#ive never heard more than two words written in there

[divinesolas]

internal changes

summary: your long time betrothed jacaerys heads to winterfell to make good relations with the north, your relationship has always been one of love and happiness until you show up a month into his trip to winterfell where everything seems to have changed between the two of you. your relationship may never be the same and it has everything to do with a particular stark.

jacaerys velaryon x cregan stark x fem!non targ!reader

cw: infidelity, internalized homophobia, queer cregan and jace, threesome, poly relationship, hand job, oral (f), prob ooc for everyone man, p in v, anal, top!cregan, sub!jace, dom!reader, like one smack to the face, ‘sara snow’ mention? (its just cregan), not proofread

an: havent written in a hot minute im rlly rusty but ive gotten asked to write this for forever so here you go 😁

perm jace taglist ! (open) @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 @jacesvelaryons @earth4angels @itsemohours @valdezthg

perm cregan taglist ! (open) @ireneispunk

He had been acting weird since you arrived. avoiding you at every turn, barely speaking to you and it bothered you to no end. His letters to you had been nothing but positive, speaking highly of winterfell and the lord stark who jacaerys also seemed to be avoiding as well.

he spoke about how much he missed you, how much he longed to see you but now that you were actually here he seemed to want nothing to do with you. a month ago you were the love of his life, he was obsessed with you, and now he would not even do so much as look your way.

then you heard the rumor for the first time. It seemed everyone had been trying to hide it from you but you heard it one night. the maids had been talking around the corner. Sara snow. The lord rumored bastard sister. With pretty long dark hair just like her brother. They had been sleeping together for basically his whole time there you presumed, you had even heard they got fucking married in front of the weirwood trees before you showed up.

You were sick. so sick about everything so sick of the thoughts you were having and you grew angry, furious but you managed to stay rational, calm, for now.

“are you happy?” he looked up at you started, you had barged into his room and locked the door quickly behind you. “y/n-“ “i am not angry, i was angry, but this is a very typical thing in marriages here i just wish you had informed me,” He stands up from his desk. readjusting the buttons on his white tunic to cover himself up further as he looked at you alarmed. He looked beautiful and you hate that. His hair wet and face flushed as he tries to find his words.

“i dont know what,” “ive heard the rumors. everyone talks about it, everyone looks at me with pity in their eyes. whether its this sara snow or some other lady i dont care because i believe it.”

He freezes. He looks down at his hands which shake, you wait for him to say something. Anything. a part of you hopes he denies it, even if it would be a lie you pray he can give you some false sense of hope but he doesn’t. merely standing quietly in shame while you let out a soft laugh devoid of anything. “if you wish for our marriage to be one of agreement then so be it. but do not try to trick me into believing itll be anything more than that any longer i refuse it.”

You turn to walk out of the room, no longer being able to stand in his presence but as you go to open the door his voice calls out to you. “there is no other lady.”

You scoff and turn back to him, his eyes are glazed over with tears as his chest rises with heavy breaths. A part of you wants to walk over to him and wipe his tears off his face but you remain firm as you scoff. “do not take me for a fool-“ “i mean it. there is no lady.” he puts an emphasis on the word that has you tilting your head. you open your mouth to question him until the pure desperate look on his face causes it to click. there is no lady. but there is someone.

“im sorry.” he flats and looks as though he did not expect you to say that. “for what? you have nothing to be sorry for it is i who should be-“ “i cannot be mad at you for who you are it is not your fault.” He walks over to you as you close the door, grabbing your hands as he shakes his head. “you miss understand me i like you i love you like i man loves a women but he,” he lets out a frustrated sigh but you can tell its not directed at you, “i love him as i love you.”

When there is a silence in the air for far longer than he likes he squeezes you hard tight as he looks at your blank face. “please say something my love.” “who is it?” he looks down once more as you remain firmly staring at him. “y/n..” “who?” “cregan.” He says his name likes its forbidden, the word travels in the air like a brush of wind but you still hear it all the same.

he doesn’t dare look up at you again as another wave of silences washes over you two. His heart is aching so badly he wants to clutch his chest and fall to the ground. He does not want to be like this, one of those men. He holds himself in higher regard, but he cant help how he feels about the winter wolf who smiles at him so kindly. He thought it could be one and done, manage to shake this illness from his skin and be done with it but it has only gotten worse.

it is wrong. he should not want to love cregan as he loves you. you are his light his world but why does he think of cregan as he thinks of you. Its wrong, immoral. He should be punished, he wishes for you to yell, to scream at him, hit him but you don’t. you merely pull away from him and walk out the room without another word. He drops to his knees when as you shut the door and he clutches his chest as he begin to sob, he is a monster and this fate is a cruel but just punishment in his eyes.

Cregan wake up that morning prepared to walk the same routine he always does. The images of the dark haired prince that flash in his mind go ignored another day as they have been ever since the princess arrived. he did not hate you, no he actually rather liked you a lot but he did miss getting to spend time with jacaerys who clung to his side before you had shown up and now had not even spoken a word to him.

He walks into the hall and pauses. There you sit, arms crossed and two plates of hot foot in front of you. it clicks. he looks around at all the guards and maids in the room, “everyone out.” the room quickly scatters, “and make sure nobody enters.” the doors as shut with a hard slam as he stalks towards you, eyeing you down with a gleam of mischief in his pupils. “its a shock to see you here princess.” “i am not a princess.” he hums as he takes a seat and begins to pick at his food while you merely stare at him. “something the matter?” “how long?”

he raises his brow as he dunks his bread in the soup before shoving it in his mouth, “how long what?” “dont play dumb with me lord stark.” He chuckles leaning back in his chair and you find yourself readjusting in your seat. He watched you with a pleased look as he licks on of his fingers. “not long enough that your pretty little head should be worried about it princess.” “he said he loves you.”

cregans face falls and his face turns serious as he looks at you. He can see the questioning in your eyes and lets out a sigh. “two weeks. but we’ve been friends this whole time. i never meant for it to go further i swear on my sons life. stepping in between the bonds of a betrothal is not my way.”

You hate that you find yourself believing him. you itch at your skin to the point it becomes red. “do you like him?” cregan scratched at his jaw as he moves his food around on his plate. “i do. very much. i apologize.” he watched as you take a deep breath as you stare at your plate, “i will not peruse it, you are his betrothed and it would be inappropriate and wrong of me. i will leave him alone, i will never even glance at him i have disrespected your honor and dignity enough.”

he stared at you waiting for a response, he watches as you bring the bowl of soup to your lips snd take a long sip before placing it back down and wiping the excess from your lips. “would you accept his mother terms here and now so we could leave by the afternoon if i asked?” “yes of course anything you want.”

he expects you to ask him to do it but you merely bring your chalice to your lips as a sinister grin finds its way to your face. “do you find me pretty lord stark?” his brows raise in question but he coughs into his fist, “um, yes i do princess.” he watches as you lean over the table and grin at him sweetly. “just how pretty lord stark?” he almost asks you whats wrong before he feels your foot drag up his leg slowly letting out a shaky breath before a groan as your food digs into his bulge. shakily and breathlessly staring as you as you press your boot covered leg harder against him leaving him gripping the table. “i have an idea im sure you will be pleased with.”

jacaerys is on the edge of cracking. he had not seen you all day. he had gone to your room to ask you to have breakfast with him but he was informed you were not there. he had gone looking for you, searching every corner for you and he found nothing. nobody would even tell him where you were but they all had an odd look in their eyes when they said that to him.

He does end up seeing you, finally with cregan stark on your arm and he feels his heart plummet. “good day jacaerys.” his mouth opens and closes like a fish as he stares at the two of you. “good,,, day,,,?” he watches the look the two of you share as he feels his heart stop, “cregan’s been showing me around a bit would you like to join us?”

He feels like this is a trick. The two of you look far too happy, he gulps and fiddled around a bit before giving you a weak nod. he ends up trailing behind the two of you as the two of you talk about winterfell. you ask cregan about the history of certain things and he eagerly answers your questions. jace is just waiting for the fire to lit, for the two or you to turn on him and begin to berate him.

His mind wanders as he imagines the two of you punishing him the way he deserves, cregan holding him down while you tease his cock, refusing to give him what he truly wanted. He lets out a light whimper as his thoughts continue to run wild and his eyes widen as he coughs into his fist trying to play it off as nothing. He lets out a sigh of relief as the two of you say nothing but he misses the look the two of you share.

You all arrive at a large study, “this was my fathers before he passed.” “do you not use it?” cregan shakes his head, a more somber look on his face. “i should, i will, one day, for now his legacy shall be preserved here.” you hum and nod your head in understanding. you take off your cloak as cregan also begins to strip himself of his outerwear. jacaerys stares at the two of you confused, you walk over to him and begin to untie his cloak from around his neck. “you should make yourself comfortable jace.” “what is happening my love?” he asks you in a hushed voice but you dont answer him, a small smile creeps its way onto your face and he grows worried.

he allows you to strip him down to his undertunic, making no move to fight you his eyes drift behind you to cregan who has made himself really comfortable his undershirt untucked and being held open but just one button, cregan raises his brow at jace as he catches his eyes, taking a long drink from his bottle.

you grab his face and jacaerys blushes, “what are you looking at?” cregan stalks his way over and stands behind jacaerys his hands wrapping around his waist as jacaerys feels his breath caught in his throat as cregan presses his head into his neck.

“you’re such a greedy boy, wanting two people at once huh?” he whines. cregan begins to suck at the skin on his neck. he’s confused. he has no clue whats going on. “what’s happening?” he curses as your hands dip into his pants and harshly grab at his cock, “me and your secret lover have come to an agreement isn’t that right?” cregan lifts his head and hums. He watches in amazement as the two of you share a small kiss and he throbs at the sight of the two people he cares for most being intimate.

“hmm thats right princess.” jacaerys struggles to think as you tug on his throbbing cock, rubbing your thumb around his tip as cregan goes back to sucking on his neck. “since you’re so greedy, you can have us both arent we so kind?” jacaerys moans in delight at this turn of events and buckles his hips into your hand. your face sours and you lightly smack him across the face, “and not a single thank you? you’re disgusting.” jacaerys whines and shakes his head vigorously. “im sorry im sorry thank you thank you i love you.”

He feels cregan chuckle into his neck, his hands pull away the buttons on jacaerys tunic not caring about the now ruining garment as cregan caresses his skin. jacaerys continues to greedily rut his hips into your hands feeling himself closer and closer to his release. He suddenly feels cregan press into his back and he lets out a shudder as cregan begins to grind his hips against jacaerys, his tunic having long been disregarded and their bare skin presses against each other.

Your hands are suddenly pulled off him and cregan also takes a big step away from him and jacaerys whimpers at the loss of contact and the way his cock throbs as his orgasm dies down. “dont think im going to let you get away with this that easily.” your lips are suddenly presses against his and a fury and he eagerly tried to match you. “fucking another man behind my back so cruel.” he whimpers as it feels like a dagger begins to dig into his chest, “im sorry im sorry.” he slurs against your lips messily as you begin to pull him back as you sit on the bed, staring up at him. “prove it.”

He drops down to his knees like he was born to, quickly throwing himself under your skirt and get a taste of you like hes been craving for weeks now. your hand grips the back of his head while he begins to lick at you through your underwear and you look at cregan who takes another chug from his bottle before placing it down and walking back over to the two of you. jacaerys pushes aside your underwear and moans into you as he gets a taste of you. you gasp and look down at jacaerys skirt over head as your free hand grips at the sheets below you. “fuck jace.”

as his lips wrap around your pearl he gasps into you as he feels a body press against him and hands wrap around his cock. “dont think im not gonna join in.” jacaerys heart pounds as he continues to messily eat at you while cregan rubs his hands all over his cock, coating his fingers in his precum before sliding him inside of jace. his back arches and the vibration of his moan has you throwing your head back while cregan works open his hole as hes done plenty of times now.

the pit continues to build in your stomach and you lock eyes with cregan who grins at you and you wipe some sweat off your face, “dont you look pretty?” “shut the fuck up cregan.” the man laughs as he continues to work his fingers inside of jace, “you look so pretty when you’re about to cum doesn’t see jace?” the man though he cant see you now knows the expression on your jace far too well and nods eagerly against you. once you do release jace eagerly licks up every drop before you rip his head away and cregan pulls his fingers out. jacaerys still without any sort of release grows desperate as tears stream down his face.

“im sorry im sorry ill be good i swear please just let me cum please please.” you lean back into the bed and stare at cregan with a mock pondering look, “hmm what do you think my lord you think hes been good enough?” cregan smirks while jacaerys looks up at him with a pleading look, “oh how can you deny this face? look at him.” cregan cups his face in his hands and brushes some of his tears away. you look at jacaerys fucked out face and pretend to ponder for a few more moments while jacaerys squirms in cregans arms before grinning. “fine, come on my love.”

jacaerys heart beams at your words finally calling him by the affectionate name you had given him and he rushes towards you, “undress us.” his hands greedily tug off your clothes stripping you both bare and you grab his face and kiss him lightly. “you know ill always accept you jace, no matter what.” the layered meaning of your words hits him like a truck and the tears continue to well in his eyes, “i do not deserve you.” you shake your head as you affectionately run your fingers through his hair, “if this is who you are i do not mind it. i am serious, the three of us can be together if you so wish. cregan will grow on me im sure.” “im still here you know.”

you lightly chuckle as jacaerys beams at you, “you are the most amazing person i have ever met.” cregan now as bare as the both of you walks towards you two and raises a brow, “am i atleast second place?” jacaerys turns his head towards him, “of course you are.” cregan softly smiles and leans to press a gentle kiss against his lips.

When the two of them pull away the lust returns and you greedily turn jacaerys towards you and pull him into a deep kiss, falling back with him on top of you, “fuck me jace.” he moans as he eagerly lines himself up and pushes into you, shoving his head into the side of your neck as he bottoms out. he begins to work himself into a gentle rhythm before he feel cregans cock press against his hole and he freezes as cregan works his way inside of jacaerys.

jacaerys has never felt so full. so content. with the two people he loves the most bringing him to the heights of pleasure. he hopes his days are like this for the rest of his life, with the two of you by his side. that night after you had left the study and made a mess around cregans room as well he listens to the two of you bicker in bed about the mess youve made in his father study and how his legacy has been tarnished, “is it not strange he has a bed in his study?” “my father spent most of his time in his study, how do you think i was made?” “yuck do not say those things.” “oh you were certainly not complaining as i was eating-“ “oh dont bring up old news stark.” that night jacaerys falls asleep with a big smile on his face your voices lulling him to sleep.

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

Studious V (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+

Aemond reads your notes, and you both finally come clean. After he introduces you to his best friend, you invite him back to your chambers.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: OOH BOY ITS TIME! We got tiddy suckin', we got fingering (f receiving), we got oral sex (f receiving), and we got p in v sex (finally), and of course, Aegon!

Author's Note: Bone apple teeth, y'all

Read Part I Here - Read Part II Here - Read Part III Here - Read Part IV Here - Read Part VI Here

My Masterlist

Taglist will be done via reblogs (there are simply too many of you to fit here)

Studious V

Only a few minutes later, you sat across from Aemond at the small dining table in his chambers – obviously only ever intended for one. He had to drag one of the chairs by the hearth across the room just so you could sit with him. For he had insisted you stay while he read your notes, assuring you that it would not take long.

“I read very quickly,” he explained. “I have to, if I hope to read everything I want to.”

Now, you sat silently across from him as you watched him read. He held your diary in his right hand while his left held open his own where it rested on the table. While reading, he would often look between the two, cross-referencing what you had written about with his original entries.

It was quite amusing, being able to watch his reactions. Subdued as they were, you still caught him, on various occasions, both smiling and frowning. He even blushed once! You smiled as you recalled him doing the same to you – watching your face as you read in the library. Perhaps you were more similar than you had once thought.

For a long while, Aemond said nothing. He hardly even looked at you – only glancing up a few times and shying away when he noticed you looking back.

Until once, he did not look away. Though he did blush quite deeply.

“I apologise,” he whispered, “I did not realise how… detailed I was in some instances. You should not have had to read such depravity. Please, forgive me.”

So, he reached the library entry. And you had not written anything in response – a stark difference from every other entry. It was no wonder that he thought you offended. But you were most certainly not offended, and you had heard enough apologies from him to last you the rest of your lifetimes.

You reached across the table – hardly difficult, as it was so small – and brushed your fingers against his. The urge to fully take his hand was strong, but you did not want to push too far before the two of you had settled everything.

“There is no need to apologise,” you said, your first words since you gave him the diaries. “It is perfectly natural for a man to… think about his wife in such a way. Didn’t Septon Eustace tell you that so long as we were married, lust is not a sin?”

Aemond smiled a little at that, but his brow was still furrowed in concern, as if he did not believe you entirely.

“I actually –” you began, laughing a little as you spoke to relieve the tension. “I actually found it quite… interesting.”

“Oh!” Aemond’s mouth fell open, and his eye widened in the same expression that had once made you think he looked like a freshly caught fish. This time was perhaps even more satisfying than the first, as a flush quickly spread across his face and climbed all the way to his ears, until he was as red as his family crest.

“I… um, I am glad,” Aemond’s statement sounded curiously more like a question as his eye darted from you to the table to the diaries. “I thought that… I suppose… I was just… I still – I am still sorry.”

And with that, he turned back to diaries.

-

Judging by the position of the sun – which you were never very good at, so your estimations were far from precise – it took less than an hour for Aemond to finish reading. You had passed nearly all the time by surveying his rooms.

His rooms were immaculate, which was no surprise. Everything spotless and precisely arranged. Each tapestry, of which there were few, was hung perfectly. The vases on a table near the hearth were spaced so evenly that you could not imagine how it could have been without a measuring stick. And the books on the many bookshelves were well organised.

But as well as it was kept, it did not feel like Aemond. The tapestries were finely made, but the subjects – one hunting scene, one depiction of the Red Keep, one of the Seven, and one of a dragon that did not look like any of the ones you had heard described – were very standard. The vases were well crafted, but they, too, were plain. Two in varying shades of brown, one brass, and one in a simple pattern of brass and black. Even the bookshelves seemed impersonal. They were filled to the brim with leather and linen tomes, each as pristine as they must have been when they were first bound.

There were no little trinkets, personal items, or anything else that would identify Aemond as the occupant. If not for its position at the heart of the Holdfast or the fact that you could see Aemond’s sword and dagger leaning against a wardrobe in what must be the bedroom, you would think these were guest quarters.

How was he content with living in such an impersonal space?

You had filled the walls of your rooms until you could hardly see the stone, cluttered your tables with crafting supplies and reminders of your home and family, and stuffed so many of the small items you had collected over your lifetime in your shelves that there was hardly room for books. And while Aemond had been fascinated by the decoration within your rooms, he had still chosen not to make his own a home.

Perhaps you could help him fix that.

But before you could start considering how to do so, you looked back to him and immediately became mesmerised. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his eye snapping between the two diaries with dizzying speed, and his lips slightly pursed. It almost seemed as though he was studying rather than simply reading.

He cared about this – very much so. He was almost… desperate.

Did he still think you would ask to be separated from him? After you had read his diary, as he asked? After you returned to him and offered your own? After you had assured him you were not repulsed by what he had written?

Had you really been so cold to him that he could still believe you would run away?

A chill settled over you at the possibility. Perhaps several days ago, you may have accepted his offer to return to your home. Now, the thought of leaving him made you almost nauseous, though you were not entirely sure why. You wrapped your arms around yourself and cast your gaze down to the table surface.

“I’ve finished,” Aemond said merely a moment later. You looked up to see him setting your diary down next to his, then turning the pages of each back to the beginning of your shared story.

You sat up straighter in your chair, first placing your clasped hands on the table, then in your lap, then unclasping them so you could bunch the skirts of your dress in your hands – both to try and calm your nerves and soak up the moisture that had begun to form the moment Aemond spoke again. After you gave him a short nod, he began.

He laid his clasped hands atop the diaries, then separated them to grip the edges of the table on either side of the journals, then finally deciding to keep one hand on his diary while the other picked up his quill pen, which he began to fiddle with restlessly.

“I, um… I should like to start by thanking you for reading this,” he said, his voice less sure than you were used to. He did not meet your gaze, instead looking straight down at the books before him. “And I wish to apologise – again. First, for being so incompetent that this was the only way I could express my feelings, and secondly, for the admittedly humiliating things you read.”

“Aemond,” you interrupted before he could continue. When he looked at you in near panic, you scoffed and shook your head slightly. “If you apologise to me again, I might scream.”

He looked shocked by your words, then nodded gravely. “I did not realise how often I was doing so. I ap… shit, no.” He shut his eye and heaved a great sigh. “I will endeavour to do so less in the future, though I cannot promise I will not have to, on occasion.” The corner of his mouth quirked in the shadow of a smile as he winced slightly. “We both know how often I have cause to.”

“That is acceptable,” you whispered, “thank you.”

Both of you smiled at each other, your gazes locked. The moment lingering a bit longer than it would have with a stranger or even a friend. Then Aemond turned back to the diaries and frowned.

“I don’t quite know…” he trailed off, shaking his head slightly. “Forgive me, but my first reply to your notes was to be an apology for the careless and mean-spirited remarks I made about the merits of embroidery. I don’t know what to say if I am forbidden to apologise.”

You blinked, unsure of what to say. Yet it pleased you greatly that he was taking your request that he stop apologising so seriously.

Aemond did not wait for you to give him an answer, speaking with both urgency and sincerity. “It was thoughtless of me to write what I did. I was exhausted by the day and unhappy with how my grandsire chose to conduct my betrothal and marriage. And admittedly, I know little about the craft, and therefore underestimated it.”

“I am touched by your words,” you whispered, flustered by the intensity with which he regarded you, as if whatever you said next held the power to either destroy him or build him higher. “Perhaps, instead of apologising, you could tell me how you intend to make amends?”

“Of course,” his face lit up when he realised you were not upset with him. “I… I will learn more about embroidery so that I may truly appreciate it. Could… would you be willing to teach me?”

Based on the moment of panic that you saw come over him, you knew your shock at the request was rather poorly concealed. Bashfully, Aemond looked away. “After seeing the beautiful things that you have created – or I assume you have, as they were in your rooms, and depicted your home and interests – I truly wish to understand how they are made.”

Gods, he was serious. He truly wanted you to teach him how to create embroidery! The very idea was so amusing you could not hide your smile. “That is a wonderful solution, Aemond,” you said with all the reassurance you could muster. “I look forward to seeing what beautiful things you will make.”

“Oh, I am certain that compared to you… I mean, your own works, my attempts will seem quite poor. Laughable, even.”

“Well, I have had many years of practice,” you replied, “and a true love of the craft. It gives me an advantage over you. Although having seen you fight, I believe you have great potential as an embroiderer.”

Aemond’s head tilted slightly. “I don’t understand how the two skills correlate.”

“You fight with precision,” you explained, feeling yourself flush at the memory of him in the training yard. “Your movements are controlled and exact. The same skills are required in embroidery.”

“Then perhaps learning embroidery will further improve my fighting skills,” he said, almost jokingly. But any hint of a smile faded quickly, and he ducked his head, looking up at you as he continued. “I… I would like it if you could continue to come and watch me. When I practice. Not every day if you don’t want to, but every few days? Only if it would interest you, of course.”

“It would interest me very much!” you said, probably too quickly. But you had thought about Aemond wielding his sword so many times in the days since you actually saw him, and you were eager to see it again – and more of it. Up close, preferably.

He blushed again, though he reined it in much faster this time and resumed his cool, almost bureaucratic demeanour. “As for your list of books – some I have read, some I have heard of, and others I know nothing about. I would like to sit down with you and discuss them all. We could do that now, if you’d like?”

“I appreciate the thought, but today, I think we have more important things to discuss?” Indeed, you hadn’t anticipated this much discussion. You hadn’t even thought he would want you to remain with him while he read. But here you sat, not in your own rooms, in a carriage on your way home, or – as you had half-hoped for – in a bed.

Every moment you spent with Aemond was another agonising moment you spent not knowing what would happen between you. You were so eager for an answer – a conclusion.

But it was only fair that Aemond be allowed to respond to your comments and questions, so you bit your lip and prepared for more. After all, your husband was quite thorough. That much was clear from his research.

“Indeed we do,” he said as he flipped over a page of his diary. “I would be more than happy to take you to the Grand Sept. The family attend service there instead of the Royal Sept at least once per moon turn, but we can certainly go sooner if you prefer. It wouldn’t have to be for a service. We could just… go.”

“Choose a day,” you said, “and I will be with you.”

“I can’t wait for you to see it,” Aemond said with a smile. “It is truly…”

“Grand?” you offered.

“Yes, it has been named well,” his smile grew wider. “I am beginning to think that I, too, need to create a list of all the times you’ve made me laugh.”

You cocked your head, perplexed. “But… you didn’t laugh.”

“Oh, um…” Aemond looked away and grimaced, tapping his pen against his diary several times. “I don’t, often, laugh. Not aloud, at least.” After a deep inhale, he faced you again. “I assure you though, I felt like laughing! But I will try to do so in future, so it will be easier to know when I am amused.”

“No, Aemond,” you chided softly. “I don’t want you to change yourself for me. Now that I know what you look like when you ‘feel like laughing,” I will be able to recognise it. And, based on how extensive my list was, I believe I will laugh aloud enough for the both of us.”

He flipped to the page where you had made your list – throughout reading his diary, you would often return and add onto it, until it took up most of the page. He stared at it for a long moment, running his fingers over the words as if he could feel them. “I am immensely glad to have made you laugh, for there is nothing I desire more than to see you happy.”

Heat spread over every inch of your skin as you flushed, both from his words and what you were about to say. “There is ‘nothing you desire more?’” You bit your lip as you pointed to his diary. “Some of your later entries suggest otherwise.”

Aemond’s flush quickly grew to match your own. “I… there are things I desire nearly as much, but your happiness remains the greatest of them all.”

You both stayed there for a long moment, blushing and smiling at each other. All the while, you willed your racing heart to calm and your burning skin to cool. But beneath Aemond’s gaze, there was no hope for either. He looked at you with not only a lustful hunger but with admiration, longing, and a kind of reverence that made you at once bashful and confident.

If you stayed that way for much longer, you felt as though you would combust.

“I believe you skipped ahead a few entries,” you said. Even the whisper sounded like a shout in the silence that had descended upon you.

“Indeed I have,” he half-laughed, returning the diary to where he had left off. “My ap… I will begin again in the proper place. Please, inform me if I stray again?”

“I will,” you assured, nearly laughing yourself.

His eye lingered on you for a moment before he actually began again. “I wish I had danced with you all night,” he said, his smile fading as he looked at your next note morosely. “It had been my plan, actually. But as you read, I feared that if I remained so close to you, looking as radiant as you did, I would have done something untoward and inappropriate. Worse, I feared doing something you would not want.”

He would not meet your eye, but still, you spoke. “I admit, had you started ravishing me on the dancefloor, I likely would have reacted poorly,” you said with sombre humour. Aemond didn’t acknowledge it. “But I wanted to dance with you, talk to you. To begin to understand the man with whom I would spend the rest of my life.”

Aemond pursed his lips, his lone eye blinking furiously.

“If you had kissed me then,” you continued, though you doubted it was a good idea, “I would have welcomed it.”

