, right?

But it’s exciting. Choso is exactly what we were missing. With him we’re going to make it.

I feel proud.

You should. 

A question pops into your mind.

Was it always your goal to have fame?

Haha, well, I admit I am a bit of a show-off.

I just think everything happened to put me in this position.

That makes sense. I feel special, getting to know you guys before you get big. I’m your first groupie.

Haha, come on, you’re more than that. So much more.

I know. But I really am a fan. Your music is all I play recently.

Yeah? What song is your favorite?

Strange. You wrote it about your life, right?

I did. It’s sort of an autobiography. I’m surprised that’s your favorite, it’s one of the only songs of ours that’s really personal.

Why are you surprised? I remember when you told me about that stuff. Hearing it in a song was beautiful.

You sound so open and honest when you’re singing.

Oh, I see…

Was I not when I told you?

No, I meant I could feel your emotions because of how you sang it.

It’s breathtaking.

When you compliment me like that, it goes straight to my head.

Coming from you, that means the world.

I’ll make more meaningful songs in the future.

You don’t have to just because it’s what I like.

No, I want to.

I have some things I want to say.

You know, you’ve inspired me a lot.

You groan out loud, laying back on the couch and rubbing at your face in frustration. What are you supposed to do with that? This doesn’t sound like ‘no intentions of usurping’. 

Luckily (or unluckily) the lock in your front door turns, indicating the return of your boyfriend. 

You close out of the messaging app and lock your phone, hoping to ignore that text the rest of the night. With that you pretend to have been watching whatever show is on television as he walks in.

Immediately, his smile is tight as he greets you. “Hey.”

Oh god, here we go.

“Hey, baby,” you reply, giving him a smile as he moves to sit beside you after removing his shoes. He gives you a kiss on the cheek, arms winding around your waist. “How was it today?”

“It was okay,” he begins, his eyes meeting yours for a moment before they flit away. “I had an interesting conversation with Suguru.”

You steel yourself. “Interesting how?”

“Well,” he hesitates, pulling away and resituating himself on the cushion beside you, fiddling with his hands for a moment. “Lately, he’s been asking a lot…about you. At first, I didn’t think much of it. But then Larue randomly said today ‘you should bring her by again, Suguru won’t shut up about her.’ I didn’t realize he spoke about you when I wasn’t around. It got me thinking…why would he be talking about you like that? Then he mentioned you again, how you haven’t been around, and then I decided to just ask him what it was about once the other two guys left.”

You take a breath. “Um, okay…and?”

“And he told me he was attracted to you. Like, straight-up. I mean, he reassured me he wasn’t going to do anything about it, but I…I don’t know. I mean, he’s Suguru. He could probably have whoever he wants. If he went after you…”

Moment of truth. Who will you be? 

“Um…” You begin, heart pounding as you find your words, “well, that’s…”

Choso’s eyes flit back to yours, waiting to hear what you have to say.

“Well, I…thought maybe he did…”

“You did?” Choso asks, “You thought he was interested in you? Since when?”

“I don’t know, I just had a feeling.” Okay, so now you are a liar. Guilt starts fortifying deep in your gut. “I-I mean, I didn’t know for sure.”

“Oh,” Choso frowns, “So…I mean…what do you think about it?”

The correct answer is to tell him there’s no chance in hell. But hell is where you currently are, and you’ve entertained Suguru enough already, so what does that do for anyone?

You sigh heavily. “To…to be honest…I mean, he is an attractive guy, but I would never leave you for him, not in a million years, Chos’.”

Choso’s face is unreadable for a second, and you immediately begin regretting what you just said.

“So…” He breathes out, brows furrowing slightly. “What I’m…hearing is that you two are attracted to each other?”

Back pedal, back pedal, back pedal.

“I meant that he’s just a good-looking guy. You know? And he’s nice, but that doesn’t compare to what you and I have. We have history and intimacy, baby, I would never let him disrupt that.”

Haven’t you already, though? Liar.

“But what if it was different? If you met him first, and then me? If you had the history and intimacy with him? Would you still want me the same?”

Can he see right through you? This has potential to blow up in your face. You need to put this fire out now. 

“It’s not that serious,” you shake your head, taking his hands, “I’m in love with you, Chos’, and there are tons of good-looking guys out there, that doesn’t mean that I like them or want to be with them!”

“So you don’t like Suguru like that? It’s just that you think he’s good-looking?”

“Right.” Wrong.

Choso sucks in a deep breath, reaching up and taking his hair out of their ties to rub at his head. “Well…I…I trust you, obviously, it’s just weird.”

“Y-yeah, that’s understandable.” 

You’re lying to the man you love. This who you are now, isn’t it? A bad person. 

“I don’t need to worry, do I?”

“No,” you say in a rush, “baby, I’m yours, okay? I love you so much. You are the best. And nothing will take me away from you.”

He looks at you for a moment before moving closer, wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you. “I’m just so afraid you’ll fall out of love with me. You’re my world and it’s unhealthy how much I love you. I’d sooner let you walk all over my heart than leave me.”

Each word twists the dagger he’s lodged in your heart harder and harder. 

All you can say is, “I love you,” like an apology, squeezing him tightly in your arms. 

“I love you,” he replies, tightening his own hold on you, and despite all of the words you exchanged, it doesn’t feel like you’ve reached a resolution at all.

You’ve just dug yourself a deeper hole.

____

“I want to keep going,” Suguru stares up at you, his mouth at the line of your shirt, dangerously near the top of your breast. You’ve seen this before—you two are in your living room all alone. Choso’s at his brother’s house. This is the part where Suguru pulls away and says he won’t go further.

Except, he doesn’t do that. He pulls you onto the couch. You wind up beneath him quickly, and he doesn’t stop. His greedy hands tug your shirt down, exposing you to his eyes, and his pierced lips wrap around a nipple, large palms on your hips, gripping them like you’ll float away if he doesn’t hold you down.

You feel the bead of his tongue piercing on your stiff peak, and can’t stop the gasp of his name.

“Suguru!”

He smiles up at you, that infuriating crooked grin, his hands working expertly to get you naked. His mouth kisses, tastes, and marks any expanse of skin he can touch, and before you know it, you can’t even remember if either of you had been wearing clothes in the first place. All you feel is his hot skin on yours everywhere.

He hovers his face over yours, molten sunset eyes locked with yours.

“I’m gonna kiss you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Don’t care.”

His mouth devours yours as a parched traveler attacks an oasis, and you moan at the taste of his mouth, the warmth of his tongue on yours, and you just let go. Your hands thread into his beautiful black tresses, cupping his face, kissing him with all of the desire in the world. 

Then, he’s inside of you.

It knocks the wind out of you, dislodging the kiss so you can cry out another, “Suguru!”

He groans, and then he’s moving, thrusts coming quick and hard, like an animal mauling its prey, carnal and so so delicious, your hands find his chest, his neck, his abdomen, his arms, his hips—you want to grab onto any and every part of him but nowhere you touch is enough, you want to become one with him. 

He goes harder and you can’t stop saying his name. It’s an incantation, evoking a side of you that you’ve never known, that you’re afraid of, that you vy for.

“Suguru…” it tumbles freely, “Suguru, Suguru!”

He takes you to heights you’ve never been to before, and you feel light as air yet far away like you’re at the bottom of the ocean. He fills your lungs, it’s impossible to breathe when it’s this hot—

Your eyes snap open. A hand is on your shoulder. Eyes are on yours. 

But they don’t belong to Suguru.

You’re in bed with Choso, and your blood suddenly runs cold. 

You were dreaming. 

The resignation in his eyes says it all.

“You…were saying his name in your sleep.”

---

A/N: evil cliffhanger oopsies...hope you enjoyed!! Also, I changed the cover art for the story 'cause it looked a little too cringe. This one is still cringe but tastefully so. Okay, d out!

Please don't copy or repost, but feel free to reblog and share!

Taglist (comment here or my masterlist if you want to be added): @jaegerstan222 , @cosmicstarlatte , @dabisdolly , @moonriseoverkyoto , @propheticfire , @bontensbabygirl , @crlyhairedwxtch , @alittlebirdahgaselx , @okkovtsu , @notbellasstuff , @uchihabbynic , @polaroidnana , @childofilluvatar , @shadowfoxy , @jordan-network , @dreamtravelersade , @unmatchxd , @lucyrocks86 , @spineyy , @k3lbade , @xxbuckpoppi , @naughtygobbo , @slammynics , @roseambers , @luvingyouwasreallyhard , @hinachaaan , @redladyrae-blog , @spiteless-xo , @slutforaz , @bellaabee082 , @thedorklingqueen , @delayedrage , @poopwons , @pandisastergod , @username23345 , @sleazymac-n-cheesy , @forest-haven , @midnaamethyste , @bihanspookies , @mysteriouskiller1 , @liyahthings , @makingtimemine

[morsmvrdre]

Fic Rec Masterlist

a long time coming, but here is a compilation of fics that i have read in the past year and absolutely loved. all of these have some kind of explicit content. clearly, i have a preference for dramione, but i've been getting into jegulus a lot recently too! enjoy <3

(in order of ship [dramione, nottpott, jegulus, and wolfstar] and then word count. 30 in total.)

Dramione

your lonely calls to me - senlinyu (3,085)

“Less than a year post-war, trainee healer Hermione Granger visits Azkaban to perform volunteer medical check-ups and finds something she isn't intended to see, and has no choice but to do something about it.”

Break the Ward - thisisnotadance (6,499)

“So, you like this skirt then?” She asked with a smirk.

“They should throw me in Azkaban for the things I want to do to you in that skirt.”

The Wizard from A.U.R.O.R. - Wanderingfair (6,836)

“OR The one where Hermione asks a simple favour as she and Draco confront their unresolved feelings for each other immediately before an important mission.”

The Seduction - senlinyu (11,686)

“Hermione’s expression grew indignant but Draco ignored it and pressed on.

“I am trying to seduce you,” he said, staring her straight in the eye. Her indignation faded as her mouth dropped open and her eyes slowly grew round.”

Season Pass (To This Ass) - mightbewriting (16,390)

“[In which Hermione dumps a Quidditch fan and dates a Quidditch player instead. Spite is a beautiful motivator.]”

Ardent Bonds - Musyc (16,741)

“Maybe it was wrong to think about this, maybe it was horrible to even consider, but if Draco Malfoy liked to dominate, she couldn't stop herself from picturing it. Picturing him.”

Sated Thirst - Notawriter_17 (17,415)

“A story told in three parts. Ron. Theo. Draco. Hermione's journey into the world of BDSM and sexual enlightenment.”

Seven Times Seven - steely (21,589)

“Hermione had expected some level of resistance from Draco at her incarceration, but not to this extreme. He was unraveling himself while desperately trying to keep her together.”

Five Months Until Summer - allofthelights11 (27,464)

“She's tried three times over holiday break and it hasn't worked out. Now she has a little more than five months until summer when she can try again.”

Ten Out of Ten - morriganmercy (61,559

“In which Hermione is determined to find a loophole to free her from a forced marriage with Draco Malfoy. But with only two weeks until they are legally required to consummate, it would be irresponsible not to prepare for every contingency.”

Lose Control - madrose_writing (70,082)

“In Elysium, that girl behind the white mask, begging for permission to come undone could be the Golden Girl. That man behind the black mask making her beg could be the Boy Who Had No Choice. In Elysium, anonymity is key. If you could be anyone, who would you be?”

Private Tutor - allofthelights11 (77,407)

“That time Hermione offered to give Draco Malfoy some much-needed sexual experience.”

Wait and Hope - mightbewriting (94,946)

“[In which Hermione loses the last six year's worth of her memories, including the entirety of her relationship and marriage to Draco.]”

A Season for Setting Fires - mightbewriting (95,639)

“[In which a soulmate bond appears while Hermione is tortured at Malfoy Manor. Canon divergent from that moment onward.]”

Between Certifiable and Bliss - HeyJude19 (97,712)

“In the ensuing years, he did not need to constantly remember that blissful, impossible dream. He further did not need Potter bursting into his mostly turned-around life to embroil him in a conspiracy at Azkaban. And he definitely did not need to embark on a clandestine investigation into prisoner mistreatment with Hermione Granger.”

The Injury of Finally Knowing You - VanillaSage (123,751)

“10 years ago, tucked away in a secret room during their Eighth Year at Hogwarts, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy fell in love. 10 years later, the echoes of how that young love burned down still haunt them when, on the day of her divorce, Hermione stumbles upon her old flame once again.”