You swore you saw a flash of tears in his eye before hanging his head so low his face was hidden. “I swear to you that, from this moment on, I will dance with you whenever you want,” Aemond whispered, his voice low and crackling with emotion, “wherever we are, and whether we have music to accompany us or simply the rhythm of our own hearts.”

He raised his head to face you, his eye flicking back to the diary once before again fixing on you. “I also swear that you will never again fall asleep without my first wishing you goodnight. Even if we are parted and far from each other, I shall wish it upon the wind and pray that it carries my words to you.”

The vows settled on your heart with more weight and meaning than those he had sworn to you in the Sept. For these were not of words written by a Septon long ago and repeated by countless men and women in their own marriages. These vows were not shared – they were only for you.

It would only be proper for you to swear your own vows in return, but you did not know what to swear. Despite having read his diary, you did not know him so well as he knew you. Guilt threatened to overwhelm you, and you could only say a quiet thanks before signalling for him to continue.

You were silent for a while, offering only small smiles and nods as Aemond promised to not damage his finely made diary any further, told you that your wedding presents were being catalogued in the Royal Vault and would be returned to you soon, and that he had confirmed with Lord Jasper that Coryanne Wylde – his ancestor – was indeed the author of ‘A Caution for Young Girls.”

With each of his explanations, you only gave him half your focus, as the other half was occupied trying to figure out what you could swear to him. Perhaps that you would only ever wear nightclothes he found attractive?

For a moment, you were sure he could read your mind, as the moment after the thought came to you, he turned a page and began, “Your robe – ”

“What about it?” you asked, louder and more defensively than you originally intended.

Aemond stared at you, shocked by the sudden outburst. “I was going to say that I do not, in fact, hate it, I swear.”

“Oh,” you said, sinking slightly into your chair as your cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

“It is a very fine robe, well made and quite beautiful,” he continued, graciously ignoring your current state. “It just… it is so large that I feel as though you are hiding, and I don’t ever want you to hide from me. Or even feel like you must. I never meant to offend something you hold so dear.”

“Oh,” you said again. After correcting your posture to something decidedly more ladylike, you took a deep breath and gave an explanation of your own. “I wasn’t hiding, I promise. But that robe is one of the few things that makes me feel…” you struggled to find the right word. “Safe.”

Aemond’s face blanched, and while his eye hardened, his brow raised in concern. “The Red Keep – and the Holdfast especially – is the safest place in the realm, perhaps the world. No harm will come to you, I swear. I will – ”

You held up a hand to stop him, and despite his furore, he quieted at your command. “That’s not what I mean by ‘safe,’ Aemond.”

“Then I am afraid I don’t understand.”

With a sigh, you looked up at the ceiling, searching for a way to explain the complex feeling. “I don’t mean ‘safe’ in a physical way. I don’t fear that I will be harmed or killed. I mean safe in a… in my heart. Perhaps my soul too.”

Aemond’s eye narrowed, but he said nothing, so you continued. “Since my family has left, I have felt very alone – painfully so. I hardly know anyone here, nor do they know me.” At that, your husband seemed ready to protest, but you did not let him. “From reading your diary, I do believe you know me. Better than I would have ever thought in the short time we have known each other. But even then, I have seen you so little, and spoken to you even less.”

He nodded, “Another failing I must atone for.”

“Well, I suppose I could have approached you myself. But after our wedding night…” Aemond flinched at the reminder but remained silent. “I was confused. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t quite that. And I know some of it is my fault! Please don’t blame yourself entirely. Still, you never spoke to me, not at court or at dinners. You never asked to see me or even escort me back to my rooms after dinner. I thought I had disappointed you, but I could not summon the courage to ask you how.”

“I never meant to abandon you,” Aemond murmured, “I just didn’t want to frighten you further. I was trying to – ”

“I know,” you smiled, inclining your head toward the diaries. “I understand now. But my understanding does not mean that I do not wish we had both made different choices.”

“As you said in your apology,” he said, almost to himself. Silence fell over you as he turned the page and traced his finger over your words again. “The robe is your reminder of home, where you are safe and loved, not scared and dreading the life ahead of you.”

“Yes.”

“And in my idiocy, I took that from you.”

“It was a shared idiocy,” you mused, grateful when Aemond’s tense shoulders dropped at your forgiving tone. “You were very kind to me that day, and yet I took the first opportunity to assume the worst of you.”

“I am afraid I gave you ample cause to assume the worst of me.”

“Maybe so, but I won’t do it anymore,” you felt meek saying the words, like a child promising their parents to stop misbehaving.

But then Aemond smiled, his cheeks tinged with colour again, and under his warm gaze, you felt… safe. “And I will not give you any more cause to.”

You smiled back, holding a girlish giggle, the origin of which was unknown to you.

“That reminds me,” Aemond said with a wicked grin. He tapped your open diary once, twice. “I like it when you scrunch your nose because of the delicious contradiction. Such an unpleasant expression upon the loveliest of faces.”

You pouted, then immediately realised your mistake when his grin grew wider and moved to cover your now-scrunched nose with your hands. Aemond only laughed at your embarrassment. “I cannot decide whether that is a compliment or not,” you said, causing another round of laughter.

“I assure you, it is meant entirely as a compliment,” he assured, still coming down from his amusement. He took a deep breath and then went still. “None could ever insult your appearance, for they could find no faults. And if they did… I would assure they were properly punished.”

Your flush was so great you could feel its heat when you dropped your head into your hands. “I suppose I should ask, how fares the painter who made my miniature?”

Another grin, this one positively lupine. “He has not been harmed, but I doubt he will ever again be commissioned by the noble families. If he does not flee across the Narrow Sea, he will be fortunate to find any amongst the smallfolk who can pay him more than a silver piece for his work..”

Such a severe punishment, just for a painting that had not shown your beauty? You didn’t know whether to be horrified or flattered. Or impressed that he held such influence. Judging by the fluttering feeling that filled your chest, you knew you were flattered more than anything. And the look on Aemond’s face, a look of pure confidence and power, stirred such powerful desire within you that you had to grip the arms of your chair to stop yourself from planting yourself on his lap – precisely as he had written about.

Your hands remained clutched to the chair as Aemond told you that he would be more than happy to study Valyrian history with you, and that he did not pick all the dog roses from the garden, for those he left were promptly collected by the Maesters. He expressed his desire to visit your home, but with the caveat that you would protect him from your brothers. And he assured you that he would not take a vow of silence so that you could hear his voice whenever you wanted.

Finally, he came to your last reply.

He read it again, silently, and slower than you would have liked. Then, he faced you but kept his eye focused on the wall past your shoulder. “I do not know if this is correct,” he said, almost bashfully. “But, I find myself… glad? That you missed me. That you worried for me. I did not know you cared for me that much, or that you cared for me at all.”

“Honestly? Neither did I. Not until that night.” You reached across the table – a short distance which yet felt like the length of the world – and took Aemond’s hand. He gasped, and his hand twitched, but then he sighed in relief. It was almost like the sound he had made when he released his seed within you. The very thought of it made you tighten your grip. “But I do care about you, Aemond... husband.”

To what extent you did not know. But you were very close to finding out.

-

You did not know how long you stayed there, holding hands and saying nothing. Minutes, perhaps. Or hours. In either case, the sun was still up when Aemond suddenly dropped your hand and stood.

“There is… there is something else I should show you,” he said, stumbling over his words as he had the first few times he actually spoke to you. “If you truly want to know me.”

Though you felt a tinge of apprehension at his vague words and that you could not imagine what else there was for him to show you after giving you his diary. Still, you nodded. “I do – want to know you.”

He stood, his back rigid as he extended a hand toward you. “Come, I will call a wheelhouse to take us.”

“A wheelhouse? Where are we going?”

“To the edge of the Kingswood.” At the look of confusion on your face, he clarified, “It is where Vhagar resides.”

“Vhagar? Your dragon?” You took his hand and let him pull you up, your shock at his request momentarily replaced by the strength you felt in the motion – the same strength that had enraptured you in the training yard.

“Well, she is not my dragon,” he clarified. “It doesn’t work like that. There is no ownership one way or the other. It’s more like… a partnership. I am her rider, and she is my mount.”

It took you a moment to collect your thoughts as Aemond began to lead you – still holding your hand – out of his rooms. He whispered briefly to the first guard you saw, who immediately ran toward the stables. When you were alone, he turned to you. “It… might be cool. Would you like to fetch a cloak from your rooms?”

You did, and you didn’t. While you didn’t want to endure the cold, you couldn’t help but think about what would happen if you felt cold and didn’t have a cloak. Would Aemond offer you his or perhaps invite you to share his?

“Yes,” you answered breathlessly. “I would like that.”

He smiled and led you back to your rooms. So far from his own, yet with him leading you, the distance seemed to pass far faster than when you ran to him earlier that day.

Aemond stopped when you came to your door, lingering for a moment. “Would you… should I come in?” He turned to you with pleading eyes that you could tell he was trying to conceal. “I can remain outside if you wish it.”

He moved to drop your hand, but you held firm. “I would like you to come inside,” you said. “You know better than I what I will need, so I should like your assistance in selecting a cloak.”

Aemond gave you his fish look again, utterly dumbfounded. As if going into your dressing room was somehow more intimate than him fucking you. Fortunately, he regained his composure quickly and bowed his head. “Of course, whatever you wish.”

He opened the door and allowed you to lead him inside, past the couch where he had given you flowers, past the bedchamber where you had lain together, and into your dressing room. When you turned back to him, he was looking around as if he were just led into a room full of grand tapestries and works of art rather than clothes and shoes.

“What is it, Aemond?” you asked, suddenly worried that he may have seen something that offended him.

“It is just…” he laughed lightly before looking back to you, “I didn’t think anyone could actually fill their dressing room – especially not one this large.”

Though he smiled, you were yet filled with worry. “I promise I am not vain!” you pled, holding his hand to your chest. “My mother believes that a lady should always… and since I was to marry a prince, she – ”

You were silenced when Aemond pressed a kiss to your joined hands. “You have married a prince, and he does not think you vain, I swear. Actually, he is rather excited to see how beautiful you look in each and every item here.”

For a moment, you strongly considered leading him into the bedroom and leaving Vhagar for another day. But you had other plans for how you wanted that reunion to go. So, you reluctantly dropped his hand and pointed to the room’s far corner. “The cloaks are over there.”

Being a royal bride and one of only two daughters of a wealthy house meant that your trousseau was extraordinary. As such, you had more than a dozen cloaks, at least one for every colour of the rainbow.

Aemond went first to a black cloak – your warmest. While its wool was sparsely decorated, it was lined with the exquisite striped fur of a shadowcat. But after running his fingers once through the fur, Aemond pushed it aside.

He went next to a red cloak, intricately embroidered with gold and black dragonscale patterns (although the designs were somewhat abstract). It had been specially made when the match was announced, to honour the colours and sigil of your new house. But it, too, was rejected.

The green cloak – the one of dark emerald, not the light sage – was considered as well, longer than the other two. It was made from rich velvet and decorated with pearls. But Aemond let it behind, as well.

After quickly sorting through the next seven, he, at last, stopped to examine another. This one was made from a gentle pink jacquard, the pattern difficult to spot from a distance but absolutely lovely when near. The inside was lined with a light layer of undyed wool, and the edges with a thin strip of sable fur.

It was your favourite.

And it was the one Aemond chose.

“Wear this one,” he whispered as he brought it to you, holding it as though it was the most precious thing he’d ever held. “It suits you… very well.”

The flush on his cheeks gave you a rush of confidence, enough that you lifted your hair and turned around. Looking at Aemond over your shoulder, you dropped your eyes to the floor in a show of shyness. “Will you put it on me?”

Aemond’s gaze never left the skin of your exposed neck as he approached and laid the cloak over you with the gentlest whisper of a touch. He was close enough that you could hear his breathing quicken and feel the heat roiling off him. After the excessive amount of time he spent assuring that the cloak fell correctly, he finally stepped in front of you to fasten the front.

He tried, so very hard, to not look at your face as he did. But you caught every time his eye looked up at you – your eyes, your cheeks, your lips.

Kiss me, you willed silently, not yet brave enough to ask for it aloud.

The wish went unfulfilled. Once he had fastened the twin brooches of your cloak, Aemond smoothed it over once more, then offered you his hand. “The wheelhouse will be waiting for us,” he said.

You took his hand and let him lead you away.

-

The journey to the edge of the Kingswood passed quickly, the time filled with idle conversation about the city as you raced past it. You had questions about every statue, alleyway, and building; for the most part, Aemond had answers. The city’s history was inexorably tied to House Targaryen, and so he had taken it upon himself to learn everything there was to know about it.

It was enough to soothe your fears about meeting the largest dragon in the world. Until that is, you passed through the city gates, and the Kingswood appeared on the horizon.

“Why does Vhagar live in the forest?” you asked, peering through the curtains of the wheelhouse. “Why does she not live in the Dragonpit with the others?”

Aemond raised his brows proudly, “She has grown so large that she can no longer fit in the Dragonpit.”

The very idea was at once awesome and terrifying. You had seen the Dragonpit in the distance from your windows at the Red Keep and some dragons flying around it. That Vhagar could not even fit inside…

“So Maegor did not build it large enough? Even when he rode Balerion?”

“Well,” Aemond shrugged. “She could fit in the Dragonpit if it was necessary. But it would not be comfortable. It would stifle her. I do not want that.”

Just as he did not want you to be alone and trapped in the castle – enough that he would set you free of it if you asked. “You care for her very much, then?”

“I do, yes,” he answered, his eyes becoming contemplative while his lips still curled in a smile. “She is… I have told you that the relationship between dragon and rider is like a partnership, yes?”

“You have, yes.”

“It means that there must be understanding between the pair,” he explained. “Common ground, or even a shared soul. I know it may seem illogical or insane, but Vhagar understands me. She cannot speak it, but I know that she does. For most of my life, it has felt like she is the only one…” he trailed off as his eye came to rest once more upon you.

Until you, you could hear the words as well as if he had shouted them. Rather than a pit of fear, it created a warmth within you. Aemond understood you, and you were beginning to feel as if you understood him as well.

“Then I very much look forward to meeting her,” you replied. It was the truth, though you still possessed a healthy tinge of fear at meeting a dragon said to be now larger than Balerion had been during the conquest.

Aemond lifted the curtain from his window and looked back at you with an eager grin. “You will not have to wait much longer, my dear. We have arrived.”

When the porter opened the wheelhouse door, Aemond lept out. But you remained frozen in your seat. Had he not realised what he had just said?

“My dear.”

It has been said with such ease as though it was something he called you often. But that was the first time. Those two simple words had struck you like a thunderbolt and left you feeling as though you had run the distance from the castle for how fast your heart was racing.

After a moment, Aemond reappeared at the door, his arm extended to you. “Come,” he bade. “There is no reason to fear. She will not hurt you.”

You almost laughed at his misinterpretation of your state, but not wanting to explain the truth of it, you merely stood and took his arm. “Forgive me, but meeting a dragon is not an experience granted to many.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” he said, squeezing your arm and pulling you closer to him. “There never has been.”

“None of that now,” you begged. “That is all behind us. Let us just enjoy our new present.” You turned away from him, ending any argument he may have put forward.

You were expecting to be greeted by the sight of the great Vhagar, but all that was before you was the forest’s edge. A clearing of sorts, where the ground was tamped thoroughly flat, and nearly all the trees were missing their tips.

“Where is she?” you asked, surprised to find yourself disappointed that she was not there.

Aemond gently dropped your arm and stepped forward. “She must be off hunting. I will call her.” He walked to the edge of the clearing, then raised his hand to his lips and whistled louder than you had ever imagined a person could. “Vhagar! Māzīs va nykēlā !”

The forest fell silent once more, but he did not move to call again.

“Was that Valyrian?” You moved closer to him, but not all the way into the clearing. “The words you just said. ”

He turned back to you with an amused smile. “It was. It means ‘Come to me.’ That is how I call her back when she is away.”

You came even closer to him, your curiosity getting the better of you, until he was only a step ahead. “And she can hear you? Even if she is all the way across the Kingswood?”

“She can hear me if she is near enough,” he said as he held out his hand for you to take, “but the calling is more than just words. She can sense that I want her to come to me, even if she can’t hear me.”

“That is – ”

You were cut off by the loudest sound you had ever heard. A roar which seemed to shake the very foundation of the earth and the thunderous pounding of wings. Gods, how large were her wings to make such a sound?

Without realising it, you had thrown yourself into Aemond’s arms. Your face was pressed to his chest while your hands gripped the leather of his coat. He did not laugh or push you away. Of course he didn’t. He only wrapped his arms around you and whispered soothing reassurances.

It was so warm in his arms, and with the music of his calm, steady voice, you could have easily fallen asleep then and there.

That is, if the wingbeats weren’t coming nearer.

As the sound of them grew overwhelming, then stopped, you allowed Aemond to turn you to face none other than Vhagar, Queen of All Dragons.

She was enormous.

Her body filled the clearing entirely, her tail snaking through the trees beyond until the end of it – some 100 feet away- wrapped around the broad trunk of a great oak. You followed the tail up, over aged green scales that climbed higher and higher until you were looking at a torso taller than the two-story cottage your grandmother lived in. And though her wings were tucked in to allow her to fit in the clearing, you could easily guess that they measured even longer than her body when extended.

Even her head was so large that you had to turn your neck up to see her eyes – bright orange eyes that glowed like a roaring fire as they looked down upon you. Her lip curled as she rumbled a low growl, revealing teeth as long as your forearm, and you stepped back into Aemond’s chest.

“Lykirī, Vhagar,” he commanded, wrapping one arm protectively around your waist. “Dohaeras.” You could feel his hair shift against your back as he turned his head to look at you. “Ziry ñuhon ābrazȳrys issa.”

Vhagar ended her growl but continued baring her teeth as she tilted her head to better examine you. After a moment, she narrowed her eyes at Aemond.

“Ziry sepār nyke izūgilen issa daor,” he said with a distinctly reassuring tone. “Nyke jorrāelan zirȳla. Olvie nyke jorrāelan zirȳla.”

Finally, the dragon hid her terrifying teeth and, with a huff of steam from her nostrils, extended her neck to come closer to you.

“Aemond…” you whispered, near cowering as Vhagar came close enough for you to smell the brimstone on her breath.

“It’s alright,” he replied. His lithe fingers began to trace lines up and down your sides. Whether it was as a distraction or a comfort, you did not know. “She just wants to get your scent, so she can know you better.”

You tried to calm yourself, not wanting Vhagar to smell your fear – if that was something a dragon could smell. When she finally brought her snout almost to touching you before sniffing, each inhale sucking all the heat out of the air around you. After a moment, she withdrew slightly and made a noise that, had you not been merely thankful she hadn’t eaten you, you would have described it as a purr.

“She likes you,” Aemond said into your ear, pride dripping from each word. “She likes you very much. Would you like to pet her?”

A nervous laugh escaped you before you could stop it. “You want me to pet a dragon? Like she is a dog.”

“She enjoys it, I promise.” He lifted his hand from your side to take yours and guided it to the scales between her nostrils. “This is her favourite place. That’s it. You don’t have to scratch, just stroke her scales – be sure to follow their natural direction. She won’t like it if you tug on them.”

Vhagar continued to purr as you stroked her scales, only making contact with the downward motion. Your smile grew so wide your cheeks ached, and you could not help but laugh. “She’s like an old cat! A very big old cat.”

Aemond laughed with you, again hugging you to him as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “Be glad she can’t understand you, for she is a very grumpy big old cat.”

“I feel almost foolish to have been afraid,” you confessed as you ever so slightly bumped your head against his.

“We like to keep people – most people – afraid of the dragons. It makes them a more effective deterrent.” He nuzzled into you and sighed happily. “But I am glad you are not afraid. Would you like to ride her?”

“What?” You froze, looking up at Vhagar’s saddle high above you and the sky even higher still. “I, uh…”

Aemond shushed your frantic attempt to find words. “If you don’t want to, I won’t force you. It is a unique thrill to fly, but I understand it is not for everyone.”

You turned in his arms. “I would like to, eventually. But today, I believe I have already used all my bravery.”

Well, not all of it. But you only just had enough left to get you through your plans for the night, and you were determined to keep it.

“Then we shall return to the Keep,” he said, not a hint of disappointment on his face, “and wait for a day when your bravery has returned. It is approaching sunset, and I will be expected at dinner.”

You nodded, and Aemond said a farewell to Vhagar in Valyrian before leading you back to the wheelhouse. The two of you rode in comfortable silence back to the castle, until he again helped you out.

“I would like to come to dinner with you,” you told him as you walked through the doors of the Red Keep. “And then, after dinner, I would like you to wait an hour and then come to my rooms.”

Aemond blanched, then flushed, then let out a shaky exhale. “Of course,” he breathed, “whatever you want, my dear.”

-

When Aemond arrived in your chambers after dinner – during which he nearly jumped out of his chair each time you spoke or laid your hand on his thigh – you were sitting at the vanity, finishing with your hair. He puttered around in the solar for a moment before coming into the bedchamber, where he looked first to the bed and, upon not finding you there, began to glance around the rest of the room. When he finally turned your way, you met his eyes through the mirror and gave him an overly innocent grin as he took in your attire.

“I… what…?” His babbling continued for a moment before he quieted. For a long while, he just stared at you with an open mouth and a wide eye. He only composed himself again when you stood and approached him, stopping just before you were in arm’s reach of each other. “What are you wearing?”

“Don’t you like it?” You asked with a mischievous pout, glancing down to survey yourself. “You liked it well enough the first time you saw it.”

It took a moment for your words to sink in. You saw the moment he finally heard your words and immediately began to fumble over a reply. “Of course I like it! I more than like it, I adore it. You must know that I do. I just… why this?”

You took two steps forward, until you were close enough that Aemond had to look down to meet your eyes, and you had to look up to see his. Teasingly, you ran a hand over the neckline of your gown, across each pearl and jewel that adorned it. “I thought since you didn’t like my favourite nightclothes, I needed to find something else to entice you. This seemed a good option.”

Aemond murmured something so softly you couldn’t hear it, even as close as you were.

Another step had you standing chest to chest with your husband. You could feel him struggling to calm his breathing as he looked at you, entirely captivated and at your mercy.

Standing on your tiptoes so you could press your cheek to his, you took a moment to smile at the way his breath caught at the contact, and his hand hovered just above your waist, still unsure if he really could touch you. Then, you whispered gently in his ear, “I know you had plans to take this off me yourself, so I thought I’d give you the chance.”

Without giving him a moment to respond, you took several steps back to allow him the best possible view of your wedding gown.

Your maids had been perplexed when you asked that they retrieve it so you could wear it tonight, but they had not argued. Their only complaint was that it was not possible to replicate the braid from your wedding day in such a short amount of time. So, they simply arranged it as nicely as they could before the deadline you gave them and tucked each of the gold and pearl pins you had worn then back into the braids and curls.

With only a few minor differences, you looked precisely as you did on your wedding night.

But now you weren’t afraid of what Aemond would do. Now, you were eager to find out.

“I, uh…” he wrung his hands together as he stepped forward. “I believe we should begin with your hair.”

“Very well.” You flounced over to the vanity and retook your seat, watching him through the mirror as he cautiously approached.

He lifted a shaky hand and ran his hand slowly over the braids. “How do I begin?”

“Start by removing the pins, then brush out the braids.”

“And how many pins are there?”

“Forty-seven,” you answered smugly.

Aemond’s eyes went wide, “That many?”

“Why do you think it takes women so long to dress in the mornings? And undress at night?”

He laughed slightly, then took one of the pearl-tipped pearls between his fingers and gently pulled it out.

On your wedding day, you had thought the pins inordinately large. But seeing one in Aemond’s hands – his very large hands, they seemed miniscule.

“That’s one,” he said, depositing the pin on the surface of the vanity.

With each pin he removed, he kept count and laid each one in a perfectly straight line. But you could not be too amused by it, for each time you were, his hand would brush your neck, cup your head, or tangle into your hair. It had never felt like this when your maids tended to you.

Aemond was a dragon, and his touch was fire.

Each passing brush of his fingers burned within you, building into a raging fire or desire. By the time he finished, and laid the forty-seventh pin on the table, you were well flushed and practically panting. And as he looked to you for further direction, he could see it all. Your only consolation was that he looked as ragged as you.

“Now comb through the braids with your fingers to separate them,” you instructed. You did have a wide-toothed comb specifically meant for separating braids, but you were certainly not going to pass up the opportunity to have his hands in your hair again.

He reached for the first braid – the largest – and hooked his fingers into its base. “Please, tell me if I hurt you.”

“You won’t. I know it.”

“Your confidence is all I need,” he laughed, and began to pull his hand away. The braid spilt past his fingers with an ease you had rarely been fortunate enough to see before. So did the next, and the next, until your hair was once more free to spill down your back.

“Now I brush it?” Aemond asked, reaching for the silver-backed brush on the vanity.

But you stood before he could reach it, turning to him and pushing him slightly away. “You did well enough with your fingers that brushing is unnecessary. And… I know you are eager.” You had felt the hard evidence of it against your back as he stood behind you.

“I am,” he said, “but there are other things I must do first.” He cupped your face gently, his thumb slowly swiping over your cheekbone. His eye was focused solely on your lips but filled with apprehension. And as you watched the slight pursing of his mouth, the tightening of his jaw, and the slightest furrow of his brow, you were confident that you understood exactly what he was thinking.

Funny, he had been reading your thoughts for so long. Now, it seemed you had finally caught up with him.

“You don’t have to ask,” you whispered. “You may kiss me – I want you to kiss me.”

There was a flash of elated surprise, followed by a moment of anxiety, fueled by his desperate desire that tonight not be like before. The last time he had done this, you had shied away from him, asked that he not do the one thing he had been most desperate to do.

You could read it all on his face as clearly as the words in his diary.

So, you decided to ease his anxieties yourself. Seizing the lapels of his doublet, you pulled him down to you and kissed him.

It was far from perfect. You had been overzealous and pulled him with too much force, causing your teeth to clash together as your lips connected.

Neither of you was deterred. Aemond’s hand wrapped around the back of your neck, holding you steady as he kissed, and kissed, and kissed you.

It was like you were dancing – he led, and you followed. When he pressed forward, you allowed him to do so, leaning back to give him the room he needed while still holding him close. When he softly urged your lips to part with his tongue, you offered no resistance. And when he slid one arm around your waist to pull you flush against him, you ran your hand up his chest and into his hair, tugging slightly as you tried to draw him ever closer.

At that, Aemond moaned.

Instinctively, you pulled back, breaking the kiss. It was probably due to end soon anyways – both of you were panting and out of breath.

“What happened?” he asked, his face flashing between confusion and hurt. “What did I do wrong?”

“You did nothing wrong. I did!” You ran your hand out of his hair and held it up as though he could see the evidence upon it. “I hurt you; I apologise.”

Aemond smiled broadly and pulled you in for another kiss. “You did not hurt me,” he whispered when he pulled back. “I made that sound because I enjoyed it.”

“Oh!”

“I assure you,” he said as he guided your hand back into his hair, “you have my enthusiastic permission to continue.” Then he pulled you back in and kissed you again, and again, and again.

You decided that you very much liked kissing your husband, even when he slipped his tongue into your mouth. It was not the most pleasant of sensations for you but one you were willing to become accustomed to so long as it brought him pleasure.

It would have been very easy to stay like that all night, but you had endured putting this complicated gown on again for a reason – for Aemond.

So, with no minor difficulty, you pulled away from him, smiling when he moved to follow you.

“No, no,” you scolded playfully. “Before we continue, I insist you help me out of my dress.”

“Of course,” he answered, his voice nearly breaking with desperation. “Anything you ask of me, I will do.”

You turned slowly away from him and lifted your hair over one shoulder, exposing the lacing on the back of the gown. “Then I ask that you untie me, husband.”

He said nothing, but you felt him approach. Felt the heat of him just behind you and the ghost of his fingers at the base of your neck. You felt the light pressure as he gripped the white satin ribbon with one hand but not the other…

The other he wound around your waist to pull you closer, so that he could plant a chaste kiss against the side of your neck. You shivered at the sensation – the warmth slowly fading as he pulled back.

“I know we are both impatient,” he murmured against your skin, “but I want to savour this moment. Please, allow me to take my time.”

You raised an arm to draw him back to your lips. This kiss was not as hungry as the others. It was soft, sweet, and slow. “Take however long you need, Aemond. I am not going anywhere.”

And take his time he did. With every eyelet he unlaced, he kissed your neck again. As he lowered the sleeves one at a time, he kissed a path from your shoulder to your hands. When he untied your stockings, he rubbed the same soothing circles on your thighs that had once made you desperate for his touch.

Then suddenly, you were only in your shift, the chill of the night air prickling against your skin.

Aemond stood and began to fiddle with the hem of your sleeve. “If you don’t want… If you want to keep this on, I won’t mind.”

“I want this, I promise,” you guided his hand away from the sleeve and down toward the hem, ensuring he came quite close to the space between your thighs. “It’s easier to remove from the bottom.”

He seized the hem and lifted, before pressing his forehead to yours and kissing you again. “I love you. And I ask that you only say it back should you really, truly mean it. With all your heart.”

You knew he wanted to hear it, despite his words. His eye was too pleading, too filled with hope. And though you wanted to say it, just to make him happy, you couldn’t. Not will all your heart, at least. Aemond deserved for it to be true.

So instead, you kissed him, lacing your fingers with his to finally remove the shift and bare yourself to him.

If he minded the diversion, he did not say. In fact, given that you then watched his eye dilate as he looked down at your body, you were fairly confident that he didn’t mind at all. And you were very confident that he loved your breasts, as they were where his gaze always returned to.

“May I…?” he asked breathlessly, his hand floating just above your heart. But at this moment, it was not your heart he wanted, but what lay just beneath it.

Aemond didn’t hesitate to cup your breast in his large hand, covering it completely. Though his touch was warm, your nipples went taut as he slowly massaged one breast, then the other. He tested several different ways of holding them, of applying pressure to them, and even experimented with pinching your peaked nipples – for which you quickly put a limit on how tightly he could do so.

After a moment, he licked his lips and looked up at you for permission. A nod was all he needed to bend down and take your breast into his mouth, laying sloppy kisses all over their surface before rolling his tongue lazily over your nipples.

You had enjoyed all his ministration thus far, but that?

That had your head lolling back as you moaned his name, a moan you were not given the chance to finish before his mouth was again on yours – possessive and wanting.

“Get on the bed,” he panted, a far more passionate entreaty than it had been on your wedding night, and you were far more confident.

You resisted his attempts to pull you closer to the bed, and when he leaned in to try and ply you with more kisses, you countered by nipping the tip of his nose – lightly, but hard enough to get his attention.

“Please,” he begged, ‘please get on the bed.”

“I will, Aemond.” He whined at the breathy way you said his name, tightening his grip on your hips. “First, let me remove your clothes.”

His eye was so dilated you could hardly see any purple and more than half-lidded with lust, but he obeyed, taking a single step away after giving your soft flesh a little squeeze. “Start with the belt, then the doublet, then – ”

“I am fairly confident I can figure out how to remove your clothes,” you teased. Though it soon became clear your confidence was unfounded.

Just undoing the knot on his belt took far longer than you expected. He only laughed when you frustratedly asked why he needed to knot his belt when it already had a perfectly good buckle. Fortunately, the buckles on his doublet were far simpler, though they were small enough to still delay you.

When at last you were able to throw the damned doublet and belt aside, you took your frustrations out on his neck, kissing it with such enthusiasm that you nearly pushed him over. After that display of lust, Aemond was quick to assist you with his shirt and trousers.

The moment he was as bare as you, he tried to pull you onto the bed, but again, you resisted. You had only once seen him nude, but you had not been in the mood to admire his form then. Now, you were mesmerised by the sight before you.

A long neck leading to powerful shoulders, long arms that ended in long fingers, a long, lithe torso with many divots you longed to explore, and long, slender legs corded with muscle. Every single part of him was long. Especially…

“In your diagrams, you only included the female anatomy,” you mused as you approached him, eyes locked on his flushed, hard cock. “I feel I am at a significant disadvantage, since I don’t know – ” You shrieked as Aemond grabbed you by the waist and carried you to the bed, depositing you squarely in the middle before crawling over you and peppering your face with tender kisses.

“Believe me, it is far simpler with men,” he laughed as he descended down your chest. “I doubt you will need any formal instruction.”

Formulating a witty enough response was nearly impossible as he trailed his mouth down and down. Between your breasts, over your stomach, and then –

Then nothing. Aemond sat between your spread legs, lifting your hips to rest slightly on his knees. The grin he flashed was nothing short of pure evil. He held your gaze as he took his thumb briefly into your mouth before bringing it down to that little button at the top of your sex, only long enough to bring you a moment of pleasure before he slipped it further down to part your slick folds.

“Gods,” he sighed, swiping his thumb over your entrance to collect as much fluid as he could before bringing it back to circle your pearl agonisingly slowly. “I’d hoped you’d be wet, but… I never expected this.”

You bucked your hips, trying to get him to go faster, press harder, something. Until now, you had only ever had the briefest tastes of pleasure, but now you craved more. You craved him.

“Please, Aemond!” you squealed as he finally pressed his thumb down harder.

“Give me a moment, my dear,” he said smugly. “I thought it would take longer to get you to this point. I’m having to reassess my plan.”

“Fuck your plan!” you shouted, more helplessly than you intended, judging by Aemond’s answering laugh. “Please, just do something – anything!”

“I am doing something!” he countered, emphasising his point by quickening his movements. “And it looks to me as though you’re enjoying it.”

Damn it, you were. But still, it wasn’t enough. You squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back against the pillow, moaning incoherently.

“Oh, my poor darling,” Aemond cooed, “you really are desperate, aren’t you?”

You felt tears prickle in your eyes as you nodded furiously, only managing to again say “please.”

He slowed his thumb to a stop and crawled back over you, until your faces were level. “Open your eyes, love.” You obeyed, and were rewarded with a soft kiss on your forehead. “Good girl. I’m going to give you more now, but you must promise that if it hurts or if it gets to be too much, you must tell me. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” you squeaked pathetically.

Aemond kissed you one last time before he retook his position between your legs, once more gathering your slick on his pointer finger before slowly – so, so slowly – pushing it inside you. It was a different feeling from his cock; not quite as pleasurable, but the discomfort on entry was far less.

“Is that alright?” he asked, and you nodded. “I’m going to move it now. Please tell me when I’ve found the correct spot.”

You didn’t have a chance to respond before he crooked his finger and found that ‘spot.’ The one he wrote about in his diary, the one that brought nearly the same pleasure as your pearl.

Aemond’s studying has undoubtedly paid off.

Your back arched so dramatically that he had to anchor you to the bed with his free hand on your hip. “There it is,” he crooned, utterly prideful, “do you want me to keep going?” You answered with a slew of yeses that blended into a happy hissing sound, then turned into a loud moan as he inserted another finger into you, crooking it along with the other to massage that magical little spot. “You’re doing so well, my love.”

You were too engulfed in your pleasure that you hardly even noticed the new term of endearment. All you knew was his fingers inside you, stoking a fire that burned brighter, brighter, brighter.

Everything felt hot, and soon a sheen of sweat covered your skin. You took a deep breath, angling your hips almost unconsciously, but in a way that somehow heightened your pleasure enough for your body to shake. There was tension in every muscle, a delightful tension that had you clenching your fists in the sheets and curling your toes to try and relieve. It built and built, focusing on where Aemond was touching you, where his fingers went in and out and pressed and stroked.

It was too much. Your body couldn’t possibly endure this. This was where you had always stopped when you were exploring on your own – this was past that point, and Aemond was only taking you further and further.

“Aemond, please,” you begged. What for, you didn’t know. You didn’t want him to stop, but you were afraid to discover what would happen next.

He sped his movements, watching your face with a heart-stopping intensity in his eye. “Don’t hold it in, love,” he said, splaying his free hand across your stomach. “Give into it, let it go, release.”

The word may well have been a command, for the moment he finished speaking, you let go. Lightning coursed through you, and all your limbs froze and went numb for a moment that felt like it lasted a whole year. The tension dissipated, and all of a sudden you could breathe again, feel again, think again.

“Was that…?”

Aemond’s thumb stroked your belly, the delicate touch making you realise that he had removed his fingers from you and now held them just before his lips. “It was your peak, my love.” Never looking away from you, he took the fingers that were inside you into his mouth, sucking on them as if they were the sweetest candied lemons. “Forgive me, but I think I’d like another.”

It happened so quickly. One moment, he was kneeling between your legs. The next, Aemond had pushed you further up the bed so he could lay on his stomach and drape your legs over his shoulders, his hands holding your rear as he pulled you up until your cunt was pressed to his mouth.

Your hands flew into his hair, simultaneously tugging at it and yet trying to pull him closer. His tongue was surely some kind of miracle. How else would it feel so wonderful as he licked up every drop of moisture between your thighs before pressing into your core?

More miraculous still was his nose, for every time he pushed deeper, it pressed against your pearl, rubbed against it each time he angled his head. He quickly noticed what, exactly, was driving you wild, and took to shaking his head back and forth to make you scream – and scream you did.

“Gods, Aemond, please!” You cried as the delicious tension returned, still crackling with electricity. This was far more intense than his fingers had been, and far faster to take you to that place where you had nearly no control over your own body.

Nearly no control. Some instinct deep within you, which had no purpose but to seek animalistic pleasure, took hold of you. Your hand in his hair tightened so hard he again moaned, sending vibrations through you that nearly pushed you over the edge of your pleasure. But what finally sent you tumbling over was when he allowed you to pull him up until his lips latched around your pearl, and after several long, lingering licks of his tongue, he hummed, and you screamed anew.

When you opened your eyes again, Aemond was once more hovering above you, looking at you as though your reddened, sweaty face was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. You were certain that guards would come streaming into the chambers at the sound, swords drawn, but none did. It was still only you and your husband. He seemed entirely content, but when you glanced down at his cock, you found it so flushed that you were sure it hurt.

“I should…” your voice faded as you reached down to touch the heavy length of him. “I don’t know how, but you could show me.”

Aemond smiled softly, his half-lidded eye seeming to glaze over for a moment. “Another time, I would like nothing more. But tonight…” He leaned down to press a slow, lust-filled kiss to your swollen lips and rested his forehead against yours when he finally withdrew. “Please don’t make me wait any longer, my love.”

Eagerly, you nodded. You were absolutely resolved to learn how to pleasure him – with your hands and mouth–. Still, it seemed a daunting task, and your body was aching to find out what Aemond could do once he was inside you.

So, you did not argue as he reached down to align himself with your entrance. But he did not yet push forward. Supporting himself with one arm, he gave you another short kiss and stroked your hair.

“I promise,” he whispered, “it will be better this time.”

You leaned into his touch and shifted your hips to try and draw him closer. When Aemond hesitated again, you looked into his eye and raised a hand to cup his cheek. “I know it will. Now please, I don’t want to wait either.”

Then he buried himself inside you in one powerful thrust.

There was still a slight pinch of uncomfortable pressure at the start, but it did not last long. And compared to the pleasure it brought you, it was entirely inconsequential. You felt full in the most wonderful way, as if you had been missing something your whole life and finally found it. Warm, like he had lit a fire within you that would burn for the rest of your days. Safe, as though nothing could ever harm you again.

You felt right.

During that moment of stillness, where you both adjusted to the feeling of joining, you buried your face in Aemond’s neck. There was nothing but him, his silver hair blocking the rest of the world from view as his scent enveloped you. Perhaps you could just stay like this forever. That was a delightful thought. You nuzzled further into him as you let out a sigh of contentment.

Aemond tensed and whispered your name. “Does it hurt? Did I not prepare you well enough?”

“No,” you replied, still not pulling away. As the desperate need for even more closeness began to well up in your chest, you wrapped the hand that was cupping his cheek around his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin for how tightly you held him. “It just… it feels – you feel amazing. I wish it had always felt like this.”

“It will now,” Aemond replied, turning to place a kiss atop your head. He, too, sought to bring you closer. He brought his hand down to your waist and pulled you up so that your chests met and moved together as you breathed together. “I promise it will always feel this good. Perhaps better, once we practice a little more.”

“Oh yes!” you squeaked, finally dropping your head back to the pillow so you could look at him. “Let’s do lots of practice!”

With a laugh, he raised his brows in mock questioning. “Might I suggest we start now?”

Words escaped you for a moment, and all you could do was nod vigorously, like a child that had just been offered a whole tray of cakes. Your agreement and excitement seemed to delight Aemond, causing him to smile so wide his eyes crinkled. You instantly decided that you wanted to see that smile every day. Every hour. Every minute. For that smile was brighter than the sun itself.

“Put your legs around me, love,” he instructed, curling his hand around your thigh to guide you. Once you were positioned exactly how he wanted you, he pulled himself slightly closer to the headboard and leaned in for one last kiss, stopping just above your lips. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” you breathed against him, “so very ready.”

-

Aemond stayed in your bed all night, continuing to pleasure you until it was all you could do to keep your eyes open. Then, he stroked your hair while assuring you he was not leaving, which did not calm your panic when he got out of bed. But he soon returned, carrying a carafe of water and a damp towel. He murmured praises in your ear as he cleaned you and then himself, and commanded that you drink at least one full glass of water before you fell asleep.

You obeyed and afterwards fell asleep tucked into his chest. The next morning, you did not remember your last words to your husband before you drifted off, but he certainly did.

“I’m sorry I can’t say I love you,” you’d whispered, only half-awake, “but if you give me some time, I’m sure I can.”

Those words echoed through his mind as he slept, dreaming of a life where he would not have to walk halfway across the castle to reach his separate rooms. Where he could sleep like this, with his arms around you, every night. Where when he told you he loved you, you would respond in kind.

A dream he hoped he could live very soon. But until then, he would give you all the time you needed.

Waking from that dream was nearly a nightmare in itself, until he looked over and saw you still in his arms, still fast asleep. Your hair was a mess, and your nose was scrunched as you dreamed, but he loved every bit of it. He told you as much when you finally awoke.

When you insisted on following him to his rooms so you could attend the morning meal together, he did not protest. He loved watching you look around each chamber, your mind racing as you imagined how you would decorate the blank walls. He loved that, too.

What he did not love was that when you walked into the dining room, hand in hand, Aegon instantly perked up in his chair. His eyes darted between you and Aemond with dizzying speed before he raised his brows and mouthed, “Did she come?”

Aemond only glared at him, but you smiled and nodded, then held up seven fingers.

Begrudgingly, he loved that, too.

[fxtalitygod]

VIII. ~Survival~

Summary: You were determined to survive longer than anyone, even if you were set to marry him.

Genre: Historical AU, angst, mature, suggestive, arranged-marriage

Warnings: Dark themes, gore, graphic imagery, theme/depictions of horror, swearing/language, suggestive, pet names (Little Flower used 5-6x) implied harsh parenting {on Sukuna's end), mentions of adult murder, implications of impregnating, implied Stockholm Syndrome, images/depictions of dead bodies (both human and animal), child death/murder, character death(s), slight misogynistic themes (if you squint), NOT PROOFREAD YET (sorry ;-;)

Word Count: 6.5k

A/N: For starters, I want to clarify that I am choosing to purposely not mention the names of the twins. Although this makes it difficult on my end, I wanted you, the reader, to decide on the names of your choosing while reading.

P.S. This is the longest chapter I have written. Sorry it took so long but I hope it proves well and worth the wait. (╥﹏╥)

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules• • Pt.I • Pt. II • Pt. III • Pt. IV • Pt. V • Pt. VI • Pt.VII • Pt. VIII • Pt. IX

You could see the fire, smell the blood, and hear their screams as they begged for mercy. They cried out for their children and loved ones whose bodies were now burning in the roaring flames, reduced to cinders and ashes. Those who threatened to charge were killed before they could make contact, their body contorting in ways the human form was incapable of, causing cries of pure agony as they were left to bleed out in their mangled state– they were left to suffer in their pain as the life slowly drained out of them. If a suffering soul was fortunate, the fire would catch them aflame and kill them faster, or debris would land in a fatal spot or crush them whole to end their misery.

Viewing the demolished structures and flaming bodies, both dead and alive, was a petrifying view– yet you felt nothing. Your breath was methodical, your expression blank, your body unmoving. Pity and remorse were thrown out the window– fear and anguish had long vanished; however, anger and resentment lingered like a tiny flickering flame that continued to grow with each crumble and cry that could be heard.

Although your exterior appearance seemed calm and collected, your heartbeat said otherwise as it accelerated, pounding against your chest so hard you could eventually drown out the hollars of distress with its rapid thumping.

“Mama, look!” Two voices sounded.

Your breath hitched as the familiar calls rang through your head. The pounding in your chest quickened and strengthened when the footsteps got closer. Hearing their giggles and whispers caused your form to tense– not having the strength to say or do anything. How would you explain your current position? How would you tell them tha-

“Mama, are you alright?”

You snapped out of your daydream to see you were in front of the stream, taking care of your personal tasks, this chore being the cleansing of garments. The query of when you arrived there was unknown, but you would assume it had been for way longer than you should have resided in that area. The dreams you would endure during the solace of night, despite those nights being anything but comforting, had begun bleeding into the day and becoming more prevalent and gruesome. It was becoming quite the distraction.

"Mama?"

Before you could allow your thoughts to consume you, you focused your attention on your son and daughter, who were awaiting your reply with innocent eyes. Yeah, their virtue never ceased to amaze you. They were too good for this world– their empathy brought light to your soul that you believed had burnt out long ago– pride and joy.

You looked at your twins with an awaiting gaze as you watched their expressions turn into excitement at the realization they had caught your attention. You blinked once before being met with a piece of parchment littered with ink. It did not take long to realize that the twins had made you something in their short time away. Blinking up at the two, you gave them a fond grin before looking back down at the material. Upon viewing the parchment, you saw an image of what you assumed to be an image of a bird, and next to the picture was a small note.

" To show gratitude to our dearest mother," you read aloud before holding the small gift to your chest, "Thank you, my loves, it is lovely."

The joy on their faces from the small compliment warmed your heart, referring to your previous statement of them being too good for this world. There were moments when you could not believe that the twins were a product of you and Sukuna– that was a reoccurring thought you had often. They were, without doubt, your most significant and last blessing as things around the temple had not been going as smoothly as they once had been the first few years you resided in it, and it was clearly starting to take a toll on everybody, including you.

"Mama, guess what we learned today?" Your son exclaimed excitedly, causing you to jump a little, not expecting the sudden outburst of enthusiasm.

"Was it penmanship because the both of you are getting better. Have you been practicing like I have told you to?" You joked, poking at their bellies, causing them to giggle.

"No, Mama, Father taught us about Jujutsu!" your daughter shouted enthusiastically.

"Hey, I wanted to tell her," the boy pouted.

"Sorry," your little girl apologized as she turned to look at her brother with an apologetic look.

The sibling tried to look upset, not wanting to give in quite yet, but when he turned around to look at his sister's guilty expression, he launched to hug her. If you had said it twice, you were to state it a third time– the world did not deserve this pair– you could not stress that enough.

"Did he now?" you breathed, your anxiety slowly creeping to the back of your neck like it did so often.

You were aware of the agreement you made with Sukuna all those years ago, and as of things so far, you both were holding up to your ends of the deal. The twins continued to be educated under your supervision and occasionally your attendant. Your little girl and boy were now at the ripe age of six, at which they would begin manifesting their cursed energy, so they were now taking lessons under their father's supervision– that notion made you apprehensive of your deal.

As you previously mentioned, things were not going as smoothly as they once were. Your village has become slightly non-compliant recently. The traditional wedding ceremonies had stopped a little over a year ago as families started refusing to hand over their kin to Sukuna. Despite the disrespect, Sukuna had no care as he had plenty of women to satisfy him; however, to say that he was taking the rebellion lightly would be a complete lie. Over the last few years, more guards were posted for precautionary reasons. Nothing major had happened yet, only the occasional distant and muffled voices chanting in protest.

With such circumstances, emotions were running high, and the crowd only seemed to get bigger as the days passed. You could admit that some days were worse than others, but it did not change the fact that these events could cause a catastrophic resolution at the hands of your husband. Viewing the situation, there was no question that Sukuna would be more occupied than usual; however, it was not amid meetings or trivial tasks but with his children instead.

Sukuna could hardly be viewed as a legitimate father but rather a mentor– a cruel one based on the round, tear-stained cheeks that would walk into the garden after they had spent their designated time with their dad. The only children who seemed the slightest bit content with their learnings were your son and daughter. Your twins have not been training for long, but they had outlasted most other kids regarding their spirits breaking. The first day your little boy and girl had left to meet with Sukuna, you could not help but feel nervous; however, when they came back, they were all giggles and smiles as they told you of their time with the man they call father. To say you were shocked was an understatement, but despite that astonishment, you were simply glad they left a good impression and walked out unscathed, their spirits still intact.

"So, have your studies with your father come to fruition yet?" You asked, not thinking of your wording as the question effortlessly slipped from your tongue.

"Come to fruition?" your son repeated, looking at his sister to see if she understood the meaning of your words.

Despite your children being clever, they were still young and naive, and that naivety could not help but make you laugh gently as you watched them whisper to each other as they tried to decipher the saying. They paused in their little hushed conversation at your breathy giggle, flustered as they looked at you, hoping you would grant them the knowledge they wanted.

"Mama, stop laughing. What does it mean?" the two whined in sync as they looked at you with awaiting eyes.

"Alright," you managed to say between your little fits of giggles, "It means to succeed in the progression of a goal. In this case, did you reach the intended goal of your lessons today?"

Your twins thought over your words for a minute before a look of realization washed over their faces. The two looked at one another to make sure the other understood, finding they were both on the same page before turning to your now-awaiting gaze. Smiles were once again plastered to their expressions of proudness.

"Not exactly," your daughter stated.

"What do you mean, 'not exactly'?" you questioned with a raised brow as you looked for an answer.

"Well...we do not have cursed energy yet, but Father said it was okay because we will..." Your son trailed off before looking at his sister for assistance, trying to remember the exact words Sukuna had used.

"Manifest!" your daughter shouted in revelation after a moment of thought.

"Oh yes, manifest! He said it was okay because 'we will manifest our cursed energy soon enough,'" your son finished, ignoring the distant whispers and tiny gasps that had suddenly emerged from the surrounding women and children.

"And you both will, I am sure of that– my intuition is never wrong," a deep voice resonated behind the twins.

You froze as you looked up to see Sukuna looking down at you, a proud grin on his face as he let the words settle. Your smile had long disappeared, your lips forming into a tight line as you met his gaze. His presence was not what had upset you as you had grown familiar with his company and unexpected visits, but rather the fact that you knew he was right.

"Father!" the twins shouted, bowing before going in to hug his legs, looking up at him with their innocent doe-like eyes that shone the color of your own hues, little flecks of what seemed to be crimson could also be seen if the light hit them just right.

Your heart stopped for a second as you watched your four-armed companion freeze on the spot at the sudden attention. Although you knew Sukuna could not lay a hand upon his children due to the contents of the pact you had made with him, it did not eliminate the uneasiness you had, worried of the thought he would grow to distaste them. The curse-user was not a man of tenderness nor liked to be presented with such fondness, especially from his offspring. There was no room for weaklings in his realm, in hid brigade of suitable heirs.

You sit there, waiting for his reaction, chewing on your lip to the point it draws a small amount of blood. The man stood stiff, looking down at the two smaller beings that clung to his legs in a warm greeting before moving to bend down, causing your heart to spike in rhythm. The questions flooded your brain once more like they often did when it involved your significant other's actions. Sukuna took a set of his arms, placing one on each twin's back before meeting their eye level.

"Did I ever indulge either of you with the story of how I found out about your mother's conceiving of the both of you?" Sukuna asked, an arched brow with a devious smile as he switched eye contact from one twin to the other.

"No," your son replied honestly, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.

With that short answer, Sukuna looked at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes before redirecting his focus on his kids once more.

"I knew that your mother would one day bear the fruit of her fertility, but there was one particular evening where I could sense an odd presence. I immediately called upon your mother, and when I was met with her physique, I could tell she was with child. It would have been unnoticeable, but my perception is unlike the average man. Looking at your mother, I could see her stomach was softer and slightly rounder, her ankles somewhat swollen, and her breasts enlarged."

You held back the bile rising in your throat as your husband explained his side of the story you knew all too well, remembering the exact events that led up to that day. His vulgar description of the event sickened you to the core.

"Your mother was unaware of her condition, but I was. The moment I felt her stomach, I could feel the presence of not one but two essences in her womb. I remember the look on her face when I told her– pure shock."

Sukuna's words offended you because pure shock was an understatement. You were undeniably mortified that day, but you would never admit that to your children. For their happiness's sake, you were willing to push the bitter memories of your pregnancy aside. They did not need to know your previous disdain for them– you had not even met them yet. What they did not know could not hurt them.

"How could you sense both of our essences?" Your daughter questioned, tilting her head as Sukuna focused his attention on her.

"Always the curious one, aren't you?" Sukuna noted, a teasing grin forming on his face.

"Mama says it is always best to stay curious because you will never learn anything new if you are too stubborn or scared to keep asking questions."

"Did she now?" Sukuna's grin grew wider as he drew his attention back to you, "And what do you believe that is a lesson of?"

"Fearlessness?" your daughter answered hesitantly.

"Close, but not quite," Sukuna started, "She is teaching you confidence."

"Is that not the same thing, Father?" your daughter questioned again.

"Not exactly, my child," The curse-user paused, looking at you for a fleeting moment before continuing, "being fearless is alright in certain circumstances– something as frivolous as a mouse is something to lack fear of, but there are certain things you should fear. Fear, my child, is what keeps you alive; however, it can be crippling at times. It is the confidence to overcome those fears that lets you survive."

"Why have you come here, Sukuna?" you suddenly asked, becoming tired and uncomfortable with his lingering presence. You knew that the man had not come for idle conversation and to share invasive stories nor explain your teachings.

Had your twins been any older, they would have caught onto your passive aggression as you addressed their father, staring at him blankly as he drew his attention to you. You were aware of the line you were crossing, aware of the hostility you were presenting in the presence of your children, despite the obliviousness of it, but with high tension in the temple and his sudden visit, you felt you had every right to feel uneased. Sukuna's gaze turned from teasing mischief into a grave look.

"Well, Y/n, I wish not to sully our bonding with grave matters," the man spoke, returning your passive-aggressive tone, "we'll speak of it later."

"So why did you come, father?" Your boy asked, looking up at the tall man.

"Must I have a reason to visit my kin?" Sukuna teased.

"Well, we do not see you much outside of lessons," your daughter jumped in with her own comment.