Meet Me In Dreamland - sinflower81 (126,169)

“A Post-Hogwarts fic in which Hermione and Draco fuck (a lot) without realizing it. Alternating POVs, kinky combos, and a dramatic, spice-driven plot.”

Rosemary for Remembrance - rubber_soul02 (167,789)

“A post-war, slow-burn, enemies to lovers Dramione story about healing, redemption, and second chances. Featuring a full cast of your favourite snarky Slytherins.”

Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Loveisthisselfcare (199,548)

“Hermione straddles the Muggle and Magical worlds as a medical researcher and Healer about to make a big discovery. Draco is an Auror assigned to protect her from forces unknown – to both of their displeasure.”

Bring Him To His Knees - Musyc (246,526)

“Draco is on the case of a murderer, but to investigate, he needs a fake relationship - and a kink club play partner. When Hermione volunteers to take the role, both do their best to maintain the lie without letting each other know the truth: neither of them are acting.”

A Game of High Stakes - In_Dreaming (263,110)

“In theory, the task is simple: kill Draco Malfoy. In practice, putting a curse through the Dark Lord's favoured lieutenant will take everything Hermione has―especially since he's trying to kill her, too. Even more so when the lines between them start to blur. Sometimes, the only way out is through.”

Manacled - senlinyu (370,515)

“Harry Potter is dead. In the aftermath of the war, in order to strengthen the might of the magical world, Voldemort enacts a repopulation effort. Hermione Granger has an Order secret, lost but hidden in her mind, so she is sent as an enslaved surrogate to the High Reeve until her mind can be cracked.” 

NottPott

Chaperones - RoseHarperMaxwell (5,561)

“I'm going to court Granger," Draco said around a mouthful of toothpaste. He spat into their sink and rinsed his mouth, leaning against the doorframe with a casual air that belied the enormity of such a statement. "We need you to be our chaperone."

Theo closed his astronomy textbook, using a thumb to hold his place. "I'm sorry, what?”

Draco nodded, as though he'd expected disbelief. "Courting Granger. That's something I'm doing now."

No Expectations - In_Dreams (6,963)

“To avoid attending Hermione's promotion dinner solo after a breakup, Harry agrees to a blind date for appearances only. But his resolve crumbles when his arranged date is the disdainfully gorgeous Theo Nott.”

Jegulus

Taking Care - Quietlemonhush (5,084)

“James learns lessons about how to love Regulus.”

The First Person You Loved - Anonymous (8,539)

“Regulus shows up at the Potters' house bleeding and hurt, which reveals something about James' relationship with him to Sirius.”

As if Through Water - third_crow (8,611)

“Or, Regulus learns he and James have more in common than he thought”

The Mystery of Pears - sonwar (89,958)

“In the cave, Regulus doesn’t beg for it to stop. He begs not be left behind, alone. Perhaps this is why, when Kreacher gives one last look over his shoulder and sees terrible, pale hands reaching for his master, he appears in a flash at Regulus’ side, clutches him by the elbow, and Apparates them both out of the cave, directly disobeying his master’s last order.”

Pathological People Pleaser - rweoutofthewoods (114,435)

“(OR: all it takes is a summer-long holiday in Italy, James Potter's teetering mental stability, a secret relationship, friends with benefits, Marlene’s secret, and enough stupidity and insecurity to go around for everything to come crashing down around them.)”

Wolfstar

that’s the art of getting by - sarewolf (40,459)

“What do you want me to do?” Remus says, tiredly. All he wants is to curl up on his bed. Smoke a pack of cigarettes. Get drunk. He can’t stop looking at Harry.

“Remus...” Dumbledore is gentle. Remus hates when he has that tone. Hates that he knows it will hurt. “There is no one else left.”

A bitter laugh escapes him. “So you’ll curse the poor thing with a werewolf for a guardian?”

[atelierlili]

It's time take you back to the past

to play the shitty games that suck ass.

Some besties wanted a list of Everlark fics recs where Katniss and/or Peeta are blasted to the past/alternate universe to relive the events of the games to fix it, so here we are!

Time Is Never Found Again...Or Is It? (113,000 + words) by blahblahblah1703

Katniss, after talking to Snow in his rose garden, finds herself somehow back in her childhood home. She has seven months until she enters the arena for the 74th annual Hunger Games, along with the love of her life, who when she last saw him, was still struggling not to kill her, just perfect.

The pre-game everlark that happens here is 🤌. This is part one of a larger series. The sequel (which is wonderful as well) can be found here. This is the series that got me into this rabbit hole.

Afterburn ( 104,000+ words) by BlueMaple

Katniss Everdeen-Mellark goes to the woods surrounding New Appalachia, a.k.a the former District Twelve, on the morning of the fiftieth anniversary of the final Reaping of the Hunger Games. There, she is literally waylaid by her own past, and wakes in the past, six weeks before Primrose was first Reaped. Alone, grieving, terrified, and without a clue on how she got there (and then), she realizes that it will be impossible for her- on every level- to simply live through events as they transpired in her personal future. With no way to return her to that future, she is nevertheless determined to get back to her own party - hopefully with a lot less damage and fewer crucial casualties along the way.

This is apart of the All Sorrows Less series, which is still being updated. It's filled with wonderful side characters, mindblowing twists, a baby I will kill people for and GILF Katniss, what more can I say?

Second Burn ( 127,000+ words) by carnationhes

Katniss wonders if things could be different if she got a second chance. And then she gets one. This morning she wakes up back in District 12 after Peeta's warning of the bombing on Thirteen.

Have you read Second burn? Why haven't you read it yet? You should read it. It's amazing. Literally makes my brain chemistry tingle. I think this is most accurate depiction of a Katniss being blasted to the past with no meta explanation why. It's sooo soo soo good. I'm on my knees please read it and please read the sequel Ignite as well. This series is so underated please.

over and over (lost again) (13,000+ words) by TeaBrigadier

I died in the Hunger Games. It isn’t even the first time it’s happened. I’ve died in the Hunger Games five times now

This is a very self contained time loop where Katniss continuously relieves the first games until she gets it right. I know it doesn't really fit the theme, but this one makes my feel happy feelings and i wanted to recommend something that's isn't so long so I'm adding it anyway. Deathloops are fun!

Ongoing:

Catching sparks (19k words) (Last update 26 Feb 2024) by Silver_Cleo

The time when 23 year old Katniss and Peeta get transported from their home in what had once been Victor's Village of District 12, and into the bodies of their much younger selves, who have just woken up from exiting the arena of the 74th Hunger Games.

Here Katniss and Peeta get traveled to the past to the point where they just win their games. It's a great WIP. I love Everlark working together and being cute + humanizing the 74th tributes and their family <3

I'm probably missing a few, but these are my favourite ones so far. As much as I love the trope, I know it's a monster to take on from a writing standpoint so props to the writers!

I hope you enjoy them <3 There's nothing I love more than shining a light on amazing fics new and old. If you have recs of your own, please send them my way. I love this trope so much haha

@bbrooklynbabe @nightlocked-in @waywardangel-wilds

[sequinsmile-x]

300

Emily, Aaron and their love as observed by their friends.

AKA - the five times the team see them love each other, and the one time they don't even try to hide it.

My 300th Hotchniss fic

Part 1/2

-x-

Hi friends,

I truly cannot believe we are here, that I have written 300(!!) fics about these two idiots. I went back and forth a lot on what to write for this, but I got an ask requesting a fic where the team see these two being all soft with each other and it's perfect. A return to my fluffy roots.

Thank you so much for still being here, for interacting with my fics and still making me feel nothing short of giddy whenever I get a comment or kudos. Writing makes me feel better, and it never gets any less amazing when people tell me my writing helps them too.

Anyway, here is part 1 of this two 2 part fic to celebrate this milestone. Part 2 will be up in the next day or so.

Here's to the next 300! <3

-x-

Words: 5.3k

Warnings: None!

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Dave

He smiles as he looks around his backyard, a mix of happiness and scotch making his skin fizz as he watches his friends have fun. 

It was something they’d all needed after another day full of close calls. Their jobs had always been dangerous, had always come with the risk of one of them getting hurt, but ever since Emily had died, since they’d had to bury her, it all felt sharper. He’d come to wonder at the end of those long seven months when she was dead to everyone other than JJ and Aaron if something was up, if he had the full truth, but even when she walked into the conference room he hadn’t quite believed it. 

“I’ve got to say,” Emily says, walking over to him as if he’d summoned her by thinking about her, a wry smile on her face, “I’m impressed at how quickly you pulled all of this together.”

Dave takes a sip of his drink as he looks at her, “It helps to have connections.” 

Her smile turns mischievous, a spark in it he worried he’d never see again for a while. She’d been different when she came back, wearing her trauma, the things she’d somehow survived, as a veil. Something that kept her further back from them all than she had once been. Then something had changed out of seemingly nowhere, her smile was real again. She joined in when Derek and Spencer were playing pranks on each other. He chastised himself for not putting two and two together, for not realising her shift in behaviour matched up with Aarons, how they both seemed happier than he had ever known them. 

It was only when they told them that they were together that the pieces fell into place. He’d claimed to already know, something Emily rolled her eyes at immediately, but they’d covered it well. Even now he had to watch closely to see the small moments between them. It didn’t surprise him, they were both intensely private even separately, so together they’d go to lengths to protect their relationship - even from those who cared about them. 

If he hadn’t already known about them, if they hadn’t finally admitted to the change in their relationship just a couple of weeks ago, he would have figured it out the moment Emily stepped into the bank. Aaron had been beside himself, a tension in his shoulders and jaw that Dave hadn’t seen in years. When Emily emerged from the bank, okay but shaken, she’d all but thrown herself into Aaron’s arms, their embrace tight as they whispered things no one else could hear to each other. 

“I guess it also helps that you’ve planned four weddings before,” she quips, and he rolls his eyes, shaking his head at her.

“Three,” he corrects, “I’ve been married three times.”

She shrugs playfully, suppressing her smile as she presses her lips together, “Sorry. Three.” 

His response is cut off as Aaron walks over, a smile on his face as he passes Emily a glass of wine. 

“Here you go, sweetheart,” he says, his smile getting wider as she looks at him. It’s as if they briefly forget anyone else is around when their eyes meet, so focused on each other that Dave thinks he could catch fire and they wouldn’t notice. 

Emily smiles softly and presses a kiss to Aaron’s cheek, side steeping a little closer to him so she can wrap her arm around his waist, “Thanks, honey.” 

Dave can’t help but smile as he watches them, how Aaron wraps his arm around her shoulders, his palm against her bare arm as he smiles at her. They were being affectionate with each other in a way they usually would be, encouraged by a mix of alcohol and the remnants of the danger she’d been in earlier, and it only confirms what he already knew.

They were in love with each other. 

Emily frowns at him when she turns and looks at him to find that he is still watching them, “What?” 

He shakes his head and clears his throat, “Nothing.” 

She narrows her eyes but turns back to Aaron, tilting her head as their eyes meet, “Want to dance?” 

Aaron hesitates, grimacing slightly as he looks towards the dance floor, “I’m not a big dancer, Em.” 

She places her hand on his chest, her fingers playing with the open neck of his collar, and she bats her eyelashes, something Dave can see from where he’s standing, “Come on, please. For me.” 

Aaron sighs and shakes his head, “Fine, for you,” he says, pressing a kiss to her lips before he shifts his hand to her lower back to turn her towards the dance floor. He turns and looks at Dave over his shoulder and looks pointedly at his friend, “Don’t say a word.”

He holds up his hand in defence and smiles, “Wouldn’t dare.” 

He can’t help but watch as they dance together, again lost in their own little world as they move around the dance floor. Aaron whispers something that makes Emily laugh, her head turned towards him as she captures his lips in a kiss, either not caring or not realising that everyone is looking over at them curiously. 

As he walks towards the bar for another drink, he can’t help but wonder if this was the only wedding he’d be hosting in his backyard for his friends. 

___

JJ

She grimaces as she slams down the empty shot glass, shaking her head as the liquor burns her throat. 

“Another round?” 

JJ groans as she looks up at Penelope, shaking her head vehemently, the movement making her feel briefly even drunker, “Absolutely not.” 

Emily sips her beer, her face covered in a scowl as she tries to chase away the taste of the absinthe, “I’m with JJ,” she says, clearing her throat, “Is it just me, or did absinthe used to go down a little easier?” 

“It’s not just you,” JJ assures her, and they both chuckle. Penelope huffs and sits back down, rolling her eyes at her friends.