"Observant as well, huh?" Sukuna huffed, pausing for a moment before speaking up once more, "I was wondering if you both would accompany me on a hunt?"

That question caused their little orbs to light up, their little heads turning to you, silently begging for your approval. Looking at their pleading eyes, you could not say no, giving a nod of approval. If they were cheerful before, they were exhilarated now. These kids were to be the death of you if a simple pair of puppy dog eyes could make you cave like this, and you were okay with that.

"Can Mama come too?

Your blood ran cold at the mention of your name. There was no particular reason to be troubled, but at this point, it was a habit for these tense feelings to rise whenever your name was mentioned. So, as you look at your supposed significant other, you could feel yourself about to explain how you had other activities to attend to.

"I do not see why not."

Now, that was unexpected.

The words you were going to speak paused in your throat, swallowing them down when your little boy and girl rushed up to you after hearing Sukuna's approval, hugging you as they tugged on your hands to stand. What was he playing at? Despite the inquiry of his intentions, you had to push it aside as you saw the thrilled look on your children's faces–they most likely wanted to show off what they had learned while spending time with their father. They always returned with smiles of pride after spending time with their dad. You would give up your life to see them smile at you like that for as long as you lived, so you followed them as they walked beside Sukuna despite your own apprehension.

Time slowly passed as you trekked quietly through the nearby woods, watching Sukuna's movement as he led the three of you through the brush, pausing when something caught his eye. It took only a moment for a bow to appear in his hand, but when you had expected him to use it, he motioned over to your son, giving the child the weapon. Every motherly instinct told you to confiscate the bow, but quickly reminded yourself of your pact both in regards that Sukuna was bound to protect your children from harm and that you had accepted he could use any training methods he deemed necessary– this being one of them.

Sukuna was crouched the lowest he could get, arms hovering over your boy's form, guiding his son while speaking in a low voice as the two focused on the prey ahead. Looking into the small clearing, you could see a few grazing rabbits, clueless and defenseless to the threat before them, nibbling on the dewy grass. The bow's snap and the sight of an impaled rabbit caused you to return from your light daze, turning over to see your son smiling in excitement.

"Did you see that, Mama? I did it!" the boy beamed, maintaining a hushed voice.

You gave your son a warm smile, nodding in reassurance before watching your son switch places with your daughter. The rabbits that previously remained in the clearing had run off, but one straggler emerged from bushes, unaware of what had occurred, clueless about its impaled companion. In a mere few moments, the creature suffered the same fate as the previous one, bringing joy to your little girl. She turned to you with the same smile as her brother's– it frightened you.

You had no doubt that you loved your children for who they were. You loved their innocence, passion, and joyful nature, but a realization had dawned upon you in these moments– one that made your heart drop to your stomach.

"Mama, you try!" your daughter called out, grabbing your hand as she led you toward a better spot to shoot from, that spot closer to Sukuna.

Their reason for upbringing would be to take their father's place, to be his heir, and Sukuna was not giving that role to a charitable and naive son or daughter. Things seemed pleasant for now, and your children might keep their nature through adulthood, but one thing was for sure. Whether they stayed that way or not, they would feel justified in their actions– believe what they were doing was good because that is what their father was teaching them, and you were enabling it.

"Darling, I'm not sure that it would be wise for me-"

"I think it is a marvelous idea," Sukuna interrupted, standing from his crouched position and grabbing your waist.

You felt the man's hands slither up your body, messing with the material of your clothing before touching your flesh. Your skin burned unpleasantly as his hands settled, a faux attempt to adjust your form when you were capable; however, with your twins present, you would not dare cause a stir. Looking at the clearing, there was nothing seemingly there as all the critters that previously inhabited it ran off.

"There's nothing for me to target, so maybe we should end this," you suggested, trying to excuse yourself from this activity, keeping a low tone.

"If nothing is there, why do you whisper, Little Flower?" Sukuna responded in a hushed voice, feeling his smirk form as his face rested against your cheek.

Before you could respond, the sound of fluttering was heard. Without thought, you lifted the bow's angle, shooting the arrow into the air– a thud sounded shortly after as whatever you had shot hit the ground. Looking down, you could see a bird skewered with an arrow, blood pooling from its limp body and staining the grass surrounding it.

"Mama, you did it!" the twins exclaimed, thrilled you had participated.

Their sounds of excitement were drowned out by the ringing of your ears as your gaze lingered on the deceased animal. What had you done? Yes, you had viewed death without so much as a flinch, but you were not the one with blood on your hands. You were unaware you could perform such an action– you had never held a weapon before, only a mere kitchen knife.

It disturbed you.

How did you kill the helpless creature so instinctively? So effortlessly? The worst part is...

It felt good.

The ringing eventually subsided as the bow settled to your side, turning your head toward the two-faced man you called 'husband' and handed it to him. Thankfully, Sukuna took the item with no smug remark or wicked grin, giving you one of his infamous blank looks before moving his gaze toward the kids, motioning for them in the direction of the temple, settling one of his hands at the small of your back as you all started the walk back.

Making the hike back, you settled on your earlier realization regarding your children. You would love them until the end of time, and you had no doubt about that; whether they were inherently good or bad– you would love them. But now, as you continue to think, all you can think about is the future. Where would you and your twins be standing in the years to come? What kind of life would you three indulge in if you were all to live? How many bodies would have to pile under your feet before you were guaranteed genuine safety for you and them?

For the years under the same roof as Sukuna, you had been focusing on your mother's words, the promise you had made to her.

"I promise I will survive– longer than anyone."

Your life had been summed up by that promise. So far, you have kept faithful to it because you have been surviving. From your wedding day to your pregnancy, to the many inspections you attended, all up until now, as you approached the temple, you have been surviving. You played all the right cards to get you here and made all the right sacrifices to keep your children alive– what more could you ask for? You were alive and breathing along with your children, and that is all that truly mattered, right?

No.

You may have been playing this game of survival and have been successful thus far, but there was one thing you had failed to do...

Live, you had failed to truly live.

You have played your part in your husband's sick game. You married him, gave him your purity, gave him children, and now you were done. You were more than aware of the pact you had made with your husband, but almost every contract had a loophole whether it could be seen or not.

"We are relocating."

Your heart rate accelerated as Sukuna bent down to whisper those words into your ear, the words taking a moment to register. Was it out of fear? Anger? Possibly both? No. It was excitement. You had given your word that you would never leave the temple unless it was under Sukuna's supervision and say so. Unless he accompanied you outside those gates, you would remain here; however, you had never given your word to stay by his side.

You had given your word to stay at the temple.

The curse-user had just given your confirmation of freedom without being aware he was doing so.

"May I ask why?" you dug, trying to keep your composure to not seem suspicious, as if he could tell what you were thinking if you had shown the slightest emotion.

"I have simply grown bored of this place, plus I have got what I needed from these people, and they all stand right here before me," Sukuna explained, the last part of his statement being clear that he was referring to you and the twins.

"Where would that leave my village?"

Now, that was a genuine question. You were not as concerned for your village but rather your family instead. The four-armed beast of a man was not known for leaving a town so quietly– you had heard plenty of notorious stories from survivors to prove that.

"What of it?"

"Will it remain in one piece, or will it be returned to the dirt?"

"That entirely depends on them, Little Flower."

The answer was vague– it was neither a confirmation nor a denial, but you could understand the meaning behind his words. For the sake of your family, you hoped that the village elders would not perform anything stupid. You hoped they could shove their egos aside and let Sukuna leave the town with what minimal disturbance he was willing to make. Everything you have worked so hard to achieve would be ruined without their cooperation.

Approaching the temple, you could not help but feel the delight swell in your chest. After years of this torment, this unjustified punishment, you are finally going to be free. You have survived, and now you will live. The journey has been difficult, but now you will achieve the tranquility and normalcy you deserve. Your children will have the chance to live a standard and carefree life, unlike the competitive and tiring one they would achieve with their father.

It was finally over.

Arriving at the temple did not feel as bitter this time, watching your children running to your attendant as she greeted you all, giving a respectful bow before taking off with the children, most likely heading off to eat. It was quiet as you stood in the garden; everyone else had gone to fill their appetite– it was just you and Sukuna.

"What has you smiling so brightly, Little Flower."

You had not noticed it, but you had plastered a broad, foolish grin onto your face. Usually, your partner catching this would have brought you anxiety as you thought of the right words, but you did not feel that way– quite the opposite. You were proud that he had noticed, allowing your smile to grow wider.

"I feel like a burden has been lifted off my shoulders, and I cannot wait to leave this place."

"I am glad I could bring such relieving news and bring a smile to your face," Sukuna responded, smiling down at you before taking your chin between his fingers and bending down, "Once you put the children to sleep, come seek me out as we have much more to discuss."

You could only smile stupidly, nodding and allowing Sukuna to kiss you before heading to your children. You did not care what the two-faced monster had to share with you, but you would indulge him because this would be the last time you would ever have to.

You were free.

"Oh, hello, Y/n-sama! We were just finishing our meals. Should I fix you something as well?" your attendant offered, keeping a light-hearted tone.

The young woman had grown more confident with you over the years. The two of you had grown quite close after the birth of your children– she was the only person you full-heartedly trusted with your kids. Maybe you would take her with you in your escape; she was far too good to serve ungrateful and bitter women.

"No, thank you, I am not that hungry; however, I have grown rather tired, meaning it is time for bed."

"Awwwwww," you twins whined in unison, looking at your attendant with puppy dog eyes, hoping she could convince you, only to receive a shake of her head.

The twins stood begrudgingly, approaching your awaiting stance, giving you the same desperate eyes. You gave your own silent response as you offered a warm smile and a quick shake of your head before having them follow you down the halls. In any other scenario, you would have in, but things were different now. Your children need to be well-rested for the upcoming events. You were going to give them the life they deserved.

Arriving at their sleep quarters, you slid the door open, allowing the twins in first before following. Before closing the door, you took a peek out into the hallway to make sure no one was approaching. Once you deduced nobody was coming, you slowly and quietly slid the door shut, quick to approach your kids' bedside.

"Mama, do we have to go to bed?" your daughter whined.

"Yeah, do we really have to?" your son followed.

You could not help but lightly chuckle at their resistance to sleep. Your heart filled with warmth as you remembered sharing a similar moment with your mother. There were many occasions they reminded you of yourself, and you could not wait to see more of those similarities manifest when you leave this temple. You could not wait to give them a regular and well-deserved life.

"Yes, you both have to rest. You two need to preserve your energy for the days to come."

That statement piqued their interest, their faces perking up with intrigue.

"What is to come, Mama?" the twins sounded in unison like they did so often in these moments. Sometimes, it was almost as if they shared the same mind.

"Well, soon enough, you will get to meet your grandparents," you whispered, "you cousins, aunts, and uncles, all from Mama's side of the family."

"Really?!" the two shouted, settling down when you gestured for them to lower their voices.

"Yes, but do not tell your father, it is..." you trailed, picking your words carefully, "a surprise visit just for the three of us, and I do not want him to feel left out."

There was no doubt that you despised Sukuna in every sense of the word, but you did not wish for your children to hate him. Believe it or not, you wanted your twins to paint a good picture of their father, and whether that picture remained clean was up to Sukuna himself– you would not tarnish his name for him.

"Okay, Mama, we promise we will not tell." your son spoke for the two of them, his sibling nodding in turn as she motioned to seal her lips.

You smiled, whispering a small thank you before kissing the top of their foreheads and letting them rest. You stood quietly, blowing out the candles illuminating the room before leaving. Once you stepped foot into the hallway, you were startled to see a guard, a familiar one at that, though he had clearly aged with time.

"Y/n-sama, I have been instructed to take you to your sleeping chambers," the male spoke before swiftly turning on his heel to lead you to your room.

The man's voice was cold and almost distant as he spoke to you, but his voice was familiar. You were acquainted with most of the staff within the temple, but you could not remember where you had met him in particular, though he seemed familiar and significant. Your face contorted as your mind pondered, trying to recognize his face in your personal timeline, but nothing came to mind.

"Your wedding night," the guard spoke suddenly, noticing your expression of thought, "I held and guarded the door during your wedding night."

You thought back to your wedding day, and it suddenly hit you. The guard was the same one Sukuna had forced to watch the consummation of your marriage. You quickly grew flustered at the memory, clearing your throat before speaking.

"I recall now," you responded, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Are you happy, Y/n-sama?" another unshakable tone as he questioned you.

Why was he asking this?

"Yes, I'm happy."

You did not know what this man was playing at, but you did not want to fall into any traps, so you gave the preferred answer when this question was presented to you on many occasions.

"Even though you have suffered all these years, bearing and raising his offspring?"

"Excuse me?" you grimaced at the guard's words.

"Nothing, I am sorry, I have overstepped my boundaries. I will leave you now," the man uttered, leaving you at the doorway to your sleeping quarters.

You narrowed your eyes, staring as the male's figure grew smaller in the distance. What did he gain from that interaction? No matter– it was no longer your problem to deal with. Collecting yourself, you entered the room and immediately faced Sukuna.

"Come and close the door. We must speak of these urgent matters in private," Sukuna muttered as he blankly stared at the wall in front of him.

You did not question the man and slid the door closed, approaching him as he turned to you. Before you could speak, Sukuna placed a pair of hands on your shoulders, looking into your eyes. His gaze held no emotion you could directly name, but you could sense an urgency in his tone as he spoke to you.

"We leave tonight. The others have been informed and are gathering their belongings– I advise you to do the same."

"What?! Now?! Sukuna, what is going on that you are not telling anyone?" you urged, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Now is no time to be questioning me, Y/n. Hurry, we are leaving shortly."

"No."

The word slipped out without thought. You did not care when you left because your plans would not change, but your partner was acting strangely, and you could not help but be curious as to why. The curiosity is what led you to stand there motionless as your husband stared you down.

"Stubborn as always, I see," the curse-user muttered, "Fine, you want to know, huh? We made a pact, and I'm upholding the bargain. You told me to protect those children, right? Well, for their interest, we are leaving, so be grateful."

You stood there silently, looking into Sukana's unwavering gaze.

"What is going on?" you repeated the question.

"Your village plans to lay siege, and we are leaving to not get caught in the firing radius."

That explained the tensity and whispers among the temple. That explained the extra protection. Everything now made sense and you could not help the feeling of something rising up your throat.

Laughter.

You laughed uncontrollably, trying to cover your mouth to muffle the outburst, but to no avail. Nothing about the situation was logically funny, but you could not control yourself.

"After years of torment, they only now decide to lay siege?" you cackled, "And the best part is that Ryomen Sukuna is fleeing with his tail between his legs."

You should have seen what was to come next when you made that last statement, feeling your hair being tugged to look up at the man you had insulted. Your laugh quickly subsided, swallowing the lump in your throat as you stared into his orbs. You had crossed a line this time, but for once, you were not scared of the intimidation; however, what had shocked you was Sukuna smashing his lips against yours.

"I am the most feared man in Japan– I have no reason to be scared, at least for myself. I am doing this for us and our creation because I love you, Little Flower."

"You do not love me. You love what I can do for you, Sukuna."

"I see where our children have gotten their observance." Sukuna joked, "But you are not entirely wrong. However, that does not change the fact we are leaving right here and now so collec-"

"AHHHHHHHHHHH"

The deformed man paused mid-sentence at the high-pitched scream, storming out of the room to see the commotion. You wasted no time in following him, walking down the hall before being met with the stench of blood. Had one of the pregnant wives gone into labor? Was someone injured? Or was...

Before you could finish that last thought, you were met with the sight of a lifeless body surrounded by its own red fluid. It was disturbingly familiar, and that was because it was the body of the guard that had escorted you earlier. You were shocked at his mangled state, his face just barely beyond recognition, but before you could allow the shock to settle in, another sound of screams was heard in the opposite direction.

Without thought, you bolted in the direction the screams came from. You flew past those blank walls faster than you knew you were capable of before landing at the sight of another body surrounded by women. It was your attendant, her face frozen in fear, her body almost in the same state as the previous one. This death hit you harder than the earlier one as you covered your mouth, keeping the bile from rising up your throat.

Despite the grief and sickness you were feeling, you could only think of one thing, and that was your twins. You lingered for a second longer before running to your twin's bedroom. You had not noticed, but Sukuna trailed behind you closely as you sprinted through the temple. Your breath was running ragged, but you would be damned if you were to leave your twins behind in this gruesome mess.

You made it to the door, sliding it open and rushing in, your eyes scanning the room for your twins, but they were nowhere to be seen. Your heart hammered against her chest as you began to panic, turning to Sukuna to see that his face was once again blank as he looked into the room from the doorway. Why did he have that look on his face? It did not matter– you had to search for your children. You turned to look back into the interior room, looking up from the bedrolls to be met with the wall, and heard the sound of a scream once again, your heart dropping.

You had found your twins hanging from the wall, a message written above them that was written in their own blood.

"Bring back our daughter."

Taglist:

@littlemochi @mistalli @youngbeansprout @bbylime @bangtan-forever1479 @idktbhloley @izayas-rings @o3o-aya @pyschopotatomeme @persephonehemingway @otomaniac @meforpr3sident @alurafairy @nezuscribe @my-simp-land @zukuphilia @niya729 @spiritofstatic @bbittersw33t @kashasenpai @decaysan @honeybaegle @ygslvr @outrofenty @gojosluts7789@all4koo@hyperfixationsporfavor

[ranhaitanisgf]

hi! could i request headcanons or oneshot (either is okay) for bonten timeline sanzu haruchiyo with an excitable, extroverted reader? thank you so much, and no worries if not! (+ also your theme still says rqs are closed, but i saw you posted them being open two hrs ago :3)

pay attention to me!!

synopsis: how would bonten haruchiyo act w/ an excited & extroverted s/o?

☆ a/n ˎˊ˗ idk if yall can tell but ive never written for mr haru lawl ... also !! i added a little mini oneshot cause i couldn't help myself :3 thank you so much for requesting !! this was so cute to write !! i hope everyone enjoysss xoxo

☆ characters ˎˊ˗ sanzu (akashi) haurchiyo x g/n!reader

☆ wc ˎˊ˗ 2.7k+

masterlist

❥ sanzu thinks you’re annoying at first. 

❥ he doesn’t notice at all when you first move into his apartment building; he doesn’t take much care in noticing small things like that if it didn’t relate to bonten. his work and mikey were the only important things to him, so when he hears excited squealing seeping through his walls one day, he thinks that his neighbor has a kid, (which quite frankly annoyed him, but he decided he didn’t care enough to do anything about it). 

❥ there was no estimated time as to when he would get home--ranging anywhere from 6pm to 4am--so it takes at least a month or two for him to meet you officially. coincidentally, he had been going out to grab a drink from the convenience store when you were excitedly jumping around outside your door, a delivery package in your hands. 

“oh! omg, are you sanzu-san?!” “...hah? who’re you?” “oh my gosh, i’ve been knocking on your door everyday for the past month, but you never seemed to be home! i never got to introduce myself to you! i’m (l/n) (y/n)! i moved in not that long ago, so i wanted to get to know my neighbors!”  “‘kay. bye.” 

❥ the only thing he wants to do is get away from you; he doesn’t want to be bothered with civilians, much less someone as annoying as you seemed to be. seriously, why were you talking so loud?!

❥ much to his displeasure, you followed him all the way to the convenience store, talking his ear off about the most meaningless things he’s ever heard of in his life, (how does somebody talking about nothing for so long?!) as he purchases his drinks and walks back to the apartment building. it takes everything in him not to snap at you; if he did, he would probably wake up all the neighbors from raising his voice, which wouldn’t be ideal since this was already his fifth apartment in the last six months. 

❥ he’s unsure how you possibly couldn’t get a hint that he didn’t want to be bothered, especially after he only said a maximum of ten words to you in the whole thirty minutes you were following him around, (are you really that clueless? is this what loneliness does to people?). it does take him by surprise that you aren’t scared of him though; you’d shown absolutely no sign of apprehension despite the scars around his mouth, which he supposes shows a bit of good character from you. not that he really cares. 

❥ he’s more than happy to shut the door on your face when he gets back to his apartment, finally indulging in the peace and quiet of his apartment, (he doesn’t think he’s ever been so happy to hear nothing). right when he’s opening his bottle of sake, he hears squealing through the walls. when you start monologuing about whatever you’d received in the mail, he just decides to quit and go to bed. 

❥ sanzu isn’t sure how, but you have somehow made it your routine to follow him places whenever you ran into him. he also isn’t sure why he continuously allows you to tag along with him, but as long as it doesn’t affect his work, he doesn’t really care. 

❥ you’re always talking about something; the weather, your coworker’s strange behavior the other day, or the stray cat you saw in the alleyway that ran away. there are times when he tunes out your talking and uses it as white noise, but you never seemed to get upset at the fact that he visibly is zoning out. 

❥ after a while, he gets used to your constant presence around him, so much so that he finds it strange to not hear your excited yammering while he’s at work, (although he supposes he wouldn’t want to have that constantly in his ear while he’s doing ‘business’ with someone). 

❥ the one thing that gets the attention of the rest of the bonten executives is when he suddenly stops going to the clubs, leaving whatever work he had there for during the day when it was barren. it was such a drastic change in behavior; sure, sanzu was never the type to be obsessed with the scantily dressed girls in the club, but he was known for taking some home every once in a while. at the very least, he was known for getting various types of substances from sketchy dealers who frequently attended. what’s even stranger to everyone is the fact that he slowly starts to engage in less substances, (though he still does every once in a while) which is what rings the alarm bells. 

“oi, sanzu.” “what do you want, ran? i’m fuckin’ busy.”  “well, it can wait. the fuck’s been up with you lately? you’ve been acting weird as shit.” “so?”  “so, what the hell’s been up with you?” “none of your goddamn business, that’s what.”  “woahh, easy there, man. seriously, somethin’ bothering you?”  “i said it’s nothing, so drop it.”

❥ by the time he realizes what he’s been doing, it’s too late for him. you and your talkative self have wiggled their way into his heart, setting up camp to stay for a while. he had a glimpse of a thought of it when ran was confronting him, but he immediately pushed it out of his mind because how could that possibly be true? 

❥ it can’t be true, even if he unwillingly likes to think about it now. he can’t let himself think about it; you were one of the most strange yet innocent and pure people he’s ever met, so how could he willingly taint you with someone like himself? no, he wouldn’t let it happen.

❥ and just like that, everything seems to be back to normal for him. he goes to the club even more than he did before, and the amount of substances he uses seems to increase exponentially by the week. he begins to sleep on the couch in his dingy office instead of going home so that he doesn’t run into you, only going home for the bare essentials every couple days, (and even then, he leaves after just a few minutes). 

❥ it’s just his luck that he gets out of his car the moment you turn the corner onto the apartment building’s block, seeing him in plain sight as he freezes for a moment. and then he unfreezes because 1.) why is he of all people scared to run into you? he’s a bonten executive, he’s killed people before, so why was his heart beating so fast right now? and 2.) he needs to get away from there. right now. 

˗ˏˋ𖤐ˎˊ˗

“hey!! not so fast, haruchiyo!!” you shout, your steps hastening as you try to catch up with him. sanzu can hear your steps behind him, but his long legs give him the advantage as he quickly ducks into the apartment building, smashing the elevator button and tapping his foot as it decides to be as slow as it possibly can be. 

he lets out a ‘tsk!’ sound when he notices you enter the building, promptly looking away from you and looking cooly at the blinker indicating what level the elevator was on, (can this thing move faster?!). 

“stop ignoring me!! where have you been?!” you questioned, your voice a mix of worry and anger. “i’ve been knocking on your door everyday with no response!! i know you don’t particularly like me, but you’re the only person who doesn’t walk away from me, so could you at least give me a reason that you suddenly started avoiding me?!” 

“...’m not avoiding you.” sanzu doesn’t know what to do right now; he’s never seen you angry like this before. typically, he would care less about the feelings of some random person like you, but for some reason the hurt in your voice makes him unusually unsure of himself. 

you scoffed at his lame excuse, rolling your eyes. 

“look! you’re trying to avoid me right now with elevator! seriously, can you just tell me what i did? i won’t do it again, i swear! just stop avoiding me!” 

“fuck, it’s not you!” sanzu suddenly said, his voice strained. “i’m just busy, okay?! you’re better off being friends with someone else.” 

“but you’re already my friend!! why don’t you want to keep talking to me??” sanzu ignored your words, his gaze staring straight ahead at the doors of the elevator, his stare so intense that you could almost think he was trying to open it telepathically. “hey!! can you just answer the damn question already, haruchiyo?!” 

“why do you need to know so fuckin’ badly?! i just said i’m busy!!” 

“because! i like you!” you yelled, your eyes seeming to get a bit watery. “and i know you don’t like me and that’s fine but i just want to be able to talk to you and see you sometimes, but now you’re always gone and i don’t know when you’re going to come back and it scares me! i just-” 

sanzu cut off your words, promptly stepping in front of you and slipping his hand behind your head, slamming his lips into yours. he’s not even sure himself why he did something stupid like this, especially when the whole reason he was avoiding you was because of his own flaws, but he couldn’t help himself when he heard you being so cute and worried over him, (seriously, how was he supposed to resist something like that?). 

it obviously took you off guard at first, but sanzu made sure you quickly realized what was going on, his mouth desperately pressing against yours. his kiss was rough but passionate, his lips moving quickly against yours as he pulled you closer to him, his other hand sliding around you to rest on the small of your back, (he’s doing it purely out of instinct; he hasn’t really thought about how he had been avoiding you for this very reason). 

a small ding! from the elevator grabs your attention, making you push him off of you as someone comes out from the elevator, glancing at the two of you a bit suspiciously before walking out of the building, leaving both of you in silence. 

“uh…wanna go to the convenience store for snacks…?”

˗ˏˋ𖤐ˎˊ˗

❥ it took a little bit for sanzu to open up to you about anything even a little bit, but once he did, you were able to figure him out pretty quickly, especially when he’d finally decided to be truthful about his actual profession, (bro does not work an office 9-5). due to all of this, it’s easy to tell that sanzu has a lot of issues, but it wasn’t something that you weren’t willing to work through with him!

❥ the two of you are the definition of black cat and golden retriever! you are always excited about everything and are taking him to all the cool and trendy places on dates while he is more quiet, keeping close to your side and watching everything with a careful eye, (especially people he defines as creeps, i.e. people who look at you for more than 0.2 seconds). 

❥ date wise, he is usually following your lead. he doesn’t have the slightest clue about what you think it romantic, so it will usually be you planning outings for the two of you. a lot of times he will complain about being tired and not wanting to go out, but don’t worry, he’s completely lying; he just thinks it’s cute when you whine and pull his arm asking him to come out with you. 

❥ despite the fact that he is not the most romantic guy, he does a lot of romantic things without realizing. he enjoys sending you your favorite flowers when you’re at work or staying at home while he’s at work, sending cute little notes along with them, (well, you think they are pretty cute). 

i think you like these ones. -h be ready by seven. wear something you feel good in. -h sorry i didn’t buy milk. there’s frozen waffles in the freezer. -h

❥ sanzu does a lot of those little things for you too; opening doors for you, pulling chairs out for you, taking things out of your hands when you’re carrying a lot, etc. it doesn’t seem like he’s the type to do things like this, but it’s because he isn’t the type to do it. he only does it for you, and he himself doesn’t even know why he does these things, (he’s head over heels in love with you, but in no universe will he ever actually admit that). 