“You two used to be fun.” 

Emily chuckles and places her hand on Penelope’s arm, “We’re still fun,” she insists, “But Aaron is on his way to pick me up and I really don’t want to throw up in his car.” 

JJ can’t help but smile as her friend mentions her boyfriend, how her eyes light up slightly, her usual ability to school her features inhibited by the number of shots Penelope had forced on them. In the two months they’d known about Aaron and Emily they’d given very little away about their relationship. They kept it to themselves, to the point where often if JJ didn’t know they were together she wouldn’t see it. They’d always been private, and even tonight Emily hadn’t said much, no matter how much Penelope tried to pry information out of her. 

She was happy for Emily, and for Aaron too, delighted that they’d found the happiness that they deserved after everything they’d been through. 

At the mention of Aaron and Emily’s relationship, Penelope immediately lights up, her nose scrunching up slightly, “It’s still so weird to hear you call him that.” 

Emily smiles and furrows her brow, “What, Aaron?” She asks teasingly, sipping her beer as her smile turns mischievous, “Did you really expect me to call him Hotch after we started fuc-”

“Okay, stop,” Penelope says, shivering slightly, “I don’t like to think of him like that,” she says dramatically, “I’d prefer to carry on thinking of him as a once a year, in the dark and under the covers kind of guy.”

Emily laughs, throwing her head back as she does so, the sound loud and joyful as it escapes her, “I can assure you Pen, that absolutely is not the case.” 

JJ looks up as she hears the door to the bar open and she spots Aaron walking in, and she waves him over. It catches Emily’s attention and she looks over her shoulder, her smile impossibly wide as she turns back around and gets out of her chair. 

JJ watches as Emily bounds over to Aaron, slightly unsteady on the high heels she’d been complaining about all night. She wraps her arms around Aaron the moment she makes it to his side, and his hands land on her waist, steadying her as she almost stumbles against him. She stamps her lips against his, and JJ has to hide a laugh behind her drink when Aaron pulls back, his eyes nervously darting over to her and Penelope. Emily leads him over, both of her arms wrapped around one of his as he smiles slightly awkwardly, endearing in a way that JJ wouldn’t have expected. 

“Hello Sir,” Penelope says, sitting up straight, clearly trying to act more sober than she was. 

Aaron chuckles lightly and shakes his head, “Hi,” he says, looking back and forth between the two of them, “You don’t have to call me Sir we’re not at work.” 

Emily chuckles and buries her face in his shoulder, kissing him through the thin material of his shirt. He pulls her slightly closer, his hand running up and down her side, and it’s something thats so tender, so soft, JJ aches. It was all the proof she needs that this was it for them, that they truly were the happy ending they both deserved. 

“Do either of you need me to take you home?” He asks, clearing his throat and attempting to hide a smile as Emily clearly grabs his ass, her well known tactile nature when she was drunk making an appearance. 

JJ shakes her head, “No, thank you though. Will is already on his way and he’s going to drop Pen home too.” 

He smiles and nods and looks down at Emily, his smile adoring as she looks up at him,” You ready to go?” 

She nods and looks over at her friends, waving goodbye instead of hugging them like she usually would, seemingly unable to tear herself away from her boyfriend. 

“Let me know when you’re home, okay?” She says, and both JJ and Penelope nod, she smiles at them once more before she and Aaron turn around and leave. JJ watches them until they are no longer in the bar, disappearing into the night outside. 

“They are adorable,” Penelope says and JJ smiles as she looks at her. 

“They really are,” she agrees and then she feels her phone vibrate in her pocket, and she pulls it out to see a message from Will, “Oh Will is here.” 

They finish their drinks and head outside. She smiles as she spots her husband leaning against his car, his arms crossed over his chest and a smile on his face. 

“Hi darling,” he says, smiling as she walks over and kisses him, “Did you ladies have fun?” 

She smiles as Penelope stumbles as she tries to get into the back of the car, “Some of us more than others.” 

She walks around the car to get into the passenger side and she hears a laugh that sounds a lot like Emily’s. She follows the sound and freezes when she sees her, happily on Aaron’s back as he gives her a piggyback. Aaron is walking towards his car, Emily’s shoes in one hand and the other one of her legs, securing her to his back as she leans in, her lips against his ear as she laughs. 

It was something she wouldn’t believe happened if she hadn’t seen it herself, a playful moment between two people who so rarely showed that side of them, but it was also full of love and tender care. She can imagine Emily complaining that her feet hurt and Aaron immediately offering to help. 

“Ready to go darling?” Will asks, pulling her out of what she was watching and she turns to look at him and smiles as she climbs into the car. 

She tries to spot them again but can’t and she sighs happily as she settles into her seat, happiness for her friends warming her from the inside out. 

___

Spencer 

He was always the first to the jet. 

It was a pattern he knew well. He’d be there first, then Aaron. Then JJ, Dave and Derek in that order. Emily was always last, never late but always last, a smile on her face as Dave inevitably made a comment about it. 

It was the first thing he’d noticed. Emily suddenly started arriving just a few minutes after Aaron, an air about her that Spencer hadn’t seen since Ian Doyle had torn through their lives. He couldn’t place it, his curiosity mostly focused on why she was all of a sudden consistently showing up to work just after Aaron, disrupting the pattern he’d long since relied on. It’s only when he spots Aaron sneaking out of Emily’s room one morning, Spencer’s morning hunt for coffee interrupted as he hid out of the way so the other man didn’t spot him, that he put it together. 

They were seeing each other. 

After that, he noticed so much more. How they’d sit next to each other at every given opportunity, how they’d seek each other out in a room, a tension in their shoulders until they saw each other. They were both undeniably happier, and for a reason he didn’t understand keeping it to themselves. He kept the secret for them, never hinting that he knew, even when they finally told the team that they were together he simply smiled and nodded, aware that no one would have expected him to pick up on it anyway. 

He checks his watch and looks at the time, huffing out a breath. He looks out the window and, right on schedule, he spots Aaron and Emily on the tarmac. They’d dropped any pretence that they weren’t travelling in together the moment they told them all about their relationship a few months ago. He watches them curiously as they stop a few feet short of the steps leading up to the jet. 

Aaron has both of their go bags slung over his shoulder and they are holding hands. Emily lifts their joint hands to her lips and kisses the back of his hand, smiling as she says something Spencer can’t hear before she leans in and stamps a kiss to Aaron’s lips. He then pulls her into a hug, his hand running up and down her back for a moment before he says something too, kissing her cheek before he pulls away. 

They step apart from each other, and Spencer realises that he’s watching them switch from Aaron and Emily into Hotch and Prentiss, a transition that appears seamless as Emily walks up the stairs to the jet first. Aaron just behind her, her bag over his shoulder the only sign that they were anything other than colleagues.

“Morning, Spence,” Emily says, smiling as she steps onto the jet slipping into the seat opposite him. 

“Morning,” he replies, flashing a smile at her as Aaron places their bags in the overhead compartments, and he nods as they make eye contact, “Hotch.” 

“Morning Reid,” he says, his smile turning slightly soft as he looks at Emily, “Coffee?” 

She nods, “Yes please.” 

Aaron turns to go to the kitchenette but turns back, “Reid?” 

He shakes his head and holds up the coffee he had in his hands, “I’m good, thank you.” 

Aaron disappears behind the curtain and Emily turns to look at Spencer, smiling curiously as their eyes meet, “You okay?” 

They smile at each other. Spener had never had a sister, but he wondered if this is what it felt like to have one. He’d mourned Emily in a way that still hurt if he thought about it, the loss of her leaving a hole in his chest that he still felt at times. He loved her as a friend, as someone he knew he could trust with his life, and he wanted nothing more than for her to be happy. 

He nods and clears his throat, “Yeah, I’m okay,” he replies, smiling at his friend, his lips pressed together as he tries to figure out what to say, “I’m…I’m happy for you and Hotch.”

She smiles, her cheeks going slightly red as she avoids eye contact and looks at the table between them, “Oh,” she says, biting her lower lip “Thank you. I’m happy for us too.” 

Aaron walks back out, unaware of the moment he’d walked in on and he places a cup of coffee in front of Emily before placing his down. 

“Don’t panic,” he says dryly as he sits down next to her, “But they ran out of Splenda,” he says and she scoffs, but before she can say anything Aaron reaches into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulls out two single serve packets of Splenda and places them in front of her, “Good thing I came prepared.”

“My hero,” She gasps playfully, the sound turning into a chuckle as she kisses his cheek, seemingly briefly forgetting where they were, Aaron smiles and clears his throat, looking quickly at Spencer, and Emily does the same, clearing her throat as she sits backwards, “Thanks for the coffee,” she says, smiling as she tears the packets open, paying attention to her drink as she adds the sweetener in, her smile turning playful as she looks back up at him, “Hotch.”

They look at each other in a way that Spencer doesn’t entirely understand, smiles passing over both of their faces very briefly before Aaron responds. 

“You’re welcome, Prentiss.” 

___

Penelope 

She was excited to spend the weekend with Sergio. 

Penelope hadn’t wanted to give him back to Emily at first, knowing she’d miss the company of the adorable black cat, but she knew it was the right thing to do. He was Emily’s pet, a piece of normality she deserved after everything she’d been through. 

So when Emily asked if she’d watch Sergio for the weekend since she knew she was going away with Aaron and Jack, a weekend away just the three of them, she’d jumped at the chance. She’d got out all of the bits and pieces she’d bought when she had Sergio, meaning all she needed to get from Emily was the carrier and Sergio himself. 

Penelope knocks on Emily’s front door and waits patiently for a few seconds as the door opens. Emily smiles as she pulls it open, stepping back to let Penelope in.

“Pen, hi,” she says, looking as gorgeous as ever, even though she was simply wearing her pjyamas made of a t-shirt and leggings. She was fresh out of the shower, her hair damp against her large light grey t-shirt, darker patches of material over her shoulders wetted by her hair, “Good timing, I only just got out of the shower.” 

Penelope chuckles as she looks around, keeping an eye out for the cat, “Where’s my man?” 

“Well-” she starts, but she’s cut off as Aaron walks into the room, his hair equally as wet as Emily’s, with Sergio in his arms, the cat laying in his embrace like a baby, his black paws reaching up for his face. 

“Em, someone’s acting up. I think he knows we’re going away for the…” he says, trailing off when he realises they aren’t alone, his back immediately straightening as he looks at Penelope, “Garcia,” he says, clearing his throat when Emily raises an amused eyebrow at him, a reminder of a conversation Penelope hadn’t been privy to, “I mean, Penelope. Hi.” 

She suppresses a smile at how uncomfortable he clearly is, and she decides to be as calm about this as possible, knowing if she made too big a deal of seeing this tiny insight into their lives they’d both clam up. 

“Sir…Hotch,” she says, watching as Emily walks over to Aaron and leans against him, taking the opportunity to scratch Sergio under his chin, “I didn’t realise you’d be here.”

“Well,” he says, shrugging slightly, “Jack is with Jessica this evening, so I thought I’d help Emily with her packing for our trip.” 

Emily scoffs playfully, “I can pack by myself.” 

“Sure, sweetheart,” he says, seemingly more relaxed by the second. Penelope can’t help but look at them, how comfortable they are together, how easy it seems for them to be around each other. She feels almost giddy as she imagines their future, a baby in Aaron’s embrace instead of Sergio, and she has to shake her head at herself to stop herself from getting carried away. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Sergio more relaxed,” Penelope says, laughing as the cat stretches as if he knew he was being spoken about. 

“Oh, Aaron is his favourite person in the whole world now,” Emily says, taking the cat from Aaron, laughing when he tries to scramble back into his arms, “We’ve been replaced, Pen.” 

“This is such a betrayal, Serg,” she gasps playfully as she takes the cat from Emily, scratching his head, and when she looks back up Aaron has his arm wrapped around Emily again, his hand against a t-shirt Penelope now realises must be his. 

“In Sergio’s defence,” Emily says, her palm on Aaron’s chest, “He does give excellent hugs.” 

They all stand in silence for a few moments and Penelope just takes the chance to watch them together, how they look at each other as if no one else was in the room. She wishes she’d meddled more years ago when she first brought up the option of Aaron as a potential date to Emily. She wanted them to have had this for so much longer than the six months they had, but she also knows that they needed to get to where they were now for this to work, that the timing was right. They’d survived everything they had to make it here. 

“I’ll make sure to send you pictures of him whilst you’re gone,” she says, scratching Sergio’s head, “As long as you do the same,” she adds, laughing as she winks at them. 

Emily laughs and walks over, hugging her friend and leaning in to kiss Sergio’s head, her voice low and conspiratory, but purposely loud so Aaron still hears her, “I’ll get a picture on the beach for you.” 

Aaron rolls his eyes lovingly but doesn’t say anything as he hands over the cat carrier, holding it open as Penelope puts Sergio inside of it. 

“Have a lovely weekend,” she says, picking up the carrier, “I’ll make sure no cases come through.”

“Penelope…” Aaron says warningly, his tone lost as Emily talks over him.

“Thank you, you’re the best.” 

They exchange goodbyes, and as she leaves she turns back and catches sight of them before the door closes. Aaron wraps his arm around Emily, her surprised yelp ringing out in the hallway before the door shuts, and she just about sees him lean in to kiss her before they disappear from view. 

Sergio meows from his carrier and Penelope looks down at him before she starts heading towards the elevator, “Come on Serg, I think it’s time I start getting you ready to be a big brother.” 

She wondered if it was too early to plan a bachelorette party for her friend before she was even engaged.  

___

Derek

He knows he’s the one who struggled with their relationship the most. 

Everyone else was happy, almost giddy, when Emily and Aaron told them they were together, but it had left him with a bitter taste on his tongue. The fallout of finding out about Emily’s past, and the decisions she’d made, were still difficult for him to grapple with. He didn’t know how to feel about the fact she’d ended up with their boss, the man who had led them all to believe she was dead for seven months, so he’d distanced himself from them both. 

His mother had always taught him if he didn’t have something nice to say, he shouldn’t say it at all, so he says nothing. He knows neither of them are stupid, that they would have picked up on his feelings about it all, but they don’t say anything either, nothing more than a sharp look Aaron would send in his direction if he blew Emily off when she asked if he wanted to get a drink after work. 

Derek listens as Penelope gushes over them, how she whispers to him about what they’d been like when she went to pick up Sergio just a few weeks before, how she even bets him $50 that Emily and Aaron are the real deal, but he still struggles. He hadn’t seen them interact romantically beyond a quick kiss here and there when they were out as a group, and he couldn’t see it. Couldn’t see the softness that he’d had described to him by two people he’d never seen that way with anyone. Even when Aaron was married to Haley he kept that part of his life to himself, never giving more of a hint than his arm around his wife’s shoulders in a bar. 

Emily sighs next to him, blowing air out through her lips as they kept an eye on the building the unsub was in, the team all around them. 

“You ok over there Prentiss?” 

She nods at him, her smile tight as she raises her hand to her lips, biting her cuticle, “Yeah,” she says quickly, “I’ll just be happy when this takedown is over.” 

She’d made her feelings on it clear, her unhappiness that Aaron was going in alone to a hostage situation so the unsub didn’t hurt anyone else obvious from the moment the idea was floated by them. 

“Hotch can handle himself,” Derek says, raising an eyebrow at her, “He’s been through worse.”

“I know what he’s been through,” she snaps, her control on a knife edge as she looks at him, “Better than you do. I just don’t…” she shakes her head and chuckles, looking back at the building her boyfriend had walked into, “I don’t see the need for unnecessary risk.” 

“Would you be this worried if it was me or Rossi in there?” He asks, genuinely curious, “Or is it just because you’re sleeping with him?” 

She looks sharply at him, a scoff escaping her as her eyes harden, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

Before he can reply their radio clicks and the local detective’s voice comes over it, “The suspect is apprehended, we need a medic.” 

Emily’s eyes go wide, and she presses the button on her radio, “Who we do need a medic for?” She asks, already walking towards the building, shaking off his arm as she goes. 

“Agent Hotchner was hit.” 

Emily takes off at a run and Derek follows her, yelling her name but she ignores him, rushing into the building before it’s officially cleared. He’s only a few paces behind her, and he’s relieved when he walks in to find Aaron conscious and sitting on the floor, a cut on his forehead as he hugs Emily tightly, her arms wrapped around him. 

“Are you okay?” She asks, cupping Aaron’s cheeks as she sits back on her heels, her eyes scanning over his face, “He said you were hit, I thought…”

“Sweetheart,” he says, placing his hand over hers on his cheek and turning his head to kiss her palm, an intimate moment Derek feels strange observing, but he can’t tear his gaze away, “I’m okay. I promise. He hit me with his gun.” 

Emily sighs and leans forward, as if the air had been knocked out of her as she kisses him, the kiss desperate as a breath shudders out of her, “I’m so…I thought…” 

“I know,” Aaron says, tucking some of her hair behind her ear, comforting her as if she was the one who’d been hurt, “I’m okay, I promise.” He repeats, his smile kind and loving as he pulls her hand from his cheek and kisses it, “I’m okay.”

She nods, a sound escaping her that Derek thinks is close to a sob and she smiles, “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he replies, and Derek feels frozen in place, his assumptions about their relationship shattered around his feet. He only realises he’s staring when Emily looks at him, residual anger from his comment outside still lingering in her eyes. 

“Morgan, can you get the paramedics, he needs looking at.” 

Aaron sighs, “Em, I’m seriously-”

She places her hand on Aaron’s shoulder without even looking at him, holding him in place, “The paramedics please.”

Derek nods wordlessly and leaves, making a purposeful choice not to walk back in once he’s directed the EMTs to where they are, making himself busy by directing civilians around and helping the local cops. It’s later when Aaron walks out with nothing but a bandage on his head, Emily by his side, hovering nearby as much as she can with them still being in a professional setting. It wouldn’t take a profiler to see how she was barely holding herself together, how seeing the man she loved hurt had shaken her, and all of a sudden all the unkind thoughts he’d had about their relationship weigh heavily on him. 

Aaron is insistent on seeing the case through, already talking to Dave, waving off his concern as he talks about their game plan when it comes to interrogating the unsub. Derek walks over to where Emily is standing, her gaze fixed on Aaron as if he might disappear at any moment, her cuticle back in between her teeth. Derek takes a deep breath and walks over to her, scratching the back of his head as he makes it to her side. 

“Em-”

She groans and looks at him, “Can we not do this right now, Derek?” She asks, sounding nothing short of exhausted, “I don’t-”

“I wanted to apologise,” he says, cutting over her, knowing he wasn’t going to say it otherwise, “I haven’t been a good friend lately,” he says, looking over at Aaron, “If he makes you happy, that should be enough.”

She nods and crosses her arms over her chest, “Yes, it should be,” she says, raising her eyebrows as she looks at him and shrugs, “I don’t understand what your issue with this is. I…I think have an idea but I don’t want to get into it now,” she says chuckling humourlessly as she shakes her head, “But can I just ask you to do something?”

He nods, “Of course.” 

She smiles wryly, “Can you maybe get your head out of your ass before we get married and have kids?” She says casually, “Because thats where this is going, and it would suck to not have you involved in any of this.”

He thinks it might be the most honest thing she’s ever said to him, certainly the most vulnerable. Layers of herself that she’d hidden from him, from them all, for years shining through from under the armour she’d had since she was young. It makes any lingering negative thoughts about their relationship disappear and he nods, reaching out and squeezing her arm. 

“I think I can do that,” he says, smiling softly at her, and she smiles too, briefly squeezing his hand before she steps away, walking towards Aaron as if pulled towards him.

Derek stands in place and watches as she walks over, her hand on Aaron’s back as she steps next to him, both of them relaxing in each other's presence. 

He sighs as he turns away, looking for something to do, and he idly realises he owes Penelope $50. 

-x-

Tag List:

@ssa-sparks, @ptrckjcne, @lyds102, @glockleveledatyourcrotch, @hotchnissenthusiast, @danadeservesadrink, @ssamorganhotchner, @emilyprentissisgod, @notagentprentiss, @freesiasandfics, @emilyshotchniss, @thecharmingart, @paulitalblond, @hancydrewfan, @camille093, @whitecrossgirl, @moonlight-2-6, @rawr-jess, @florenceremingtonthethird, @jareauswife, @ms-black-a, @beebeelank, @aubreyprc, @zipzapboingg, @psychopath-at-heart, @criminalmindsgonewrong, @fionaloover, @kinqslcys, @prentissinred, @ccmattis-22, @denvivale317, @thrindis, @hotchsguccitie, @cmfouatslota77, @alexblakegf, @aliensaurusrex, @prentissxhotch, @emobabeyy, @victoiregranger, @stormyweatherth, @wanderingdreamer009, @ssablackbird, @luhwithah, @lex13cm, @prentiss-theorem, @dont-emily-me, @mrs-ssa-hotch, @jocyycreation, @itsmytimetoodream, @hotchnissgroupie, @controversialpooh, @capsshinyshield, @canuck-eh

Join my tag list here!

[stcverogers]

JANUARY FIC RECS!

fics that i’ve been reading and obsessing with over the month of january

this is extremely important and i take this very seriously out of respect for the community. please do remember to read the rules for the respective blogs before interacting with or reading them.

F: fluff A: angst S: smut

𖥻 - series /multi part

masterlist

BUCKY BARNES

F: how's your head? by @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky you and bucky didn't exactly have a meet-cute. your first encounter is you bleeding from your head.

F: bucky being shy around a girl he likes + part 2 by @ro-is-struggling

F + A: through his eyes by @sebbytrash 𖥻 ever since bucky came to the compound, he always thought you were familiar. when he slowly regains his memories as the winter soldier, he is horrified.

F: pastel colours by @the-canary 𖥻 mr barnes, the physics teacher, seems to have a thing for stealing pens. you, an avid stationary collector, cannot stand it.

F + A: caught in the fire by @dreamwritesimagines 𖥻 growing up in a bakery right in the middle of a mob neutral zone, it’s no surprise you and bucky barnes become the best of friends. life gets in the way and you facing circumstances. whether you let bucky stand by you through it all is up to you.

A: say it by @sgtjbuccky 𖥻 you love bucky with all that you have. sacrificing yourself to save him included.

F + A: the new recruit by @angstysebfan 𖥻 you and bucky were in a good place. a new recruit to shields threatens to take it all away

F + A: picture perfect by @writingsoftheloser 𖥻 you're steve's fake girlfriend to help make his crush jealous. you meet his best friend and fall in love with him. all while trying to keep up your facade with steve.

F + A: something domestic by @fandoms-writings 𖥻 a majority of bucky's adult life has been dedicated to the military. losing an arm and being discharged leaves bucky to try and rediscover who he is, even if it meant living a hundred miles away from the city in the middle of nowhere.

F + A: heart of glass by @buckybabesonly you and bucky rarely had disagreements, let alone he be angry at you.

F + A: accidentally in love by @creativebeang 𖥻 sargeant barnes was a complete hardass. he always had something to critique you about. a mission gone wrong flips a switch in his head and suddenly he's all over you.

F + A: the ask out by @delaber bucky barnes is no longer the charming boytoy he once was. it's completely evident in his interaction with you.

F: old fashioned by @demxters bucky was traditional, old fashioned, nothing like other men of current times.

F + A: personal ghosts by @fandoms-writings you lose bucky to the snap and he presence looms over you even after he's gone

F + A: they don't know you the way i do by @themorningsunshine bucky overhears a conversation between a few agents, agreeing with what they have to say about him.

A: out of time by @drailyter all good things must come to an end, your relationship included

F + A: the outbreak + part 2 by @stxrvel in your head, a self sacrifice is nothing as compared to a successful mission. bucky thinks differently and it causes your friendship with him to crumble.

F: missed you by @stuckylaufeyson bucky comes home from work missing you more than usual.

F + A: relationship tutor by @samingtonwilson 𖥻 bucky is infatuated with natasha rudolph, who you happen to know from your yoga class. you reluctantly agree to be his wingwoman.

F + A: looking for a heartbeat by @justreadingfics 𖥻 you left without a word 2 years ago to finally pursue what you have been searching for your whole life. you're back in new york now and it seems that bucky's long moved on from you

F + A: vacant mirrors by @whirlybirbs 𖥻 the blip chipped away at everyone. you were no different. dr hart shares an office with fellow therapist dr raynor. this meant that you shared a waiting room with one james buchanan barnes.

F + A: time after time by @justsomebucky 𖥻 at just seven years old, your parents got divorced. you move in next door to the barnes family. it's only right that you became friends with bucky.

F + A: until his last breath by @witchywithwhiskey bucky comforts you after a break up with your long-term boyfriend.

AARON HOTCHNER

F: mess of mine + i'm a mess but by @hotchgirlsummer you are far from SSA hotchner's type. he usually goes for those older, mature. not adorably clueless women who work at a clothes shop.