❥ the most protective over you, and a little possessive too. he doesn’t control everything that you do, but he likes to have a clear-cut plan of everything you do on a normal day so that his mind is put at ease, (also so he can known when something is wrong). he won’t tell you this, but he has someone assigned to keeping an eye on your as you go about your day because he’s extremely paranoid that somebody from an opposing gang will try and come after you. he would prefer if he could by your side himself, but it’s the next best option, (he still sends frequent texts and calls you throughout the day to make sure everything is well). 

❥ the possessive part of him comes out more when he thinks people are hitting on you, (they really are just being nice; he’s just a little bit crazy…he loves you though!!). he doesn’t hesitate to slide his long arms all around you, letting you continue talking while he makes a deadly eye contact with the person, his face twisted in mild disgust as if he were looking down at a cockroach, (he’s mastered this expression somehow). he knows that you enjoy talking with people so he won’t keep you from doing so, but in the process he will make sure that everybody knows you’re his. 

❥ sanzu’s not the most affectionate person there is, but he is affectionate when he wants to be. there are times when he’ll come home and not say a word, just wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his head in the crook of your neck, mumbling something about having a terrible day. really, he just becomes a big baby when he’s like that, laying his lanky limbs all over you and claiming that he’s ‘recharging’. 

❥ it’s hard to label sanzu as an extrovert/introvert, since it can really depend on what mood he’s in and the situation. he’s more of an introvert in public settings with other people, (he doesn’t know how to interact nicely with people he doesn’t know) but when he’s with a majority of people he knows, he turns into more of an extrovert which matches with your energy quite nicely. 

❥ unintentionally, there comes a time when you accidentally get to meet the rest of his coworkers. it happened when they were dropping him back off at home after a night at the club and you’d had to come get him from the car because of how inebriated he was. 

“woah, you’re (y/n), huh?”  “oh, yes! it’s nice to meet you! you all must work with haru, right? please continue to take good care of him! would you like to come inside for a snack or some water?”  “...dude, what the fuck.”  “how the hell did he bag someone like that?!” 

❥ safe to say, they are all extremely shocked, (they never would have thought that someone like sanzu would be dating someone as sweet and talkative as you). the next day when he gets into work, he’s immediately hounded with all types of questions surrounding you and how the two of you started to date. 

“holy shit, is that why you were acting crazy a few months ago?!”  “i wasn’t acting fuckin’ crazy?!” “sanzu, you’re the craziest person here, and you started acting normal!! that was crazy!!” 

❥ after that, he makes sure that his associates never get to see you again, (“hey, bring your pretty lil thing around sometime!”, “i would rather kill you right now.”).

[cluelylikesporn]

depravity.

authors note: this is inspired by a fanfic i saw, ive never written or posted anything LET ALONE SMUT. so im sorry if its badd🙏

gender neutral reader! no use of y/n (if i accidentally use she plz dm me ill edit it!!)

summary: mikes infatuation with abbys teacher.

973 Words

nsfw under the cut

contains: obsession, public sex.

mikes leg bounced up and down with every stroke of the clock on the wall opposite him. jesus, those 10 minutes felt like hours. was it a mistake coming here? they probably already see him as a total hobo, so now he looks like a stalker too. fuck, i should leave. he bit his cheek as thoughts spiraled into delusions. the bell finally rang, and there was only one thing he could do. act. normal.

a wave of kids flood out of the door, it looked like a different class. he didnt spot abby and her friends in the crowd. if abby were there, she would not leave his side. which meant no disturbances, just him and you. alone. he stopped himself before his thoughts became more.. vulgar and knocked on the door. he saw you, leaning over your desk writing something down. seeing you in thought was… jesus. and when you looked up and smiled he thought he was gonna fall to the floor. “mike..! what are you doing here? abbys had art class in a different room if youre here for her-“ you begin before mike cuts you off. “n-no i was just..” fuck. in all that time he spent overthinking and waiting, he couldnt think of a damn excuse? “i was just.. dropping off abbys.. pencil.” real smooth. “a pencil?” you said, with a sly smile. “and where is this.. pencil?” you say, mikes face dropping. “its right here-“ he says, reaching a hand in his hoodie pocket. and pretends to be surpised when there is in fact, no pencil in his pocket. “must've.. left it at home.” he says casually, while on the inside he is screaming. "oh yeah? you conveniently left it at home. why are you really here?" you say, looking at him with crossed arms as his eyes dart from your chest to your face. god, the things he would do.. he swallowed his libido and cleared his throat "i uhm.. wanted to see you. i guess." he said, looking around the classroom instead of meeting their gaze.

"is there a.. reason.. you wanted to see me in the middle of the day that isnt to do with abby?" they said in a suggestive way. its true, hes thought about fucking you at school. with the blinds closed and the door locked. the thought of doing such a disgusting thing at a school just.. did something to him. the thrill of it turned him on so much.

"i.." mike was frozen. he did not know what to say at all. he was completely caught. how was he meant to say he wanted to make them bend over on their own desk. but of course, you knew this.

to an extent, of course. abby had always dropped hints. like about how she'll wake up to strange noises from his room and you name being said. and the face she makes when you two talk during pick up. on top of that, he wasn't very slick. you could see a tightness in his pants whenever you were near. you learned what things you could do to make him hornier without him knowing it was intentional. like if you stretched, or looked up at him his face would get flustered and he'd try to hide it. you played dumb, of course. acting like you had no idea. and god, you never thought he could be so dense.

"don't think i haven't heard what you do in your spare time? fucking your fist shamelessly, pretending its me." you say, grabbing and tugging the end of his tie playfully. mikes face became so red, and his demeanour changed completely. not gonna lie, it was hot seeing him so sensitive. maybe even more so than when he was oblivious to your shameless flirting.

"h-how did you-" mike was cut off by your finger on his lips . "uh uh... make sure the door is locked. then we can talk." the tent in mikes pants was painful at this point, he desperately walked towards the door..

click.

once it was locked, he basically ran back, and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you into a needy kiss. in the time you processed his actions, he had already lifted you onto your desk, and began unbuttoning your shirt. he left a trail of hickeys on your neck as you begin to take his shirt off, and fiddling with his belt. a groan leaves your lips as he grabs your thighs, his nails digging crescent moons into you. you lean back and your eyes graze past the clock on your wall.

11:30.

lunch ends at 11:40.

"mike.. we gotta be quick.." they whimper into his ear as he begins pulling your pants off. he doesn't mind. his desperation and obsession with your body, your face, fuck even the concept of your existence was enough to give him peace. "i dont.. mind, fuck..ive wanted to do this since i first saw you." he said, as he pulls his boxers and slowly eases his cock into your hole. he whimpers and leans his head against yours as he slides into you fully. "f-fuck.!.." you moan, panting and grabbing his hair for support. as he gets used to the pressure inside you, he slowly moves his hips in and out, your legs shake in pure ecstasy, heavily breaths synchronising into one throat, connected by a kiss. a needy, kiss. his hard length squeezed against your plush insides. "o-oh.. mike im gonna.. fuck.." they spoke against his lips, as his climax came too, cum leaking onto the desk.

11:36.

you had 4 minutes to clean this up. as you lay flat on your desk, catching your heaving breath. you get up and pull your clothes up and turn to mike, as he buttons his shirt.

"do you have any wipes..?"

hope you enjoyedd!! feedback is always welcome! reminder that this is my first time lol

song of the day!

[crucifiedfaerie]

Nicotine Stains Pt. 1 ༉₊˚✧

Modern!Kylo x Fem!Reader AU

➴ Summary: Your older brother's best friend seems to have everyone fooled. Everyone but you, that is.

➴ Part Two

➴ Word Count: 5k

➴ Warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, dom!kylo, slowburn, modern!delinquent!kylo au, virgin!reader, drug use, smoking, swearing, kylo breaking traffic laws for some pussy, kylo is a pretentious prick, why is kylo lowkey midwestern emo in this, mutual pining, finn my beloved is mentioned, some angst, fluff, SMUT (protected PiV sex, again reader is a virgin, fingering, a little scratching, slow n gentle sex, softdom!kylo, consent king !!, praise kink, pet names), typos probably

➴ Taglist: ( @enviedear @capitanostella @teapartydreams )

A/N: this may or may not be the most pretentious thing ive ever written but idc. also i want to give a special thank you and shout out to my beautiful mutual liv @enviedear for this idea! she totally helped me flesh out the modern!delinquent!kylo character and this fic would not exist without her. <;3 (also reader is NOT me bc if kylo ren played slipknot for me in his 1969 charger i'd fold immediately)

You sat at your desk, studying for your upcoming midterms and nervously chewing on the inside of your mouth. Mathematics had never been your strong suit and despite only being a month and a half into the semester, your calculus class was stressing you out to no end. The rhythmic ticking of your clock was not helping in the slightest, so you reached for your headphones.

This class is taking years off of my life for sure.

As you looked for a good playlist, you heard your bedroom window open behind you. You yelped, turning in your chair to face your window. Your panic died when you realized it was only Kylo, your older brother's friend.

Once he was finally inside, he shut your window before standing up straight. Kylo was probably the tallest person you knew, almost touching the low ceiling of your bedroom. You couldn't deny how your stomach did flips when you were stood next to him, not to mention he was absolutely fucking beautiful. Kylo's features looked like they were carved from marble and his long, dark hair always fell perfectly around his face. If he weren't so goddamn annoying, you'd like him a lot more.

You groaned. "When are you gonna stop coming in through my window you asshole?"

"It isn't my fault your window is the most accessible and the lock is broken." He smirked.

Your eyes narrowed as you glared at him. "The least you could do is knock, what if I like... had a guy over or something?"

Kylo laughed, walking over to you. He turned you in your desk chair to face your computer and pushed it in, before leaning down over your shoulder to look at your screen. "I think we both know that doesn't happen, kid." He jabbed before making his way to your door.

Your face felt hot, his audacity never failed to make you seethe. And his choice of nickname for you only made you madder. You turned to glare at him. "You fucker- I- you're only like 3 years older than me!??"

You heard him laugh as he walked out of your room and down the hallway.

What made it worse was that it seemed he had everyone in your family fooled. Kylo acted like an absolute angel in front of your mother, and it pissed you off to no end. When he would come over for dinner, he always insisted on helping her with the dishes. He would make conversation with her, crack jokes, go the whole nine yards as if he weren't a college dropout and also doing drugs with her son on the side.

Your mom, being the stereotypical Christian, midwestern mother that she is, would always say things along the lines of "Oh Kylo, you're such a sweet boy. It amazes me that someone like you listens to such angry music." He would just blush and laugh it off.

Kylo drove a black 1969 Dodge Charger R/T that he would pull up to your house in, blasting the loudest possible music. Your dad loved him, and they would always talk cars when they got the chance. The first time you came home and saw your dad helping Kylo change his oil, you thought you had died and gone to hell. You just stared as Kylo smirked at you. That stupid, evil smirk you were so used to seeing.

They can't possibly be serious?? How do they not see how much of a jerk he is?

You however, he was much different with. Any chance Kylo got to annoy you, he would do it. He frequently stood outside your door for god knows how long, just waiting for you to come out so he could scare you. You would jump and yell expletives at him before weakly punching him in the shoulder. He and your brother would just laugh, thinking it was funniest thing in the world.

You sighed, staring at your computer screen. You were over studying for the night. You shut your door, before turning off the light and getting into bed. You tried to sleep, but couldn't. The stress of college was slowly suffocating you but despite that, you couldn't seem to get Kylo out of your head.

Sure, you have had a slight crush on him since you were in middle school, I mean who wouldn't? Look at him. But it didn't mean anything, the feeling was almost certainly not mutual and he was still the biggest asshole you'd ever met.

God I fucking hate him... I mean I don't, but I do.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a light tapping at your door. Your brow furrowed. "Yeah?"

Kylo opened your door slowly, making sure it didn't creak as he closed it behind him. "What are you still doing awake, its 3am. Don't you have classes tomorrow?" He whispered, fumbling with your window.

You rolled your eyes, still staring at the ceiling. "Yeah. What do you care?"

He smirked slightly, swinging one leg out the window before looking at you. "Finn asked me to pick you up tomorrow. What time are you off?"

Fucking fantastic.

"Oh, great." You said sarcastically. "2:30pm. The math and science building."

He ducked through the open window, and stuck his head back inside your room to look at you. "See you at 2:30 then." He smirked, before exiting again and shutting your window, leaving you in the dark.

I am not looking forward to tomorrow.

The following afternoon, you sat in your calculus class zoning out and unable to keep your mind off Kylo. You would never admit it, not even to yourself, but you were definitely daydreaming. You were thinking about how soft his hair always looks and how it might feel to run your fingers through it.

You didn't realize your professor had called on you until he said your name for a second time, repeating his question. You sat up straight before looking down, your eyes scanning your paper. "Oh um- the answer is... x equals three fourths." Your face felt warm.

"That's correct. Lets try to be more focused, though." Your professor sighed, before continuing his lecture. You nodded quickly, looking down at your paper.

As you walked to the parking lot, your palms felt sweaty. You'd been in Kylo's car only a couple times before and it was a long time ago. The recent nagging thoughts you had been having about him didn't quell your nervousness either. You spotted his car quickly, and made your way to the passenger side.

When you opened the door, his music blared so loud, you thought his speakers might blow out. You sat your bag on the floor of his car before getting in and shutting the door.

Kylo was smirking when you turned to glare at him. You reached over and turned the dial down halfway and he laughed.

"Too loud for you princess?" He said sarcastically, leaning over to look behind him as he backed out of the parking lot.

You rolled your eyes and buckled your seatbelt, smoothing out your skirt with your hands. "Too loud for most people. Can I play something?"

Kylo scoffed, that stupid smirk still on his face. "Fuck no, you can't play your music in my car."

"Whatever." You crossed your arms, staring straight ahead.

After a few minutes of silence, Kylo finally spoke. "Have you heard of Slipknot?" He asked, nodding his head towards the radio and tapping his long fingers on the steering wheel to the music.

You scoffed, turning your head to face him. "Yes I've heard of Slipknot, you loser... It's just not really my thing. Kind of scary sounding... its just screaming mostly."

He laughed loudly at your last comment. "Scary? Aw, now that's cute. I bet you listen to Lana Del Rey or some shit like that." Kylo said sarcastically, putting a cigarette between his lips and lighting it. He took a drag from it before offering it to you.

You rolled your eyes at him before taking it. Your fingers brushed against his, sending a shiver down your spine. You took a drag off of it before speaking. "Lana Del Rey makes really good music." Despite facing the window, you felt his eyes on you the whole time.

"Oh so I was right?" He grinned, staring at the road now. "I just said the first girly thing that came to mind... And when did you start smoking? I'm gonna tell your mom." He laughed.

You attempted to hide the smile that played at the corners of your mouth. "I'll be sure to tell her you supplied me with them... and yeah I like Lana. She sings about real shit." You took another drag from the cigarette, blowing the smoke out of the window.

Kylo scoffed at you again, motioning to the radio. "And you don't think bands like this do?... This song is called Metabolic, its about the lead singer's absent father and how he fears he will become just like him. They sing about real shit too, it isn't just screaming."

You shrugged, taking another hit before handing the cigarette back to him as he pulled into your driveway. "I never said they didn't, I'm just not super into this type of music."

He glared at you as you grabbed your bag, cigarette dangling from his mouth. You got out of his car, and shut the door behind you. "Thanks for the ride, Kylo" You said through gritted teeth.

I can't believe I'm telling this man thank you.

"No problem." He looked like he wanted to say something else but he stopped himself.

You nodded, before heading to your door. You noticed that he had watched you and waited for you to get inside your house before pulling away.

"How nice of Kylo for driving you home. What a sweet boy." Your mom smiled as you came through the door. "I wish he wouldn't smoke though, you smell like cigarettes."

"Yeah, he's cool." You sigh as you walk up the stairs, making your way to your room before shutting your bedroom door behind you.

You sit at your desk and open your laptop to get started on some homework. Before you start, you grab your headphones and open your phone, deciding to give Kylo's music taste another try. As you do your calculus homework, you find yourself tapping your foot to the music.

The following day, you waited outside for Finn to pick you up from class. You had waited 30 minutes before deciding to call him and he didn't pick up a single one of your several calls.

That fucker. He just left me here.

You huffed before opening your phone again in defeat, pressing on Kylo's contact.

"Yeah?" He sounded like had been sleeping. Your face felt hot from just the sound of his voice.

"I um- Finn left me here and I uh... don't have anyone to pick me up... Can you please come get me?" It felt so foreign asking Kylo for literally anything.

"Yeah I'll be there in fifteen minutes." He said. You noticed that he sounded much more alert, and you heard him shuffling in the background.

"Okay thanks... Uh- bye." You hung up, sitting down on the curb.

It wasn't even seven minutes before Kylo turned into the parking lot and pulled up next to you.

You opened the door, throwing your bag on the floor and getting in. "Jesus Christ, man?? How many traffic laws did you break getting here?" You smirked as you buckled your seatbelt.

Kylo laughed. "If you drove, and owned a car like this, you'd speed too." You couldn't help but notice the light pink that spread across his cheeks at your comment.

He handed you your own cigarette this time, and you placed it in your mouth. You went to reach for the lighter but he beat you to it.

"Allow me." Kylo said before raising the flame up to the end of your cigarette. You inhale, watching it ignite. You caught his gaze for a moment and felt the butterflies return, quickly averting your eyes and taking the cigarette between your fingers to turn and exhale out of his window. Kylo cleared his throat and looked ahead before lighting his own and pulling away.

You both listened to his music in silence for a few minutes. As you fidgeted with the hem of your skirt, you recognized the song playing and began to mouth the lyrics.

I am my father's son 'cause he's a phantom, a mystery, and that leaves me nothing.

How many times have you wanted to die?

It's too late for me, all you have to do is get rid of me.

You can't see California without Marlon Brando's eyes.

Kylo's eyes darted over to you a few times, and he laughed. "There is no way- are you fucking singing along to Slipknot right now?! I thought this shit scared you, kid?" The look on his face was filled with shock and amusement.

"It's a catchy song. I don't know... Stop calling me that asshole!" You could feel the deep blush creeping across your face.

"No, No." He wasn't letting this go. "I didn't play this CD in the car yesterday, did you seriously go home and listen to it?" Between that and how embarrassed you looked from him pointing it out, Kylo could not contain the smile of pure amusement on his face.

"I don't know- Maybe." You looked out of the window, not facing him. You wanted nothing more than to die in that moment.

He was loving this too much. "Fucking obsessed with me, aren't ya? Listening to my songs and shit." Kylo teased.

You turned to glare at him. "I- No! Shut the fuck up." You gripped the fabric of your skirt and took a final drag of your cigarette before tossing it out of the window.

He laughed, shaking his head as he pulled into the driveway. "I'm only fucking with you."

"That's all you ever seem to do. Thanks for the ride I guess." You muttered as you got out of his car, slamming the door before walking to your house. As you walked away, you caught a glimpse of the look of disappointment and guilt on Kylo's face.

Fucking asshole. So unbelievable.

Kylo stayed in your driveway for a minute, debating on whether he should knock on your door to say something to you, but he ultimately decided against it and drove away.

That night, you laid in bed staring at your ceiling once again, head filled with thoughts of that stupid fucking beautiful asshole.

I don't understand him. He does nice shit for me sometimes, but then all he does is make fun of me?

And even after all of that, all you could think about was that stupid cigarette dangling from his lips and how hot he looked. Your mind wandered to how Kylo would lean closer to you, his hand resting on the back of your headrest while reversing. How he nodded his head and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the music. How close his face was to yours when he insisted on lighting your cigarette for you.

God! I'm such an idiot. I cant stand him or myself for that matter.

You heard a few taps on your window and your brow furrowed. You rolled out of bed, walking to your window before opening it. You were met with Kylo's dark eyes staring back at you.

Your eyes narrowed at him. "What a gentleman, thank you for knocking this time..." You said sardonically. "But Finn is asleep I think."

"Had to make sure you didn't have a guy over." He teased. "But I'm not here for him... you wanna smoke?" He grinned at you, holding up a neatly rolled joint.

You laughed nervously. "I've never smoked weed before Kylo, I don't know..."

"Of course you haven't... It'll be fine, I'm not asking you to smoke the whole goddamn thing." He smirked, offering his hand for you to take.

You sighed before taking Kylo's hand and ducking out of your window. The cold, October air sent goosebumps across your exposed arms and legs. He led you to a flat part of your roof and the both of you sat down together.

You watched as he placed the joint in his mouth and lit it, taking a couple hits before handing it to you.

You inhaled, noticing how it burned a little more than a cigarette does. You coughed slightly, which caused Kylo to chuckle, and you glared at him as you handed the joint back to him.

"I'm sorry if I made you mad earlier." He smirked, taking another hit.

You scoffed. "You just fuck with me too much. You always have."

Kylo sighed. "I only do it because your reactions are so fun... I didn't think about how it might make you feel." He paused. "And besides, I think its cute that you listened to my music all on your own, for the fun of it."

You blushed, hoping that the darkness would conceal the pink creeping across your face. "It's fine. I'm so used to your games by now." You laughed, shivering slightly.

Kylo placed the joint between his lips before slipping his dark jacket off and draping it around your shoulders. It felt so warm and was about three sizes too big for you. You laughed nervously, looking down. "Thank you."

He nodded, gazing down at you as he handed you the joint.

As the two of you sat in silence for a minute, the weed had already begun to take its toll on you. Everything seemed funny to you and as you looked up at the stars, you laughed softly at nothing.

Kylo smiled at you. "What's so funny, kid? Already high from two baby hits?" He teased. "This isn't even my strongest shit."

"You're such an idiot." You laughed at him, shaking your head.

The next hour was spent laughing about anything and everything. The two of you made fun of your brother, talked about college and how both of you agree calculus fucking sucks, and the two of you shared some other artists you liked with each other.

"I can't believe I clocked you so easily with Lana fucking Del Rey. I honest to god said that as a joke." Kylo laughed.

"Hey, she makes good music. Please let me make you listen to her the next time we're in the car, please." You playfully begged.

He sighed, feigning defeat. "Fine but only like two songs max... so you better make them good." Kylo smirked as he flicked the roach off the roof.

You weren't sure if it was the weed in your system, but something was giving you a slight newfound confidence to speak more freely. You sighed. "You're always spot on about me though... I am kind of lame. I always had this idea in my head that you and Finn were the ones who were losers... but in reality I am."

Kylo looked at you, puzzled. "I never thought you were a loser... I poke fun at you, sure, but I admire your intelligence... and how introverted you always are." He laughed, playfully pushing your shoulder.

You laughed nervously. "No, I mean... I don't go out and do anything fun the way you do. I don't loosen up, I don't hang out with people, I definitely never have guys over..." You laughed again, trailing off. "I mean my god I've never even kissed anyone."

He stared at you, his eyes scanning your face as if he were debating something. "You've got to be fucking with me right now. A pretty thing like you has surely got to have boys lined up and down the street."

You laughed at his comment, blushing. "If they are, I surely don't pay attention. No one talks to me at school." You stared at your lap, fiddling with the sleeves of his jacket.

You felt his cold fingertips touch your jaw, lifting your chin to look up at him. Before you could say anything, Kylo leaned in quickly and kissed you. You felt like a live wire, as if lightning bolts were shooting through your entire body. His kiss was urgent, yet gentle, and he held your face in his hands so tenderly.

When he pulled away, his eyes met yours and you both smiled nervously at each other. You noticed him shiver slightly. "Do you wanna... maybe go inside? It's warmer in there." You said shyly.

Kylo smirked at you. "Are you inviting a guy into your room right now?" He teased before standing up and taking your hand.

You giggled, following him. "Shut up."

He chuckled softly and when you got to the window, he went first. He ducked inside, pulling you with him which caused you both to practically fall through your window. You landed on top of him, your hushed giggles only silenced once he kissed you again.

"Shhh are you trying to wake your parents?" Kylo smirked up at you for a moment, taking in the sight of you on top of him on your bedroom floor, the moonlight from the window behind you illuminating you in a halo-like glow. He grabbed your waist and gently rolled you off of him, before you both stood up.

His large, strong hands pulled you by the waist closer to him, and he had to lean down to kiss you. His kiss was full of need this time, you felt his tongue glide along your bottom lip, asking for entry and you obliged, parting your lips. You moaned against his mouth and you felt the smirk that played at his lips.

Kylo took a few steps forward, pushing you gently backwards until the backs of your knees hit your soft bed. He pulled away for a moment to take his jacket off of you and throw it to the floor, before pushing you flat onto your bed.

"I-I've never... um." You stumbled over your words, feeling your face get hot as your eyes darted up to your ceiling.

Kylo leaned over you, his palms flat on the mattress on either side of your head. "I just stole your first kiss a couple minutes ago, you don't think I know that?" He smirked down at you before tilting his head slightly, leaning closer to trail kisses down your neck. "Do you not want to? I can stop whenever you want, all you need to do is say so." He whispered between kisses, trailing his hand down your body and stopping just above your clothed cunt.

The sensation made the heat in your core grow. "N-no. Don't stop Kylo." You whined.

He smiled, before standing straight up again and looking down at you. He looped his fingers under the waistband of your shorts and underwear, pulling them off slowly. "Look at you sweet thing, I've barely touched you and you're already a fucking mess." He teased, causing you to whimper.

Kylo chuckled softly, separating your knees and ghosting his hand down your thigh, stopping at your heat. He ran two long fingers through your slit, collecting your wetness on them before rubbing light circles over your clit. You gasped at the contact, bucking your hips instinctively against his hand. "Needy little thing, aren't you?" He smirked, using his other hand to hold your waist down before pushing his fingers inside slowly.

You whined at the feeling of his long fingers stretching you out, your much smaller hands were nothing compared to his. After giving you a moment to adjust, Kylo began to slowly pump his fingers in and out of your cunt, curling them upwards to draw sweet, soft moans from you.

"K-Kylo..." You breathed.

He smirked, amused by how quickly you were coming undone at his hand. "What is it, pretty girl?"

You whined at the sweet name he gave you, stuttering over your words once again. "You're g-gonna make me c-cum."

Kylo laughed softly, he had already gathered that from the noises you were making. "Oh, yeah?" He smirked at you, not faltering once with the steady pace he had created with his fingers.

"P-please. Please I want you to..." You trailed off, lost in the pleasure he was giving you.

"Please what? I'm not gonna do anything else unless you ask for it. Go ahead... Say it, say it." He was having way too much fun with you.

"Please Kylo..." You begged him. "Please I- I want you t-to fuck me."

He grinned at you and stood up, removing his fingers from your cunt, before licking them clean. You tasted divine to him, and he made a mental note that he needed to taste the source at some point. Maybe another night.

You whined at the sudden feeling of emptiness and watched as he pulled a condom from his wallet, putting it between his lips before working to undo his belt. He made quick work of his clothes, saving his boxers for last and sliding them off, his cock springing upwards.

You didn't realize your mouth was open until Kylo looked over at you and saw you staring at him. He laughed, tearing the condom wrapper open with his teeth. "I'll go slow, don't worry." You watched as he slid the condom down to the base of his cock, before making his way over to you on the bed.

He made you sit up a bit so he could pull your shirt over your head, before kissing you, trailing down your neck and chest, leaving a few light red marks along the way. You whimpered at the sensation, not caring that you'd have to conceal them in the morning.