F + A: 'tis the season by @happiest-hotch 𖥻 hotch needs his family to get off his back when he visits them for the holidays. you come up with the terrible idea of being his fake-date. what's worse? you have feelings for him.

F: the mark of a lover by @wildflowerluver aaron hotchner is not a touchy person. the five times hotch has to adjust to your physical affection and the one time he embraces it

THE BATMAN

F + A: all for us by @the-daydreaming-show 𖥻 jason's death had been tragic for the waynes. you will do whatever it takes for you to be the happy family you once were.

F + A: one bad day... by @a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all 𖥻 bruce refuses to avenge jason's death due to his moral code. you, however, do not share the same morals as him.

S: the billionaire affair by @kaleidoscopewritings19 𖥻 you and bruce rekindle an old flame, despite being married.

[zablife]

Tachipen (Part 5)

Summary: With the flip of a coin, Tommy makes a deal to bring a young gypsy girl into the Shelby clan. Considering her too young to marry, he takes pity on her and employs her as a nanny for John’s children instead. The arrangement soon sours when Tommy believes his horse has been cursed and demands her help stealing from the Lees. When she seeks solace in John’s company, an innocent romance blossoms, but a war with the Lees and Polly’s poorly-timed advice drive them apart in a way that will change their history forever. As the scenes from the present reveal, Y/n must watch the Shelby men go on to love others while she is shut out. However, the events of one tragic afternoon could change everything.

Author’s Note: After a 5 month hiatus, this story is back! I'll be updating more regularly now that I've outlined more of the fic. The story is told through flashbacks, but I will note the year. Tommy meets y/n in 1919 and the story goes thru present time which is the year of the vendetta, 1925. 

Warnings: language, ethnic slur, implied smut, mention of pregnancy, mention of arranged marriage

Part 4

1924

The frosted glass shook as Polly forcefully closed John’s office door, her eyes darting from you to her nephew. “What is this I hear about the two of you sniping at one another like bloody children?”

You and John both started speaking at once and Polly shouted over you to assert authority. “That’s enough! John, perhaps you could explain why you’re even in the office today?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Y/n is perfectly capable of supervising the other girls.”

John opened and closed his mouth a few times in shock, giving the appearance of a fish out of water before you interjected. “He’s been hovering over me for weeks, Pol. Won’t let me finish one fucking job without trying to find a mistake!”

John pointed a finger in your direction as he retorted, “If she could keep her mind on her work instead of her love life for a change--”

“Would you stop?!" you screamed, interrupting him mid-sentence. You felt the emotion welling in your chest and did your best to keep from crying. Running a shaky hand through your hair, you took a deep breath to regain control before continuing your plea to Polly. "I did as I was told. I broke up with Angel and I apologized…” you stopped before you broke down, then continued with the part that stung most, “for the inconvenience.” Those had been the words Arthur insisted you use. He’d probably consulted Linda about it at the first sign of trouble, you thought bitterly. 

Polly softened at your show of emotion, reaching across the table for your hand. “Alright, I think I understand. John, would you leave us, please?” John nodded with clenched jaw, pushing out of his chair with more force than necessary. He looked back at you as he crossed to the door and you swore you saw a brief shadow of remorse cross his handsome features though you couldn’t be sure with the lingering tension between you.

When you were finally alone, Polly began, “Y/n, I’m sorry about this. I know you’re upset about the Changretta boy and I don’t blame you, but what’s done is done. And you must understand that John is under a lot of stress at home. I’m not sure if you know this, but there's another little one on the way,” she said hesitantly.

“Again?” you nearly shrieked. It was the third time in the nearly four years he'd been married. 

Polly nodded slowly. “You see why he’s so on edge lately?”

You swallowed thickly, thinking of how chaotic the household must be with six children, soon to be seven. Although you attempted a shred of compassion for his new wife, you couldn’t manage it. “Yes, I understand,” you said in a quiet monotone. “He has a lot of people depending on him.” It was what Polly wanted to hear so you spoke the words, turning your head away so she couldn’t read your expression.

“Exactly. I know it doesn’t excuse his behavior here, but we all have to learn to get along,” she advised, giving your hand a gentle squeeze before leaving you alone in the room. A bitter laugh escaped your throat at the thought of any of you living peacefully after all you’d inflicted upon one another. 

—————————————————-

1919

As the first rays of dawn broke, you sat up in bed, face aching from the bruise across your cheek and your mind reeling from the events of the previous day. If Tommy hadn’t trusted you before, there was no hope for you now with so much cash missing from the betting shop, especially when he learned the Lees were to blame. How could he not think you were involved?

Panic setting into your bones, you decided to make a hasty retreat from Polly’s house while you still could. Despite the throbbing in your wrist, you slipped your dress over your head and silently turned the bedroom doorknob, giving the hallway a quick glance for occupants. With no signs of activity, you slipped quietly down the steps and right to the front door, knowing this would be the most difficult part of your escape. The rusty hinges creaked loudly and you cringed at the noise, well aware of how it carried throughout the house. Rightfully so as Tommy’s voice beckoned to you at the sound. “Where are you off to so early?” his husky voice called out.

You spun around to face him, heart pounding in your chest as you waited for his wrath to rain down upon you. You calculated the distance to the street, wondering if you might still be able to outrun him, when he suddenly closed the distance between you, shutting the door with a gentle push. 

As he stared into your eyes, he spoke again in a much softer voice. “I misjudged you."

You held your breath realizing how close he stood, the heat radiating off his body into yours. Transfixed by the intensity of his bright, blue eyes, you couldn’t help but stare back at him. The anxious flutter you felt in your stomach intensified as you waited to hear what he thought he knew about you.

“What you did for Ada last night was…” he looked away for a moment as he tried to find the words to express the gratitude he felt upon hearing of Ada’s difficult labor and delivery. “Well, my sister and nephew are alive because of you. You could have gone with the Lees, but you stayed here,” he said, emphasizing the last part. You realized he was recognizing the loyalty in your decision, though for you it had been a matter of common decency.

“Thank you,” he added hesitantly and you could tell from the way he said it, he didn’t make a habit of ingratiating himself to others.

“I only did what I thought was right,” you said, averting your eyes to the floorboards.

One look at your tense posture and Tommy took a step back to give you air. He gestured toward the table as he asked, “Will you sit with me?” You nodded slowly, crossing to join him at the kitchen table. Tommy took a seat and lit a cigarette, leaning back and tilting his head as he searched the ceiling through the rings of smoke. Then the words tumbled forth, breaking the awkward silence unexpectedly. 

“About that night in the stable… I brought you here to look after my family and I had to know I could trust you. Charlie thought you might have put a spell on the horse and for a moment I believed him.” Sitting up and looking you in the eye he added, “But when I asked you for the truth, I could tell by your reaction that it wasn’t your doing.”

Your eyes grew wide at his confession. You hadn’t expected him to speak of it ever again and the thought of him bringing it up now made you shudder. With a dismissive air and bitter tone you pushed it away saying, “M used to it. No one trusts gypsies.” You hugged your arms around your body to still your trembling limbs, hoping Tommy would’t recognize weakness in you.  

“It’s not right though,” he said looking you in the eye. “I should never have…”

“No, you shouldn’t, you bastard” you interjected, jaw firmly set at the mention of his cruel treatment. 

Tommy sucked his teeth as he flicked ash into a mug, giving your jab a moment to wash over him before responding. “I suppose I deserve that, but I want to make amends. Can we start fresh?” Tommy asked, blue eyes searching yours intently.

“Yes, I think so,” you agreed reluctantly, unsure how this turn of events had happened.

“Good,” he said with a nod. “Because I’d like to invite you to have a seat at the next family meeting.”

Your head was still swimming with Tommy’s apology so you weren’t quite sure you heard correctly. “What? When?” you sputtered.

“Today, we have to go on the offensive now that the Lees have struck a blow and you’re our best hope of understanding their way of thinking,” Tommy explained. 

You touched the bruise on the right side of your face that was turning to a dark shade of purple, thinking of how your sister was one of them by now. What would your scheming do to her, you wondered?

While you were lost in thought, Tommy leaned forward to examine your swollen wrist and you cried out at his touch. He lifted your hand and moved it carefully to see if there were any broken bones, a skill he’d learned during the war while attending to his men. Nodding thoughtfully he replied, “You’ve got a sprain. You should let me wrap it.” 

“Alright,” you agreed, watching as Tommy fetched a bandage and efficiently went about his work, a fresh cigarette hanging from his lower lip. His touch was surprisingly gentle and your mind wandered to the times you’d watched him with the horses. You recalled how they’d responded to him without the use of a whip, only the sound of his voice over the noise of the scrap metal yard. You couldn’t deny that there was something about his presence in this moment that you found calming.

The roughness of his voice cut the silence as he spoke for the first time since he began tending to you. “I’ll be off to John’s now,” he said with a nod as he stamped out his smoke and before you could ask anything more he was gone, leaving you in quiet contemplation of your new role within the family and everything you thought you knew about Tommy.

————————————-

“Open up!” A voice bellowed out before John’s front door swung open, footsteps falling hard and fast on the stairs leading to the bedroom.

John sat up quickly, pulling the duvet over his naked body before reaching for his revolver on the nightstand. Tommy burst in with John cursing, “Fuck, Tommy! When will you learn to knock?” 

“When will you learn to lock your bloody door? The Lees could still be in town for all we know,” Tommy scolded.

As the brothers argued, the woman beside John began to stir at the sound of their shouting. As she rolled over to face John, Tommy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as he caught sight of the woman’s familiar dark curls. John covered her quickly though he knew Tommy had already spied his secretary.

John tossed his gun onto the bedside table as he waved his brother off. “Alright, that’s enough! Get out!”

“Fine, but get dressed quickly. There’s business to discuss,” Tommy said, turning to leave. Then hesitating for a moment he called over his shoulder, “Lizzie, I want you at work by nine!”

She inhaled a sharp breath beneath the covers, embarrassed at being caught in bed with the boss’s younger brother. She’d gone to the Garrison to celebrate the new baby with everyone else from the office, but it was Tommy she’d been after. John just happened to be the brother who stumbled into the snug first.

After donning her dress and shoes, Lizzie leaned over with a warm smile and gave John a tender goodbye kiss. His head pounding from the hangover, he gave her only a sliver of affection in return, the reality of what he’d done hitting him full force. When he closed his eyes the only person he could see was you.

“I’ll be going, but I’d like to do this again. You never call me anymore,” she said biting her lip. Pulling back to study him she noticed John’s baby blue eyes didn’t dance with light as they had the night before.

“Listen, Lizzie…” he began, but Tommy interrupted, calling to him from downstairs. “We’ll talk later, yeah?” he said and she nodded cheerfully before pulling on her heels and clicking down the hall.

By the time John joined Tommy in the kitchen, Tommy was pacing like a wild animal. “Where the fuck were you yesterday, eh?” he asked, pointing a finger at his brother. 

John rubbed a hand over his face and shook his head slightly. He couldn’t think clearly. What had happened? Before he had time to reply, Tommy was stalking toward him angrily. “The betting shop was robbed by the Lees. Y/n and Ada could have been killed because you left your post, John!”

“Oh, fuck off, Tommy!” John replied. “This is not my fault! How was I meant to do collections for Arthur and run the shop? Scudboat was there anyhow,” he asserted, pulling his suspenders up with an annoyed roll of his neck.

“Except he wasn’t. He went to Charlie’s yard for the arrival of the new shipment which is why you were supposed to have been back by four!” Tommy said, slamming the kitchen table with his palm for emphasis. Running a hand through his hair he shook his head muttering, “You never fucking listen.”

John closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, another vision of you suddenly dancing across his eyelids. He’d noticed a deep red mark on your cheek and how you winced when Ada put too much pressure on your hand, but you’d both been so consumed with Ada’s labor. You’d been steadfast delivering the baby, but that was how you were when you were scared, carrying on despite the fear. John’s head shot up as he asked, “Y/n? How is she?”

Tommy let out a heavy sigh as he realized he was finally getting through to his brother, plopping down in a chair he replied, “She has some bruises and a sprained wrist. She was lucky this time, brother, but the danger will increase. The Lees know she gave us information about their operation. They took their money, but now they want blood,” Tommy said ominously. 

John nodded in understanding. He wouldn’t let his concentration lapse again. You were too important and he was determined to do everything in his power to protect you this time. He only needed to bring you home.

———————————————-

The family assembled in the betting shop without noticing you hovering in the corner, feeling woefully out of place. Polly and Arthur were already seated, talking quietly as Polly smoked her clove cigarettes. Lizzie sat with pencil and paper in hand to take notes if necessary, but she didn’t appear nearly as concerned as the others. In fact, she was positively radiant, as though she couldn't stop smiling. You wondered what she had to be so cheerful about, when Isaiah appeared in the doorway, remarking to her, “Looks as though someone had a good night.”

“You know, John,” Lizzie replied with a giggle. Your heart stopped as you watched her bite her lip seductively, wondering what she meant by that. 

Moving to the kitchen to help yourself to a cup of tea, Isaiah sauntered in behind you, clearing his throat to announce his presence. “Why didn’t you come to the Garrison last night?” he asked, leaning against the cupboards with a casual charm he directed at most ladies.

“I was tired. Delivering a baby will do that,” you replied with a smile.

“Of course. John said you were brilliant,” Isaiah complimented you as he removed his cap and smoothed his hair.

“Isaiah, was Lizzie with you and John last night?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

A wide grin spread across Isaiah’s face as he accepted the mug of tea you offered exclaiming, “Yeah, for a bit. Then they told me to piss off. I mean, you know how they are.”

“N-no, I don’t,” you stuttered, hands beginning to tremble around your cup.

“Those two can’t keep their hands off each other! It’s been that way since the war ended. John used to blind her other customers just so he could see her more often,” he said with a laugh. When Isaiah observed your blank expression he continued saying, “You know what Lizzie used to do, don’t you?” 

Shaking your head, you felt your stomach drop and your mouth go dry as he explained their arrangement. Apparently John had been paying her for sex for years. The words stabbed into you as you held yourself up against the cupboards, willing your face not to betray your tender heart in front of a blinder. 

But the terrible feeling of betrayal was overwhelming as you remembered Katie’s words about her father and his whores. You thought John had feelings for you, but clearly you’d been wrong. The pit in your stomach grew as you relived the kiss you shared the night before outside Polly’s house. He must have sensed your hesitation and gone back to someone more experienced and familiar. You felt another twist of the knife as you wondered if he ever wanted you. His brother had forced him to take you in after all and suddenly you felt terribly foolish. Worried your legs might give out at any moment, you excused yourself to take a seat at the table.

The pain only worsened as Lizzie turned to address you with an air of worldly sophistication. “Y/n, it was kind of you to leave John and me last night. One day you’ll see how important it is that a man and a woman have their privacy. I know John appreciates it,” she said with a wink and a knowing smile. As heat seeped into your cheeks with the overwhelming feeling of humiliation, it was almost more than you could bare. Did everyone know John saw you as a child who wasn’t worthy of his attention?

Soon Tommy and John arrived, taking their seats at the table and you found yourself shifting uncomfortably in your seat as you tried to avoid John’s gaze.

As Tommy called the meeting to order you noticed all eyes on you, making you painfully aware that as a non blood relative nor a blinder, you shouldn’t be there. Tommy quickly put everyone’s fears to rest, making it known that he had asked you to be his adviser and no one dared go against Tommy. 

The meeting progressed quickly after that with John proposing an all out war against the Lees. He wanted to see them all cut to ribbons and you could tell by the dangerous gleam in his eye he was more than capable. Lizzie gave him a nod of approval from across the table and your blood boiled at the thought of them discussing strategy together, plotting and scheming as they lay tangled between the sheets. You were past the point of tears by now, coiling your hands into fists below the table.

While no one else came forward with a different thought right away, Arthur quickly agreed to John’s plan. Not one for ideas himself, he went along with the quickest method of handling enemies. 

However, Polly was next to speak and interjected reason before the men could become too blood hungry. “This all began because of greed, Thomas. If we propose to share our contacts with Erasmus and thus the earnings, it might convince them to stop trying to kill us.” You could see Polly favored peace above all else, but you knew Tommy would never settle for half his take. 

Then the idea came to you, born of resentment and retaliation, but an age old solution that would work nonetheless. You knew how to achieve peace if only you could convince your aunt and Tommy.

“There’s another way, but it requires discussion with an elder, my aunt, Zilpha,” you proposed, glancing up at Tommy.

“She’ll see me after everything that’s happened?” Tommy asked, a note of skepticism in his voice.

“No, but she’ll see me,” you promised him. You could see the wheels in his mind turning as he pondered what you might say to your aunt. If he truly trusted you, he would agree to let you speak on their behalf, however. 

With a small nod he agreed. “Alright, I’ll take you tomorrow,” Tommy said. “You’d better get some rest.” And with that, he left everyone in stunned silence, their fate in your hands.

As everyone filed out of the room, John remained, leaning on a desk. When you attempted to walk past, he stopped you, reaching out to capture your arm. “Y/n, wait,” he called out.

Your eyebrows shot up at his request, unsure why he hadn’t dashed out after Lizzie. It seemed her company was what he craved now so why was he here waiting for you? “What is it, John?” you asked, voice tinged with irritation. 

“I wanted to see how you are,” he said, looking you over with what appeared to be genuine concern. His opposite hand traced the bandage that covered your wrist, eyes trained on your injury as though he felt the pain concealed beneath it. 

“I’m fine,” you said, attempting to break away, but John held you to him.

Reaching up to caress your bruised cheek he spoke earnestly, “Look, I’m sorry about yesterday. I should have been at the shop. If I had been, none of this would have happened.”

“Well you can’t change it now,” you replied, locking eyes with him, wanting to scream at him about Lizzie, but knowing it wouldn’t help.

“Let me at least try to make it up to you,” John pleaded, rubbing his thumb over your hand. “Come home,” he suggested in a voice so soft you almost didn’t hear him.

“Why?” you asked, snatching your hand away.

The biting tone had obviously hurt John, a wounded look crossing his face immediately as he shoved his hands into his pockets and looked at the floor. “Because…because the children and I need you,” he reasoned, furrowing his brow. He’d never been good with words, but he hoped you would hear how much he cared for you with that simple phrase.

The words pricked the hairs at the back of your neck, confirming what you already suspected. There was no love there, only a life of convenience. Biting your cheek to keep from crying, you sucked in a quick breath before replying, “I’m sorry, John, but I’m needed elsewhere at the moment.” You turned on your heel and disappeared into the house.

—————————————-

You spent another night at Polly’s, too upset to return to John’s. When you closed the bedroom door before having your dinner, Tommy urged the others not to pry into the cause of  your sudden mood change. He explained there was a long drive ahead of you in the morning and reasoned you must be anxious at the thought of returning to a camp full of angry relatives.

As you drove to the Lee camp in comfortable silence, you were relieved that Tommy wasn’t the curious sort. However, you knew he deserved to hear what you intended on proposing to your aunt so you began explaining your plan for ushering in peace between the two families. While you expected him to question it a bit more, he only chain smoked as he kept his eyes trained on the road. When you’d finished, you swore you heard a low hum of approval emanate from his pursed lips, though you weren’t entirely sure from his stoic expression.

There was no time for doubt in any case as the car jerked to a halt. You exited your side cautiously, eyes scanning the horizon to find men with rifles stood at attention above you. “Slowly now,” Tommy advised as he stooped to gather a stick and dug into his pocket for a white handkerchief to tie at the top. As he walked up the dirt road toward the vardos circled on the ridge, he waved the makeshift flag. You allowed him to lead until he leaned toward you to whisper, “You’re sure you still want to do this? What of your future, eh?” It was the first he had mentioned you in any of the plans and you swallowed harshly at his insinuation that your fate mattered either way.

“Let me worry about that,” you replied stubbornly, marching ahead. Tommy wanted to laugh at your determination, but thought better of it considering the circumstances. He shook his head as he followed after you, admiration for your courage swelling in his throat. 

Zilpha greeted you with a wary expression upon your approach, face as dark and stormy as the clouds overhead threatening rain. Standing at the doorway of her vardo, she refused to descend until you had both been searched for weapons. Although you understood her hesitation, it stung to be treated as a traitor when you still held love for your family. 

When she was satisfied you weren’t there to harm her, she allowed you to ascend the steps and you breathed a sigh of relief when she extended a wrinkled hand to you, pulling you inside.

Despite having convinced her of your own good intentions, Tommy was made to wait outside. You could tell from her knitted brow, he would never gain her full approval and you knew you would have to work hard to sell his good points. 

After the preamble of commenting on your thin frame and offering up a hearty stew, Zilpha asked why you had come and you wasted no time with your appeal. 

“He’s a smart man, aunt. But he needs strong men,” you explained.

“For what?” she asked harshly, turning to face you with such force, her jewelry crashed together creating a tinny clinking that echoed out like a warning.

“Protection for his growing business. They get the winner in one of every three races before the race even starts. No need for chalks or rafflers. It’s a certainty,” you promised her, believing in Tommy’s operations so that she would have faith as well. 

“It sounds like this Shelby man’s got his hooks in ya,” she said, eyeing you suspiciously.

You bristled at her assumptions, holding your head high. “No Shelby has me, aunt. In fact, I have a unique proposal for you to end the war between you and them.”

“And what might that be?” she said, leaning forward elbows on her knees to hear you better.

“Rumors say Erasmus’s cousin Esme has been running wild. If I could promise a good husband for her, would you give Tommy soldiers? If you do, this alliance will make you a rich woman,” you promised.

Zilpha thought for a moment, recalling the trouble she’d had finding a suitable groom to take on the headstrong young woman.

“And what man do you suggest?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at you.

“Tommy’s younger brother, John Shelby,” you said, hoping she didn’t notice the way your voice wavered as you said his name. She hadn’t, too preoccupied by your talk of fortune. Without hesitation, she extended a hand in agreement.  

As you both emerged, Tommy searched your face for a sign that the negotiations had been a success. You gave him a small nod and he turned to Zilpha. “He’ll do then?” Tommy asked.

“Bring him round in a fortnight and it will be done,” Zilpha proclaimed. 

The drive back to Small Heath was cloaked in thick silence as you looked out the passenger window. Exhaustion from the long day was beginning to take hold of you, but something wouldn’t let you give in to the need for rest. Although you hoped your plan of revenge might heal your broken heart, the ache only grew stronger. You didn’t yet know it, but regret would soon take hold and there would be nothing you could do to reverse it. 

——————————————

Tag List:

@peakyswritings

@evita-shelby

@shelbydelrey

@alanadetigy

@wandawiccan60   

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

@peakyrogers

@christinasyellowflowers

@notyour-valentine

@theshelbyclan

@peaky-cillian

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@celticmelody

@cillmequick

@dreamlandcreations

@there-goes-thefighter

@rangerelik

@raincoffeeandfandoms

@babayaga67

@kmhappybunny240

@look-at-the-soul

@runnning-outof-time

@l1-l4

@floraroselaughter

@pherelesytsia

@mootiemoose

@babaohhhriley

@deeahhmaa

@literishdegree99

@padfootdaredmetoo

@koressecretidentity

@fuckrigthoff

@luckyfiction17

@summerslike11

@pulisvertz

@orkwardx0

@savagejane1

@rey26

@theconsultingdetectiveswife

@capswife

@latorsgatorz

@malfoyzsx

@globetrotter28

@sydneyyyya

@cersei-phoenix-thorn

@goldensunflowe-r

@lostgirl219

@integalacticspacemonkey

@creatorspalace

@lothbrokcore

@psychichpersona25

@at-the-chateau

@areyenotfondofmelobster

@vivre-dans-la-nuit

@smailaway

@aesthetic0cherryblossom

[courtney-deserved-better]

seeing as it’s now been one year since the last chapter of slippery slopes was posted, i decided to make a big sappy post talking about what this fic has meant to me over the last two and a half years

i started writing slippery slopes after a bolt of inspiration struck me on this post. i’d tried writing my fair share of long fics prior, most of them remaining unpublished and all of them unfinished. i’m not quite sure what made me think i could write slippery slopes other than a strong desire to write the alenoah fic i wanted to read but that didn’t exist at the time. slippery slopes was the 30th fic posted in the alenoah tag, which didn’t have any finished long fics at the time. i think if you told 2021 pj that in two years there would be over 600 alenoah fics, many of them tdwt rewrites, their head would explode.