Kylo pulled away, admiring his work and settling himself between your legs, lining his cock up with your entrance. "Ready?" He moved a piece of hair from your eyes, smirking down at you.

You wrapped your arms around him, nodding your head. He groaned as he slowly pushed his cock inside you, taking extra care not to hurt you and watching as your face contorted from the feeling of his cock splitting you open. Your nails dug into his back as you whined.

After allowing you a moment to adjust to his size, Kylo began to move slowly, creating a gentle yet deep pace and hitting that bundle of nerves inside you with each thrust. It felt like heaven and you attempted to stifle your moans, failing miserably. "Shhh pretty girl, don't wake up the entire house now." He put his hand over your mouth lightly, smiling down at you.

You moaned against Kylo's hand as he began to pick up his pace slightly. He removed his hand to kiss you, his tongue winning dominance over the inside of your mouth.

Kylo pulled away to admire you, his thrusts were still gentle, but he was unrelenting on that sensitive spot, hitting it with each snap of his hips.

"Ky-kylo... m'gonna c-cum... feels so good." You whined, unable to form a coherent sentence.

"Yeah?" He moaned slightly, out of breath and nearing his own climax. "Go ahead, cum on my cock."

Your vision went blurry as you came undone beneath him, the tight coil in your abdomen bursting into fireworks of endless pleasure.

"Just like that, pretty girl. You're doing so good, Fuck." Kylo whispered in your ear, easing you through your orgasm as his hand rested over your mouth to muffle your moans.

After a few more thrusts he came to a halt with a groan, burying himself deep inside of you as he came. "Fuck- shit! You feel so fucking good." He hissed.

As Kylo came down from his high, he breathed heavily, smiling down at you before kissing you again. He pulled away, pulling out of you. You whined, which caused him to chuckle slightly. You watched as he took the condom off, throwing it in the trash before slipping his boxers back on, and retrieving his band t-shirt and your underwear from the floor.

He sat back on the bed and gently dressed you, his shirt hanging off of your much smaller frame. "You look so pretty in my clothes." He smirked at you, pulling your covers over the two of you before taking you into his arms.

You rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat flutter. "Thank you." You whispered softly.

Kylo chuckled. "For what, pretty girl?" He played with your hair.

"For making my first time memorable. It was really, really good..." You trailed off sleepily.

You heard his heartbeat falter at your comment and you smiled. He ran his fingers through your hair. "You don't have to thank me for that, I've wanted to do this for a while now." Kylo waited for an answer but it never came. He sighed, smiling as he realized you had fallen asleep on him. This was a feeling he could get used to.

The following morning, you two were awoken by the sound of your mother knocking on your bedroom door. Kylo was immediately alert, scrambling out of bed and grabbing his remaining clothes before ducking under your bed as you silently laughed at him.

"Yeah?" You called out to your mother.

She entered, looking around your room. "I'm going to the grocery store, do you want anything... where did you get that shirt." She stared at the Slipknot t-shirt you were wearing that was three sizes too big for you.

You looked down at yourself, before looking back at her. "I'm doing laundry right now and Kylo left it in Finn's room a long time ago." You lied through your teeth. "And no, I don't want anything."

"Hm, okay... And close that window, the heat is on and its freezing in here!" She motioned to your open window before leaving, shutting the door behind her.

You fell back onto your pillow, shutting your eyes and smiling at the sound of Kylo's laughter beneath you.

[asoftepiloguemylove]

i would kill to be the cold tracing your body and shaking your bones

Steven Espada Dawson Elegy for the Four Chambers of My Brother's Heart / Anne Carson Decreation; Lines / George Seferis (tr. Edmund Keeley) from Stratis Thalassinos Among the Agapanth, Collected Poems / Elaine Kahn Romance or the End / @/the-empath-and-the-intuitive (on tumblr) / Virginia Woolf from a letter to Violet Dickinson written January 1909 / @/sweatermuppet (on tumblr) / Ocean Vuong On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous / unknown

i. Steven Espada Dawson Elegy for the Four Chambers of My Brother's Heart

[ "We're under the same moon and I'm sick / with that knowing." ]

ii. Anne Carson Decreation; Lines

[ Screenshot of a tumblr post by @/xshayarsha with an excerpt from a poem. "How long will it feel like burning, said the child trying to be kind." ]

iii. George Seferis (tr. Edmund Keeley) Startis Thalassinos Among the Agapanth

[ "The first thing God made is love / then comes blood / and the thirst for blood" ]

iv. Elaine Kahn Romance or the End

[ "I have heard it said that love turns people soft but i have never been more brutal." ]

v. @/the-empath-and-the-intuitive (on tumblr)

[ Grainy, washed out image of two statues with smashed in faces. They are turned to face each other. "After love, no one is what they were before." ]

vi. Virginia Woolf from a letter to Violet Dickinson written January 1909

[ Excerpt from a letter written by Virginia Woolf to Violet Dickinson. "I appreciate your concern. None of this is your fault. It's me. It's me and my head. / In winter, I collapse." ]

vii. @/sweatermuppet (on tumblr)

[ Grainy, black and white image of a wolf and male deer pressing their noses together. Words are sporadically placed around the image and are surrounded by a white border. "'cause / ive / always / been / scared / of / loving / someone / just / a / little / bit / more / than / im / loved" ]

viii. Ocean Vuong On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous

[ Screenshot of a tumblr post by @/memoryslandscape with an excerpt from a poem. "I miss you more than I remember you." ]

ix. unknown

[ Screenshot of a forum post by a user named "robin" posted on August 11, 2022. "it gets better, i think. maybe just for a day. maybe just for a song. but there's something there to hold on to." ]

[halfmoth-halfman]

iv. the night was young (and so were we)

Pairing: Mob Boss!Price x F!Reader Word Count: 4.6k Warnings: alcohol, drunken karaoke, medical inaccuracies, wound descriptions Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters. A/N: i'm so sorry for this being late, things have been kind of exhausting, but good news is i hit some inspiration and have half of the next chapter already written so it should be out much quicker! thank you guys for being patient with me! prev | next

Unable to sleep, you’re up and ready first thing in the morning. You take better care to clean and rewrap your hand, making a small mental note to restock the bandages in your first-aid kit as soon as you can.

You make it to the club an hour early and less than excited to start clean-up from the previous night’s events. You don’t bother walking to the front, heading straight for the back door as you sort through your mental checklist of chores.

You’ll start with the kitchen; it’s the least you can do if you plan on asking Rudy to look at your hand. You hadn’t been paying attention to which racks you’d knocked over during your struggle, but you don’t think it's more than you can handle cleaning.

Warm air hits your face as you swing the door open, walking into the kitchen, ready to work.

A sharp whistle echoes through the kitchen, and you startle, not expecting anyone to be here this early. Your eyes dart up, ready to look for the source of the whistle, but you catch the shine from one of the countertops and realize:

The kitchen is spotless, not a single thing out of place as every surface sparkles and shines.

Valeria leans against one of those shining counters, polishing a set of knives as Rudy and Alejandro loudly sort through the ingredient racks behind her.

They don’t seem to have noticed you as you quietly step further into the kitchen.

You get two steps closer to her when Valeria speaks, “Heard you put on quite the show.” She doesn’t look up from the set of knives, setting the newly polished one aside and plucking another from the unclean pile.

“Wouldn’t call it a show,” you mutter, joining her at the counter.

“No?” She shoots you a quick glance, brow raised, and mouth pulled into a slight smirk. “That’s not what Laswell says.”

“It wasn’t much,” you shrug. “All it took was some creative storytelling and a few tears.”

Valeria scoffs, muttering a quiet, “Of course.” She finishes polishing and sets the knife aside, folding and laying the cloth on top. She turns to face you, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning with her hip against the counter. Her eyes drop down over your clothes, lingering on your bandaged hand for a moment before traveling back up to your face.

“Laswell said she got there late—that they already had you in interrogation when she arrived.” Valeria tilts her head, eyes never leaving yours.

“For a few minutes,” you nod. Valeria hums, nodding along in seeming sympathy, but her eyes convey anything but. A small chill prickles its way up your spine under her intense gaze.

“Sounds like a quick conversation,” Valeria says offhandedly, but you hear the underlying question.

What did they tell you?

What did you tell them?

You take the suspicion in stride, a small huff of laughter escaping your lips. Valeria's brows raise, almost offended at your nerve to laugh at her.

“If you count being talked at with some patronizing spiel about how I need their protection, a conversation, then sure.”

“Their protection,” Valeria scoffs quietly. “From what?”

“My big, bad boss and his apparent gang of ne’er-do-wells,” you huff with a roll of your eyes and add, a bit indignantly, “Like I even need their help. I can protect myself just fine.”

“I can see that.” Valeria glances down at your hand again. She meets your eyes, staring you down for a few seconds longer. You match her gaze with a small smile and tension lining your shoulders.

I’m not a threat. You don’t need to worry.

Valeria looks away first, returning to her knives with a dismissive wave. You feel like you should say more, add something to try and convince her you don’t intend to harm the club.

You take a moment, trying to find the right words, “I—”

“Look who’s here!” Alejandro and Rudy finally spot you, leaving the ingredient racks behind to join you and Valeria at the counter. Alejandro passes her with a quick touch to her back and a small kiss to the top of her head that she clicks her tongue at, walking up to clap you on the back. Rudy hangs back, waiting on the opposite side of Valeria and watching you with a polite smile.

“We were wondering when you’d show up,” Alejandro laughs.

“I thought I’d come in early, y’know? Get a head start on cleaning up the kitchen after what happened,” you smile back at him.

“Don’t worry about that; we’ve got it covered!” Alejandro nods to Rudy, sending him a wink that you almost miss.

“I appreciate it,” you say, and Alejandro gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I should probably start on the bar then—”

“Bar’s already done,” Rudy cuts in. “Couple of the boys took care of it already.”

“Oh.”

You hadn’t been expecting that. Sure, you figured the others might’ve helped a little or found someone to lift the things too heavy for you, but you didn’t think they’d clean the entire place themselves.

“Well—” you turn to Rudy, setting your hands gently atop the counter, ”—I hope you won’t mind if I ask you for a favor, then?” His brows knit together in confusion as you raise your bandaged hand, wiggling your fingers at him in a little wave. “Price said to have you take a look at this?”

His eyes widen in surprise as he nods, “Yeah, come on.” He steps back from the counter as Alejandro disappears into the back and returns with a small bag for Rudy and a metal folding chair for you. You thank him, sitting down as Rudy goes through the bag. He pulls out a small black roll that unravels into a kit of various scalpels, tweezers, needles, and scissors.

“What happened?” Rudy asks, stepping away to wash his hands before putting on a pair of disposable gloves.

“The cops do that to you?” Alejandro questions, stern gaze set on your hand.

“No, I got scraped up when I crawled through the broken glass behind the bar. Then…” You glance over your shoulder to where Valeria polishes the knives, your gaze settling on the silver of the blades.

“You alright, avecita?” Alejandro asks softly.

“Someone grabbed me from behind,” you sigh. “I didn’t see who it was, but they slammed me into the counter, so I grabbed the closest weapon I could find. Didn’t mean to grab it by the blade, but it worked well enough.” You turn back to Rudy, who’s staring at you with something akin to pity.

“You did good,” Rudy mumbles, holding a gloved hand out to you. You set your hand in his, palm up, and he begins unwrapping the bandages. It stings slightly as the gauze pulls at the blood that’s started to scab along the edges, but you keep your hand still for him. Rudy hums as he sees the wound in its entirety; it’s nothing too severe—a good slice across the palm and a few minor cuts around it—but your skin is red and starting to swell.

“Good news is it doesn’t look like any glass is stuck in your skin,” Rudy explains, slightly turning your hand.

“And the bad news?”

“Cleaning it will probably hurt. A lot.”

Your left shoulder pangs in a soft ache.

“Can’t hurt worse than being body slammed onto a counter,” you joke. You get a small laugh from Rudy and even a little huff from Valeria behind you. Rudy momentarily lets go of your hand to get whatever he needs to clean your cuts, so you turn to Alejandro.

“Why would you think the cops did this?” you ask.

“The Chief’s got a hard-on for Price, and he tends to look the other way if his boys get a little too rough,” Alejandro explains, the malice in his voice as apparent as the frown that pulls at his mouth.

You feel Rudy grip your hand again and keep your eyes trained on Alejandro.

“The Chief?” you ask, thinking back to your walk through the station. Your mind immediately travels to the officer in the different uniform—the one who’d yelled at Soap. “The bald guy?”

“Shephard,” Alejandro spits.

Rudy wipes something soft and wet across your palm, and the following sting instantly shoots up your arm. You sink your teeth into your cheek, waiting for the pain to dull to a manageable point.

“What’s he got against Price?” You grind the question out as Rudy continues, fighting the urge to pull your hand away.

“Nothing reasonable,” Valeria scoffs.

“They worked together before the club opened,” Alejandro explains. “Something went down between them, and Shepherd’s had it out for him ever since.”

“Something went—ow, fuck—something went down? Like what?”

“Don’t know,” Alejandro shrugs, “but whatever it was, it was bad.”

You try to think back to your father’s old visitors—his war buddies, business partners, and informants. You don’t remember the name Shepherd, not even as a codename. And none of his seemingly endless stories about Price and the 141 ever mentioned him.

“Alright,” Rudy says, releasing your hand again, “The biggest cut will probably need a few stitches, but everything else should be fine. I’ll rewrap your hand, and you’ll have to keep the area dry for at least 48 hours. After that, water should be fine, just don’t soak it, and we’ll look at how you’re doing in a week or so.”

You nod, hand now numb from the pain of the disinfectant, “Whatever you say, Doc.” Rudy raises a brow at you, and you respond with a teasing smile.

Alejandro leaves Rudy to his work, continuing whatever they had been doing with the ingredient racks while Valeria works silently behind you.

You let your mind wander back to Shepherd, wondering where you could have met him. He didn’t seem familiar to you. You doubt your father would have known him, but you can’t imagine him not wanting to keep tabs on someone who wanted to take down the 141 as much as he did.

Or maybe it wasn’t your father who knew him. It could’ve been—

A shiver travels up your spine.

If he knew Shepherd, you definitely didn’t want to get involved.

-

True to his word, Rudy takes your stitches out a week later, pleased with how well you’ve healed. He wraps your hand again, this time with a cold, medicinal cream slathered over your palm. You ask him for extra bandages, telling him it’s for your own first-aid kit, and he’s kind enough to give you an unopened box with enough rolls of gauze to keep you stocked for months.

The dynamic shifts after that first week.

Kyle remains friendly as ever and always happy to speak with you. Soap and Alex are a little friendlier, inviting you to join their conversations before your shift and letting you play music over the speakers while you work.

On the rare occasions they’re there at the same time as you, Roach and König will join you for lunch, sitting on the edge of the stage with you and sharing snacks. You learn that Roach and König are roommates, living in a large flat with a third bedroom that’s meant for König’s boyfriend, who travels for several months out of the year.

You’re invited to visit during open hours more often, Alex saving you a seat at the bar next to Nik, where you have the perfect view of Farah as she croons into the microphone. Valeria even manages to convince you to join a few poker games; she never lets you win, of course, but she also goes out of her way to make sure you beat everyone else at the table.

Even Ghost doesn’t seem to watch you as much. He still doesn’t speak to you but seems more tolerant of your presence. You’ve never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so you take what you can get.

You see Price around the club more after that first week as well. It’s usually in passing, you working your way around the club and him mostly coming and going from his office, but he always goes out of his way to stop and say hi. You try not to overthink it, but it’s hard not to notice his hand lingering a few seconds too long on your shoulder and how those brilliant blue eyes follow you around the room when he doesn’t think you’re looking.

Do not get involved with your boss, you scold yourself.

Unfortunately, you’ve never been good at taking your advice.

Two months after what has been dubbed The Hassan Incident, Kyle, Soap, and Alex catch you at the end of the day, calling you over to the bar just as you’re about to leave.

“We’re going out tonight,” Kyle grins as you walk up the steps.

“And you’re coming with us!” Soap laughs, throwing an arm around your shoulder to pull you into his side.

“Going out where?” you ask, pulling yourself from under Soap’s arm.

“A couple other clubs,” Alex explains, “Boss says it’s good to get out and survey the competition.”

“And he knows we could all use the night off,” Kyle adds, grin sliding into something more teasing. The other two laugh—a joke you aren't in on.

“I appreciate the invite, but clubs aren’t my thing,” you say, offering an apologetic smile.

“Whaddaya mean? You’re here almost every other night!” Soap asks, nudging you in the side with his elbow.

“That’s not the same—”

“Don’t be a downer, come with us!”

“Everyone’s gonna be there!”

“You’ll have a great time, we promise!”

You groan, throwing your hands up in defeat. “Fine! Fine.” The guys cheer, Soap and Alex high-fiving over the bar. You roll your eyes, no actual malice behind it, giving the three a pointed look, “But you three are paying for my drinks.”

And in unison, they say, “Done.”

-

Surveying the competition turns out to be code for going on a club crawl and getting obscenely drunk.

You lose track after the third or fourth club, trying to manage your alcohol intake and matching every drink you’re given with a glass of water. It works for the most part, leaving you just drunk enough to let loose and have a little fun.

While the rest of your little gang spends their time at the bars, Soap and Kyle wear you out, making it their mission to get you to dance at every club your group visits. You spend the few moments of reprieve with Alex, Farah, and Valeria. You dance with Farah and Valeria a few times, Alex politely declining as he lifts one of his pant legs to show part of an impressive silver prosthetic.

“Wasn’t much of a dancer before, but now it’s like I have two left feet,” he laughs. Instead, he keeps an eye on Farah and your drinks, praising your moves when the three of your return to the table.

By the night's end, Soap and Kyle have succeeded in their mission, and you’re exhausted enough to miss the lumpy mattress of your motel room. You think the others are starting to come down too, but someone suggests karaoke, and all hell breaks loose.

You follow everyone out of the club—was it number seven or eight?—sandwiched between Roach and Alejandro as the group walks toward their next destination.

“Doin’ awrite, Goose?” Soap calls back to you, leaning heavily onto Ghost, who looks unbelievably annoyed but refuses to move his arm from around Soap’s waist.

“Are you?” you laugh, taking in the way the Scot stumbles and struggles to keep pace with Ghost.

“Aye,” Soap slurs, leaning into Ghost’s side. “Ah'm jus’ great.” The others snicker, equally as uncoordinated and intoxicated.

The walk isn’t long, crossing a few streets before things start to look familiar to you. You recognize a street sign, then a shop, and finally, realize where you’re headed when you turn the corner and see the club sitting across the street.

“You guys have karaoke?” you ask no one in particular.

“Sort of,” Kyle says, smiling wide as he slows his stride to loop his arm through yours. “You’ll see, come on.”

The gang enters the club, pushing tables together in front of the stage while Price, Nik, and Alex start grabbing bottles from behind the bar. You help where you can, moving chairs until they’re arranged around the rows of tables all facing the stage and holding a cable for Roach while he sets up a single mic on stage.

“Gaz yer f’rst!” Soap yells, handing Kyle a full shot glass and shoving him towards the stage. Kyle downs it easily, hopping onto the stage, and everyone finds a seat. You reach for yours, but the chair pulls out before you can get it. Price stands behind it with a small smile, gesturing for you to sit down.

You’ll blame the sudden flush of your cheeks on the alcohol.

“Thanks,” you nod, sitting down. Price walks off but returns a moment late, and Kyle checks the mic with two glasses in hand, setting the one full of ice and clear liquid in front of you. “Oh, I’m not—”

“It’s water,” Price laughs, and you sigh in relief. You take a generous sip, savoring the cold as it travels down your throat.

You turn to thank him, but you’re interrupted by the sudden blast of music and a chorus of cheers and shouts from the rest of the club.

Kyle stands center stage, phone in hand so he can read the lyrics to his song, and takes the next three minutes to deliver an unforgettable—and slurred—performance of The Pina Colada song that has you loudly cheering. He receives a standing ovation when he’s done, bowing and jumping down from the stage. He takes the seat next to you, thanking you for your praises as Soap clambers up on stage, Ghost hovering nearby and ready to help at a moment’s notice.

His rendition of I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) is dedicated to Ghost and has the rest of you dying in your seats from laughter and singing clumsily along.

After Soap, an excited Alejandro and less enthusiastic Rudy sing a duet of Me Gustas Tu that is equally sweet and enjoyable.

Soap goes again, pulling Ghost on stage to sing Tequila with him. It’s mostly Soap dancing and holding the mic up to a silent Ghost. It’s funny enough, but during the final chorus, Ghost sighs and reluctantly grumbles a quiet tequila into the mic. Everyone goes wild, but none more so than Soap, who rewards Ghost with a kiss on his masked cheek before taking off back toward the bar. Ghost follows him, eyes trained on the ground to keep anyone from seeing the sudden blossoming of red across his face.

Nik takes Soap’s place with a surprisingly lovely voice that has your full attention until a set of hands slam down onto your shoulders. You jump, nearly knocking your glass over, but Price and Kyle jump into action and catch the glass before it can tip.

“Y’ready t’ sing, Duck?” Soap asks, leaning forward and crushing his cheek against yours.

“I’m not singing,” you laugh, gently trying to guide Soap away from you.

“Sure y’ are!” Soap laughs, louder than necessary. “Came here t’ sing, s’now yer gonna sing! Picked yer song an’ ev’rythin’!” Soap gives you a slightly rough pat on the cheek, walking away before you can argue.

“No,” you say, looking between Price and Kyle for help, “I am not singing.”

“Sounds like you are,” Kyle chuckles.

“You’re the boss,” you whine, nudging Price in the arm. “Tell him I’m not going up there.”

Price leans back in his chair, staring down at you with a smirk that looks too damn good on him. “Consider it your audition.” Kyle chokes down a laugh behind you as your mouth drops open and Nik’s song comes to an end.

“Awrite, get up ‘ere, hen!” Soap shouts into the mic, pointing directly at you. The others cheer and clap, all eyes trained on you.

“I hate both of you,” you mutter to Price and Kyle. You pluck Price’s glass from his hands, downing the rest of the drink and allowing the whiskey to burn down your throat and spread liquid courage through your veins before making your way up to the stage. Soap hands you his phone, a song already paused on the screen, and disappears off the stage.

The sooner this is over, the sooner you can go home.

You hit play, surprised when the first few notes echo across the club.

You know this song.

You’ve played it for him and Alex a few times before, mentioning that it was one of your favorites, but you hadn’t expected either of them to remember that.

You know the words, and you’re already up here, alcohol and adrenaline humming through your bones.

Might as well.

You squeeze your eyes shut, forcing out any images of crowds of black suits and too-tight dresses and crescent-shaped scars sitting high on the cheekbone.

You’re safe here.

Go for it.

You sing the first few notes, beginning softly and letting your courage build up. And once it does, you give the performance of a lifetime. You’re a little too drunk to dance, so you stick to the mic belting out each note with everything you’ve got, not even needing to look at the lyrics. It’s somehow the longest and shortest three minutes of your life, and you absolutely kill it, fueled by your nerves and the uproar of applause as you hit the final chorus.

The song ends drowned out by the drunken cheers of your co-workers and, dare you say, friends. You give a short bow, walking to the edge of the stage to return to your seat.

A gentle, warm hand wraps around yours. You look to the sudden grasp and find Price standing in front of the stage, your hand in his as he helps you down the dip of the stage.

“Quite the performance,” he murmurs, eyes never leaving yours. He doesn’t pull away, keeping your hand loosely in his.

“The extra drink helped,” you joke, wrapping your hand around his and giving it a soft squeeze.

You pull away, and he lets you go, stepping back to allow you past him so you can return to your table. Kyle, Soap, and Ghost are waiting for you, the former two clapping you on the back and offering you congratulatory drinks. Ghost tips his head in a slight nod that feels far more personal than anything you’ve ever gotten from him.

You accept the drinks, throwing all caution to the wind as König takes the stage.

The rest of the night passes with far more fun than you’ve had in years. You cut yourself off and sober up enough to drive yourself back to the motel after making sure everyone else was taken care of—a gesture Price and Ghost seemed very thankful for.

You collapse onto your bed, only bothering to remove your shoes, and are out the moment you land on the hard mattress.

-

You manage to get to the club early the next morning, splurging on a cheap coffee from the gas station and a pair of novelty sunglasses to keep the blaring sun out of your eyes. The cashier says nothing but gives you a sympathetic smile and tells you to keep your change. You thank her, sliding the too-pink strawberry-shaped shades over your eyes as you return to your car. You drive slowly, being extra cautious with the visor down to keep as much sun out of your eyes as possible.

After parking, you take a few minutes to collect yourself, sipping from your burnt coffee. It takes some effort, and a small pep talk to yourself, to get you out of the car.

“Fuck this,” you hiss as the bright rays of light immediately beat down on your face. You lock your car, heading straight for the back door and into the thankfully dim kitchen. It’s a slow trek to the main room, your mind throbbing with thoughts about which corner you could hide in to take a quick nap.

You don’t think anyone would mind.

Really, you’d be surprised if they showed up for the day; most of them had been in a state far worse than you when you’d left.

You’re halfway across the room when a door clicks open behind you, and you hear, “Canary, come here!”

You groan, holding your head as you slowly turn around. The best you can muster is a frown at whoever’s just shouted and is now laughing very loudly at you as you slog over to the office doors. You slide your sunglasses up, looking at Kyle’s beaming face with pure exhaustion written on your own.

“Rough night?”

“Fuck off.”

Kyle lets out a laugh that has you gripping your head, pushing past him into the office. Any other time you’d welcome the rich smell of Price’s office, but your hangover has fucked over your senses, and it takes everything in you to not vomit on the carpet.

A low whistle echoes through the office and burrows straight through your ears.

“And I thought Soap looked rough,” Price chuckles from behind his desk. You send him your fiercest glare, taking a long sip from your coffee with your middle finger strategically placed along the cup. “Is that how you treat the man who signs your paychecks?”

“You don’t even know how much you’re paying me,” you huff, flopping gracelessly into one of the chairs in front of his desk.

“How much is that again?” Kyle laughs, taking the seat next to you.

“Not enough,” you mutter into your coffee cup.

“Good thing we’re here to discuss your pay then, isn’t it?” Price asks. Your gaze shoots up to him, brows raising as a spike of anxiety jolts through you.

“Please don’t fire me while I’m hungover. I might throw up on your desk.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them, but you’re too worried to feel embarrassed.

“Least she’s honest, yeah?” Price laughs to Kyle. He leans back in his chair, a broad smile on his face. “Alex and Farah are going on vacation.”

“O…kay?” Your brows knit together, confused as you look between Price and Kyle, who’s doing a poor job at hiding a suspiciously devious grin.

“In the meantime, the club will need a singer.”

You flounder, unable to form words as you’re already off-kilter brain tries to understand what’s happening.

Gaz nudges your arm, “You did say you wanted to sing here.”

“Our new Songbird,” Price adds softly.

“Uh, yeah. Yes! That—that would be…amazing.” You barely get the words out, trying to contain your excitement, fluster, and every other burst of emotion you’re feeling. “When do I start?”

“You’ll rehearse with Farah in the weeks leading up to her leaving and take over after she’s gone,” Price explains, turning to Kyle. “Have Valeria get her fitted. Today, preferably.”

Kyle nods, pulling out his phone and standing from his chair. He holds a hand out to you, not looking up from the screen.