i honestly had no idea what i was jumping into when i started writing slippery slopes. looking back, i was very insecure about my writing. i’d actually forgotten about that until i was reading some posts i’d made while i was still writing it, where i wondered if i was going to be able to pull off the miscommunication plotline and the unplanned alecourtney friendship. almost every announcement of a chapter draft being completed included me saying i felt weird about it, or thought it was bad. i felt incredibly uncomfortable writing serious angst and when that started playing an important role in the fic at around chapter seven i feared that my writing was awful and other people would dislike it the way i had. i genuinely don’t think it hit me that slippery slopes was a popular fic until a few months before it became the most kudosed fic on ao3.

back then, i was able to understand why other people liked slippery slopes, but i couldn’t read it without cringing. i’m not sure when exactly the switch flipped—probably after i finally finished it and was able to distance myself from the writing process—but it became a fic that i’m incredibly proud of. i can reread it now and enjoy it without cringing in the slightest. i was able to see my writing as good, and well-crafted. i will always appreciate slippery slopes as a fic where i grew incredibly as a writer. i understand how to plan out long fics while still allowing for spontaneity. i can comfortably write angst. i feel strong in my choices for characterization and friendship even if it may seem unconventional. i have so much more confidence in my writing now, and a lot of that is thanks to you all.

other than desperately wanting an alenoah tdwt rewrite fic, a huge part of why i wrote slippery slopes was because i felt lonely in the td fandom and was hoping that this fic could connect me with more people out there. and boy oh boy it sure has. and not just the plethora of alenoah shippers—way more than i expected—but there were also people who didn’t ship alenoah, but still stayed for the story, and people who had never considered alenoah but gave my fic a chance and ended up shipping it anyway. when i didn’t believe my writing was good, there were many, many kind commenters who showed my fic love and encouraged me to keep going with it. and even now, there are commenters whose fresh excitement make me feel like all the time i spent on this fic was so, so worth it. and they all inspire me to keep writing. 

i may be a good writer, but i don’t think i can ever fully express what everyone’s support has done for me. i still struggle to wrap my mind around the fact that there are dozens of drawings of my fic that you all have made! that’s crazy! i am so, so lucky to have such wonderful readers, and i hope you all know how incredibly grateful i am. slippery slopes would not exist without you. this was a joint effort. it’s amazing to me how a spontaneously started fic for a crackship ended up changing the total drama fandom landscape the way it did. who would’ve guessed that a simple whim to write an alenoah fic could become quite the slippery slope.

[blossomwritesthings]

𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝? 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. | 𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭

part twelve of do you feel my hand? it is there. | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten | part eleven

pairing: minho x fem!reader (afab)

genre: veterinarian!minho (this includes a few of the skz members working in his clinic). client!reader. hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. smut - MDNI, 18+ only. reader pov. strangers to lovers au. slowburn romance. lots of pining.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. very thematic elements. minho is reader's vet. reader is now his past client. mentions of getting pregnant/having children. mentions of a breeding kink. slightly suggestive at the end.

word count: 1.7k

summary: dr. lee minho is known throughout your area as the city's hottest veterinarian, and he's also the very man that's been taking good care of your two cats for the past three years. but one day, you're thrown down a dark path of heartache when the cat that you've grown up with - nyx - is diagnosed with an acute form of bone cancer. burdened with the hardest decision of your entire life, you come at a crossroads of what to do. and throughout it all, minho is the single most person who continually stays by your side.

a/n: I can't believe this series is finally coming to an end. after many long hours brainstorming and working on it, it's finally finished. I just randomly came up with the idea for this 2 months ago, yet it has impacted so many of you guys and I find that really beautiful. 😭 as always, thanks so much for taking time out of your days to support my work and read my writings, it means a great deal to me! I'm excited for what the future holds and please anticipate the next works coming from me~ 💞

🐈‍⬛ - ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ other cool stuff ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋread my rules & guidelines here! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋcheck out my skz masterlist! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋmy wip list! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ skz fic recs [sfw ver]! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋskz fic recs [nsfw ver]! :: 18+, MDNI! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋback to navigation! ࿐ྂ

 ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). ©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

The faint sounds of bluebirds chirping just outside your bedroom window was the first thing that roused you from dreamland. 

 That, and the long muscular arm that was slinked tight across your waist, hugging you close to a warm body. 

 Slowly cracking your eyes open, you were blinded by the late-morning sunshine that filtered through the bedroom’s only window. The curtains were drawn open and allowed a clear view of the stunning weather that lay just outside your front door. With it being May and all, the sky was a brilliant crystal blue, with snowy-white clouds dotting the horizon. 

 “Good morning, lovely,” a low, grumbly voice said from just beside you. 

 You pulled your eyes away from the sight of sunshine and your focus landed on your boyfriend. Minho was snuggled down into the thick duvet, giving you one of his signature soft, languid smiles. His eyes crinkled at the corners and a certain laziness cast across his dark irises. 

 “Hi, baby,” you said in a whisper, reaching out to him and carding a few fingers through his unruly bed-head. “Sleep well?” 

 He yanked you a little closer at that, pressing a fervent kiss to one of your cheeks. “I sure did… much thanks to you.” He wiggled his eyebrows, tone quite suggestive. He was acting like an immature schoolboy - the opposite of the beast of a man that he had been in bed the night before. 

 But you liked this side of him. 

 The soft, lazy one. 

 The one that you had quickly fallen in love with upon first glance. 

 He was easy. 

 Lee Minho was incredibly pleasant to be around. 

 He wasn’t too loud or too annoying. 

 But he also wasn’t too quiet or reserved either. 

 Sure, he could have his moments of both crazy and brooding. 

 But for the most part, he was always the same - steadfast in gentleness and care. 

 And the way he looked on at you at that moment, with so much tenderness flooding his eyes and with it pressing his lips into a velvety line, your heart nearly melted from the intimacy of it all. 

 “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk properly today…” You laughed quietly, raking away a few strands of his midnight locks that had fallen into his line of vision. “You just treated me too well last night.” 

 Minho flashed you a shadowed grin at that, leaning in to press a few gentle kisses against your mouth. You all but melted into his touch, groaning at the feeling of having him so close again. It was so comfortable - laying in bed with him like that, so late in the morning on the weekend. You loved it so much, and you never wanted it to end. 

 When he pulled away from you to catch his breath, his lips were shining with your taste and his teeth sparkled under the sunlight that flooded through the entire bedroom. “I want to live with you, Y/N.” 

 His words caught you completely off guard, throwing you for a wild loop of anticipation. Heart skipping over itself rapidly in your chest, your eyes widened at him as you tried to contemplate his admission. “W-What?” Is all you could manage to say, voice growing quiet at the way that he was looking at you just then. 

 Minho moved towards you, delicately pressing his forehead to yours, hot breath fanning against your nose as he spoke, “I want to have everything with you - want to share the little and big moments with you. Want to go to sleep with you by my side and wake up with you still right there. I want you to be the last thing I see in the night, and the first thing I see in the morning.” 

 You could feel the tears begin to prick at the corners of your eyes. Because truly- Lee Minho was unlike any other man you had ever met before. He seemed to genuinely care about you - he seemed to love you wholeheartedly and unashamedly. 

 And that both terrified you and excited you at the very same time. 

“So say you’ll move in with me, baby girl… say you’ll live at my place.” 

 All you could do was stare at him for a few moments in disbelief. He was being serious - he wanted to live with you. He actually wanted to build a life with you. 

“Yes-” You blurted out, a smile already creeping across the line of your mouth, “A thousand times yes!” 

 You were so happy that you threw your arms around his neck, tugging him close to you and burying your face in the heat of his chest. He chuckled, the sounds vibrating out across him and lighting something benevolent and fuzzy inside of your heart. 

 When you pulled apart again, Minho mirrored your expression, grinning from ear to ear. You were just so happy - to think, that you’d get to spend the rest of your days with the man of your dreams. With the man that you had been pondering over and wishing over for so very long. 

 And now he was yours - forever, and always. 

 Just before Minho was about to slant back into you and kiss you again, you pushed on his chest, feeling the bare muscle there and ignoring the burst of heat that it sent through your core. 

 “But wait- Min, I-”

 Your words faltered as he swiped a few fingers across your cheek, nimble digits skittering against your flesh and forcing your heart to beat a little faster. “What is it, princess?” He asked, eyes soft and serene as he waited for you to continue. 

 Swallowing around the lump that was starting to form in the middle of your throat, you peered up at him with pink-flushed cheeks. “I do want to live with you- I want that so very much. But… I want more than just that. I want more of you than just simply living together.” 

 Minho smirked devilishly, “Go on…” He implored you with knowing eyes, his fingers on your cheek trailing down to fit underneath your chin. He grabbed at your jaw gently, guiding your gaze up to meet his eyes once more. 

 “I… I think I’m finally ready.” 

 “For what?” 

 “To… start a life with you.” 

 The air was pulled right out of you as you said the single most thing that had been brewing in your mind for such a long time. The tension zapped in the room around you, snapping like an elastic and making you squirm under his hold and his regard.

 Because truthfully, you had been thinking about such a thing...

 Moving into someplace nice with Lee Minho and settling down with a family of your very own… with your cats and each other and- 

Minho’s thumb moved away from your jaw, tracing the outline of your mouth as he shook his head slowly, a hazy grin already spreading across his face. “Ah- did my baby love being bred so much last night that you want to be swollen with my very own child?” 

 You couldn’t believe it, but you were nodding your head in silence, the blush flooding into the column of your neck and spreading across your chest. You felt light-headed with a mixture of delight and love, as Minho’s face came close to yours once more. 

 “I think that can be… arranged…” The mischievousness flashed in his eyes then, and it was the last thing you saw before he was pressing his mouth to yours and swallowing up the faint moan that slipped out of you from the way things were turning south very quickly. 

 But you didn’t mind one bit. 

 You didn’t mind the way he grabbed onto you, positioning you so that you were laying out beneath him, just like the night before. 

 No, rather, you welcomed it gladly. 

 To finally have found your place in the world. 

 Through so much turmoil and strife and fighting. 

 It had taken a long time. With a lot of waiting and grief in between. 

 Nyx’s passing had left a hollow part in your heart. 

 But you soon came to realize that the one thing you needed to heal the wound - the one person - had always been standing right there by your side, in the corner of your vision. 

 And his name was Lee Minho. 

 First, he was your veterinarian. 

 First, he was just the handsome neighborhood doctor. 

 Then, he became a close confidante and someone whom you could lean on during difficult times. 

 After that, he grew into something more - a man you thought over, pined after - for a long time. 

 And finally, he became your exquisite lover. 

 The one person who healed it all… the scars, the past hurts, the pain. All of it. Taking it away, leaving tiny scars behind, with each comforting kiss. With each gentle touch. With each serene word. 

 At one point in your life, you had thought that nothing would ever compare to Nyx. That no one would be able to fill the gaping void left inside of you from losing her. 

 But, as it turns out - as fate would have it - you ended up with the very person you had needed from the beginning. And that made your heart burst with joy and adoration. 

 And you knew that no matter what happened - no matter who you lost - Minho would always be by your side. Because he had been, since day one. You had just been too blindsided by your prejudices and worries to see it. 

 However, that was no more. 

 Now, your life was bursting with colour - with happiness and calm and all things captivating and ethereal. 

 And it was all because of… 

 Him. 

 The man named Lee Minho, 

 The veterinarian just down the road from you, who owned a quaint little clinic. 

 And the man that silently took care of the animals that he adored - never seeking praise, never wanting validation. 

 Because he did it out of the kindness of his own heart. Out of the passion that he had for all creatures, big and small. 

 And that was something incredibly beautiful and lovely to you.  

Fin.

🐈‍⬛ taglist: want to be added onto my taglist? well then, comment below on this post/reblog it, and indicate your interest in my taglist and i'll add you... or, you can send me a msg and request to be added~

🌾 tags: @sleepyleeji :: @if-spearb :: @hyunes4ngel :: @drhsthl :: @seosalad :: @toomuchtellyneck :: @endzii23 :: @smally97 :: @ana-marais98 :: @sherryblossom :: @priincehoseok :: @biribarabiribbaem :: @linovely :: @lolqxv :: @linonyang :: @morningstardada :: @taeriffic :: @day6andetcetera :: @hyuka-luvbot :: @linohumina :: @urmomma0324 :: @poisonivy2 :: @nappynapnaps :: @bellamuerte1987 :: @julciaqwerty :: @abbiestearsricochet :: @leeknowsramen :: @/leyknxw a yellow tag means that there was an error in tagging you.

©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

[bitchyglitterfox]

I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship - Rhaenyra x F!Reader - Modern AU

Alternatively: We Should Be Lovers Instead

Warnings: friends to lovers, lesbian x bisexual, the children still exist in this!, Alicent playing matchmaker, brief mention of homophobia, Daemon and Harwin, Fluff, smut will be in part 2!