“Better go before Valeria gets too busy,” Price smirks. You take the hint and grab Kyle’s hand as he helps you up. He walks ahead of you, holding the door open for you.

“And Gaz!” Price calls as you pass through his office doors. “Get her a phone!”

“Will do!”

taglist: @sleepyendymion, @blazedprince, @blueoorchid, @ohgodthebogisback, @melancholyy-hill, @wasteland-babe, @meepetteoneonly, @anitaebee, @honeyr4ven, @curasimp, @jxvipike, @frazie99, @reiya-djarin, @urfavsunkissedleo, @hauntingtherosebush, @aerangi, @ofmenanduhhhwellmen, @warners-wife, @xx4rcticxx, @mundane-frogola, @marytvirgin, @nyooom, @gogh-with-the-flow, @arctic-writes, @thriving-n-jiving, @deadpoetsandhoney

[ghosts-bandwagon]

May i ask for a female! reader x Johnny MacTavish tooth rutting fluff after some hurt with smut if you're comfortable enough?. They're sickeningly in love with eachother , and between his job that needs his complete and full commitment and her being a busy woman who has a lot in her plate as well ; they barely can get any time for each other but God Knows how much they crave one another's love and touch, how it's painfully hard for them to open Their eyes from the faint memory of eachother, until one day, their stars aligned and got lucky enough to finally meet at the same time, same day after a long time.🤎

I love this!!! I love your brain!!! This is the longest thing I’ve written so far, I was so inspired 😭

warnings: mentions of injuries, nsfw, this is really long holy shit lmao

You were a nurse on base when you first met Soap, you were elbow deep in his blood doing everything you could to stem the bleeding and in his delirious pain-killer infused haze, he thought you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. The way the light above you framed your head in a halo, he was convinced that if you were the last thing he saw before he died he’d be fine.

And when he came to after a successful surgery, he told you as much. Needless to say, you were beet red at his confession. You laughed it off and attributed it to the cocktail of various pain meds churning through his system. Your laugh was the most gorgeous sound he’d ever heard, he decided that everything in the world would pale in comparison to you. Nothing could possibly be more beautiful than your radiant smile, your enchanting laugh, nothing.

It wasn’t until later on that you realized you forgot to set a flow on the IV infusion pump and he was on the minimum dose of pain meds. You sprinted back to his room and fixed it while he was asleep. You refused to admit you were distracted by his beautiful blue eyes.

Checking in on him was your favorite part of the day, he’d always greet you with a beaming smile and you’d find yourself sticking around longer and longer every time you’d check on him. Eventually you found yourself eating your lunch in his room, laughing at his ridiculous jokes, hanging off every word of his stories, exchanging a few of your own. Soon enough, he was occupying your every thought. You found yourself thinking of him as you filled out the discharge paperwork for some of the other patients, wondering what kind of man he is in the comfort of his home, curious as to how he takes his coffee and if he’d ever teach you.

And then he was cleared to return to active duty. The news sat in your stomach like a ball of lead but you were still happy for him, thrilled that he was healed (enough to go back to the field).

“I know you’re cleared to get back to it, but try to limit your activity for the next two weeks or so. Your wounds have healed for the most part but, as much as I loved having you here, I don’t want to see you back here again.” You teased as you handed him his discharge paperwork,

“What if I came back under different circumstance?” He asked, you bit your lower lip in an attempt to stifle the girlish smile that threatened to split your face in two,

“Then I’d be happy to see you again.”

And so it would be. You’d see him pop into your office every now and again, cup of coffee and a protein bar in his hands, it never failed to bring a glowing smile to your face. You’d sip your coffee and eat your bar and exchange a few laughs but one of you always had to run, you loved those small moments but they never felt like enough. When your hands and arms were covered in the blood of a critical case, you’d cling to the idea of seeing him again, the thought was the only peace you’d have amidst the chaos. When Soap was pinned down behind cover with Ghost doing everything possible to assist, he’d think back to the time he brought you coffee and bumped into you leaving your office, spilling it all over himself. He chuckled at the memory of your mortified face as you ran back inside and grabbed as many paper towels as you could, patting him down and apologizing profusely. He could do this for you. He holds on to the next time he’ll see you.

The moments became fewer and farther in between, he used to be able to catch you in your office but you never seemed to be there anymore. He ignored the pain in his chest when he left the styrofoam cup on your desk with a sticky note and your name on it. When you’d chat with Captain Price about the task force, you’d swallow the lump in your throat that would come up when he’d tell you Soap and Ghost were out on a mission at the moment. But everyone is fine for the most part. You smiled at him but it never reached your eyes, you were grateful for everyone’s well-being of course! But maybe you cared about one of them more than the others.

Your rotation was up and it was your turn to head home for a few weeks until you were due back again. It’s been months since you’ve seen anything having to do with Johnny. You didn’t want to go home, not without seeing him, not without knowing he’s alright, not without hearing his voice. Swallowing your tears you wrote a note for him, you jotted down your number and where you lived and how best to reach you and you left the note in his room.

You were a week into your time home and you hadn’t heard anything, you feared the worst. Your friends caught onto your blues and invited you out for drinks. The promise of the burn was tempting so you opted to go with them. You weren’t really in the mood to get all dressed up but still you opted for a nice blouse, well fitting jeans, and some ankle boots with a modest heel on them. You were nursing a mojito and tuned out of your friend’s conversations when you heard your name being called, you looked up at them and noticed none of them were referring to you. Your head perked up and looked around the room and you were met with a striking pair of blue eyes and a ridiculous mohawk, you didn’t even hesitate to get up and walk over to him.

As soon as you were close enough, he pulled you into the tightest hug you’ve ever experienced. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your perfume,

“I’m so sorry, bonnie, I got your note but I lost the damn thing as soon as I got back.” His voice was muffled on account of him being buried in your hair,

“I’m so glad you’re safe, Johnny.” You breathed, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your head on his shoulder. “I was so worried.”

“I’ll always come back to you.”

He turned his head to look at you, his heart pounding in his chest, your eyes flicked between his lips and the beautiful blue orbs burning a hole in your skin.

“Care to make that a promise?” You felt short of breath and could barely get the words out, head swimming, blood thrumming, the alcohol you drank was nowhere near enough to have this effect on you.

“Your place, I take it?”

You couldn’t even speak so you opted for nodding instead. You jogged back over to your friends, said goodbye, grabbed your things, and bolted back into Johnny’s arms. Your mojito and your blues long forgotten. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and brought you in close to his chest, tucked under his arm, his thumb stroked your shoulder through the the fabric of your shirt.

“You look god damn beautiful.”

Your heart was pounding, you couldn’t believe this was real. You were half expecting to wake up in your room alone, but the misstep and small tumble on your part told you otherwise. You laughed as he effortlessly caught you and set you right,

“Careful, bonnie, didn’t realize I’d get you trippin’ over yourself.” He teased, you bumped your hip against his with a giggle. Feeling brave you bit your lip you leaned up to him, mouth dangerously close to his ear,

“You can get me to do a lot more than that, Johnny.” You kissed his jaw with a slow press of your lips,

“Steamin’ Jesus, hen, keep talkin’ like that and we won’t make it to yours.”

Thankfully you didn’t live too far but that didn’t stop the ache in your feet from your heels, you shakily put your keys in the lock, stepping aside once you opened the door to your apartment. When you watched him walk in, you realized it was the only sight you wanted to see for the rest of your life. You stepped in and flipped the light switch, leaning against the wall to take off your shoes.

“You too, Johnny, no exceptions.” You nodded at him with a playful seriousness,

“Yes ma’am.” He sat on the small bench by your front door and unlaced his shoes,

You could get used to hearing that from him.

Now that he was here, you almost were unsure what to do with yourself. Your veins thrumming with anticipation, your hands clenching into fists and unclenching at your sides, he watched you with a chuckle before getting up and walking over to you. He stood in front of you, warm hand on your hip, the other cupping your jaw and tilting your head up to look at him,

“Allow me.”

It was like nothing else. His lips were so god damn soft, they fit against yours like they were meant to be there. You couldn’t help the moan that slipped as you clung to him, your hands coming up to wrap around his neck and bring yourself ever closer. Fuck, he kissed like he meant it. Like you’ve been together for years and this is the first time he’s seen you in while (it’s not that far from the truth). He kisses like his life depended on it, and he really felt like it did.

He walked you backwards until your back hit the wall, he ground his hips against yours when you bit his lower lip and gave it a tug. His hands ventured downward, tracing your curves until they stopped and the soft flesh of your ass, pulling you that much closer. 

“Where?”

“Down the hall on the left.” You squealed when he leaned down and grabbed you by your thighs, wrapping your legs around his hips as he walked you both to your bedroom. His tongue prodded your lower lip and you gladly let him in, he groaned at the taste of you and the residual mojito on your tongue. He pushed the door to your room open with his foot and almost stumbled with you in his arms, you couldn’t help the breathless giggle that turned into a whine when he started kissing your jaw, the spot behind your ear, stopping when he reached the pulse point that drove you crazy. He’s never touched you like this and already he had a sense for what made you squeeze him a little tighter. 

He set you down gently on the bed, he looked down at you, your flushed and kiss swollen lips, the heaving of your chest, your blown pupils watching his every move. 

“Never seen a prettier thing in all my life.” His hands ran over the curves of your hips, pulling your shirt out from your jeans, tugging it higher until you sat up and he was able to take it off completely. His eyes wandered over your breasts, his fingers tracing the patterns his blue eyes tracked in your skin until the stopped at the hem of your jeans, 

“Please, Johnny.” He wasted no time in undoing the button on your jeans and sliding them down your legs, he sat back on his haunches and looked at you. The length of your legs, the swell of your hips, the smooth skin of your stomach, the soft flesh of your breasts, god you’re breathtaking. You leaned up and tugged on his shirt, but he was so in awe of you that it didn’t click. So when your colder hands slid under the fabric and pulled it up and off of him, it shocked him back to the moment. Johnny gently pushed you back down onto your back, barely giving you time to admire the chiseled figure leaning down over you. 

“Relax, sweet girl, I’ve got you.” He kissed the edge of your lips, slowly making his way down the expanse of your body. Mouthing at the soft skin on your breasts, biting and sucking and going lower and lower, stopping at the apex of your thighs. 

“Keep your eyes on me, look away and I’ll stop. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fuck, don’t know what you do to me.” Your silky legs found their way onto his shoulders, his fingers digging in and bruising the meat of your thighs. Your legs trembled as he started licking and kissing, absolutely devouring you, fingers pushing your underwear aside and diving into the warmth of your cunt,

“Johnny…” Your hands moved to his head, threading your fingers through his surprisingly soft hair, unintentionally messing up the carefully styled hair but the thought didn’t even cross his mind.

“Could eat you all fuckin’ night, Princess. ‘Specially when you say my name like that.” He groaned against you, encouraged by the noises spilling from your parted lips. You rolled your hips in time with him pumping his fingers, 

“Yeah? Want me to devour you ‘till there’s nothin’ left?” You were a writhing, moaning, mess and he’d barely gotten started, the noises coming from him were pornographic as he groaned against your heat, his tongue gliding between your folds and swirling around your clit. Your eyes threatened to flutter closed as it was too much to take in, but Johnny’s gaze held you firmly, daring you to look away, knowing you wouldn’t. Knowing you were clay in his hands, knowing he could mold you however he felt and that you’d let him. The thought went straight to the throbbing erection straining against his jeans. 

“Johnny- so close- please.” Your voice kept hitching, knot in your stomach getting tighter and tighter, you shamelessly ground your hips against his mouth and he ate you like a man starved, savoring the taste of you, flicking his tongue and causing your legs to tighten around his head. His fingers pumped in and out of you, curling at the spot that had you seeing stars, “Fuck Johnny ple-ease.” Higher and higher you climbed that peak until your head was thrown back against the bed, the wind getting knocked out of your lungs, so god damn close to tipping over that edge. 

Then he stopped. He withdrew his fingers and straightened up and as soon as he did your eyes fluttered back open and you looked up at him, confusion evident. He brought his fingers to his mouth, and your mind went blank. Your hands went to undo his belt and unfasten the button of his jeans, pulling them down his muscular thighs.

“Taste so goddamn good, bonnie.” He wiped mouth with the back of his hand, standing up and kicking off his jeans, sliding his boxer briefs off and away from him while you reached behind your back to unclasp your bra and toss it aside.

“Unreal how gorgeous you are, hen.” He kneeled back on the bed, kissing his way up from your soft ankles, teasing your clit with a flick of his tongue, nipping and sucking at your pebbled nipples, biting the sweet spot on your neck until finally, finally, he kissed you again. You moaned into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue, grinding your hips against his,

“Please, Johnny, please fuck me.” You begged between breathless kisses. 

“One more time, bonnie, please.” He was every bit out of breath as you are, your sweet moans knocking the air out of him. He gently tugged your lower lip between his teeth, “Need ta hear it one more time.”

“Fuck me, Johnny. I need you.” He pressed his forehead against yours, looking down at where he rubbed his dick against your slick heat. He shuddered at the warmth of you as he lined himself up with your entrance, groaning when he finally plunged into your throbbing cunt. You threw your head back with a moan and he dropped his against your shoulder,

“Sweet fuck bonnie, so fuckin’ good.” He panted, heart thundering in his chest when he dared to start moving his hips, starting off his thrusts slowly, meticulously, watching your every move, every twitch of your muscles, the way your mouth hung open as a string of moans and pleas spilled out of your pretty kiss-swollen lips. 

“Faster, Johnny, please.” He could never resist you, not before when you were just having micro coffee dates, and certainly not now when he’s balls deep in the warmth of your pussy. He leaned back, hands on your hips as his thrusts started picking up speed, he was hypnotized by the way your breasts bounced with each thrust, his fingers dug into the flesh of your hips, bringing you with him each time he drove into you. 

“Fuckin’ Christ, bonnie, the state of you.” He panted, one hand moving to rub your clit and it made you clench even harder around him. He groaned your name as his thrusts picked up in intensity and speed, your small hands clutched at his wrists, your legs wrapping around his hips to bring him that much closer to you. It created a new angle that had you arching your back off the bed, chanting his name in between moans, begging him not to stop,

“Don’t think I can stop, hen.” He felt the sweat rolling down his temples, his entire body feeling like an exposed nerve ending, every inch of him on fire,

“Please don’t. ’M- fuck- on the pill. Dont. Fucking. Stop.” You could barely get the words out, the last part coming out through gritted teeth,

“Fuck don’t say tha’.” He chuckled breathlessly, you pulled him down towards you, wrapping your arms around his neck, 

“Come with me, Johnny.” You bit the edge of his jaw, laving it with your tongue, sucking a colorful spot under his ear, his hips stuttered as he started thrusting harder into you. He turned his head and kissed you roughly, teeth tugging at your lips, you clenched around him as your orgasm washed over you. Your back arched off the bed, tits pressed against him, one of his arms snaked around your back and held you against him as he came with a groan, coaxed over the edge by your fluttering walls milking him for all he’s worth. He nearly collapsed on top of you if it wasn’t for him bracing himself with his arms on either side of your head, you wrapped your legs around his hips, keeping him close for just a moment longer. He kissed the side of your head and gently tapped your thigh, you untangled yourself from him and he pulled out and flopped onto his side, chest heaving, ears ringing just a little but in the best way. 

“I’ll have you know, I’m not usually a ‘first date’ kind of girl.” You panted, a playful smile pulling your lips as you turned onto your side to look at him. He chuckled and mimicked your movements,

“Wha’re you on about? Had plenty of dates, unless you’re saying you don’t count us having breakfast together as a date.” He quirked a brow, reaching across the both of you and taking a strand of your hair between his fingers,

“Well, uh, I mean, I-” Your cheeks went hot at the realization that he’s not wrong, and that maybe you sounded kind of rude, even if it was playful banter,

“I’m only teasin’, hen, course I’ll take you to dinner.” You shoved him jokingly as he pulled you close, his legs tangling with yours, arms wrapping around you and holding you against him,

“Or… you could stick around… indefinitely?” You suggested meekly, fingers tracing patterns in the dusting of hair on his chest, your head was tucked under his chin so you couldn’t see the blinding grin on his face. He buried his nose in your hair and kissed the crown of your hair,

“I like your idea better.”

[nhularin]

WHATS AFTER LIKE ?! y.jw

୨✩୧  O3. WHOS YUNJIN?!?!

SYNOPSIS Life is not easy as a rookie and you know that! After going viral with your fancam you have gained not only the attention of the public but also that of Enhypens cat like leader. What happens if you wake up one day with your names trending on twt ?!

DISCLAiMER this SUCKS i havent written a proper chapter in ages so its kind of dry and borderline cringy 😭😭 i hope it doesnt ruin the fic... im not good at putting my thoughts into words UEUEUEU also there are many grammar errors IM OSRRYYYYY not proofread!

Today was the day both of you have been dreading.

Jungwon has never felt this nervous before. Sure, he almost lost his shit at their debut showcase but hell, meeting the girl his members fanboy over makes his heart beat uncontrollably. Why am i like this he thought, trying to ignore the foreign emotions bubbling inside him.

The sound of the AC was faintly audible in the background as he paces around the practice room, waiting for the blonde girl's arrival. Maybe coming here earlier was a bad idea.

"Jungwon sit down no need to be nervous" his manager scolded him.

He sighed and pulled out his phone.

He immediately turned his phone off as he heard the door open, you, your manager and the choreographer entering the large room. His eyes immediately widened. Sunghoon was right, you were indeed prettier in person.

You looked around nervously, taking in the details of the room. As you and Jinhyuk (your manager) went up the stairs to the practice room, you couldnt help but grow more and more nervous.

Hybe is enormous, Jungwon is a global superstar, hell, the leader of the most promising group of this generation, and that at only age 18

you? You're merely a rookie who debuted not even half a year ago, still trying to figure out your place in this industry.

Once you entered the room, you saw Jungwon straighten up his posture staring at you with a blank expression. This definitely makes me feel better

You and your members have spent all evening searching up things Jungwon liked, from his hobbies down to his favorite food. You thought it was ridiculous, borderline creepy but wonyoung and Leeseo insisted that this would make you seem 'cool' and 'likable' (not that you arent already).

You were too busy worrying and overthinking that you didn't notice your manager speaking to you

"yn?" he called out, snapping you out of your little daydream,

'cute' Jungwon thought, looking down and slightly smirking. You looked like a deer in headlights, just more adorable.

'cute!?' he couldnt believe his thoughts could betray him. He'd rather die than admit that you, the reason why his names been trending EVERYWHERE , ARE attractive. get a grip jungwon he cheered himself up furrowing his eyebrows and puffing his cheeks.

You stood up, straightening your back. "Hello! I am IVE's Y/N its nice to meet you! I hope we will have a great time together" putting two thumbs up and smiling, your prominent dimple showing

Jungwon blinked repeatedly, flustered by your cuteness.

He tried to look anywhere but your face when he introduced himself, too scared to feel the same weird emotions again.

weird you thought.

"Its nice to finally meet you guys!" the choreographer exclaimed happily, opening the meeting with a grin on his face.

"As you guys already know, KCON LA is three weeks from now and fans are very eager to see IVE and Enhypen and whats better than seeing them separately? Together of course! Your managers have suggested a collab stage for each day since IVE is performing on the 3rd and enhypen on the 4th" he explained.

"the head of KCON has approved the stage and requested two different genres of songs which i think is amazing" he flipped open his binder, taking out four sheets.

"this is the schedule for the next two weeks. the collab stage will take place after IVE's Love Dive stage. You will perform LOVESONG by your seniors TXT. Y/N, you will open the stage with a short solo vocal performance, singing Taehyuns lines in eternal" he handed you the paper with the lyrics.

"then, Jungwon will join you, rapping yeonjuns verses. this will show your potential as a rapper! After that, there will be a small dance break and Lovesong will start. I have forwarded the choreography of the dance break to your managers.Are there any questions so far?"

You both shook your head.

"moving on, on the next day things will be a lot more relaxing. You both will be singing Polaroid love by, you guessed it, Enhypen!"

everyone laughed or smiled, you didnt know why though so you put on your best fake smile. Jungwon noticed this and rolled his eyes internally what a fool

"a cute little love song. This will also be the last performance of the event. Do you think you can handle this?"

As you were about to answer his question Jungwon was ahead of you "of course we can, i have faith in Y/N and i'm one hundred percent certain that we will be amazing"

You were shocked at how professional he sounded being a leader at such a young age really makes you grow up fast huh?

a few minutes passed and your managers seemed to be having an engaging conversation with the choreographer, leaving you guys sitting awkwardly in front of the mirror.

"Hey" you started. Getting a small hum as a response, he just looked at you blankly. Does he know about me and Sunghoon...? I swear it's not that serious...

You looked away in embarrassment. It kind of hurt a bit that hes acting so cold towards you. So far, you've been nothing but nice to him and this is what you get?

nice job y/n

"So...."

"So.." You bit your tongue, slowly regretting starting the conversation.

"i think we should exchange numbers..if there are change of plans of course! and i think it'd be better if we get to know each other before the show to make things more comfortable!" you said with a big grin.

Jungwon looked conflicted. He tried to hide the fact that your smile affected him more than he wanted

After exchanging your numbers, Jungwon was about to leave out of the door when you stopped him

"i just wanted to say that i admire you a lot! we dont know each other but i've heard nothing but great things about you! it must have been really hard being a leader at yoour age and uhm... i dont really know why im saying this haha...hah...anyways let's have a great time together and make the best of it! We can do it!"

oh

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AUTHORS NOTE #ynwon? or...not!

TAGLiST req here if u want to be added! (italics cant be tagged)

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[kix-mm]

Dusty’s letters

Previous - Next

A letter from two

Dear neighbor, it's Dusty!

How are you doing? I hope Branch was abel able to fix your house. Aparentlie Apparently, you covinsed convinced him to write to you too! He calls you his therpist therapist now, and I thought you were a jornalist journalist? You are full of surprises!

I'm doing okay, but things have changed, and I don't like it that much. I'm still scared, I get nigtmares nightmares about my brother, is that bad? It's bad dreams that show him hurting people, hurting our family... but they are all gone. That's the only reason I know when I'm dreeming dreaming. They feel so real that sometimes I hide from him.

Branch has become more and more warie wary about himself. Sometimes, I see him looking in the mirir mirror like he's scared of his own riflection reflection. He has also stared covering his eyes again. He smiles differently now too. It doesn't feel real. I want my old brother back... it's not nice seeing him so unhappy. It makes me sad.

Another thing I don't like is that he isn't allowed to come pick me up at school anymore... Because he makes people scared, especially other kids. Maybe they aren't used to seeing someone so big? I heard one of the teachers say they still think he's risponseble responsible for Mama and Papa dieng dying. It's not his fault! He saved me! Mama and Papa died because of the fire... He misses mama so much, Branch says I look a lot like her. I think he's starting to look more and more like our big brothers!

Maybe you're an investigater investigator, too? Can you help?

Lots of love, Dusty

Ps: Branch hasn't written a letter since Jacob left, it's a sensitive subgekt subject. Please be nice :)

Hello

Hi

Greetings??

Dear neighbor, fuck it good enough.

As you demanded requested, I'm now writing a letter to you. I do not know what you expect me to write nor how to write it, so forgive me if it's brief.

Dusty is recovering well, though due to my reckless behavior from the incident she still feels uneasy around me, her injuries have sparked another horrid rumor that alienates me further from the village.

I'm not welcome in the village at all in the and certainly nowhere near the schools. Ive lived my whole life surrounded by that hellhole and yet im still seen as nothing more as a monster. As a young child that really does something to you. You will never be welcome if you have an unflattering appearance or are anything less than human.

This is in no way meant to target you, you've been nothing but helpful and kind even after my terrible attitude and almost killing you. I'm still forever grateful for taking Dusty to school and doing the small amount of groceries that Dusty needs. You mean the world to her.

If it weren't for you I'd be rather lost, I do not understand why you have such a kind soul and so much patience, though your kindness might not be targeted towards me, but rather Dusty, I'm still grateful either way.

Please don't make me write another letter, I'd rather not talk about any of this, or rather, write. Which in my opinion seems worse as the words stick to a surface and can be read by anyone.

Many thanks for all your kindness.

Andy Branch.

[hummingbird-of-light]

Prompt: Can’t Find The Words

(Fourth story for Angstember 2024 by @ivystoryweaver)

Her knees were trembling as Nomira stepped in front of the tree under which her parents' remains had been buried. It was a tradition on Tyriuk IV for the mourners to remain silent for exactly five minutes, remembering the deceased, before the next of kin spoke a few words.

The first minute flew by. Nomira looked at the few people who had gathered to pay their last respects to Mr. and Mrs. Farie. They were family friends, her father's colleagues, neighbors. Even Miss Harkem had shown up. An incredible honor. Nomira looked at each of them and silently thanked them for coming. She couldn't have borne to go through this ceremony alone.

Nomira spent the second and third minutes with her eyes closed. She thought of her parents, remembering the best days of their life together. It hadn't always been easy, but her parents had always done everything in their power to give Nomira a good life under the circumstances. She owed them so much. And life had denied her the chance to ever give it back to them. It just wasn't fair.

The fourth minute seemed infinitely long to Nomira. She had opened her eyes again and looked down at the final resting place of her loved ones. How could it be? How was it possible that so little remained at the end of life? Just ashes and dust and memories. Memories that you clung to like a lifebelt. Nomira knew that she would live much longer than her parents or many other Tyriuks. And that was precisely why she wasn’t allowed to ever forget. She had to try to preserve and honor the memory of her parents for as long as she lived. It was the last thing she could do for them.

The fifth minute was over in one fell swoop and Nomira knew it was time for her to speak. She had to say something. She had to say something about the Tyriuks who had been torn from life in such a terrible way. But when she opened her mouth, the words stuck in her throat. No sound came out.

She had been preparing for this moment for so long. After Miss Tola had informed her of the accident, Nomira had immediately returned home. It had meant the end of her journey, but she hadn't cared. Nothing was more important than her parents.

All the words she had thought about since her return. All the stories she had wanted to tell. The song she had written and wanted to sing. All these things were suddenly no longer in her head. There was a resounding emptiness.

And suddenly there was this voice. A voice she hadn't heard for years. A voice that she had thought would never reach her ears again.

"When ... when we lose someone we love very much, it feels like the end of the world. Never seeing someone again, never hearing a familiar voice again, never being able to wrap your arms around someone again. These are all things you can't even imagine."

Nomira's eyes widened as she turned and saw the Tyriuk she had thought she would never see again slowly walking towards the group. Malui. Her brother. He was clad in the traditional mourning garb of the Tyriuks and his gaze did indeed reflect a deep sadness.

"But we must try to overcome these feelings of fear and sadness and emptiness and remember the good moments we shared with these loved ones. Every beautiful conversation, every laugh, every hug. We must cherish the memories and carry on in honor of them. We must be strong. Just like they would have wanted."

For a moment, Nomira just stood there, staring at her brother in disbelief. It almost seemed like a fever dream. Was he actually real? Was Malui really here?

But finally she nodded slowly, looked down at her parents' resting place and then turned to the mourners. With a trembling voice, she sang the song. The song she had written only for her beloved mother and father.

And when her voice eventually fell silent and many pairs of eyes were on her, she realized that Malui had taken her trembling hand.

Together the two of them stood in front of the small crowd and slowly but surely everyone started to leave, only leaving behind the Farie siblings.

For quite a while, Nomira and Malui simply stood next to each other in silence. They turned around and both looked at the tree, lost in thought.

Nomira felt the last tears flowing down her cheeks. She had cried so much in the past few days that there was hardly any liquid left.

"Sweet pea."

When Malui uttered the nickname he had given Nomira when she was young, the Tyriuk woman could no longer contain herself. She pulled her hand out of her brother's and gave him what was probably the strongest slap she had ever given anyone. Her long fingernails scratched across the purple skin, leaving bloody marks.

"Don't call me that. Never call me that name again," Nomira snarled, burning anger in her eyes.

Slowly, Malui's hand slid up to his injured cheek and he rubbed it gently. A sad smile formed on his lips.

"I ... had really hoped that we would meet again under different circumstances, Nomira."

Nomira just snorted at those words.

"What other circumstances? Do you really think I would have wanted to see you under different circumstances? You left us back then to live a crazy, miserable life! You left us in the lurch! And you can't imagine how much I hate you for that, Malui."

A heavy sigh escaped the older Tyriuk and he shook his head sadly.

"I had thought that you would be more mature by now. And ... that you would understand me."

Anger seethed deep inside Nomira. Understand? She would never understand! She would never understand how her brother could have made such a decision.

"I have never understood you. And I never will. And I want you to know one thing for sure, Malui. I will allow you to say goodbye to our parents here and now, but after that I never want to see you again. You will disappear from my life and leave me alone! I don't need you anymore. I am a grown woman who knows exactly what she wants in her life and you have lost your place in it."

Malui said nothing. He simply looked at Nomira in silence. And Nomira knew that this silence was the greatest torture of all for her. If he would at least protest. If he said anything, she could object and a big fight would break out.

But Malui remained silent.

And Nomira couldn't bear it. She turned away and then walked further and further away from the grave. Slowly at first, then faster and faster.

She knew that Malui would be gone the next time she returned to this place. She knew that he would obey her order. And yet, as much as her heart ached, she dared not turn around again.

Yes, she really was alone. She had no one left but herself. And that was why she would only think of herself. Forever.

[hookedsworks]

Edge(ING) Fitness - Chapter XXIII

III's POV. The rugby game

ao3

masterpost

Rugby is so fucking cool. III was watching Ivy's every move. Ives was shouting, sprinting, catching, running and tackling, and all of it looked effortless and light. He'd never been so glad to have been quasi abducted and taken somewhere he'd never have known to go on his own. They did…something. And they all went into an uproar, cheering and tackling each other. A cheer left III as well, though he wasn't even sure what it was for. Ivy seemed to have heard it, because he looked over in III's direction and grinned. He did the thing that guys do on the TV all the time, pointing at III before diving back into the game. A stupid grin remained on III's face. 

The sun was going down, and the game seemed to be almost over, but III couldn't be sure. A man with a young kid had packed their chairs and walked away a minute or two prior, so III thought that meant the game might have been over soon. III was starting to wish he had more than his little rain coat. He shivered. Ivy's shout rang down the field again, this time calling for III. 

“Mustache!!” He was jogging toward III and III had to fight to keep his jaw from hitting the ground. He was covered in sweat, blondy brown hair plastered to his forehead and spattered with mud. A mud stain also splattered artfully up his thigh, where his shorts were bunched up tightly. Those thighs were flexing hard as he ran, and he was grinning. III didn't feel the chill looking at that grin. It was devilish, charged with adrenaline and almost a little naughty. “Hey, babe, I can see you shivering from across the field,” he rearranged the bags, shuffled and ended up bent at the waist in front of III. That ass. His leg muscles were completely pumped up, his ass was a genuinely perfect peach and III could not look away. Ivy turned and then III couldn't see anything. Something was covering his entire face. He grabbed it and pulled it away. A sweatshirt. Ivy's sweatshirt. III looked back up at Ivy. 

“Thanks, peaches,” III slid right into the sweatshirt and immediately felt better. It smelled like laundry, which smelled like home, and III inhaled deeply. Ivy was watching him. 

“Is that better, babe?” III nodded. 

“I didn't realize it was obvious I was cold,” 

“Well, we're almost done. I'll warm you up soon,” Ivy winked and jogged back into the game. III was more than happy to snuggle into Ivy's sweatshirt and watch the man get dirty and sweaty and…III pulled the sweatshirt down over his crotch. He had to do something about this mind shattering desire he had for the guy on the field. He's just strong and so competent and watching him do something he so clearly loves was turning III on to the nth degree. 

Ivy's team scored as the timer went off. III had moved off the bleachers and was standing near them. Those bleachers were terrible for his posture. Once again, they all gathered around one another and were screaming and cheering and Ivy's face surfaced from the crowd for a moment, joy written across it in a way that made III's own mouth stretch back out into a grin. Ivy was sprinting toward him again, cheering and shouting. He barreled into III and grabbed III before III could even brace for impact. Ivy had him, and he fucking dipped III like a bride. His eyes were lit up, he smelled like sweat and metal, and then Ivy's lips were smashed against III so aggressively it was almost uncomfortable. III unraveled into the kiss completely, melting in Ivy's strong, sweaty hold. Ivy's hand spread out along III's back, stabilizing him as his head spun. All of the blood in his body rushed south, so fast he didn't think he could see if his eyes were open. Ivy pulled back, holding III, and was bright pink. He was breathing as hard as he had been during the game. 

“If I give you my keys, will you go start the Jeep and wait for me?” He was talking practically right into III's mouth, and III wanted to swallow his every word. 

“Only if you don't make me wait til we get to one of our houses,” III winked. Ivy stood him upright and then vanished, back near his bag. A bright flash of metal came flying at him and III barely moved in time to catch the keys. 

“I promise you won't have to wait long, babe,” the words dripped warm desire down III's throat and he nearly tripped over himself running back to Ivy's car.

[alienaiver]

Hey Nohr! I'd love to join your writing game! How about either Hawks or Aizawa (you chose!) and 124?

hi hey luna !! 🥰🧡 im glad you joined, i hope you enjoy it as well! (and sorry about the delay! 🧡)

i chose hawks (ive never written for him and i wanted to try!!) and the number gave the sentence: "this place creeps me out"! there's fluff ahoy and 1k words 🧡✨ hawks picks you up once and is mentioned to have done it before, but he is the number 2 hero, so!!! 💪🏼💪🏼

You’re walking behind Takami with your eyes looking around, trying to take in everything. He’d said that he wanted to bring you somewhere today, and had flown for over an hour with you in his grasp. Even if you have been dating the number two hero for over six months (though none of it has been discussed or is official between you, your brain reminds you), you’re not used to his choice of transportation. But it does make sense, he’d get recognized on trains too easily, and you’d have to pretend you didn’t know each other.

”This place creeps me out.” You say, your hands linked behind your back. Takami barks out a crude laugh as he slows down to walk next to you. He reaches out with a looped arm and you wrap yourself around it. ”It’s a very special place, sweet tweeks.”

Sweet tweeks. Takami had a special way of coming up with nicknames you felt you’d heard before but were completely made up. It was a cute little quirk and you felt warmth grow in your face whenever he came up with a new – ridiculous – one. You hum a reply and squeeze his arm, noticing the rust on the pipes that’s running along the building walls. The weather is sunny but the tall buildings are stealing the rays from you and so you can’t help but shiver.

You reach a dead end and Takami laughs, ”up we go!”

That’s the only warning he gives you before he once again picks you up like you’re simply a backpack with nothing in it. You can’t hold back the surprised squeal coming from your body and he can’t hold back an airy laugh. He finds this more amusing than you’d like him to, ”Keigo!” you scold, but it’s really to no avail.

When you reach the roof, he lets you down gently and lands next to you, a laugh escaping him at your wind-blown hair. You pout and sigh but he just grabs your chin with his pointer and thumb, ”look, squidling. Isn’t it beautiful?”

He turns your head slowly to the view you’d barely noticed when you landed and a gasp leaves you. Takami whistles before wrapping his arms around you from behind, ”breathtaking, right?”

He kisses the top of your head and you nod, ”it’s not as creepy as from below.” you admit, wrapping your own arms around his. It’s a sunset over the water. You’re on top of a building that isn’t the tallest, but it towers over the smaller ones in the area. The water has turned a deep red from the setting sun, reflecting small and beautiful sparkles. A content sigh leaves you.

He leans in and kisses you behind the ear, ”almost as breathtaking as you.”

You can’t hold back the snort you let out at the cliché line he just send your way, the image of a wannabe bad boy coming to your mind. As much as Takami enjoys flirting with you shamelessly, it usually comes in concrete compliments and teasing.

The banality of the line makes you push yourself closer up against his back. He happily pulls you closer, his lips not leaving your skin.

”y’know…” he whispers, fingers fiddling with the hem of your jacket, ”I really like you.”

You stay silent, holding your breath. You like Takami a lot but you’ve also tried to be mindful of his space – of his position as the number two hero. Forcing him into a relationship wasn’t something you’d been interested in doing to him. But you also cannot deny that this is somewhat of a dream come true. Something that’s been brewing the past six months.

It’s a long time to keep someone at arm’s length, anyways.

He stays silent so you chance a hum, to show you’re listening. He sighs deeply as his head slumps onto your shoulder. A nervous chuckle escapes him, ”I’m usually not this scared about anything…”

His arms tightens around you as he whispers his most sincere confession, ”but I’m terrified of losing you.”

You give his arms a reassuring squeeze. You’re about to say something supportive, something understanding but he straightens up and talks again, ”but I want to be honest with you, squinky. I want to introduce you to people – close friends of course – as my partner. I wanna call myself your boyfriend. But it’s something… that I’ve been running away from for a very long time. When people come to close, I…”

He clicks his tongue, annoyed by how tongue-tied he feels. You squeeze at his arms before you turn around in his grasp and face him. His cheeks are a wonderful shade of red, accentuated by the red skies. As the sun’s final rays disappear, you feel a shiver run through you.

You run your hand over his cheek and smile, ”we can take this at any speed you’d like. I know you’re used to being the fastest but… it is possible to do things slowly sometimes.”

He snorts and looks away. You often do this, see right through him. In the beginning, he bristled when you hit too close to home but he’s started enjoying it, wanting to see and hear more from you – even if he feels naked and powerless underneath your all-seeing eyes.

You lean in to give him a light peck on the cheeks, ”if I’m honest… I feel giddy thinking about calling you my boyfriend. But titles aren’t all in a relationship. Communicating about where we both stand – like we’re doing right now, is fine as well.”

He smiles, ears burning red at your admission. Then, he returns the peck but deepens it, ”this is actually my secret spot where I come to think. I wanted to share it with you because… I want to share a lot more from now on.”

A teasing smile erupts on your face and with a teasing tilt in your your voixe you ask, ”even your fried chicken?”

Takami shakes his head before nuzzling his nose up against yours, ”doodly, we’re talking marriage before I share my chicken with anyone.”

You laugh and punch his arm without much force, ”I’ll look forward to that proposal then.”

The sky isn’t even close to be as red as his face.

[keirawantstocry]

whoops. wrote a fitpac fic :)

im so sorry if any of my characterization is off cause this is the first time ive ever written them and im so sorry if i messed up any of the Portuguese 😭

i can be ur new addiction

Strength was what originally piqued Pac's interest in the pole. He wanted to feel that strength in his own body, that pull of his muscles as he held himself up. The sweat that dripped down his forehead as he brought himself to the point of exhaustion physically.  In everyday life as well he could feel the strong cords of his muscle as he picked things up and spent time building. It was a good feeling. It was admirável, addictive, espantoso. Logistically he knew the implications that came with knowing how to perfectly do a split against a stripper pole, how to land with his thighs spread open. He just never thought about it. Not in the context of other people seeing it. 

Until the first time he was asked to perform what he knew in front of other people. All eyes on him. It was like a drug, feeling the pull of eyes, feeling the gazes rake hungrily over his body. Watching so closely as he spun around, twisted and stretched his body in every single direction it could go. As they appreciated his bare skin, the expanse of his bare chest and his thighs tight around the pole itself. People whistled and applauded. More than a few people sauntered up to him afterwards asking if he did private shows, if he could do something like that on their bodies. He agreed to a few. The nicer ones. The money slipped in his hands was almost as good as the feeling of being up close and personal with people radiating with how much they wanted you. Viciante.  

He had more confidence back then. Back when he still had both his legs. 

Roier was the one who convinced him he should get back into it after his robotic leg had been installed. Who begged him nearly every week to join him in one of the back rooms of the club to practice with the strippers there. It took a bit of practice. Bit of understanding and maneuvering.  To get back into it all. Lots of time practicing, first by himself but then with Melissa, with some of the other men and women who worked there at the club.  It felt good to feel strong again. To feel capable. To feel, not quite sexy yet but confident. 

He and Mike had figured out how to make an incredibly realistic leg replacement for him. It was just as easy to use on the pole as his actual skin. The slight burn against his skin as he held himself up. It was good. It felt good. On a very slow night he even made his way out in the strip club with Melissa and did a few rounds around with her. It felt good again. To see how the scattered men looked at him and Melissa both. Hungry eyes. They wanted him. He felt sexy. It was almost intoxicating enough that he could forget who he was really wishing would look at him like that. 

With his skills and knowledge, nobody could blame him for using it to his advantage when he knew Fit was around. He couldn't help it. At heart he yearned for the attention and damnit he was going to get it. Especially from Fit. He already saw how the man reacted to the minimal flirting that they participated in, how flustered and stuttery he got when anyone else on the island mentioned the two of them together in any sense of the word. 

So when Fit messaged him over the communicator one morning asking where he was instead of going upstairs and pretending he hadn't been practicing, he told him the truth. 

ill see you there :)

Pac knew the exact moment when Fit walked inside the dimly lit room of the basement. He heard the inhale of his breath as he gasped at the sight of him. It was addictive. Better than he could have ever imagined. “Olá, Fit!” He swung himself off the pole with a self satisfied smirk, landing on his knees with his legs spread underneath him. “Tudo bem?” 

Fit looked like his eyes were about to bulge out of his head. He just stared and stared as Pac watched him carefully. His mouth fell open as his eyes raked up Pac's thighs, pupils getting wide with desire. “Wow.” 

“Wow?” Pac pressed, trying to get him to say more and it seemed to break Fit out of his spell. 

Clearing his throat, he tore his eyes away from Pac. “Yeah man. The core strength. Core strength. You're very strong.” He took a few steps back, farther away from the man in front of him, to simply stare at the floor in front of him. 

Fuck. Pac wanted his attention again. And he knew the perfect way to get it. Gracefully standing to his feet while keeping one hand on the pole, he started to pull off the loose blue pants he had been wearing while trying to catch Fit's eye. The man glanced up for nary a second and he was caught. Hook, line, and sinker. 

He gulped, prominent against his throat. “What are you doing?” 

“Practicing the rest of my routine. Do you mind?” Pac asked, making sure to flutter his eyelashes a bit with a laugh bubbling up from his chest. “I don't have to do it now. You know if-” 

“No no,” Fit interrupted. “It's no problem. None at all.” 

Pac simply gave him a smile as he tossed his pants to the side showing off the whole bodysuit he was wearing. The deep black contrasted perfectly with his skin, raised quite high up on his hips hugging them tightly.  He had always felt confident in the bodysuit, usually wearing it under his everyday sweats and hoodie. It felt so much more electrifying to be wearing it and it only. Especially in front of Fit, who was staring at him with clear desire while using every atom in his body to hold himself back. It was fantastic. 

Using every muscle in his arms he pulled himself up the pole, flipping himself over, spreading his legs out to split before flipping back over and lowering himself down to admire the pure lust in Fit's eyes. Pac slowly walked himself around the pole, feeling the drag of Fit's gaze over his thighs and ass as he did so. did so. His head was getting fuzzy. The room felt even stuffier and hotter than it had before. With both hands he grabbed the pole once again and started to pull himself up. The pull was strong in his muscles, his arms tense. He repeated his movements from the ground but in the air, legs cycling as if he was walking while he used his arms and momentum to twirl himself slowly around the pole. 

“That’s amazing,” Fit said. A squeak echoed in the room from Fit’s shoe as he took a step forward. 

“Thank you,” Pac said, winking at him as he spun around to face him before landing hard on his feet. Using one finger, he curled it towards himself to try and motion Fit closer. He followed without thinking, like a magnet, mouth open slightly. He reached back once he deemed he was close enough and lifted himself up on the pole once more. “Help me?” 

Fit nodded, looking dazed. “Uh yeah yeah with what?” 

“I need to-” he cut himself off and dropped down again, trying to figure out the best way to do it. Of course he already knew damn well how to do the move all by himself but Fit didn’t need to know that piece of information. He stood to the side of the pole as Fit hovered around him. Reaching out he put his hand on Fit’s before bringing it over to rest on the very bottom of his back right above where the fabric of the bodysuit cut off. Fit sucked in his breath hard but managed to keep it together and keep his hand on Pac. 

Reaching up, Pac put his hands on top of each other on the pole, preparing to swing his legs up. “Follow the, the um, flow of my body. I’m going to flip.” 

Fit blinked trying to process what exactly they were going to do. “Okay okay yeah I can help you with that.” 

Time slowed down as his body hinged with the other man’s help. As Fit’s hand stayed firm on his back throughout the entire flip. Not even letting go once he was back on the ground and had released his grip on the pole. Pac used it as an excuse to get closer to him, until their feet bumped together and he could see every fleck of color in Fit’s wide eyes. 

“Did I do good?” 

“Yes. Yes. Of course you did… you always do amazing.” 

Pac smiled, a sharp but kind smile. “Thank you, Fit.” 

Fit's hand felt hot on his skin even through the fabric of his bodysuit. All he wanted to do was lean in as close as he could. Until their bodies were knitted together, rib to rib, heart to heart.  A voice in his head, which sounded suspiciously like Fit's, was the only thing that stopped him. 

Take it easy. Go slow. Slow. Slow. Slow. 

Pac let out a deep slow breath and with a smile stepped back away from Fit, letting his hand drop from his body. “Let me put my clothes back on, yeah? Then we can do whatever you wanna do today.” 

Fit smiled back at him but his eyes were still dark, looking at Pac way too closely to be platonic. “Yeah. That sounds good, man.” 

He felt good. They were good. It was gonna be good. Fit was security. The kind of stable strength that Pac had never found in past partners. It felt safe. He had to pull in his emotions as he gathered his clothes up to put them back on, he could not admit that Fit felt like home. Nice and slow. Take it nice and slow to get the guy. 

He turned to face Fit with a large smile. “Ready to go?” 

Fit gave him the smile that he only reserved for him, Tubbo, and Ramon. “So ready.” 

[asydicsydney]

I haven't written any fanfic since April and guess who was on the chopping block?

It's the robot again, yeah, I'm not sorry

Anyway, this is "The Star Child", a fanfic about my SPG fanbot, Pluto, 1.8K words

Birthdays and remembrances fill the calendars in the manor. GG's birthday, Delilah Moreau's rememberence day, and even the anniversary of Walter Robotics zips by while Pluto is left puzzled, year after year. Sure, they plan the parties and attend with the most energy they can muster, but when it's Six's birthday, they're nowhere to be found. This caused quite a stir in the manor, since the current Peter Walter descendant's birthday is always a big deal for the band, and their event planner was M.I.A. Six assured the band he would be fine with a late celebration or even no celebration, that he was perfectly content with tinkering in the lab another night while the robots go on a search party for their youngest sibling. After some protesting as to the method of their search party, the band split up to cover as much ground of the manor as possible.

-

Hatchworth checked Pluto's room, their closet and balcony, even under the bed, but he couldn't find them.

Rabbit checked the gardens where Pluto would often stargaze, looking to the night sky like they were lost, but it was midday so they weren't there either.

-

The Spine checked the Hall of Wires, even though Pluto usually only went there to bug him. But sure enough, at the end of the hall, peeking out from the sides of The Spine's tall rolling chair were two tufts of electric blue hair. The Spine could hear frantic keyboard clacking as he walked closer. He came up behind the chair and peered slowly over.

"Ahem," he said, since he couldn't very well clear his throat as a human would. Pluto's hands stopped on the keyboard and mouse. They turned their head towards the interruption. Greeted by The Spine's stern face, they gave a meek wave.

The Spine grabbed the top of the chair and spun it around to face him. "What are you doing on my computer?"

Pluto crossed their arms, "I didn't know you owned the internet."

"I don't-" He sighed as he remembered why he needed to find them in the first place, "Do you know what day it is?"

"Thursday."

How he hasn't combusted from the dumb answers his band has given him over the years is beyond him. "It's Six's birthday."

"So?" Pluto was getting more antsy as they held The Spine's sharp gaze.

"'So?' You're supposed to be the manager, the organizer, the planner! We've never missed a Walter's birthday and we might if you don't get your fancy shoes downstairs right now." He started to drum his long fingers on his hip.

Pluto tightened their expression. "I'll be down in a minute," they stated flatly as they turned the chair back towards the computer.

The Spine looked between Pluto and the computer stunned, how could they just blow off their responsibility like that? A Peter Walter's birthday is a celebration for all residents of Walter Manor. And those poor Walter Workers are probably scrambling together a party at that very moment without any guidance from their supervisor. He had to take matters into his own hands. Literally. The Spine picked up Pluto by their torso and hauled them over his shoulder.

"What the- I wasn't finished!" Pluto reached for the computer, using the same 'grabby hands' motion they use when they can't reach high shelves.

"No no, I think we're quite finished here," The Spine carried them out of the Hall of Wires like they're lighter than air. "What stole your attention anyway, little star?"

Pluto leaned their head on their hand, balancing their elbow on the closest spine protrusion. They mumbled into their hand, "My maker."

"Mime acre? Like a ranch for mimes?"

They shifted their hand so they could be heard clearly. "My maker," they overenunciated.

The Spine stopped at the top of the stairs and turned his head to look at, well, the back of Pluto's head. "You were researching Peter Walter IV on Peter Walter VI's birthday? Did you get your Roman numerals mixed up?"

Pluto kicked the back of The Spine's knee with the heel of their fancy shoe. He took that as a message to keep moving so he started descending from the attic. About half way down, Pluto piped back up from over The Spine's shoulder, "My maker. Not any of the Walter's. His name was Francis Kuiper."

The Spine's memory is jolted when he hears that name. "Oh yeah, Four told us about your original designer. That...Kuiper guy, wasn't he some famous astronomer?"

"That's what I was told," Pluto sighed, "Or at least what I was programmed to know. I was trying to find one of his papers to read. He must have had a paper or a book or something, but no database even knows his name!" They threw their hands up in frustration.

The Spine stopped again, at the bottom of the stairs this time. "That is strange. Scientific papers are usually well documented. I suppose we could try The Archive."

"The Archive?" Pluto didn't recognize this name. They did spend an awful lot of time in their room hard at work, so they can't be expected to know every room in the manor.

"It's right next to the vault Hatchworth lived in. You've never been?" The Spine forgot not all of the band members are as interested in history as him.

"Hatchworth lived in a vault?!" Pluto gaped, "This family is dysfunctional."

"I think you'll find we function just fine." He laughed and began to walk towards the next flight of stairs.

"You're still holding me like a sack of potatoes."

"Oh! I'm sorry." He placed them back on the ground before asking, "Did you want to go there? The others are probably still looking for you anyway."

-

The Spine pulled the string light to The Archive, since Pluto couldn't reach it, and guided them over to the filling cabinets labeled with band member's names. Some labels were blank and others had names Pluto didn't register. They grimaced seeing GG's cabinet was jammed with overflowing diagnostic papers. They had to run those twice a week, otherwise GG would fry her circuits. They always turned them into Six, they didn't know this is where they ended up. They wouldn't blame him for shredding them.

Pluto sees their cabinet at the bottom, conveniently placed for the shortest robot. They open it only to find their yearly diagnostic reports and nothing else. They picked themselves up off the ground and dust off their skirt.

"Let's just go to the party," they said, defeated. Of course, there wouldn't be anything of his here. They tried to close the cabinet with their heel but something jams it.

They started to walk out of the room until they overheard The Spine kneel onto the concrete floor and utter a small "Hmm..." They turned back, ready to drag The Spine upstairs themselves, but he's already reopened Pluto's cabinet.

"There was nothing in there. I thought we didn't have time for history dives?" They crossed their arms as they watched him pull out a manilla envelope that had a corner sticking out of the side of the cabinet door, causing it's jam. That wasn't there before, was it?

The Spine maneuvered his long legs to sit cross-legged on the cold floor, as he unwrapped the string that sealed the envelope. "I would never say no to a history dive."

Pluto despised the thought of their skirt getting dirty. Clearly no one has ever cleaned down here. But they made an exception because they need to know what's in that envelope. They seat themselves next to The Spine and watch enraptured as he pulls out two pieces of paper.

The first is burned into their mind. It was practically the lockscreen of their mainframe. It's Francis Kuiper's drawing of them. The Star Child schematic. It was both hardwired into their mental self-image, as well as a piece of their memory after booting up for the first time, seeing it set to the side of the operating table all those years ago. They had never seen it so close, so tangible. The centuries-old ink outlines the very same vest they wear today and their feet are tilted up like they're floating in midair. That's why Hatchworth gave them the Fancy Shoes, they were never drawn with any.

Then The Spine shuffled the papers to look at the second one. This paper Pluto had never seen. It was the front cover of a newspaper dated May 22nd, 1776. Many of the words were blocked out or changed by ink marks. The article's title reads, "Crossdresser Found Leaving for British Colonies." The article tries to address a Ms. Kuiper, but the ink changes each one to a Mr. The ink does not cover the immediate charge of execution or mass burning of scientific work. The last line reads, with a rewritten pronoun, "His deceived wife, Isabella Kuiper, refused to comment.

Pluto felt The Spine's weight rest against their shoulder. His voice is low when he finally speaks.

"You can go back to your room, if you'd like. We can handle the party. I'm sorry, Pluto."

But Pluto ignored everything he said as they grabbed the newspaper out of his hands.

"Look!" They pointed to the 'ou' in 'Found' at the top of the page. The letters are bolder than those around them, almost as if someone went over them in ink. They scanned the page and found more letters and words bolded this way. The Spine tried to keep up, documenting them all quickly in his mainframe until they arrived back at the end of the article. There's a dash in front of the bolded 'Isabella' and a tiny heart drawn right next to it.

The Spine read off his list, "Our love lies in the stars. -Isabella, heart." He also sent the written version to Pluto through the mainframe. He speaks with a soft fondness, "Well, Francis was an astronomer. I guess they both loved the stars."

The newspaper goes limp in Pluto's hands. They looked back at the schematic that's now in The Spine's lap on top of the manilla folder. 'The Star Child.' They knew they weren't always Pluto. Peter Walter IV named them that to celebrate the new planet and astronomical discovery as a whole. But before all that, they were just The Star Child.

'Our love lies in the stars.' They always thought of Francis Kuiper as their maker, their designer. But really, he was their father. A father who couldn't have children of his own, so he invented one. And Isabella, his wife, Pluto's mother, she kept the schematic safe from the flames that destroyed the rest of her husband's work. She protected their legacy, their child.

Pluto leaned their weight back into The Spine's torso. "Yeah, I think they did."

-

A new holiday was added to the Walter Manor's calendar. On May 22nd, the band stargazes in the garden. And when Pluto looks into the night sky above San Diego, all they see is home.