A/N: it's lesbian visibility week and as your fav lesbian author it is my duty to write WxW fics this week! Boys are taking a backseat this week sorry yall!

Beta read by @howaboutcastiel

...

"Rhaenyra darling, you're my best friend," you say in front of the mirror to yourself. You've been pacing for the last 30 minutes, "I wanna ruin our friendship. We should be lovers instead. No, no, no. Ah, come on y/n you can do this!" 

Rhaenyra has had 2 failed relationships, which gave her 5 wonderful boys who all call you auntie and whom you'd die for. But it's time to put on the big girl panties and confess your feelings to her so that you can either finally get together with her or move on after she lets you down. 

"Okay okay okay," you pull out your phone and dial Alicent, your other best friend and confidant. She's the only one to know of your feelings for the Targaryen. 

"I can't do it, Ali," you whine the moment she picks up, forgoing letting her greet you. 

"Darling Y/n, if you don't confess to Nyra today, I will go over there and kick your ass. How many times have I told you she feels the same for you and has for just as long as you have?" 

"You really think she feels the same way I do?" You know she can't see the face you’re making currently, but she can hear it. 

"Y/n, you were as much her gay awakening as she was yours. Remember in 8th grade at Lannisters’ boy girl party when the bottle landed on you?" She is hoping to calm your nerves just a bit. 

"Yeah? What about it?" You try to remember that dumb party that happened nearly 2 decades ago. 

You had just gotten your braces on the very week of Jason Lannister’s birthday party. You knew none of the boys wanted to kiss you since you had braces, and that made you nervous.

You'd realized you were only into girls not even 3 months prior, but had been keeping it in, in fear of bullying and the fact that you had a very obvious not obvious crush on Rhaenyra Targaryen. You'd confided in Alicent Hightower about your realization, and she had affirmed her friendship with you even though she came from a highly religious background. She told you nothing would stop the two of you from being friends. 

You were all sitting in a circle with an empty glass bottle in the middle. You prayed to the Seven that your turn didn't land on any of the boys. Sure, Harwin and Jason were good-looking, and landing on them wouldn't be ‘bad’ per se, but you'd dread it if you actually had to kiss them. 

It was as if the Seven, the old gods and any diety out there had been looking upon you at that moment because when Rhaenyra spun the bottle instead of landing on the one person she had been hoping for—Harwin Strong, whom she had a very obvious crush on—it instead landed on you. Her best friend since diapers. 

"Uh… you can spin again, Nyra. You don't have to kiss a girl." Jason eyed you directly into your soul. Like he knew your secret. 

"Huh? No, a turn is a turn. I don't mind kissing Y/n. She's my best friend. You don't mind me kissing you, do you?" She looked at you with those beautiful lilac eyes. 

"Y-yeah, I don't mind," you managed out. 

"Then it's settled," Rhaenyra said as she started to crawl across the way to you. When she was near, she sat down and gently placed a hand on your cheek while her free hand lay on yours. She closed her eyes and leaned in. You kept yours open until the last possible second, and only when her nose brushed against your cheek did they finally close.

Her lips were soft, and they tasted like strawberries. The kiss didn’t last long, but you wished she didn't pull away when she did. You both smiled at one another. You wished you could tell her how you feel. You never expected it to take 20 years, a few failed relationships on both of your parts. 

"That was the same night she told me she had enjoyed that kiss. That you were her own gay awakening, or rather bisexual awakening," Alicent hums through the phone. 

"I-she never told me that," you blush at the thought of Rhaenyra enjoying your first kisses being with each other. 

There’s a knock at your door stopping you from continuing your conversation with Alicent. 

"Hey, Ali, I'm gonna need to call you back. There’s someone at the door.” You fail to hear the excited squeal she lets out as she tells you that you'd better answer. 

When you open the door to your apartmentment, you are met with the eyes of the woman you have been in love with since you were thirteen, at Jason Lannister's first boy-girl party. Rhaenyra Targaryen. 

"Nyra? What are you doing here—” you don't get to finish your sentence before her lips are on yours, devouring you. You are stunned, and it takes you a second to kiss her back, which causes her to pull away. You snake your fingers in her long hair and pull her back into you while you kick the door shut with your foot. 

You both tumble onto your couch, a mix of kisses and hands grabbing anywhere they can. She has one hand on the back of your head while her other is secured holding your waist.

Unfortunately, oxygen is needed for both of you to live. If you could have it any other way, the sound of her moans while she’s on top of you would be enough to sustain you. 

"Do you have any idea how long I've waited for you to make a move, perzītsos?" 

Little Flame. She's used that name on you for years, but hearing her say it as you've both just finished making out on your couch. It’s different. 

You hold her face in your hands as you stare up at her, a small smile gracing your lips. 

"You never seemed interested. You were off with Harwin and then Daemon. I didn't want to get my hopes up, but when I called Ali after pacing for half an hour worrying about what to say to you, she finally told me what I'd been waiting for since we were thirteen. That you had felt that same spark I did all those years ago." 

Rhaenyra lets out a hardy laugh when you mention Alicent’s name. She leans down and kisses you once more. 

"Ali sent me a text telling me to confess today. I said ‘to hell with it’ and came straight over." 

Your smile grows bigger on your face as you realize something.

"Hey Nyra? I want to ruin our friendship. We should be lovers instead." 

She smirks down at you as her hair curtains you both.

"Good, because we have a lot of catching up to do." she says as she kisses you once more.

[phantasmaltrain]

holy shit i finally finished this fic

felt nice to write something just to. write

not a long chaptered fic or series, just smth to get the brainworms out

or read below if you’d like !

word count — 1,410

summary —

ingo is home.

after all this time, he is home.

and yet, he cannot seem to settle.

( after a week of being back in unova, ingo takes a walk to clear his head. )

“in quantum mechanics, schrödinger's cat is a thought experiment, sometimes described as a paradox, of quantum superposition. in the thought experiment, a hypothetical cat may be considered simultaneously both alive and dead, while it is unobserved in a closed box, as a result of its fate being linked to a random event that may or may not occur.”

nimbasa winters were never too chilly. while snow did coat the ground clean over in powdery sheets of white, the towering buildings were often enough to keep the wind from cutting through everything like a frigid knife. with the evening sun casting soft rays of pinks and peach through the gaps of steel lined skyscrapers, a certain recently returned subway boss found it appropriate timing for a walk.

. . in the last week, being back home, everything felt like an emotional blur, parts of his mind still foggy beyond recognition. a tide, tugging him by the ankles and threatening to knock him over, only to drown him in the wallowing feelings of his own heart.

but he stood resolute, anyway. that’s why he decided he needed some space, just for a little bit.

he had been practically housebound since his return; doctors, historians, worried family and friends. it was overwhelming, to his still recovering head.

ingo almost winced aloud at emmet’s strained expression when he had mentioned his request for some alone time, as if his brother was already paranoid he would disappear once again. and he had full right to be.

but there was too much lying heavy on his chest, things his brother could not fix, no matter how hard he tried, and he needed out.

just for an hour at best, he would be alright. the younger brother’s expression only crinkled further in worry at how quiet and subdued his voice came out, tinges of a sinnohan accent bleeding into each word.

it was his brother, sure, but he just sounded so . . unfamiliar.

time was a funny thing.

to emmet, he had been gone a few months at best.

to ingo?

years had blurred past, in hisui, and emmet hated to recognize his brother was trodding along on a track he could not follow, as much as he wanted to.

and so he sighs, buries down all his fussing, and asks if he would be at least willing to bring eelektross with him. something about him needing a walk.

( emmet did frequently take his pokemon outside on off days, but ingo could tell by his face- that careworn smile, practically etched in, that worry was practically chewing him from the inside out, and that doing this for him would ease his worries even to the smallest amount. )

he says “ no, ” flatly, walking out the door. he doesn’t come back.

he quietly complies, making a soft clicking noise with his tongue to beckon the eel like beast, currently sprawled in it’s seven feet of glory across the sofa, over.

he practically clicks back, sauntering over and curling himself over ingo’s shoulder as if he were a pirate’s chatot.

emmet watches the interaction for a few moments, an eyebrow raised.

“ i was not aware you spoke pokemon. ”

“ not really. . just a bit of an old trick that usually works. ”

hours of listening to the persistent chattering of sneasel kits had certainly let him pick up a few things, but he wouldn’t say he understood it. not fluently, at least. a brief understanding of what growls and warbles meant “food,” and which ones meant “hi,” but that was all.

after a few moments of shared, awkward silence, he reaches for the doorknob, a soft “ bye. ” leaving his mouth before the door shuts behind him.

almost instantly, the ground splits beneath him in yet another wormhole. he feels the fluffy snow against his back. he’s there again.

the soft snow crunches underfoot. chandelure saunters ahead of him with a ghostly chime of enthusiasm, practically beaming with a marbled purple-blue blaze illuminating the snow beneath her. eelektross stays curled around his neck, almost in a guard dog like fashion.

the weight is too heavy. the eel practically crushes his windpipe, and he collapses on his own doorstep.

he wasn’t really sure where he wanted to go. slowly trudging forward with a soft hum, he seemed to study the way he walked; how softly each footstep fell, how he had yet to fully correct that awful posture of his, now.

he felt like parts of him were missing.

chipped away fragments, that had yet to return.

he shatters like a piece of glass, collapsing to the ground with a cry. those missing pieces were vital, after all.

clearing his throat and fixing his posture upright, he begins to walk in an attempt at a confident stride. gradually, he falls into a steady rhythm; right foot, left foot. right foot, left foot.

noisy prey. an alpha zoroark easily takes advantage of the man’s loud footsteps, lunging for the throat.

. . walking like this in the middle of the highlands was a one way ticket to either being mauled, falling off a cliff, or simply being called a fool.

but this wasn’t the highlands.

or the icelands.

or hisui.

he was safe, to trod on as confidently as he liked.

and this felt right, in some way, so he continued to do so as he made his way down the street.

both pokemon in tow seemed to cheer him on; eelektross’ cheerful crackling practically right in his ear, chandelure emitting a chorus of enthusiastic hums and cries, bright flames flickering in the gradually dimming daylight.

despite their encouragement, as if coaxing on a baby to walk for the first time, a sense of nervousness seemed to crawl up his shoulder.

this was home, what he had been yearning for all this time, and yet it felt . .

noisy.

overwhelming.

it had been no more than a few minutes and he already found himself falling still, staring at his shoes and standing like a trembling stantler deerling on the snow laden sidewalk.

he turns around right back home. it’s too much. would emmet be disappointed in him for chickening out?

he allows himself the pause, despite the deep set frustration beginning to stir.

this was what he had been missing all this time! this was what he wanted back!

so why

why in arceus’ name was this so difficult?

as if sensing his brewing irritation, chandelure attempts to worm her way under one arm, as if demanding to be held.

( she personally could care less at this moment. it was more about distracting the silver haired man from whatever was plaguing him, that of which turned his soul so bitter. )

surprised, at first, ingo stifles a snort under his breath.

shifting his arms ever so slightly, he finds a more comfortable posture; eelektross still half curled around his shoulders, and chandelure now gently nestled in his grasp. swirls of purple and blue spectral flames curl around his arms as if to comfort, slowly burning their ways through flesh and bone the tension and worry bubbling beneath his skin.

temporarily, for now, but it was the best she could do.

and with that, he continued to walk.

a horrible idea. had hisui taught him nothing?

tentatively; cautiously, even, but slowly gaining back his stride.

( when ingo later returned home and accounted his little journey, which he considered quite eventful, emmet suggested chandelure receive some support training if the bustling city had begun to make him anxious since his return. )

( he responded that he’d put it on the backburner of his head. )

( while emmet usually groaned and swatted at him for adopting elesa’s awful puns, he just grinned. )

( he was just happy ingo was home. )

( he never made it home. what are you talking about? )

( of course he did. )

( the theory of schrödinger’s cat only lasted as long as the box was closed. )

but this box was open.

and ingo treyne is missing

dead

gone

never to return home

trapped in the distortion world

not real at all

now a zorua

in alola enjoying a nice vacation

to be executed at noon

me

you

really feeling like he could go for an ice cream right now, actually

to be contained at once

a threat to the fabric of time and space

a loser

a god

nothing

everything

alive.

he is alive.

and when he comes home, he does not mind being met with a tight embrace in the doorway from his brother.